#how to recklessly run an agency of your own

[cate-deriana]

Finally, finally, finally a new entry. George tells us about what signs to watch out for when you're unsure if there might be double standards at work.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

There are so many places in the Villeneuve Dune adaptations where he just...takes all the narrative pieces that Frank Herbert laid out and subtly rearranges them into something that tells the story better--that creates dramatic tension where you need it, communicates the themes and message of the book more clearly, or corrects something in the text that contradicts or undermines what Herbert said he was trying to say.

The fedaykin are probably my favorite example of this. I just re-read a little part of the book and got smacked in the face with how different they are.

(under the cut for book spoilers and length)

The fedaykin in the book are Paul's personal followers, sort of his personal guard. They show up after his legend has already started growing (the word doesn't appear in the book until chapter 40) and they are people who have specifically dedicated themselves to fighting for him, and right from the moment they're introduced there is a kind of implied fanaticism to their militancy that's a bit uncomfortable to read. They're the most ardent believers in Paul's messianic status and willing to die for him. (They are also, as far as you can tell from the text, all men.)

In the book, as far as I can remember (I could be forgetting some small detail but I don't think so) there is no mention of armed resistance to colonialism on Arrakis before Paul shows up. As far as we know, he created it. ETA: Okay I actually went back and checked on this and while we hear about the Fremen being "a thorn in the side" of the Harkonnens and we know that they are good fighters, we don't see anything other than possibly one bit of industrial sabotage. The book is very clear that the organized military force we see in the second half was armed and trained by Paul. This is exacerbated by the two-year time jump in the book, which means we never see how Paul goes from being a newly deposed ex-colonial overlord running for his life to someone who has his own private militia of people ready to give their lives for him.

The movie completely flips all these dynamics on their head in ways that add up to a radical change in meaning.

The fedaykin in the movie are an already-existing guerrilla resistance movement on Arrakis that formed long before Paul showed up. Literally the first thing we learn about the Fremen, less that two minutes into the first movie, is that they are fighting back against the colonization and exploitation of their home and have been for decades.

The movie fedaykin also start out being the most skeptical of the prophecy about Paul, which is a great choice from both a political and a character standpoint. Of course they're skeptical. If you're part of a small guerrilla force repeatedly going up against a much bigger and stronger imperial army...you have to believe in your own agency. You have to believe that it is possible to win, and that this tiny little chip in the armor of a giant terrifying military machine that you are making right now will make a difference in the end. These are the people who are directly on the front lines of resisting oppression. They are doing it with their own sweat, blood and ingenuity, and they are not about to wait around for some messiah who may never come.

From a character standpoint, this is really the best possible environment you could put Paul Atreides in if you want to keep him humble. He doesn't get any automatic respect handed to him due to title or birthright or religious belief. He has to prove himself--not as any kind of savior but as a good fighter and a reliable member of a collective political project. And he does. This is an environment that really draws out his best qualities. He's a skilled fighter; he's brave (sometimes recklessly so); he's intensely loyal to and protective of people he cares about. He is not too proud to learn from others and work hard in an egalitarian environment where he gets no special treatment or extra glory. The longer he spends with the fedaykin the more his allegiance shifts from Atreides to Fremen, and the more skeptical he himself becomes about the prophecy. This sets up the conflict with Jessica, which comes to a head before she leaves for the south. And his political sincerity--that he genuinely comes to believe that these people deserve liberation from all colonial forces and his only role should be to help where he can--is what makes the tragedy work. Because in the end we know he will betray all these values and become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be.

There's another layer of meaning to all this that I don't know if the filmmakers were even aware of. ETA: rescinding my doubt cause based on some of Villeneuve's other projects I'm pretty sure he could work it out. Given the time period (1960s) and Herbert's propensity for using Arabic or Arabic-inspired words for aspects of Fremen culture, it seems very likely that the made-up word fedaykin was taken from fedayeen, a real Arabic word that was frequently used untranslated in American news media at the time, usually to refer to Palestinian armed resistance groups.

Fedayeen is usually translated into English as fighter, guerrilla, militant or something similar. The translation of fedaykin that Herbert provides in Dune is "death commando"...which is a whole bucket of yikes in my opinion, but it's not entirely absurd if we're assuming that this fake word and the real word fedayeen function in the same way. A more literal translation of fedayeen is "self-sacrificer," as in willing, intentional self-sacrifice for a political cause, up to and including sacrificing your life.

If you apply this logic to Dune, it means that Villeneuve has actually shifted the meaning of this word in-universe, from fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for Paul to fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for their people. And the fedaykin are no longer a group created for Paul but a group that Paul counts himself as part of, one member among equals. Which is just WILDLY different from what's in the book. And so much better in my opinion.

[comicsohwhyohwhy]

Two gestures - Jayce's and Viktor's journey

Just something that's been on my mind because I've seen so many positive interpretations of this scene in season 1, where Jayce stops Viktor from speaking in front of the Council after the Hextech gem was stolen by Jinx:

People interpret it as Jayce protecting Viktor, as a positive gesture, and while I think it's absolutely possible to interpret what's going on in Jayce's head as something like that, I think that in the narrative this scene also serves a very different purpose.

The context of this gesture is a scene where Viktor is the one person who'd be fully within his rights to speak in the Council chamber, because the question posed is this: Could the Zaunites figure out Hextech and weaponize it? There's the call to address this danger immediately, and Viktor tries to speak, undoubtedly to speak for his people, the Zaunites, who are only talked about as dangerous in this room, as something to be kept in check. But Viktor doesn't get to speak, Jayce stops him and gives a whole spiel about wanting to take responsibility, something he undoubtedly is sincere about, and then unilaterally decides that all Hextech operations will be suspended, including closing down Jayce's and Viktor's lab.

It's the first time that Jayce talks over Viktor like that, that he disregards him and his opinion, that he makes decisions for Hextech, for the both of them, without ever consulting Viktor. There's at least two reasons Viktor reacts with the facial expression above to Jayce's speech: He does not want to suspend Hextech operations, because he is running out of time and increasingly desperate to finally do good with their invention. But also and maybe mostly, he is hurt, because suddenly, he has lost his voice, suddenly, Jayce talks over him and takes it upon himself to decide the future of their lab.

This is the moment Mel decides she wants Jayce on the Council, that he's a good investment in that context as well - and we all know that Jayce meddling in politics very much is what leads to all the mistakes he makes in season 1. When Mel presents her plan, we see this shot of Viktor - this is him increasingly fading into the background, and we see him breathing heavily, obviously agitated by what's happening, but silent, always silent:

Jayce stopping Viktor from speaking in front of the Council is the beginning of the whole catastrophic journey between Jayce and Viktor in season 1 - the first time of many that Jayce disregards Viktor. The last time he does, it's when he takes it upon himself to decide whether or not to weaponize Hextech, in a conversation where Mel and him only ever talk of this as his, as Jayce's choice. "The decision is yours", Mel says, while Viktor sits there - silenced, ignored after Mel and Jayce stand up and talk over him, literally, talk of 'their own people', the Piltovians, that they have a duty to protect from the Zaunites, from people like Viktor. It's all slipping away from Viktor.

Viktor becomes invisible, he loses his voice and all choice he could and should have in how his and Jayce's inventions are used, he loses his agency. And we know what the decision to weaponize Hextech leads to, in the whole narrative but also for Viktor - it's when he finally loses the trust he had in Jayce and starts experimenting recklessly with the Hexcore by himself, leading to Sky's death.

It's very deliberate that the first scene in the Council with Jayce stopping Viktor from speaking mirrors the scene in the last ep of season 1, same place, where Jayce with the opposite hand gesture invites Viktor to speak in front of the Council, a Zaunite voice for the Zaunites declaring that there's a proposal for peace:

At this point, Jayce has learnt that he was wrong, that he has made so many mistakes, not least of which disregarding Viktor, not giving him a voice, not listening. So that's why Viktor gets to speak here, and that's why he is silenced in the first scene.

In this light, it's of course extra tragic that everything happening in season 2 is then again the result of Viktor losing his agency because of a choice Jayce makes for him - that all Viktor wants at that point is dying with as much dignity as he can muster, and what he gets instead is again Jayce deciding for him, disregarding the promise made to Viktor to destroy the Hexcore, instead merging Viktor with it. Viktor's choices and wishes are disregarded so often by Jayce within the story, and it's only in season 2 that Jayce finally really learns and gets to restore agency to Viktor at the very end through his love.

[frickingnerd]

dating izuku & ochako

pairing: izuku midoriya / deku x gn!reader x ochako uraraka / uravity

tags: wholesome fluff, flustered/awkward!izuocha, supportive!1A girls, tons of physical affection, affectionate!izuocha

the three of you were a MESS before you started dating!

everyone assumed they were the third wheel, with you thinking that izuku and ochako liked each other, while they assumed you only liked the other one and they were actually third wheeling!

there was a long period of time where the three of you were just friends with romantic feelings for one another, until eventually ochako let it slip to the other girls of class 1A that she had a crush on both izuku and you and they helped the three of you out!

looking back on it, you can now laugh about how oblivious and dumb you were back then, but it never fails to embarrass the three of you when the girls of class 1A bring it up to tease you!

izuku and ochako are both very affectionate people, while simultaneously getting easily flustered by affection!

you're always seen holding hands, switching who gets to be in the middle, or having your arms wrapped around each other

the three of you are the most wholesome throuple in class 1A and people look up to you, admiring how cute you are together!

though some of your classmates – like bakugou – are annoyed just how cute and all over each other the three of you are!

you're always training together and are each other's biggest supporters, as well as recklessly running into danger if one of you is in trouble!

you already have plans to move in together after graduating UA, as well as open your own hero agency!

though even while living in the dorms together, it already starts to feel like you're a married throuple who lives together, with the three of you always cooking together or having sleepovers in each other's rooms (much to the distaste of aizawa–)

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Oh? You have extended the event I see. In that case...

Route 1

A- 7 and 11

B- Fyodor

C- Fluff

D- playing a chess game 😁

I’ve only had this in my inbox since the 19th…

Fyodor x reader

#7 You think you can win? & #11 You’re adorable when you pout.

Fluff-

Words- 1518

Warnings- none well some religious themes. (you know the usual Fyodor god complex)

~

Often nights like this were spent huddled around the fire. Getting the strong, tall, yet malnourished god to settle down and rest was indeed a rare occurrence. Stressed from the recent hardships of the last mission he cuddled against his lover. The warmth of the fire helped to keep his body warm. The shivering he never noticed calming with the warmth of the fur blanket, the fire, and the presence of his lover. It was truly an unusual sight to behold, even as the moonlight shed its dazzling beams through stained-glass windows. If anybody were to catch sight of this spectacle, they may be confused and accuse Fyodor of not being the real Fyodor. This was the side of him, even the man's lover hardly saw. A gentle calm in the thunder of his complexes. He showed you the calm side of god because he thought his lover (like himself) was above all other beings on this earth. If he were the god of this world, that made them his guardian angel. Maybe one day this mortal would be more to him than that, they were already settled inside his cold heart, but maybe one day he would make them a deity within a similar perspective as he was. 

As you sat cuddled against him, you noted the distraction within his eyes. To others, he still appeared well calculated and focused, but to you, somebody who knew him, he was far from calm. He never went into details about who he was outside your life or what he did. The only starts to him you truly knew were what he did tell you. The risk of loving him, his views on this hell-bent earth, how some people considered him, and of course, you knew he killed. It wasn’t a problem for you though, only because you had found out after he’d stolen your heart, and made you his in both mind and body. You believed he was making a better world, for the Fyodor you knew was different from the Fyodor the agency, mafia, and even the Decay of angels knew. Unlike the others, you knew that there were still shards of humanity within him. The way he protects you against people, the way he’d look at you when he was truly exhausted, and on the verge of passing out. He spoiled you with his music, his touch, words, and gifts. He told you constantly how only you knew the way he could be. From a wrathful and destructive god to a pleasant fair one. He also knew of your intelligence, he understood you were not somebody who would be easily taken advantage of. 

Glancing towards him with a smirk, you placed your lips against the pale male's luke-warm skin. He hummed turning to look at you with disinterested yet excited eyes. He always knew when small unexpected acts of affection appeared from you, something was going on within your head. His violet eyes danced around your expression before his lips parted, and the tired heavy voice that belonged to him met your ear. “Is there something you'd like to request? Use your words, little mouse.” he was always one to tease you, even at times like this he’d refer to you in small degrading names. 

With a small eye roll, you flicked his forehead. “Come on, let’s play a game of chess. You always wind down better doing something you enjoy.” You often requested him to play his cello in times like this, but instead, you offered to play against him. You were not horrible at the game, but he was a god at everything he did. In honesty, you may be an expert player, but challenging him was never a good idea. You had yet to ever request such a thing with him but here you were, doing that exact thing. He stood up immediately from the couch. His confident smirk, placing itself back on his lips. Looking down at you he offered out his hand. Pulling you to your feet as you walked to his chess table. 

Sitting across from him, you leaned your head on your hand with a confident smile. His eyes watched you with a brimming curiosity in their violet hues. He understood the position you settled in was mocking his own posture. He tended to rest his chin atop his hands whenever he was getting cocky or had a brilliant idea. This thought made him chuckle; he was not cocky. In his thoughts, that was the attitude a god such as himself ought to have. However, to see you mocking his stance was an amusing sight. There was never a truly dull moment with you in his sight.

Moving both his hands under his chin, he tilted his head ever so slightly. His eyes staring into yours as he smirked. "You think you can win?" he asked with his gaze never faltering or becoming less intense. That gaze alone was enough to cause a slight contraction in your movement. While many would have not seen the alteration of your eyes, the slight dilation, the momentary flex of your back and corner of your mouth, it was all too easy for Fyodor to notice. A contempt, larger smirk spread evenly across his face at the sight. His eyes grew dangerously clouded as he turned the board and provided you with white, the first move. The mock that rested with that action had your blood boiling with annoyance

Rolling your eyes you smiled kindly but held within your tongue a sharp snarl. “We play for a max of 45 then. No longer.” In an attempt to appear threatening, you spoke to him using the Russian you had learned. This seemed to gather his attention rather sharply. He hummed with a nod but did not reply, waiting for you to start the game.

Starting the game by moving a pawn to D5 he snickered watching you. With a lazy gesture, he moved his own pawn to D6. From there the two of you moved your pieces throughout the board. He played recklessly, like a true master, he was fine with sacrificing any piece he saw fit. While you played to counter this way of playing. Avoiding the pawns he wanted to be sacrificed. It took him all of five to work around that counter. The two of you changed the play type every few minutes. With a confident smirk, you played out your final two moves. If he were to place his pieces the way you expected then you would win with 5 minutes left to spare.

It was no shock the clever Russian man had seen this three turns ago. Having made a small counter if you went the way you went. So as that piece moved forward he brought his queen the opposite of what you needed to capture his king and win. Seeing the slight shock among your eyes as you panicked and made a move to counter, induced a soft chuckle. Holding back a sigh as you noted you still had the upper hand, at least that was what he was letting you on to think. As a master in deceiving his opponents and giving them false hope, it was something he rather enjoyed. So with the movement of one piece, he lifted a hand and swiped your king. “Checkmate darling,” he smirked, watching your eyes widen and that confidence from earlier fall. He’d admit it eventually, tell you how you lasted the longest against him than any other had. He may have shed that compliment to you now, but watching the shock settle into an angry pout led him to chuckle. Reaching a hand across the table he placed it against your cheek. Running his thumb close to your lip he watched the shiver run down your spine. The chilly cold of his hands against your warmth was a dark contrast between the two of you. “You’re adorable when you pout.” he hummed leaning in to peck your forehead. He was not one to show so much affection but as you melted within his touch he decided to show you more of his gentle side. “We shall play again, twas not the most interesting, but it was not boring either. You managed to surprise me, little mouse.'' The way he remains collected and his words smooth, yet teasing and threatening, was always a shiver that ran through you. 

He released your cheek and stood. His feet carrying him to stand next to where you were seated. With a single fluid tug, you were standing and against his chest as he played with your hair. Looking down at your eyes he noted the tired embers starting to dull. Debating between resting with you tonight, or finishing the work you had pulled him from, inflicted a tender sigh. Lifting you into his arms he carried you off to bed. Lying beside you, he buried his face into your neck. Relaxed within the warmth of the sheets and your body his eyes betrayed him as he fell into sleep with you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Experian doxes the world (again)

The nonconsensually compiled dossiers of personal information that Experian assembled on the entire population of the USA may currently be exposed via dozens, perhaps hundreds, of sites, thanks to a grossly negligent security defect in Experian's API.

The breach was detected by Bill Demirkapi, a security researcher and RIT sophomore, and reported on by Brian Krebs, the excellent independent security reporter.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2021/04/experian-api-exposed-credit-scores-of-most-americans/

Experian, like Equifax, has unilaterally arrogated to itself the right to collect, store and disseminate our personal information, and, like Equifax, it faces little regulation, including obligations not to harm us or penalties when it does.

Experian's API allows criminals to retrieve your credit info by supplying your name and address, information that is typically easy to find, especially in the wake of multiple other breaches, such as Doordash's 5m-person 2019 breach and Drizzly's 2.5m-person 2020 breach.

Demirkapi explains that the API is implemented by many, many sites across the internet, and while Experian assured Krebs that this bug only affected a single site, it did not explain how it came to that conclusion.

Demirkapi discovered the defect while he was searching for a student loan vendor. There is a way to defend yourself against this attack: freeze your credit report. Credit freezes were made free (but opt-in only) in 2018, after the Equifax breach.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/09/credit-freezes-are-free-let-the-ice-age-begin/

Indeed, you may have already been thinking about the Equifax breach as you read this. In many ways, that breach was a wasted opportunity to seriously re-examine the indefensible practices of the credit-reporting industry, which had not been seriously scrutinized since 1976.

1976 was the year that Congress amended the Equal Credit Opportunity Act after hearing testimony about the abuses of the Retail Credit Company - a company that swiftly changed its name to "Equifax" to distance itself from the damning facts those hearings brought to light.

Retail Credit/Equifax invented credit reporting when it was founded in Atlanta in 1899. For more than half a century, it served as a free market Stasi to whom neighbors could quietly report each other for violating social norms.

Retail Credit's permanent, secret files recorded who was suspected of being gay, a "race-mixer" or a political dissident so that banks and insurance companies could discriminate against them.

https://www.jacobinmag.com/2017/09/equifax-retail-credit-company-discrimination-loans

This practice was only curbed when a coalition of white, straight conservative men discovered that they'd been misidentified as queers and commies and demanded action, whereupon Congress gave Americans limited rights to see and contest their secret files.

But these controls were never more than symbolic. Congress couldn't truly blunt the power of these private-sector spooks, because the US government depends on them to determine eligibility for Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.

It's a public-private partnership from hell. Credit reporting bureaux collect data the government is not legally allowed to collect on its own, then sells that data to the government (Equifax makes $200m/year doing this).

https://web.archive.org/web/20171004200823/http://www.cetusnews.com/business/Equifax-Work-for-Government-Shows-Company%E2%80%99s-Broad-Reach.HkexS6JAq-.html

These millions are recycled into lobbying efforts to ensure that the credit reporting bureaux can continue to spy on us, smear us, and recklessly endanger us by failing to safeguard the files they assemble on us.

This is bad for America, but it's great for the credit reporting industry. The Big Three bureaux (Equifax, Experian and Transunion) have been on a decade-long buying spree, gobbling up hundreds of smaller companies.

These acquisitions lead directly to breaches: a Big Three company that buys a startup inherits its baling-wire-and-spit IT system, built in haste while the company pursued growth and acquisition.

These IT systems have to be tied into the giant acquiring company's own databases, adding to the dozens of other systems that have been cobbled together from previous acquisitions.

This became painfully apparent after the Equifax breach, so much so that even GOP Congressional Committee chairs called the breach "entirely preventable" and the result of "aggressive growth." But they refused to put any curbs on future acquisitions.

https://thehill.com/policy/technology/420582-house-panel-issues-scathing-report-on-entirely-preventable-equifax-data

A lot has happened since Equifax, so you may have forgotten just how fucked up that situation was. Equifax's IT was so chaotic that they couldn't even encrypt the data they'd installed. Two months later, they "weren't sure" if it had been encrypted.

https://searchsecurity.techtarget.com/news/450429891/Following-Equifax-breach-CEO-doesnt-know-if-data-is-encrypted

*Six months* before the breach, outside experts began warning Equifax that they were exposing our data:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/ne3bv7/equifax-breach-social-security-numbers-researcher-warning

The *only* action Equifax execs took? They sold off a shit-ton of stock:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-03-14/sec-says-former-equifax-executive-engaged-in-insider-trading

The Equifax breach exposed the arrogance and impunity of the Big Three. Afterward, Equifax offered "free" credit monitoring to the people they'd harmed. One catch: it was free for a year; after that, they'd automatically bill you, annually, forever.

https://web.archive.org/web/20170911025943/https://therealnews.com/t2/story:19960:Equifax-Data-Breach-is-a-10-out-of-10-Scandal

And you'd pay in another way if you signed up for that "free" service: the fine print took away your right to sue Equifax, forever, no matter how they harmed you:

https://www.ibtimes.com/political-capital/equifax-lobbied-kill-rule-protecting-victims-data-breaches-2587929

The credit bureaux bill themselves as arbiters of the public's ability to take responsibility for their choices, but after the breach, the CEO blamed the entire affair on a single "forgetful" flunky:

https://www.engadget.com/2017-10-03-former-equifax-ceo-blames-breach-on-one-it-employee.html

Then he stepped down and pocketed a $90m salary that his board voted in favor of:

https://fortune.com/2017/09/26/equifax-ceo-richard-smith-net-worth/

Of course they did! His actions made the company so big that even after the breach, the IRS  picked it to run its anti-fraud. Equifax got $7.5m from Uncle Sucker, and would have kept it except that its anti-fraud site was *serving malware*:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/equifax-irs-data-breach-malware-discovered/

Equifax eventually settled all the claims against it for $700m in 2019:

https://nypost.com/2019/07/19/equifax-agrees-to-pay-700m-after-massive-data-breach/

But it continued to average five errors per credit report:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2019/02/11/rep-alexandria-ocasio-cortez-takes-aim-equifax-credit-scoring/

And it continued to store sensitive user-data in an unencrypted database whose login and password were "admin" and "admin":

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/equifax-password-username-admin-lawsuit-201118316.html

Congress introduced multiple bills to force Equifax, Experian and Transunion to clean up their act.

None of those bills passed.

https://www.axios.com/after-equifaxs-mega-breach-nothing-changed-1536241622-baf8e0cf-d727-43db-b4d4-77c7599fff1e.html

The IRS shrugged its shoulders at America, telling the victims of Equifax's breach that their information had probably already leaked before Equifax doxed them, so no biggie:

https://thehill.com/policy/cybersecurity/355862-irs-significant-number-of-equifax-victims-already-had-info-accessed-by

Since then there have been other mass breaches, most recently the Facebook breach that exposed 500m people's sensitive data. That data can be merged with data from other breaches and even from "anonymized" data-sets that were deliberately released:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/21/re-identification/#pseudonymity

And while you can theoretically prevent your data from being stolen using the current Experian vulnerability by freezing your account, that's not as secure as it sounds.

Back in 2017, Brian Krebs reported that Experian's services were so insecure that anyone could retreive the PIN to unlock a frozen credit report by ticking a box on a website:

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2017/09/experian-site-can-give-anyone-your-credit-freeze-pin/

That was just table-stakes - it turned out that ALL the credit bureaux had an arrangement with AT&T's telecoms credit agency that was so insecure that *anyone* could unlock your locked credit report:

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/05/another-credit-freeze-target-nctue-com/

These companies came into existence to spy on Americans in order to facilitate mass-scale, racist, ideological and sexual discrimination. They gather data of enormous import and sensitivity - data no one should be gathering, much less retaining and sharing.

They handle this data in cavalier ways, secure in the knowledge that their integration with the US government wins them powerful stakeholders who will ensure that the penalties for the harm they inflict add up to less than profits those harms generate for their shareholders.

This is why America needs a federal privacy law with a "private right of action" - the ability to sue companies that harm you, rather than hoping that federal prosecutors or regulators will decide to enforce the law.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/16/where-it-hurts/#sue-facebook

Experian promises that this breach only affects one company that mis-implemented its API. We would be suckers to take it at its word. It didn't know about this breach until a college sophomore sent in a bug report - how would it know if there were others?

Image: KC Green (modified) https://kcgreendotcom.com/

[an-aspiring-jester]

A tiny bit of rant in Maiko’s defense

Note: this is just my personal reading of the canon and everyone’s entitled to have their own interpretation! I just wanted to get it off my chest.

It is often argued that Mai is an obstacle in Zuko’s redemption arc. She encourages passivity and maintaining the status quo. And I totally agree! She’s the girl that was literally taught to “sit still and be quiet” her whole life! She doesn’t talk about Zuko’s problems not because she’s invalidating his feelings but because she sees no reason to dwell on things neither of them has any control over. Keeping things to herself is her coping mechanism.

Her joke about not wanting to hear his life story falls flat - true. She tells him to stop worrying immediately after - that’s not the response he needed right now. But her heart was in the right place. She already knows his story. She wants Zuko to be safe and happy. And she thinks that maintaining the status quo would keep him safe. THAT’S why she discourages him from attending the war meeting. She knows that publicly burning children is wrong - but she can’t see any other way out than to simply play by the Firelord's rules. She’s given up to the circumstances, she’s depressed. This is not the right course of action, obviously, and it clashes with Zuko’s need to stand up against his father.

Zuko desperately tries to fit back in the Fire Nation. He lets himself be distracted with cute little dates and grab whatever little moments of happiness he can in the hostile environment. They both do. 

Mai’s entire life strategy is to just... wait out or ignore the bad stuff. You can’t do anything about it, just give up. And YES - for most of the season they DO have a passivity problem that keeps feeding itself.

So yes, Zuko NEEDED to leave Mai behind to do what’s right. But instead of insisting that Mai was holding him back, can we acknowledge that Zuko pushes Mai forward?!

Because the Boiling Rock happens. And Mai, for the first time in her life, stands up for what’s important to her. She OVERCOMES her passivity problem - thanks to Zuko! Yes, at the moment she does it for love rather than political agenda - but that’s still amazing character growth! “I love Zuko more than I fear you” - it’s one of the strongest lines in Atla! This basically sums the whole show up: love is stronger than fear.

We tend to focus so much on what ZUKO needs in his character arc, that we forget that Zuko may be precisely what OTHER character’s arc needs.

Zuko gives Mai agency. Even if she never before questioned Fire Nation’s ideals, she is challenged to do so now. And she trusts Zuko. She first fell for the boy who recklessly stood up for others, and she finally gained the courage to do so herself. (Hey - she pretty much accepted she may actually DIE at Azula’s hands for this! That’s selfless sacrifice.) She cares about him more than anything and she can grow into a better person by his side.

They’re both 16-year-old kids that still have a lot to learn - mainly in the communication skills department. I agree with all the arguments that they can unintentionally hurt each other a lot - as evident in the Beach episode. Zuko has trouble speaking up about his inner turmoil due to trauma, he was taught to never question the Fire Nation and tries to fit in a role that’s expected of him - but we can’t blame it entirely on Mai. She may not be the most emotionally open person ever, but the important thing is that they KEEP TRYING. They care about each other and are putting work into the relationship. It’s clear that after that their communication got at least a bit better (and don’t even get me started how emotive, open and comfortable Mai is around Zuko... that includes showing negative emotions, too. And that’s what Zuko wanted for her, btw.) so we have no reason to believe they won’t work through their issues after the finale. Also - I disagree with claims that Mai is controlling or abusive - “don’t ever break up with me again” is a just lighthearted jab at his less than classy breakup note - it can even be argued that him confronting her openly would spare them some of the problems, who knows how Mai would react? Perhaps she would have joind him or at least helped him with an escape? So it’s actually an argument for Zuko to NOT run away from his problems and confront her directly - you know, like you’re supposed to do in a relationship, instead of just assuming what’s best for the other person. Also - his goofy grin at that remark is proof enough that he didn’t read it as a real threat at all. (And his dreamlike expression when he so much as mentions her name, or literal heart-eyes he makes upon seeing her before his coronation clearly indicates he’s just as head over heels for her as she is for him.) (And no, he didn’t have time or power to free her from jail right after the Agni Kai, it doesn’t mean he’d forgotten about her. I agree that writers could have handled it better but there’s only so much you can fit in the episode timeframe.)

To sum up: they aren’t the perfect couple. YET. But NO COUPLE is, at least not at first. Love needs a lot of work. Both of them still need to grow and they’re gonna make mistakes. People hurt each other sometimes, it’s inevitable. And sometimes you have to put your own well-being first and walk away. But as long as the other person is willing to work with you - as we see both of them do - you can build something beautiful and lasting together. That’s why Maiko is my favorite ship in Atla. (Sukka is just too perfect, so I don’t think about them a lot. XD)

[linkspooky]

Yuji vs Megumi: Round 2

The literal inciting incident of the manga is what starts the conflict between Yuji and Megumi. Yuji recklessly chooses to sacrifice himself without thinking of the consequences in an attempt to save Megumi, and Megumi is unable to stop Yuji and thus feels guilty for letting him get possessed by Sukuna. This conflict has continued throughout the manga with both boys wanting to save the other but falling into conflict instead. Chapter 119 analysis of Jujutsu Kaisen under the cut. 

1. Saving People vs. Saving Yuji

There’s always been a large difference in the way both Yuji and Megumi save people. Yuji wants to save everybody regardless of the cirucmstances. Megumi is mindful of the circumstances, and because of that he holds himself back from acting when he can. 

This difference is what leads to the first conflict. Yuji swallows the finger and sacrifices himself, and Megumi isn’t able to stop him in time. Ever since that day the two of them have had two different goals. Yuji wants to selflessly sacrifice his body for everyone after he’s ate all 20 fingers of Sukuna, and Megumi wants to selfishly save Yuji from his predicament because he feels responsible for letting Yuji eat the finger in the first place. 

Yuji believes that eating Sukuna’s fingers is a completely selfless gesture, and that by doing this and eventually choosing to die he will be helping more people. Megumi believes that protecting Yuji is his responsibility and he’ll be saving someone even if it goes against Jujutsu Regulations. They both cling onto a simple, heroic notion of saving people only for it to later get deconstructed for both of them. 

Megumi and Yuji’s first confrntation is in the Fearsome Womb arc. We see that Megumi’s not as altruistic as he appears to be. He sees a crying mother begging to see if her son is alright, and then says that same son isn’t worth saving while he’s alive because he committed a crime in the past. 

This gives us a more complex picture of saving people. Megumi is saying that people he personally deems as bad aren’t worth saving. Megumi doesn’t know if the man was sorry for what he did, or if he was trying to do better. He was simply judging him from black and white standards of bad or good. At this point before his confrontation with Yuji he’s seeing a crimminal, and not a person. Despite the fact that that person has done bad things, they are still a human being with people who care about him, the same way Megumi has loved ones. However, Megumi very, very selectively chooses who he empathizes with and who he sees as human based upon standards of good or bad. He’s lawful. He purposefully tries to hold himself back and obey laws because he craves that kind of order and justice. 

Megumi may not be right to approach saving people in such a black and white manner by dividing them into good and bad, but he does make a point that the act of saving people is messy. Basically, everything you make is a choice. The choice to save someone, or not save someone is also a choice. When you save them, that choice is going to have consequences. You are responsible for the consequences of your actions, both intended and unintended. What Megumi is saying is that the world is messy, and good intentions, or even good actions won’t always result in good results but you’re still responsible regardless.

Megumi very very selectively chooses who to save. He thinks if he’s careful with his choices, he can control the results more. However, the real reasult of his actions is that he’s always holding himself back, as Gojou and Sukuna have both pointed out. Megumi could have fought off a single finger cursed womb but chose not to, because he doesn’t want to take agency for himself.

He’s too afraid of the unintended consequences of his actions that it makes him hesitant to act. Whereas Yuji ignores the unintended consequences of his actions and rushes right in, and makes sloppy mistakes. This is a flaw that the two of them when working together can overcome, but it’s hard for them to work together. 

In the Origin of Obedience Arc which is the first arc where Yuji and Megumi fight together again after Yuji’s “Death”, this idea that who’s to say someone you save won’t kill someone in the future? comes back again. 

Yuji believes his action in consuming the fingers will save people. However, there are both intended and unintended consequences of his actions. Yuji’s choice to eat in the finger has the unintended consequence of triggering other curses elsewhere. People got hurt because of his decision. 

Yuji and Megumi both come to this revelation. However, rather than talk about it they also make a deliberate choice to hide this information from each other in the name of protecting each other from it. This is the only way that Yuji and Megumi know how to protect each other, not with open communication and cooperation, but with lying to each other, and each of them deciding to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the other. 

When Yuji and Megumi confront each other, and are forced to fight they come to personal revelations about themselves and develop their ideas. Megumi realized he wanted to save Yuji because of his own selfishness, he’s not someone who acts entirely lawful in every situation. Yuji realized he was afraid of dying, but wished for Megumi to have a long life. 

The manga isn’t suggesting that Yuji is entirely to blame for the people who get killed by Sukuna and the cursed spirits, it’s just saying the situation is more complex than either Megumi or Yuji thought it was. There will always be both intended and unintended consequences of Yuji’s actions, even if he only has good intentions, and he ahs to grapple with both. However, both Megumi and Yuji chose not to face that fact at this point in time. 

Jujutsu Kaisen is a manga that questions the heroic notions of saving people, and being saved. It is always more complicated, and difficult that it appears to be. Gojou can’t save people even though he’s the strongest. Megumi can’t always follow the rules. Yuji can’t save people with good intentions alone. 

Yuji and Megumi tend to be avoidant of this complicated reality, rather than face it head on. Yuji wants to believe that saving people is a matter of being strong enough. Megumi wants to believe that saving people is a matter of being careful and following rules, and they’re both wrong. They also have difficulty facing each other which is why the next time we see them fight together they can barely cooperate. 

Yuji and Megumi are two people who just want to help each other, but instead they end up just as often fighting against one another. Before Yuji and Megumi decide to split up, they both make a promise. They are not allowed to die. 

Remember Yuji and Megumi are always trying to save each other. That’s what lies at the heart of their conflict, they just have wildly different methods of saving each other. However, we see in the later chapters both Megumi and Yuji break their promise to each other when they’re alone and split up. 

Yuji makes a choice. To die fighting against Choso. 

Once again this has everything in common with his choice to eat the fingers. He thinks his death will help both Gojou-sensei, and his upper classmen. His good intention is to sacrifice himself for the sake of everyone. If he just takes down Choso with him, then he’ll be able to do something good for everybody even with his death. 

However, once again it’s not that simple. Yuji had other choices. He could have run away. Even in the limited choices he had available because Choso got a few lucky shots in and Yuji wasn’t able to overcome him with strength alone he could have tried to survive. His choice was to accept his death, and his attempt at self sacrifice had an unintended consequence. 

Yuji’s unconscious body was fed the fingers. Because Yuji chose to die, he had the unintended consequence of having Sukuna take over his body and rampage. 

Megumi makes the same choice to try to sacrifice himself as well. He even says the same thing to Yuji, an apology for choosing to die first even though he promised he wouldn’t die. 

Once again, Megumi’s intention was to sacrifice himself to defeat a single opponent hoping that this would contribute to helping everybody else. However, not only does this not happen, but Megumi also contributes to Sukuna’s rampage. 

Sukuna went all out and used his Territorial Expansion, because Megumi summoned Mahoraga for him to fight. Megumi chose to sacrifice himself. Yuji chose to sacrifice himself. However, instead of saving others, innocent people were slaughtered by Sukuna. 

They are not entirely responsible for Sukuna’s actions of course, but now at this point of the manga people have died, as a result of Megumi, and Yuji’s actions. 

That’s why Yuji is making such a pained face in the last panel of chapter 119. He knows now what Sukuna said in the origin of obedience arc is true. Him letting Sukuna rampage has killed innocent people at this point. Megumi’s decision to spare Yuji instead of giving him immediate execution has killed innocent people. You ate me... to help, to help many people right? You brat, because of you people will die. 

[illyaana]

Birthday Special: Mashirao Ojiro

credits to the artist who drew the picture above!

Tags: Timeskip! Ojiro x Hero! Reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Fluff

Your Hero Name: Pavlin (Peacock in Bulgarian)

Your Quirk: Peacock

When you wish, a bunch of peacock feathers form from the small of your back. Much like Hawks' quirk, they listen to your orders and can become swords. They also double as a shield. You also have a telekinetic connection with them too. The drawback is that removing too many in an hour can make you bleed.

Synopsis: You were tracking down two vigilantes. As you were severely injured, you sent a notice to all the heroes where you believed they were heading. After you healed, you continued to follow them. Soon, they removed their disguises and you found out it was Toga and Dabi. Toga shoved a needle in your arm and you thought that she was only drawing out blood, but you were wrong.

Word Count: 1879

The two vigilantes were relentlessly attacking you. Their guns and daggers came at you from left and right, forming multiple gashes and wounds on your body.

You knew you were reaching your limit. The feathers on your back were stained by the blood dripping due to you using so many of your feathers without any time to recuperate.

You jumped from the building and hid in an alleyway. You were planning to give yourself 5 mins to let your body rest while you use the smaller feathers of yours to track the two armed men.

By injecting a syringe full of green liquid formed by some of the heroes you knew who had quirks that could heal, you felt the wounds in your body seal and heal while you focused on the task at hand - to identify where they were going.

You were in your subconscious, feeling the movement of your feathers in a makeshift map of Musutafu in your head. You memorised the city like the back of your hand, it was required to be one of the more efficient heroes of Japan.

You knew they knew you weren't physically following them anymore, so they'd lead you straight to where they intended to go - and it oh so happened to be the base of the League of Villains.

Using your phone, you alerted all the heroes nearby the base with an app designed by the safety commission to keep an eye out for the two as you recharged.

Soon, you felt your body was ready to continue with the mission you were originally conducting.

Using the boots designed by your agency, you jumped and used your feathers to swerve to the right. Soon, you were jumping from building to building to catch up with the two men you were tracking.

You heard your phone ring and you picked it up,

"What is it Ojiro?" you said, speaking loudly.

"Where are you, most of us are waiting outside of the base to get those two," he stated with a worried tone.

You chuckled. "Don't worry about me too much, honey. Your fiance is stronger than you think."

"Still, where are you?" He asked again, now with a more stern tone.

You sighed. "Look up, stupid."

You saw him look to the top of the building opposite the base and instantly spotted you. You were leaning against the wall with your arms crossed and your phone by your ear.

You saw his face turn pale and you instantly turned around.

The two males smiled as one of them shoved a needle into your upper arm, drawing blood from it.

Soon, a muddy-like shell covering their bodies fell from the both of them, revealing Dabi and Toga.

"Pavlin wasn't as strong as they said, right, Dabi?" Toga said smiling, revealing her two fangs.

Dabi smirked as he walked towards you and grabbed your chin.

"They're hot too," he said as he trailed his fingers on your lips, "It isn't fair that Tailboy managed to secure this hot of a person to himself."

You bit Dabi's finger and pulled on the syringe, causing all the blood drawn to fall on the floor.

Using your feathers, you pinned both Toga and Dabi to the wall.

While Dabi tried to burn the feathers, you used a flashlight and showed a signal to the heroes perched outside of the base and turned their attention to you.

Ojiro was soon behind you along with Shoto and Aizawa. He quickly grabbed you before you fell due to the blood loss.

"You okay?" he asked as he gripped you from the sides. You could only nod, unable to say a word.

You felt your feathers begin to fall from your back.

You didn't tell them to.

They fell on their own.

You began to vomit out blood, copious amounts falling from your lips.

Soon, you heard Dabi laughing hysterically. "So how is it being quirkless, Pavlin?"

Your face paled.

Quirkless?

"We weren't only taking your blood, you know," Toga explained, "We also injected you with something the League has been developing - a serum to remove quirks."

Toga took the knife from her hands and cut through your feathers. "You were our first test subject, and it clearly worked!" She began chuckling, "You are relieved from your duties, Pavlin. It was a pleasure being your opponent."

You gripped Ojiro's arm, not wanting to act recklessly.

You were no longer Pavlin.

You chuckled lowly.

You took one of your longer feathers from the ground, touching the very tip of it.

It was still sharp.

It could still cut.

You looked at Ojiro.

You didn't need to say anything.

He already knew what you wanted to do.

You got off the floor and stood in a fighting stance, wiping the blood from the sides of your mouth.

"At least let me finish my job before I am relieved of my duties, Toga."

You ran to her, using your boots to get a high distance so that you came to her at an angle.

You were going to stab this bloodsucker and give her a taste of her own medicine.

Thanks to Shoto, they couldn't move. The ice beneath them had secure them to where they stood.

Every single time Dabi tried melting it off, Shoto just formed more ice.

The next few seconds were a blur, but you knew you stabbed Toga at her right shoulder. You made sure to push it in deep, letting the finer hairs of your former feather enter her skin, preventing her from using her dominant hand ever again.

Dabi stared at his partner as she screamed.

While she was writhing in pain, you looked at him.

"I am not done with you get."

A dark smile reached your lips as you jumped off of Toga's body and grabbed two of your smaller feathers.

"Get out of the way!" you screamed at the others as you ran straight to Dabi.

You threw one small feather while running and it immediately hit Dabi's lower arm.

"Even if I wasn't with Ojiro, I would've never fall in love with you let alone get in a relationship with you."

You threw the other smaller arrow to reach his lips vertically, slicing each lip in half, "...so don't you ever touch my lips ever again."

Everyone surrounding you sighed in relief when you kneeled down, catching your breath.

But Ojiro wasn't going to let this end like how it did.

He was furious.

That quirk was the only thing that reminded you of your family that died so many years ago.

It was the only thing that you could call a present from your family.

He knew how life was for you as an orphan who was never adopted.

He remembered how you'd go on and on about your late parents who taught you the basics of your quirk.

He remembered how you cried when you told him about how they passed off.

He knew how much that quirk meant to you.

And all he could see now was red.

"How dare you do that to them!" He screamed at the two of them.

You saw the anger in your fiance's eyes as he gave a death stare to the two villains in front of you.

"Ojiro, I have already-" he touched the top of your head, signalling you to let him speak on your behalf.

"They may be willing to let this slide with just a few cuts and bruises, but not me."

Ojiro was going to fling himself off the pole beside him but you managed to stand in time to stop him.

You made him crouch beside you and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Ojiro, but I don't need your name dirtied because of what happened to me," you pat his back.

"Besides, they have injuries they can't heal that will affect their line of work because of me, and that has given me all the satisfaction I needed," you ended, a dark smirk on your face as you faced the two villains.

Soon, the two of them were apprehended and sent off to be contained. You and Ojiro headed back to your shared apartment and began to watch an episode of the show you both were watching together.

You loved the domestic life that you both shared. You did not crave adventure. So did Ojiro.

You both loved the indoors. Just being surrounded by comfort after a long day's work is all you both needed to re-energize yourselves.

You saw the popcorn bowl empty and headed to prepare more until Ojiro stopped you.

He turned off the TV and gave his wholehearted attention to you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You were all prepared to let it die off with the severe injuries of two villains, yet those six words managed to form your tears to form.

"I spent only four years with them, Ojiro. I lost them when I was going to turn 5 - the day right before my birthday," you began, "My quirk was the only thing keeping them alive within me. I lost my whole family thanks to one measle injection I could've easily avoided."

Ojiro pulled you into his lap and softly placed his tail on you. He knew you liked to touch it when you were sad or angry.

"Your quirk wasn't the only thing keeping them alive, love. The fact you worked so hard to become someone who your parents could be so proud of, the fact you didn't falter through all those trying times in your life, the fact you stood tall when everyone doubted you - that fighting spirit of yours," he touched the middle of your chest with his finger," That keeps them alive."

"You will always remember the training they gave you when they found out your quirk, right?" You nodded.

"You will keep the memories you've made with them in those precious years, right?" You nodded.

"You will always carry your last name, even when you're married, correct?" You nodded.

"Then what is there to worry about?" He said, pinching your cheeks.

"I fell in love with you because of who you are. I will always remember you as the little feisty person who made me see my talent and made me love myself."

He placed his head on your shoulder, rubbing the side of his face in the crook of your neck.

"You made me the hero I am today, and you will be known throughout the years as someone to be respected. And it's all thanks to your parents - to your family, isn't it?" He ended, giving a kiss on your neck.

This was it.

This is why you love this man.

He knew the main reason behind your pain and made it go away.

This is why you are going to marry him and make him the happiest man on Earth.

You turned to face him and gave a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, Ojiro."

He just smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, too. "Thank you, Y/N."

If the world was something that gave you a blessing amongst an array of curses, you both knew that he was your blessing as you were his.

Happy Ojiro Day! The Tailman himself is totally underrated, so let's give him some love today, hmm? (✿◡‿◡) As always, thanks for all the reblogs and the likes. I hope you enjoyed it :3

As usual, if you have any ideas or headcanons or just wanna talk to me, tell me here!

[satorugojjo]

Ok so this is very much BNHA manga spoilers about Bakugou but I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT

When Deku is fighting Shigaraki in the last arc and Shigaraki suddenly aims blades or whatever at Deku.... and suddenly it switches to Bakugou’s POV?? Let’s talk about that. The fact that Bakugou suddenly thinks “I didn’t even think in that moment, my body moved on its own” and he SAVES Midoriya and takes the blades himself???? I’m gonna go feral for this friendship.

Bakugou, who was only concerned with winning, to whom saving people was just a side effect, suddenly had a whole montage of Midoriya’s face playing in his heart. He moved faster than he ever could, and it wasn’t just “atonement” in that moment. He truly cares about Midoriya, and in that moment he just wanted to save his friend. When he wakes up, the first person he asks for is Midoriya, and he has to be physically restrained when he wants to go see him and make sure he’s okay. This is not just a parallel to Midoriya running into save people recklessly and his first attempt to save Bakugou way back when he was quirkless just because he considered Kacchan his friend, but it’s also a parallel to Midoriya thinking about everybody who he was concerned for, and at the forefront was one word: “Kacchan”. 

You know what else it’s a parallel of? Midoriya, who is only concerned with saving people indulging himself in a case of “imma WHOOP your ass” every single time an opponent insults Bakugou and calls him weak. He snapped with Shinzou, and he snapped with Shigaraki when both insulted Bakugou. When it comes down to it, Midoriya will fight to win and Bakugou will fight to save ONLY when it comes down to each other. 

The friendship between the two and the character development ever since the first chapter, ever since Deku vs Kacchan Part 2, ever since Endeavour’s Agency has been building and building to this moment where Bakugou is finally the reliable friend and where he finally views Midoriya as an equal. He’s concerned for Midoriya and he finally sees him for who he is, and he actively understands and predicts his actions and THEN BACKS HIM UP. He followed Midoriya out of his own volition, not just for his own revenge but to ensure Midoriya had backup and wasn’t alone, and he knew when to stay out of the way and let Midoriya handle things. Bakugou meeting Endeavour wasn’t just a way to learn how a No.1 hero operates but how someone can atone for their past, how to avoid all of that in the future. He paid attention to how Todoroki dealt with his dad, how Midoriya helped Shoto deal with all that and he’s changed to view the boy he bullied as a partner, rival, friend, teammate. Both Endeavour and Bakugou may never be forgiven for their violence, but the only thing they can do is atone for the past instead of just apologizing and getting over it. Bakugou realizes that nothing more than pure action will help bridge the gap HE created with Midoriya, and even if they’re not friends, he must still atone. And as we see when Bakugou takes the fall for Midoriya, he does see Midoriya as a friend.

Midoriya on the other hand has never stopped looking at Kacchan as anything other than admirable but also has stopped thinking he was destined to be his punching bag. The fact that he still calls Bakugou “Kacchan” means there was never any doubt to his fondness for Bakugou. His own strength, drive and unbreakable will is what enables him to not just tolerate, but appreciate Bakugou as a friend (something Kirishima also figured out on Day 1). All Might said they could learn from each other, and that one day Bakugou will be able to speak openly to Midoriya, and every arc has been building up to that moment of true teamwork. 

I NEED to know what Midoriya said to Bakugou before he left, whether they spoke, what Todoroki and Bakugou both thought now that all their lives are so interlinked. The current story has never been more interesting or nuanced or meatier and IT’S GOING TOO SLOWLY and I just.. am losing my MIND. 

Anyway Midoriya and Bakugou’s friendship/partnership is literally a 300-chapter arc that is only just starting and all of it threatens me with tears with how beautifully it develops. These two are the main characters and no matter what arcs there are, the character that’s poured into both of them and the symbiosis between the two is what gives BNHA its soul. The series isn’t just about friendship but it’s about family, struggle, mentorship, allies, revenge, trauma, love, hate, acceptance, hope. Everything else is just window dressing. 

(also you KNOW that Bakugou would have 100% wanted to go with Midoriya - I’m just hoping that becomes canon)

[psychicreadsgirl]

The Dangers of Kpop : Fantasy and Escapism

Kpop can be great entertainment and fun. Kpop can be a great way to make friends and give encouragement to people. However, kpop can be like a drug. If you think about it, some people become very engaged in kpop that it becomes their whole life. They feel compelled to watch every show/vlive/live show, follow every update of their fav kpop idol(s), read every interview featuring the idol(s), attend concerts if possible or stream them, download many photos, purchase all merchandise or many of them, support all endorsements their idols do, buy the clothes or find them or buy similar ones or wear similar styles of their idols, adopt their mannerisms, or more.

Kpop can become a big escape or fantasyland for people. These days, life is not easy for most people. There’s a lot of unrest around the world. There’s a lot of feelings of unfairness or experiences with racism. There are more and more protests around the world as well. There are concerns regarding the environment, sexism, harassment, inequality, corruption, etc. Nothing seems to be resolved these days. The punishment of offenders that have money, power or fame seems to be nothing/not much these days. These offenders just use their power/wealth/fame to wipe all of their bad deeds away. 

The pain of everything makes many want to escape or search for somewhere of hope. Historically, religion was the source of hope. Religion still is used by many, but there are many that don’t believe in religion anymore. It’s fine to find hope somewhere, but it’s dangerous to become addicted to “hope”/ “fantasy”. 

Kpop paints a dangerous, addicting fantasy. You have beautiful people who are portrayed as “pure” i.e. they’ve never dated and all are hardworking and working towards their dreams. They don’t smoke/do drugs/vape nor do they drink much. They are shy around the opposite sex. Many come from poor/working class families that seem to have “made it”, glitzed up in glam and fancy luxury clothes. Somehow they are all humble too despite their success. Kpop gives that image of underdogs being able to succeed. People always love the underdog story, comes from so many hero movies too. The one that’s always looked down upon/poor/faced with everything against them becomes a hero. Secretly, many of us want to succeed/want to have love/want to fulfill this or that . . . yet life disappoints us.

We seek an outlet and kpop often becomes one of those outlets. It’s fine to use kpop as an outlet or a source of encouragement but to see it along with the entertainment agencies and kpop idols as perfect/utopia is dangerous. You will forget that these idols are humans who make mistakes, who can have flaws, who can do wrong, who can harass and can kill, who can drive recklessly, who can talk bad of others, who can lie, who can cheat, who get tired, who get hurt, who have greed and ambitions, etc. You will forget that kpop agencies are money driven. They act just like any corporation, looking for profit, how to maximize it. Their assets are their idols who they need to maximize.

How to do that?

Maintain that perfect image of their idols

Maintain the fantasy through their idols/music

These days, kpop exploits more than anything: social causes, inequality, promotion of self image/loving oneself, and more. Kpop often romanticizes many issues too like mental health and toxic relationships (i.e. recent songs from some groups about being psycho or having 2 diff personalities...). It’s getting more and more popular to mention that idols have mental health problems or have struggled with them. This is not used just for the idol’s sake. Sometimes the idol doesn’t really have those issues. 

The trend of agencies suing others is odd too. Since when did agencies care so much about their idols? Who are they trying to shut up because they’re being black mailed? Why are they all making a coalition to sue? Suing, honestly, is not very effective to target international malicious commenters. Korean law can’t touch outside of its borders and agencies wouldn’t waste so many resources to tackle all areas. What is the purpose of so many of these agencies doing this? Some food for thought.

Here’s an example of a company that feeds a fantasy for their group and for themselves:

The group is said to come from small humble roots. The company is said to be small. The group’s members have had little to no dating scandals. The group never parties like goes to clubs. The group loves their own families a lot and are close to them. The group’s members are always good and can do no wrong. They are all so close together. They love the fans so much.

The company treats them so well. The company gives them breaks unlike other companies. The company cares about them so much. The company truly believes in encouraging fans and loving fans. 

If the company cares about the group so much, then why film the group while they are on vacation? If the company cares so much about their idols, then why cut the break short or why do they push them to keep dancing/practicing when they’re injured? Why pick endorsements that don’t make sense to the group image? Why keep doing tours constantly? Why outsource music so much? Didn't they want stuff to be organic?

If the company cares so much about the fans then why did they keep relying on fans to provide subtitles for free for so many years? Why keep pumping out merchandise? Why do collabs with only big commercialized brands? Why not local smaller brands that practice safe manufacturing practices and don’t run sweat shops?

The latest message: wishing fans a path only of happiness. It is nothing but a fantasy, a dangerous one.

Its own little world in an app. 

Remove this fantasy and the fans will not be able to withstand the pain aka the truth. 

But it’s time to wake up from this dream, just like how you wake up every day to go to school/go to work/go live out your own life. Live for yourself. Don’t live for others.

[cate-deriana]

Here comes another bonus guide content before the new year. This time everyone analyzed George.

[plsbyallmeans]

Hillary Clinton on Her Surreal Life and New Hulu Doc: “I’m Not the President, and I Got More Votes! It’s So Crazy!”

The former candidate looks back and laughs. What else is she gonna do?

Hillary Clinton sat serenely before me, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. That was my first surprise as I was ushered into a room at a Pasadena hotel to talk to the former Secretary of State and the woman who won the popular vote in the 2016 election about Hulu’s four-part documentary series, Hillary (premieres March 6). Although she’s been accused of being plodding and dour, Clinton exuded buoyant warmth. And then there was her laugh. At first I was convinced that it was deployed for effect. (Politicians get media training; is laughter training a thing?) But gales of it tumbled out so regularly and recklessly that it seemed clear Clinton was just relaxed—maybe for the first time ever?

Sure, sometimes her laughter sounded rueful, but a lot of us feel rueful these days. And while she has stopped ascending the political ladder, Clinton’s name still sparks both adoration and loathing, as well as generalized post-traumatic stress. Some people wish she would withdraw into media exile rather than shadow the current election like the ghost of campaigns past. That gave some pause to Nanette Burstein, the documentary filmmaker behind The Kid Stays in the Picture and American Teen who took on this project in 2018. Burstein knew the Clinton defeat was still a raw wound for liberal America. But it was a cross she was willing to bear, given the complete editorial control and 35 hours of interviews with her subject she was granted, along with leeway to pose any questions she wanted.

I started to ask Clinton how it felt to participate in this legacy-defining project after so many years of having her life’s narrative framed by others, but the word “framed��� triggered an explosive howl of laughter. “By all definitions of that word!” she said, eyes flashing, before collecting herself again.

“I decided to do it because I’m not running for anything and I think my life and my story has parallels with women’s lives and stories and what’s going on in politics,“ Clinton told me resolutely. (This was several weeks before the rumor circulated that Mike Bloomberg was considering asking Clinton to be his running mate.) “Thirty-five hours sitting in a chair answering questions is grueling but I felt like if I didn’t tell my side of the story, who would?” she added with a shrug. “At least there’ll be a baseline: Here’s what actually happened in my life. Here’s what I actually said about it.”

That led to some very uncomfortable conversations about the many scandals that engulfed the Clintons, including her husband’s affair with Monica Lewinsky. (“It was awful what I did,” Bill Clinton tells Burstein, barely able to look at the camera. “I feel terrible about the fact that Monica Lewinsky’s life was defined by it.”) “I had to ask the ex-president of the United States about the most personal thing in his life and why he would make such a decision,” Burstein recalled. “It was very intimidating! But it was about: How did this affect Hillary and her marriage and the repercussions of that, which followed her 20 years later, into this last election.”

The series flickers back and forth between Hillary Clinton’s youth and the present, weaving together a complicated and flattering (if not quite hagiographic) portrait of a woman who’s provoked admiration and abhorrence for much of her life. Sometimes she seems like a real-life Zelig, popping up near the center of American culture for the last half century. But Zelig was a bystander, whereas Hillary got right in the thick of the action, sometimes changing the course of events and others times being swept along by them.

Clinton came of age at the exact moment that the women’s liberation movement was rising, and her 1969 Wellesley commencement speech landed her a spot in Life magazine. As a young lawyer, she wrote briefs as part of the staff for Nixon’s impeachment hearings (decades later, in a savage irony, she saw the process from another angle when her own husband was impeached). After following Bill to Arkansas, she confronted good old boy sexism, encountering judges who thought women shouldn’t be lawyers and constituents who felt the first lady of Arkansas should take her husband’s name. When Bill cheated on her in the White House, some women were furious with Hillary for standing by him. Conversely, when Bill entrusted her with the daunting task of devising a universal health care plan 16 years before Obamacare, right-wing rage, and revulsion boiled over. Footage in the Hulu series features protesters brandishing posters with slogans like “Hillary makes me sick” and “Heil Hillary.” At a Kentucky rally, they even burned her in effigy.

“I was threatened when I went around the country talking about it,” Clinton told me of that heated Hillarycare moment, shuddering at the mention of the burning effigy. “The Secret Service made me wear a bulletproof coat at one event because they had taken guns and knives off of people trying to get into the outdoor event. I thought, Shit, I’m trying to get people health care! It’s not like I’m stealing your firstborn here! What is the matter with you?” she shrieked, howling with laughter. “It was so weird—like, what’s happening here? Were they paid? A lot of them were riled up by talk radio…. But yeah, I had a lot of very unusual experiences.”

In the Hulu series, former adviser Cheryl Mills recalls “Hillary hater sessions” during Clinton’s 2008 campaign for the Democratic nomination: Women complaining that the candidate was too power-hungry or that she’d been weak for staying with Bill. “It was like watching The Exorcist: The bile would just keep coming up,” Mills said. Clinton herself told me that before she ran for president, a psychological researcher warned her she’d have problems with white women “because they don’t want any conflict with their husbands, their fathers, their sons, their brothers, their boss. And white men are not going to vote for you—they didn’t vote for your husband, they didn’t vote for Obama, et cetera. So there was a lot of pressure on these women.”

Whatever your view of Clinton’s politics, Hillary reminds us that she was voted the most admired woman in America in the Gallup Poll for 16 years in a row. (Michelle Obama knocked her off the top slot.) Clinton fervently believes she had the white woman vote nailed down in 2016 “until Jim Comey dropped that letter on me,” she said. “I was going to win, I am absolutely convinced of that…. What happened is that white women left me, because their husbands or their bosses or whatever said, See? See? She is going to jail! It was a very effective assault on me.” The series points out that not only was Clinton’s career shaped by her own husband’s infidelity, but it was derailed once again by the sexual misbehavior of Anthony Weiner, husband of her top aide, Huma Abedin. The FBI probe into his sexting a teenage girl ultimately led to Comey’s announcement that they were reopening the investigation into Clinton’s use of a private email server. This reignited the frenzied right-wing smear campaign and, she believes, turned off enough vacillating voters to throw the election to Trump.

Burstein didn’t want to lean too heavily on the gender angle because there are elements at play in Clinton’s turbulent trajectory that “have nothing to do with that,” she said. “They have to do with politics. With her own personality. But there are also things that are very specific to being a female when you’re trying to do something no one else has done…. You really see that play out in her story over and over again.” The documentary shows how the battery of conflicting public expectations and right-wing vilification over several decades caused Clinton to build up defenses, which made her seem ever-more guarded and humorless. That armoring process started as early as law school, where she learned to put her head down and work hard “despite whatever obstacles were put up. And when you fast-forward into an age where everybody wants to see what your emotions are and how you respond and all that... It’s really a different environment in which we find ourselves now.”

Clinton first sat down with Burstein for interviews just a few days after the 2018 midterm results came through with their record number of women elected to Congress. The former first lady and Secretary of State regards the anger-fueled impetus that drove so many women to run for political office as the silver lining to her 2016 defeat. “She doesn’t feel that it’s a tragedy, so why should I depict it that way?” said Burstein. “She’s not bemoaning her existence every day. She’s like: Okay, what’s next?”

Sitting in front of me in a nubby tweed blazer, Clinton said she tries to be realistic about the progress women have made during her lifetime. “A lot of legal barriers have disappeared, and that’s a big step. So now we deal with all of these pent-up stereotypes and judgments about what women should and shouldn’t do or should and shouldn’t be. And we have all these forces—political and ideological and religious and financial—arrayed against further progress. And we have a president who is a willing tool. He doesn’t believe any of this stuff. He has absolutely no core beliefs whatsoever.”

Clinton won’t endorse anyone in the primary, she told me: “I just want whoever can beat him to get the nomination. Beat him in the Electoral College. That’s all I care about. I’m not going through this again!” she said, dissolving into laughter once more.

I asked Clinton if she ever thought about what she’d be doing in a parallel world where she hadn’t moved to Arkansas and married Bill. She evaded the question, telling me she moved there because she wanted to decide whether to marry and just fell in love with her life there. But then I mentioned to her William Gibson’s new novel, Agency, which takes place in a world where Hillary is president.

“Oh, I’d love to read it!” she gasped, asking for more details. In our own reality, “I’m not the president and I got more votes. It’s so crazy! So I’m interested in somebody writing something about a different ending.” She smiled and wailed, “I want to live in that world!”

(Link)

[mintjamsblog]

Gold (by MintJam)

Peaky Blinders fic: Tommy x Alfie

Read on A03

This is a “missing chapter” from earlier in my AU. The “first time” Tommy spends the night with Alfie. NSFW. If you’re new to my AU you may want to read Sideways first, but you don’t have to.

Summary:

“Fuck off,” Tommy snarls with venom in his voice.

“S’my fuckin’ house, mate, I’m not going anywhere. You wanna fuck off then you fuck off. Put your precious little suit back on and trot straight out that door.” Alfie nods towards the bedroom doorway. "Cause what is it, hmm? You scared of getting fucked or scared of liking it?"

Gold

The gymnasium was Alfie’s idea, and it was a good one, if he does say so himself. It’s neutral ground, metaphorically speaking (physically it’s on the edge of Camden town, but that was always going to be unavoidable given they’re here to watch one of Alfie’s fighters). The man currently sparring in the ring right in front of them is putting on a good show and Tommy does seem more relaxed than usual ... if by relaxed you mean shoulders just slightly less square and hands in the pockets of his long black coat. It's a start. The point of being here, because Alfie does always have a point, is that it’s unrelated to any of their current business dealings, which makes it a neutral topic of conversation, and as close to leisure as men like them ever get. Besides, Alfie thinks that Tommy would genuinely enjoy running a fighter so it's a pleasant diversion. (True, he can think of even more pleasant diversions, but he’s working up to that.)

It’s the first time Tommy’s been to London in several weeks and Alfie can’t deny that a certain element of anticipation has been, well, bothering him. Not vexing him, not weighing him down, just there, at the back of his mind. The few meetings they’ve had since that day at Arrow House have been awkward … laden with tension and, more often than not, unnecessary bystanders. Tommy had brought Arthur along to the first meeting for fuck’s sake; like he needed a bloody bodyguard! It would've made Alfie laugh if he hadn't spent every second of the meeting thinking about the noises Tommy makes when you tell him he's not allowed to come yet. After the second meeting Alfie’d managed to get him up against a wall, albeit briefly, but the way Tommy had desperately returned the kiss (at least until John had barged in) gave Alfie reason enough to anticipate there would be a third time. Which there had been. And a fourth. So yeah, he thinks it's safe to assume a certain element of interest on both sides now.

It’s not like Alfie’s some smitten schoolgirl. Far from it, he’s spent the last twenty years of his life taking his fucks where he can get them and rarely in the same place twice. It's unavoidable when you're a man of his particular tastes, but quite frankly he's never been interested in anything more, too busy and selfish to care. But Thomas Shelby is different, there's no denying that, in another league entirely. Alfie can't help it if he just fucking wants him. For starters, it should be illegal to look that bloody good all the time. But it's more than that, so much more.  He's one of very few men that Alfie would consider his equal. In fact, if pressed, he couldn't name a single other one, and that is something, right?  Tommy is wiley and ruthless and recklessly ambitious, and yet it's all undercut by this well-hidden streak of vulnerability – like a seam of gold in a wall of rock just waiting to be mined. And it's that seam, that precious vein that Alfie covets; he wants to take a pickaxe to that hard exterior and lay Tommy Shelby open.

He’s staring at the man now, standing out like a sore thumb in the seedy gym, looking immaculate and graceful and right on the fucking edge. It's not surprising given the shit he's involved in, Russians and government agencies crawling all over him, but the fact that Alfie can see it, well that's fucking dangerous. That is what gets people killed. And he very nearly was killed, wasn't he? That priest came far too fucking close and Tommy might be pretending he's fine, but it quite clearly isn't true. Alfie could see it that day at Arrow House and he can see it now - a weariness, a fragility barely hidden by Tommy's hard stares and fixed expressions. The rest of the world might not care to notice, but Alfie's more perceptive than most.

“How many hours have you slept in the last week?” he asks. It’s a strange thing to bring up in the middle of a discussion about match-fixing, probably, but Tommy is familiar enough with Alfie’s non sequiturs not to be thrown off balance. It's a sign of how well they know each other, even if it is quite annoying actually.

“More than any man in my line of work deserves to,” Tommy replies smoothly.

“Three, four hours a night?” Alfie continues, genuinely intrigued.

Tommy snorts gently and a strange smile twitches at the corner of his mouth as he reaches into his pocket for cigarettes, a small tell that shows he's playing for time. Fuck, less then that Alfie surmises. “It’s the price we pay for the lives we lead, eh?” Tommy says, once his cigarette is lit and he’s blowing smoke into the air above him.

“May very well be,” Alfie says, because he’s no stranger to the nightmares, but he’d bet good money that he manages better than Tommy.  “You wanna sleep tonight?” he asks, voice low and deliberate, because fuck it, there's no point beating around the bush. He knows Tommy has business in town tomorrow, and Tommy knows he knows. He is achingly aware that this is a very careful dance, that he may be the one leading with his feet but it’s up to Tommy whether he follows. He can see the way Tommy is looking at him intently, trying to read the true meaning behind his words, like it wasn't bloody obvious enough. His back has straightened and he hasn't answered, but then again, he hasn’t looked away either.

“I bet you ten pounds I can make you sleep better than you have in months, mate,” Alfie pushes.

“Is that right?” Tommy asks, staring straight ahead as if focused entirely on the fight. When the bell rings to signal the end of the round he exhales a slow cloud of smoke. "You're lucky I'm a gambling man," he says, before dropping his cigarette on the floor and stubbing it out slowly with the ball of his foot.  Alfie looks down at the gleaming black boot; he hasn't even smoked half of it he notes, before following Tommy towards the exit. He can't quite believe it was that easy.

____

An hour later they are standing in Alfie’s bedroom, fully dressed, kissing heatedly, when Tommy breaks away. “You have indoor plumbing?" he asks.

"It's Camden, not bloody Cairo. Of course I've got indoor fuckin' plumbing.”

"Good. I need a shower.”

“Sure, right,” Alfie says, slightly thrown but trying not to show it. Tommy's already stripping off his tie and his jacket. “Go ahead, first door on the left. Towels on the shelf.” Indoor plumbing...patronising git. It might not be a mansion, but it's a nice enough townhouse whatever Lord fucking Shelby might think. It’s got everything Alfie wants and that’s all that matters, innit, because no one other than himself and his maid ever sets foot in the place. Sure he might attend the odd dinner or religious celebration, because he's well known in the Jewish community and he has a certain profile to maintain, but he never hosts. Never lets people in. Until today that is. So this is strange, yeah, uncomfortable if he really analyses it. Makes him wonder why he didn't just drive to a hotel actually … but then he does a lot of questionable things where Tommy’ Shelby’s involved.

He can hear the water running on the other side of the wall as he bends down to take off his shoes and socks. He really shouldn't be surprised that Tommy would want to be as immaculate when naked as he is when dressed, it's just a shame that it's interrupted the flow of things just when they where warming up so nicely. Alfie strips down to his trousers and sits atop the bedclothes to wait, picking up the book on his bedside table to keep his mind occupied. He must actually succeed in concentrating on it briefly, because when the door handle turns a few minutes later he is momentarily startled. Then he’s momentarily stunned, because the sight of Tommy walking towards him, water dripping from his hair, white towel tucked around his slim waist … well it’s too perfect to be real. He looks like some sort of classical painting … or a marble sculpture ... all sharp angles and smooth planes. The things he wants to do to Tommy will send him straight to fucking hell without a doubt – which is a price he is absolutely willing to pay – ten times over if needs be.

Tommy strolls cautiously towards the side of the bed, eyes clearly scanning Alfie's torso. It's unnerving having someone look at him like this, having someone dare look at him at all. But that’s just one of the things that makes Tommy special isn’t it? The way he’s too brave for his own fuckin’ good; never afraid to look, to stare, to glare right into your black soul.  Alfie grabs him, has to, yanks him by the wrist and straight onto the bed in a move so fast and forceful that Tommy gasps. Then Alfie rolls him straight onto his back and lies on top, forearms boxing his head in on either side.  

"Fuuuuck," he breathes, when he’s settled, eyes roaming shamelessly over Tommy’s face, his neck, his chest. Tommy’ features have shifted from shocked to mildly amused, no doubt by the flagrant desire in Alfie's eyes. Smug bastard, Alfie thinks, although he can hardly blame the man. When you look like Tommy Shelby you're bound to become accustomed to a certain level of appreciation, to a degree of attention. Well, he's got Alfie's attention alright, and he's gonna have it all fucking night.

The moment weighs heavily on Alfie, because having Tommy here in his house, in his room, in his bed … is signifcant. No getting away from it. But whether Tommy thinks it’s significant … well, that is an entirely different matter. The impassive mask he wears gives Alfie precious little clue as to whether he sees this a big deal or a quick fuck or a frivolous mistake. What he does see, because his well-honed powers of observation have not deserted him entirely, is impatience. Tommy is impatient to get on with …. whatever it is he thinks they have come here to get on with. And thatwon’t do. Alfie is not going to have this moment wrecked by haste. And so he traces his fingers lightly through Tommy’s dark, wet hair, hovering hesitantly over his lips. “Slowly…” he warns, looking him straight in the eyes. “Fucking slowly.” Then he presses his lips over Tommy’s, opening his mouth until their tongues meet tentatively, teasing and licking with unusual and gratifying softness. He can’t help but groan at the heat and the intimacy, a low rumble in his chest that echos in the quiet of his room and is matched with a sigh from Tommy. No one is watching, no one is waiting and the rest of the night is theirs.

This level of intimacy is something Alfie hasn’t felt often in his life, the closeness of skin against skin, the warmth, the feel of Tommy's hands resting lightly on his bare shoulders. It’s just not allowed to men of his persuasion – more used to taking pleasure in hurried snatches, in alleys or theatres or certain clubs – almost always with their clothes on. Alfie drinks it in, wants to lick and suck every inch of pale, freckled flesh, to feel those muscles flex and roll beneath the skin, to take his time and draw more sounds from Tommy's swollen lips. To make him fucking dissolve.

It's dangerous how much he’s letting his guard down, how much he wants this. His body starts rocking on pure instinct, slowly but definitely, in a casual imitation of fucking. Maybe it’s that movement that does it, or the promise behind it, but he feels Tommy tense beneath him, put his chin to his chest and break the kiss to look down at the hips grinding against him.  

“What?” Alfie says, lifting his head, as if it weren't fucking obvious that Tommy is overthinking this. Not entirely comfortable with the idea of it, he guesses, although his body is responding just fine. Alfie presses his forehead hard against Tommy's, forcing his head back onto the pillow. "It's all fine," he whispers, staring at him.

“Thought I was here to sleep,” Tommy says, voice like factory smoke.

“Oh don’t worry, you will,” Alfie says, grinding his hips harder. “I’ll make sure of that.” He feels Tommy push against him, hands braced against his chest as if to force him up or off. It's futile, Alfie is stronger, heavier and has all the leverage in his current position, but if Tommy wants to feel like he's resisting then fine, he can go with that. He lets his full weight fall onto the smaller man laid out beneath him and leans down to kiss his neck, biting into his shoulder in a greedy gesture that’s none-too-gentle. Tommy grunts at the weight and the sharp pain and Alfie just licks over the teeth marks and chuckles; it's not a malicious laugh, he’s just delighted to be here, but it infuriates Tommy nonetheless. The next thing Alfie knows there's a knee jabbed between his legs. It doesn't quite hit its target full force, restricted by the towel still wrapped around Tommy’s hips, but fucking hell, that is a step too far, innit? His hand flies up on pure impulse to grip the slender throat, no thought as to the context. "That's how you want to play it, hmm?" he says, glaring furiously as Tommy's face flushes in his grasp. Alfie's angry, genuinely angry, because a bit of resistance is charming enough but a knee in the crown jewels is not. He wedges his own knee between Tommy's thighs, where it most definitely will not miss its target, and presses up hard enough to be threatening.

"Here's how this is gonna work," he starts, voice low and slow. "You are going to listen to me, and you are going to get what you came here for. Hmm. You can even pretend you don't want it if that satisfies some deep-seated prejudices ... some latent Catholic guilt. But you knee me in the fucking balls again and I will not be responsible for my actions. Got it?" Tommy’s eyes are wide and defiant but his body is achingly still; because even he is not stupid enough to argue when he’s trapped between a hand on his throat and a knee on his groin. They glare at each other for several long seconds, each trying to read the other one's mind, but Alfie doesn't miss the way Tommy's pupils widen. Yeah, he wants this.

“You need to relinquish some of that control. Let me take care of you. I'll make you sleep like a baby Thomas,” he says, with absolute certainty, slowly releasing the pressure from his grip, feeling Tommy's chest rise as he inhales deeply but remains otherwise rigidly still. The air in the room feels static, as though even the walls are listening. “But first," he snarls, "first I am gonna pick you apart, mate. From the inside out. Piece by fucking piece…”

He leans down to kiss Tommy’s collarbone, nipping along the thin skin. “And you are gonna hate me for it,” he growls darkly, directly into Tommy’s ear, “and you are gonna beg me for more.”

He licks a line up Tommy's neck, feeling his adam's apple move as he swallows slowly. "I don't beg," he says.

“That's what you think, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy snarls, and the venom in his voice is momentarily startling. Alfie pauses and pulls back.

“S’my fuckin’ house, mate, I’m not going anywhere. You wanna fuck off then you fuck off. Put your precious little suit back on and trot straight out that door.” Alfie nods towards the hallway. "What is it eh? You scared of getting fucked? Or scared of liking it?"

Tommy's eyes blaze, he tries to sit up, to shunt against the weight above him, but Alfie just grabs both of his wrists and forces them down above his head. He clamps his knees either side of Tommy’s hips and chuckles at the ease with which he has him pinned.“Or maybe both, hmm?” he says, glaring through dark eyes. “I don't think you really want to go anywhere, do you Tommy? I think you wanna switch that clever head off and let me show you things. Let me wreck you."

He doesn’t even wait for a reaction, just reaches for the tie that's strewn on the other side of the bed and starts fastening it to the headboard – because if Tommy needs help to surrender to this then Alfie is more than happy to oblige. “Hands up,” he says gruffly, preparing for a fight. To his surprise Tommy obeys with nothing more than a slow blink and a deep sigh, as if he’s just made some slightly irksome concession for the sake of a business deal, not offered himself prostrate to a gangster with a reputation for insanity. Alfie’s surprised he doesn’t throw in an eye-roll to boot.  And if he can't quite believe what he is being gifted, then he keeps that thought to himself. “I am gonna make you feel so good, Tommy,” he says, meaning every damn word, as he trails kisses down his chest. "You won’t regret this.”

“I already am," Tommy replies, “you arrogant fuck.”

"Hmmm. Arrogance is in fact one if my better qualities," Alfie mumbles distractedly, because he’s now busy letting his mouth explore the skin that’s stretched out beneath him: the tattoos, the freckles, the scattered scars. He pinches gently at the hardening nipples and smiles when Tommy gasps. He must have done something good or right in his life to deserve the way those blue, blue eyes are looking at him now, wide and wary and filled with need.

He lets his tongue trail down Tommy's abdomen, opening the white towel still tucked around his middle and groans aloud at the sight that greets him – hard and heavy and right fucking there – begging to be touched. He wraps both hands around that slender waist, letting them slide down to rest on his pelvis, stroking the delicate bones with his thumbs before lifting his hips from the bed and wrapping his mouth around that glorious cock. He laps and sucks like a starving man until Tommy moans obscenely.

"Oh fucking hell, the things I'm gonna do to you…" Alfie breathes as he lets Tommy’s body fall back onto the mattress.

"Show me," Tommy says huskily, panting through wetted lips.

“Bend your knees,” is all Alfie says, and Tommy responds immediately.

“If I knew your obedience was that easy to buy I’d have sucked your cock long ago,” Alfie hums, placing one hand on the back of Tommy’s thigh and pushing his leg up and out of the way.

"If I'd known it'd feel like that, I might have let you."

Alfie uses the newfound space to cup Tommy’s balls, stroking them gently before wetting one thumb with spit and rubbing it along the smooth skin of his perineum. He lets it slide up and down for or moment or two before pressing firmly enough to make Tommy inhale sharply and thrust his hips. Yeah, ok, he likes that.  So Alfie keeps doing it, teasing and rubbing until Tommy’s breaths are deep and shaky, again on the cusp of a moan. Things work out absolutely fine for the next few minutes, Alfie makes himself comfortable, seated between Tommy’s thighs, uses his tongue and his fingers to draw small sounds from the man in his mouth who’s definitely starting to relax. But then he presses his thumb a bit lower – rubs over that tight little hole – and everything fucking stops. Tommy's hips stop, his moans stop, his fucking breathing stops. And so Alfie stops, let's the cock drop out of his mouth and just looks up at Tommy who has closed his eyes and tightened up all over.

"S'all good," he says tenderly, "just trust me."

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” Tommy gasps, “of course I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Bit late to realise that now, mate. Is that why you've clammed up tighter than a miser's moneybox?”

"S'fine... I'm fine,” Tommy says, voice settling, composure returning.

"That ain't exactly the message I’m getting…"

"M'fine, " Tommy repeats with more gravity. "S'just ..."

Alfie takes a deep breath and decides there’s no point in leaving this elephant in the room. “You've never slept with a man. I know. I’m not a total fuckin’ idiot.”

Tommy looks up at him deadpan, pouting with his bottom lip. “Wasn’t gonna say that.”

“No?” Alfie says, wondering if somehow he’s got this incredibly wrong.

“Was gonna say I’ve never slept with an insane, bearded Jew.”

The tension cracks for a moment as they both snigger nervously, a genuine smile crossing Tommy’s face, but when Alfie presses teasingly at the tight hole he tenses once again. It’s less than before, but even so...

“Seriously, are you tellin' me no woman's ever done this …" Alfie says, pressing gently, before Tommy cuts him off.

“…Jesus fucking Christ, Alfie. Do we have to talk about it?"

“No, no, but I do have to tell you that you have been visiting the wrong whores, mate," Alfie says, unable to keep another smile from his lips. So he gets to be the first to cross this particular threshold? Tonight just keeps getting better. He reaches into his bedside drawer for oil, conscious that his every move is being watched as he sits back to slick his fingers. “Lucky for you that I am the right type of whore,” he says as he holds one finger poised over Tommy’s entrance, circling gently with just the tip, not pushing, not probing, just savouring the weight of anticipation.  

"Eyes on me," he says calmly, when the air has settled again. But Tommy is looking steadfastly up at the headboard, his breaths so shallow they're silent. Yeah, there it is alright, that vulnerability, that seam of glorious gold. It makes Alfie want to turn him inside out, to decimate the hard layers and expose that valuable ore.  He pulls one pale leg up and over his own – pushing the other down into the mattress, then pauses to take in this picture of surrender: Tommy’s arms tied together above his head, thighs splayed out wide. If Alfie dies tomorrow he'll be a happy man just to have seen this he thinks. When Tommy looks back at him through those long, dark lashes his eyes say it all; he’s exposed, defenceless and nervous as hell; like a fox in a trap just waiting to be found.

"Look at me. Relax,” Alfie says placing his left hand flat across Tommy’s stomach, holding him still, grounding him with his warm, firm touch. Tommy boldy holds his gaze, head tilted up as Alfie finally pushes one finger into him in a slow, smooth movement. Tommy flinches and clenches and slowly exhales, but can’t stop his eyes rolling back in his head as his barriers are forcefully breached. Alfie is utterly mesmerised, his lust-fucked brain can hardly process that Tommy has allowed him this. When he starts to move he does so gently, reverently…just slides his finger out and back in again…lets Tommy ease into the feeling. Fuck, Alfie thinks, he hardly recognises himself. “Shhh, s’all good. Just relax,” he whispers, unable to take his eyes off that one finger fucking into Tommy, so hot and slick and amazingly tight. The mere idea of what it'll feel like to actually fuck him makes him swallow and groan out loud.

Tommy just closes his eyes and accepts the gentle movements, muscles fluttering endearingly as he tries to follow that one simple instruction. To relax. After a few minutes Alfie dares to push further, to explore and curl and tentatively seek out that sensitive bundle of nerves. When he finds it he rubs at it steadily until he's rewarded with a throaty groan.

"Good?" he asks, unnecessarily, because the way Tommy’s starting to move says it all.

“Yes," Tommy says, “it’s good…" but his words are swallowed in a loud groan as Alfie presses down on his stomach and pushes in with a second finger.

“Jesus…fuck…” Tommy moans, and the note of panic in his voice makes Alfie groan sinfully. Soon he's curling both fingers, searching again for the specific spot that he knows will unravel Tommy from the inside. He strokes slowly, firmly, using the pads of his fingers in an even, regular motion. It's tighter and harder to manoeuvre than one finger, but he wants it to feel more intense. Tommy is looking at the ceiling, trying to keep the frown from his face.

"Just relax, it'll ease, it'll be worth it,” Alfie says, trying to soothe him or reassure him. “Listen to me, switch off that brain.”  

Tommy hums quietly in response, his face already softening as he adjusts to the feelings, the fullness, the motion inside. Alfie’s not so much fucking into him now, focused more on those little strokes and pretty soon Tommy’s hips roll gently, pushing back against the fingers. Alfie knows when he’s found just the right rhythm because his mouth drops open wide.

“Oh,” he gasps, “oh… oh fuck…oh fuck.” And that’s it, they settle into a pattern, punctuated by Tommy’s increasingly guttural sounds.

There’s no doubt his body is responding to the unfamiliar pleasure, the liquid trickling down the side of his cock is impossible to miss. And oh how slowly Alfie is going to coax it out of him, until he's a delicious, desperate mess.  He presses firmly onto the now engorged gland, eliciting a loud, shaky, “ahhh,” before Tommy starts panting heavily and Alfie decides to relent. He does it again, harder this time, until Tommy's knees lift up and he lets out a pained cry. He looks at Alfie wide-eyed, horrified and yet, somehow, strangely trusting. It sends a wave of blood straight to Alfie's groin.

“Touch me,” Tommy whispers after several minutes of the same.

“Your cock?” Alfie asks

“Yes," he says urgently, “God, yes…” words dissolving into a moan.

“I don’t think I need to, mate, because this,” Alfie says, stroking his prostate firmly, “this is working just fine. It must be, look how hard you are. Looks almost painful. Look how much you’re leaking.” Tommy lets out a long, strangled groan and looks longingly towards his engorged cock. He pulls at the ties round his wrists and whines in frustration.

”Yeah, and those pretty noises you're making ... there's gonna be a lot more of those before we're done."  Alfie can see the intensity building, how he’s slowly succumbing, giving in to the ungraspable pleasure. But he wants more…he wants Tommy squirming with it…desperate…unable to control his cries.

Tommy grits his teeth and hisses, thrusting his cock into the air in a futile search for the friction that Alfie is refusing to provide.

"You may as well save your energy. There’s nothing to rub against."

“Alfie, just fucking…”

“Just, what?” Alfie interrupts

“Just touch me,” he says as his head flops back down heavily onto the bed.

“The only place I'm touching you darling, is right here," Alfie says, emphasising the last two words with two hard, deliberate strokes inside. Tommy bucks in response and lets out a shaky breath.

“My cock…just touch my cock,” he pleads.

“But it’s gonna be so much better like this, having it stroked out of you, slowly. So much more shameful," Alfie continues, unsure whether it's the filthy words or the fingers in his arse that are getting to Tommy most. He doesn't know and doesn't care. The result is the same: Tommy's composure is starting to crumble, his tongue is loosening, his movements are increasingly erratic. He looks glorious. Alfie strokes his free hand down one milk-white hip and coos softly to tell him just that. Tommy shudders hard under the touch, whimpering and moaning with increasing abandon.

Alfie knows this is sweet agony; a feeling like nothing else, all consuming and yet almost impossible to capture or pin down. He has no impulse to be cruel about it, possessive maybe, but not cruel. He can’t deny a certain desire to ruin Tommy for anyone else… to lead him down this slow, agonising route to a level of pleasure he’s never known. To fucking own him.  

A continuous line of glassy fluid is now connecting Tommy’s cock to his stomach and running off his hip onto the towel. Alfie's fingers never stop. He watches Tommy’s fists clenching and releasing, his hips moving erratically and places a hand on his pelvis to hold him, "still," he says softly, "stay still. Just feel it." Tommy stops thrusting his hips, lets out another high-pitched moan. "That's it, that's better," Alfie says, utterly enthralled. Tommy's eyes have glazed over, like he's going someplace else.

“You're gonna come for me. Like this, Tommy,” he says, “I'm gonna press it out of you drip by beautiful drip."

“No,” Tommy pants.

“You want me to stop?

“Yes! No... Jesus…fucking…Christ…” he whines, his voice so high it's unrecognisable.

And fuck, Alfie is struggling to maintain his own composure because Tommy is increasingly desperate - flushed and sweating, hips writhing, cock leaking … he looks like a fucking wet dream. Alfie wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at Tommy in a suit again or whether he’ll always just picture him like this – a filthy, wanton mess.

It doesn’t even matter that he's not getting anything out of this himself. Because he knows he could push into that hot, tight arse right now and damn well take his pleasure – it’s not like that thought hasn’t crossed his mind. It’s just that he wouldn't stop what he's doing now if you paid him ten thousand pounds, not when he has Tommy laid open beneath him, stripped back, abandoned, revealed.

“Please,” Tommy pants, drawing Alfie out of his thoughts, "fucking please…”

Alfie just smiles, unable to resist gloating. “And you said you wouldn’t beg…”

"I can't fucking come like this..."

Another few minutes of relentless attention and Tommy is trembling all over; his legs are quivering, his voice is shaking, he seems barely in control. Alfie's fingers ache and his back is sore and when the grandfather clock chimes in the hallway he realises how long they’ve been here. But he's not going to stop, not going to slow down until Tommy has fallen apart. He is nothing if not relentless, not when Tommy's the prize.

He is paying wrapt attention, as if studying an exotic specimen, trying to catalogue every sound and expression and reaction that Tommy allows to escape. He is arching and mewling and gasping ... mouth hanging open, body leaking instinctively, no trace of the usual veneer.

Tommy's sounds become even less controlled, a series of high-pitched, continuous cries. His voice, when he dares to use it, is barely a whimper, gasping the same few words, "I can't, Alfie ... I can't."

"Shhhh," Alfie murmurs sympathetically, "and yes. You can."

“Please, fuck! You bastard,” he whines when Alfie speeds things up. His face is bright red, arms straining, eyelids fluttering.

“S’not my fault you’re so fucking responsive, now, is it mate?”

“I can’t, Alfie, I fucking can’t…” he says, “fucking, fuck…please...”

"Such a desperate little thing," Alfie says, voice low and undeniably smug. Tommy looks shocked and strained and furious, like he'd do anything to get his release. He's forgotten himself entirely as the liquid still seeps from his cock. Who’d have thought it wouldn’t take a pickaxe to break him apart, just two carefully aimed fingers.

"Please, I can't," Tommy repeats, and he sounds like he could cry. Fucking hell...

"Please," he gasps, as Alfie continues to work his fingers, "please just fucking touch me. Or untie me. Or touch me."

"Your poor little cock needs to learn that it does not need to be in a mouth or a hand or a cunt," Alfie chides as he curls and strokes mercilessly.

“You’re the cunt,” Tommy snarls, which only makes the fingers on his prostate work faster and harder and firmer, until he is gasping, shouting, “don’t, it hurts, fucking don’t...” so of course Alfie most assuredly does, until Tommy is whining shamelessly, hips rolling against nothing, a high pitched wail in his throat and fucking hell…he is coming ... loudly, unashamedly, curling onto his side as if he's trying to escape it. One leg kicks weakly at Alfie whilst the same relentless stream of pearlescent liquid trickles out of him. There's no ejaculation, no sudden rush and his cock stays achingly hard. Alfie can feel Tommy's muscles spasming around his fingers in long waves that make him thrash and groan. It seems to go on and fucking on until he almost feels sorry for him.

"Stop, just fucking stop for Christ's sake..." Tommy gasps, he's curled into the foetal position, or as close to it as he can get with his hands above his head. The thing is, Alfie has moved with him, is kneeling above him, fingers still very much in position and working that same spot. Because when he said he wanted to pick Tommy apart he fucking meant it. He smooths Tommy's hair, shushes him gently, waits for the panting to subside – although his fingers never relent. "Again, Tommy," he whispers, voice calm but stern, and within twenty seconds Tommy jolts and cries out as he writhes through a second, drawn-out orgasm, cursing beneath his breath. He looks breathtaking, enduring every drop of exquisite suffering that Alfie doles out.

"Stop...stop," Tommy says when he realises Alfie is still going, still working at him, giving him no time to recover, just pressing and circling relentlessly until he is once again a trembling wreck, pleading with him incessantly, "enough...please...you can't...I can't..." barely breathing between the words. Alfie growls wickedly as he strokes a third sluggish orgasm from Tommy’s exhausted body, watching him shudder and spasm and curl up as the room is filled with a continuous, high-pitched whine. The noise only stops when finally, Alfie pulls his aching hand away. Tommy almost cries with relief. He lies there wide-eyed and shaking, totally overwraught, gasping and twitching as he tries to catch his breath. Alfie kicks off his trousers and crawls over to place a kiss to his head. "My hands..." Tommy whispers so quietly Alfie barely hears him.

"Yeah, yeah, hands," Alfie says, straddling his hips as he leans up to the headboard to untie him. Tommy's head lolls languidly to the side. He looks shattered, mottled and blotchy and drenched in sweat. His gaze is strangely vacant and he won't look Alfie in the eye. Fuck. He's just had three intense orgasms but he looks fucking upset, chest heaving, breaths stuttering in a way that sounds dangerously close to tears. Apprehension pools in Alfie's stomach, fear that he's fucked this up, gone too far. He rubs the wrists he’s just untied and leans down to kiss the dark, damp hair. Tommy jerks away from his lips.

"Look at me," Alfie says, quietly. Tommy rolls his head round slowly to stare up with worryingly blank eyes. It's as though he's withdrawn, disengaged himself entirely. The way he's sprawled out on his back he looks lifeless, spent.

"Tommy, you with me? S'alright," he mutters, as if saying it out loud will make it true. Alfie's heart sinks, realisation slowly dawning that it might be far easier to pick Tommy apart than it is to put him back together. That he might not appreciate having been laid so bare. "You were fucking perfectTommy," he says, stroking at his hair, moving it out of his face. He's aware that Tommy's cock is still a hard line, unbelievably, jabbing Alfie's conscience as much as his hip. He leans down to grasp it, hand slipping in the abundance of precum, as he strokes it gently once, twice. Tommy doesn't even react to the touch, just whispers, "enough."

"You want me to stop?" Alfie asks.

"What do you fucking think?" he spits. Shit. He's pissed. Upset and pissed. Alfie flounders for a moment, unsure how to fix this, how to redress the balance, because yes, he wanted to push Tommy, but not to push him away. The risk of him fucking off permanently is suddenly very real and absolutely not bloody happening. He cannot fathom losing this … whatever it is … cannot let this beautiful, brave, vulnerable man go. He’ll do anything to make this right, anything.

His response is completely instinctual ... his body doesn't even engage with his head ... before he can think himself out of it he lifts his hips, hovers over Tommy and pushes back firmly onto his hot, wet hardness. He screw his eyes shut, fucking has to, he hasn't done this in years and it’s, well, it's a lot...fuckin' hurts if the truth be told.  He grunts and grits his teeth, holding very, very still until he can bring himself to sink down lower, to take in the full length. He hears Tommy exhale deeply beneath him, but he can't look, can't move, can't think – oblivious to anything other than the burning fullness in his arse and how much he needs to relax, breathe through it, suck it up. Fuck.  If this is what he does around Tommy, he's doomed isn't he?  Totally fucking doomed. His eyes are still closed when he feels hands move to his hips, gripping him gently, just resting there, warm and soft, not even willing him to move. A gravelly voice rasps, "Alfie."

"Yeah, alright move, fuckin move," he snarls after a minute or so, unable to believe what he’s doing. Tommy holds him down as he rocks up gently and finally Alfie opens his eyes to look. Thank fuck. Tommy looks present. "Yeah, you're back now, aintcha?" Alfie says without malice, because it's impossible to feel anything other than supremely fucking blessed right now.  Tommy looks bloody obscene - dark-eyed and hungry and, frankly, amazed.

"Thought I didn't need my cock in anything, eh?" he rasps.

"Yeah, well change of plan. Don't get used to it," Alfie says. "This ain't happening again, alright? Not like this. Next time it is very definitely gonna be my cock in your arse, mate. Just so we’re clear." God, he needs to stop thinking about that, he's going to last about 30 seconds at this rate. With that thought he braces his arms against Tommy's chest and starts moving, fucking himself down carefully to start with, but then with more serious intent. He watches every reaction on Tommy's face as he hovers right on the edge of losing it – for the fourth time that night. And fucking hell does Tommy lose it, gripping Alfie's hips hard as he thrusts up selfishly into him, grunting shamelessly with the effort. The look of dark desire on his beautiful face as he abandons himself again is, well, biblical. Alfie feels the hot spurts fill him and grabs his own cock to follow immediately over the edge.

Afterwards, he lies where he falls, slumped heavily over Tommy’s trembling body, breathing into his neck. He can't move himself, can't quite process what the hell just happened, how he's ended up letting Tommy fuck him...to make Tommy feel good. Not that he doesn't feel good himself. Fuck, he feels amazing - loose and sated and strangely fucked open in a way he'll remember for days. Tommy's hands are holding his upper arms, smoothing gently over his skin a handful of times before slowly falling still. It feels warm, quiet. Nice. By the time he eventually rolls off, grabbing the towel to clean himself, Tommy is a boneless sprawl in the bed. Alfie half shoves, half rolls him over to one side, pulling a blanket over his shoulders, but would swear he's already asleep. He lies behind him, wondering how close is too close, daring a hand on his bicep, a kiss to his shoulder before he closes his eyes and lets sleep swallow him too. He's fucked, he thinks as he drifts into darkness. Metaphorically and literally fucked.

[durandtm]

TIMOTHEE CHALOMET, 19, NONBINARY, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CAMPBELL “CAMP” DURAND! according to their records, they’re a SECOND YEAR, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION and DRIVER’S ED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (dark circles under eyes, the scent of eucalyptus, running late, looking disinterested or confused, constantly writing). when it’s the (aquarius)’s birthday on FEBRUARY 18, they always request FRIED PICKLES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kara, 26, she/her, pst ⍀

HIS STORY.

+ Home is on the southwestern side of France where the scenery consisted of salt farms and old windmills. Many of the village's buildings were whitewashed, and some, even the farmhouses, had ornamental towers reminiscent of the 16th century. Their town of Ars-en-Ré was a commune on the Île de Ré in the Charente-Maritime. Whitewashed buildings there would often accent their buildings with grayish blues and whatever flowers they could grow. + Campbell Durand lived with his mother, Camila, and father, Hal, in a quaint guesthouse belonging to a fish and lobster farmer. + Boats went in and out of the harbor all day via a long channel between the marshes, and that was where you could find Hal from dusk to dawn. + A distinct feature of the town was its strange black and white church steeple. It had been a useful mariner's way-finder for centuries. Camila Durand would often go out to the steeple. She enjoyed the quiet walk over, the feel of the water’s breeze against her skin, and proudly overlooked her boys at work. Campbell would wave violently toward her, smile brightening his face, stomach rumbling for dinner, as she silently guided them home. + If Campbell was not in school, he was in and out of the harbor with his father. He would do at least one run in the morning before school and two after. On days with higher run expectancies or days when men would not show up due to poor weather conditions, Campbell would miss school, much to his and his mother’s dismay, to work with his father. + “Camp,” he began to be called. It was easier to shout one syllable than two over the deafening sound of the waters and men working. + The boy’s scent was slightly fishy, mixed with saltwater and sweat. Regardless of whether or not his peers’ families were in the same industries or higher middle class, this was unique to him and often kept him from experiencing close friendships.   + Once a year at most, Camila Durand went into the city. The trip’s purpose was to collect necessities, and despite her desire to take her son, Hal insisted Camp remain in Ars-en-Ré. + When Camila was pregnant with their second child, Camp was finally allowed to accompany his mother to the city to carry things for her. He stopped at a street vendor whose wooden display was covered with beautiful flowers and bottles filled with perfumes and oils. When the smell of eucalyptus grabbed his attention, Camila smiled; eucalyptus grew plentifully in Southern France and was the base note of her everyday perfume, a luxury item she was able to pick out for her wedding. She bought the eucalyptus oil for her son, a secret to be kept from Hal. Camp would use it when he got to school and hoped it wore off by the time he left. + Camp’s hair was a hectic mess of curls. His mother liked to wrap them around her index finger mindlessly, creating a sensitivity and exclusivity around the act. While he had an affinity for it and could often be found with a hand in his hair, he would never let anyone but his mother touch it, remaining true even into young adulthood. + Eventually, Camp’s curls grew long and people would tell his parents that he was such a “pretty girl.”  Camila tucked his long curls behind his ears like she did her own for as long as she could, but eventually, his father’s ego got the best of him. It was like Campbell’s masculinity was meant to be a reflection of his own. If Campbell was not masculine enough, Hal felt it meant he wasn’t masculine enough. + This led to the desire, manipulation, and force-of-hand Hal had in having another son. + Getting pregnant again was a long, hard road for Camila. Her first miscarriage was found out by Campbell climbing into her bed to find a mess of blood. Hal reprimanded Camp for screaming, even though it was the sounding alarm that saved her life at the time. Hal rushed out the door with Camila in his arms, slamming the door shut behind them. Things were never explained to Campbell, leaving him confused. When his mother arrived home safely, he quickly held to the relief and asked no questions. It wasn’t until she began to show, two pregnancies and one miscarriage later, that he found out his parents were still trying. + When it was time for the baby to come, delivery was even more difficult than the act of getting pregnant. The complications took her life. + After his mother had passed, there was nothing tying Campbell and Hal together. He fell into a quiet, depressive state and spent his entire earnings at the harbor on a laptop like the ones all of the kids at school had. + Camp barely tried at school, though he succeeded with flying colors. + When he got home, he would remain tucked away in his room, playing video games, coding, learning and unlearning algorithms, and the like. He often would stay up all night, sleep becoming less and less of a priority as his eyes remained glued to the blue light of his screen. + His father began drinking when he got home. The two sat at the dinner table together. They didn’t talk. If anything was to be said, it was Hal, telling Camp that he would waste his life away on that computer and never make anything of himself. + Camp began hacking. It started out as a result of having beaten all of his video games and having no money to buy more. It became his own sort of game. It started small, the computers of classmates, then teachers, then strangers, then businesses, then local government, then banks, and eventually, secret intelligence branches. + The boy had no ambitions, no goals, no ulterior motive, no end game. He was told that there would be very serious consequences for his actions, but the agency was in America, a country in which he was not legally adult, and he felt untouchable. His 18th birthday wasn’t far so they did with him what they would have done with any juvenile delinquent in his position and offered him a “bright future” that started with Gallagher Academy. The Fall semester would begin in September of 2019, and along with it, would begin Camp’s new life. + He packed his bags, gave his father a reluctant hug, ignoring his proud ramblings of how he would make something of himself after all and that his mother would be so proud, and was on his way. He would wake up and go to sleep missing the quiet safety of the home his mother had once occupied. He would miss the certainty of his father’s mundane routines and joining him for quiet dinners of cabbage and meat stew when he got home.

HIS PERSONALITY.

(insightful, patient, weird, rebelling, lone wolf, great listener, always running late, 1000 moods, needs space)

+ Kaiju films are they’re favorite (Kaiju is a Japenese genre of films featuring giant monsters that are usually attacking major cities) + Also loves Ghostbusters + Always has a movie they want you to watch + Barely sleeps, leaving dark circles permanently under their eyes + Computer is so old it glitches. + Dreams of a car with a neon under-glow, though they don’t know where they’d drive it + Included a major of driver’s ed because they have never driven a car, nor has their family ever owned one, and driving fast sounds cool + Ends up using it as a coping mechanism. some people punch things when they’re mad, others cry, he drives. fast. dangerously. recklessly. but it’s okay because technically they’re studying + Drinks absinthe as a way of remaining close to their father, who they think they’re destined to be regardless of what fancy school invited them to the states and thinks they’re “talented” and “genius” + Listens to Mariana’s Trench in the background of whatever they’re doing + Has tattoo ideas, but no tattoos: UFO, bermuda triangle, third eye, a mask, illuminati symbol + Talks to you for hours about conspiracy theories + Writes poetry + Likes feeling the breeze with their eyes closed (it reminds them of their mother doing the same at the church steeple, looking over them at the harbor) + Keeps a notebook separate from their poetry, meant for deep thoughts, connecting thoughts and ideas, and inspiration + Photoshopped your head on a meme and sent it to you at 3am + Gets heartbroken 30 times a week by falling for people they look at + Has trust issues + Often unmotivated and disinterested + Feels like they have to adapt to every person they meet to be liked, so they’re often silent at first, figuring out how to mold themselves into the kind of person they need to be around you + Labeled themselves as nonbinary as soon as they were no longer under the strict rule of masculinity presented by their father + Wants to use they/them pronouns, but is too scared to ask. Feels like it’s a “burden” to ask people to go through the trouble of being thoughtful. They don’t want people thinking about them at all + Figuring things out takes them a little longer + Only comes out of their shell around people that are gentle and easy-going + They are tolerant and composed to balance their intense energy when it gets to be too much and needs people to do the same + Can not flirt if their life depended on it + Can be social but born a lone wolf + Only clingy when having the time of  their lives with you, trust you with their heart and soul, or realize they can help you drastically with something and wish to focus on their effort to help you + Need people to sense and feel where the lines between “seeming” and “being” blur and that can figure out who the person is behind the anonymous mask + There’s always some kind of mask to see through + Cognitive AF + Come across emotionless because it is hard to allow themselves to be seen as vulnerable by other people + They hide from their own self + Highly selective and self-aware + They find it hard to ask for help + It’s not all fun and laughs + They adore someone who will inspire confidence in them and the courage to be in the moment and embody their own complexities. Someone who takes them seriously enough but will also keep the conversation light and free-flowing. They will only crush their own walls if you literally allow them to go ahead and ask for the help they deserve + They want people who can allow them to escape and be an actual human anchor for their souls + They do not like to be forced when it comes to sharing what is important to them. They will only do that on their own time or not at all + They know the difference between who is a friend vs. who is a best friend vs. who is a mere acquaintance vs. who is a person they view romantically. These lines do not blur or cross + Once on that level, it’s like having a secret language of communication + Harsh with their words. They are not polite because their words happen outside of emotions + How they communicate with others often has nothing to do with how they’re feeling on the inside + Come across as senseless and illogical and absolutely nuts + Likes to say “I told you so” + Get in their head while you’re talking, so they sometimes have to pretend that they understood

[fyeahfantasticfour]

1960s Sue Storm: A Recuperative, Feminist Reading

I’m not going to pretend that comics in the 1960s weren’t sexist by today’s standards. Of course they were. All popular media from that time was. Second Wave Feminism, at the time Sue first appeared in November of 1961, was still in its infancy and hadn’t yet made its way into popular consciousness (Betty Friedan’s groundbreaking feminist tract, The Feminine Mystique, wouldn’t be published until 1963). Pointing out all of the ways in which Lee/Kirby’s run on the Fantastic Four is sexist is not much of a challenge and not very interesting — what I’m going to do by reading 1960s Sue against the grain is something far more nuanced that I hope will restore some of the agency that fandom interpretations have stripped away from her. I am striving for a recuperative reading of 1960s Sue Storm, one that pushes back against the fairly common and pernicious notion that she is or ever has been “just” a meek and mild housewife, because she never has been that, and I think that highlighting the degree of agency, strength, and courage she had even in the 1960s will help emphasize that. I don’t find the complete and total erasure of the level of agency Sue did, in fact, possess in the 1960s to be particularly nuanced or feminist because it ignores how transgressive she would have seemed at the time. So I am going to point to moments during Lee/Kirby’s run where Sue exhibited agency, strength, and power that were feminist for the period in which they were written, while simultaneously acknowledging that the narrative frequently undercuts and underserves her. I am not at all pretending that any of this was intentional on Jack Kirby or Stan Lee’s part -- I don’t and can’t know that, and frankly, I don’t think it matters in this context.

To begin with, Sue’s invisibility can be read as a critique of sexism, since it grants her both the ability to escape the male gaze and to weaponize her societal invisibility as a woman. I’m sure we’ve all heard of Ellison’s 1952 novel Invisible Man, which comments on both the hyper- and invisibility of black men. The manner in which Sue’s powers function is not unconnected to Ellison’s nameless Invisible Man. Sue’s physical beauty always exposed her to a great deal of unwanted male attention, but that surely escalated after she became famous as a member of the FF, thus becoming hypervisible to a degree she hadn’t been before. We see this in Fantastic Four v1 #10, when a strange man on the street recognizes Sue and interprets her fame as permission to harass her. Her invisibility allows her to dodge him and his gaze while she vehemently condemns his misogynistic behavior. 

Note that it’s specifically framed as Sue resisting, by turning invisible, his reductive view of her as a beautiful object that exists for his pleasure and not much else. “Mmm -- you shouldn’t ever turn invisible, doll!” he tells her. “How’s about a smile for one of your fans??” This is immediately followed by Sue directly defying him by both refusing to smile and turning invisible, thus removing herself from his sexualizing male gaze. Sue’s invisibility is in this way feminist and transgressive -- if women within the highly patriarchal society of the U.S. in the 1960s were given little choice but to exist as sexual objects on display for the titillation of the men around them, their subjectivity and humanity stripped from them, Sue’s invisibility gave her the power to defy that narrow categorization and control when she is seen and by whom. She claimed for herself the power to remove herself from the patriarchal male gaze that sexualized and dehumanized her whenever she wished.

Cut for length.

Her invisibility also allows her to transgressively wield her enemies’ sexist tendency to overlook and underestimate her against them (i.e., treat her as though she is insignificant and thus invisible). She is only successful in defeating male villains when she turns invisible because none of them ever think to wonder what happened to the FF’s female member. They are too busy focusing on the men, who they mistakenly view as more powerful and thus more of a threat than a mere woman. In Fantastic Four #5, for instance, Victor Von Doom demands that Sue surrender herself as a hostage so that he can coerce the male members of the team into doing as he demands. Victor’s plan hinges around Sue being a helpless damsel in distress, but Sue turns the tables on Victor by making the decision to go with Victor part of HER plan to gather information and draw him out into the open. Notice that Reed defers to Sue’s leadership here:

And her plan ultimately works. She defeats Victor and rescues herself and her teammates, all of whom would have been murdered by Victor if not for her. She is able to do so only because Victor does not deem her much of a threat and therefore overlooks her. She might as well have been invisible, as far as he was concerned—and she uses that fact to defeat him.

This overlooking of Sue by male antagonists happens repeatedly -- for instance in Fantastic Four v1 #95, when the Monocle also forgets about Sue completely:

Fantastic Four #5 is not the only time in the 1960s that Reed defers to Sue and her leadership, might I add -- in Fantastic Four v1 #20, Sue proposes one that centers around her taking the Molecule Man’s wand away, and Reed agrees to play bait for her:

They are working as a team here, as equal partners, which is what Lee at least presented Sue as, even if his ability to imagine what equality for a woman looked like was severely limited. Within the comics themselves, Sue herself has always insisted on equality both as a team member and as Reed’s lover and, later on, wife. In 1964′s Fantastic Four Annual #2, Reed, concerned with his girlfriend’s safety, decides that Doom is far too dangerous an enemy for Sue to go up against, but Sue insists on being treated like a full member of the team, as she always has been—and even threatens to break up with Reed if dating him means that she’ll be left behind on dangerous missions. 

And she actually follows through on that threat nearly a decade later in 1973′s Fantastic Four v1 #130, which takes place after they’re married and have a son. The Frightful Four attack and Sue participates in the battle, but when Reed orders her to get their infant son to safety and Sue doesn’t listen, they get into an argument. Reed is livid that Sue (recklessly, he believes) prioritized remaining in the fight over their baby’s life, and Sue is equally furious that Reed is treating her as though Franklin’s mother is all she is rather than as an equal teammate. She then leaves him for the first of two times (the other being during Civil War I). 

When they reunite, Sue is adamant that she be treated as an equal by all of them. Reed struggles at first to stop being so overprotective of Sue, but he does his best to comply because she has been very clear that if he does not, he will lose her permanently. By the time Marvel Two-In-One v1 #67 was published in 1980, he is able to tell Ben that he’s made his peace with the fact that Sue has just as much right to put herself in harm’s way as he does:

It’s worth noting also that in every version of the origin story, Sue’s decision to become a superhero—i.e., a warrior, on active, front-line duty—is never questioned by Reed, Ben, or Johnny (contrast that with Wonder Woman two decades or so earlier, who was initially relegated to being the Justice Society’s secretary). As a matter of fact, while Reed mentions in Fantastic Four v1 #22, the issue where Sue develops the ability to create forcefields, that Sue has been doubting the value of her powers and her usefulness to the team, he emphasizes that, to the contrary, she is “about to become the star member.” So not only has Sue always been a member of the FF, 22 issues after her first appearance she was already being presented as its most powerful member thanks to her forcefields. Needless to say, the fact that Sue was not only a member of the FF but also explicitly its most powerful member was fairly groundbreaking for the 1960s. I struggle to think of another team from that time period that could say that its female member(s) were the most powerful or that their superiority was openly acknowledged by every male member of the team.

Sue was also an active part of the team from the beginning and went everywhere her team members did—to the moon, other planets, other dimensions, Monster Island, the heart of Latveria, up against the Hulk, Skrulls, the Molecule Man, etc.—no matter how dangerous. She occasionally even spearheaded their attacks on villains and even made her own battle plans. In Fantastic Four v1 #3, which was only the FF’s third appearance, Sue goes after the Miracle Man by herself because she believes that she alone will be more effective than an entire army battalion:

Sue takes on a leadership role in these early issues far more often than anyone nowadays ever acknowledges. In Fantastic Four v1 #23, when the FF start to bicker and question why Reed gets to be the one in charge, Ben, Sue, and Johnny all vote for who they think should lead the team—and Sue votes for herself. She isn’t content to simply be a part of the team. It is 1964, and she already wants to lead the FF and thinks it’s time for a woman to do so.

And she one day would. By the 1980s, she was already the FF’s second-in-command, in charge when Reed wasn’t there, and she briefly took over leadership of the team when Reed was abducted and put on trial for saving Galactus’ life. In the 1990s, when Reed was twice presumed dead, Sue became the team leader both times and Ben and Johnny answered to her. By the 2000s and 2010s, the balance of power in Reed and Sue’s relationship has shifted almost entirely in Sue’s favor, to the point that Reed himself admits that Sue is the real leader of the team:

But it’s not as though these panels have no precedent, even all the way back in 1970′s Fantastic Four v1 #98:

Reed and Sue’s relationship has simply never been what fandom makes it out to be -- one that is profoundly unequal, where Sue gets no say at all in anything. It’s always been more of a back-and-forth, more of a partnership. Sue has always had the power to order Reed around (in certain contexts, at least) and Reed has always listened to Sue and her advice. Her power and influence has indisputably increased over the years, but it’s important to note that it was never wholly absent.

I could also point out that Sue has a perfect right to lead the team she was largely responsible for creating. Her role in the formation of the FF tends to be vastly underestimated. Sue was instrumental in orchestrating the FF’s theft of the rocket ship that Reed designed, which has been canon since Fantastic Four v1 #1. Without Sue passionately persuading Ben to fly the rocket (while Reed stood silently by), the flight never would have happened:

Neither was she solely motivated by her love and loyalty to Reed—in this, the original version you see above, her sense of patriotism had just as much to do with why she decided to accompany Reed on the rocket flight. Later writers have even portrayed Sue as being motivated by a love for adventure that rivals Reed’s and, more importantly, as being responsible for pushing Reed to go through with his plan -- Reed says point-blank that he was “content doing pure research” until Sue “pulled me out of the lab and into your amorphous idea of ‘field work.’” Despite the fact that it’s largely (wrongly) understood as Reed’s plan and Reed’s decision, I think that canon actually points to the theft of the rocket ship as being something that Reed and Sue decided and implemented together—or, arguably, even as more Sue’s than it was Reed’s. He floated the idea. She made it happen. Ben decided to pilot the rocket because Sue talked him into it. Johnny tagged along because of his love for Sue. The FF would never have come into being if not for Sue.

While 1960s Reed has become something of the poster boy for 1960s sexism in fandom, I think that attitude is unfair, inaccurate, and detrimental to fandom perceptions of Sue. At the time, Reed certainly wouldn’t have been read that way -- he gave his wife a great deal of freedom and autonomy for the time period, readily acknowledged that she was more powerful than he was, followed her leadership at times, and even personally trained Sue in hand-to-hand combat. Sue, it’s worth pointing out, has always defied and exceeded conventional femininity’s bounds, and Reed has never had an issue with that -- to the contrary, he’s actively supported and encouraged her. In Fantastic Four v1 #17, for instance, Victor abducts Alicia Masters, and Sue is the one who finds her first. When Victor enters the room, Sue is so confident that she can defeat him singlehandedly in hand-to-hand combat that she calls him her prisoner and says that she’s been looking forward to proving what she can do on her own:

And then she does, and Victor is forced to resort to pointing a gun at her to defeat her (this was before her forcefields):

She is so confident that she can beat him in hand-to-hand because she has been trained to fight by Reed, who even in the 1960s thought his girlfriend should know how to fight and didn’t think it too unladylike. 

Furthermore, I would argue that Sue chose to marry Reed rather than Namor precisely because Reed was significantly more respectful of her agency, consent, and right to self-determination and bodily autonomy than Namor ever was (...not that that’s a high bar). In Fantastic Four v1 #11, Reed, while discussing his and Sue’s lengthy romance (at the time, they were childhood sweethearts who had known each other their whole lives), brings up the fact that Sue has not decisively chosen between him and Namor. Sue tells him that she doesn’t know how she feels, and Reed very respectfully says that he understands how she feels and promises he won’t mention it again until she does, a promise he, crucially, keeps. 

Fantastic Four v1 #27, however, is the pivotal issue where Sue definitively chooses Reed over Namor, and she does so because Namor proves to her that he has no respect for her or her wishes while Reed proves that he does. The issue begins with Namor deciding unilaterally that he has waited long enough for Sue to make up her mind -- he wants the decision made on his terms, at his pace, rather than on Sue’s. So he announces to his people that he’s going to marry Sue now (without having bothered to ask her what she wants, if she’s ready, etc.) and then goes to the Baxter Building and beats up Sue’s family. When she arrives, she is horrified at what he’s done and frantically tries to see if her 17yo baby brother is all right, but Namor knocks her out and abducts her. She wakes up to find herself trapped in a glass bowl and screams to be let out, but Namor ignores her pleas:

This is a clear violation of Sue’s right to bodily autonomy and self-determination. She does not want to be in that glass bowl, but Namor does not listen to her or care about her consent. Namor is attempting to coerce Sue into behaving as he wishes -- i.e., imposing his will on her -- rather than allowing her to make up her own mind as Reed did. And he has the colossal gall to literally blame the victim by implying that she made him abduct and imprison her because of her indecisiveness. Reed, let me point out, never felt the need to do the same, despite being in a worse situation, given that he and Sue had known each other their whole lives, been dating for years, and were virtually engaged before Namor showed up. Despite all that, when Namor taunts Reed by asking what he would do if Sue chose Namor rather than him, Reed replies that Sue will, of course, decide for herself -- but on her time and her terms, not on Namor’s or Reed’s. Sue, unsurprisingly, announces at the end of this issue that she loves Reed and not Namor, and that was the end of the love triangle for the next decade. 

Reed continues to be uncertain about her feelings, however. He doesn’t propose until Fantastic Four v1 #35, and he does so only after Sue herself says that she has been waiting for him to propose and echoes back the phrase (“It’s always been you!”) that Reed used to declare his love for her in Fantastic Four v1 #11. He waited until she signaled to him that she was ready, on her own terms and at her own pace. 

I keep reading people wondering why Sue would have chosen a nerd like Reed over a hunk like Namor, and this is why. Reed proved to Sue that he respected her right to decide who she loves on her time and her terms, and Namor proved definitively that he did not.

And even after Sue marries Reed and has a baby, she does not quit the team or remain at home. While she does take a brief leave of absence during her pregnancy, she returns to active duty in a rather spectacular way. Reed, Ben, Johnny, and Crystal are all in Latveria, powerless, and on the verge of being blown up by Doom’s bombs, along with the village they are in. The bombs go off...and everyone is mysteriously fine. No one can understand why they’re still alive until Sue materializes, and they realize that she saved everyone with her forcefields. 

Reed is overjoyed that she’s there -- despite the extreme danger -- and not at all upset by the fact that she has returned to active duty. Let me also point out that there was never any question of Sue leaving the team after she married Reed or even after she had a baby, and this at a time when it was expected and commonplace for women to quit their jobs and become housewives after marriage. Reed, Ben, Johnny -- they all simply assumed Sue would continue on the team as she always had. 

So of course comics in the 1960s were sexist, of course Sue was sometimes frustratingly passive and silent by today’s standards, but that doesn’t erase or diminish all of the times when she was not. Sue has been fighting tooth and nail to assert herself as an equal for decades, and personally, I think that her tenacity, determination, and courage even when belittled and underestimated by the men around her make her just as much of a hero as her superpowers, if not more so, and I am, frankly, tired of fandom's constant belittlement of Sue.