#deeply unsettled by the possibility of the wrong kind of success

[b-lysia]

what ways is it "okay" to exist?

What nature does not eat and chew to have form?

To give form to thought?

flesh makes thoughts

and flesh makes thoughts

green or red, flesh makes thoughts.

Maybe it is better to give up flesh, than have flesh made thoughts

[max1461]

Hmm. Ok, let me preface this by saying that I know that in a general sense you have something of a utopian modernist outlook, and that you frequently interact with people of varying degree of expertise claiming "I know, due to my expertise, that your utopian modernist idea will not work". And often these people are wrong, or their expertise is of a type you reject as non-credible (and I usually agree), and I am concerned about coming off as one of these people.

But.

I think your utopian modernist idea will not work.

Actually, first, I should ask this: what features would a language "better designed than English" have? Setting aside orthography; I'm talking about the structure of the language itself. And how would you measure the improvement?

I ask because people have been trying to design improved spoken languages for a couple hundred years (indeed, it's how conlanging started), and nobody's had any success. This appears not just to be because it's hard to get anybody to learn your conlang. The futility of trying to design a "more logical language" or what-have-you is basically every young conlanger's first lesson. Perhaps it is a lesson ill-learned, but I don't suspect so.

Natural languages are not, uh, randomly distributed in possible-language-space. They all have pretty significant structural similarities. Nobody has a very good overall theory for why this is true, but it is true. The question "if you design a language that violates these patterns, and teach it to children as their native language... what would happen?" is an experiment that has been proposed, but we can't do it for ethical reasons. There's a lot of anecdotal evidence, including from second-language learners of Lojban, (as well as evidence from creolization and studies on neglected children and so on) that says the answer is something like "they would just change it to accord with natural language universals and speak it that way".

I think it's probably impossible to design a language that people actually speak that is fundamentally structurally different from what we have. This seems include to include all kinds of weird and specific constraints that the utopian conlanger would not even be aware of, like "don't center-embed subordinate clauses with depth greater than two" and so on. One of the things you might like to have, and may not be able to have for deep fundamental reasons, is unambiguous parsability.

You might be able to circumvent the human mind's constraints here if you were very clever and had a really good theory of syntax, but, well, nobody has a very good theory of syntax.

I can't say with confidence ''this just isn't possible", because if I could, that would entail a better understanding of the language faculty than anyone actually has. But I think the search for a human-learnable spoken language that is in some significant way structurally different from natural language is a bit like the search for an odd perfect number. I can't promise you you won't find it, but uh... good luck. You will not be the first to have tried.

Right, but, ok, maybe you don't want something deeply structurally new. Maybe you're fine with the overall "shape" of natural language, with its ambiguous parsing and its constantly-developing morphological redundancy and so on, you just want an optimum within these constraints.

Ok, that's where measuring the improvement comes in. Because there are a lot of natural languages already existing, and the question of whether they have any significant impact on cognition is totally unsettled. To do this project you have to, uh, solve the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis and then determine what the best features for a natural language are and then invent one with those features and then get everybody to speak it. And then you have to somehow prevent language change, which will incur inevitable drift back to the sorts of structures which it seems to naturally generate (and which characterize the languages we already have). This is a task which every generation has been trying to do at various levels of effort and coordination since ancient Rome and which nobody has yet managed. The kids always talk different than their parents, and nobody has been able to stop them yet. I think the task of preventing language change is, well, probably just flatly impossible with our current levels of technology.

And then, of course, I'll make my final objection, which is... is living in a multilingual world actually much of a problem? I just am not sure that it is. I know it rubs up against the nerd aesthetic taste for standardization and consistency, but like... aside from discrimination on the basis of language and so on, in terms of the direct social and economic impact of multilingualism, is it significant? I asked this of @deaths-accountant at one point and they said they did not know of any studies on it. We don't have the technology to enforce even a slowing of language change (and even if we did, the policies required would be ghastly authoritarian), and we don't know what an "improved" language would even constitute, and we don't know if one would even be cognitively possible. But we do have the technology for really good, really fast machine translation, that (especially with the rapid growth of LLMs) I would bet will make cheap, accurate, live interpretation accessible to almost anyone within the decade. Surely that's a safer bet than than a new Esparantism!

linguistic diversity is so cool but so inconvenient. everything should be written in some language that's better-designed than English that i already learned from birth and never have to study

[icyowl]

Hawks’s wings have a mind of their own (headcanons)

A/N: some slight suggestive themes, so don’t like read this to your parents or anything.

You were about to step off a curb right into the path of a cyclist and suddenly you were mom-armed back onto the sidewalk. It was a powerful force that almost had you tripping back onto your butt. He was standing next to you with a smirk, so you thought this was his cheeky way of keeping you safe.

Internally though, this man is screaming. What the hell was that? This has never happened before with his other girlfriends. It wasn’t hero instinct either -- his wing had yanked him to you.

He gets flustered the next time. 

Once is a fluke, but twice is a pattern.

You hadn’t seen the old glass mason jar come off the top shelf along with whatever you were reaching for until it was heading straight down to your face. There was nothing to do other than brace for a painful impact. You were surprised at the large gust of wind and a deafening shatter of glass. Hawk’s wing had narrowly missed your head and full on backhanded that mason jar across the room. Wasn’t his fault the glass shattered when it hit the wall, but he did offer to clean it up.

Even his feathers will detach from their home and come to your aid. Can’t reach something? They’ve already scooped it up and are offering it to you. About to trip over a pair of shoes that got left out? They’re pushing them out of the way. Something’s heavy? Well now they’re carrying it for you.

Yes, they do unconsciously cover you from rain if you’re both caught outside. It’s cliche but damn if it doesn’t make your heart all big and mushy.

Weeks later it was snowing and the two of you were walking in a park because you insisted on seeing the beautiful new scenery. Even with all the clothes, gusts of wind burst through your layers and made you shiver a little. It wasn’t that bad, but suddenly there was one of his wings coming to your rescue. Not only did it wrap carefully around your waist, but his alula arced over your head so you weren’t just getting hugged, you were being surrounded by fuzz and fluff.

Hawks was looking ahead and hadn’t stopped talking, so it was clear he hadn’t realized what he’d done. It wasn’t until you carefully grabbed one of his primary feathers to further bring his wing around you that he broke consciousness and saw what was happening. Christ, he thought, I have to talk to someone about this.

He finally decided to share his findings with you when a particularly heavy makeout session gave his wings enough control to ever-so-carefully slip under your shirt before stiffening and -- rriiippp -- sending the shredded remains to the floor and causing you to cover yourself in utter surprise. Again, his wings had never done that before.

‘The talk’ has nothing to do with changing bodies or how to avoid pregnancy. No, this talk with Hawks involves him sitting you down and haphazardly trying to explain to you that his wings just do stuff when you’re around. He tried to get help from other animal-based quirk users after the day it snowed, and they all said they had experienced the same things: animalistic appendages moving on their own, instincts becoming overwhelmingly powerful for people they hold dear, even making strange noises during times of excitement for that special someone.

It can get embarrassing when others are around because he’s got a persona to maintain and now he can’t control his own limbs so what does that say about his abilities? Someone makes a joke that hits you the wrong way at a gala and suddenly a wing has placed itself in front of you and is pushing you back behind your date. Hawks’s wing had tried to place you under his protection by all but pinning you to his spine. People began to stare when they realized the almighty Hawks had subconsciously tried to protect your honor. That one had been fun to try and explain away.

Someone tried to attack Hawks and you out of the blue one day and triggered both his predatory and protective instincts. A wing lashed out and shoved you back and out of harm's reach. The force was powerful enough to make you fall and almost hit your head. Meanwhile Hawks had become an entirely different creature than the carefree one you had grown too accustomed to.

Now, Hawks isn’t a big guy. He’s average height and got a slim build. However, the sudden intensity of his presence was frightening and growing more powerful by the second as he all but stalked the man who had tried to come after you. Hawks was now an apex hunter cornering his prey with his animalistic gaze alone. Wings came up to make him larger than his opponent, furthering his status as a high ranking animal and crowning him king over his opponent.

Hawks didn’t speak -- he might have even lost the ability to -- and that made him even scarier. Instead he growled deep and powerful with a timber only a beast could perform. This wasn’t a person anymore.

Unbeknownst to you or Hawks, his eyes had constricted to onyx specs hooded by eyelids lowered in powerful contempt for the insufferable cretin that had dared harm his mate in such an underhanded method. At least face him head on like someone of power would do.

You could only see Hawks from the back, but he was still unsettling to watch. You’d never want to be frightened of him, but this was so unexpected.

It was only your scream that brought Hawks out of his hunt. It hadn’t occurred to you during the commotion that the assailant would have a compatriot. You were being dragged away for only a couple of feet before Hawks registered the threat and all but lunged at the woman who had the audacity to lay a hand on you.

Hawks came at you in one movement, so swift and violent you closed your eyes. A gust of wind disturbed your hair, and a weight settled gently over you. For all his ferocity, Hawks stopped on a dime over top of you, hunched low to the ground and incinerating the female attacker with just his eyes.

You weren’t scared now. Sure, Hawks was something entirely different right now, but the way he covered you and kept you close to the ground with his body could only be an action of protection. He had one knee and one foot on either side of your waist, with one hand planted firmly on the ground right next to your head and the other wielding a primary feather as a blade.

His wings fanned out to their maximum reach and skimmed the ground. They were covering any possible blind spots Hawks might have whilst protecting your sight from seeing any lethal damage their owner might cause in the next few seconds. Time slowed enough for one wing to lean down and barely brush your hand in a show of comfort. It was trying to convey to you that you were safe now, and wanted to see if you were okay. Hawks’s wings were sensitive enough to gauge the wellbeing of a person based on a second of contact, and you knew that was what he was unconsciously doing now.

Seeing their odds of success diminishing by the second, the two assailants took off with screams of apology thrown over their shoulders.

There was a pause while Hawks regained his mental acuity and composure. He slowly lowered his head onto your own and breathed in deeply. It was a deeply compassionate action that contrasted sharply with the man of instinct that had pinned you under him only a couple of seconds ago. “You’re okay?”

You were still too jarred to do much other than nod and hum an approval. “Thank you.”

It took him some time to convince himself the threats were gone and to get off of you.

You had a nightmare that same night. Hawks was still waking up when his wings pulled you over to him. You couldn’t remember much of the dream, but it must have been a bad one; you felt fine, but tears were clearly running down your face. Again his wing was there, gentler than a lamb as it wiped the paths of water from your cheeks and dried the corners of your eyes.

The next time you do the dirty, it becomes surprisingly intimate. He totally caught you off guard when his wings wrapped around him to slip under your body and basically hug you to him while you guys are getting down to business. You knew him well enough to see the uncertainty in his face: he’d never felt this way before, or done things like this. This part of him had never been this powerful before and it made him nervous. What if he was changing? What if he was losing himself?

His canines had grown and sharpened so talking was really difficult. All you had to go off of were his eyes of wariness and a hint of shame. For Christ’s sake, he couldn't even speak to you right now. What did that say of him? Hawks felt nothing like himself right now and it was quite unsettling.

The best and only thing you could think of to prove to him was to show that you accepted all of him, even the parts of him he tried not to show or didn’t understand. You manifested that affection in your mouth, and touched it gently to his own. That night was spent cocooned in his rumbling, chesty calls and easing him through the bouts of potent instinctual desire that almost consumed him. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he was worried he would cause you harm with all this emotion and intensity crashing through his blood. Your presence and comforting words helped him keep the worst of it at bay and work through it. After that night you achieved a closeness few could imagine.

If you’re ever in a combat situation, Hawks likes to put you between him and a wall and use his wings to stretch back and cage you in, in a sort of triangle of protection. He knows you’re not weak or anything, he knows that… but he can’t help himself.

You talk to his wings as if Hawks isn’t there. It’s a whole thing. He can’t meet your eyes ‘cause it's cute and he’s not supposed to enjoy it this much so he’s trying not to react. Thankfully you only do these kinds of antics in private. When you coo and gush over them they puff out without warning and rub into you like an overzealous dog.

--------

As a fellow birb I sympathize with this man. It’s okay to like shiny objects Hawks, no one will judge you.

[kl4us4]

AMPLIFICATION (Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader)

Summary: S4 E24, where Spencer is poisoned by anthrax.

masterlist

Warning: angsty, bit sad, building tension

Within 18 hours of their common time together, 12 people who visited Quiet Hills Park in Annapolis, Maryland, have died from anthrax poisoning, with at least 13 more in emergency rooms headed in the same direction. You were with Emily and Rossi when he had gotten the call from Morgan. At the time, you weren’t sure what the hell it was about. Another attack maybe? The unsub’s been poisoning areas around town, spreading powdered anthrax into the air. It takes as little as three hours to settle into its victims’ system, filling their lungs and brain with blood before they die.

Rossi’s face fell slightly, you noticed it. If it had been anyone who knew him less, they wouldn’t have taken note of his change in demeanour. But you know him. And the way his eyes flicked to you before he hung up the phone had made your stomach sink. He wouldn’t provide any updates, only that you were all needed back at the BAU HQ.

“Hotch wants to speak to you himself.” That was all Rossi had said to you. And that was it. You kept quiet the ride to the office. Emily and Rossi spoke about the case and the possible unsub. You’d have joined in but an unsettling pain in your gut was making you feel uneasy.

And when you had walked into the office, you felt Hotch’s eyes immediately find you. They had lingered on you. That was when you got the first inkling that something was off. Something bad. Hotch mumbled something to a military officer, walking past him to stand with JJ and Garcia as the rest of the team approached. Everyone was on edge, that much was clear. The air in the office was stale and riddled with nerves. Spencer and Morgan weren’t there, that was the second clue that something had gone horribly wrong.

“Some of you have heard,” Hotch began, his solemn eyes moved around the group with an intensity you’d never seen before. His eyebrows were furrowed more than usual, and his posture was stiff. But you could tell at the time that he tried to come off as casual and calm. “Morgan and Reid visited the potential unsubs house. They found traces of anthrax. Morgan didn’t make it inside the house but Reid is in there now getting intel on our unsub. I can confirm he has come into contact with anthrax.”

You can’t even explain how deeply your stomach had sunk in that moment. There was a chill that settled in the room, you felt it raise the hairs on your arms as it brought a cool sweat to your neck. The only thing you could think of was that young girl you and Reid had spoken to in the ER just hours before. She was coughing up blood and could barely move, all because of anthrax. The same anthrax that was making its way through Spencer’s body, destroying everything it could as fast as it could. And by the end of it, he wouldn’t be able to even say his own name. 

When Hotch spoke your name, if broke you free of your panicked mind and you met his concerned gaze, “Got that? Help Garcia make a geographical profile, look for anything in his past that could tie into a new target area.” You just nodded at your superior and everyone left to do their assigned jobs. “Y/L/N,” Hotch muttered, his voice deep and quiet but stern enough to get your attention.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before you turned back to Hotch. You did everything you could to keep eye contact with him. “Sir?”

“I need to know your head is in the right place,” He states, his voice wasn’t harsh or disappointed; it was calm and understanding, “I need everyone’s full attention on this case, many lives depend on it. If you’re unable to work this case, let me know now.”

“I’m able,” you responded quickly, with an eager nod, “I’m sure.”

Hotch seemed... unconvinced. But if he was truly worried, he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t pull you from the case or grill you harshly to see where you’re truly at. Hotch had seen the eager way you tried to assure him that you were okay. And in that moment, where you had given him a desperate nod, he realised that you needed to work this case. If you didn’t, you would have nothing to keep you distracted from the impending death your boyfriend was in. So, Hotch, being ever formal, just gave you a small nod. And he placed a gentle hand on your tense shoulder. It was comforting, you needed it. It made you feel less alone. When Hotch left you, you couldn’t help but stand there for a second with your eyes shut. You tore any thought of Spencer from your mind. This is a case. You reminded yourself. This is an important case. And when you opened your eyes again, you headed straight to Garcia’s lair.

You stared at the map of the area. The abrasive red, showing the places he’s already attacked. The yellow, showing possible targets. And the blue, his residence. It was almost as though your eyes were engrossed by the blue as you watched, thinking, analysing, profiling where an unsub like this would go next.

“Spencer,” you snapped your head to Garcia, seeing her smiling as she placed a hand on her headset. Your eyes were slightly wide as you watched her, seeing her press a few buttons.

“What, no witty greeting?” Spencer questioned, his voice sounded rough and dry. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of it. For all you had known at the time, that was possibly the last time you would ever hear his voice.

“It’s hard to be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” Garcia admitted to her sick friend, her brown eyes were stuck to the floor.

Spencer took a pause, shuffling around a bit. You could almost picture him holding his phone up to his ear, leaning against a table with his other arm. Or sitting down, one leg draped over the other, looking around the room as he speaks. “Uh, Garcia,” he took a shaky breath, “I need a favour.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to - to send my mom a message. From me. I just... I need her to hear my voice - if anything happens to me.”

It was too much. It was way too much. You quickly left the room, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from coming. This is a case. This is an important case. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. You hung outside of Garcia’s room, unable to hear the muffled conversation until she pulled the door open. Her face was on the other side, giving you a sympathetic and kind expression; one that you couldn’t return even if you tried.

“Any updates?” You asked Garcia, wishing that her eyes didn’t look so curious. She looked like she wanted to question you about the whole thing like she wanted to press you about sharing your emotions. This isn’t an unfamiliar thing for Garcia to do. So you knew the look she was giving you at the time.

“They know who it is. They have a location.” She responded, watching as you reached for your gun and badge. She gave you the address.

“I can kill everyone here!” The unsub now screams, his voice echoing through the tunnel of the subway. You watch as he grips his duffel bag by his side so hard that his knuckles turn white. No one understands, no one can possibly know why he’s doing this. He’s trying to help. He wants everyone to know that THIS is what happens when people are unprepared - when people don’t listen. You see Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss aiming their guns at him rapidly. They’re watching him like hawks watch their prey. But you can tell they’re afraid. “I’ll do it!” Chad shouts.

“Why would you do that?” you ask him calmly, lowering your gun gently and placing it back into your holster, “We have the General of Detrick who wants to meet with you. He’s on his way down right now.”

Hotch quietly speaks into his radio, requesting the General to come down to the subway with them. “He... he is?” Chad asks, his grasp on the duffel bag looser now.

“Of course he is,” you give him a small smile, “You created a strain of anthrax never seen before.”

“I did,” he mumbles to himself, letting go of his duffel bag, “Where is he?” He asks, more forcefully now. When you don’t answer straight away, he grips his bag tighter again, “Where is he?!”

“Right here.” General Whitworth speaks up, descending the subway stairs. He walks to Chad, a calm yet slightly forced smile on his face. “Chad Brown, yes? I’m General Whitworth. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now.”

The way Chad’s face lights up gives you some hope. An unsub like this wants recognition from a high power or authority. Now that he’s getting it, he won’t try anything else. “Really?” Chad mumbles, in awe of the man in front of him.

“Really,” the General responds, “Now, how about we get that bag from you so we can talk, huh?”

Chad nods, removing his bag gently and handing it to another officer. And just like that, Morgan is by Chad's side, handcuffs on his wrists and arresting the confused man. You can’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. Not yet. Turning to Hotch, he hasn’t even put his gun away when you walk up to him.

“Sir,” you get his attention, “Can I - uh, may I go-”

“Go,” he nods, “Go see him.”

Rushing through the emergency wing, you search for him. There are so many people, you almost walk right past him. But there he is, curtains draw around most of his bed as he sleeps. Making your way beside him, the closer you get, the slower you move. God, he looks so tired. He’s always had bags under his eyes but with the way his skin has gone pale, they look multiplied. His forehead glistens with a bit of sweat and his hair is messy. But his vitals seem steady, you sneak a look at his chart, flicking through to the most updated page.

Stable. Positive outcome. Treatment successful.

“Hey... That’s personal information.”

Looking up, you see Spencer squinting down at you as he tries to open his eyes fully. “Spencer,” you breathe out, rushing to his side. You pull the chair closer to his bed, sitting down beside him, “Don’t, don’t move too much. How do you feel?”

He lets out a grunt, ignoring what you say and sitting up anyways, “I’ve been better.” He admits. His voice is still rough and dry, despite there being a glass of water on his bedside table. It must be a side effect.

“Here,” you mutter, gently handing him the glass.

He takes it, hands slightly shaky with weakness as he brings the glass to his mouth and takes a sip. You place it back on the table for him. It’s only then that the two of you share a look. It’s filled with the silence of the curtained square but the bustling hospital outside.

Just like that, solely from being able to meet his gaze, you feel tears beginning to build up in your eyes. “No, no,” he mumbles quietly, arms stretched out towards you, “No, don’t cry.”

Spencer cradles you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest. His hands rub your back, attempting all he can to soothe you as you sob gently against him. “You’re such an idiot,” you grunt against him, pulling back to wipe at your eyes, “You’re such an idiot, you should’ve left that room.”

“You know that I couldn’t,” he responds casually, knowing you don’t mean it - you’re just allowing all the built-up stress to flow out of you now that you’re no longer on the clock. “I’m sorry I had you all worried.” He gives you a small smile, “I’m okay, really. The doctor said I’m going to be fine.”

You nod, inhaling deeply as you sit back in your chair. You hold his hand though, squeezing it tenderly. “I could’ve lost you today,” you admit to him, “All I wanted to do was see you - but I couldn’t. I had to make a stupid map,” you let out a pathetic laugh, “And the whole time I just kept thinking-” you cut yourself off, shutting your eyes as more tears find their way to your cheeks. The same sinking feeling makes your chest ache and you begin to feel like you can’t breathe.

“No, Y/N, it’s-”

“I just - I kept thinking about when I could finally see you. And I - I didn’t want to be late. I kept having this thought that I would rush here and it’d be too late and I - I-“ you sniff, letting out a sob as you shake your head, “I’d just be too late and you’d just be... gone.” You admit to him, letting the tears coat lines down your face. Spencer listens, eyes stuck on you as he tears up at seeing you cry. “I didn’t make it in time and you were alone.”

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.” He squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a long, slow kiss to it before he looks up at you, “And so are you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, giving him a small nod and gentle smile. “Now, come here,” he gives you a smile, gesturing for you to be closer to him.

Letting out a small chuckle, you lean forward to Spence. You meet one another in a slow kiss, savouring this moment. When you pull back, Spencer presses his lips to your forehead.

“I brought Jello.” Sitting back, you turn to see Morgan holding a red cup in his hand. He gives Spencer a grateful smile, “Good to see you, kid.”

“Likewise,” Spencer responds, giving Morgan a friendly expression. Morgan notices the tears on both your faces and the way the two of you try to discreetly wipe them away. But he says nothing, he just sits down beside you and begins to eat his jello as the conversation moves on.

[hopeymchope]

Magia Record: Reflecting on the Anime and the Game’s Story Ending

With Magia Record's story now complete in-game and with the anime "finished" (only the first season, but it took until literally this past weekend for the production team at Shaft to acknowledge that the second season is coming/inevitable), I have like… a ton of thoughts about where the game and the anime landed.

This will probably mostly be gripes, but overall, I'm still pretty happy with both. I've invested my past year into Magia Record during a lot of my free time, and hey – no regrets here. That game was absolutely worth the experience. The anime? Jury's still out somewhat, but it looks good so far.

This is definitely a normal thing to find surrounding a radio tower.

Anime Adaptation Thoughts:

The original Madoka Magica anime made the world feel slightly off-kilter by employing locations that were just a little off the rails from reality. The producers noted Madoka's bathroom as an important example; it's simply too large and has too much wasted space. It's maybe the biggest room in their house for no discernible reason, and that's by design, because it feels wrong. Another one was the music store we see in the first episode, where the technology is noticeably on a level that you just can't find in any real shop. On the flip side, the Magia Record anime creates a world that is deeply bizarre in many ways – much moreso than the original anime or the Magia Record game world. This is probably because the creator of the witch designs in the original was given far more creative control over the series as a whole this time around, and the result was BUGNUTS. Take note of the massive stack of discarded school desks that is arranged in a dangerous, precarious pile atop the school building (helpfully labeled as a waste pile, despite the fact that… well, who is picking up these garbage desks from the goddamn roof?). That's some imagery straight out of a witch's labyrinth, but it is ostensibly "reality." I think that's where Magia Record's anime really goes bugnuts, sometimes to powerful effect in that it makes things feel more unsettling… and sometimes to ridiculous effect. I mean, the field surrounding the radio tower now being replaced with a yard of jagged, cockeyed, towering gravestones and cross-like woodwork dangling with ropes and tridents? That's a LOT. That's… that's too much.

Look, if you were a die-hard fan of Kaede in the game, I am deeply sorry, because your girl got done DIRTY by the anime. Anyone who played the game who then sees where she winds up at the end of episode 12 is likely on a train straight to Double-You Tee Eff Station. I can't deny that it makes sense for the limited story she's given to develop across, but it was still disappointing to see. I suppose we don't really have the time to develop up all of the other characters from the game, so somebody had to sub in for this role… but oof.

Sana's backstory with her family is not nearly explained or explored enough in the show. I honestly think it comes off as confusingly unclear why they treated her like this or why they didn't notice her vanish at all. The game justifies this devastatingly well, but it feels like it's not clear at all here.

I think they could've had Kyubey run around Kamihama for part of the first season before he got ousted/blocked, and I think it would've been beneficial to do so. Now, that's not just because I love his character and find him fascinating, although that's definitely true, but it's also because there's so much exposition that I wish he could deliver to the characters about what's happened before we got here. Like, the tragic truth about Felicia's backstory is wonderfully awful, and I wish there was some way to deliver that into the anime, but I don't think it's possible without a ton of flashbacks. (And to be fair, players of the game may never know it without playing her particular Magical Girl Story.)

The change to not having Mami attack Yachiyo when they first meet was something I felt was a positive move. I loved that Mami got to have a moment she never had in the game during the Radio Tower arc, too. In generally, I enjoyed the slower, more piecemeal involvement of the original Holy Quintet, which has served as nice slow tease compared to having them be more upfront in the game. I did kind of miss the Madoka/Homura involvement in the radio tower case, but I ultimately came away feeling like it was better to save those two for later in the story because they're probably the best-known characters from the original series.

The combat soundtrack is exquisite - maybe better than ever before, honestly. The Magia Record anime has the best fight music in the series outside of, say, Rebellion.

Game's Ending Thoughts: (Spoilers Within)

The anime cutscenes in the final chapter are delightful.

Puella Magi has never shied away from having its characters die in the original anime or in the many manga stories. I'd argue that those deaths are at least part of what makes it such a successful subversion of the Magical Girl formula; the threat of death (often via witchiness) establishes the idea of there being permanent consequences that simple hope and faith and love can't overcome in spite of what those other anime may have told you. On the other hand, Magia Record turns out to have very close to zero consequences. Aside from established deaths from flashbacks that have occurred before the game even begins, by the end of the game, literally no one dies. Not even the most blatantly psychotic character is allowed to shuffle off her mortal coil; she just "disappears" and escapes. I particularly like (please note the sarcasm) how three different characters do some kind of "super-move" during the final two chapters that is said to most likely kill them, and yet they all survive them! At least ONE character winds up with some paralysis, but jeez, the others walk away completely unscathed. I can only hope the anime doesn't go quite so weak in the knees about any of the characters suffering actual consequences from the potentially-world-ending-level battles that occur.

I previously griped that I actually expected the psychos responsible for the entire storyline to get off scot-free, and although they don't get off 100% free and clear by the time the credits role, they come extremely close to doing so. However, I was really happy with the "Cherry Blossom Dreams" epilogue event, because there is dialogue in there that has the Magius admit that whatever guilt they have now, they are still capable of being complete sociopaths who want to dominate the Earth. That one person's presence (Ui) shouldn't be (and isn't) enough to keep them from being incredibly dangerous. Ultimately, the solution/punishment they receive is probably the best one available in light of their overall survival. Well done.

Speaking of the Magius, I mean… is it really possible that so many feathers never questioned that they were following a couple of 11/12-year-olds and one blatantly obvious psychotic? I guess having face time with the Magius was pretty rare, but there was still enough that some of the feathers declared their allegiance was primarily to those three above all else. And most magical girls range closer to 16 than to 11, I mean, y'know? Which is practically an eternity in terms of maturity. So I guess MIfuyu did a lot of heavy lifting on NOT making them seem like absolutely the worst possible choices for leadership, huh? (And for that reason: Mifuyu got off fucking LIGHT.)

Aaaand speaking of "one obvious psychotic," I find it funny how almost nobody knows Alina outside of her Magius role except for Karin. Because, just… it's so perfect. Karin (who is not a "Karen") happens to be the most insanely tolerant person when it comes to Alina. She seems to shrug off Alina's entire everything as amusing, forgivable quirks. Perhaps because so many people believe Karin's own obsession with Halloween is a weirdly morbid quirk, Karin doesn't even question Alina's obsession with making art about death using actual human remains. Which is… funny? No, seriously. I think it's legitimately comedic in a good way. But it should probably be much more alarming to me that she doesn't care. I'd like to think that Karen feels it's just delightfully Halloween-y for Alina to paint her canvas with legit blood, and I do believe Karin isn't really the kind of person who would ask where the blood came from because whatever, it's probably fine, better get back to planning my pageant or something. She probably even thinks Alina's skulls are plastic Halloween decorations. :P

We need to talk about Mami: Mami in "Another Story Chapter 9" felt so off and out-of-character compared to how she was written in things like Rebellion or A Different Story or Wraith Arc, and furthermore, despite that chapter being entirely about Mami wanting to just be a simple peer with no superiority over the rest of the Holy Quintet, Another Story Chapter 10 has her immediately revert back to being the smart senpai character, further cementing how weirdly "off" Chapter 9 felt. I realize they had something difficult to write, here, though. It's painful how Sayaka has to run middlewoman between Kyoko and Mami in Chapter 10 of AS. I feel like I could write a whole screed about Kyoko's behavior across the franchise and how difficult a character she is for me to like even though I "get it" and don't think she's necessarily a bad person; she's just living on the edge of being almost a total hypocrite basically ALL THE TIME. The conclusion where Kyoko acknowledges that she's going to continue to work with Mami and the others semi-regularly in spite of everything is really the best closure you can hope for with her. She's too antagonistic to give us much else, and she prefers it that way. It would take years to see her mellow.

At this point, it seems safe to assume that there isn't going to be any "season 2" of the game like what happened with Fate/Grand Order after its finale. The main narrative is well and truly done, and it's just going to be various events from here on out. Is that enough to keep me around? Um. I don't know. Probably not? Hard to say. I don't really know what other mobile game to throw my heart into. I've considered Attack on Titan Tactics, but like… Attack on Titan hasn't been kind to me lately so uhhhhh.

[tfwhynoy]

Megatron finding out his crush (alien if possible if not human) ((if alone same size ish if you don’t mind? No biggie with that though)) was a gladiator? And maybe said crush showing some scars (anywhere) and then some fluff, confession then make out? If you don’t mind, of course!

So I forgot about the whole confession and make out part but fuck do I love the creature and would love to make a continuation of this. I’ll probably even make a drawing because there was so much description of them I left out. Just know if possible I’m going to have one of these creatures be the reader when applicable because I love it that much. I really hope y’all enjoy

You were a peculiar creature, to say the least.  Few organics were as large as your species, let alone ones that also lived as long. Your kind had originally been made to fight, often sent to fight in wars on distant planets. A free one is a rare sight and one you are proud of being.

You had always jumped from place to place, planet to planet. Not many were fond of you. Three sets of large arms and sharp claws as hard as steel weren’t a friendly sight. Your more ‘uncivilized’ proportions didn’t help, many saw your ability to run on four legs like an animal as yet another point to be hostile towards you.

It’s when you finally reached into the places where larger inorganics and the rarer sized organics were commonplace that things truly began to look up. You still didn’t quite fit in perfectly, but you could get work and found your many sets of arms a great use in busy places like bars where you could serve several people at the same time.

After a while, you had heard about a large underground fighting ring. It paid more money than you had anything ever seen in your entire life. Per match. 

You cautiously joined in and found great success. You were an oddity that for the first time, was celebrated. The more brutally you fought, the more you let your instincts take control, the more you shredded your opponent to pieces, the more you got paid. Even in the harder fights that you got injured in you were quick to recover, you always got the best medicine with your newfound riches after all.

Then rings began to get shut down, your fame and animalistic slaughter of opponents was enough to draw attention from the planets legal enforcers. Things began to fall apart again, and you needed to run away.

You spent a large portion of your money to get something to hide who and what you were, an armor that made you look mechanical. Under enough scrutiny, it wasn’t hard to figure out you were still organic. Still, the complete change in looks mixed with the change in deminer was enough to confuse those searching for you as if you were a runaway animal on the loose.

Somehow in all your drifting, you found yourself on the Lost Light, surrounded by cybertronians. Most of them were shorter than you but just a few were taller. Everyone knew you weren’t a cybertronian but everyone but those you were close to assumed you were inorganic. That was most easily seen by those who felt comfortable shit-talking them around you, implying them all to be weak and fragile, assuming they all were like the small squishy humans Swerve was so fond of. As much as you wanted to prove them wrong, to show your true face and rip those people to shreds, you couldn’t. You had spent so long learning to stop letting your instincts control you anymore and you weren’t about to throw all that away.

During your time on the lost light, you had grown closest to Megatron. His similar size and serious demeanor drew you to him. After all, he was one of the few bots who didn’t go off the wall once a week. He was rather standoffish at first but with enough patience, you two happily discussing poetry and past events together. He knew you were organic. Considering the large amount you had to eat you often spent your free time with him talking over a meal, something you couldn’t do with your helmet on. 

It was over such a meal that he asked about the lighter markings on the parts of your neck that were visible.

“Markings?” you touched around your neck for a moment before realizing his mistake, “You mean my scars?”

His brows furrowed, “Scars?”

You smiled, your several rows of sharp teach showing through your thin lips, “When organics get hurt if the wound is deep enough the flesh that heals will often be colored differently. I was a… I think the closest word in your language would be a gladiator? I fought in underground rings for entertainment. Many would try to rip out my throat, not realizing I have a thicker shell-like structure to protect my airways beneath the skin and muscle.”

Something flashed across his face that you couldn’t recognize. “You were a gladiator?”

“Yes. Did I bring up something for you?” 

He gave a small nod, “Shortly before I started the war I was a gladiator. I used it as a starting point, turning the whole world into a ring.”

You nod and take another bit of haunch that makes your meal. Serrated teeth quickly tearing the flesh off as you shake your head back and forth.

You remember the first meal you shared with Megatron. His glass of energon so clean and unthreatening, meanwhile you were left to tear raw flesh from a larger creature’s bones. Megatron had found your display deeply unsettling. Each time you threw back your head to swallow the torn piece whole he tensed. You had offered to not eat in front of him anymore but he said it was his problem. Megatron wouldn’t force a friend to eat in isolation just because he was uncomfortable.

After you swallowed your current bite you looked back to see Megatron completely unfazed, he no longer cared how or what you ate anymore.

“I’m guessing you don’t have the same remnants left on yourself that I do?”

“Scars? No, such scratches tend to be mended after larger injuries,”

“Would you like to see more of mine?”

Megatron blinked in surprise, “Wouldn’t that require you to remove your armor?”

You chuckled and blinked slowly back at him, “You are my friend. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the metal. If you feel comfortable I would gladly show you my scars. I’m quite proud of them, to me they show the many trials I have overcome to become who I am.”

He nodded and you stood from your seat. Had you fewer arms it would take intense instruction and several people to take it off. You knew were all the switches and buttons were and which order to make the metal release. The locks clicked and released, the whole armor splitting down the back to allow you to step out of it. Without you, it folded compactly into a large but unassuming briefcase. The only hint that it was abnormal being its insane weight.

You stretched, you often forgot just how much the armor limited your range of motion.

You looked back at Megatron, expecting him to find you disgusting. He always took time to adjust to anything new about yourself he saw. 

But even as you stood on your two jointed legs and hunched posture he didn’t look at your with anything but curiosity.

You sat back on your chair, stretching out and doing your best to subtly show off your many scars and abnormal joints. “Do you enjoy the view?” You joked.

You could hear his fans kick in as a small smile shone across his face. Even if it was subtle you always loved how cute he was when he got flustered. 

Your smile couldn’t be any wider as you took the last few bites of your meal. A comfortable new conversation about your revealed body settling around you two.

[waejinyoung]

Can’t Swim - EP . 8

Can’t Swim 8

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: you might be questioning where I have been for the past couple of months. I have one word to say that should be a good enough answer. College. I’ve been studying none stop and found no time to write the next episode after university started. The posts will no longer be regular so just keep yourselves updated. Hopefully I will have another 2 episodes up between now and the end of the year at least but don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoy! 

I’m deeply sorry for my absence again x

warnings: nothing

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP . 7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

THIRD PERSON POV

The afternoon continued with Y/N and Jinyoung discussing life and getting to know one another whilst Y/N replied to her emails.

“It’s mind b-boggling how you and J-Jackson may have crossed paths back in 2012…” Y/N had just mentioned how she was training for the London 2012 Olympics to compete for swimming.

“Similar to Jackson, I switched career paths and decided to study architecture. Dad wasn’t the biggest fan until he saw the passion and success I had gained in the industry. He soon came to terms with everything.”

“Wow… do you r-regret it at all?” The clock marked 10:30 pm. You guys had been talking for the past 90 mins, getting to know each other.

“I think I regretted not swimming after deciding to study architecture. I didn’t choose to not compete in the Olympics because I no longer liked swimming so I do regret not continuing although I must say, studying architecture might be the most time consuming degree out there. That’s why later on I decided to apply to become a licensed swimming teacher to undergo lessons. I’d be teaching people how to swim whilst fulfilling my love for swimming.”

“Best of both w-worlds, r-right?”

“Exactly.” Y/N had now placed all her work to aside with her back against the wall, legs crossed enveloped into the conversation.

Some seconds went by and Y/N wanted to know about Jinyoung’s initial dreams.

“What about you? Did you always want to be a singer?”

“Always. I took up d-dance lessons when I was around 15. Then went to a-audition and got in to JYPE. That was when I met J-Jaebeom. We actually d-debuted together as a d-duo group called JJProject to later on d-debut with the r-rest of the g-guys as GOT7. Since t-then they’ve been my f-family rather than just my m-members. I think it’s g-getting to the p-point where I might have spent m-more years of my l-life with them then I did without. Time flies…”

“I could definitely sense the brotherly love you guys all have for each other. So how did becoming an actor happen?”

“I r-requested from the c-company to find roles I could take part in a couple years b-back. First it was small roles in small d-dramas and then being c-casted by more known d-directors to p-play bigger roles. All of that has l-led me to play s-second male lead for ‘When My Love Blooms’.”

“When do the episodes start airing?” Y/N had grown eager about Jinyoung’s talents.

“Hold your h-horses… we haven’t e-even started f-filming yet and won’t be until I r-recover… The original airing d-dates will probably be p-pushed f-further.” Jinyoung’s words drifted into a sudden realisation for his career.

“If only-“ Y/N was about to blame herself again.

“We’ve been through this m-multiple times Y/N. None of this is your f-fault so s-stop blaming yourself for t-things you have no c-control over.”

Y/N had her mouth open ready to retaliate but if she had to be honest… she couldn’t be bothered to fight back considering it was now coming up to 11:00 pm.

“Fine.” Y/N yawned and covered her mouth. Work had been extremely busy today especially with all the news floating around now.

“S-someone’s tired.” Jinyoung eyed Y/N’s tired state and decided to call it a night.

“I still have so much to do. I can’t fall asleep now.”

“C-could you n-not spare an e-early n-night just for t-today?��� Y/N recollected her thoughts weighing up if she could possibly sleep early tonight and get all the work done tomorrow.

“I could…”

“Problem s-solved then. Clear up your b-bed and get your pjs on. I d-don’t want to f-face a t-tired Y/N tomorrow m-morning.” Y/N eyed your mean comment and huffed to your orders.

“Yes, sir.”

2 WEEKS LATER

Y/N’s POV

“Miss, Jinyoung has been recovering quicker than expected. He should be perfectly fine to attend the event. If anything unsettling happens you can give me a direct phone call.”

“Thank you so much Doc.” You gave the doctor a large smile and she reciprocated a reassuring smile.

You entered Jinyoung’s room with your outfit for the architecture awards festival along with you.

“Am I allowed to come?” Jinyoung asked as soon as you entered the room. You gave him a nod.

Jinyoung’s voice was more or less back to 100% and his eye had completed healed by the end of last week. There wasn’t much left until being fully recovered. Possibly parting from the hospital quicker than the original 2 months the doctor had estimated.

“I knew I’d get the green light. I even prepared my outfit because I was so sure I’d be able to come.” You hadn’t seen someone so ecstatic for an awards festival.

“As expected… I’m not even surprised. Will you be able to get dressed? Need any of my help?” Jinyoung was still a little instable since he’s been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks. His legs tend to give out for the first 30 mins.

“I think I can manage. I’ll get dressed quickly and then the bathroom is all yours.” You chuckled at his assumption that you’ll take really long in the bathroom for the event.

Jinyoung heads towards the bathroom and you are left there practising a speech you’ve written for all the awards you and your company have been nominated. This isn’t because you knew you were going to win any of them but… the unprofessional scenes if you guys were to win an award and to not have a speech ready daunted you. There was nothing wrong with being prepared.

15 MINUTES LATER

You must say… I don’t think you had ever laid eyes on someone so handsome in your life before. You could swear that this man was carved by God himself.

“How much deeper are you going to fall into my looks?” You hadn’t realised but you had been staring Jinyoung up and down for the past 30 seconds of him leaving the bathroom. Hair all styled. The suit was literally made for him. His cute bow tie was a little wonky leading you to let out a chuckle.

“What?” Jinyoung’s face turned serious thinking something was wrong with how he looked.

“Your bowtie is wonky.” You stood up from your seat and reached out to fix his bowtie. Your eyes were fixated in straightening the bowtie and all Jinyoung could do was analyse your face and how focussed you were.

“There you go. Looks better now.” You lightly let go off the tie and looked up at Jinyoung who was already staring right back at you. Those bambi eyes were going to be the death of you.

“Thank you. Now go and get yourself ready.” He pinched your nose and then you entered the bathroom with your dress, makeup bag and accessories.

20 MINUTES LATER

“Jinyoung~~” You called out for Jinyoung. You were done with everything but couldn’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress. You had been procrastinating on what to do and just gave up. There’s no way you could zip the dress up alone.

“Yes, Y/N. Is everything alright?” You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

“In a bit of sticky situation… could I ask you to do a favour?”

“Sure, what is it?” You went ahead and unlocked the door for him. He took a step back and couldn’t contain the sight in front of him. You were in a red bandeau strapless dress which had a structured skirt that was shorter at the front and longer at the back with. A very slight trail. Unsurprisingly your makeup was the bare minimum and you had left your natural hair out. His mouth was agape as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“How much longer are you going to stare for Mr Park?” He had been in the same awe you was when he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier on.

“Yes…right… the favour?” His soul re-entered his body trying to compose himself. You could only smile on the effect you had on the prince himself.

“I can’t reach my zipper, could you zip up the back of my dress for me?” You saw his cheeks blush a light pink below the thin layer of bb cream he had on. Without the zip done neither of you were going anywhere so he had to do it.

He wasn’t able to give a verbal response and just nodded. You turned around to have your back facing Jinyoung. He moved your hair to aside exposing half of your back to him. He was blushing so hard right now and was happy to have you facing away from him even though in a matter of seconds you’d be facing him seeing the shades of red planted on his cheeks. Jinyoung gently placed one hand on the zipper and the other hand on your back holding the fabric of your dress still. His fingers grazed your skin and they were a little cold leading you to jolt a little by the surprising cool touch. He notices.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was a little worried. The slightest worrying reaction you make, and he’s so concerned. He’s too sweet.

“Nope, your hands are just a little cold that’s all.” You say whilst you chuckle.

He apologises with his soothing voice and zips up the dress, letting out a quiet done when finished.

You turn back round and thank him for his kind gesture. You also noticed the flush of his cheeks. He’s so cute, you thought. You quickly put your heels on and left Jinyoung’s patient room and entered the hall of the hospital. Expectedly, you guys received some stares and some whistles by the old women sitting outside their patient rooms. The event manager had organised a limousine to pick up each nominee for the awards hence why there was a lovely jet black limousine parked at the entrance of the hospital. The driver spotted you two and guided you the way and kept the door open for you two to enter the fancy vehicle. He ran back to the wheel and started driving towards the venue.

“Anything I need to know beforehand? Who should I present myself as?” Jinyoung had started with the questions during the car drive.

“Who’d you like to present yourself as Jinyoung?” You wanted to fish out his intentions from him.

“Preferably your boyfriend in order to stop those punks from hitting on you but I’d never want to force you into a relationship with me…” He side eyed you as he kept looking out the window. You so wanted him to be your boyfriend.

“Logical. Agreed. If anyone asks, you’re my boyfriend.”

“What an honour.” You slap his thigh due to his sarcastic tone.

“Whatttt? I’m serious. I’m going to be the boyfriend of an amazingly talented architect who’s bound to receive an award tonight. It’s a genuine privilege.” You could only look at him in awe as he described the so called ‘privilege’ he was taking part of.

“If you say so…”

The humming noise from the motor of the limousine was really calming but Jinyoung broke the silence once again.

“Are you nervous?” His tone was much deeper and serious compared to how he was a second ago.

“A little. These awards happen once a year and we’ve progressed so much as a company but so has everyone else in the industry. It’s hard to tell if we’ll be receiving the major validation from the institute. With or without the award tonight I’m so pleased with my company, but it would be nice to get a recognisable achievement for all our hard work.” Jinyoung listened to you as you let out your insecurities for the upcoming night.

“In the little amount of time I’ve met you, I think you’re the only person who deserves all the awards you’ve been nominated for this year. No one can change my thoughts and it’s going to be a pleasure to witness your achievement first hand. I can’t wait.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles trying to calm your nerves down. It was going to be a long night.

30 MINUTES LATER

Your limousine had rocked up to the red carpet laid out on the floor outside of the venue of the awards. You took a deep breath as the driver ran around to Jinyoung’s side of the limousine to let him out. Jinyoung agreed to open your door for you so he exited the vehicle first. Like he had planned, he went around to your side and opened the door for you to step out. The cameras started capturing every single moment as you wrapped your arm around Jinyoungs, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You gave him a smile and the two of you walked towards the entrance of the building slowly as you waved to the cameras and press greeting the two of you. The cameras were close to blinding, but you pulled through until reaching the entrance where the bodyguard escorted the two of you to your spaces in the main hall.

The building was full of white and gold decorations. You could definitely tell that the theme was highly influenced by Greek culture. The budget of the awards keep growing as the number of sponsors increase. The bodyguard escorted you to the table that Beck was already sat at with his fiancé. Beck realised your presence as well as Jinyoung. He stood up to give you a hug and shook Jinyoung’s hand. Beck’s fiancé shook both of your hands too and took your seats.

“The famous Mr Park. It’s nice to meet you in person. I’m Beck, the other shareholder.” Beck gave Jinyoung a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet you to Beck. It seems like you already know of my name, but I’ll reiterate for the norm. My name is Park Jinyoung, you can call me just Jinyoung.” You let out a scoff because of how formal Jinyoung was being with Beck.

“He’s younger than you so you can ignore the formalities.” You said to Jinyoung and then Beck and him opened the conversation about age and their Chinese zodiac signs.

The evening began at 7:30 pm with the award winners due to be announced at 9:00 pm. Until then there was butterflies in your stomach ready to be set free any minute now.

Jinyoung came closer to your ear and whispered, “Loosen up a little. There’s no need to be this tense. Here hold my hand.”

Jinyoung offered his hand and you took it immediately as he gestured his open palm. Your hands were tiny compared to his manly hands. They encompassed all your digits giving you’re a sigh of relief because of the security they exerted. You let out a large sigh and continued with the discussions on your table with the new clients that were interested in your company. Having Jinyoung at the event really helped scare away the useless men who would only be interested in your physique and nothing more. His presence filtered out all the nonsense that would usually be taking place at the table.

The clock finally struck 9:00 pm and everyone went back to their designated seats in order for the awards to be presented. The event holder went through all the minor rookie awards to then move onto the company categories.

“Here are the nominees for Best Project of the Year.” The event holder signalled to the larger screen behind him as the nominees including your company are mentioned in no specific order.

“I was personally really fond of this project myself too. The meaning behind the design and the immense detail put into the façade really makes me excited for the future of this company. I’ll stop blabbing on and open the envelope.” You looked at Beck and then back at Jinyoung who was really eager to know the result.

“The award for Best Project of the Year goes to…” The event holder lifts the flap of the envelope and takes out the white sheet of paper inside. You hold your breath waiting for the result to be spoken.

“The Chamberlain project, designed and constructed by Chevrel Architects.” The whole community around your table started roaring and cheering for you and Beck to claim the award. That was one award written down in the books for Chevrel Architects, a company you and Beck had started years back. You and Beck had decided that if this award was given to you guys then he’d give the speech for it. Beck was the reason for the Chamberlain project happening and hands down you could state it was because of him the project turned out well. You, Jinyoung and everyone else in the hall stood up clapping as Beck walked up to the stage and shook hands with the event holder along with receiving the award. He then walked up to the mic and started his speech.

“I’d like to first start off with a large thank you to everyone at Chevrel Architects. The amount of hard work that was put into the Chamberlain project is indescribable, without everyone’s help it wouldn’t have been possible to achieve such a great outcome. I’d like to also thank Y/N for coming on this journey with me and trusting in me when I said that this company will create its own legacy. This is only the beginning…” Beck continued to thank more or less everyone he knew and came to an end with another roaring applause by everyone.

He jogged back to your table and you admired the award he placed on the table. You felt Jinyoung squeeze your hand in encouragement for you to realise how much you guys are capable of although he still knew you were a little iffy because the individual architect awards hadn’t been announced yet. You couldn’t help but smile at the gleaming object right before your eyes. Having received this award you doubted that another award would be given to someone of the same company.

Minutes went by and the event holder had reached the most awaited award of the night. Architect of the Year. You were surprised that you hadn’t left to use the restroom to throw up all this anxiety already. You were so ready to go home and relax. You wanted your normal heart rate back. You looked at Jinyoung and he gave you a look that melted your heart in seconds. He started massaging your knuckles with his thumb again and you could feel your body ease into his touch. The event holder for the last time of the night directs our attention to the screen for the listing of the nominees. Beck unfortunately wasn’t nominated so he was rooting for you to win the award.

“I know for many of you this is probably the most important part of the night. I’d like to first mention that to be able to be nominated for this award is ana achievement in itself so, you architects should all be proud of yourselves. It was a very hard decision that the committee made but we were able to make a decision. The award for Architect of the Year goes to…”

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I think it was mean of me to have ended this episode here, but it is 2:30 am right now as I write this episode. I hope you guys liked this episode. I shall be back somewhat soon so make sure to come back to check if an episode has been uploaded. Like always let me know your opinions on the story line and check out the other episodes if you haven’t. It would be nice to get some feedback :)

See you next time

writer-nim x

[queenmaracasandlove]

Love Of  My Life Series - Joe Mazzello x F!Reader - How They Met

Word Count: 2400

Summary: Y/N works on a new Netflix project with Joe Mazzello but is deeply annoyed by him.

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

A/N: The ‘Love Of My Life Series’ will be a series of short One Shots featuring members of the BohRhap Cast x Reader. Although you will be able to read them indepedently, they will all follow the ‘same couple’ if that makes sense. They are not aimed at being very long and I will try to post one a week at least ! Hope you enjoy it. 

MASTERLIST

It was her first important job and the last thing she wanted was for the experience to be ruined by a stupid fellow actor. Working for Netflix was quite a big deal. If the show was successful it would be a big step in her career and she knew it. Unfortunately someone was particularly getting on her nerves, Joe Mazzello. Unlike her he was used to big productions and had been in the business for so long. But to her, he just acted as if  he was somehow entitled to take more space than the others. He loved to have a laugh between takes when all that she wanted was to go over her lines and notes before the camera started rolling again. 

She did not have a lot of scenes together in the episode that they were filming and still, she always found herself at hair and makeup as the same time as him and even though he needed much less work than she did, they often finished at the same time. She thought it was mainly because he was always joking around and that made her even more upset. To be completely honest she were also a little jealous of the way he was able to seem so at ease with everything, so relaxed. She wished she felt the same but unfortunately it was not the case right now and all she wanted was some peace. 

‘Could you please turn the music down?’ she asked

‘Excuse me. Did you just talked to me?’ He joked, looking at you

She frowned, what was he playing at again? She was definitely not in the mood. She did not want to be rude but the music was preventing her from focusing on the script. Usually he played stuff that she did not know but today it was like he was playing all her favourite songs and she could not help but singing all the songs in her head. 

‘Yes, sorry. I was just wondering if you could…’

‘You don’t like it?’ he asked, before you could even finish your sentence

‘No it’s just… I’m trying to…’

‘Learn your lines. Come on Y/N, I’m starting to wonder if you are not learning all the roles just in case.’

She pinched her lips. She was just doing her job, there was nothing wrong with it. She had worked so hard for this and she was completely terrified. 

‘Sorry Y/N I was just…’ he started

‘Joking’ she said, being the one finishing the sentence this time, ‘Yes I know. I’ve realised you did that a lot’

‘Do you have a problem with me?’ he asked. He did not seem angry, mostly saddened. 

‘No’ she simply answered

‘Great. So happy we could talk’

That was the end of the exchange and he came out of the caravan before her. After this they rarely were in the same place at the same time. Days passed and things felt a little better. She always needed time to adapt but mostly to trust herself with what she were doing. She always felt out of place and not good enough. But time was the greatest helper and the good comments from the team had lightened Sher mood. She was more comfortable with her character and everybody who was working on the project. Everybody except Joe. He did not annoy her half as much as he did at first. In fact, he was just quite cold with you.

To be honest she knew it was your fault. She had not been the nicest to him. Over the last weeks she had paid more attention to him, not only to things that had annoyed her at first but to the rest. She was actually quite impressed with his acting and could see he was very into it, she also noticed how he was deeply interested in the directing aspect of it. And she had to admit, some of his jokes were not as bad as she might have thought. But it was too late now, he rarely even looked at her when she was not in the same scene and barely ever talked to her. 

Tonight was one of the cast member’s birthday and they all had been invited. She thought that it would be the perfect occasion to relax even more and enjoy the experience while she could, maybe even apologize to Joe. She was never good at knowing what to wear but she had picked one of your favourite dress, a little sexy and very pretty, the type that made her feel empowered. She hoped that her feet would manage the high heels for the night and got off the taxi that had arrived in front of the restaurant. Her eyes looked for some of your colleagues but she quickly realised that she was early, as per usual. 

She went towards the bar and ordered a drink. As she was getting yourself on one of the stool, she looked at the door to see Joe coming in. She gave him a timid smile as he was looking in her direction. He seemed to hesitate but eventually made his way towards her. He did not seem especially pleased to see her and her gaze focused back on her drink. 

‘Hi Y/N’ his cold voice uttered

‘Good Evening Joe’ she answered, trying to sound as warm as possible

He ordered a drink and for what seemed to be eternity there was an awkward silence between the two of them. She was thinking about what to say, how to apologize about the other day, say something nice or find a completely neutral subject. But before she could open her mouth, a group of people entered the restaurant and shouted both of their names. She had been saved from this uneasiness. 

------------

The party was great. The meal was delicious and the drinks numerous. Presents had been opened and it was now time to dance. She felt really good and the inhibition had been replaced by confidence, due in part, to intoxication. She  laughed as her and her colleagues were moving on some of the best 80s tracks, her favourite type of music to dance to. Joe was dancing across the dancefloor and she could see that he was looking at her from time to time. She walked in his direction and extended her arm, an invitation to dance with her and maybe a peace offering.

He grabbed her hand and her body suddenly felt even warmer than it already was. His eyes were still fixed on her. She started dancing again and he followed her. Finally he started to smile and she relaxed a little bit. She did not what to say, maybe her gesture would be enough for him to understand that she was sorry. She was not great with words, but he probably had figured that out already. She tried to smile as he was starting to be goofy again. His dance moves were, interesting to say the least. 

‘Can I offer you a drink?’ 

The tip of his nose brushed her ear as he came closer to deliver those words. She shivered and agreed. They both walked towards the bar where the music was not as loud. They were both short of breath after the dancing. He ordered the drinks without even looking at Y/N. She was surprised to see that he had chosen your favourite drink. 

‘How did you know?’ she asked

‘You drank the same thing all night’ he smiled

‘Are you stalking me or something?’

She had said that in a tone that was much more reproachful that what she intended. A frown replaced the smile on his face and she felt stupid all over again. Before she could say anything he grabbed his fresh drink and walked back towards the others. 

‘Joe! Wait!’ she called him

‘What Y/N? What have I done wrong this time?’

‘Nothing… I just wanted to say sorry. I know I’ve behaved like a selfish brat’

He looked at her, surprised. She was kind of expecting an answer but nothing came, making the moment even more awkward than it already was. At first she felt like she was about to apologize even more before she noticed how he was trying to repress a smile.

‘Are you enjoying this?’ she asked

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about Y/N.’ He said with a smile testifying of the contrary ‘But apology accepted.’ 

‘Good’ she sharply said

‘I feel like I should apologize for always upsetting you but it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose’ he said playfully 

She did not how to react. It was not so much that he was upsetting her but the way he always unsettled her. He was standing right here, probably waiting for an answer. Clearly, she was not the kind of person who liked to lose an argument and he seemed to know it. 

‘You are not upsetting me’ you tried, not very convincing

‘Really. Why are you giving me the silent treatment everytime you see me?’ 

‘As if you had not been avoiding me !’ she retorted

‘What do you mean?’ he asked with confidence

‘Since I asked you turn the music down you always stand on the opposite side of the room or go somewhere else or…’

‘How did you notice? Are you stalking me?’

She rolled her eyes. He was clearly teasing her and yet…

‘What do you mean I noticed?’ she realised ‘So you were doing it on purpose. I was right’

‘Y/N…’ he softly said ‘For someone who always wants to be attentive to every detail, you are not very perceptive’

‘So you just did so to annoy me?’

‘Not really’ he sighed

‘Then what?’

‘Let’s talk about it when you’re less drunk alright. Your clearly too intoxicated if you’re not able to understand what I am trying to say’ he reckoned

And because she thought he was probably right, she followed him as he was joining the others. For the first time in a while she did not try to have the last word.

---------

She had spent the whole Sunday in her room, trying to get over the massive headache that alcohol had left her with. She only vaguely remembered what had happened after her fourth cocktails. While reading her script for the following day, she had noticed that she would be sharing a scene with Joe. She knew that she had apologised but the end of the exchange was a blur although you did not if this was caused by the alcohol or the lack of comprehension of what he was trying to say. 

She had thought about him most of the day. Sometimes she found herself thinking that although his dance moves were not always great, he knew how to move. She also thought about how a simple white shirt looked great on him. How he was always teasing her but was never mean. She had arrived early on set and could not help but be saddened by the fact that he was not in the hair and make-up caravan with her. She almost regretted putting on the playlist that she had made (yes,she had made a playlist while fighting the urge to sleep the previous afternoon) with the songs she remembered him sing when they were both getting ready a few weeks ago. It now felt suddenly ridiculous but as she was grabbing her phone she saw him getting inside. 

‘Morning everybody’ he simply said

Everybody answered and he almost did not look at her. It seemed stupid to her but Y/N felt a little hurt by this behaviour. She almost said something but he seemed to be captivated by something on his phone so she decided let it go. It was time to go on set and she found herself looking in Joe’s direction very often. They were playing in the same scene but everytime the director said cut he would be doing something on his own, looking at the script or his phone. Without realising she was talking louder than usual, asking questions in the open so maybe he would hear her. But at the end of the day he still had not talked to her. 

She was now worried and felt completely stupid. She was supposed to focus on work and not on some dumb guy who was teasing her all the time. As she was on the way to the caravan that she was sharing she suddenly froze and started walking in the opposite direction. She was more determined than ever. She kept reading all the names on the caravan’s doors before finding the one she was looking for. She knocked with determination and waited for an answer but nobody came. She looked at the window and saw that there was light inside. 

‘Joe. Are you here?’ you asked ‘Please, it’s Y/N’

A few minutes later he opened the door and all her confidence disappeared as quickly as it had came. He looked at her  and started smirking and she instantly knew that she was right. 

‘You were trying to impress me’ she said

Everything she had done today, the music, the loudliness, the urge to talk to him, it was exactly how he had behaved with her before she finally made him stop. But now she wished she hadn’t.

‘That might be a little strong. Let’s say I was trying to get your attention’ he admitted

She would usually have felt happy because she had found the answer, she had had the last word. But something in her stomach still felt weird. But it was not anxiety or anger, it was something different. 

‘But why?’ she said 

‘Why did you try to get my attention all day?’ he enquired, leaning on the ‘you’

She looked down and bit her lips before her gaze crossed his again. And she smiled. She did not know why Joe Mazzello would be interested in her but she definitely was not able to say he annoyed him anymore, on the contrary. And for the second time since she had met him she did not know what to say and was left voiceless. 

‘Are you free tonight?’

[bmaxwell]

Number 1: Darkest Dungeon

Ruin...has come to our family.

Every so often a game comes along that feels like it was made specifically for you. So it was with Darkest Dungeon. First off, the game’s art style is breathtaking, I’d never seen a game look quite like it. The heavy shading on the characters gives everyone a severe, mysterious look. The combat is turn-based, with the twist that skills and abilities are based on where the characters are standing in a formation. It invokes HP Lovecraft* and makes the emotional stresses of being sent into dangerous places to battle horrors and abominations into a gameplay mechanism. The music is great. There’s a cool, spooky narrator. There are a bunch of different classes, and a town hub to upgrade. Darkest Dungeon ticks...all of my boxes? Almost. Make the adventurers high schoolers who attend classes, form social bonds, and manage relationships during the day before fighting monsters at night and you’d have it. 

I’ve played several hundred hours of Darkest Dungeon, and I still rarely skip the intro video when I launch the game. 

The first time I saw the above video, I was immediately reminded of two things:

- Eternal Darkness, a Gameube game about exploring mansion of your recently-deceased uncle and discovering an evil book that has been passed down through the generations.

- Lurker at the Threshold, which was my first HP Lovecraft story.**

This is my kind of horror. I dislike blood and guts slasher horror, but I love cosmic horror. This is very difficult for most games to capture, a lot of Lovecraft-inspired games tend to be about fighting tentacle monsters with tommy guns. And Darkest Dungeon is about fighting cool scary monsters, but Red Hook implemented a system in which your characters will have to deal with the psychological toll that living through life-threatening encounters with unspeakable horrors would take on a person. 

It’s easy to boil this down to just another meter to manage. “Oh, this monster monster used an ability which inflicted 6 points of stress on my Crusader, he is only 13 stress points away from his limit.” Most games can be boiled down to their mathematical skeletons. This is where the game’s incredible writing, art direction, and voice acting come through. Combat actions are often accompanied by a line of dialogue written over a character’s head and/or a line from the narrator (the excellent Wayne June). 

For example, you encounter an enemy called a Madman - a fairly disturbed fellow in a loose straightjacket. One of his attacks his one of your party members, inflicting stress and a debuff. How this looks in practice is like this: this dude in an unbuckled straight jacket who has been holding his head in his hands suddenly points and screams something muffled with one hand over his mouth. One of your party member’s screams “I-I don’t want to die here!” and the narrator says “Gasping...reeling...taken over the edge into madness!” The imagination doesn’t have to wander far to picture this distraught man suddenly pointing at you and screaming something he can’t possibly know about you. This marriage of theme and mechanisms is something that makes video games special. 

As someone who has always enjoyed the math puzzle-like nature of turn-based combat, Darkest Dungeon managed to somehow feel both familiar and innovative. Having combatants lined up from left to right seems like such a simple thing, but it brings into a play a whole layer of strategic considerations. There are abilities that can only be used from certain positions, or can only hit specific ranks on the enemy side; there are abilities that push and pull, that lunge forward or fall back. On any given delve, you are choosing a party of four from 17 classes, each of which has an assortment of abilities to choose from. Early in the game you can kind of get by with whatever party you choose, but as the difficulty ramps up you have to really think about your party makeup before setting out.

Darkest Dungeon’s late game features a fairly brutal difficulty spike. Most of my plays of the game are me having a laid back good time with the game until I get my ass handed to me in a few Champion dungeons, then putting the game down for months before starting a new save. This understandably turns a lot of players away from the game. Shit can go wrong in a hurry. Shit WILL go wrong in a hurry. If the enemies focus on a specific character and/or get a couple of critical hits in succession, you can lose party members permanently, and those setbacks can be deflating. You can’t avoid bad luck, but you can mitigate it and plan for it. And overcoming an “unfair” challenge is exhilarating. 

One of the things the game does brilliantly is give you those hopeless situations and occasionally offer a beacon of hope. This is by way of the game’s stress and affliction mechanism. When a hero’s stress level reaches 100, they will either become afflicted with a negative trait such as Paranoid or Abusive, or they will become virtuous, gaining a trait such as Stalwart or Focused. This seems to be tilted in favor of affliction about 70/30. Either way, this event is accompanied by a line of text from the character, and a callout by the narrator. 

In the case of an affliction, things go from bad to worse. Characters will change positions on their own (a fearful character will move back in the formation, or a masochistic one might move toward the front) or skip their turn altogether (if they’re hopeless). Afflicted characters will stress the rest of the party out as well whether it’s by being mopey, or verbally abusive - a paranoid arbalest who misses a shot will say “WHICH ONE OF YOU BUMPED MY ARM!?” and so on. On the other hand, sometimes when hope seems lost a character will become virtuous. They will shout encouragement, grant buffs and healing and the such. 

The game’s other big source of drama comes from its death’s door mechanism. When a character reaches zero health, they do not die. Instead they are in a state called death’s door, which means that any damage they take while at zero health could kill them. This leads to every attack being accompanied by held breath and a tightly clenched asshole. The game’s design lends it so much personality and breeds so many memorable stories. 

As impressive as the game’s design is, it is matched by the game’s sound design. Stuart Chatwood did an incredible job with the score. The music is deeply unsettling, a low thrum while you make your way through poorly lit dungeons where traps lie in wait and horrors potentially lie around every corner. Distant howls and screams  help set the stage. The battles themselves are against pounding drums and upsettingly realistic sounds of blows landing and gasps and chokes. 

Wayne June’s contribution as the narrator cannot be overstated. He is the heart and soul of Darkest Dungeon. Hs voicework captures the game’s dark humor, hope, despair, triumph and everything between. I cannot envision this game without him, and was thrilled to learn that he has signed on for Darkest Dungeon II.

It’s a game of long odds, despair, determination, and triumph. As someone who lives with depression, the game probably means more to me and hits me differently than most. The idea of throwing yourself headlong into a situation that seems hopeless, falling into despair, then getting back up and going again means something to me. The game brought tears to my eyes the first time, when a hero hit their stress limit and became Stalwart rather than afflicted, I heard Wayne June deliver the line “Many fall in the face of chaos. But not this one. Not today.” 

Darkest Dungeon isn’t the best game ever made by any metric, but it’s my favorite. 

*I’ve managed to make peace with enjoying Lovecraft’s fiction while being aware of what a racist, xenophobic shit stain he was

**Technically more August Derleth than HP Lovecraft I know.

[iturbide]

One of the things that upsets me about 3h’s writing is the existence of Edelgard’s siblings is actually dubious. She said she only became heir because all her other siblings were dead or insane. She wasn’t the heir or the spare yet no one else talks about her siblings. When an heir disappears, people talk. And it’s not like all the kids were the same age, there would’ve been several pregnancies. The only proof the kids exist is because Edelgard said it and she’s not above lying to others.

Okay, I have seen that theory before, and for as much as I take issue with Edelgard, I personally think that theory is complete bullshit.

[[MORE]]

Edelgard is a woman of remarkable composure.  Even before the timeskip, she is very cool, very guarded, showing minimal emotion (most of which seems to be for show, providing the expected response for the benefit of those around her).  There are only a handful of occasions where we see her slip, see her truly and deeply shaken -- and one of those times is associated with her speaking about her family.  I’m not going to deny that Edelgard is a very capable liar, but she was very obviously disturbed by the dream that brought on the conversation, and I don’t think even she could cobble together a lie that fast under those circumstances.

Also, let’s talk for a moment about just how Edelgard lies.  Her lies are primarily comprised of minor changes to information (”The Church used forbidden magic to destroy Arianrhod” only replaces the perpetrator, not the details), denials of knowledge (she says she has no knowledge of where Flayn is when she does), or omission of information (not telling Byleth that she’s the Flame Emperor despite having several opportunities to do so).  She’s not stupid: lies fabricated whole-cloth require careful construction, often require the same amount of repetition and practice a trained actor would require for a stage role, and in general are really hard to maintain.  Tailoring a lie from truth is much easier and caries significantly less risk.  Under the circumstances, I don’t think Edelgard could have concocted such a lie, and especially not such a powerful one.

It’s also worth mentioning that Lysithea describes an almost identical series of events taking place in Ordelia territory after House Hrym’s revolt:

Eighteen years ago, House Ordelia was involved in a civil conflict within the Empire. All we did was respond to a call for aid. We weren't involved politically. But once the rebellion was crushed, my family was held responsible for the aid we gave, and the Empire gained some sway over us as a result. At the time, the noble houses of the Alliance took a passive stance. No one lent aid to my family. As a result, some key officials within the family were killed, and people from the Empire were sent to replace them. Among those people were some mysterious mages. They were...unsettling, in a word. Skin pale as death. One after another, they captured and imprisoned the children of our household. They began performing terrible rituals on the children... Though it's probably more accurate to call them experiments.

With the Empire monitoring our every move, my parents could do nothing but watch in horror as all of this unfolded. One after another, the children died, until the only one left...was me. You know, my hair wasn't always this color. During their experiments, they'd been doing things with my blood. One morning, I awoke like this — a shock of white hair, all trace of pigment, gone.  Upon seeing me, the mages were delighted. They realized that their experiments had finally succeeded. Sure enough, they ran a test and saw that two Crests coexisted within me. Losing pigment from my hair wasn't the only loss. The mages informed me that my lifespan was now greatly shortened. Five more years at most. Perhaps less.

Shortly thereafter, the mages lost interest in me, and we never saw them in the Ordelia household again.

This is pretty much exactly what happened to Edelgard: young members of the household taken captive and experimented on by a mysterious group of masked mages, no aid from outside, parents forced to bear witness as their children died en masse.  Nobody calls bullshit on Lysithea’s story -- so why are people trying to call Edelgard a liar?  Lysithea and Edelgard’s B support doesn’t unlock until after Byleth makes the choice to side with Edelgard, and their C support makes no mention at all of the experiments, so Edelgard couldn’t have learned it from Lysithea and used it for herself.  The experiments on House Ordelia were the precursor to the experiments in Adrestia, and their loss of interest very likely ties in with them moving on to bigger things -- namely the Imperial lineage and their attempts to imbue the Crest of Flames within a Hresvelg heir.

And this ties into the next point: why nobody talks about it.  And that boils down to propaganda.

Propaganda relies very heavily on control of information.  And empires in general have an ongoing propaganda campaign related to their ruling families: that these are immensely powerful people blessed by gods, goddesses, saints, what have you, and ruling by divine right.  This is especially true in the Empire, where their imperial lineage traces its roots back to Wilhelm von Hresvelg, who forged a pact with Seiros.  Now, in the Empire, an absolute premium is placed on the presence of a Crest -- to the detriment of all else, including human life.  Hanneman’s sister lost her life and Mercedes’ family was ripped apart all because of the extreme Crest bias present in the Imperial territories.  But with Ionius, there was an even bigger issue: his ‘Divine Right to Rule’ is intrinsically linked to the Crest of Seiros, the physical proof of his bloodline’s pact with the Saint. 

And that bloodline is fading fast.

In Edelgard’s B+ support with Byleth, she says this:

My siblings and I were...we were imprisoned underground, beneath the palace.  The objective was to endow our bodies with the power of a Major Crest.  I have always possessed the Crest of Seiros, inherited through the Hresvelg bloodline.  But it was only a Minor Crest, and most of my siblings bore no Crest at all.  In order to create a peerless emperor to rule Fódlan, they violated our bodies by cutting open our very flesh.  Now here I stand, the fruit of that endeavor: Edelgard von Hresvelg! But that came at too high a price...the others were sacrificed.  Ours weren’t the only lives devastated by that terrible process.  Innocents died as well, without even knowing what they were dying for.  And there you have it, the truth of the Hresvelg’s Empire. 

Out of eleven children Ionius IX sired, only a few bore any kind of Crest (and we don’t know if they were even the Crest of Seiros).  The fact that Edelgard’s Crest was a Minor one rather than a Major one also seems to have been a point of contention.  Which makes sense: in a territory that relies so heavily on Crests as signs of legitimacy, having a Crest appear so infrequently in the Emperor’s progeny would be a frankly alarming sign of weakness.  So I would not be at all surprised if Ionius had been carefully controlling the information moving from the Imperial household to the wider Empire...such that they didn’t know how many kids he really had. 

Unlike the Kingdom, where Lambert only had one wife at any given time and whose pregnancies would therefore be talk of the Kingdom since she’s a public figure, the Empire allows (and perhaps even encourages) the use of consorts.  And immediately after being crowned, Ionius started seeking out suitable ones -- but their identities were not required to be public knowledge.  Sure, the wider Imperial household would have been aware, and it’s likely that the heads of some major noble houses with a presence in the palace knew, as well -- though even they may have been tight-lipped about it with their families to control the spread of information (and this has in-game precedence, given that Ferdinand von Aegir has no idea what happened with Hrym or why people hate his dad so much).  But the only Empire-wide announcements came with the birth of children who actually possessed Crests.  And even then, it’s entirely likely that Edelgard’s place in the line of succession might have been superseded had one of her younger siblings borne a Major Crest of Seiros.

(If this seems far-fetched, I think Alexei Romanov makes a striking point of comparison here: the youngest child and only son of the Romanov Dynasty, he was set to become the next Tsar of Russia -- because his hemophilia was a closely guarded state secret.  It might be common knowledge now, but the Russian public had no idea what was really wrong with him.)

Now, we don’t know a lot of details for this particular time period.  We know Edelgard had ten siblings, but we don’t know if Ionius kept trying to sire heirs and had no success (issues with impotency, miscarriages, etc) or stopped trying and took a different tack.  What we do know is that he instigated a series of reforms meant to concentrate the Emperor’s power.  We don’t know why he did it, but it’s entirely possible that he was trying to look out for his kids and pave the way for more radical reforms that would do away with the Crest bias as a form of choosing ‘legitimate’ heirs to the throne.  But whatever his plan might have been, it backfired terribly on him and led to the Insurrection of the Seven, where the Emperor was stripped of all power and his kids were subjected to Twisted experiments, likely initiated when they replaced Lord Arundel and had him float the idea to Duke Aegir -- and once again, that control of information even within families is out in force, because the nobles now controlling the empire probably don’t want it to be common knowledge that they’re committing atrocities for the sake of making a perfect figurehead.

In the end, every one of Edelgard’s siblings died.  And because the people of the Empire didn’t know about them?  She can’t even mourn them publicly.  The Empire has no inkling of the great tragedy that occurred within House Hresvelg, and that only further fuels the lone survivor’s desire to make sure that nothing like this can ever happen again.

[snarkeater]

Stretch goals

Tarn compares himself to Soundwave and finds himself lacking.

Alone in the tiny transport, Tarn sits forward, digits linked between his knees and optics staring straight ahead, like a good boy.  He was asked to take a seat and secure himself, but he hasn't bothered with the latter yet – mostly because, after giving him those directions, his escort left the vessel to go have a lengthy phone conversation on the tarmac a few hundred meters away.

It was fine when Tarn was waiting for a minute or two, but it's stretched to significantly longer than that and Tarn's patience is wearing thin.  It's definitely rude now, and it takes all the goodwill Tarn can muster not to take it as a personal slight.

Which, given the uncomfortable history there is between he and his escort, is not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Impatient, Tarn turns in his seat and looks out the back of the ship; through the open hatch, off in the distance and to the right, Soundwave's slight frame stands bolt still on the sprawling landing pad, his back turned.  From Tarn's angle, the composition of the image is almost artistic – and if he hadn't been sitting on his aft for what feels like an hour now, uselessly burning fuel, maybe the part of his brain that's able to appreciate the finer things in life wouldn't already be completely consumed by the cruder part of it that just wants this colossal waste of time to end—

Still in view, Soundwave casts a glance over his shoulder.  The motion catches the midday sun, and it reflects off his visor in a bright flash.

A coincidence, Tarn wonders, or...?

Erring on the side of caution, Tarn immediately reins in his enthusiasm and turns back around, optics narrowed.

There isn't – he'd freely admit to just about anyone if asked – a mech alive that unsettles him more than the one he's waiting on right now.  No one – absolutely no one, including the greatest among them – can peel away as many layers as Soundwave does with his presence alone and leave him feeling as critically exposed. And it's not just the simple (but deeply upsetting) fact that the mech can hear thoughts and, somehow, also emotions – no, it goes beyond that.  Far beyond.  There are additional, more complex factors in the mix that make Soundwave as emotionally corrosive as he is.

Old scabs that, as he sits and stares petulantly at the vacant pilot's seat in front of him, Tarn can't help but pick at.  It's always possible that his escort will hear, but he doesn't know for sure – he doesn't know how it works.  He can't know.  And it doesn't matter, anyway – it's not anything, Tarn figures with grim certainty, Soundwave doesn't already know.

The transport's engines have been running since Soundwave landed; on the consoles along the front, all the instruments show ready states, prepped for departure.  Tarn briefly eyes the compact navigation display, hoping to get a sense of where he's being taken – where, should Soundwave ever get off the phone, he'll be meeting Megatron.  Unsurprisingly, however, the small unit indicates a classified, pre-configured heading; at the sight of it, Tarn feels a sharp stab of irritation right between the eyes.

Of course.  Of course he can't know where he's headed – if he could know, his master would've just sent along his coordinates and instructed that Tarn meet him there.  Like he's done a thousand times before.  But this is different; Megatron doesn't owe Tarn anything with respect to his comings and goings, so what was Tarn expecting?

Looking away from the nav computer, Tarn contorts himself in his seat and turns, again, to direct ill will out the back hatch.

The earlier image remains the exact same: out on the tarmac, Soundwave hasn’t moved.

He's talking to him, Tarn's sure – to Megatron, their shared employer.  Nothing else makes sense.  He can't hear any of it and nor does he necessarily want or need to, but the longer it goes on the harder it gets for Tarn to resist the compulsion to fill in the gap with all manner of damning scenarios and fearful thoughts.  It's unnerving to not know, and to know that others – others who have power over you, even for a passing moment – know that you don't know.  It's awful to be the odd mech out—

And it's worse yet to know that no matter what you do to change it, that’s what you'll always be.

Looking at Soundwave now – a brittle, breakable thing a fraction of Tarn's size and appearing even smaller under the diminishing illusion cast upon him by perspective – Tarn is visited by the vivid memory of their first encounter.  Aware of Soundwave’s reputation but thinking them equals in their master's service, he assumed too much – and was promptly put in his place within a matter of klicks:

'You are a means to an end', Tarn remembers Soundwave telling him, cutting him off midway through a sentence that, in retrospect, probably shouldn't have come out of his mouth in the first place.

This was long ago; Tarn was admittedly less wise then.  And impudent. Granted, he could’ve comported himself better than he did that day, but even then…

Soundwave's words – how quickly and precisely they lanced the boil that Tarn hadn’t even, at the time, fully realized he’d developed in the dark recesses of his mind – stayed with him. Countless hours were spent in the years that followed fruitlessly trying to find fault in them, trying to uncover hidden motivations that might invalidate them or skew their meaning.

But painful as they were to hear, they weren’t technically wrong…

And so, try as he might to dismiss them or to take them in a different direction, Tarn’s never been successful at any of it – even now, in this very moment, as he desperately tries to hate Soundwave for any valid reason that might present itself, he can’t justify it.  None of it sticks.  All of his reasons, when he inspects them, are personal reasons at their root – ‘you problems’, Nickel would call them if he ever spoke to her about them, which he won’t – and everything else…

Well.  Everything else is whatever Soundwave chooses to give him:

Veiled facts.

Raw, lightly contextualized, deliberately selected, carefully articulated, and always consistently impossible to fully confirm or deny.

It’s absolutely maddening and – whether done with intent or not – it’s never once failed to put Tarn off-balance.  He and Soundwave are just…not the same kind of people, and he’s not sure they’ll – he’ll – ever be able to bridge the gap; but, all of that aside, the only thing that truly matters between them is the shared loyalty they hold in their sparks – and on that front, they see eye to eye.

Or, at least, Tarn thinks so.

Even if they sometimes use different words when expressing that loyalty: the Cause, freedom, peace, Megatron…

To Tarn, all of those things are synonymous—  

And surely, he assumes, Soundwave must feel the same.

So why can’t that be enough?

As if on cue, off in the distance, Soundwave finally lowers his arm and turns to face the ship, through with his call at last.

Relieved and anxious to get moving, Tarn whirls back around and begins securing himself as was earlier requested of him.  It only takes a couple seconds, and in the time it takes for Soundwave to reach the boarding ramp, a stray thought occurs to Tarn amidst those surrounding his upcoming meeting with Megatron; the notion is almost lost in the current, but, curious, Tarn fishes it up before it gets swept away:

Should he and Soundwave’s shared loyalty be enough for him?

Could he do better – more?

Optics focusing once more on the navigational computer and the classified destination marked there, Tarn feels the sharp stab between his eyes again.  A pointed jab reminding him of his place, and why it might be that he doesn’t know where he’ll be heading in a few moments and why it won’t be him occupying the pilot seat.

It’s because, clearly, loyalty wasn’t enough for their master.

Thank you to @distractables for sparking this.

[filmista]

80′s favorite: ‘The Breakfast Club’ (1985)

“… And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They’re quite aware of what they’re going through…” - David Bowie

Ah, the 80’s! An era of some awesome music (totally irrelevant but in case anyone wondered my ultimate 80’s guilty pleasure song is ‘The Final Countdown’, also anything 80’s Madonna. Confession actually I just plain love Madonna, there secret’s out! Although these days her on stage acrobatics, are starting to slightly unsettle me) And crimes against fashion and excellent teen films.

Teen films were such a popular genre at the time that they almost could have been regarded as an industry within the film industry. And the driving force and brain of it was arguably John Hughes, (‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’,‘ Pretty in Pink’, ‘Sixteen Candles’ etc).

Hughes made multiple successful films in the 80’s but the most famous and the one that’s to this day still the most beloved for its timeless and universal relevance is ‘The Breakfast Club’.

These days despite the fact that I’m now quite past the age it’s characters were it’s one of those films that’s always a blast to watch, time quite literally flies, and there’s always the temptation to simply restart the film.

Not to sound dramatic and all, but sometimes I wish I had seen it during some of the more difficult times I had in high school, it might have brought some comfort, there’s a comfort in knowing: other people are unhappy too and they too sometimes occasionally have pretended they aren’t.

Despite the fact that the film is not without its flaws, I love almost everything about it. From the David Bowie quote at the beginning ( which I still consider as deep and as relevant, I think it’s so unbelievably powerful):

“… And these children
 that you spit on
 as they try to change their worlds
 are immune to your consultations.
They’re quite aware 
of what they’re going through…”

To the Simple Mind’s ‘Don’t You forget about me’ playing in the ending scene as bad boy Bender raises his fist towards the sky. Even the switching between absurd or utterly brilliant dialogues, this is still one of my favorite dialogues in any film:

Vernon: What did you want to be when you were young?

Carl: When I was a kid, I wanted to be John Lennon.


Vernon: Carl, don’t be a goof. I’m trying to make a serious point here. I’ve been teaching, for twenty-two years, and each year, these kids get more and more arrogant.


Carl: Aw bullshit, man. Come on Vern, the kids haven’t changed, you have! You took a teaching position, ‘cause you thought it’d be fun, right? Thought you could have summer vacations off and then you found out it actually worked and that really bummed you out.


Vernon: These kids turned on me. They think I’m a big fuckin’ joke.


Carl: Come on…listen, Vern, if you were sixteen, what would you think of you, huh?


Vernon: Hey, Carl, you think I give one rat’s ass what these kids think of me?


Carl: Yes, I do.


Vernon: You think about this…when you get old, these kids; when I get old, they’re gonna be runnin’ the country.


Carl: Yeah?


Vernon: Now this is the thought that wakes me up in the middle of the night; that when I get older, these kids are gonna take care of me. Carl: I wouldn’t count on it.

This particular dialogue shows something very simple, yet often overlooked fact: some adults simply forget what it’s like to be in a teenager’s shoes, and therefore have forgotten all the angst and difficult times, they can’t empathize anymore.

The teenager in question feels misunderstood, and it’s likely to gather two responses, either they rebel and lash out, or they withdraw even more into their own world, and so the vicious circle of miscommunication between adults and young people is strengthened.

But to return to mentioning everything that I love about the film, I also love everybody’s cliche clothing style (Claire Standish, made me discover the frilly feminine with leather and boots look, which was a total phase I went through for a while) detention rarely looked that stylish and fun.

Honestly, this film made me wish we had detention in my high school here in Europe too, but I was always slightly too well behaved to have even landed myself there in the first place.

Twice in my high school career, I’ve had to stand in the hallway, for not so serious misdeeds, let’s say that my sometimes somewhat big mouth got me in trouble, both times haunted me for an entire afternoon…

Still ‘The Breakfast Club’ was for me one of those films that I knew a lot of people love but that had to grow on me a little, there was a straightforwardness, such a collection of bizarre situations and such a plethora of cliches, that the first time I couldn’t get over them as more flaws.

Of course it’s now safe to say that the first time I saw the film I criminally misunderstood it, as it’s all about using cliché characterization to make a statement: “we’re all different, but we’re not all so different after all” all of us share fears and anxieties of some kind. I don’t blindly love the film it’s got a fair share of flaws and stuff that I simply don’t like about it.

But I can completely overlook these now, it’s one of those films that you just have to let wash over you.

It has as I mentioned quite the lack of subtlety and cohesion at times, it throws logic out the old for its own benefit, (the disappearing principal, the effects of the joint that wear off almost immediately after smoking it?!)

It’s just an at times plain lack of realism, that if you got too cynical and allowed it could ruin your whole viewing of the film. ‘Breakfast Club’ is deceptively simple and straightforward, and it’s in this that it is so smart, it shows things as it is, it shows what’s under the surface of the psyche of plenty a teen.

It solves everything for us, you don’t have to pull back any layers with any of its characters, you don’t gradually discover what’s wrong with each, they literally all fairly early on start shoving their problems in our face, quite literally throw them out there. And that during my first few viewings of the film bothered me to no end; it seemed to me like an easy way to go and one that’s not daring in the least, because you don’t have to think deeply about it.

As time went on I came to see that as part of the film’s charm. ‘Breakfast Club’ can literally be as deep as you want it to be, depending on what mood you happen to be in that day.

It can be a film that you watch just for fun, and just because you happen to like its humour and its atmosphere, or it could be a film that sets you to thinking about deep stuff such as the societal norm and our self-awareness, how we perceive ourselves VS the performance some of us put up each day toward the outside world.

The beauty of the film is that it can be any of those things anytime you want; which is why I find that each viewing of the film can be an entirely different one.

And what initially bothered me about it I now see as endearing and pretty smart. The plot can basically be resumed as this: Wildly different people that don’t particularly like each other are forced to spend a day together.

They slowly discover that each of them is as human, as unique and as flawed as they, every person has a world of their own in their mind.

Underneath the stereotype each of them hides behind, they realize each of them has problems, emotions, and feelings. That each is far more complex than any definition that can oh so easily be put on a person.

Now I don’t know what they do in detention in America, if you do your homework, or if you’re punished by not being allowed to study.

But in ‘The Breakfast Club’ it’s an entire day of free therapy. It shows a simple yet even nowadays very often overlooked fact, life would be a lot easier and pleasant to navigate, if we from time to time could all just sit our butts down and talk to each other (I fervently believe in this).

Exchanging a “how are you” that could instead of being answered with “fine” while your world is going to shit be answered with a genuine “listen, not good at all” and here’s why.

That’s what I’ve always found redeeming about the film despite some of its flaws, the fact that it humanizes characters that are to this day in a lot of American films, just grossly stereotyped. In some of these films, it’s like they all walked out of the same clone machine, disturbing…

‘Breakfast Club’ states that our interests do perhaps define us to some degree; and that we all fit a certain type (I guess I’m the sleazy European, just joking). All of us are either “the film geek” “the film snob”, “the comic geek” or the guy who’s got a permanent residence at the gym and that it’s ok, because each of is an individual, we are not our interests, not entirely at least.

All this is what I’ve come to see in the film over the years, but it took me as I said a while to get there. But while it was a film that I saw many problems with, it was simply one of those films that for whatever reason sucked me in again and again. Simple because the film had something, it’s a something that to this day I still can’t exactly point out, it’s a unique quality in its atmosphere, that pulls you in so much that you forget your surroundings and feel as though you are in that classroom.

I think that something is the relatability of a rainy Saturday, you get up in the morning, and the whole day is still stretched out before you, the day is still rife with possibility. And even if it’s a rainy bleak day and even if that day is going to be spent indoors, it still lends itself towards almost anything.

It’s that same magical feeling you have as a kid during Summer holiday, The Breakfast Club for me has that same quality: no matter how bizarre, how unlikely it is possible in this film.

Or maybe it’s the dialogues that become absurd on occasion, and that doesn’t always feel like the way a 16 or 17 year would talk.

But that is actually delightful in their sometimes sheer absurdity, my absolute favorite line is probably: “Does Barry Manilow know you steal his clothes?” absolutely delightful…

And yet even if they at times get very absurd, there’s sometimes also just an absurdity to life, people do have hilarious conversations that make no sense to an outsider.

‘The Breakfast Club’ actually does a pretty good job of capturing that sheer funnies of life. It’s a laugh at your own misery in the company of others, sorta humor, sometimes sharing your fears with others and laughing about them, is all that it takes to see clearly and no longer be afraid, or at least less.

It’s like when you’ve been having a shit day, let’s say that a pigeon shat on your head or your shoulder, it’s not gonna be funny at the time, but more of than not you end up being able to laugh about it, after you’ve taken a good long shower and you’ve had a nice hot meal.

Initially like I’ve mentioned my biggest problem with the film was the illogicalness of the plot at times, like how the principal so conveniently disappears so that the kids can bond, it would have been more realistic had he given them more grief…

Or how as I said when they smoke a joint; the effects wear off when it’s convenient for the plot. The film does whatever the fuck it wants when it wants. Even if it becomes a bit unreal, surrealists even.

A character jumps over bookcases like he’s in the gym. But hey it was the 80’s, maybe Jane Fonda did that in her spare time “don’t worry honey, just gettin’ some exercise… But now I find that there’s a beauty to it just doing whatever it wants when it wants. It gives a sort of authentic, good-hearted charm.

A charm that some films that make sense at all times don’t always have, they’re almost too perfect at times.

But that’s the thing about ‘The Breakfast Club’ it makes sense while it’s not making sense. The director really used these so-called flaws or things that don’t make sense at the service of his plot, some call this lazy filmmaking but in this case, it works out. As I’ve been mentioning a few times throughout, the film isn’t without it’s flawed to this day Ally Sheedy’s transformation from weird artsy ugly duckling to a beautiful angel, bugs me.

I mean yeah the girl had bad hygiene and all but such a drastic shift in style wasn’t necessary either, a new haircut and just washing it occasionally might have helped.

And there are a few other things, but the ‘The Breakfast Club’s is just in the end one of those films that simply charms me and I forgive it’s flaws, because as cheesy as it sounds (give me a toilet to lean over) it’s got a nice message at its heart.

Acting wise I’ve heard a lot about the film over the years about the quality of the acting, I’ve heard people call it bad and some people say that all of the actors had never been better than they were in this film.

And that’s maybe to some degree true. Molly Ringwald was the director’s darling and did multiple projects alongside Hughes, but not much was heard of Ringwald after the 80’s, apparently, she does mainly Broadway now. It pleases me to know that she’s doing something still in line with acting.

What is an absolute fact is that pretty much all of the actors had their New York minute of fame in the 80’s and I suppose nowadays they’re in some kind of acting wasteland, or you only see them in really bad soaps and films that play at unholy hours, until late at night?

But I’ve personally always thought that even if the acting in it, isn’t entirely without flaws either, it swindles in quality on occasion.

I’ve always loved it, I love every single character and every performance. Though I’ve got my favorites, my favorite character is “the princess”, Claire Standish. I don’t see Molly Ringwald when I see her here but Claire, she’s just perfectly in character the entire times and is natural and convincing throughout.

She’ll always be one of my favorite popular, mean girls, she’s seemingly a spoiled brat that’s actually a sweetheart. the original “poor little rich girl” her parents give her everything, and yet the perfect picture is tainted.

Even she misses something and that’s real contact with her parents, real affection, after all, what good is a pair of diamond earrings when you can’t have a good talk. I love the chemistry between Ringwald and Nelson, there’s a very natural, very authentic feeling chemistry (I was much dismayed when I found out a long kiss between the two was taken out).

Visually ‘The Breakfast Club’ couldn’t be more 80’s everything ranging from the excellent music (gotta love The Simple Minds) to the so highly coiffed hair that it looks like it could catch fire, upon entering into contact with a flame, and the clothes scream the 80's…

Yet ‘The Breakfast Club’ unlike some films of the same time, some also made by the same man. Has a much calmer and tranquil atmosphere, as it does primarily focus on the conversations between the characters.

A lot of ‘The Breakfast Club’ is actually hilarious close-ups of faces and the expressions on them as they react to something. It’s something I like very much as it makes you feel less detached as a viewer, it creates a real intimacy between the characters and the audience, you feel transported into the room.

‘The Breakfast Club’ is a true 80’s classic, that has stayed contemporary. Every once in a while it still makes appearances on both European and American channels.

As I said the unique thing about it is that you can take it as seriously as you wish, it can become philosophical if you warm and it can be good fun, if nothing else. 

If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend doing so in hideous, flashy 80’s sportswear, usually to be found in an attic of an elderly family member, that keeps everything under the universal: “It’ll come back in fashion again” Adagio.

“Saturday, March 24, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062. Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides (Part 32)

Azula’s stomach writhes; spirits, he is so much like her father. He sounds like him. Good girl...she was always Ozai’s good girl. Her stomach  lurches twice over at the prospect of going back to her old room. Back to those hideous white walls and that barren space. She just hopes that Aang  and Zuko will do their parts as she had told them to.

The drug has yet to wear off, the hallway tilts and waves as she is carried down it. She is hard pressed to cling onto a coherent thought, mostly focused on keeping up her act. It isn’t exactly hard at the moment with her head so cloudy. And, by Agni, it is unsettling...outright anxiety inducing to be back within these walls.

He is still talking, babbling away about things that have no importance to her. Things about how stressful it had been when she’d left them. Bullshit about how they were ‘so’ worried. She will give them something to worry over soon enough.

Her head hurts, she thinks that she should have used a smaller dosage. For a change she resents her small stature, these drugs seem to hit her hard no matter how small the douse. The opening of the door is a grating sound.

“Can you leave the--”

He holds a finger to her lips. The effect of the drug has worn off just enough for a jab of annoyance to break through the haze.  “After the stunt you and the Avatar pulled? Not a chance.”

She figured as much, but she figured asking was worth a shot.

“Now, behave yourself and we can take you home and you can tell your brother how much success we’ve had. You might get a reward if I get my seat on the council.”

Azula’s brows furrow and she wonders exactly what the man’s game is. Is it all for some sick thrill? Is the man going for power? Riches? Is she simply a tool in that? “The council?”

He rolls his eyes. “I am going to be the Fire Lord’s advisor, so to speak.”

So he is looking to take his manipulations and mind control a step further…

He leads her to her bed and sits her down as though he doesn’t think she can do it herself. Sangyul is either tragically egotistic or he is a complete fool. Azula finds that these often go hand in hand. It certainly loosens his tongue well enough. There is a recklessness in thinking that one is unbeatable--a more deeply devastating undoing when that belief is breached. For a moment she once again blurs the line between herself and the man. She rubs her hands over her face. But she knows what it is to fall. She knows what it is to be unraveled into a devastating submission. To have the pieces shatter further as she tries to pick them up.

Sangyul thinks that he is untouchable.  He thinks that his work has been so thorough and devastating that there is no possibility that his victims might recover. And she is banking on that. How savory it will be to see his face when she stands over him, when he recognizes the return of strength and glory. She will leave him with no pieces to pick up at all, only a fine glassy powder that will do nothing but slip through the cracks between his fingers.

Were he a smart man, he would have ceased operation and went into hiding. She thinks that he might have thought himself clever  in returning to his first facility. Perhaps he is under the impression that Aang would assume that he wasn’t fool enough to go back there.

Perhaps he’d never left at all, perhaps hearing not a word from her or of her recovery has granted him the confidence to carry on as though nothing had happened at all. And she will work with that.

But first she has to wait for the drugs to run its course, wait for the room to stop spinning and her body to stop trembling. Spirits, it is a horrid feeling both physically and in knowing that she lacks control even when she has it.

Sangyul is chattering again but his voice fades in and out. She falls against the pillow. What if she had taken too much? What if they had given her the wrong drug? Oh spirits, what if she has just handed herself back to the man nearly as venerable as before.

“And just so we’re clear, the only reason you get to remain unbound is because you don’t have your bending. You aren’t particularly skilled without it. You aren’t a very bright one either.” He taps her head, looks into her foggy eyes.

His lack of self-awareness is a torture to be exposed to in itself.

She arranges her pillows and tries to make herself as comfortable as possible as the drug works its way out of her system. She only worries that she won’t be able to maintain the act once the drug wears off. She isn’t one to slur her speech…

.oOo.

“Are you okay, Aang?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like this, Zuko.”

“You’ve faced Azula down before. She’ll be fine.”

He’s faced her down time and time again, he has seen her prowess but he has seen her beaten down. He has beaten her down. And he knows how hard she falls when she finally does. “She has nightmares sometimes, Zuko. Sometimes she’ll see or hear something and it’s like…” he trails off what is it like? “It’s like she’s not here anymore. And she’s going to be surrounded by things that remind her of everything.”

“She’s not as fragile as you think.” Zuko promises and Aang hopes that he is right. “She’s the one in control, she’ll be fine as long as she has that.”

He tries not to think about what Sangyul may or may not have done to her already. Plan or none, it was nauseating to watch him drag her back into this place. “But what if he takes it from her.”

Zuko chuckles, “well that’s the thing, Aang, he isn’t going to try to take control from her because he thinks that he already has. She knows that.”

Aang takes a deep breath, Zuko is probably right. Right now he needs to focus on his part. While Sangyul pokes at and taunts Azula--he cringes again--they will be sneaking around to find and steal research notes and burn away the spirit vines so that they can’t be abused so readily.

Mostly they are there for back up, to step in if Azula finds that she has gotten in over her head. Though she has made it so abundantly clear that they shouldn’t have to, that she can handle herself. Raava’s tendrils, she was so adamant that she can do things on her own. It is almost painful to think that she thought she had to prove it to him. He knows that she is capable. She can do this. He relaxes if only a little.

“Are these the vines?” Zuko gestures.

“Those are the dead ones. They aren’t shimmering.”

Zuko walks away from the waste bin. “This place is...haunting.”

“Cold too.” Aang comments. He sees it on Zuko’s face that the man might be truly starting to understand why Azula has been so unapologetically furious about her stay here. “This is his office.” He struggles with the lock before Zuko ultimately opts to bust it. Aang flinches at the resounding clatter.

They slip into the darkness of the room and rummage through scroll after scroll; mostly data logs and records of who works and when. Aang wonders if the man either clings to his research notes at all times or if they are in the room where they work with the vines.

“Wh-what the hell?” Zuko asks suddenly. Aang hears the rustle of pages.

“What?”

He skims the files again. “He used to be a Dai Li agent. He wrote that he was exposed to the benefits of brainwashing. That Long Feng did something like this to him…”

“So what!” Aang cringes at his own, less than stealthy outburst. “Are we supposed to feel bad for him? If anything, he should know just how wrong what he’s doing is…”

“That’s not the disturbing part, Aang?”

“Then what is?”

“Apparently he figured out how to use the vines himself by watching you and listening to you talk about what it’s like to energy bend. He wants to use this kind of mind control to usurp me without taking the throne at all.”

“What does Azula have to do with any of this? Was he trying to send you a message?”

“That’s the disturbing part, Aang. She’s not part of his plan at all. He could have taken anyone after you helped her escape. He just…” he furrows his brows. “He liked being in control of someone powerful. He just liked seeing her uncomfortable and vulnerable. He finds it entertaining.”

Aang’s stomach squirms.

“He doesn’t need her back, he just wants her. According to the journal it sounds like he hadn’t even thought to use the vines to grab for power until after she fled, it’s like a side mission. I don’t know if he’s actually interested in it at all really. Especially now that he has Azula back.”

Spirits, what have they allowed her to walk back into. Whether she has control or not, he doesn’t think that she has ever tried to unravel a plan with no rationale . Tired to take down a man with no mission. A man whose sole mission is to antagonize and break her just for the sake of watching her weaken. “Zuko, we have to get her out of here.”

[ahmiyahstanton97]

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Does 98 Octane Last Longer

You can even rub off on your woman are ready.Premature Ejaculation for some great books to stop premature ejaculation.On the contrary, it is possible to prevent early ejaculation.Although this condition is most likely preventing you from lasting long enough to satisfy your girl.Naturally, they also have very sensitive area because said injuries can also be successfully treated - if the problem of premature ejaculation pills which may be resumed.

Knowing what specific options are available.It is not a disease and this easily translates into greater physical enjoyment.Yes... it's true, premature ejaculation happens fractions of seconds after penetration, you can use your tongue and your partner sexually because you have sex.All you need to determine the time and give your woman warm up.It may be very careful not to ejaculate too soon before their partner and you will need to improve ejaculation distance.

[lelou-quotes]

Why are narcissists so hateful?

Well…… you asked for it….. now have fun:

50 Devious Habits Of Highly Toxic Narcissists (And Why They Do What They Do) Shahida Arabi

1. They criticize to nitpick and demean you, not to empower you. Highly toxic people don’t give constructive criticism as a way to help you – they throw nuggets of disdain rather than wisdom your way in order to make you double your efforts to please them. They stage personal attacks on your character or develop a hyperfocus on irrelevant things, sometimes even fabricated flaws, to evoke insecurity in you.

2. They give unsolicited advice, especially in situations where it is inappropriate to do so or about matters you’ve made clear are none of their business. Giving unsolicited advice enables a toxic person to feel in control and smug. Most of their unsolicited advice is usually not even helpful, and is doled out as a way to distract you from your progress.

3. They enjoy raining on your parade. Toxic people like bringing little tempests of debasing comments whenever they see you’re that you’re proud of yourself or feeling especially happy. It’s usually because they’re envious.

4. They frequently play devil’s advocate especially when it’s unnecessary.They tend to do this with regards to issues that are deeply personal to you and touch on your core values, belief systems, life experiences and moral codes. For example, a highly toxic person might try to dismiss a trauma you’ve gone through by arguing that it’s not really a trauma at all. They may get into useless discussions about whether everyone should have equal rights and whether proven facts are truly legitimate. This is not done with the intention of adding to the discussion, but to provoke you and warp your sense of security about your perspectives.

5. They copy your mannerisms, your work, your behavior, anything they covet. In this context, imitation is not the highest form of flattery, because they do it so often you feel like a part of you is being “stolen.” They are identity thieves in that they steal facets of your personality for their own. They are always “watching” to see what other attribute they can take from you. They have no core sense of self, so they’d prefer to mimic the qualities they know make you likeable and victorious.

6. They rage excessively when challenged. When done by a pathological person, this is what is known as narcissistic rage. It occurs when a person feels slighted or when they feel their sense of superiority is negated in any way. Raging at the perceived offender allows the toxic person to reclaim some measure of control and reaffirms their sense of superiority.

7. They guilt you when they don’t get what they want. Since they feel excessively entitled to everything, they feel they need to coerce you into getting the outcome they desire.

8. After mistreating you, they try to get you to feel sorry for them. These pity ploys are a way for them to skirt responsibility and have you work hard to please them instead.

9. They rarely take accountability for their actions or say sorry. Apologizing would mean sharing in the consequences for their behavior or taking part in evolving from it. That’s why toxic people rarely do it.

10. If they do apologize, it’s usually to get you to forgive them. There’s no change in their behavior accompanying the apology. In fact, they may even continue the same behavior with even more force after you’ve pointed it out.

11. They act superior to you and treat you with contempt, as if you were below them in some way. Toxic people believe that others exist to serve them and that they deserve to be the center of attention. They do not like seeing the success of others nor do they want to feel as if someone could possibly surpass them in any way. When they see someone with qualities and strengths that threaten to take the attention away from them, they do not hesitate in humiliating, shaming or tearing down that individual to put him or her back in “their place.”

12. They use chronic, vitriolic sarcasm. This form of sarcasm is notemployed as a way to playfully build rapport as some people use it, but as a way to demean you and make you feel small.

13. They attempt to sabotage you in areas where they know you’re flourishing. Whether it’s creating chaos before a major job interview or ruining a celebration, toxic people are always on the lookout for how they can prevent you from achieving a level of success and joy that could threaten to overtake their power over you.

14. They call you names and verbally abuse you. These are traumatic shortcuts to control your behavior. Toxic people know that if they repeat something long enough, you’ll start to internalize it. Verbal abuse acts as a portal to erode your identity and self-esteem.

15. They attempt to micromanage your life. They may try to control where you go and who you see. They might try to place undue pressures or demands that take up your time so that you’re unable to pursue the dreams or support networks that they know are outside of their psychological jurisdiction.

16. They take over your finances, your career and demand a portion of what you’ve earned for themselves. Agency, independence and the ability to thrive on your own terms is very threatening to a toxic individual. Toxic people require that their victims be isolated; success, economic empowerment and a solid support network all threaten this, so they feel they have to take back the reins on the parts of your life that grant you a sense of stability and self-actualization.

17. They compete with you rather than celebrate your accomplishments. At first, toxic individuals may exhibit a starry-eyed admiration of your achievements. However, these same achievements come under extreme scrutiny as they work to use them for their own agenda or diminish them as a way to feel superior.

18. They project their own shame into you. If you evoke in them a sense of inadequacy – even without meaning to – they’ll suddenly go into an epic rant and rave, defending themselves with an excessive amount of force. You’re left dumbfounded as to why they’re so invested in proving themselves and why they’re so intent on attacking you, when in reality, their reactions have little to do with you and everything to do with their own egotistical delusions.

19. They project their own malignant qualities onto you. Everything that makes them toxic (their rage, their envy, their selfishness) is assigned to you as they try to paint you as the unhinged one.

20. They gaslight you. They make you believe that you are unable to see your own reality clearly. They deny abusive things they’ve said or done. This sudden “abuse amnesia” works to undercut your perceptions and make you doubt yourself.

21. They engage in pathological lying and infidelity. Lying comes easily to them and so does betrayal. They engage in a number of indiscretions and affairs, all while leading a double life. Their public image and facade rarely match the person they really are behind closed doors.

22. They exaggerate your flaws to the point of absurdity. This is meant to leave you feeling hopeless and worthless so that you are unable to self-validate. When you’re too busy feeling unworthy, you’re also too busy to realize that you deserve better.

23. Meanwhile, they dismiss your good qualities and all you’ve done to help them. You only seem to get “credit” for what the toxic person thinks you’ve done wrong. You feel as if you can never quite measure up to whatever arbitrary standards or expectations they’ve set for you. That’s because they’d never want you to feel sure of yourself – they want you to keep trying to please them so that you’ll never work to please yourself.

24. They don’t take ownership over their own problems; they expect you to clean up after them and fix their lives. Highly toxic people never want to be held responsible for being adults; they want to be coddled like children. If they made a mistake, they’ll inevitably scapegoat you and claim you’re the problem.

25. They blame you for parts of their lives that theyare responsible for taking care of. Their various addictions, failures, shortcomings all get served on your plate – along with the check. It’s as if they expect you to pay the price for their own omissions and struggles.

26. They are hypersensitive to any feedback you give them, even if it’s done gently. Meanwhile, they have no problem giving you plenty of “feedback” in terms of what they perceive is wrong about you.

27. They exhibit hot and cold behavior. One minute they’re love-bombing you with excessive praise, and the next they’re withdrawing from you as if you were the plague. These intermittent periods of kindness mixed with cruelty are a set-up to get you addicted to the crazymaking cycle of their abuse.

28. They subject you to the silent treatment (and there’s no good reason for it). They subject you to unpredictable periods of silence where they do not interact with you at all; it’s as if you cease to exist, even if you’re in an intimate relationship. The silent treatment is harmful because it affects the same area of the brain that registers physical pain. The silent treatment allows them space to commit whatever treason they’re engaging in behind your back while making you feel undesirable – it also helps them to evade any discussions about their unacceptable behavior.

29. They show no empathy for you when you’re suffering. These sadistic individuals are indifferent to your suffering; they lack empathy and some even take pleasure in seeing you suffer. The most malignant of narcissists even drive their victims to suicide.

30. They abandon you in times of illness or when you need them – even though you’ve always been there for them. This is done with a cruel and callous indifference that is unsettling. They show little to no concern for your welfare or your basic needs. They are too inherently selfish to look after you like the way you’ve looked after them.

31. They attempt to fast-forward intimacy with you without getting to know you – physically and emotionally. Whether it’s sex or your deepest secrets, toxic people try to push you to divulge and disclose early on so they can take inventory of your weak spots and exploit you.

32. They’re the fair-weather friend who’s always there when things are great but never when you need their support. When life is going well and you have everything going for you, they always seem to come around to leech off your newfound resources. When you want them to help out in an emergency or just need a listening ear, however, they’re nowhere to be found.

33. They piggyback on your success and take credit for your ideas. Toxic individuals feel they don’t have to work hard for what they want. They’d prefer to take it from others who’ve already done the work.

34. They judge your life decisions. This is done in a way that is vicious, cruel, unhelpful, excessive and unwarranted. If you feel uncertain about making decisions, you’re unable to trust yourself. Negating self-trust acts as leverage for a toxic person to step in and exercise their power over you.

35. They rarely provide emotional validation – every word out of their mouth tends to pick at your emotions. They question why you’re feeling the way you are rather than accepting it and creating space for it. By invalidating and pathologizing your emotions, they ensure that you never learn to listen to your inner guidance.

36. They cry crocodile tears when they need something or as faux remorse. Otherwise, they’re rarely emotional. In fact, most of the time, you can’t even sense fear, anxiety, or empathy from them.

37. They “hoover” you after mistreating you. Like a hoover vacuum, they suck you back into their toxic vortex even after the ending of the relationship, friendship or partnership. They do so by contacting you out of the blue just when you’re finally moving on. Once they get what they want from you, they leave and you may not hear from them from quite some time. At least, not unless they need you for something else, in which case, they tend to come crawling back.

38. They use you for your resources but are stingy with their own. Money, shelter, sex, social networks – they want access to all of yours. However, when it comes to their own resources and connections, they tend to be a lot more reserved.

39. They withhold acknowledgment and appreciation. You could bend over backwards fulfilling each and every one of their requests, and still not feel appreciated by them. They don’t appreciate what you do for them, but they keep you around to keep tapping into whatever it is you’re providing.

40. They’re conversational narcissists, constantly talking about themselves and rarely asking how you’re doing. When you finally try to get a word in, suddenly they’re cold and unresponsive. Or, they turn the conversation back to themselves.

41. They gossip about people and engage in relational aggression. They enjoy pitting people against one another. They like spreading rumors. They thrive off of excluding people and socially ostracizing those they feel threaten their power or evoke their envy. They assassinate your character both publicly and privately (the latter ensures you don’t catch on). They want to feel like they are the ones in control of managing everyone’s image so that they come out on top.

42. They recruit allies or flying monkeys to enable their behavior and carry out some of their dirty work for them. They wouldn’t want to get caught – so they keep their hands clean and allow their harem members to support them instead.

43. They spread misinformation about you and spread smear campaigns to undercut your credibility. This way, if you ever speak out about their behavior, fewer people would believe you.

44. They covertly and overtly insult you. This includes harsh remarks disguised as “jokes,” backhanded compliments, and needless comparisons that diminish you. Victims of toxic people tend to struggle with self-doubt and ruminations over these insults, and it’s no wonder why. These insults become ingrained in your psyche and lead to self-sabotage.

45. They withhold affection – for no apparent reason. Most people withdraw from being affectionate due to some sort of conflict. Toxic people do it so they can play puppeteer to your emotions.

46. They use sex to degrade, objectify and control you rather than as a way to connect with you. Sex is a power play to them, another instrument to feed their grandiose fantasies.

47. They stonewall you and shut down conversations before they’ve even had the chance to begin. That way, you never get to have a voice in the relationship. Your desires or basic needs never even enter the picture.

48. They idealize you, putting you on a pedestal, only to devalue the same qualities they once praised. Throwing you off the pedestal has the effect of making you work hard to get back on it. Meanwhile, they sit back, relax, and enjoy the show of making you pine for their approval.

49. They discard you once they’re done with you and quickly move onto another replacement, triangulating you with others to make you feel unworthy – and to compel you to compete for their attention.

50. They constantly shift the goal posts so what you do or who you are is perceived to never be enough.

Shahida Arabi is the author of POWER: Surviving and Thriving After Narcissistic Abuse.

https://www.quora.com/Why-are-narcissists-so-hateful

[sualkmedeiors]

Apple CEO: Our Own Information is Being Weaponized Against Us (Full Text of Speech + Video)

Apple CEO Tim Cook spoke at 2018 International Conference of Data Protection and Privacy Commissioners in Brussels last night and gave a bold and possibly controversial privacy speech. Cook directly challenged Facebook, and tech companies in general, to change their perspective on privacy. He also said that Apple is fully supportive of ‘a comprehensive federal privacy law in the United States.’

Below is the full text of Apple CEO Tim Cook’s speech followed by the full video embed:

Apple CEO Tim Cook – The Privacy Speech

It is an honor to be here with you today in this grand hall, a room that represents what is possible when people of different backgrounds, histories, and philosophies come together to build something bigger than themselves. I am deeply grateful to our hosts. I want to recognize Ventsislav Karadjov for his service and leadership. And it’s a true privilege to be introduced by his co-host, a statesman I admire greatly, Giovanni Butarelli.

Now Italy has produced more than its fair share of great leaders and public servants. Machiavelli taught us how leaders can get away with evil deeds, and Dante showed us what happens when they get caught.

You Set an Example for the World

Giovanni has done something very different. Through his values, his dedication, his thoughtful work, Giovanni, his predecessor Peter Hustinx, and all of you have set an example for the world. We are deeply grateful.

We need you to keep making progress, now more than ever. Because these are transformative times. Around the world, from Copenhagen to Chennai to Cupertino, new technologies are driving breakthroughs in humanity’s greatest common projects. From preventing and fighting disease, to curbing the effects of climate change, to ensuring every person has access to information and economic opportunity.

We See Vividly, Painfully, How Technology Can Harm Rather Than Help

At the same time, we see vividly, painfully, how technology can harm rather than help. Platforms and algorithms that promised to improve our lives can actually magnify our worst human tendencies. Rogue actors and even governments have taken advantage of user trust to deepen divisions, incite violence, and even undermine our shared sense of what is true and what is false.

This crisis is real. It is not imagined, or exaggerated, or crazy. And those of us who believe in technology’s potential for good must not shrink from this moment. Now, more than ever, as leaders of governments, as decision-makers in business, and as citizens, we must ask ourselves a fundamental question: What kind of world do we want to live in? I’m here today because we hope to work with you as partners in answering this question.

Technology Doesn’t Want To Do Great Things – That Part Takes Us

At Apple, we are optimistic about technology’s awesome potential for good. But we know that it won’t happen on its own. Every day, we work to infuse the devices we make with the humanity that makes us. As I’ve said before, technology is capable of doing great things, but it doesn’t want to do great things. It doesn’t want anything. That part takes all of us.

That’s why I believe that our missions are so closely aligned. As Giovanni puts it, “We must act to ensure that technology is designed and developed to serve humankind and not the other way around.”

Privacy is a Fundamental Human Right

We at Apple believe that privacy is a fundamental human right. But we also recognize that not everyone sees it that way. In a way, the desire to put profits over privacy is nothing new.

As far back as 1890, future Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis published an article in the Harvard Law Review making the case for a “Right to Privacy” in the United States. He warned, “Gossip is no longer the resource of the idle and of the vicious, but has become a trade.”

Our Own Information is Being Weaponized Against Us

Today that trade has exploded into a data industrial complex. Our own information, from the every day to the deeply personal, is being weaponized against us with military efficiency. Every day, billions of dollars change hands, and countless decisions are made, on the basis of our likes and dislikes, our friends and families, our relationships and conversations, our wishes and fears, our hopes and dreams.

These scraps of data, each one harmless enough on its own, are carefully assembled, synthesized, traded, and sold. Taken to its extreme, this process creates an enduring digital profile and lets companies know YOU better than YOU may know yourself.

We Shouldn’t Sugarcoat the Consequences… This is Surveillance

Your profile is then run through algorithms that can serve up increasingly extreme content, pounding our harmless preferences into hardened convictions. If green is your favorite color, you may find yourself reading a lot of articles or watching a lot of videos about the insidious threat from people who like orange.

In the news, almost every day, we bear witness to the harmful, even deadly, effects of these narrowed worldviews. We shouldn’t sugarcoat the consequences. This is surveillance. And these stockpiles of personal data serve only to enrich the companies that collect them. This should make us very uncomfortable. It should unsettle us. And it illustrates the importance of our shared work and the challenges still ahead of us.

We Support a Comprehensive Federal Privacy Law in the US

Fortunately, this year, you’ve shown the world that good policy and political will can come together to protect the rights of everyone. We should celebrate the transformative work of the European institutions tasked with the successful implementation of the GDPR. We also celebrate the new steps taken, not only here in Europe, but around the world. In Singapore, Japan, Brazil, New Zealand, and many more nations, regulators are asking tough questions and crafting effective reforms.

It is time for the rest of the world, including my home country, to follow your lead. We at Apple are in full support of a comprehensive federal privacy law in the United States. There and everywhere, it should be rooted in four essential rights.

First, the right to have personal data minimized. Companies should challenge themselves to de-identify customer data, or not to collect it in the first place. Second, the right to knowledge. Users should always know what data is being collected and what it is being collected for. This is the only way to empower users to decide what collection is legitimate and what isn’t. Anything less is a sham.

Third, the right to access. Companies should recognize that data belongs to users, and we should all make it easy for users to get a copy of, correct, and delete their personal data. And fourth, the right to security. Security is foundational to trust and all other privacy rights.

There Are Those Who Would Prefer I Hadn’t Said All of That

Now, there are those who would prefer I hadn’t said all of that. Some oppose any form of privacy legislation. Others will endorse reform in public and then resist and undermine it behind closed doors. They may say to you, ‘our companies will never achieve technology’s true potential if they are constrained with privacy regulation.’ But this notion isn’t just wrong, it is destructive.

Technology’s potential is, and always must be, rooted in the faith people have in it, in the optimism and creativity that it stirs in the hearts of individuals, and in its promise and capacity to make the world a better place. It’s time to face facts. We will never achieve technology’s true potential without the full faith and confidence of the people who use it.

At Apple, Respect for Privacy and Suspicion of Authority Are in Our Blood

At Apple, respect for privacy and a healthy suspicion of authority have always been in our bloodstream. Our first computers were built by misfits, tinkerers, and rebels, not in a laboratory or a boardroom, but in a suburban garage. We introduced the Macintosh with a famous TV ad channeling George Orwell’s 1984, a warning of what can happen when technology becomes a tool of power and loses touch with humanity.

And way back in 2010, Steve Jobs said in no uncertain terms, “Privacy means people know what they’re signing up for, in plain language, and repeatedly. It’s worth remembering the foresight and courage it took to make that statement.

When we designed this device we knew it could put more personal data in your pocket than most of us keep in our homes. And there was enormous pressure on Steve and Apple to bend our values and to freely share the information. But we refused to compromise.

In fact, we’ve only deepened our commitment in the decade since. From hardware breakthroughs that encrypt fingerprints and faces securely and only on your device to simple and powerful notifications that make clear to every user precisely what they’re sharing and when they are sharing it.  We aren’t absolutists, and we don’t claim to have all the answers. Instead, we always try to return to that simple question: What kind of world do we want to live in?

At every stage of the creative process, then and now, we engage in an open, honest, and robust ethical debate about the products we make and the impact they will have. That’s just a part of our culture. We don’t do it because we have to, we do it because we ought to. The values behind our products are as important to us as any feature.

The Dangers Are Real From Cyber-Criminals to Rogue Nation States

We understand that the dangers are real from cyber-criminals to rogue nation states. We’re not willing to leave our users to fend for themselves. And, we’ve shown, we’ll defend them, we will defend our principles when challenged.

Those values, that commitment to thoughtful debate and transparency, they’re only going to get more important. As progress speeds up, these things should continue to ground us and connect us, first and foremost, to the people we serve.

For AI to be Truly Smart, It Must Respect Human Values

Artificial Intelligence is one area I think a lot about. Clearly, it’s on the minds of many of my peers as well. At its core, this technology promises to learn from people individually to benefit us all. Yet advancing AI by collecting huge personal profiles is laziness, not efficiency. For Artificial Intelligence to be truly smart, it must respect human values, including privacy.

If we get this wrong, the dangers are profound. We can achieve both great Artificial Intelligence and great privacy standards. It’s not only a possibility, it is a responsibility. In the pursuit of artificial intelligence, we should not sacrifice the humanity, creativity, and ingenuity that define our human intelligence. And at Apple, we never will.

In the mid-19th Century, the great American writer Henry David Thoreau found himself so fed up with the pace and change of Industrial society that he moved to a cabin in the woods by Walden Pond. Call it the first digital cleanse.

Yet even there, where he hoped to find a bit of peace, he could hear a distant clatter and whistle of a steam engine passing by. “We do not ride on the railroad,” he said. “It rides upon us.”

Those of us who are fortunate enough to work in technology have an enormous responsibility. It is not to please every grumpy Thoreau out there. That’s an unreasonable standard, and we’ll never meet it. We are responsible, however, for recognizing that the devices we make and the platforms we build have real lasting, even permanent effects, on the individuals and communities who use them.

What Kind of World Do We Want to Live In?

We must never stop asking ourselves, what kind of world do we want to live in? The answer to that question must not be an afterthought, it should be our primary concern. We at Apple can, and do, provide the very best to our users while treating their most personal data like the precious cargo that it is. And if we can do it, then everyone can do it.

Fortunately, we have your example before us. Thank you for your work, for your commitment to the possibility of human-centered technology, and for your firm belief that our best days are still ahead of us.

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