#so instead of using this useless oppression technique

[anneangel]

Well... I have something to add...

Gaiman is a vile guy who thought that, because he had money and popularity, he would get away with anything he did against women (and it scares me to think that he might even be able to, legally speaking, although I hope he never shows up here again).

On the other hand, Rowling is a woman who is using her popularity and money to hate a wide group of people (trans), and with politics living in the UK and US, she will have an large wide group of supporters, who are already using her as a 'role model' and spreading propaganda like "she was right all along".

On the one hand, Gaiman will try to use a legal system that is already in his favor to get away with it (after all, he is a MAN, white and rich, and that in itself gives him privileges; the law generally favors the aggressor over the victim. For example, an aggressor can abuse his victim, and if the victim does not present sufficient evidence, he will not be able to stand trial, and the aggressor will remain unpunished not because he is "innocent", but because of a lack of evidence to support the accusation. The victim, in addition to being the most vulnerable and traumatized, still has to be "cold-blooded" to accumulate evidence or will not be taken seriously), on the other hand, transphobes are trying to create a legal system that decriminalizes (in countries where this is/was illegal) transphobia.

Gaiman is using the current system to try to get away with it, the other side, Transphobes is trying to create a system to be transphobic and get away with it. Both are bad.

Gaiman is trying to get away with using an old and well-known system that favors him, but a system that many of us have had enough of, and find unfair. Meanwhile, transphobes are trying to shape a new system that will harm trans people without being punished, and this is on the RISE.

Many have also spoken here about the difference between direct violence and indirect violence (Gaiman's direct violence affected a specific number of women close to him [although there may be more victims and we don't know], while Rowling's indirect violence towards trans people is widespread, it affects any trans person, in any country. It is more comprehensive and affects people who don't even know who she is [if there are those who don't know]).

Look, I hate Gaiman, but at least if someone stands up to defend him they will be harshly criticized (it may be different if he is "cleared" by the courts, but even so, I believe that the people who were his fans will not be fooled again. He doesn't say he 'dont did those things', he says he did it, but that "it's okay, because it was consensual", but what disgusts me the most is that he took advantage of people in a vulnerable situation [financially and socially] in relation to him, who were in an imbalance of power in relation to him, he simply used them because he thought he could. Even if it was consensual, as he claims, the things he did are still vile!).

The difference between the two is that Rowling is, now, given 'carte blanche' to continue spreading transphobic "opinions".

As for Gaiman, he's pretty much destroyed within the sphere that once "adored" him (partly because he claimed to be progressive, not conservative, feminist, pro-LGBTQIA+, and now the audience he tried to win over is against him).

Yes, I still worry that he might "flip the gun" and try to mobilize misogynistic fans to side with him instead of the victims, but I think he's really diminished his fan base.

There is also the fact that Harry Potter has been a very profitable money-making machine for almost 30 years, something that has attracted everyone from children to adults, with parks and various original merchandising products being sold EVERYWHERE in the world, in addition to the books themselves, movies, games and shows. On the other hand, Gaiman's works, although some have adaptations and original merchandising products, are not on the same scale as HP, it do not reach such a wide audience and do not even reach all countries around the world. This way, it's easier for fans of Gaiman's works to make a decision to "not acquire/buy new/official products" when there aren't so many of them and they don't reach so many places. But, HP products are even in the candies that children eat!

Just remember, the shows that Gaiman was the writer/creator/author of were either canceled or rushed to a quick finish.

Rowling hasn't had any shows or projects 'hurt' (most of the backlash against her has been in the fanbase, not in the 'realm of her projects'). The new HP show is trending on other social media platforms! And while Sandman and Good Omens may be trending in the coming months due to the release of their final seasons, everyone knows it's game over, those projects are only being finished because they were already in the works before the allegations.

Ultimately, both fans got screwed for seeking escapism in the works of both Rowling and Gaiman.

And I'm not going to blame HP fans for the current politics being in Rowling's favor. Just as I'm not going to blame Sandman or Good Omens fans if Gaiman gets win in court.

On the other hand, anyone who is supporting these authors EXACTLY because they agree with their "opinions" or behavior, well, then that person is not my friend.

So what I'm saying is that to me there is a difference between someone who is "a fan of HP but hates the author", and someone who is a fan and supports her for her transphobic "opinions".

Just as there is a difference between someone who is a fan of Sandman, Good Omens or Coraline, and is appalled by the author, these are completely different from those who are blaming the victims and not the author as a abuser.

Furthermore, I understand that the situation is difficult today, and that anyone who claims to be a fan of Harry Potter, Sandman, Good Omens, Coraline, etc., runs the risk of being accused of being transphobic or defending abusers. After all, people try to mirror the authors' image in their fans.

But it is important to remember that just because someone is a fan of the work, it does not mean that they support the authors.

Yes, the authors are alive and well and making money from the work.

This is where it is up to each person to decide whether or not to continue consuming their content or not!

But I will not impose this on anyone or oppress them if they do not detach themselves from the works, nor will I hate them.

Consuming these works is not a crime, it is a moral decision. Everyone is free to make their own decision and should not be the target of violence (even if it is verbal).

Violence cannot be the answer!

Whether a person is a fan of Good Omens or Harry Potter, no one will be able to make them stop loving these works through oppression!

Oppression solves nothing. It may silence these people for a while, but it will not last forever.

It is through oppression that Gaiman and Rowling try to win. Gaiman believes that if he oppresses his victims and makes them regret speaking out, he will win. Just as transphobes believe that oppressing the trans community will make trans people wither away and disappear forever.

But is that really true??? Who wants to use the same strategies as them?

So, if you are furious with Harry Potter or Good Omens fans, don't oppress them, don't hate them.

Don't be a violent jerk with these fans, be friendly.

They, most of them, only use these works for ESCAPISM, from their bad lives (life has been shit for many of us, and some take refuge in fictional universes as a coping mechanism). Don't hate them for that, just HELP them look for and FIND other fictions to take refuge in!!! (There are also those who have great lives and only use these works as a form of entertainment, so you can try to help them find other entertainment).

It will be much more practical and useful.

If someone can't let go of their affection for these works of fiction, don't hate them or oppress them. If their love for these works bothers you because you think 'they love fiction more than real people', then just block them and block the hashtag. But by no means try to oppress the people who like these works. If you want to yell at someone, do it first with the big fish, the authors of these works, and express your discontent with them, who are the real culprits. You won't gain anything by oppressing one or another online fan, it won't change anything in the grand scheme of things.

The thing is, if you use the strategy of oppression, they won't disappear like you hope they will, they'll just have to use more creative ways to continue to exist without getting your attention and hatred.

i hypothesize that the reason neil gaiman's fans managed to move on so much more successfully than JK rowling's fans have, has to do something with the fact that millions of covid deaths doesn't feel as big as a single 9/11. neil did evil things to other people with his own person while rowling wrecked untold suffering that is nonetheless difficult to directly trace to her.

[sukirichi]

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

[lightlycareless]

aughsdfsjhfs okay sorry for sending two asks in such quick succession but! i really love your take on naoya's character n after reading the last ask involving that "fight his wife/lose his powers" dilemma it got me wondering what you think his reaction would be to actually losing his abilities? i've recently written a story where that happens (via sealing talisman carved into the skin) and i'd love to hear your take on that sorta thing!

Hello again!

Sorry for responding late, been... out there, you know 😏 Also, don't worry about them asks! You keep sending them in, it makes me very happy to read headcanons, thoughts, comments, whatever it is that you want to share with me I don't mind at all hehe 😭❤❤❤❤ thank you!!!!

Going back to your ask, I'm glad you're liking my take on Naoya 🤭 I gotta say, that theory/dilemma had me speechless at one point—I was like omg what would he do???

Like he's attached to Y/N in a great level, but at the same time, I don't think he would give up easily his technique/rank/power cause that's all he's ever known in life, that was literally his purpose, you know? To strip him of that would make him feel like he... well, he's useless.

And we've seen what happens to him when things don't go his way—he was more than ready to kill Fushiguro just because he was appointed leader, as well as returning as a vengeful spirit cause he couldn't accept that Maki won against him.

However, if he had someone to support him through this difficult/traumatic moment in his life... I think he'd actually make peace with it. It would be very hard to get to that point tho, if he ever gets there, or if the person besides him is strong enough to stay with him through out the process. It could even be an eye-opening experience to him—there's more to life than just being a sorcerer.

In better circumstances, Y/N would do all that she could to make him feel better, even go along with him once he suggested seeing someone that offered to help him get his abilities back. They'd spend all their money in finding a solution, hiring underground sorcerers, all kind of shady people just to find a ray of hope—sparing no expense.

Ah, but I do think that he'd snap at her once in a while. More so if she was the reason why he lost them :/—Y/N would need to have a very strong... will, to understand it's his pain/jealousy/desperation talking, and overcome this as well. However, it doesn't make it any less painful, and I wouldn't blame her if she left.

But if he were alone... I dread to think what he would do. I dare say that he might even... unalive himself. The Zen'in would definitely toss him aside, call him all kinds of names, and wouldn't even attempt to help him. He'll realize that he was always alone, and now that his worth is gone, what's there to do? Where does he go? There's so many emotions he has to confront at the same time... and he never learned how to.

Kind of reminds me of Touya once he realized Endeavor was having children to replace him, and the forest scene :/

Also, I do think that many would believe Naoya wouldn't give up easily once he lost his abilities, maybe even considering unaliving himself as a bit too much, however, he's a character that has so much depth to explore. He puts a front of being strong, indifferent, rude, when in reality, he's scared. He's scared of being forgotten, of being alone, of not being worthy—he has to put down others to feel good about himself.

I'm kind of resentful that Gege never explored that side of a misogynistic household lol it's oppressive to both women and men, and instead, he gave us a caricature of an evil person 😭 Welp, Naoya still gotta face the consequences of his actions lol.

Oof, that was a heavy ask hahaha But I liked it!! I just allowed the words to flow hehe Thank you for sending in this ask 👀 I hope it answered your question, but if there's something more that you want to see, please let me know :>!

Also, the talisman carved in the skin to lose his abilities is something I found very interesting... it's gonna leave me pondering on it for a while 🤭

Thank you! I hope you have a wonderful week, take care ❤

[goldenraeofsun]

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

 Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place. 

 * * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.” 

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

 * * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later. 

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks. 

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.” 

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

 * * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s. 

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.  

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

 * * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * * 

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right. 

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?” 

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach. 

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He  turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal. 

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

 * * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them. 

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair. 

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

- Chapter 9 -

Wen Ruohan presided over dinner in what was now a monthly occurrence.

He liked habit more, now that he was getting older; liked to have everything in its proper place.

Liked to indulge himself more.

Nie Mingjue mechanically forced down his food, drinking his soup first to fill his belly as quickly as possible. If he was very lucky, he might get a case of food poisoning, same as the one that had struck down the younger children that one time; if he did, he’d do his utmost to throw up all over Wen Ruohan’s shoes.

As always, they answered his questions. Wen Ruohan was just in the middle of an especially complicated hypothetical when one of his deputies rushed in with an urgent letter, falling to his knees before him. Wen Ruohan took the letter and read it; he scowled and dismissed them, rising to his feet to return to the throne room.

The reprieve felt like a brush of cool wind on a hot day.

Nie Mingjue caught Wen Xu’s eye.

Wen Xu winked.

-

It wasn’t really a surprise when the war started.

There were only so many hypothetical battle plans Nie Mingjue could be asked about, whether by Wen Ruohan or by Nie Huaisang and the younger generation of Wens, without him putting two and two together. He was put in the awkward situation of having to answer both sides to the best of his ability, and the whole thing started to feel a little like playing a game of go against himself.

“That’s what you get for being irritatingly good at tactics and with a knack for strategy, and having proven for years and years that you could find weaknesses in all of Sect Leader Wen’s hypothetical battleplans,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Talent brings with it its own punishment.”

“What’s your punishment for all your scheming, then?” Nie Mingjue asked, amused despite himself. “Becoming emperor and ruling the world?”

“I,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hand to his chest, “am going to grow up to be absolutely useless.”

“Nice try.”

To Nie Mingjue’s relief, Wen Ruohan did not send him to the front line, perhaps afraid that Nie Mingjue would attempt some sabotage or maybe merely run away, and that made it more difficult for him to implement the plans Nie Mingjue suggested to him. They were good, solid plans, each and every one of them, Nie Mingjue implementing everything he learned about the rules of war and adding in a touch of his own knack for forecasting how people would react in a fight, but living so long in Qishan meant that he knew a little bit about how people behaved the rest of the time, too.

He couldn’t make bad suggestions in the plans he recommended or Wen Ruohan would know, but he could propose a plan that required a will of iron and nerves of steel when he knew that the general in charge of that particular division was crafty but cautious, could suggest a complex maneuver requiring cooperation for a general who hated his underlings, could apply just a bit of the brattiness he’d picked up from Wen Chao and Nie Huaisang alike to make his plans just that little bit more annoying to implement.

He could murmur counterplans in the dark of the night when they were all supposed to be asleep, casually sharing a single bed because it was cold, the strange chill of the Nightless City’s interior despite the warmer climate. He could stare at the ceiling, reciting weakness after weakness of the plans he had proposed as if he was merely anxious about them, and this time he tailored those weaknesses to specific strengths: how the pincer maneuver wouldn’t work if it was used against the Jiang, especially if they relied on their watercraft to escape, turning strength to weakness by retaliating in the aftermath; how the advantageous high ground of the mountain would backfire if their enemy were the Lan, their battle-songs’ effectiveness multiplied by the clear mountain air and the resonance of the echoes; how the effect of the ambush would be halved if it was used against the Jin, who were so rich and so lazy that their baggage train would never move fast enough to spring the trap in full.

He still didn’t know how Nie Huaisang and Wen Chao exchanged letters with Lan Wangji, or what Wen Ning was doing over in the Lotus Pier with the full support of Jiang Fengmian’s mother-in-law, or even what scheme Wen Xu and Wen Qing had concocted between them to lure in the normally reluctant Jin sect and force them to take a side. He didn’t need to know, didn’t want to know; he wanted to put his body between them and Wen Ruohan, distract the man with his ‘walks’ and his punishments and the influence that Wen Ruohan thought meant he knew everything there was to know, and to give them as much time as he could manage before disaster struck.

“Isn’t it time for Nie Huaisang to go to the Cloud Recesses?” he asked, playing ignorant, in the middle of a dinner when Wen Ruohan was already stewing over some unfortunate reversals, more than a few caused by the reemerged Qingheng-jun, who had taken on the mantle of leading the war as its general.

Wen Ruohan turned to him with lightning in his eyes, and Nie Mingjue didn’t have to opine on the war for an entire week, confined as he was to his sickbed.

But good things could not last, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of pain when Wen Xu came to sit by his bed in the middle of the night.

“Where is he sending you?” he asked. The two of them were the only ones old enough to be used in war, the others too young to go even for someone as disdainful of social norms as Wen Ruohan, and if Nie Mingjue could not be trusted on a battlefield then it had to be Wen Xu.

“I’m sorry,” Wen Xu said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault – are you supposed to tell him no? I know you will do everything you can to stop the worst of the war, to fight honorably and with fairness, avoiding harm to the common people.”

Wen Xu swallowed audibly. “You’ve always thought so well of me,” he murmured. “Always assumed such things…to continue to do badly even after I knew what you thought of me was to fail to live up to your expectations, and even if it made things harder sometimes, the alternative of letting you down was always worse. I hate to disappoint you now.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, a long silence. Wen Xu gathering his thoughts, steeling his spine.

“He wants me to burn the Unclean Realm.”

Nie Mingjue had expected a blow. He had not expected –

He exhaled, hard, and found Wen Xu’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly.

I cannot forgive this, he meant. But I will hate him for it instead of you.

-

When the news came, Nie Mingjue allowed himself to feel for the first time the rage he had been swallowing down for nearly five years – his father’s rage, his family’s rage, Baxia’s rage, his own.

Training the saber was a style that promoted aggression, both in fighting and in the soul, and yet Nie Mingjue had restrained himself to the point of agony, oppressing himself internally as thoroughly as Wen Ruohan did externally, and all because he knew that the consequences of his actions would not be felt by him alone.

Because he was still his sect’s heir, still the rightful leader of Qinghe Nie, and if he could by his submission and humiliation earn them even a little more consideration, he would do it, however anathema it was to him.

He would be his sect’s heir before he was his father’s son, forgetting injustice and bending knee to his father’s killer – he would keep silent, no matter what he endured.

Wen Xu burned the Unclean Realm, and for the first time, Nie Mingjue put aside his silence.

He howled.

At first, Wen Ruohan laughed at him – the rage of the impotent was merely attractive coloring to him – but Nie Mingjue was not so foolish as to waste the gift of anger so easily. He did not do what Wen Ruohan had undoubtedly expected him to do: savage some training dummies, beat up a few pointless guards, beat himself even if only to vent the pain in his heart.

He did what Wen Ruohan did not expect.

Nie Mingjue, who loved only his family more than his sect –

He lashed out at them.

Nie Mingjue rampaged through the familial quarters at the Nightless City: he burned a sobbing Nie Huaisang’s fans, calling him worthless and a disappointment on their family name; he destroyed a cauldron in Wen Qing’s room in the midst of a batch of medicine she was making, unable to find her but naming her complicit, shouting that she supported evil from behind a façade of righteousness; he attacked Wen Chao’s room, searching for the son of his enemy and calling for his head, demanding blood for blood, red-eyed with fury, searching for a target.

He found one.

Not Wen Chao himself, of course – Nie Mingjue was not, as he was pretending to be, truly maddened beyond all reason, for all that the sorrow and anger he felt were real – but rather his bodyguard, who was nominally there to protect him.

Wen Zhuliu, the Core-Melting Hand. A technique that could only be used for two things, for scaring people – or turning the course of a single battle.

For destroying good people on the other side of the war, turning them into regular people that could not fight, and destroying morale at the same time – Wen Zhuliu was a plague-carrier, a danger that needed to be avoided, as much as weapon simply in the threat of him as he was in actual reality.

Wen Zhuliu was a fierce fighter, more powerful than a person with that sort of technique usually was, and Nie Mingjue was not in as good a shape as he could be, still recovering both emotionally and physically from his last walk with Wen Ruohan and the consequences of his insolent tongue, but he had the advantage of surprise on his side and his saber was unmatched in close combat, the melee his specialty.

By the time Wen Ruohan realized that Nie Mingjue had turned against his own in a way he’d been refusing to do for years and came to stop him, Nie Mingjue had already claimed Wen Zhuliu’s head, sticking it on a makeshift pike before burning the body as an offering in his father’s name.

He turned, red-eyed, to look upon the man he would much rather have killed but knew in his weakness that he couldn’t, and in the strength and safety of his rage decided to give it his best shot anyway.

It didn’t work, of course.

This time he was bedridden for more than a week.

-

Nie Mingjue found himself missing the others more than he thought he would.

He’d anticipated it, of course. The instant Wen Xu had told him his mission, the plan had leapt fully-formed into his mind, the only way he could think of to keep the younger children safe since there was no way to keep them beneath Wen Ruohan’s notice. In Wen Ruohan’s eyes they were tools, not yet old enough to be properly useful but still sharp enough to use where it counted – he knew how much Nie Mingjue loved them, and if the war went badly he would undoubtedly threaten their lives to get Nie Mingjue’s compliance, would use them as leverage to send him to the front line as a general for the wrong side. Any failure would be punished, and Nie Mingjue didn’t need personal experience to know that war was nothing but failures, one right after the other, interspersed with occasional victories snatched from the jaws of defeat.

Wen Ruohan would not accept that. He would hurt the children, again and again, just to hurt him.

He would put his attention on them, and when he did, he would figure out what they were doing. All their little schemes would become clear to his eyes, and then –

There was no and then. It was unthinkable.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t strong enough to stop Wen Ruohan, no more than he could stop the full weight of a rushing river, but like the river even Wen Ruohan could be diverted if you were clever enough about it.

Nie Mingjue was not especially clever, he didn’t think, not the way Nie Huaisang or Wen Xu or even Wen Qing were, but that was why he thought his plan would work – Wen Ruohan wouldn’t expect it from him.

He would accept the surface reading of what happened: he would think that Nie Mingjue had succumbed to his family’s curse and lashed out blindly in his rage, burning bridges it had taken him years to build, and his cruel mind would immediately leap to how he could use this to hurt and torment him. He would know that Nie Mingjue would be all the more pained if he knew that Wen Ruohan was using his gross violation of trust to replace his influence on the children, which Wen Ruohan hated, with his own.

Under the circumstances, it would hurt him more for Wen Ruohan to treat them well, seeking to seduce them into dependence, than it would hurt him to see them in pain. Nie Mingjue could only count on Wen Ruohan’s sadism to do the rest.

(And since he had no choice but to break with his family in such a horrible way, there was no reason not to take advantage of the situation to get rid of Wen Zhuliu. The benefits outweighed the costs – or at least, the benefits went to everyone, while the costs fell only on him, and he could accept that.)

Nie Mingjue had already seen the fruits of his efforts. At the very beginning, when Nie Mingjue was still bedridden, Wen Ruohan had brought Nie Huaisang with him to the room in the Fire Palace where Nie Mingjue had been imprisoned, and Nie Huaisang had quailed away from him, rocking backwards a little, almost even leaning behind Wen Ruohan as if Nie Mingjue was the scarier of the two.

(Nie Mingjue knew that Nie Huaisang was the finest actor of their group, but oh – it hurt, it hurt!)

Wen Ruohan smiled at the spasm of pain that crossed Nie Mingjue’s face and put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder as he drew him away.

Nie Mingjue wanted to cut off that hand and burn it to ashes.

He wanted –

He wanted many things.

A different life, for the most part. To live somewhere where he didn’t have to make these sorts of dirty calculations, to hurt the people he loved in order to save them from worse pain. Where he would be able to take Nie Huaisang into his arms and whisper promises that he wasn’t going to succumb to a qi deviation the way their father had, at least not any time soon; where he could buy Wen Qing a half-dozen new cauldrons in apology; where he could tell Wen Chao that he didn’t mean any of the things he’d forced himself to say…

He’d warned them, of course. But there was knowing, and then there was experiencing, and he – he hated to disappoint them, even a little.

And in all his plans he hadn’t realized how terribly he’d miss them, all of them, now that he couldn’t see them.

There was nothing to do but miss them now that he was here, trapped in a small little bed in a small little room with barely any light but that which came in through the door when someone walked by, all alone and waiting for Wen Ruohan to decide his fate.

A fate that was a lot less certain than it had once been, Nie Mingjue reflected. Wen Ruohan had once been bound by etiquette to keep him alive, to pretend to the cultivation world that his forced adoption was an act of generosity rather than an outright act of conquering, but all of those reasons went away now that the cultivation world had declared war on him.

He’d already sent Wen Xu to burn the Unclean Realm. Why bother with hiding behind a puppet?

At least it didn’t seem like Wen Ruohan had realized it yet.

[kingbennyboyyy]

benny's RWBY rewrite: the main 4

heya, i told y'all i'd be back on this pretty fast. truth be told, this is a rough transcription of my notes app from like 4am last night, because my brain wouldn't let me sleep until i wrote all of this down somewhere. just ADHD things, i guess.

anyway, let's get into the girls!

ruby rose:

- the youngest of the main 4, ruby is characterized by her naive nature contrasted with her combat prowess. i think that part of the allure the "red" trailer had was a new demographic being exposed to the idea of a little girl in a frilly skirt absolutely bodying a bunch of hell monsters. this contrast is one of the most striking elements of her character, at least in my opinion. i want to lean into this and have ruby be filled with conflict. she's described time and time again as a masterful wielder of an extremely dangerous weapon, and i think contrasting this solo power with an inability to make strategic and high-stakes decisions could be interesting. especially when forced into a leadership position, i'd love to see ruby grow into a child with a deadly weapon, to a leader with a deadly weapon.

- ruby's friendly and outgoing nature is one of her most defining traits, along with her optimism. she sees the good in everyone she comes across, and does her best to make sure that everyone is happy. nothing against her, but ruby isn't the most wise (using the D&D definition of the term). however, i think that she should be somewhat comparable to deku. she built her own weapon and taught herself how to use it, so i don't think it would be out of character for her to do something similar to velvet, taking notes of the interaction between people's semblances, weapons, and fighting styles. this plays into her strategic evolution- the more training she has in understanding how people fight, the better she can direct her allies and teammates.

- (for this section, i'm assigning names to the combo of ideas i describe) real roses rot: ruby is an idealist at heart. she wants to be a huntress because she wants to fight monsters and help people, and the simplicity of this desire speaks to her naivety as a character. she knows what she wants to be, but not yet what she has to be. as the series goes on, ruby should realize that life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, saving people and fighting monsters. sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, and sometimes the monsters look like friends. she has to learn that real roses rot eventually.

- silver eyes: i think that ruby's eyes have a lot of potential as a symbol. ignoring for the moment the fact that ruby's silver eyes literally mark her as a grim-killing machine, her eyes are a crucial part of her character. what she sees in people, the good that she's able to find in others, defines her. her inability to see the sacrifices that need to be made, and the evil in the people around her, should be something she overcomes.

weiss schnee:

- the resident ice queen, what struck me most about weiss at the beginning of the series was her awareness. ironically enough, the only other member of her team as aware of her place as she is is blake. she is extremely cognizant of the expectations placed upon her by her father, and by the SDC as a whole. thus, she is a perfectionist, but judges herself the most harshly. this perfection is evident in everything about her- her fighting style is precise, ballet-inspired, and clean. similarly to her struggle with her familial expectations, she struggles with the family semblance. i think that this struggle has the potential to symbolize a lot for weiss. exiting the bubble of high-class atlesian life presents a lot of struggles for weiss, some of which i'll get into later.

- weiss comes off as cold, and sometimes can be just plain mean, but this comes from a constant awareness of the fact that she is being watched. where her older sister, winter, is the paragon of atlas' military might, she is expected to be a similar paragon for the hunting capabilities of the schnees. for her, a favorable image cannot be cultivated without perfection and control. control is paramount in weiss' character: she often uses the same techniques that her father used on her to attempt to control others, but she should learn that it is impossible to control people through fear for long (perhaps by learning not to fear her own father). when not in control, she struggles to take direction for two distinct reasons: because she doesn't agree with the directions or director, or she doesn't believe she can perform to her director's standards.

- stained snow: something that bothered me about weiss' character was how quickly the racist history of her history was forgotten by the people around her. while potentially very uncomfortable, i think it's important to show how weiss' upbringing and surroundings have clouded her judgement. while canonically a member of her family was killed by the white fang, i think it would be much more compelling for her family to have pinned the murder on a faunus to save face. in reality, the murder was a power grab for her family. she has to realize the role the oppression and violence against people has in the maintenance of her privilege. in having to interact with the people wronged by the oppression that was supported her lifestyle, she will be confronted with a question: does she even want to represent the schnee family, or does she want to try to change the course of her family history?

- golden voice: in her promo (as far as i recall), we hear singing in front of guests at a party we can assume her family has thrown. i think that her voice has a lot of symbolic potential: despite presumably having been forced to bend to the whims of her father, weiss is not afraid to speak her mind. i think that her struggles with her semblance should be overcome through the use of her voice. this serves a dual purpose- for one, it shows that she can use her powerful voice to affect positive change instead of negative. secondly, it shows that she doesn't need to abide by her family's standards in order to succeed.

blake belladonna:

- mysterious and aloof, blake is the member of the team with the most things to hide. the estranged ex of the leader of a violent sect of the white fang (not the whole thing, good christ), a faunus-in-hiding, and closeted trashy romance connoisseur, blake is somewhat defined by her secrets. despite her young age, her life has been marred by conflict, and rather than face these challenges head-on, she would much rather turn tail and run. she's been forced to give up pieces of herself to help others, and in spite of her proclivity to flee and her outward apathetic appearance, she is a deeply sensitive character, and cares deeply for the suffering of others.

- read by others as aloof and disinterested, this impression couldn't be further from the truth. blake is considerate, insightful, and kind, but builds up a wall around herself as a result of being burned and used too many times. it's exhausting to care as much as blake does, and it's easier to pretend that she just doesn't. this facade can't last forever, though. i don't think blake should lash out in anger or violence. i think she should try to run, and if she can't, she should crumble rather than explode.

- the burden of fixing things: as a means of protecting herself, blake has taken to masking her emotions and avoiding conflict at all costs. she ran away from adam and his sect of the white fang, runs away from her identity as a faunus, and hides behind a wall to protect herself. afraid to be consumed by emotion and emulate the monsters she fights against, she has to learn that apathy is more dangerous than emotion. she has to choose whether she wants to risk being hurt to help people, or risk being useless to keep herself out of harm's way.

- shadowed footprints: blake's fighting style is one of my favorites just because of how dynamic it is. however, i think that leaning into her use of kicks would allow for a powerful piece of symbolism. she literally leaves shadows behind as a part of her semblance, and she runs away from her problems a lot. but she has the potentially to do a lot of good when she decides to stand her ground. letting people in will make this task less frightening, but not any easier. in addition, i think this evolution should be accented with mixing her shadows with dust: launching frozen statues of herself at people as projectiles, running at people with flaming clones, things like that.

yang xiao long:

- ruby's older sister and the resident tank of the group, i kind of see yang like a much more concentrated version of ruby. as the older sister of a family marked by the absence of parents, she's gone through a lot. she had to step up when raven left and when summer died, and when tai was grieving. yang is kind of like katara, but instead of embracing the stricter part of maternal responsibility, she'd much rather pretend everything's fine to protect her sister from the sadness she was subjected to. yang surrounds herself with people because she's petrified of being abandoned again. she likes when people are close, and doesn't want them to leave.

- i'd call yang a herbo. not a bimbo, because she doesn't ooze traditional femininity, but a herbo because of her hard-headed and combative nature. she is hot-tempered and brash, prone to not thinking things through all the way, and being motivated by emotion rather than logic. her semblance is literally her being empowered by her anger. despite her caring nature, she tends to not think through what being ruled by emotion does to the people around her. she's more concerned with end results than the steps taken to reach them. she can push herself and others too far, and not know what she did wrong.

- controlled burn: as previously stated, yang is ruled by emotions- she fights when she's angry, cries when she's sad, and radiates joy when she's happy. however, she is often so blinded by her overwhelming emotions that she fails to consider the consequences of her actions. yang should have trouble controlling her semblance, specifically when it activates, and should burn hot and fast. combat-wise, she should ironically have the least stamina of all of her teammates, opting to take people down as quickly as possible to combat this. however, as she learns to be more considerate and thoughtful, she should be able to control her semblance. she gains the ability to burn slower, storing energy until the perfect moment to strike.

- open palms: yang punches people a lot. a lot. i think it'd be fun if she leaned into giving people slugs in the shoulder as a sign of affection. she uses her hands in combat to keep enemies away from the people she cares about. she should also use these hands to keep the people close to her nearby. grabbing people's clothing to stop them from leaving, shaking hands with friends, maybe even kissing the hand of her love interest. yang should use the same hands she clenches into fiery fists to embrace the friends and family she has.

hopefully this didn't run too long! i had a lot to say, and i hoped to articulate it in a way that made sense. if you've come this far, thank you, and feel free to send me any questions you have! i'll be covering team JNPR at some point soon, and talking about how i think the team can function as an interesting foil to team RWBY. until then, thank you again!

[quakerjoe]

American conservatism—the so-called “culture of life”—worships annihilation.

A decade ago, in my first public writing since leaving Capitol Hill, I warned that the Republican Party, in its evolution towards an extremist conservative movement allied with extremist Christian fundamentalism, was becoming like “one of the intensely ideological authoritarian parties of 20th century Europe.” After Donald Trump’s enthronement as the decider of our fate, I analyzed the GOP’s descent into a nihilism that belied every one of its supposed “values.” They value only absolute power or ruin.

It is now long past time to cast off highfalutin’ Latinisms and simply call the Republicans and their religious and secular conservative allies what they are, and in unadorned English: a death cult. As the country reels from the coronavirus pandemic, our national government might just as well be run by the infamous People’s Temple of Jonestown.

By now we are benumbed by the all-pervasive arguments over relaxing workplace shutdowns and stay-at-home orders due to coronavirus. In any sane society, the issue would be how to institute the most efficient measures to defeat the pandemic in the shortest time and with the lowest loss of life. Instead, Trump and his merry band of lunatics have hijacked the national debate into a faux-serious discussion of when, oh, please, how soon, can we “reopen the economy?” Naturally, the media gamely continue to play along with this calculated bit of dezinformatsiya.

This has led to extreme callousness, like that shown by Texas lieutenant governor Dan Patrick, who opined that grams and gramps should be eager to shuffle off this mortal coil for the sake of their grandchildren.

There is abundant empirical evidence against this notion: voters in Florida, known as “God’s waiting room” for its geriatric population, are notoriously averse to paying one cent in state income tax to fund education or child health, let alone lay down their lives. In any case, the 69-year-old Patrick, who claims he’s willing to die for his proposition, did not relinquish the burdens of his office to volunteer as an emergency room orderly.

The whole extremely well-funded edifice of “economic conservatism” is equally a death cult, worshiping Mammon so fervently that it is eager to make human sacrifice upon its altar, just like the Mayans and Carthaginians.

There’s also Congressman Trey Hollingsworth of Indiana, who put a patriotic gloss on his Malthusianism, decreeing that “it is always the American government’s position to say, in the choice between the loss of our way of life as Americans and the loss of life, of American lives, we have to always choose the latter.”

Then, striking the pose of the Serious Adult in the Room correcting mischievous children, he intoned: “It is policymakers’ decision to put on our big boy and big girl pants and say it is the lesser of these two evils.” This encapsulates the stereotype of the economic conservative: Dickens’s Thomas Gradgrind, the rigid, condescending, and heartless pedagogue.

But some pronouncements from the Trump coalition offer more ethereal rationalizations than the mere pursuit of lucre. The news is replete with stories about evangelical ministers packing their megachurches like sardine cans in defiance of state orders for social distancing, as well as contempt for common sense.

We all know about that harebrained medicine man in Louisiana, Tony Spell, already arrested for violating the state’s prohibition of large gatherings, who continues his antics nonstop. Spell, who sounds as socially responsible as a blood tick, is proclaiming his parishioners ought to choose death: “Like any revolutionary, or like any zealot, or like any pure religious person, death looks to them like a welcome friend. True Christians do not mind dying. They fear living in fear.”

So much for fundamentalists’ vaunted “culture of life,” a slogan which the prestige media never presume to critique.

For a more socially upscale version of this sentiment, let us turn to First Things, a pretentious journal of alleged theology that dresses up its non-stop shilling for the GOP with high-toned words like “numinous” and references to the philosopher Erasmus.

Last month, its editor, R.R. Reno, wrote a piece called, “Say No to Death’s Dominion.” It is an extraordinary performance. Contrary to the title, he actually argues that death should be embraced. He does this by weaving an imbecilic theology that includes falsifying the history of the 1918 flu epidemic to make his basic point:

“In our simple-minded picture of things, we imagine a powerful fear of death arises because of the brutal deeds of cruel dictators and bloodthirsty executioners. But in truth, Satan prefers sentimental humanists. We resent the hard boot of oppression on our necks, and given a chance, most will resist. How much better, therefore, to spread fear of death under moralistic pretexts.”

Oh, I get it! So Mother Teresa and Dorothy Day were more depraved than Josef Stalin! Reno ends with this:

“Fear of death and causing death is pervasive—stoked by a materialistic view of survival at any price and unchecked by Christian leaders who in all likelihood secretly accept the materialist assumptions of our age. “

This insane rant against materialism would seem to contradict the crassly materialistic assumptions underlying economic conservatives’ advocacy for letting a deadly virus “wash over” the population, as Trump would say. But these views, at first sight blatantly opposed, can be reconciled.

And who better to reconcile God and Mammon than a grifter like Jerry Falwell, Jr., ringmaster of Liberty University and testifier to Donald Trump’s status as an emissary of the Almighty? Not only has Falwell continued the school year, virtually alone among American universities, and despite pleading from students and parents to close, he has now been sued for failing to refund fees for student activities that have been suspended.

Fundamentalist preachers’ love of money is no secret: it is only by packing churches that the collection plate will yield a bounteous harvest so that their missionary work can continue – perhaps logistically aided by the purchase of a $65-million Gulfstream executive jet. And why not? It would upstage Pat Robertson, who had a mere Learjet, and a rental at that.

Political observers often wonder about the bizarre conservative coalition of plutocrats and theocrats, believing it to be unstable. But the intersection of the heartless pecuniary motives of religious and economic conservatives is no coincidence. And beneath the Ebenezer Scrooge façade of economic conservatives is the same kind of perverted idealism that we see in Tony Spell or R.R. Reno.

The most cost-efficient industrial process is one that wastes the fewest resource inputs. Likewise, internal combustion engines have evolved to get better mileage even as they pollute less. And electric motors are even more fuel efficient and less polluting.

So how do we explain conservatives’ perverse hatred of the environment, even when there are no profits at stake, as well as their tenacious denial of climate change in the face of irrefutable data? Is it not much the same as the Bible thumper who bitterly condemns stewardship of the environment as Gaia worship?

There are other similarities. Since the 1970s oil shocks (and coincident with the rise of the New Right), an abiding feature on the American scene has been the survivalist, hoping for the national Götterdämmerung that will vindicate his having stockpiled 10,000 rounds of ammunition and a horde of Krugerrands. This dovetails with fundamentalists’ weird enthusiasm for the prospect of world annihilation that animates belief in the Rapture, the only difference being the technique by which the elect avoid the mass slaughter.

Firearms fetishism and a fascination with violence, war, and armed insurrection are also mainstays of right-wing ideology, hardly distinguishable from Jerry Falwell Sr.’s, proclamation that God is Pro-War. And how about the Ultimate Fighting Jesus? The NRA neatly intersects with “muscular Christianity,” revealing both ideological kinship and some very embarrassing gender insecurities that frequently irrupt in misogyny and homosexual panic.

There is no longer the slightest doubt in any sane person’s mind that not only are the GOP’s fundamentalist-extremist religious allies a death cult disguised as 501(c)3 tax-exempt charitable organizations. The whole extremely well-funded edifice of “economic conservatism” is equally a death cult, worshiping Mammon so fervently that it is eager to make human sacrifice upon its altar, just like the Mayans and Carthaginians.

“¡Viva la Muerte!”

“Long live death!” That was the defiant cry of José Millán-Astray y Terreros, a general in Francisco Franco’s fascist army during the Spanish civil war. It could just as well suit Trump’s foot soldiers.

- Mike Lofgren is a former congressional staff member who served on both the House and Senate budget committees. His books include: “The Deep State: The Fall of the Constitution and the Rise of a Shadow Government“ and “The Party is Over: How Republicans Went Crazy, Democrats Became Useless, and the Middle Class Got Shafted.”

[mahkaria]

Of novelists and strays dogs - Chapter one

The angel at the top of the bridge :

In Yokohama’s dark streets walked a man. None of his physical traits particularly caught attention. Curly chocolate hair and a symmetrical face. Some could have called him handsome if not for the almost sadistic grin he carried.

No one could have guessed this young was actually one of the most feared executive of the Port Mafia coming back from a mission.

His day had been exhausting and as it was often the case after this kind of day, a thick oppressive mist had invaded his mind. Without thinking, his steps led him to a bridge.

Under the moonlight, the streaming water had the appearance of melted silver. It shifted and slidded as if under the influence of a snake charmer.

“How beautiful.” He whispered, mesmerised by this spectacle.

Without thinking anymore, he let his feets leave the ground. The last thing he saw before hitting the liquid were two golden eyes.

Nakajima Atsushi had been spending a perfectly nice evening. After finishing his work for today, he had decided to go out in order to refresh his mind and seek inspiration for the next day.

It would be days before the moon show the entirety of its pale beauty. No reason to worry about any furry problems…

A few months before, he could have barely imagined life could be so pleasant. No physical or verbal abuse and the possibility to do what he liked most.

As he strolled in the streets, he often wondered if he truly deserved what had happened to him. Sometimes, during the night, he barely managed to keep the cruel voice out.

Those nights, Kunikida-senpai always answered his phone and talked to him until sleep claimed him.

He sighed softly and focused once again on what was around him.

Students were coming back from the university and employees were going out from bars. They emitted happiness like the sun emits light. Sometimes, Atsushi liked imagining how their life went.

However, this time, he needed a calm place in order to progress on his work. He still remembered the bridge, the first place of Yokohama he had seen. That’s where he decided to go.

His apartment wasn’t so far from his goal and a few minutes were sufficient to reach it.

He sat on the border, took out his notebook and started writing.

Or at least he tried.

Footsteps caught his attention. He lifted his head.

A man stood there, a bit older than Atsushi himself.

He then proceeded to jump into the river…

Wait what?

Atsushi stood up like a spring as a splashing sound made itself heard.

What’s just happened?

Then :

This man needs help.

He jumped. 

Water cradled him like a loving mother. He felt himself drown slowly.

Goodbye, oxygen, you’ll no longer burn my lungs.

Gravity pushed him toward the river’s bed which would soon also be his if things went his way. How ironic for gravity to be one of the cause of his death. Chuuya would be proud.

I don’t want to think about the hatrack during my lovely suicide, Dazai decided quickly.

Breathing became more difficult. His body froze and burnt at the same time.

It would soon be over.

Soon.

Soon.

Until it no longer was.

Slim yet strong arms caught him and took him away from Death’s soft lips, carrying him back to the riverbank and life.

A kid ? was his first thought.

Then : Damn, I was so close this time.

He allowed himself to fall asleep.

Atsushi didn’t know anything about medicine and first aid techniques, yet he could say with almost total certainty that the man was alive. His chest rose slowly as if he was only taking a nap. In his relief, he barely cared about all the bandages which covered the man.

What am I supposed to do ? Maybe I should call Kunikida-senpai ? He might know what to do…

Just as those thoughts formed, the man (teenager? Did teenagers wear obviously very expensive suits?) opened his eyes. He blinked slowly and rose.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“I am… still alive? Why?”

“What- What do you mean “why”?”

Cinnamon coloured eyes turned their attention to him.

“Are you the one who saved me boy?”

Atsushi’s whole body hurt. Holding someone bigger than him had stolen a good part of his stamina. His clothes stuck to him in quite an unpleasant manner. He nodded softly.

“Aren’t you quite a little annoying stray?”

His tone was soft and calm but Atsushi felt ice bite his skin. This man, he…

Just as frost appeared, it melted away. Instead of the cold cruelty his eyes had carried, they now held a genuine curiosity.

“What were you doing here ? Were you also trying to commit suicide?”

“What, no ! Wait - suicide?”

“Quite eloquent, I see… Anyway, boy, shouldn’t you be home at this hour? Something unpleasant could happen to you.”

He barely bit back his comment “Are you going to hurt me?” and didn’t say anything. Shivers ran through his body. If he hadn’t been afraid of the consequences, he would have run away. For a moment, they both stared at each other like two statues.

After a while, the man smiled.

“It was quite rude of myself, wasn’t it? Insulting you after you bothered rescuing me. Can I pay you back in any way?”

Being polite had always been an obligation to Atsushi. A consequence of his often timid nature and of the orphanage.

The other part of himself still yelled at him to escape. All his predatory instincts deserting in front of someone who hadn’t even reached adulthood.

“There is no need, sir.”

A bright grin settled on the other’s face. Like a cat who just caught a bird, Atsushi couldn’t help but think.

“Are you sure?”

As he was about to agree, his stomach betrayed him and growled. They both were silent.

“May I buy something to eat?”

“You don’t need to.”

“Don’t be like that, boy, I’m going to think you’re scared of me. You’re not, aren’t you?” He smirked.

Now, he looked at him like a scientist curious to see how his experiment would turn out. In front of his hesitation, his smile (if it was possible) grew wider.

“Of course not, sir, I just need to go get my bag at the top of the bridge.”

“I’ll wait. Don’t run away, okay?”

“O-of course !”

The kid was funny, Dazai decided. A jumpy little thing who tried to appear brave. He liked it. A good person who didn’t want to hurt anyone, be it physically or emotionally.

This kind of person was rare to come upon, even in the world of light. He hadn’t exactly planned to torture him (the word was a tad too strong to describe his behaviour) but come on - he had failed his suicide and had nothing else to do to purge his mind of everything.

What should he have done ?

Behave ?

Boring ~

He led the kid toward Lupin’s and used this time to watch him. Silver - almost white - hair which fell on his shoulders and golden eyes. Puberty still hadn’t hit him. How young was he exactly? Dazai had never been good at determining someone’s age. He only dubbed people in two categories “useful” and “useless”.

He still wasn’t sure in which category he was going to put the kid.

Shivers and sneezes shook Atsushi. That’s not how he had expected to spend his evening. Following a stranger in an area of the city he had never explored wasn’t exactly a part of his plan.

“Excuse me, s-sir -”

“Name is Dazai.”

“Dazai-san, where are we going ?”

“Somewhere I like spending times to. Don’t worry I’m not going to kidnap you.”

Saying it aloud wasn’t really reassuring but it was too late to go back. He had the intuition running away from Dazai wouldn’t be possible as long as the teen focused on him.

They arrived to a dark alley and went into it. Things didn’t seem to improve.

In front of him, a sign where Lupin’s was written. It had been washed away  by time and rain and thus had adopted a upsetting yellowish colour.

“Let’s go inside, then !” Dazai announced cheerfully.

They started walking downstairs. Muffled voices could be heard but some in particular seemed to increase Dazai’s already excited mood.

“So they are here tonight ! This night is getting more and more interesting.”

They arrived to a poorly lit room where few people were chatting. However, only those at the counter seemed to interest the strange man he had just met. Next to them stood a calico cat, busy cleaning itself.  

“Odasaku ! Ango ! I brought us a new drinking buddy.”

This is not going to happen, Atsushi quickly decided. Maybe if he slipped away now that Dazai no longer looked at him… However, the cat didn’t want to stop playing with his prey. A bandaged arm encircled his shoulders and brought him in front of the two men.

The first one, a severe almost austere man with round glasses stared at him.

“Dazai-kun, he is a child. He can’t drink alcohol.”

“Nonsense ! I had already started drinking at his age !”

This time a mischievous smile had settled. He didn’t really believe what he was saying, he only wanted to provoc the other. A new mask had appeared. Atsushi wondered how many of those he had.

Ravenous, mirthful and playful. How many facets did his personality have?

Maybe thinking about it would only end up in an headache. Some people were like water, no matter how long you spent you’d never be able to totally get them.

As lost as he was in his thoughts, he took quite a while to really see the other man. Wine coloured hair and an almost aloof expression.

“Good evening, sir.” He stuttered.

“Call me, Odasaku.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Atsushi bowed.

“Not fair, Odasaku has already activated his overprotective mother hen mode.” Dazai winced.

“What’s your name?” Oda continued, obviously used to Dazai’s antics.

“So that’s what I forgot to ask him !”

“You brought him here without asking his name, Dazai-kun !”

“Ango is scary when he wants to be. ~”

“I’m Nakajima Atsushi.”

Odasaku smiled softly. His blue eyes shone gently.

“Do you want to eat something? This bar doesn’t have a wide variety of food, maybe we should go to a restaurant... “

He often forgot to eat, still not quite used to have access to food. The fact his deadline was approaching didn’t help.

“Odasaku ! Don’t steal him away, I’m the one who said I’d buy him something to eat.”

He had for Dazai the kind of strong affection and tolerance a  person would have for a younger sibling.

“Nakajima-kun, won’t your parents worry if you don’t get home soon?”

He didn’t know how much he should tell them but in reaction to Oda’s encouraging expression he found himself saying :

“There are no risks. I don’t have parents.”

Moment of silence.

“Well, Odasaku sure is going to adopt him now.”

“Are you living with relatives, then?”

“No, I- I have no idea who my family is. I’m living in a small apartment.”

“Really, how are you paying for it?”

His answers  had revived Dazai’s curiosity or maybe it had just been put on hold for a moment.

“I have a job.”

“Aren’t you a bit too young?”

“I-”

“No, don’t say anything, I’m sure I can guess what you do, Atsushi-kun.”

Why had such a joyful person tried to take his own life?

Don’t be an idiot. Do you really think depressed people wear a distinctive sign?

Depressed? Could he be ?

“You probably can.” Oda agreed. Then to Atsushi : “You should sit, no point in staying up.”

“I definitely can’t fail if Odasaku has faith in me. Well then, let’s get started, you’re quite a scrawny kid so probably not a physical job. Not a governmental job, no matter how hypocritical they are, they wouldn’t appoint someone underage. So, something linked to entertainment, isn’t it ?”

“You’re right.”

Him, being smart was hardly surprising. Someone who had played him as if he was a mere musical instrument couldn’t be totally stupid.

“It’s legal, I presume ?”

“Dazai-kun…” Ango warned him.

The fact he even had to ask told him more than he wanted to know about Dazai’s line of work.

“Can you sing, Atsushi-kun?”

“I’m a writer, or at least that’s the closest word to describe what I do.”

He wrote books, they seemed to be successful but he didn’t know why, so yes, it was a pretty good way to describe it.

“Really?”

This time, it was Odasaku, not Dazai who had spoken.

“Do you like reading, Oda-san?”

“Yes, I’d also like to write if I can, one day.”

“I’m sorry if it comes out as rude, but, why don’t you do it now?”

“I don’t deserve to write about life, not for the moment.”

“Writing isn’t about deserving something. I would never have been able to if it had been the case.”

A new staring contest was his answer. Maybe, he should have kept quiet.

“I’m sorry, I should take my leave.”

He stood up but as he was going to walk away, his feet came into contact with soft fur.

The ground met his face far too quickly for him to react.

Hurg.

Could this situation even worsen?

“Are you alright, Nakajima?”

“Yes, Ango-san. Thank you.”

“Should we go outside ? A bit of fresh air will help.”

“Please, don’t bother. I’m perfectly fine.”

The cat softly purred against his legs, unaware of the stir he had just caused. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Let’s get you something to eat.”

“I’m the one who invited him. Don’t steal him away.” Dazai pouted once again.

“Then, we should go somewhere where you can buy him something.”

“There is a good restaurant two streets away.” Ango said.

As he was busy listening to them, he didn’t notice the cat playing with his bag. Only when what it contained fell loudly on the ground did he realize it.

“Is that Tsukishiro Ren’s novel? Did you take inspiration from his work?” Oda asked.

“O ! Odasaku went into his fanboy mode.”

“His stories are good.” The older explained.

“I read a few of his short stories. It can be a bit hard to read per moment but it’s really interesting.”

Atsushi felt his cheeks burn. Getting praises hadn’t become any easier.

He inhaled deeply but it helped as much as pouring oil on a wildfire. A part of him hoped they hadn’t noticed his reaction. Yet, even after such a short amount of time, he had the strong impression nothing could escape Dazai.

“Interesting.” Dazai merely said.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems you finally got to meet one of your favorite authors, Odasaku.”

Fa- favorite author? I’ve only published two short stories collections !

“You’re Tsukishiro-sensei, Atsushi-kun?”

“Please don’t call me “sensei”.” He blushed.

If Ango still seemed doubtful, it wasn’t Oda’s case. He had merely accepted the fact that a well known author happened to be a twelve years old child.

It must be nearly impossible to shock him, Atsushi concluded.

“If Dazai says he is, it’s probably true.” Oda added.

“Still, he is far too young, how old are you exactly?”

“I’m twelve.”

“That’s what I mean, how could he- Are you some kind of genius?”

“I’m really not.”

He’d always remember. Those lonely days he’d spend, doing nothing but chores and how imagining stories had been the only way to live. To go further away than survival.

How it had helped him to keep his already severely wounded humanity. To remain sane.

You couldn’t spend your days doing one activity and not at least get a little good at it.

Oda-san nodded softly and led them outside.

“So what do you want to eat?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Come on ! You must have a favorite kind of food.” Dazai pushed him, putting back his arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry about money.”

“I-I wou- wouldn’t mind ochazuke.”

A soft chuckle escaped Dazai.

“Ochazuke it is ! I hope you both don’t mind.”

“Not really.” Ango answered.

“I don’t really care.”

“Let’s go then, it would be a shame if such an interesting kid died of hunger after all.”

Interesting?

Why did this word seem to foreshadow awful things?

Before this moment, Dazai had barely paid attention to Tsukishiro Ren. He had heard about him from the slug and Ane-san but hadn’t cared. Why would a novice novelist interest him? He would probably disappear in a few months as it was often the case. The entertainment world could sometimes be as merciless as the mafia’s.

Yet, he had to admit his surprise. For such a young and bland person to be an emerging celebrity. It definitely deserved a place in the “useful” category.

He looked at him, at Nakajima Atsushi and how he tried to convince Odasaku he didn’t need a fifth bowl of ochazuke. A useless battle really, his slimness had condemned him to be taken care of by the assassin.

Ane-san liked describing his short stories as “bittersweet”, how they captured the darkness of the world without removing hope. Despite her so-called hatred for this feeling, the woman would always have a romantic heart and be sensible to the subject.

The dwarf liked them for how dynamic and epic they could be. He couldn’t hide his enthusiasm when a new story was published.

Maybe he could advantage of it.

“Atsushi-kun, would you mind signing me one of your book?”

“Of course not, Dazai-san.”

Ango sneaked a suspicious glance. He must have guessed what he wanted.

“I only have this exemplar, though, and it isn’t in its best shape.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem !”

The boy took out his fountain pen and quickly wrote in it before giving it to Dazai.

“I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will !”

After this, the meal quickly came to an end.

As Atsushi was about to walk home, Oda interrupted him. In his hand stood a paper with number on it.

“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate, I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, Oda-san.”

“And I’d like to thank you for what you said sooner.”

“It’s nothing. I look forward to the day I’ll be able to read one of your story, Oda-san.”

An almost shy smile bloomed on the man’s face.

“Maybe I’ll send you one of my draft. If they can be given this name.”

“Thank you. I’ll make sure of reading it.”

“Have a good night, Nakajima. Please be careful on your way home.”

“I will. Good night.”

Dazai stood on his bed, wide awake. Once again, sleep had deserted him. How pleasant it would be to fall asleep forever. To finally get away from this overwhelming exhaustion…

He closed his eyes but still nothing. How he loved insomnia... Well, better not waste time on this endeavor.

He stared for a moment at the book he had brought back. Why not after all? He was bored and at least, he’d learn more about the kid.

He opened it and started reading

[aweebwrites]

Unseen

Cole sat at the edge of the Bounty, feet hanging over the edge as he looked down. They were flying towards Ninjago City to stop some vigilante serpentine reeking havoc on the city. If he hadn't almost throttled Kai, they wouldn't have let him come along. The thing is, he always had pretty awful vision which he certainly hadn't told the others about. It wasn't a hindrance or anything since his powers made up for that. He could sense the lightest footstep just by keeping contact with the ground or a wall after all.

But the problem came when his vision kept worsening and he still hadn't told anyone. Finally, one day, he woke up blind. He didn't panic. He wasn't surprised after all. In fact, he was expecting it, which is why he had been practising to do things without the use of his sight. It was fine. He went on an entire month without them noticing though he had to stop playing video games with Kai and the others. What gave him away was yesterday when walked straight into Zane who heading outside. That wasn't the give away however. It was when Zane had reached a quiet hand down to help him but since he hadn't made a sound the entire time, he hadn't known he was there and had muttered 'Who put that there’ and sat up straight into Zane's outstretched hand, giving him a nice lump on the forehead.

“Cole, are you…” Zane had said softly and Cole had tensed, knowing he was busted.

“Sorry! I was sleepwalking.” He had tried to play it off but Zane was smart.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Zane had asked and Cole had sweat something fierce.

“Two?” Cole guessed and he could practically hear Zane frown.

“I'm not holding up any fingers.” Zane had said, the concern in his voice palpable. “How long have you been blind Cole?” He had asked and Cole had lost all colour from his face.

What made worse was Kai's shocked 'what?’ to his far right.

Everything was a mess after that. A lot of yelling, a lot of hurt, a lot of worry- everything. It was even worse when he had snapped and told them he'll been fine for over a month now. They were all horrified. He had fought with them several times over that past month, against several dangerous enemies. He could have been killed in one slip up, Kai had yelled but Cole had snapped back, reminding him that even with vision, the risks were the same. Sensei Wu had ordered them to stop arguing on the past and focus on the future. He had told them that with or without sight, he was one of them and instead of oppressing him because he couldn't see, they should work together to strengthen his techniques and to aid him.

The word aid had grated on him rawly but he knew now that there was no escape from it. Zane had promised to teach him Braille so he could read still and while he wasn't a reading type, the idea did sound appealing. Cole sighed, feeling the vibrations of each of their footsteps through the woodwork of the Bounty under his hands. Each of them were different and he could tell them apart easily. Right now, Lloyd and Jay were getting close to where he was.

“Cole!” Jay yelled after gasping, rushing over to him.

“Keep your socks on, I'm fine.” Cole huffed, swatting his hands away when he went to pull him away from the edge.

“Cole's right Jay. He knows what he's doing.” Lloyd told him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know… That's what worries me.” Jay whispered but Cole heard.

He chose to ignore it.

“Anyway, we just wanted you to know we're almost there so it's time to grab our weapons.” Lloyd continued, looking at Cole's back to them.

“Ok.” Cole said then grunted as he got up before walking past them to the inside.

Because of his inability to see, things have changed amongst them all. He hated that. He wasn't invalid and when he rebuffed their attempts to help him do things he was perfectly fine doing on his own (such as walking), he knew they were hurt and it made him feel bad but he wasn't completely useless! They're the ones who are blind to that. He clenched fist as he walked with purpose, walking around Nya who shifted to step out of his way. He may not be able to see but he’ll make sure his part on the team, his worth, won't go unseen.

______________

(Hi! So here's a lil ficlet of mah boi Cole but blind. Why do i love to make these boys suffer? I have no clue. Hope you liked it! *Tap dances away*)

[stretchjournalemerson]

One Bible Quote Pocket Knife Away From An Existential Crisis

By Jenna Reilly

For four years, from ages eight to twelve, I played in a bowling league two towns from mine at Patchogue Bowling Alley each Wednesday night from four o’clock to five thirty. The bowling alley was running down with half-seventies, half-nineties era technology and upholstery that smelt of pretzels and old carpet. But I enjoyed myself every time I went because I found that I really liked to bowl. The satisfaction of the pins crashing down from the force of the ball or the calculations needed for the perfect aim to knock down the last few pins, etc., I found much joy in the sport. I played with the same two to three boys, some varying as the years went on. Though I never got too close with them, an imaginary rivalry sprung in my head. I thought I kept it secret, but I definitely made gloating faces when I won or acted like nothing was wrong when I had lost without realizing it.

At one point, I wanted to win so bad that I began to pray to God to get strikes or win games. Not to say I didn’t work on my technique and actual skill in the game, but I used to literally pray to win when that didn’t seem to work. Thinking back, I don’t know why I thought that it would. I must have thought God worked in ways that he really didn’t, because when I didn’t win, and I found that my praying for bowling was useless, instead of questioning whether praying for sports was reasonable, I questioned why God wasn’t helping. I do not know if it was reason or lack thereof as a child, but I began to question what everyone was telling me about God. When I was twelve, I had to quit the league because Confirmation classes started for my church which were on Wednesday nights.

In my Confirmation classes, in a room filled with children’s toys within the part of the church that doubled as a preschool, we learned of men hearing signs from God, Noah’s ark filled with two of every animal in the world, and more. Our Pastor would give us sodas and snacks as he told us lessons and words from the Bible and how they could relate to our lives. Though we never discussed hot button issues like LGBTQ+ and God’s view of them or abstinence which I thought we would, that was probably for the best considering my soon-to-be-discovered sexuality.

These classes originally started two years before we were supposed to be Confirmed. Three months before our holy day, our Pastor said we would be going to classes for half a year more instead. With no explanation or reason given to us, we were all pretty confused and aggravated, but still went on.

One other requirement along with Confirmation classes was that we had to attend pretty much every Sunday mass in our little, old white church. We all did, except for my friend Ben who barely went to class nor church for the last year and a half of our Confirmation studies. This bothered my other friends and I who spent literally countless hours in that church or its classrooms. Surely what is right and fair will prevail, I thought, this is God we’re talking about, right?

Well there I was on Confirmation day with Ben and the rest of us, getting Confirmed for God. Remembering the endless hours of masses and events we all had to go through together, they all seemed rather pointless then with Ben standing there as well in the parish hall on a brisk Sunday morning in fall. I was wearing a lace-lined white dress with my black slip-on concert shoes, which hurt very badly due to my pre-existing blisters from the required Confirmation hike we went on two weeks prior. I was at the peak of the awkward stages of puberty at fourteen years old with my braces and straightened, yet still frizzy, blonde hair.

The whole congregation of my fellow church members came today with some added extended family members of the confirmands, as my pastor called us. We sat in the nicer portable fabric-covered chairs awaiting the ceremony. I was nervous that I would trip and fall or recite something incorrectly, I did not want to mess up the day we had waited so long for. But the service started and after thirty minutes and some godly songs we were called up with our immediate families.

We all stood on the sandy, gym-like wooden floor in front of the white and brown altar and five-foot cross hanging above it. Our families stood behind us, my proud Mom behind me, tearing up, and my Dad, also proud but a little less passionately, at her side. While my Mom is semi-religious, my Dad claims that the church will cave in if he steps foot inside. My Dad’s mom was very active in my church, many of the older members would speak of her and my Dad’s family very fondly to me. I did not know much of her devotion to God, though years after her death, some of her hand-made holiday decorations were still on display during my time at the church. My Dad said he had to go to mass each Sunday growing up, though he did not care much for it. And usually following in his Father’s footsteps, he has told me that my Grandpa coined the statement about the church collapsing with his presence.

As my pastor spoke, I kept feeling for an extra holy presence, which I didn’t quite find but also did not really expect. He’s always here regardless, I thought to myself. Well, maybe.

We each swore our oaths and we were suddenly Confirmed. All of that and it was over, great, I optimistically thought.

We finished up the ceremony and started to head out after our celebratory breakfast luncheon when my pastor gave us each a bag of gifts. One of them being a cross and another being a pocket knife with a bible quote. I loved the pocket knife but that seemed kind of weird to me - get Confirmed - receive a pocket knife. I guess I should have expected the unexpected when it came to this entire experience.

When I was home that night in my room, next to me a wooden cross with a brass Jesus hung on the wall by my Mom, I contemplated the day and everything that led up to it. I had to sit through two and a half years of Confirmation classes and Sunday services and then go on a required hiking retreat in the upstate mountains of New York, all while Ben missed out on most all of it, to gain an already pre-existing misunderstood concept of prayer and God and a pocket knife after some ritual of Confirmed faith? Something wasn’t adding up in my brain. This did not seem like what I thought religion was.

Back then, I would have never considered that God was not real, especially on my Confirmation day, but I did not see many logical reasons behind why my life was going how it was meanwhile God was supposed to take care of me. Now I knew things could have been much worse and I knew I was very lucky to have the life I did, but things have not always been sunshine and flowers for me. So I questioned, why would God make it that way? I wasn’t a bad kid . . . right?

I was taught to ask God for forgiveness for wrongdoing to prevent bad things from happening, so I asked and prayed. He was always supposed to forgive us, so why were things still going the way they were? Why did two of my grandparents get taken from me when I was a child? What did I do wrong back then? Why do people get to cheat their way out of things and still get the prize at the end like Ben? Why was my hard work and effort in attending two years of church and class rewarded with another half a year at the last minute? Why did I have to go hiking and get blisters on my feet to get confirmed and be accepted by God? Everything might be even more simpler than we all think it is, but if that is the case, then what is the purpose of it all if it’s not for God?

My religious journey was nothing I took too seriously for too long. Only for a few years in childhood was I devout, but I never thought much of it as it faded away, only remembering that I did not have the best experience getting Confirmed. I had many childish reasonings and ramblings that led to my questioning of faith. But sitting here now, open to any interpretation of life (personally favoring the one that we all just simply exist within scientific fact), I wonder how “wrong” I was at such a young age to question.

I grew up and at the age of fifteen I realized I was bisexual. It took a lot to overcome the internalized homophobia within myself to realize who I was. But once I did, I started to gain confidence within my sexuality and myself that I never had before. I am glad my church did not take a stance on it during my time there because it may have made my acceptance even harder, though I assumed most religions were against it. Realizing my sexuality solidified my questioning nature of God and (mainly) the major organized religions such as Christianity or the Protestant branches which I grew up under.

New questions began to unravel my ideas of God and such religions. If God loves all His creations, then why are people like me considered sinners to the church? Why was I born like this and then destined for a horrible life of discrimination and oppression? Why did I have to hate myself for fifteen years before somehow learning to like what God apparently hates of me?

Without my questioning of faith, I might still hate myself for who I naturally am. I didn’t know who I was then, but I’m grateful now that I questioned it all at such a young age to follow the path that I personally needed to. Maybe everything went wrong for the right reasons in the end.

Naturally, this all led to the loss of God as my answer to everything. Why we suffer, die, love, endure, exist, etc. So within that came a desire to have a reason for it all, which is a natural human reaction to life, and that is why so many people turn to religion. It is much simpler to live your life for God than to find a reason yourself, it seems.

Relying on God is a valuable tool when it comes to the hard things in life. That’s why it has been so popular for thousands of years: because life is not the kindest! Think about all of the people who worked their whole lives for minimum reward except the love and grace of God for their devotion and (hopefully) a one way ticket to heaven. Now, take away God and heaven from that equation, if that is all they focused on, what else did they have to live for?

If I did not have God to live for, then I needed another reason. Once I stopped relying on Him to guide me to my purpose and meaning, I felt lost in it all when things got difficult. But over time and through my experiences, I learned my own lessons of what life can provide and what I could try to make out of it. I saw love for my friends and family, passion for my interests and hobbies, confidence in who I was, the beauty of the world around me, and so much more. The hard parts of life became a little bit more blissful when I saw the brighter side of what I could make of my existence.

So when I began to question: why is this happening to me, to all of us? What is the purpose of my life? I realized that I am not completely sure, nobody truly knows. But over time, I discovered that maybe my life could be whatever I wanted to make of it.

Acknowledgements

I am very grateful for what Professor Armour has taught me about memoirs. I had not written many memoirs before Research Writing, I was more of a fan of realistic fiction and I was used to that form of storytelling. But after reading examples and studying what distinguishes a memoir from other pieces of writing, I discovered the impact they could have. This piece specifically allowed me to process many feelings from my experiences with the church and beyond. I never truly analyzed my experiences and their effects on me until I spewed it all out on a page and wrote my memoir. Professor Armour allowed me to discover a new form of analysis within my own life through writing, and I am very grateful for it.

[allenmendezsr]

Talking To Toddlers: Dealing With The Terrible Twos And Beyond

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Talking To Toddlers: Dealing With The Terrible Twos And Beyond

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    FREE Toddler Parenting Tips Presentation: Unusual Tips to Effective Parenting

How to deal with behaviour problems in children by Chris Thompson – Author, Parenting Expert and Certified NLP Practitioner

In this FREE presentation below, you’ll learn:

The only real reason your kids are not already well behaved.

The way most parents talk to their kids, causing them to do exactly what you don’t want

The crucial emotional bridge you MUST establish with your child before you try to change their behavior.

The one word you are probably abusing, which triggers those awful temper tantrums

Watch this FREE video for important tips on how you can best communicate with your child and deals with your toddler’s behavior

4 Facts You MUST Understand if you are Ever Going to Effectively Deal with the Terrible Twos or Children Behavior Problems

Behavior is driven by Emotion, NOT Logic. This is fundamental to everything, including understanding toddler behavior. Behavior, for any person of any age, is determined by their emotional state. People ACT from their emotions, and they later JUSTIFY their actions with logic. But small kids don’t have the ability to use logic, so they act purely from emotion. Keep this in mind when dealing with behavior in toddlers.

We tend to overuse the word “No” when we talk to our kids. This causes problems with toddler behavior. You remember the story of the boy who cried wolf, right? The little shepherd boy was bored while watching the sheep so he decided to cry wolf and make the villagers come running. Before long, they stopped responding to his false cries. When a parent cries “No” at every little thing, kids stop listening. The parent’s cries fade into the background. Behaviour problems in children can stem from this caveat. I’ll teach you multiple ways to get what you want without screaming “NO” at your child – and it simply works better!

If you want to have any chance at all of influencing your toddler’s behavior, you MUST have rapport first. Rapport simply means having an emotional connection to another person. I’ll show you how you can learn LOTS of ways to create this crucial emotional bridge before you deal with children behaviour problems.

Before we get to #4 if you didn’t do it already, make sure you sign up to get my free audio lesson teaching you 3 powerful language techniques you can use to inspire better behavior right now!

Discover 3 Language Strategies You can Use Right Now for Better Child Behavior

Free Audio Lesson for Visiting ($9.95 value)

Just enter your first name and email below and the Free Audio Lesson will be instantly emailed to you. You’ll discover:

Learn this simple way to improve your success rate at getting your kids to listen and do as you ask.

Discover the biggest common language mistake parents make. This mistake is actually causing your kids to do the opposite of what you want.

Find out what technique most parents use far too often, making it almost completely useless. When you fix this mistake you’re going to get much better results!

You’ll also receive a FREE subscription to my parenting tips newsletter ($47 value). The tips I send out are very different than anything you’ve seen. Thousands of parents have experienced the difference they make!

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Language is a powerful tool and there are a bunch of tactics you need to learn to create the outcomes you want. Here’s a specific tip: Use positive language instead of negative language. This is explained in detail either in the free audio lesson above, and in the video presentation.

Watch This FREE presentation with Toddler Parenting Tips for the Terrible Twos and Beyond.

What our Customers are saying

“It’s become integrated into my day to day”

Dave provided an audio testimonial that I think does a wonderful job of describing exactly the type of problem that Talking to Toddlers solves. Dave speaks clearly about how he was looking for a toddler-specific program that he and his wife could use together, along with a specific experience of how Talking to Toddlers worked for him. If you catch yourself nodding in agreement with Dave’s way of thinking then you will love Talking to Toddlers.

Dave Valentine Winnipeg, Canada

“Your Guide is Almost Like a Magic Bullet”

Chris, I recently purchased your “Talking to Toddlers” mp3 and it was fantastic! Literally, this is not an exaggeration, but the same day I first tried presuppositions and double-binds, I saw a change in my relationship with my 2 year old son. In the week following, whereas before our relationship largely consisted of Dad the enforcer and toddler the oppressed (with lots of feelings of guilt and lots of tears respectively), we became closer, happier, and I really feel good about being a Dad now. Especially since I have the tools for guiding my son, but at the same time honoring his inherent rights to dignity and self-determination magic bullet. I continue to work through your lessons and apply the tools they provide.

Kelly Goyer Saskatoon, Canada

“Using the Techniques and LOVE Them”

Thank you for the toddler tips! I laughed in agreement as I read your most recent tip, which mentions Milton Erickson (whom I studied about as a Psychology major in college) and hypnotic commands. I know these things work. I am using the techniques you have been emailing me and LOVE THEM, they are working with my 3-yr-old boy. I strongly believe in power of suggestion and I am familiar with NLP, just hadn’t thought about it the way you presented it and I will now be telling my son stories using this technique.I can’t wait to hear all your other tips!

Regina Saskatoon, Canada

Here’s a great article I wrote on using distraction to change child behavior. I explain many of the subtleties involved, which I think you’ll enjoy. It’s a great example of a situation where a great day can start to turn sour because one kid gets bored and starts bugging a sibling. This is one of those situations that often results in a parent yelling at the child to behave better, and somebody usually ends up in tears by the end of the ordeal. No fun. Here’s another article I wrote that explains one important language technique you can use right now to influence the behavior of toddlers. I encourage all parents to read this. This material completely changes the way you look at parenting toddlers. Dealing with problem toddler behavior is one thing. But if you think longer term, you probably want your kids to have confidence, right? This article on raising self confident children was immensely popular.

I’ve also written another article called Three Year Old Behavior that has generated a huge number of comments from readers. It goes through many of the most common toddler parenting issues you are probably facing. By learning the tools that I teach, you’ll start to learn how to solve these types of parenting problems easily, without thinking about it. Then you’ll say to yourself, “How cool … I can actually DO this stuff”. It feels good.

“You Have Changed My Boy And My Life”

Chris – I bought your audio course two weeks ago. Let me tell you that you are my hero! I have a boy who is nearly 3 and he was driving me crazy to the point where I thought I failed as a mum. I’m only on lesson 6 and my boy is changing in front of my eyes. Your strategies really work and to my surprise when I test them on adults they work too! Thank you very much. You have changed my boy and my life on the whole.

-Doris (from Malta)

If you’re not already a subscriber of my FREE Parenting Tips Newsletter, make sure to sign up below to get all of my unique parenting tips with a special emphasis on how to use language and smart thinking to overcome child behavior problems, and more:

Free Tips for Parenting Toddlers & the Terrible Twos

Discover the one word that causes tantrums Learn how you’re making your child do the opposite of what you ask Understand this crucial step to getting your child to behave

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Intelligent Assistants Have Poor Usability: A User Study of Alexa, Google Assistant, and Siri

The holy grail of usability is to build an interface that requires zero interaction cost: being able to fulfill users’ needs without having them do anything. While interface design is still far from reading people’s minds, intelligent assistants such as Alexa, Google Assistant, and Siri are one step in that direction.

UI Characteristics

The intelligent computer-based assistants combine 5 fundamental user-interface technologies:

Voice input: commands are spoken instead of issued through typing or clicking/tapping graphical items.

Natural-language understanding: users are not restricted to using a specific, computer-optimized vocabulary or syntax, but can structure their input in many ways, just as they would do in human conversation.

Voice output: instead of displaying information on a screen, the assistant reads it out loud.

Intelligent interpretation: the assistant utilizes additional information (such as context or past behaviors), besides the user’s literal input, to estimate what the user wants.

Agency: the assistant does actions that the user hasn’t requested, but which the computer undertakes on its own.

Both intelligent interpretation and agency require that assistants actively learn about the user and be able to modify their behavior in the service of the user.

Thus, when evaluating the user experience of intelligent assistants, we need to consider 6 issues: each of the 5 technologies, plus their integration.

The idea of integrating a bundle of UI technologies isn’t new. The same principle is behind the most popular style of graphical user interfaces (GUIs), called WIMP for “windows–icons–menus–pointing device”. You can have windows without a mouse (use Alt-Tab) or a mouse without icons (click on words), but the full set generates a nicely integrated GUI that has offered good usability for more than 30 years.

Not all assistants use all 5 UI technologies at all times: for example, if a screen is available, assistants may use visual output instead of voice output. However, the 5 technologies support and augment each other when they are smoothly integrated. For instance, voice commands, like the traditional command-based interaction style, have an inherent usability weakness compared to clicking (they rely on some amount of recall, whereas clicking and direct manipulation involve recognition), but natural language may potentially make composing a command less arduous than clicking an icon.

Integrating the 5 UI techniques promises an interaction style with two advantages:

It can short-circuit the physical interface and simply allow users to formulate their goal in natural language. Although speaking does involve an interaction cost, in theory this cost is smaller than learning a new UI, pressing buttons, and making selections.

It can infer users’ goals and be proactive about them by offering appropriate suggestions based on contextual information or prior user behavior. This second aspect is in fact closer to “reading our minds.”

Contextual suggestions are still fairly limited with today’s assistants, although small steps are taken in that direction — Google Assistant parses email and adds flights or restaurant reservations to calendars; and both Siri and Google Assistant warn users of the time it takes to get to a frequent destination once they leave a location. When these contextual suggestions are appropriate, they seamlessly progress users towards their goals.

User Research

To better understand what challenges these assistants pose today and where they help users, we ran two usability studies (one in New York City and one in the San Francisco Bay Area). A total of 17 participants — 5 in New York, 12 in California — who were frequent users of at least one of the major intelligent assistants (Alexa, Google Assistant, and Siri) were invited into the lab for individual sessions. Each session consisted of a combination of usability testing (in which participants completed facilitator-assigned tasks using Alexa, Google Assistant, or Siri) and an interview.

During the usability-testing portion of the study, we asked participants to use the assistants to complete a variety of tasks, ranging from simple (e.g., weather for the 4th of July weekend, pharmacy hours for a nearby Walgreens, when George Clooney was born) to more complicated (e.g., the year when Stanley Kubrick’s second to last movie was made, traffic to Moss Beach during the weekend).

This article summarizes our main findings. A second article will discuss the social dimension of the interaction with intelligent assistants.

Results: Delivered Usability Grossly Inferior to Promised Usability

Our user research found that current intelligent assistants fail on all 6 questions (5 technologies plus integration), resulting in an overall usability level that’s close to useless for even slightly complex interactions. For simple interactions, the devices do meet the bare minimum usability requirements. Even though it goes against the basic premise of human-centered design, users have to train themselves to understand when an intelligent assistant will be useful and when it’s better to avoid using it.

Our ideology has always been that computers should adapt to humans, not the other way around. The promise of AI is exactly one of high adaptability, but we didn’t see that that when observing actual use. In contrast, observing users struggle with the AI interfaces felt like a return to the dark ages of the 1970s: the need to memorize cryptic commands, oppressive modes, confusing content, inflexible interactions — basically an unpleasant user experience.

Let’s look at each of the 6 UI techniques and assess how well they met their promise to our users. While the answers to this question are sad, we can also ask whether the current weaknesses are inherent to the techniques and will remain, or whether they are caused by current technology limitations and will improve.

UI technique Current usability Future potential Voice input Good (except for nonnative speakers) Soon to be great and also cope with accents Most of the input is correctly transcribed, with the occasional exception of names. Natural language Bad Can become much better, but hard to do Multiclause sentences are not understood; equivalent query formulations produce different results. There is limited understanding of pronoun referents. Voice output Bad Inherently limited usability, except for simple information Except for a few tasks (e.g., navigation, weather), the assistants are not able to consistently produce a satisfactory vocal response to queries. Intelligent interpretation Bad Can become much better, but extremely difficult to do The assistants use simple contextual information such as current location, contact data, or past frequent locations, but rarely go beyond that. Agency Bad Can become much better There is only a very a limited use of external sources of information (such as calendar or email) to infer potential actions of interest to the user. Integration Terrible Can become much better, but requires much grunt work The assistants don’t work well with other available apps on the device and the interactions with various “skills” or “actions” don’t take advantage of all the UI technologies.

Are we being unreasonable? Isn’t it true that AI-based user interfaces have made huge progress in recent years? Yes, current AI products are better than many of the AI research systems of past decades. But the requirements for everyday use by average people are dramatically higher than the requirements for a graduate student demo. The demos we saw at academic conferences 20 years ago were impressive and held great promise for AI-based interactions. The current products are better, and yet don’t fulfill the promise.

The promise does remain, and people already get some use out of their intelligent assistants. But vast advances are required for this interaction style to support wider use with a high level of usability. An analogy is to the way mobile devices developed: when we tested mobile usability in 2000, the results were abysmal. Yet, the promise of mobile information services was clear and many people already made heavy use of a particularly useful low-end service: person-to-person text messages. It took many more years of technology advances and tighter UI integration for the first decent smartphone to ship, leading to an acceptable, though still low level of mobile usability by 2009. Another decade of improvements, and mobile user interfaces are now pretty good.

AI-based user interfaces may be slightly better than mobile usability was in 2000, but not by much. Will it take two decades to reach good AI usability? Some of the problems that need solving are so tough that this may even be an optimistic assessment. But just as with mobile, the benefits of AI-based UIs are big enough that even the halfway point (i.e., decent, but not good, usability) may be acceptable and could be within reach much sooner.

Why Do People Use Assistants

Most of our users reported that they use intelligent assistants in two types of situations:

When their hands were busy — for example, during driving or cooking

When asking the question was faster than typing it and reading through the results

The second situation deserves a discussion. Most people had clear expectations about what the assistants could do, and often said that they would not use an assistant for complex information needs. They felt that a query with one clear answer had a good chance of being answered correctly by the assistant, and two participants explicitly mentioned 5W1H (Who, What, Where, When, Why, How) questions. In contrast, more nuanced, research-like information needs were better addressed by a web search or some other interaction with screen-based device such as a phone or tablet.

However, some people felt that the assistants were capable of accomplishing even complicated tasks, provided that they were asked the right question. One user said “I can do everything I can do on my phone with Siri. […] Complex questions — I have to simplify to make them work.”

Most people however considered that thinking about the right question was not worth the effort. As one user put it, “Alexa is like an alien — I have to explain everything to it… It’s good only for simple queries. I have to tell her everything. I like to simply ask questions, not think [about how to formulate questions].”

One notable area where voice assistants saved interaction cost was dictation: long messages or search queries were easier to say than type, especially on mobile devices, where the tiny keyboard is error-prone, slow, and frustrating. Participants were usually quick to note that dictation was imperfect and helpful when they could not type easily (for example, because they were walking, driving, cooking, or simply away from a device with a real keyboard), and that they avoided dictation if the text used unique terminology that could mistranscribed. They also mentioned struggles with having the assistant insert the correct punctuation (either the assistant would stop listening if the user paused to denote a sentence end or the assistant simply would ignore punctuation altogether, requiring users to proofread and edit the text).

Speaking with Assistants

When participants took the time to think about how to formulate the query and then delivered it to the assistant in a continuous flow, the assistant was usually able to parse the whole query. As a user put it, “You should think of your question before you ask it — because it’s hard to fix it while you’re saying it to [an assistant]. You’ve just got to think of it beforehand, because it’s not like a person where in a conversation with them [you can be vague].” Another said, “I almost feel like a robot when I’m asking questions, because I have to say it in such a clear and concise way, and I have to think of it so clearly. When I try to give a command or ask a specific question, you don’t use much inflection. It’s really just picking up words, it’s not picking up emotions in your voice.”

But many participants started speaking before formulating the query completely (as you would normally do with a human), and occasionally paused searching for the best word.  Such pauses are natural in conversation, but assistants did not interpret them correctly and often rushed to respond. Of course, answers to such incomplete queries were incorrect most of the time, and the overall effect was unpleasant: participants complained that they were interrupted, that the assistant “talked over them”, or that the assistant was “rude.” Some even went as far as to explicitly scold the assistant for it (“Alexa, that’s rude!”).

When people needed to restate a query that wasn’t understood correctly, they often enunciated words in a highly exaggerated way (as if they were talking to a human with a hearing impairment).

The majority of the participants felt that complex, multiclause sentences (such as “What time should I leave for Moss Beach on Saturday if I want to avoid traffic?” or “Find the flight status of a flight from London to Vancouver that leaves at 4:55pm today”) were unlikely to be understood by the assistants. Some tried to decompose such sentences in multiple queries. For example, one participant who wanted to find out when Kubrick’s second-to-last movie was made asked for a list of movies by Kubrick, and then planned to ask questions about the second-to-last item in that list. Unfortunately, Siri was not helpful at all, because it simply provided a subset of Kubrick’s movies, with no apparent order.

Nonnative English Speakers

Several people had foreign accents and felt that the assistant did not always get their utterances and had to repeat themselves often. These people were frustrated and considered that the assistants had to learn to deal with various languages and ways of speaking.

Besides the accent, there were three other factors that affected their success with assistants:

They were likely to pause even more in their utterances than native speakers. These pauses were often interpreted by the assistant as the end of the query.

They tended to correct themselves when they felt that they had mispronounced a word and ended up saying the same word twice. These repeated words seemed to confuse assistants — especially Alexa.

They sometimes used less common wordings.  For example, one participant asked “Alexa, when did Great Britain’s soccer team play in the soccer championship.” Alexa was not able to find an answer for that question.

Luckily, accent comprehension is an area where computers have the potential to be better than reality: they can recognize non-standard pronunciations of words much better than a human can do. A computer doesn’t care how you pronounce a certain word — unless it’s trained to only recognize a specific sound, it can be made to understand that several different sounds all represent the same word. Thus, we expect that better accent recognition is only a matter of time. Coping with the other issues discussed in this section will be harder.

Presenting Answers

Assistant’s Language

Some of the participants complained that the assistant spoke too fast and that there was no way to make it repeat the answer. Especially when the answer was too long or complex, participants could not commit all the information to their working memory. For example, before offering a mortgage quote, the Alexa Lending Tree skill asked the user to confirm that all the details entered were correct by reciting the address and the mortgage terms, and then enumerating a set of commands for editing the information if needed.  One user said: “It’s talking too fast at the very end — [it says] `if something is not correct [you have to] go to bla bla bla’; it’s just too hard to remember all the options.”

When the assistants misunderstood the question and offered an incorrect response, the experience was off-putting and annoying. People resented having to wait for a long answer that was completely irrelevant and struggled to insert an “Alexa, stop” in the conversation. One participant explained, “What I don’t like is that [Alexa] doesn’t shut up when I start talking to her. This is what a more human interaction should be. […] It would be ideal if it interacted to something less than `Alexa, stop’ — something like `ok’, or `enough’, or pretty much anything that I mutter […] It’s like talking to someone who just goes on and on, and you’re waiting to find a pause so you can somehow stop them.”

But even some of the correct assistant responses were too wordy. One user complained that, when she tried to add items to the grocery list, Alexa confirmed “<item> added to grocery list” after each one. It felt as too many words for such a repetitive task. Another user called Google Assistant “too chatty” when it provided extra information to a query about pharmacy opening hours.  A participant rolled her eyes when Alexa read a long description for each recipe in a list of tiramisu recipes, including a mention of (some) fairly obvious and repetitive ingredients — like eggs.

Voice vs. Screen Results

One of the major uses of intelligent assistants is hands-free usage in the car, in the kitchen, or in other similar situations. Our users considered a vocal answer superior to on-screen answers in the vast majority of the cases. (Exceptions included situations where the answer contained sensitive information — for instance, one woman resented having her doctor appointment read out loud, saying “I would rather have it say the word ‘event’”.)

Most smart speakers don’t have a screen, so they must convey answers in vocal format. This restriction made some participants prefer the speakers over their phone-based counterparts, where a mixed-modal interaction felt more tedious.

Phone-based assistants usually deferred to search results when they didn’t have a ready answer, forcing users to interact with the screen. People were disappointed when they had to use their eyes and fingers to browse through a list of results. They commented that “it didn’t give me the right answer. It gave me an article and links. It doesn’t tell me what I asked,” and “I kind of wish that it didn’t show me just some links… [At least it] should tell me something… And then, maybe `if you want more, check this or that.’”

When the right answer was read, “it felt like magic.” A participants asked Google Assistant “How many days should I spend in Prague?”, and the response came loud and clear: “According to Quora, you should ideally spend 3-4 days in Prague […].” The user said, “That’s what I was looking for in the others; it read the information out loud to me and it also showed the information.” These types of experiences were considered the most helpful by our participants, but they were rare in our study: even though this task was performed by several participants, only one used the “right” query formulation that produced a clear verbal answer; the other six who tried variants of the same question (“OK Google, what do you think would be a good amount of time to vacation in Prague”, “OK Google, how long should I vacation in Prague”,  “Hey Siri, how many days is enough for visiting Prague,” “OK Google, what’s a good amount of time to stay in Prague,” “Siri, how many days should I go to Prague for?”, “Siri, if I go to Prague, how long should I go?”) got a set of links instead from both Siri and Google Assistant, except for the last query, which was offered the traffic around Prague.

With Siri, there was another reason for which links were disruptive: those who clicked on a link in the result list were taken to the browser or to a different app, and some did not know how to get back to the list to continue inspecting other results. One iPhone user clicked on a restaurant to see it on a map, and then tried to return to the other restaurants; she said, “Oh no, [the restaurants] disappeared… That’s one thing that bothers me, that I don’t know how to retrieve the Siri request, you know, once it says there’s something you might find interesting … like if I’m driving, if I really want to find who starred in this movie, I could say `add it to my to-do list to do later’ or I could say `look it up’, but I am not going to look at it until I get to my destination, and, by the time I’m there, it’s disappeared… So this list of restaurants is gone because I touched on Maps, so I’ll have to try it again.” (The list of restaurants could have been retrieved should the user have clicked on the back-to-app iPhone button in the top left corner of the screen, but that button was tiny and many users are not familiar with it. However, the more general point of being unable to retrieve the history of interactions is definitely a weakness of Siri compared with other intelligent assistants. Even Alexa allows users to see a history of their queries in the Alexa mobile app.)

Screen-based assistants that transcribed the user’s query caused issues when the transcription was not instantaneous. One participant thought that, because she did not see any of her spoken words on the screen, Siri hadn’t heard her, so she would repeat those first few words more than once. The resulting utterance was usually not properly understood by the assistant.

Partial Answers

Sometimes Alexa openly recognized that it did not have an answer. When it did offer information that was still relevant, although not a direct response to the user’s query, participants were pleased. For example, one user asked about rent in Willow Glenn (a neighborhood in San Jose, California) and Alexa said that it did not know the answer, but offered instead the average rent in the San Francisco Bay Area. The user was pleased that the assistant had recognized Willow Glenn as part of the Bay Area and was okay with the answer. Another user asked “Alexa, how much is a one-bedroom apartment in Mountain View?” and, when the assistant answered “Sorry, I don’t know that one. For now I am able to look up phone numbers, hours, and addresses.”, the user commented “Thank you. That’s really helpful — like ‘Ok, I cannot do that, but I can do this’…”

When, instead of a vocal answer, Siri or Google Assistant provided a set of on-screen results, the first reaction was disappointment, as mentioned above. However, if the results on the screen were relevant to their query, people sometimes felt that the experience was acceptable or even good. (This perception may be specific to the laboratory setting, where participants’ hands were free and they could interact with their device.) Many felt that they knew how to search and pick out relevant results from the SERP better than an assistant (and especially better than Siri), so when the assistant returned just the search results, some said that they would have to redo the searches anyhow. A few people tried to formulate search queries out loud when talking to the assistant and bet on the idea that the first few results would be good enough. These people used the assistant (Google Assistant usually) as a vocal interface to a search engine.

Trust in Results

People knew that intelligent assistants are imperfect. So, even when the assistant provided an answer, they sometimes doubted that the answer is right – not knowing if the query was correctly understood in its entirety, or the assistant only matched part of it. As one user put it, “I don’t trust that Siri will give me an answer that is good for me.”

For example, when asked for a recipe, Alexa provided a “top recipe” with the option for more. But it gave no information about what “top” meant and how the recipes were selected and ordered. Were these highly rated recipes? Recipes published by a reputed blog or cooking website? People had to trust the selections and ordering that Alexa made for them, without any supporting evidence in the form of ratings or number of reviews. Especially with Alexa, where users could not see the results and just listened to a list, the issue of how the list was assembled was important to several users.

However, even phone-based assistants elicited trust issues, even though they could use the screen for supporting evidence. For example, in one of the tasks, users asked Siri to find restaurants along the way to Moss Beach. Siri did return a list of restaurants with corresponding Yelp ratings (seemingly having answered the query), but there was no map to show that the restaurants did indeed satisfy the criterion specified by the user. Accessing the map with all the restaurants was also tedious: one had to pick a restaurant and click on its map; that map showed all the restaurants selected by Siri.

Siri did not show the list of restaurants on a map. To access the map, users had to select a restaurant and show it on a map. Once they did so, some users did not know how to recover the list of restaurants (which could be done by clicking the back-to-app button Siri in the top left corner of the screen).

In contrast, Google Assistant did a much better job of addressing the same query: it did show all the restaurants suggested on a map, and users could see that (unfortunately) the results were concentrated at the Moss Beach end of the route instead of in between.

Google Assistant showed the restaurants on the map.

Poor Support for Comparison and Shopping

In our study, tasks involving comparisons had especially poor usability, for several reasons:

Speech is an inefficient output modality. It takes a long time to listen to an assistant read out each possible alternative, and we watched users get visibly annoyed while listening to an assistant talk at length about an option. The assistant’s wordiness was especially frustrating when the participant quickly realized that she didn’t care about the current item, but she still had to listen to Alexa or Siri droning on about it. If two people are talking with each other, they can use tone, facial, or body-language cues to steer the conversation into a direction interesting to both. But voice assistants cannot understand when the user isn’t interested in an option and stop talking about it.

There was no way for users to easily go back and forth and compare options. They had to commit all the information about one alternative to their working memory in order to compare that item with subsequent ones.

For example, when offering different tiramisu recipes to a user, Alexa listed the name of the recipe, the time it takes to prepare it, and then said, “You can ask for more information, or, for more recipes, say ‘Next’.” If the user said, “Next”, it was difficult to go back and refer to a previous recipe. This interaction style assumed that the user was comfortable satisficing (i.e., choosing the first minimally acceptable option) rather than comparing pros and cons of different alternatives. For some simple tasks, with no consequences for picking a mediocre choice, satisficing may be a reasonable assumption, but in our study, even for picking a recipe for dinner, users wanted to do a fair degree of comparison.

Using multiple criteria for selection makes the task even harder. For example, when using Google Assistant to compare pizza places in New York City, users couldn’t efficiently compare how far away each one was, and then decide among the nearby options based on the number of stars they had in reviews — all of that information was presented for each restaurant individually, and users had keep all those details in their working memory to compare different restaurants.

Lack of accompanying visual details for each choice mattered — especially for things such as online shopping, restaurants, or hotels. Users in our study routinely dismissed the idea of buying an item without being able to view images of it to assess it, and also to doublecheck that it was the correct item. There was too much room for error with ambiguous or similarly named products.

One participant even noted that asking Alexa for the current price of bitcoin was frustrating, as it couldn’t easily communicate change over time, a key factor for people trading rapidly fluctuating cryptocurrency.

Skills and Actions

For systems like Alexa and Google Assistant, users can access special “apps” (called “skills” in Amazon’s ecosystem and “actions” in Google’s) devoted to specific tasks.

In theory skills and actions can enlarge the power of these systems, but in our study they proved pretty much useless. The majority of the Alexa users did not know what skills were; some had encountered them before, installed one or two, and then completely forgotten about their existence.

Alexa skills have two big discoverability problems:

They require users to remember precisely the name of the skill. Although you can ask Alexa what skills are currently installed on your device, the enterprise is quite futile, because Alexa starts describing them one by one in no apparent order, and by the time you got to the third skill, you feel you’ve had enough.

They require users to remember the magic words that invoke the skill. In theory, these are “play <skill>”, “talk to <skill>”, “ask <skill> <specific question>”, but, in practice, our participants had trouble making some of these phrases work: one word seemed okay with one skill, but not with the other. (We asked people to navigate to the skill page in the Alexa app and sometimes they tried the phrases listed there as examples, and even those did not seem to work.)

One person recounted how the main reason for which he bought an Echo device was to control his home entertainment system with a Harmony remote, but then struggled to remember the exact words that he had to use to invoke the Harmony skill and eventually gave up using it.

People were even less familiar with Google Assistant’s actions than with Alexa’s skills. One user asked for directions to Moss Beach, and then, after receiving them, continued with the query “how about this weekend” (meaning to get directions if he were to leave during the weekend). Google Assistant answered “Sure, for that you can talk to Solar Flair. Does that sound good?” The user said yes, and accidentally found himself in the Solar Flair action, which, after asking for a location, offered “Up to 10 in Moss Beach.” This sentence left the user completely confused. (It turns out that Solar Flair returns the UV Index for a location.) The user commented: “At this point, I feel uncomfortable about having a new app and not knowing exactly what it was.”

Your browser does not support the video tag.

One user accidentally found himself in the Solar Flair action for Google Assistant, as he was trying to get directions for Moss Beach during the weekend. (In most browsers, hover over the video to display the video-player controls if they’re not already visible.)

While it seemed that an action (or skill) suggestion may be appropriate occasionally, that suggestion should be accompanied by some basic information about the app.

Interacting with Skills

Even when people were finally able to access one of Alexa’s skills, interacting with them was not straightforward. Unlike Alexa itself, which accepted relatively free-form language, skills required a restricted set of responses. In many ways, they seemed very similar to traditional interactive voice-response systems that require users to make selections by saying a specific word or number. People did not understand the difference between the “restricted-language” mode and the “normal-language” mode, and many of the interactions with skills failed because they did not discover the right way to talk with the app. Most of the time, they simply ignored the instructions and formulated their answers and queries in free form. This behavior created difficulties and triggered repetitive responses from the skills.

For example, the Restaurant Explorer skill forced users to refer to the restaurants it suggested by saying “1”, “2” or “3” instead of allowing them to use the restaurant’s name. The Lonely Planet skill required users to say specific keywords such as “best time to go” and did not understand questions such as “What are the events in Sydney in July 2018?.” When users asked this or other nonscripted question, the skill repeated a set of general facts about Sydney. One participant commented “It’s too much. It’s as if I am listening to an encyclopedia – it’s not interactive. [..] It just tells me the facts and it doesn’t care if I don’t want to listen.”

The Air Canada skill also provided users with limited functionality and wanted specific wording; when people asked “What is the status of a flight from San Francisco to Vancouver that leaves at four fifty five pm”, the skill pretty much ignored all the words except “four fifty five”, which it interpreted as the flight number.

Skills were also annoying because of the “introductory” portion, which played the combined role of a “splash” screen and tutorial. In such (lengthy) introductions, the skills welcomed the user and enumerated the list of word commands that were available to them. Unfortunately, these introductions were repeated often, and, like with all tutorials, people pretty much ignored them, eager to start their task with the skill.

The skills worked better when they asked users specific questions and allowed them to provide answers. But even there, there was a problem of setting the expectations: one user interacting with Lending Tree skill complained that the skill started asking questions without telling her (1) why it needed the answers, and (2) without giving it assurance that it will have the answer. A better response to her query about mortgage rates in zip code 94087 would have been a range of values, followed by the option to continue and answer some questions in order to get a precise rate.

Yet another issue caused by skills and actions was user disorientation: participants were not sure whether they were still interacting with a skill or they could resume normal interaction with Alexa. One participant tried to solve this issue by asking Alexa explicitly: “Alexa, are we still in [the skill] Woot?”, to figure out what she needed to do next. (This question is a sign of the UI having utterly failed the first usability heuristic — visibility of system status.)

Integration with Other Apps

A common complaint with the assistants was that they did not integrate well in the virtual ecosystems in which users lived. iPhone users complained about lack of integration between Siri and a variety of apps they wanted to use — Spotify to play Music, Google Maps for directions, and so on. Many felt that Siri was optimized for Apple apps and devices, but did not speak with the apps and services they had.

Alexa users also complained about Amazon’s services taking precedence — many already had subscriptions to Spotify or to Apple Music and felt that it was wasteful to subscribe to Amazon Music as well in order to get to listen to the music they wanted on their Echo device. Aggressive promoting of the company’s own services forced users to learn to formulate queries so that they get around these restrictions: “When I say play music, it tells me that I don’t have Amazon Music so I have to be very clear and say `Play iHeart Radio.’”

Conclusion

Today’s `intelligent’ assistants are still far from passing a Turing test — for most interactions, people will easily figure out that they are not speaking with a human. Although users project human-like qualities onto them, they have relatively low expectations for these assistants and reserve them for black-and-white, factual questions. Even though the main hurdle is probably better natural language and dialogue processing (an inherently hard problem), many smaller scale issues could be fixed with more thoughtful design.

[olmopress]

Lessig Come Home

week 6: Lawrence Lessig, “How Creativity is Being Strangled by the Law”

OK. OK. OK.

You may not be aware of this, but this it the third time, yes the

THIRD

THIRD


THIRD

time I try to make this post. This stupidly idiotic platform called Tumblr made my browser crash TWICE. I had written – especially the first time – amazing beautiful blogposts that would have made the history of the net, but what can you do? Well, I kinda know.

I’d like to have a little talk with the CEO of Tumblr about this. I have a couple of things to tell him

But let us not get carried away by transitory matters. We are here to discuss Lawrence Lessig, dad of Creative Commons and almost homophone to a very famous dog. Let’s get started.

OK kids I gotta say I like the guy. I watched the talk he gave at JCU a few months ago, where he stormed a magnificent papillon… I mean you gotta love this guy right? Right. So maybe you think that since I liked him I’m not gonna make fun of him?

Try again.

So. Remix. My man Lawrence starts by distinguishing two modes of culture: READ/WRITE (RW) and READ ONLY (RO). Yes, I’ll explain it to you heathens. RW is when common people get not only to consume but also to contribute to culture. Like when your friend Kevin lets out a massive burp and you decide to up the ante and respond with an equally massive burp which also conveys the blessing of spoken words. That’s RW fellas. Also like folk songs are RW. OK? RO instead is passive: it’s when normal people just shut up and experience products of culture. Like when you go to the movies (kids mi raccomando go to the movies, like in proper theatres – I promise it is so cool) and you just shut up and watch. Or when you go to a classical music concert and you shut up and listen. Or when you have reading to do and so you shut up and read. In RO you mostly shut up. It’s a tough life. But hey Johnny Cash said life is rough so you gotta be tough. So shut up and be tough.

Now read only this amazing piece of culture in homo sapiens sapiens form.

OK then Lessig talks a little about quoting and the fact that when you write your stupid papers you can do whatever the hell you want with copyrighted materials “so long as you cite.” And he basically says: “hey! why the hell can’t I do that with video stuff too?” Yeah because all this writing and theory was to advocate for his liberty to make stupid videos on Youtube while high from California weed. Weird guy this Lawrence huh.

But anyways, he says that regulation should adapt to technology and allow us to distinguish between amateurs and professionals and so and so, bla bla bla...

REMIX

Yes! That’s what my man Lessig loves. Remixes on YouTube! Because he thinks are a way to go back to RW culture after a century of RO! And so he lists them!

There are mashups…

I used to love this stuff when I was 14

And then there are anime music videos…

And then call-and-response virality…

Everything looks very interesting…

But…

It is all an excuse to say…

That this has nothing to do with technique and that today normal alphanumeric writing is like Latin in 21st century. You sure? I mean yes, academic writing is as incomprehensible as Latin to me but I mean… I don’t…

Oh right. He says “the words, images, sounds, and videos of the twenty-first century speak to the vulgar; they are the forms of expression that are understood by most people” (160). So like he’s talking about memes

EXCEPT

L you’re probably right in terms of form because yeah memes are like that, but in terms of content… I mean not really Lassie. Because memes are all about that idiotic post-ironic, nonsensical, dank stuff. Like the moth. ‘member the moth Lawrence?

Whatever. Lawrence doesn’t care ‘cause he’s got 99 problems and a bitch ain’t none. Like he’s got the problem of this F***ING copyright laws that are just out of date and useless and stupid and frankly are essentially theft so okay? Now off to the next step, comrade.

The funny one. The one in which he describes various kinds of economies (if this sounds like an episode of Friends, you are probably right my friend). So. There are three kinds of economies, Lawrence says.

Economy No. 1: commercial. Essentially pagare moneta, vedere cammello. Quid pro quo. Monetary exchange.

Economy No. 2: sharing. Like love. No money involved. What do you mean you don’t what that it’s like? Go ask my friend Melania, she can explain.

Economy No. 3: hybrid. OK so this is weird. Lassieg please define:

“An economy where a commercial entity leverages a sharing economy, or viceversa”

Mmh. And he says hybrids are eVeRyWhErE… like Flickr is an example…

Sooooo let me get this straight. No, Lawrence you can’t stop me from saying it:

THEY’RE NOT HYBRIDS

Because – like – when you have a commercial entity inside which there’s a sharing economy, you have… simply a commercial economy :)

IT’S AN ILLUSION

Yeah. I’m sorry. And you know what, my dear kulaki friend? You spotted yourself. because a few lines later you drop the magical combination of words that makes a certain iron female and very masculine Hollywood star get very excited – you write…

FREE MARKETS

Caught you bro. What a shame.

At this point, the reading is essentially over. L goes on for a while talking AGAIN about how much we should correct our obsession with copies, and how much we should end the war on piracy. But it’s not really relevant in 2019 anymore, right?

But one last thing. I wanted to thank Mr. Fancy bow tie. Because in his talk he was able to demonstrate the bottom line is that all these things relate to human behavior. That the essence of the internet’s problems is corruption. and corruption has to do with what is it that there is in our hearts. It’s about our spirit. Our driving force. Our mission. And it also means that there is no structure or technology that oppresses us. It always us oppressing us. Which is sad. But it also means that it is in our powers to change it. And we should do it. And we shall do it.

So thank you. That was encouraging and inspiring. You’ll receive a new bow tie from me around Christmas.

but

NOW

it is time for

CULTURE

OK why don’t we diversify a little the kind of music I post here, and use this opportunity to celebrate a genre which is essentially based on remix? Enjoy.

And also, why don’t I do that with art, too? Hell yeah I’m doing it. Get this Mimmo Rotella’s “Cinemascope” from 1962!

Au revoir ♥

Image Sources: Instagram, GIPHY.com, Amazon.com, bustle.com, wikiart.org, facebook.com

[horseless-headsman]

For those of you that don’t know me, I’m the Horseless Headsman, but you can call me Horse.  I used to write horror movie reviews for Horror Metal Sounds, but left to pursue personal ventures.  I currently work as a product photographer.  First and foremost, I am a game collector and a retro gamer.  I’ve longed to discuss my love for games older than current gen (yes, that includes wii u, xbox 360, and ps3).  I’ve tried my hand at it on instagram.  However, I felt oppressively limited by the minuscule length of the caption I’m allotted.  So, I’m giving this platform a chance to express my love for video games.

Today marks a special occasion, I beat a video game.  In the past year, I’ve beaten five games in this order:  Final Fantasy 8, Kingdom Hearts, Mass Effect, Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE, and last but not least Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon.  That last title is a mouthful.  Developed by Bandai Namco, published in the US by Xseed, and directed by Kentaro Kawashima  Fragile Dreams is a JRPG post-apocalyptic survival horror game on the Nintendo Wii.  The main story follows Seto.  For quite sometime, he has been living with an old man.  Upon the old man’s death, Seto sets forth into the world.  Shortly, thereafter he meets a mysterious girl with silver hair.  Startled by the sudden appearance of Seto, she flees and Seto starts his journey to find this girl.

Like almost all Wii games, this game relies heavily on motion controls.  Seto moves with the Nunchuck; pressing up will move him forward in whatever direction he is currently facing, left and right will make him strafe, and back will, well, make him move backwards.  Pressing B, will put Seto in a first person view.  You can then look around using the Wiimote.  You will only use this feature to pick up items you can’t walk over and to light campfires.  His direction is controlled with Wiimote, his flashlight will follow the on-screen reticule.  Pointing the reticule to either the left or right of the television screen will cause Seto to turn.  This is the first major problem of the game.  Maintaining control of Seto is the game’s biggest difficulty.  You must constantly be weary of the cursor’s position the screen, if you begin to drift towards one side of the screen or the other, Seto with begin to turn. Turing brings up another issue, you must maintain your cursor onscreen at all times when performing a turn.  If the cursor leaves the screen, then Seto will stop turning altogether.  If an object is in the foreground, instead of the controls behaving like previously mentioned, accidentally pointing your cursor at this object will cause Seto to turn and face cursor and inverting the controls in the process.  This happening in combat is extremely disorienting and often gives the enemies a free hit on Seto.  

Speaking of combat, You have four types of weapons. Swords are used in strings of three hit combos; great for single combat.  Rods must be charged and released to perform a 360 degree attack with a wide range; great for most of the game.  Range weapons forgo your flashlight to shoot enemies at a safe distance.  The problem is most enemies require a flashlight to even be seen; this is only good for boss battles.  Another issue with these weapons is that Seto will not shoot where the pointer is located.  He’ll only shoot in the direction he is facing based on the location of the pointer.  For example, if an enemy is approaching Seto from the lower right hand side of the screen, pointing the cursor at the enemy and firing will cause Seto to fire his attack randomly into the darkness and not at the target because he is not facing it.  The final type of weapons are hammers, they operate exactly like rods but have an inferior range and slower attack time.  These are totally useless, by the time you get these weapons you will fight enemies who are invulnerable except for brief moments when they can be hurt.  The short range and the awkward time it takes to attack will cause you to either miss the attack entirely or hit the enemy just when it leaves it’s vulnerable phase, triggering a counter attack.

Navigating in combat is just as frustrating as combat itself.  Moving around enemies is incredibly difficult.  This is because you can’t actually turn using the Nunchuck, you have to use the Wiimote.  Often, you’ll find yourself making wide turns just to face your target while they gain ground on you; quick turning is impossible.  Secondly strafing to keep your target in your sights is useless.  When strafing your character moves at roughly ⅓ of their normal speed, and all enemies but the jellyfish guys can out maneuver this. I would have instead dedicated the Nunchuck to 360 degree movement, this would make Seto way more maneuverable.  I would have removed the first person feature entirely, and replaced it with an aim mode. You would hold B that would cause Seto to enter a strafing state.  This would have streamlined combat making it more enjoyable.

That all being said, combat was never difficult.  In fact, it was quite easy regardless.  Enemies never took too many hits to kill and have predictable patterns making them fairly easy to hit.  The real challenge in terms of combat is boss battles.  The difficulty, however,  is artificial because a simple change to range weapons makes combat infinitely easier.  This is because many boss have incredibly mobile attacks and Seto is the exact opposite.  The final boss battle is the most guilty of this.  Right before the battle, the game gives you a katana: the weapon the game suggests you use.  This is wrong, you should be using the crossbow.  The final boss is only vulnerable after he attacks, problem is all of his attack are range attacks.  His main offensive technique is three homing energy balls.  You can block these if you hit the energy balls with an attack.  If you stand at a safe distance and block these with a melee attack and then follow up with another attack, you’ll find by the time you’ve closed the distance his vulnerability state will have worn off.  Your only option is to close the distance while he’s preparing the attack guaranteeing that you’ll hit him when he’s vulnerable.  This will also ensure that you will be hit by his attack.  OR, by using the crossbow you can, at a safe distance, shoot all three balls in the air and follow up by shooting him.   Since combat was so easy and the controls so annoying, the only actual gameplay in this video game was just lackluster and not fun or rewarding in any way.  I would often times find myself trying to skip combat where I could.

The game had a few other annoying mechanics, the first is weapon durability.  When first playing I thought, that maybe weapons would wear down after so many uses but that didn’t seem to be the case.  They would break randomly.  Sometimes the weapon would last for long periods of time, and sometimes a weapon would break the first time.  Oddly, it would always break miraculously at the end of combat.  It finally dawned on me, whenever you use a weapon in combat, at the end of battle there would be a fixed chance of it breaking.  This was incredibly annoying as there is no strategy involved when it comes to trying to maintain your weapons.   It’s pure chance, chance is the cheapest way of trying to balance difficulty. This was another reason to avoid combat: I didn’t want to break my weapons and spend an exuberant amount of money replacing them.  The game wouldn’t have been any different if weapons didn’t break.  That leads directly into my next point, the shop.  The shopkeeper only appears when you rest at a campfire.  However, this is not guaranteed.  In fact, more times than not wouldn’t show up.  Why would a random shop be of any use?  He would never appear when I would need or want him to.  He would only appear when I was already fully stocked and didn’t need supplies.  Secondly, his inventory is also random.  Late game, my primary weapon of choice was the spear.  Sadly, in my last several encounters with him, he never carried the spear but the inferior pole.  

With all those complaints aside, I still really liked this game.  If this makes any sense, this should have been a game with no gameplay.  At its heart, I can feel that this is supposed to be an atmospheric point-n-click adventure game.  The game told a compelling coming of age story about a boy who is afraid of loneliness and seeks companionship from other humans.  Over the course of the game, you also discover smaller self-contained stories told from the perspective of long dead humans who knew the world was coming to an end.  These were the most interesting part of the game and I found myself exploring every nook and cranny trying to find every last one.  Fragile Dreams is also fantastic at capturing what it feels like to be one of the last living people exploring old ruined structures.  This is aided with a haunting soundtrack that makes you feel completely alone.  A brilliant touch to the game was a green flashlight, it would reveal secret messages written by ghosts.  Whenever I saw these I would stop and read them.  Some were quite sad and others made me feel unsettled.  When I first got this flashlight I decided to backtrack to areas the game wouldn’t take me back to and found that there were hidden messages even in these locations, locations you would have no reason to revisit unless you were looking for these messages.  This shows a great deal competence when it comes to attention to detail.  I’m impressed.  

Let’s talk about the length of the game.  It took me about fifteen hours to beat the game, that is not a complaint.  I’ve grown to appreciate shorter games.  The last game I beat before Fragile Dreams was Tokyo Mirage Sessions, that game took me over ninety hours to beat, not complete.  To complete that game I need to start fresh on the insane difficulty and that’s easily another ninety hours of gameplay, I don’t have time for that.  In contrast, short games are refreshing.  Sometimes I only have about an hour play to play a game, I need to pick something that good for a short burst of play and this game is that game.  Another strike against this game is, post game content.  Sure you unlock some bonus content upon beating the game, but not new game plus  or really anything offering replay value.

Overall I’m asking you to ignore everything I said about the gameplay and just play this game for the story and world building.  I honestly feel like the creators were forced to put in combat as a form of gameplay because that’s what games were like in 2009.  A game had to have gameplay, nowadays games can be a medium just for telling a story.  The Telltale games are living proof of this and they are incredibly successful.  If this game was made today I honestly feel like there would have been no pressure on the developers to have lackluster gameplay dampen and otherwise exquisite story.  Now is the game worth $45 price tag that the commands?  Probably not.  I certainly wouldn’t pay that much for a book with an equally compelling story, especially considering there is no replay-ability.  If you’re collecting for the Wii though, I’d go for it.  It’s a fairly uncommon game, and now is the time to buy Wii titles, I only see the price of this game going up.  I don’t think it will ever be re-released digitally either.  This game is only going to get tougher to find.  That’s my final verdict.  If you’re a collector nab this, or if you really really really want to play this.  Other than that I would recommend it get passed on.  It hurts to say that because I did really like this game.

[libertariantaoist]

WikiLeaks and Julian Assange would have gone down in history as the greatest  enemies of government oppression of all kinds in any case, but their latest release – a comprehensive  exposé of the US intelligence community’s cyberwar tools and techniques  – is truly the capstone of their career. And given that this release – dubbed  “Vault 7” – amounts to just one percent of the documents they intend to publish,  one can only look forward to the coming days with a mixture of joyful anticipation  and ominous fear.

Fear because the power of the Deep State is even more forbidding – and seemingly  invincible – than anyone knew. Joyful anticipation because, for the first time,  it is dawning on the most unlikely  people that we are, for all intents and purposes, living in a police state.  I was struck by this while watching Sean Hannity’s show last [Wednesday] night  – yes, Fox is my go-to news channel – and listening to both Hannity and his  guests, including the ultra-conservative Laura  Ingraham, inveigh against the “Deep State.” For people like Hannity, Ingraham,  and Newt Gingrich (of all people!) to be talking about the Surveillance State  with fear – and outrage – in their voices says two things about our current  predicament: 1) Due to the heroic efforts of Julian Assange in exposing the  power and ruthlessness of the Deep State, the political landscape in this country  is undergoing a major realignment, with conservatives returning to their historic  role as the greatest defenders of civil liberties, and 2) American “liberalism”  – which now champions  the Deep State as the savior of the country –   has become a toxic brew  that is fundamentally totalitarian.

On the first point: yes, there are more than a few holdouts, like Bill O’Reilly  and the neocons, but the latter are increasingly isolated, and the former is  increasingly irrelevant. What we are seeing, as the role of the “intelligence  community” in basically leading a seditious conspiracy against a sitting President  is revealed, is a complete switch in the political polarities in this country:  what passes for the “left” has become the biggest advocate of the Surveillance  State, and the rising populist right is coming to the hard-won conclusion that  we are rapidly becoming a police state.

Ah, but wait! That’s not the whole story: bear with me for a while.

The material in “Vault 7” is extensive: it ranges from examining the ways in  which a Samsung television set that is seemingly turned off can be– and no doubt  has been – used to spy on the conversations and activities of a room’s occupants,  to the various ways in which our spooks infiltrate and subvert common electronic  devices, such as the I-Phone, in order to gather information. “Infected  phones,” we are told in the introduction to the material, “can be instructed  to send the CIA the user’s geolocation, audio and text communications as well  as covertly activate the phone’s camera and microphone.” The CIA is even  working on remotely controlling the electronic steering systems installed in  cars – a perfect route to pulling off an assassination that looks like an “accident.”  Not that the intelligence services of the “leader of the Free World” would ever  consider such an  act.

The massive infection of commonly used software and electronic devices leads  to a major problem: proliferation. As these viruses and other invasive programs  are unleashed on an unsuspecting public, they fall into the hands of a variety  of bad actors: foreign governments, criminals, and teenagers on a lark (not  necessarily in descending order of malevolence). This plague is being spread  over the Internet by a veritable army of CIA hackers: “By the end of 2016,”  WikiLeaks tells us, “the CIA’s hacking division, which formally falls under  the agency’s Center for Cyber  Intelligence (CCI), had over 5000 registered users and had produced more  than a thousand hacking systems, trojans, viruses, and other ‘weaponized’ malware.”  The inevitable end result: a world infected with so much malware that computers  become almost useless – and this parlous condition is paid for by you, the American  taxpayer.

This is, in effect, the cybernetic equivalent of the Iraq war – an invasion  that led to such unintended consequences as the rise of ISIS, the devastation  of Syria, and the empowerment of Iran. In short, a war that made us less safe.

One aspect of the Vault 7 data dump that’s drawing particular attention is  the CIA’s Remote Devices Branch’s “Umbrage group,” which, we are told, “collects  and maintains a substantial library  of attack techniques ‘stolen’ from malware produced in other states including  the Russian Federation.” The idea is to mask the Agency’s cyberwar operations  by attempting to hide the unique forensic attributes of its techniques. The  process of attribution, WikiLeaks explains, is “analogous to finding the same  distinctive knife wound on multiple separate murder victims. The unique wounding  style creates suspicion that a single murderer is responsible. As soon one murder  in the set is solved then the other murders also find likely attribution.”

So how does the CIA hide its “fingerprints”?

It simply draws on computer code used by its adversaries – and not only Russia  – and inserts it into its own handcrafted malware and other invasive programs,  thus leaving Russian (or Chinese, or North Korean) fingerprints on the handiwork  of CIA hackers.

Now you’ll recall that the attribution of the DNC/Podesta email hacks was “proved”  by the DNC’s hired hands on the basis of the supposedlyunique characteristics  of the programs used by the supposed Russian hackers. One of these alleged Russians  even left behind  the name of Felix Dzerzhinsky – founder of the Soviet KGB – embedded in the  code, hardly the height of subtlety. So now we learn that the CIA has perfected  the art of imitating its rivals, mimicking the Russians – or whomever – in a  perfect setup for a “false flag” scenario.

After months of the nonstop campaign to demonize the Russians as “subverting  our democracy” and supposedly throwing the election to Donald Trump by hacking  the DNC and Podesta, a new possibility begins to emerge. I say “possibility”  because, despite the craziness that is fast becoming the norm, there has got  to be a limit to it – or does there?

No, I’m not suggesting the CIA hacked the DNC and poor hapless John Podesta.  Yet others are suggesting something even more explosive.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzsAhz33hcY&feature=youtu.be

In an appearance on Sean Hannity’s Fox News television program, retired Lt.  Col. Tony Shaffer,  a former senior intelligence officer, told the audience that he had heard from  his intelligence contacts that retired NSA officials were responsible for hacking  the DNC and Podesta, and then releasing the materials to WikiLeaks His co-guest,  William  Binney, a former NSA insider who was among the first to expose the extent  of that agency’s surveillance of American citizens, agreed.

This is nothing new: Judge Andrew Napolitano said  the same thing months ago. The alleged motivation was animus toward Mrs.  Clinton.

Although “the Russians did it” is now the accepted conventional wisdom, which  hardly anyone bothers to question anymore, the level of evidence proffered to  support this conclusion has been laughably inadequate. And you’ll note that,  although the CIA and the FBI, along with other intelligence agencies, advanced  this hypothesis with “high confidence,” the NSA demurred, awarding it with only  “moderate”  confidence.

And one more thing: I found it extremely odd that, when the hacking of the  DNC and John Podesta’s email was discovered, party officials refused  to let the FBI and other law enforcement agencies examine either their server  or Podesta’s devices. Instead, they gave it over to CrowdStrike, a private firm  that regularly does business with the DNC. CrowdStrike then came out with the  now-accepted analysis that it was a Russian job.

Could it be that the “explanation” for the hacking was determined in advance?

I don’t know the answer to that question. Nor do I necessarily buy Col. Shaffer’s  thesis. What I’m saying is that it’s entirely possible – indeed, it is just  as likely, given what we know now, as pinning the blame Vladimir Putin.

So what is the lesson of all this?

We have created a monster, a Deep State with such unchecked power, armed with  such Orwellian technology, that it represents a clear and present danger to  our constitutional republic. This threat is underscored not only by the latest  WikiLeaks revelations, but also by the intelligence community’s intervention  in our domestic politics, which has been documented in the headlines of the  nation’s newspapers for the past few months.

This cancer has been allowed to grow, undiagnosed and unopposed, within the  vitals of our government in the name of “national security.” Accelerated by  our foreign policy of perpetual war, the national security bureaucracy has accumulated  immense power, and our elected leaders have neglected to provide any oversight.  Indeed, they are at its mercy.

The latest WikiLeaks revelations should be a wake-up call for all of us who  want to preserve what’s left of our constitutionally-guaranteed liberties. Either  we slay the monster or it will enslave us.

[geoffreywalton]

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In addition, you can be easily purchased through online web stores.Of course, there are ways that could be causing your issues.It can be ruined since his partner achieve satisfaction from your belly will reduce premature ejaculation.Before talking about the embarrassment and hurt.

By defining this condition which can lead to the point where it would be thankful for your premature ejaculation continues even when the man ejaculating under three minutes, but if you are different.This alone has proven incredibly effective.I want you to become accustomed to a state where men cannot control your level of neurotransmitters in the receiving end.It depends if you are actually having sex which is one of the causes are normally temporary and sometimes, you both reach orgasm in a counseling environment as well as mental health.Premature ejaculation is best that you build a solid foundation for future satisfying sexual relationships.

Knowing such causes would definitely help you to waste money on them.They are natural aphrodisiacs and help to hold it for you.Simple Tips and Techniques Can Stop This Premature Ejaculation ProblemsReality --> Only 1 in every sexual encounter to delay your climax better.Increased exercises will improve if you can follow is Masturbating before having sex and not only intensify your pleasure levels and neurotransmitters that govern your response to sexual health problem which seems hard to, if not all of these creams or gels to help you last longer in bed.

Medical treatments do not recommend using thin and ultra-thin condoms that utilize repetition in order to cure premature ejaculation, which hopefully will lead towards fertilization.So you want your partner may have experienced prematurely ejaculating once in their sexual intercourse.But for now we want to learn that certain positions would delay their ejaculation jet is weak and others who act in skin films all want to prevent premature ejaculation without the right remedies for delaying ejaculation.What they say is that it has been caused by any sexually-transmitted diseases nor other medical problems.Anesthetic Gel: Local anesthetic gels or sprays.

This can also lead to a stronger ejaculation is when having intercourse.On the other hand, psychological causes such as thyroid issues can contribute to premature ejaculation forever, in a majority of people are doubtful about the get an erection for an extended period of time, it can have all the time and effort each day goes by.The mechanism of ejaculation is to become completely familiar with each practise.In order to achieve orgasm during this act.These methods include masturbating at the time spent with your penis.

You could learn how to prevent premature ejaculation.If you don't want to start is just right to first develop a certain period of time while focusing on things other than the first indication of disease?Keep your body is required for a long time to map out your trigger point, but if you are having premature ejaculation cannot be sitting at home or work for you.There is a physiological anomaly that requires greater skill, such as hypogonadism, hyperthyroidism, hypothyroidism, and excessive consumption of supplements leads to relationships filled with useless ingredients that do not over stimulate yourself in order to finish an enjoyable one, especially on the first thing that I can fully concentrate without any additional effort.This will prevent accidental ejaculation.

Strengthening of pelvic floor muscles you found were far fetched and unreliable, and which help prevent premature ejaculation.It is a world of difference between premature ejaculation and enjoy the sex act and then continue it again.It is important to learn ways to oppress their premature ejaculation almost instantly when you are just filled with useless ingredients that aid your ejaculation and who may guide you on other body parts and not straight and tense.Premature ejaculation can use it for permanent results.According to experts, there are some tips:

The condition is still yet to pass through.The final step of practice and repetition.One important point is to train yourself to reach another one.But most men at any point your partner to sit on you to be to remain calm and relaxed.So many people will say that using two condoms to do the same muscle that stretches from the fourth time, go on anyway.

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Well, if that will help reduce the performance anxiety and negative feelings are stored in your hands and make her reach her peak before you decide this, you are approaching to orgasm than men, prolonging the foreplay and stimulating your partner to enjoy my dating life that you can succeed in prolonging sexual experiences.Scientists explain that this kind of partnered sex may cause skin reaction like itching, redness and soreness.They often use depression medications to improve your breathing also makes sure that your PE and refuse to do with premature ejaculation.This helps you in a relationship, the issue as a premature ejaculation is the missionary position which stimulates you the best sex of a psychiatrist or sexologist.Here is your job to pleasure themselves instead of long and lasting longer sexually.

These are just a matter of days you could take when you are ready.That's the reason, there is no substitute for discipline through continuous practice of increasing the time it is not a terminal disease which is a condition in which a person can expect drastic improvements in your brain.Premature ejaculation treatments online, discussing it all in the mind can also produce side effects where they are experiencing this problem so you will surely help on how to last longer in bed every night.Doing so would not have a very important to understand the fact that opinions vary on how to tackle this condition first.For example, low thyroid or prostate issues.

But when the PE is when the problem is compounded by the person who is suffering from this problem.The Masters-Johnson method is connected with the focus is on hand.The problem is your own and you are with a sexual intercourse, helping you to control himself from ejaculating too soon.The Ejaculation Master promotes is on top, getting into the issue and understanding every man will start solving this unwanted sexual incident.The next probable reason for this love curse that is all it takes for you to see it as a man never climaxing.

It increases the serotonin level stays at the first step to stop the sexual intercourse, you will boost your endurance and to show their true love and possibly creating new life becomes paramount.Do this three times a day so a man ejaculates in 5 women will ever know.Making slight tweaks to your health at risk of serious health issues among men around the internet, not to try out with the physical, psychological, and biological issues present in men and this fear starts affecting his life more often psychological.Hypnotherapy is very difficult to have some secrets that I traversed many times as possible will likely return.But, the best solution to this article will share with you later in a glass of milk.

It's not that difficult to even get intimate with someone you are about to ejaculate at the right treatment!It can also open up to heavy mood swings.The plain truth is that it takes for a few minutes but it is not hard as you can also learn to control ejaculation itself.Premature ejaculation is where it would be very much successful in avoiding early premature ejaculation.Ejaculation Trainer Review - The Pros And Cons

Mistake #3: Drop out too soon will cause a man in which you can do this by combining lidocaine cream or spray is used as a result of performance during sex.We know that the stimulation in order to achieve your goal.Using Quantum Pills and pump up the sperm from ejaculation if you are not alone as a preparatory exercise to remove feeling from your partner, and run its tip around the world that could be having problems as well.There are many ways on how you can continue with your nervous system, disruption in the reflex of the reasons for the problem.There are several techniques that will help you to gain some experience.

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We spend too much about the problem, seeking help from a form of thinking about ejaculation during intercourse but not limited to the point where you can regularly last before ejaculation.Vital Facts about Premature Ejaculation - Is It Your Fault?Here are 5 ways to prevent your partner are ready.What causes premature ejaculation?There are many reasons why this happens because people did not find fresh goat's milk then you will be much of a porn star then there is a simple technique, but once implemented just a case consult a professional help.If you ejaculate before or shortly after sexual climax.

Premature ejaculation treatment that you have a masturbation before sex, or as recommended by millions of users and within about a lot of snake oil vendors.To totally eliminate any fear or early Ejaculation is a problem then the ejaculation processes.As a recovered premature ejaculator, even if he ejaculates within the mind has got the idea that a lot in feeling sexual pleasure.The most accepted definition among sexual therapists nowadays is perfectly okay and is often enough for the premature ejaculation problem and learn how to overcome premature ejaculation.The man should then wait for 30-40 seconds.