#and to learn exactly how to control their behavior while maintaining their respect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bimswritings · 4 years ago

Text

Savage Opress x Reader: Pt.2

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Yandere Themes, Language

PT.1

Presents and Possessions

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

Life aboard the ship of the Zabrak brothers wasn’t what you had been expecting.

Savage had told you that you were to serve him, be there for his every call, but so far he had neglected to have you do anything. As far as servants went, your duties were next to nothing, and you hardly saw him on a regular basis.

His appearances were sparse appearing every other day. There were times when you would go days, even a week without seeing him. When you did he was, for a lack of better words, clingy.

The first few nights he had to wrestle you to get you to lay down, struggling against your squirming figure even with his superior strength. At first you had feared that he would try to pull something, leaving many sleepless nights for you as you remained stiff and on guard. As time progressed without incident, you found yourself becoming more relaxed, falling into a routine of sorts.

You would spend the day doing whatever it is you could find to occupy yourself in the room, be it reading one of the stray books he would bring or trying to maintain your physical skills and strength earned from years working in the mines. That strength could be your saving grace if you need to fight your captor, should he decide to flip the script and try to pull something one day. Then, at night or random intervals during the day, Savage would return. He would spend a majority of the time ranting, pacing back and forth across the room as he complained about one thing or another. All the while you would sit on the bed, silently listening.

On particularly rough days, he would forego any words and just drag you into his arms, holding you there for hours and not saying anything. It was as if the rest of the world was shut out to him at those times, ignoring your squirming as his horns poked into your skin, all the while his face remained bruised in the crook of your neck.

Even with having to deal with the clingy Zabrak, you were far from mistreated on the ship.

Visits with your brother were held once a week, either in your own room or in his own barracks. Sometimes he would even lead you to one of the various training rooms, excitedly bouncing up and down as he showed you whatever new skill he had learned from the Mandalorians. Savage would come along on those trips a few times, watching from the corner of the room in silence as you caught up with one another. Jay seemed to be in better health than he was back home, even putting on some weight between the regular meals and all the training he was doing. His strength was ever growing, and you had to put in some actual effort when wrestling with him.

Now that he wasn’t an enemy in their eyes, he was quick to earn the other warriors respect, often earning greetings as you walked side by side through the halls. There was still some bad blood between you both and some of the soldiers, namely the same blond man who had injured you back on your planet, but it was only to be expected. They never dared to bother you though, resorting to scathing glares as they walked past, Jay leading you through the halls with practiced ease, something that you found yourself slightly jealous of.

The only times you ever really left the room were to visit your brother, neglecting to explore more of the ship even though the doors remain unlocked. The fear of getting yourself into trouble or stumbling upon one of the guards with ill intent was too real in your mind, and the unknown territory did nothing to put your mind at ease. After spending the majority or your life on the same planet, in the same village, following roughly the same routine year after year, it made you cautious around the unknown simply because you didn’t know how to deal with it.

Unfortunately, the behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Savage as you had though. Hoping he just didn’t care about what you did when he wasn’t around, or that he was providing ample time to acclimate to the new surroundings, all theories were crushed after he broached the topic a month into your stay.

“Why do you never leave this room? The doors are unlocked, and you are allowed to wander. It’s not as if you could escape, even if you wanted to.” He spoke, turning towards you and pulling you from the daze you had been caught in.

The question came out of the blue, and you had debated on lying to him. There was no point though, as withholding the truth did nothing to better the situation. So, with a small shrug of your shoulders you answered.

“I know no one here but my brother, and he finds himself more and more busy each day. If I were to run into anyone or get into any trouble, I fear what might happen. After all, I doubt the others, especially your brother, have any such fondness for me. I have no position on this ship.”

He said nothing, only staring at you a moment longer, eyes narrowed, before turning back to resume getting ready for bed.

You shrugged it off, figuring that he would drop the subject now that he had his answer. There was no reason he should have any concerns over your behavior further than that, and he acts no different when he pulls you into his chest that night, letting out a sigh as you begin humming lightly. Something you had done for Jay whenever he had trouble sleeping, and while trying to sooth yourself in the early nights of your forced companionship you discovered that he enjoyed it as well. The better mood he was in, the better things were for you, and you would be lying if you said that all the nights spent with him hadn’t warmed you up to the large Sith a bit, even if rationally you knew it was just a result of dependence and Stockholm.

Sleeping soundly as ever, it comes as almost a shock when he wakes you in the morning. Normally he would leave without so much as a word, so to be greeted with the sight of him standing above you, already dressed and shaking your shoulders roughly, was a bit of a surprise.

“Get dressed.” Is all he says, throwing the clothes in his hands into your lap before turning around to wait, facing the wall as you slip from your sleeping garments.

You do as he says, shedding your clothes and quickly slipping into the ones he had given you. The material was softer and nicer than anything you had ever owned, though still thick and heavy, providing warmth from the ever present cold of space. Upon closer inspection, you notice some stitching running all over the black fabric, which suspiciously resembles the same markings of his own skin.

How long had he had this? And why was he giving it to you now?

Before you can put too much thought into it, he’s turned back around. Golden eyes give you a once over, a small lift to his lips as he takes in your form before turning back to the door.

“Come.” Is all he says before exiting, leaving you to scramble and catch up as you pull on your shoes before running after him.

Once you do catch up, you still struggle to keep pace with him. His longer legs cover the same amount of ground as two of yours and he’s no slow walker. Taking place just behind him to his right, you catch him looking back over his shoulder to you. Now, certain that you’re following along, he begins pointing out different areas as you pass. Meeting rooms, offices where more notable figures could be found, even the control and engine rooms.

After a time of walking around the ship, you follow him to one of the previously mentioned training rooms to find Maul waiting for him.

“I see you managed to coax the little lolth out of her den.” His eyes flicker to you, practically burning into your skin and prompting you to hide behind Savage’s larger form. Said man ignores his brother’s words, instead directing you to stand by the door and out of the way as he removes some of his bulkier armor.

For the next two hours they spar, switching between simple hand-to-hand combat and using their lightsabers, which crackle and spark with every clash. Not only was the sight of such weapons enough to amaze you, having never seen anything but simple weapons and the occasional blaster from traders, but the strength that both Zabrak possess. While Maul is clearly strong, he still relies on his superior agility to remain out of Savage’s grasp, who’s not as jumpy but just as dangerous, crushing metal floors and walls a plenty with both raw strength and an invisible force.

You can’t help but watch with wide eyes at the display of raw power, unaware of exactly how much both men were showing off. Savage in earnest, taking secret pride in the way you watched, and Maul in more of a teasing way. He knew what his younger brother was doing, bringing you with him, and while he might have found it annoying if it was anyone else, he found it quite humorous in this case.

After both men conceded and caught their breath, Savage approached and took back the armor you had been holding for him until then. All the while you tried to avoid watching the way his now uncovered chest stretch and pulled with every movement, soon hidden beneath his many layers of clothing once again. At least you were able to confirm the theory about the markings, with identifiable parts matching up against the ones on your own clothing.

Despite the embarrassment of the subtle claiming, it was also a bit infuriating for him to do so without even telling you. It’s not like you could complain though. He technically owned you through the twisted rules of conquest.

The day wasn’t done however as you soon found yourself surrounded by others in the middle of what you surmised was a war meeting, standing just behind Savage as he discussed their next move with the others. No wonder he always came back so wound up. Just listening to all the arguing going on was enough to give anyone a headache, just like the one that was quickly coming to surface and pushing behind your own temples painfully.

Even with all the arguing going on, you were still aware of the stares you received and the whispers that followed. You tried not to pay them much mind to it, knowing they wouldn’t try to pull anything or speak out with Savage there. The same couldn’t be said for Maul, who did nothing to hide his disinterest as he continuously stole glances your way, clearly relishing in the discomfort he caused you.

By the time it was over, your legs were ready to fall off, feeling like jelly after spending hours standing during the meeting, which had stretched into late afternoon. Savage, seeming to sense your exhaustion, swept you off your feet and over his shoulder, all the while you were too tired to protest. Before you even made it back to the room you were out, the excitement of the day taking its toll and leaving Savage to deal with you, leaving both of you in your clothes from the day as he situated you in bed before curling his own form around yours.

If you had thought that your little adventure was just a one day thing, then you were dead wrong, treated to the same rude awakening, rushed out the door and forced to follow Savage around as he goes about his task.

This pattern repeats day after day, and he gradually begins giving you instructions and tasks. You’re led all over the ship, sent from one end to another on various orders for different people. Slowly, you start to become more comfortable and familiar with the surroundings. Finding your way around the ship is no longer a daunting task, with dark and ominous hallways that all looked the same becoming a well visualized mental map.

During the entire time you were learning, Savage was surprisingly patient. Not once did he get angry if you got lost, or took a while finding your way back. He simply just reminded you or where or what was needed in the same short tone he always used.

It took longer than you would care to admit, but eventually you caught on to what he was doing. He was getting you more familiar to the ship in his own way, practically forcing you to know the layout and interact with its occupants while turning you into his unofficial assistant. Thinking about it though, it is what he had said you would be doing in the first place.

Despite recognizing it as a form of slavery still, it made you feel lighter inside that he went out of his way to introduce the concept slowly, instead of just throwing you in headfirst. The feeling was quickly washed away as you remember who he was, beyond his interactions with you. A warlord and Sith who brought nothing but ruin to other planets, seeing them as nothing more than another part of their conquest and unfeeling for those he killed. Your planet was just one of the many to fall to their march.

Becoming familiar with the ship, there were obviously places that became your favorite to visit when there was time. Finding Jay, just to simply watch him progress while he trained and catch up, was the first thing you would do when given the time. Being around him also meant you were around the other Mandalorians, and you grew familiar with some, even friendly as they now extended their own greetings when seeing you run through the halls. It was comforting in a way, not feeling so isolated anymore.

Still, there were times where you simply wished to be by yourself. To take a break and attempt to forget the current situation you were in. The best place to do that was the large view port near the front of the ship.

It was a large window, spanning the entire length of the wall. You had discovered it by accident after getting lost once, taking a half hour to find your way back as there was nothing of importance close by and as a result there was little foot traffic. The lack of people made it perfect for thinking, and provided a beautiful view of the space beyond. It helped the wanderlust you held for the galaxies beyond, places you had never seen, nor had you ever thought you would see.

It was here you currently found yourself, relishing in the dim light of the stars passing outside and the atmosphere that came along with it. Savage would be expecting you back soon, but you could stretch it out a bit longer. Even if you were a bit late, he would only give a side look without saying anything against it.

So lost in the view beyond, you didn’t hear a set of footsteps approaching. Not until he speaks do you realize he’s even there.

“Nice view, eh?”

You jump, turning to face the young Mandalorian who holds his hands up in defense. Having never seen him before, even among the ranks of those who regularly populated the barracks and halls.

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” He smiled lightly, eyes crinkle at the action. “Just saw you standing all by yourself and figured you might want some company.”

Not really, you think to yourself. You came here to be alone after all, but there was no reason to be rude, especially since he had only approached with concern. Why not humor him with some small talk?

“It’s alright.” You smiled back, relaxing against the wall once again and content to continue the conversation. His questions are harmless, hardly even bordering on personal, but the way he seems to grow closer by the second puts a knot in your stomach, prompting you to slowly inch away. If he notices your discomfort he doesn’t mention it, only continuing his actions as his questions quickly turn more personal. Things such as ‘��do you have a boyfriend’ and ‘Which of the rooms are you assigned to?’.

“Listen, it’s been nice talking to you, but I really have to get back to work.” Sidestepping, you try to move around him, only for his hand to latch onto yours. You try to pull away, only for his grip to tighten painfully.

There’s no one around to help nor hear your struggles, and you curse yourself for allowing such a situation to occur. It’s one of the things you had been fearful of in the first place! There was still little you could do about the situation, fearful of the repercussions if you actually hurt him. But then again, Savage wouldn’t let them touch you, right? Surely he of all people would understand the need to protect yourself. He might even be glad you stood up for yourself! With that in mind, you swallowed thickly before drawing your arm back.

“Let go!” You cry, bringing your free hand down to deliver blow after blow. Each strike only bounces harmlessly off his armor, and it's only when you clock him across the face with a force that snaps his head back does he react.

He grunts, one hand coming up to staunch the blood now flowing freely from his now crooked nose. Long gone is the friendly smile, and in its place is a teeth gritting snarl as he tries to pull you closer.

“Listen here you little bitch! Why don’t you jus-”

He never gets to finish his sentence. Instead, he’s lifted into the air by seemingly nothing, eyes wide in shock, before being thrown against the wall with a force that shakes the ground.

It all happens in a split second, leaving no room to process what had just happened before your attention is drawn to thunderous footsteps approaching.

Savage’s aura is dark and menacing, almost tangible as he gets closer. It reminds you of the Rynic back home. Dangerous beast with razor sharp horns and needle like teeth. They were ill-tempered on the best of days, and it was better to just avoid them, should they take you as a threat and charge.

He was like that now, the intention to kill glaring, seeming more like his brother than ever before.

He says nothing, not even sparing a glance at the dazed Mandalorian who’s still pinned against the wall, bleeding nose now the least of his worries as the angry Sith comes closer. It's now you realize that he’s using whatever he had when fighting Maul. The Force, you had heard him call it before. Not something you were well versed in to give a lecture on, but knew enough about from the whispers of traders and those aboard the ship alike.

“How dare you.” He growls. “How dare you touch what is mine!”

It’s now you notice his clawed hand, fingers constricting even tighter in the air as he approaches and prompts more choking noises from the trapped man. His own hands pull uselessly at his throat, trying to free himself from the invisible force preventing him from breathing. His efforts are to no avail, and he’s left at the mercy of the enraged Zabrak as you helplessly watch.

Within seconds his skin is turning blue, color creeping in and spreading like a virus from his lips and eyes, which themselves have become webbed with red, bloodshot and panicked as they dart around the room before landing on your own frozen form.

‘He’s going to kill him.’ You realize with a chill. You knew he was violent, murderous, but he had never killed in front of you before. The sight of which had shocked you, but which was gradually wearing off. If you didn’t do something quick, he was going to die, and while he had assaulted you just moments ago you still felt no desire to see his life slip away before your very eyes.

So, with all the strength you could muster, you launched yourself at Savage’s back, throwing your arms over his shoulders and around his neck in a choke hold. He shook, trying to rid himself of your weight much like a dog would a flea, and while he almost succeeded dug in deeper, legs barely managing to reach around his wide waist, and locked your ankles together.

While one arm remained locked around his neck, the other reached out in an attempt to pull his extended hand down. Maybe if you managed to drag it away from its current position pointed at the Mandalorian, it would break some sort of connection.

It's almost laughable how little you can do against his vastly superior strength, and any hope that you can actually do anything is a pipe dream, leaving you nothing but words as you plea for him to stop.

“Savage! This is crazy!” He seems to not hear, only grunting in mild annoyance as his only response.

By this point the man has stopped struggling, his once struggling form slowing to a stop as his kicking legs simply dangle alongside his hands. He looks like a corpse already, and if not for the occasional jerk of his chest as he tries to suck in air still.

“If I’m anything to you, if I've ever been anything to you, then stop! Spare him!”

Something in your words seems to shake him, his head tilting lightly to catch your gaze over his shoulder. He pauses, hatred full eyes softening just a fraction, before his arm drops. The man’s body follows suit, falling the four feet to the floor, unconscious yet alive. There’s no time to be relieved however, as now with the advantage of both hands, Savage reaches around and grabs you by the collar, easily pulling you over his shoulder where he then proceeds to drag you along the floor, ignoring the way you kicked and struggled as he made his way through familiar halls. Anyone you saw did nothing, content with ignoring what was going on before their very eyes as you made your way to your destination.

A sense of dread filled your stomach as he roughly tossed you onto the bed of your room. There wasn’t even time to bounce off the soft surface before you were pinned down. Large hands worm their way under your clothes, discarding the layers and sashes with ease.

“S-stop! Stop!” You squirm, finally managing to pull away and spin around to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His face is a mixture of anger and confusion, as if he can’t believe the way you’re reacting.

“What am I doing? I’m protecting you, that’s what I’m doing!” His finger stabs accusingly in your direction, voice tinge with disbelief. “You’re so weak and defenseless! If I hadn't come along then who knows what might have happened.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did he really think that you were so incompetent, so incapable? New rage burned through your veins, emboldening you as you stood chest to chest with him. Your neck was tilted at an uncomfortably angle as you glared at his towering figure.

“Helpless? I got along just fine before you came and kidnapped me! Now I’m living on a foreign ship with people who killed my entire village and two psychotic Zabrak, one of which has some weird obsession with me and has reduced me to nothing more than a glorified secretary!”

He stiffened, aura growing increasingly menacing with every second. His hands flexed, clenching and unclenching by his sides. All of which was lost on you, too far gone and fed up with being ordered around without a choice. Now that the dam had burst, there was no holding it back.

“I would have handled the situation myself! I’ve dealt with far more handsy and stronger men than him! Furthermore I am not some toy to be fought over by grown men acting like children!” You pushed your finger into his chest to emphasize the point, feeling his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath. It's too late that you realize your mistake, and you doubt any amount of groveling will get you out of this one.

Instead, you back up slowly, wearily watching as you back away from his still form. His markings shine in stark contrast in the dim light of the room as he squares his shoulders, blocking any room for escape as he approaches. You’re forced back with every step, retreating until you find yourself backed into a corner. Fleetingly, your eyes dart around the room, landing on the door that seems light years away. If you could just make it there and out in the halls beyond then..then..

Then nothing. You were trapped. Even if you managed to escape, where would you go? He would find you, stuck on this ship, eventually.

Quicker then you’re able to process, one of his arms whips forward, cutting off any route of escape and causing the metal to vibrate with the impact. The ear closest rings dully, and you don;t even have to look to know that he’s left a dent. Hot breath fans across your skin as you stare wide eyed at the floor, not daring to look up and meet his gaze. Heart racing so fast, its amazing you can still hear over the thudding in your ears as he speaks.

“Has the lull of space dulled your senses, or have you forgotten what I said when I saved you from that pitiful little planet you called home. The one so barren and empty that you had to import all your goods. Where you were forced to do back breaking labor in order to survive, if that's what you want to call it.”

The words are like daggers, sinking deeper the longer he speaks as you're reminded of your previous circumstances. You had survived, yes, but could you really consider it living? Then again, how was it any better than your current situation? Instead of having the freedom to provide for yourself, you were forced to bow under the will of others and hope that they were kind enough to keep you around and alive.

He draws closer, leaving you nowhere to go and feeling entirely too claustrophobic.

“You. Belong. To me. I saved you! I'm your protector! And I can do whatever I want to you.”

His once quiet tone has risen to a yell, seeming to shake the very air and finally breaking your resolve.

A whimper leaves your quivering lips. Hardly louder than a whisper, but in the deathly still room it’s like a blaster shot, prompting the sith to freeze. Slowly, his hand raises. Ignoring the way you flinch away as he grips your jaw, he forces you to look at him directly. The calloused skin of his hands scratches at your own as he wipes away the tears now flowing freely. You hadn’t even realized you were crying, but the discovery breaks a sob from deep within.

He rears back like he’s been stung, leaving you feeling cold in the absence of his scorching skin. Stepping forward once again only results in a choking sound escaping your throat, freezing him in his tracks.

“I-I didn’t…” Words fading, his gaze moves from his own hands to your shaking frame and back again. A silent war goes on within him as the voices in his head fight for dominance. All the while you’re left to watch in fear for his next move.

With one last angry growl, he turns on heel and storms out of the room. The familiar beeping of the lock sounds, sealing your fate and you in the room.

Savage doesn’t return for seemingly hours, though it's unknown how long exactly as there was no way to keep track of time. All you know is that, after getting your tears under control and fixing your clothes back into place, you climbed onto the cot and fell into an exhausted sleep, constantly tossing and turning with your nightmares, yet forgetting them the moment you wake, drenched in sweat and shaking.

When you're woken once more, you nearly hurl yourself off the bed as bleary eyes spot a shadowy figure standing above. A hand clasp your ankle tightly before you can even move, pulling rough and dragging you to the edge where they then proceed to hold you in place with their legs alone. The entire time you struggle, kicking and squirming, which is quickly brought to an end as a startling familiar large hand grasps you by the nape, forcing your face into the blankets as he speaks.

“Hold still.”

It's Savage, you realize with a start. The shock of which stills your motions long enough for him to slip something around your neck. The foreign object was stiff, yet not uncomfortable apart from the fact that it was too tight to ignore.

Once in place, he released his grip, allowing you to escape and stumble your way towards the bathroom. The luminescent light was nearly blinding as it flicked on, revealing your latest accessory in the reflective surface of the mirror.

A collar. He had put a collar on you, like you were some sort of pet.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, hand ghosting over the offending wardrobe addition. The majority itself was made up of a thick black material, almost like steel woven fabric. Tilting it forward for a better look, you could see a thick layer of cushion-like material that you assumed was to keep from rubbing the delicate skin of your neck raw. In the very center was the only addition to the otherwise minimal design.

At first you thought it was a tooth or claw of some sort, the rough cone coming to a sharp point. The edges had clearly been smoothed, though you hated to think of how sharp the end was before receiving the dulling treatment.

Movement from the edge of the mirror disrupts your pondering, drawing attention to the lurking Savage. Not wanting a repeat of your last encounter, you're quick to exit the small room, ducking under his sweeping arm as you go.

“What is this!”

You seethe, keeping careful watch and making sure to keep ample distance as you circle the room. He seems unconcerned by your rage, simply watching with a hint of smugness to his heavy features.

“A gift.”

A gift? Was this some kind of sick joke for him? A punishment for what happened yesterday perhaps?

As if sensing your confusion, Savage indulges you and explains further.

“You’ve made it clear that you wish to retain some form of independence, as laughable as the idea is. That,” he gestures to the item around your neck. “Is one of my own horns. As clear of warning there can be, since you seem so against me killing the fools who think to oversteps boundaries.”

You blink owlishly, hand moving to the organic charm. Taking a closer look, you saw that he was indeed down one of his normal crown protrusions, sawn cleanly from his right side.

“Come. You’ve sulked long enough.” He leaves the room, not even sparing a glance back to see if you were following, which of course you were. While he framed it as being for your own benefit, you knew what it really was.

A claim. A warning. However you wanted to phrase it. It all boiled down to one thing; you were his property, and this was his way of showing it. More merciful, and less humiliating, than other ways he could have done so, you surmised.

So, with great reluctance you followed him, feet shuffling and head down.

____Bonus_____

Few things in Maul’s life had given him the same amusement he felt now. From across the room he watched as you sulked after his brother, clearly unhappy. Your displeasure was easy to detect even for those that weren’t force sensitive.

The ‘necklace’, as it was kindly called, rather than the collar it more closely resembled, was already in place and on full display for all. Clearly you were unaware of the implications of what Savage had given you, otherwise your reaction would be of a highly different kind.

The broken horn fragment gleamed, and he noted that he had dulled it just as advised. Though he would have gone for a different design. Something more elegant, and less flashy. It did the job though, screaming his claim and ensuring only an idiot would dare to question his claim, lest they attempt to challenge him for the right to court you. If he didn’t know Savage any better, he might have thought that he was moving extraordinary fast in his advances, but he was one for action first and thinking later, just like when he had those robes made for you.

One thing was for sure, and that was how much he was looking forward to the ensuing chaos. After all, Savage was no ordinary Zabrak, and these were no ordinary circumstances. It was highly unusual for his kind to take mates outside their species after all.

#savage opress x reader #savage opress #savage x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars x reader #yandere #yandere savage #yandere savage opress #yandere x reader #darth maul #tcw #tcw x reader #star wars the clone wars

217 notes · View notes

cursedcleopatra · 3 years ago

Note

Ok what are your best flirting / seduction tips? I’m going to be engaged next year 💍💍💍💍 don’t have a boyfriend yet tho :)

LOL I love the confidence!! Honestly, that’s the first tip! Confidence looks sexy on everybody, nothing is ever awkward unless you look insecure or uncomfortable, and being secure in yourself attracts other confident people too. And humor is a big one! Don’t be afraid to be witty, it’s a memorable trait. And this one is super important—AESTHETICS. Never underestimate how powerful a carefully constructed wardrobe is, invent your own unique personal style and signature makeup that speaks about you before you even open your mouth. Your entire appearance—your hair, your perfume, your makeup and fashion, it should all be screaming your identity! It’s okay to be inspired by other outfits, but please don’t copy…it doesn’t stick out. Seduction is all about being particularly memorable and magnetic, and if you present yourself in a way other people already do then you’ve lost that advantage. And remember—this extends into your living space too. When you invite someone into your apartment or wherever you live, everything should match your chosen aesthetic, even the scents you choose for your home. Being a person who takes care of themselves in all terms (personal hygiene, physical activity, clean living space, developed passions and hobbies, expansive knowledge, etc) is also incredibly important—when you value yourself, you’re setting the standard for your partner. Establishing space is also important in the beginning—alternating between lots of love and attention and calculated detachment is very tricky and must be done with purpose, if the person becomes aware of what you’re doing then you’ve done it completely wrong. I know it sounds cold and bitchy maybe but you’ll constantly be played by men if you don’t learn to control the situation yourself—men do exactly the same thing and don’t let them tell you otherwise. And remember: a little distance should NEVER mean disrespect, do NOT try to make someone jealous, you will just look like a desperate inexperienced clown. This phase shouldn’t drag on for way too long, it’s only there to test the person and create a little resistance. And obviously…romance!! Everybody thinks the honeymoon phase has to end but it’s absolutely not true, you should always treat your partner like you’re still trying to get with them. Everybody wants to feel intensely desired, it’s important to know when to feed that emotion. Your partner should feel like the best version of themselves with you, like you’ve made them into a God. This isn’t limited to sexual desire of course, in fact it should mostly not be. It’s incredibly easy to make someone hard but what you want is to make them melt for you, the more you nourish your nonsexual intimacy the more passionate your sex life will be actually. Being seductive and playing the game never has to be toxic, you can still maintain your personal dignity and protect your heart while respecting the other person and being healthy for them. Ignore any advice that encourages toxic, controlling or manipulative behavior—that’s not seduction, that’s abuse. To summarize: seduction is about magnetism and memorability, highlighting the best parts of your love interest’s personality and slowly dragging them out, and most importantly: being healthy and true to your values the entire time.

14 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 4 years ago

Note

what moment are you talking about? I must have missed it

Hi anon,

I’m referring to Caduceus’s response to Caleb showing them the rooms, around 2:16:00-ish in Twitch VOD and how he doesn’t think Caleb is using them correctly.

I’m about to talk a lot below as I am wont to do because the mood here is pretty much always Time for My Opinion but in short, Caduceus, while insightful, often has very specific ideas of the correct way to deal with problems, and often they’re understandable from his own experiences, upbringing, and philosophy, but they’re not actually good for the person he’s talking to, and also he has a dangerous combination of insight and a disinclination towards probing further, even when that would be beneficial (such as here; I’m no expert on trauma but I am generally aware that most modern therapies involve some degree of exposure to elements of said trauma, in that it’s difficult to truly avoid everything that might potentially be a trigger and so it’s crucial to develop lifelong healthy coping mechanisms and ways to process. We also know as viewers, though Caduceus doesn’t necessarily, that Caleb’s original goal was to undo the past; having a safe place he controls to just exist in past settings and think of both the good and bad seems positive to me).

So this seemed particularly egregious - telling someone who you know is traumatized that they’re doing it wrong without getting the full picture - but it’s not a new pattern of behavior. I think, however, it might be the first time the whole party saw it and the first time it’s been turned full force on Caleb, which is why I wonder what will happen there.

(here ends the initial answer; below is a long and slightly low-on-sleep ramble about this being an ongoing theme with Caduceus).

Okay so Caduceus would in fact make a terrible therapist and not even because he answers a lot of questions in vague portentous analogies (I love me a vague portentous analogy), or because cast references to Freud aside this is a world that doesn’t have the same language about mental illness and trauma.

When Caduceus gets it right he really gets it right, but he’s gotten it really wrong with some frequency. He is a man of limited and specific experiences and often carries over those experiences into areas where they no longer apply. I should note: I love this as a character choice. It’s one Taliesin has arguably made with all of his major characters, in some form. I think it stands out for Caduceus so much specifically because he is mechanically very wise and incredibly insightful and because he has such limited experience, and because his limited experience includes a lot of advice-giving and ministering but under highly specific circumstances that no longer are his entire world.

Insight is about knowing what a person intends or is feeling, but it does not equal knowing what to say to them. Insight doesn’t erase the very human or I guess in this case sentient being tendency to overlay one’s own biases. In fact, being very insightful can worsen that, since someone who isn’t good at reading people but is aware of that fact will stop and listen to the person they’re talking to instead of relying on the insight over the literal words someone is saying (insert my philosophy here; yeah people lie and deflect, but also there is a reason they are lying and deflecting and often playing along while taking precautions to care for them in a way they will receive it is more effective than ignoring them). When I say Fjord, Yasha, and to an extent Veth are often the best listeners in the party I’m not joking: all of them have mediocre wisdom at best, but that means they tend to ask questions and keep a relatively open mind. I don’t think that most of the Nein really get what Caleb’s doing with these rooms, and that’s fine! But I think most of the others at least realized that they don’t have the full picture, or that this wasn’t the time to bring it up.

Ultimately, Caduceus has experience with three broad groups of people: the recently bereft (which has some applications towards people currently in crisis), run-of-the-mill criminals, and family. When experiences can’t be extrapolated from those groups, he often struggles. We saw this with Trent; I said at the time and I still strongly maintain that his speech probably did little or nothing to Trent. Trent probably went to bed that night thinking “Ha! That bumpkin firbolg called me, a high-level wizard, a fool!” and forgot it by morning. Which doesn’t make the speech useless; I think even if it didn’t land the mere act of someone being wholly unimpressed by Trent is extremely valuable for Astrid and Eodwulf - and Caleb, for that matter - to see. But I don’t think it was a mic drop moment.

Caduceus has rigid ideas of the correct way to be, and it’s not a bad ideal but it’s a narrow one. He tends to value family and respect and responsibility, and he has an eye on the big picture and consequences in a way many people do not, and those are great. Within his scope of experience he’s often good - Gustav and The Gentleman, for example, are both solidly in the “Shady Creek Run types” category and Caduceus was able to speak with them very effectively. But outside of that and not only does he not get it, but he often is unwilling to hear it because he already has what he believes to be the right answer.

In a way, Caduceus is often good at telling people they are enough and that they will be okay and get through this, which is exactly what most mourners need to hear, but sometimes you need to hear “I don’t get what you’re doing but I’m here if you need me,” and sometimes you even need to hear “that was fucking stupid but I still love you” (note: Caleb falls into the former in this scenario). He’s got a good strategy for the life he lived for upwards of 80 years but he needs to change if he’s going to continue to be a person who is good at advising, and he really struggles with that! As said, it’s a great character choice even as I’m screaming “pretty sure this is the wrong way to deal with someone’s trauma!” because it’s so indicative of what Caduceus himself is going through.

I’m not asking for a judgement-free zone - lord knows anywhere I exist will not be one - but like, in a nod to a whole other tangent about religion I cut out because this is ridiculously long already, Caduceus could stand to internalize “who is wise? One who learns from everyone.” Or even just “know what you don’t know.”

#caduceus clay #caleb widogast #critical role spoilers #critical role #it's so interesting also because caduceus has no problems admitting ignorance of like basically anything else #but he Will Not admit or even realize he doesn't know everything about psychology such as it exists #long post #meta #Anonymous

82 notes · View notes

gazelonger · 4 years ago

Text

the volume of the universe

As much as Buck loves his job, some days are better than others. And this one—this one was plain bad.

Call after call, no food in his stomach, a literal drop of coffee that had scorched his tongue and didn’t give him even the slightest burst of energy he had hoped it would—Buck couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Even though Eddie has been unbearably righteous, Buck would have to agree with him; the last call was superbly boring compared to everything else.

And as much of a reprieve it had been, something about it left Buck thinking it was a bad sign. It didn’t help him feel any more settled than he was before—if anything the complete opposite—and he can’t sit still when they all clamber back into the cabin.

The jinx definitely had not gone away.

The universe does not scream, Eddie says, and there is a sudden, raw dryness in Buck’s throat and a deep chill in his bones. He doesn’t have long to think much about it beyond vaguely wondering if he’s developing a cold before the wind blows sparks from the live power pole leaning against the ladder truck, and Buck’s attention is drawn elsewhere.

It isn’t until later, until his eyes are scanning, unseeing, over some page in the book in his lap that his therapist assigned to him, that he’s replaying the conversation in his head and reminded of what Eddie said. Of how his body had reacted to it.

Out of everything that had been said in the cabin, that one bit of it affected Buck more than anything else, even more than the potentiality of almost being electrocuted to death. But it’d been hours since then and Buck can’t shake it.

It makes sense that it would elicit a reaction from him, he supposes.

For as long as Buck could remember, he had been keenly aware of the universe and its workings.

(Keep reading here or on AO3)

His mother’s shrill voice and his father’s misleadingly paternal one had reminded him time and again that the world is an uncertain place. He’d been told since he was young that he needed to look after himself because no other person could do it for him, let alone the universe.

Early on, the warning accompanied some form of coddling as the stern reminder that Buck probably could have stood to listen to. And it did work the trick for a little while; or it certainly used to scare the hell out of him, at least. Used to make him look both ways before crossing empty streets, made him scan people up and down in the halls at school for some imperceptible threat that was never there.

Eventually, though, Buck forced himself to swallow that fear. More than he needed to look after himself, he needed his parents to give him some kind of attention. Some kind of recognition that he existed. He needed it like he needed air to breathe, and all regard for his personal safety could come later.

Maddie was gone and there was no one to talk to, no one to get him out of his head when he got stuck there for too long, no one to even look at him. The house was too quiet without her. It was too empty. It was almost like he could feel himself disappearing.

And his parents were too occupied with themselves to appreciate Buck’s efforts to heed their advice, anyway, so there wasn’t really a point in continuing to do so.

Buck missed the attention that getting into trouble would guarantee him, missed the fond exasperation and the headshakes paired with tight-lipped smiles.

And so he started acting out again, and the warning came back as he expected it would. But the resigned expressions of worry and love didn’t. In their place was a convoluted, angry, wild type of hurt directed towards Buck that he could never wrap his head around.

The world is an uncertain place, they would yell. What used to be a reminder that he should be more careful steadily became a furious, desperate plea for Buck to stop putting himself in death’s way.

But Buck didn’t care. Or he pretended not to—it was hard to tell sometimes. Regardless, he continued to tempt the universe.

He was messing with things that were bigger than him, that could have gotten him killed, and he was adamantly reckless about it.

It got to him every once in a while, how dangerous he was being. He was just a kid, after all; and he didn’t like getting hurt, he didn’t like almost dying. It left him rattled each time, left him shaking for hours and hours like he was freezing. Left him wishing he’d listen to his parents because maybe this time they’d be proud of him for it.

Even if he actively sought out the trouble—like the time he couldn’t get over his parents missing another football game and he taunted the biggest looking guy on the opposing team who then tackled Buck so hard that he had to be carried off the field—he would still feel unsettled and frustrated with himself afterwards. And it wasn’t because of the grade two concussion or whatever injuries he’d sustained.

He knew he was on a messy path.

So he tried to be okay with the hand he was dealt, tried to be okay with the fact that there was something about him that must repel his parents—that must have repelled Maddie. He decided to just keep his head low.

But no matter how actively he tried to stop seeking out trouble, it seemed to follow him anyway. Like a shadow.

Buck would be in class taking a test and his eyes would wander for a moment before he would get in trouble for cheating.

Or he would be riding his motorbike and would crash hard into a car that had run a red light—or maybe that he was too angry to see—and end up needing stitches.

Or he would spot a few guys from his lecture hall the money for a couple kegs and get blamed for the whole party.

(Or he would be sitting shotgun in the ladder truck before there was an audible BOOM , and he would come to pinned beneath it.)

Despite the fairly harmless ways he still acted out, even years after he reached adulthood, it was like the universe was finally getting its payback for Buck’s lifelong insolence.

Buck’s parents were only partially correct, he’d figured out. The world was an uncertain place. But it could be a certain place—if you learned to pay attention to it. And at some point, paying attention to the ways of the universe was necessary to survive.

Learning to respect it came naturally.

Even when he wasn’t actively seeking out trouble, when he wasn’t toying with fate, anything that happened to him was just what he had coming to him for almost three decades of unruly, disobedient behavior. Every heart-stopping, bone-crushing blow he faced was inarguably the universe’s way of saying this much is squared away between us, but we are far from even.

So after the day the one-eighteen had had, when they were sitting in the cabin and avoiding electrocution, Buck was practically thrumming with how much attention he was giving to everything the universe was saying to them. To him.

He knew that he tripped while he was booking it up the ladder on the first call because he was the one who had asked the probie the question which had triggered the whole day. It was the same way that, three years ago, the fire suppression system had been triggered on him because he was the one who had said the q-word.

It was, exactly as Hen called it, divine retribution.

The universe had a sense of humor, and Buck wasn’t deaf to it.

Eddie was, though. Much to Buck’s dismay.

Buck couldn’t stand it. It left him frustrated, his hackles raising and his words coming quicker and more clipped each time he spoke. Without realizing it, he was leaning forward in his seat, his hands gesturing as widely as they could without accidentally bumping against the window or the metal of the cabin or Hen sitting pressed next to him.

It was rare that he was the one to take something seriously while Eddie was the one to make a joke out of it, and Buck didn’t like the change of pace. Especially when it came to the universe.

The same universe which had crushed his leg, which had caused his blood to clot, which had put him and Christopher in the middle of a tsunami, was the same one that was not letting up on this day.

Why couldn’t Eddie see that, too?

That was hours ago, and the loft was quiet now as he, Hen, and Chimney read while Bobby tinkered around in the kitchen. But Buck is still thinking about it.

Buck knows that the universe can scream, knows that it is capable of doing far worse than screaming; he knows it like he knows the back of his hand.

But he tries to think about it from Eddie’s perspective.

Buck knows that Eddie is at least a little superstitious. All the remotes in his house still being in a basket on top of the refrigerator are proof enough of that.

But aside from that, Eddie has that medallion on him at all times like it’s a lifeline. And even if it really is just the reminder of Christopher being what comforts Eddie, Buck remembers the frenzied way he had scoured the floor of the locker room that one time it fell out of his pocket and he couldn’t find it right away. Remembers the blind panic in his eyes when he realized it was missing. Remembers the way Eddie’s body had sagged in relief and he brought the medallion to his lips and held it there after he found it underneath his duffle.

Buck also knows that Eddie likes maintaining control over his surroundings. He is proud of the choices he makes, he stands by them—like his choice to move himself and Christopher to LA.

He even claimed today not to worry about those things that he just doesn’t have direct control over.

Those things, Buck knows—even though Eddie didn’t say it—include Shannon’s death. Which, almost two years later, Buck knows Eddie is still struggling to come to terms with. Probably exactly because he had no control over it and couldn’t stop it from happening no matter how much he wishes he could have been able to.

So maybe the idea that some things are out of his reach, that some things are beyond his own will and happen for a reason, is too hard to comprehend.

Maybe, to Eddie, the idea that the universe is an active entity is too overwhelming a thought.

Overwhelming in the same way that it was to Buck when he was ten years old and couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze because he didn’t know what the world would do to him if he tested it.

So maybe Buck could be a little more empathetic.

But it just—it bothers him.

Underestimating the universe never ends well, and there is a tight feeling in Buck’s chest when he thinks that Eddie might be forced to realize that at some point.

The universe does not scream, Eddie had said. He had outright refused to believe that Buck was right.

The dryness in Buck’s throat is back, catching him off guard. A shiver runs down his spine and his fingers twitch against the page he still hasn’t read.

For the second time that day, Buck worries that he might be catching a cold. It was autumn, sure, but Buck just didn’t get colds. Irrationally he thinks it might be the virus, but he knows it’s not that, knows that a sore throat isn’t one of the symptoms and he can breathe just fine and he tested negative yesterday .

(He’ll take another one tomorrow, anyway. Just to be safe.)

Buck doesn’t understand what it is about the statement that leaves him feeling this way, leaves him feeling like he’s caught in the rain—

The rain. Screaming.

Oh.

Buck is stricken with a sudden memory of a cold shift from the year before. Of when they’d almost lost Eddie.

The storm came from nowhere and was gone just as quick. Buck usually liked the rain since it was so rare in LA—he didn’t like how it made his clothes damp and how it made his hair stick to his skin, although there is something different and less bothersome about it while he’s working—but on this day he hated it.

Or, well—no—he didn’t hate the rain, even then. He hated what it did to the earth. It soaked the ground through with water and turned it into thick and gooey mud. It had slipped through his hands like squishable sand, and had become packed deep beneath the surface, closing in on the well that Eddie was suddenly, horrifyingly, utterly trapped in.

The panic Buck felt in that moment nearly swallowed him whole.

And—as awful as it sounds—Buck isn’t a stranger to thinking the people he loves are dying.

He remembers the plane crash from his fifth month on the job. His SEAL training was the only reason he managed to avoid drowning in the unruly waves of the Pacific as he watched the remainder of the plane sink with Bobby still inside of it.

He remembers the silence over the radio when Hen didn’t respond during the earthquake. His jaw had locked into place and he was wobbly on his feet in a way that had nothing to do with the unnatural angle of the building.

He remembers finding Chimney lying on the ground outside of Maddie’s apartment. Chimney’s blood had pooled beneath Buck’s knees, the warmth of it seeping through Buck’s pants and his fingers where he held his hands over Chim’s stomach, staining his skin and his clothes.

He remembers miles of white landscape stretching out in front of him. The snow soaked his clothes and the soles of his shoes as he sprinted, his lungs burning, searching for any sign of Maddie. The sight of her stumbling hundreds of yards away with wet, raggedy hair and dark red all over.

He remembers the dread in his gut at the sound of a loud splash, turning around to see Christopher gone, having fallen into the water when the second wave came. Buck never saw Christopher come above the surface.

This, though. This was different.

Buck might have reacted the same as he did in some of those other situations, his instincts taking hold immediately and controlling everything he did. But he barely remembers the split second where he realized Eddie was trapped. All he knew was that he needed to get to him and then his bare hands were in the mud and someone was screaming.

Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! No! E-Eddie! Eddie, no! Eddie, no!

He didn’t realize it was him at first. Didn’t realize it until Bobby was pulling him back and he fell into his lap and started hyperventilating—sobbing, really—unable to breathe and the screaming had stopped.

(He wouldn’t have been able to stand if Bobby hadn’t grabbed him under his arms and hauled him up, all but dragging him towards the house to get his hands washed to give him something to do.)

But Buck had actually screamed himself hoarse. Woke up the next morning with a sore throat and everything.

Eddie never knew what happened after the well collapsed. Never watched the broadcast of it, not wanting to remember more than he had to. Buck couldn’t blame him; he never filled Eddie in on the details, either. It was too touchy a subject to broach, and, besides, Buck wasn’t too keen on wanting to relive the moment himself.

What happened to Eddie wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have been him. The universe had no right to take him that day—and thankfully it knew as much, because Eddie had come back and was alive and made it home to Christopher and had spent the whole day today being a softcore bully.

The universe knew it wasn’t Eddie’s time. And while it might have been the one to send that lightning bolt down, triggering everything, it was just as responsible for spitting Eddie out of that lake.

Buck was sure of that.

So while Eddie might argue that the universe does not scream, he wouldn't know that Buck had screamed for it.

It’s at that point that Buck remembers that he is not, in fact, in the freezing rain. That Eddie is not buried thirty feet below him.

He is sitting in the loft in the firehouse. Eddie is in the bunks, probably sound asleep by now.

Buck swallows thickly, his throat still dry as his body recovers from getting lost in the memory. He shifts in the chair he’s sitting in and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fog that has settled over his brain.

The loft is quiet. The only sounds to be heard are the occasional scrape of paper against skin as Chimney or Hen turn a page in the books they are reading, and the light tapping of metal as Bobby puts some leftovers from a dinner they finally had been given time to eat into tupperware.

It’s familiar, this, and it’s grounding in a way that Buck feels himself being steadily brought back to the present. Tension releases from his shoulders when he rolls them.

“You okay, Buck?” Bobby asks from where he’s busying himself behind the island.

Buck’s eyebrows lift, and he looks over to see Bobby watching him with mild curiosity.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He lifts his book off his lap slightly as if to say I’m just reading, and offers what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile.

Satisfied, Bobby nods, too, and then resumes whatever he was doing.

Buck takes a deep breath. He needs to actually read the book if he doesn’t want to be reprimanded by his therapist—which he doesn’t. He looks down at the page he was on, slightly regretting having zoned out. But he’ll be able to focus now, he figures.

The loft is quiet. Eddie is sleeping downstairs.

It’s almost a jarring juxtaposition from the rest of the day, where the universe hadn’t given any of them a single moment to catch their breaths. But maybe the jinx has worn off now—Buck can admit that he isn’t totally sure how it works.

Either way, something in his chest has been settled now.

The universe can be quiet, too.

#911 on fox #evan buckley #buck buckley #evan buck buckely #oneshot #buddie #(if u squint)#i posted this on ao3 last week-ish #but i wanted to post it here too #i just havent gotten around to it yet #but this is just an exploration of buck & his relationship w the universe #character analysis

35 notes · View notes

shihalyfie · 5 years ago

Text

A meta on Miyako, and her position in the 02 group

One piece of cultural context that tends to get lost in translation a lot when it comes to Digimon is the relative order of who’s older than whom. Of course, in any country, the difference between an eleven-year-old and a twelve-year-old is still pretty significant, but in East Asian culture, that single year is A Big Deal. (This is why Adventure’s first episode has everyone introduce themselves with their grade levels, even though it seems pointless to do this with otherworldly creatures.)

So Miyako’s the oldest in the 02 group. Let’s talk about Miyako!

Digimon being a series that loves to play with preconceived expectations, it’s probably no surprise that the oldest one is...not exactly the stellar example of an esteemed elder. Despite being the oldest, Miyako is one of the biggest disaster children in the entire group, with only Daisuke competing for that position.

On top of that, we then start bringing Japanese honorifics into play, which throws another wrench into it, because that single year can be the difference between a -san and a -kun, and that will be drilled into your head as the kids talk to each other over the course of the whole series. This is why leaving honorifics in translation is such a disputed topic in localization debates to this day (because it does have a lot of information on how characters see each other), and even I have to admit that while I’m normally in the “cut them out!” camp, I’m so accustomed to their usage in Digimon that I’m still using the honorifics in fanfic because of how weird it feels to drop them now (even though this relegates me to the hell of maintaining an Excel spreadsheet).

Let’s look at the honorifics chart for Miyako. What do the others in the team call her?

Daisuke: Miyako

Iori: Miyako-san

Takeru: Miyako-san

Hikari: Miyako-san

Ken: Miyako-san

Well, would you look at that. Every single person except for Daisuke uses -san on her. By the time you’ve gotten to the end of the series, the association between Miyako and the “respect honorific” is probably going to be pretty high. And in fact, Daisuke did accidentally slip into using -san on her, in a moment of being a bit out of it in episode 30. Miyako’s response? “It feels weird when you add the -san.” Really, the only reason he doesn’t use the honorific with her seems to only really be because of how close he is with her -- he uses proper honorifics on all other elders, but Miyako’s enough of a fellow disaster child that he’s comfortable getting a bit more in her face.

This isn’t the first time the series had pulled out the idea of “the oldest one is actually not very reliable”, of course -- infamously, Jou was the oldest in the Adventure group, something he even took as a reason that he was supposed to be the most responsible, but unfortunately was...simultaneously the most reliable and unreliable. In the end, of course, everyone came to learn that he’d pull through...eventually, but he (especially in the first half) had a lot of an aura of exasperation and occasional “uh...is he gonna be okay...” doubt around him.

But this isn’t quite the case for Miyako.

One interesting thing about Miyako is that even when she shows off some of her worst traits in front of them -- being shallow over appearances, being a little too over-the-top, or sometimes losing control over herself...nobody really holds it against her. Even when she was fangirling over Ichijouji Ken in episode 8, Daisuke seems more taken aback than he has any criticisms about her behavior, Iori only points out that she normally wouldn’t be into younger boys, and eventually everyone moves on from the topic.

In fact, people getting exasperated over her only generally seems to happen on the actual spot, and only when things really hit peak. Nobody ever really holds things like “Miyako’s into hot guys” over her head once all is said and done -- in fact, nobody ever really criticizes Miyako’s personality or behavior or expresses doubt in her ability to do something much whenever there’s no need to. Whenever Miyako does do something disastrously bad, nobody brings the incident up again. It’s more like an “oh, dear, please help us” whenever things do get bad...and then they all move on and forgive her.

In fact, the only times any major criticisms or doubts about Miyako’s personality or reliability come out are from episode 31, which, of course, was also a major character building episode for her...

...and note the contexts these came in: the first is from Daisuke, who’s the one person on the team known to be comfortable with constantly bantering with her (and is also comparing her to Hikari, whom we know he puts on a pedestal), and the second is Hikari laying down an extremely mild criticism of her character that actually is quickly followed by an admission that she envies her for that aspect of her (because Hikari is on the other extreme, being emotionally repressive and unable to voice her feelings well).

Ken joins the team halfway into the series, and although he’s a polite person in general (he also calls Hikari “Hikari-san”, even though she’s the same age as him), there’s actually enough to indicate he also looks up to her with respect.

I say that Miyako was the second person after Daisuke to bid for Ken joining the group, but one of the really, really important parts that shouldn’t be forgotten here is that it was the exact same episode (25) -- Daisuke starts making proposals to the other kids to bring him in and makes his first move to reach out at the beginning, and Miyako at the end. In terms of the actual series’s chronology, this was only a single day of difference...and it’s not until six more episodes when we get our next person (Hikari) openly showing receptiveness (even then, Hikari doesn’t actually vocalize this besides dropping him a line in 34, so Ken may not have really felt anyone’s opinion on him really changing until then, or until Takeru in 37).

So we have Daisuke and Miyako openly accepting Ken at virtually the same time (Miyako made it very clear to him that she was open to him through her email at the end of episode 25). The two of them took very different approaches in reaching out to Ken thereafter -- Daisuke decided to be a bit more aggressive and in-your-face, and, ultimately, became the one who emotionally connected with him the best (because with someone like Ichijouji Ken, there are barriers you need to be breaking). Miyako’s stance was to give him space and let him join on his own terms, and while this didn’t get her nearly as emotionally close to him, it did actually have an interesting side effect where he initially seemed to be a lot more comfortable about approaching her (because she’s a little more gentle in approaching him, so she’s not as intimidating and doesn’t bring up the Complicated Feelings associated with his changing relationship with Daisuke, at least until he finally does figure those out in the end).

He actually “tacitly nods” at Miyako in battling with her during the events of episode 25 (and this is notable in that this was before she sent her email to him at the end of it).

Which means that he actually gets two “one-on-one” scenes with her in episodes 30 and 33, which is actually pretty surprising when you consider how this entire thing was during an arc when he was still pretty stilted and awkward when dealing with the other kids directly. 33 is interesting because it actually would mean very little by itself if it weren’t for the context this scene is in -- three episodes prior, Miyako slapped Ken in the face, and one episode after that, Ken saw Miyako at her absolute hysterical worst, throwing a panicked fit, infringing on insensitivity in all directions, and generally being a mess...but not only does he seem to be absent a grudge about any of this, he’s still more than willing to be her partner’s caretaker and dash all the way to Kyoto in an “I trust you with this” manner.

Basically? Despite everything, he actually trusts and respects her abilities quite a lot.

So why does Miyako get to be a complete mess and all over the place, and yet still seem to command this much respect among the 02 crowd? The answer is, quite simply, that they like her a lot.

Let’s look at what Miyako calls her friends.

Daisuke: Daisuke

Iori: Iori

Takeru: Takeru-kun

Hikari: Hikari-chan

Ken: Ichijouji-kun (until episode 30), Ken-kun (episode 25 and after).

Interesting web of relationships here. Miyako presumably omits the honorific with Iori because she’s known him closely as her neighbor since prior to the series. In a similar vein to how she doesn’t want Daisuke to use an honorific on her, she omits it on him -- the two really are very close, even if they don’t give off that aura at first. She’s respectful with Takeru, and endearing with Hikari, and, notably, she is the first person in the entire group to switch to given name basis with Ken (Daisuke doesn’t do this until episode 30, and not regularly until 39), indicating that she very, very much wanted to go out of her way to reach out to and get closer to him.

Unlike Jou, who sometimes tried to use his position as the oldest as proof that he should be commanding that kind of respect, Miyako doesn’t really have any conscious awareness that she’s the oldest (the only time she consciously pulls it out is episode 8, when she’s talking about Ken being younger than her, and it’s otherwise implied by the way she acts in episode 7 that she actually forgets about this regularly), because she’s too busy doting on everyone. Miyako is extremely affectionate, and one of her first actions in the entire series was to bring food for everyone, even though she’d just met them all. For all intents and purposes, she actually basically is the mom of the group (it’s just...she’s more of a disaster than you’d usually expect the archetype to be). And on top of that, she’s bright, and cheerful, and brings everyone’s spirits up -- that same overly dramatic, all-over-the-place nature that causes her to sometimes lose control is the same exuberance that leads her to go “Digital Gate, open! Chosen Children, let’s roll!”

Her ridiculous antics make people laugh. This happens twice at prominent plot points (Hikari in episode 31, and Ken in episode 38), and, heck, even her depiction in the epilogue is another moment of her causing her family to laugh. Miyako always has her heart in the right place; she cares about her friends deeply, and makes this very clear.

And Ken certainly must have come to recognize this himself by the end of the series, considering...

“Please don’t worry about me” -- or, in other words, what you say when you know someone is going out of their way to be emotionally invested in your welfare. Ken, still soft-spoken, polite, and respectful, by this point was well aware that Miyako was a fundamentally good person looking out for him -- so, in other words, he’d also hopped on the Inoue Miyako respect train.

And as I’ve pointed out many times, the 02 group was a little different from their seniors in that they were “social-life” friends -- people who enjoyed each other’s company even when it had nothing to do with Digimon incidents -- and so it meant that, in the end, they all really did have a lot of fondness for Miyako as a friend, and it really is that much easier to “forgive” your friend’s faults when you care about your friend that much. You have a friend who dotes on you and cares about you, and although she’s a little high-strung and off her rocker at times, she’s also bright and funny, so in the end, can you really fault her?

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #miyako inoue #inoue miyako #shihameta

145 notes · View notes

anthrotographer · 5 years ago

Text

Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962)

Directed by: Agnès Varda

Daises (1966)

Directed by: Věra Chytilová

Sorry for the long scroll. This is an essay I did for a class about a year ago. It was on two women directed foreign films Cleo from 5 to 7 and Daises. In the paper I get into a lot of the similarities between the films and what they do well, but I don’t get to really give my opinion on them. Both the Czech Daises and French Cleo are wonderfully unique. Daises was chaotic, fun, and plotless. I really had to work to eek out some meaning from that one. Cleo from 5 to 7 caught me by surprise of how much I loved it. It’s one of the best films I’ve ever watched. I don’t always judge films objectively like I ought to. Usually if there is an extremely stuck up, narcissistic lead character in a movie it turns me off. I’m not really interested in seeing personality types like that. Cleo from 5 to 7 breaks through for me though. The evolution of Cleo’s character is based so much on real experiences that I find it to be such a truthful story, with layers of weighty symbolism.

———————————————————————

The Timid Cleo and the Bold Daises

Through the Nineteen-sixties feminist movements could be seen sprouting all across the globe. The art, music, and filmmaking alike from these periods captured and spread these feminist ideals. Agnes Varda in France and Vera Chytilová in Czechoslovakia were women film directors who made films with women’s issues in mind. Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7 is a slow, plot driven drama that follows, as David Cook puts it, “the life of a young pop singer who is waiting for a lab report that will tell her whether she has cancer” (Cook 370). Vera Chytilová ’s Daises appears to be a plot-less comedy headed by an anarchic female duo. Both films were made in patriarchal societies and appear to take place in them. The two films explore how their women protagonists deal with being seen as objects of beauty in these male dominated worlds. Cleo struggles with finding her self-worth outside of her superficiality and feels like maintaining her beauty is tied to that self-worth. Marie I and Marie II in Daises inversely have no questions about their self-worth and use their objectivity to their advantage. The Maries thus have less evolving to do in comparison to Cleo who’s journey it is to detach her pride from her beauty.

Cleo wallows in fear as she awaits the results of her biopsy. Everyone she would consider “close” to her, like her assistant, her boyfriend, and her pianist seem uninterested in her troubles or are unwilling to give her a comforting ear. That is until Cleo meets up with her old friend from art school, Dorothee. After a stressful day Cleo heads to the sculpting studio where Dorothee works as a nude model. As Cleo walks into the studio the camera appears to give us a first person shot from Cleo’s perspective. It’s a slow, apprehensive moving shot into the room where the sculpting is happening, giving us the feeling that Cleo is uncomfortable with what’s happening. Then we see Dorothee posing naked still in the middle of the class and she meets eyes with Cleo. She does not appear embarrassed in the slightest, on the contrary she is excited to see her friend. Cleo waits for Dorothee to finish her shift and get changed so they can walk out together. We learn as they talk that Cleo was in fact uncomfortable in the studio as she tells Dorothee that she would be “afraid people would find a fault” if that was her. Dorothee responds with one of the most profound quotes of the film and one that seems to stick with Cleo. Dorothee says “my body makes me happy, not proud” meaning that she can be happy about the way she looks without having her self-esteem or pride being affected by it. Through the first half of the film Cleo had been overtly concerned about her disease possibly affecting her appearance. This is exemplified by her constantly checking in mirrors to see if she is still pretty. It appears that to Cleo her beauty and fame are all she is good for. She sees herself through the patriarchal lens. For example, Cleo’s never present boyfriend shows up to her apartment for a quick chat in which he avoids the topic of her sickness and extols upon her beauty for five minutes until he leaves. Also, a few minutes later Bob, her pianist shows up and jokes about how he’s attracted to her because of her money. The possibility of a cancer diagnosis forces Cleo to start thinking the way Dorothee thinks. Allison Smith writes about Cleo’s cancer that “Her knowledge of its existence therefore obliges her to see herself differently, to take account of her own awareness” (Smith 97). This focus on the world outside of herself helps her find someone who actually cares about her and not just her good looks. That person is the soldier Antoine. Even though he finds her beautiful that is not the only aspect of Cleo that he is invested in. He cares about her health; the only other character in the film besides her longtime friend Dorothee that truly worries about her diagnosis. Cleo ultimately finds solace in the fact that she has made a real, non-superficial relationship with another human being. The protagonists in Daises also are involved in superficial relations, yet they do not perceive them as negative the way Cleo does.

The two young woman named Marie who headline the film Daises have no qualms about being objectified. Like Cleo, everywhere they go, they capture the gaze of men. The Maries are comfortable within themselves enough to use their beauty as a tool for their own benefit. From the outset of the film the girls exclaim that they intend to spoil themselves, so using men for free dinners and then dropping them like used napkins afterwards naturally follows. One such occurrence happens in a scene where the red headed Marie is over at the apartment of some butterfly collecting pianist. The man creepily exclaims his love to her through a poem while Marie poses nude for him. He calls her Julie, giving us the impression that Marie gave him a false name, just like the Maries do with all the men they meet. Handing out false names shows the lack of commitment and respect they have for the men they toy with. Once Marie starts to put her bra back on, the pianist gets angry and says, “I wish you’d never come into my life!” Marie knows exactly how to play him though and the next thing he sees is Marie holding two framed butterflies over her exposed chest. The man completely reverts back to exclaiming his love for “Julie”. Marie uses this opportunity to ask for the one thing that the Maries always want, food. Women overeating is just one of the patriarchal taboos that Daises flips on its head.

The characters of this film go against the traditional patriarchal ideals of what women should be. Women are used to having their beauty be used against them and for the pleasure of men, but in Vera Chytilová ’s film the Maries use their beauty against men and for the pleasure of themselves. Traditionally women also have been forced into the submissive role in society, where they have to keep themselves composed and presentable constantly. To the Maries that is not even a thought that crosses their minds. They do not adhere to being the submissive ones, in fact they control the dialogue and direction of every interaction with men in the film. Laurel Harris seems to agree with me when he writes “…the Maries’ hysterical excess is a calculated response to inadequate roles in their society for individuals of their age and gender” (Harris 4). The duo also does not worry about seeming composed or mannerly when scoffing down pastries and appetizers in crowded restaurants. In antiquated gender roles women are made to watch how much they eat so they can maintain their figure, but at dinner with one of their suckers, one Marie asks the man “Are you on a diet?” I agree with Peter Hames assessment of Daises’ conception when he writes “Since women have been excluded from productive behavior, they have turned to art and play” (Hames 87). Hames is saying that Vera Chytilová ’s film is a reaction to woman being controlled for far too long. Whether Chytilová set out to make a feminist film or not the end result for Daises is a film that does not judge its non-conformist female characters.

Cleo from 5 to 7 is more explicitly set in a male run society. Agnes Varda created a character in Cleo that starts off fully invested in that societal structure. Her happiness is tied up into her superficial being, but because of the cancer she is forced to take account of what truly is meaningful in her life. She starts to crave caring relationships with people who recognize her for more than just being a pretty pop star. Cleo finds the power within herself to break out of the caged existence of women in a male dominated society. Cleo at one point in the film rips off her wig and gives away her fashionable hat; two symbols of conventional female beauty. Cleo from 5 to 7 and Daises both represent women’s lives in these feministic ways.

The two women filmmakers Agnes Varda and Vera Chytilová end up making similar films in that they have themes of women empowerment. Yet, the way in which its illustrated in each film is drastically different. Chytilová’s Daises wastes no time in showing the viewer that women can be unapologetic anarchists. There is no preconception of womanhood that the Maries have to fight to overcome. They just are empowered women. Cleo from 5 to 7 shows the evolution that a particular woman has to make to escape from seeing herself as just an object. These films helped inspire a generation of women in not conforming to typical patriarchal standards.

Works Cited

Cook, David A. “Chapter 13.” A History of Narrative Film. W.W. Norton, 2016.

Hames, Peter. “The Golden Sixties: The Czechoslovak New Wave revisited.” Studies in

Eastern European Cinema, 2013.

Harris, Laurel. “Czech New Wave Cinema: The Children of Marx and Kafka.” PopMatters, PopMatters, 30 Mar. 2002.

Smith, Alison. “Agnes Varda.” Manchester and New York, Manchester University Press, 1998.

123 notes · View notes

lordsavemepleaseineedhelp · 4 years ago

Text

Sept 25th 2016 faced with kings

by technoblade

I’d just like to start out by saying that there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation behind all of this.

----So there I was, minding my own business, strolling down one of Erindale’s many packed streets towards the city walls. Nothing unusual. There was one critical detail I was unaware of, however- there was a very determined man on a horse charging up the street behind me. I became aware of this when his horse slammed into my back, knocking me down. Unfortunately my brief trip to the ground encountered an obstacle- a man carrying a delicate redstone instrument next to me. While both of us survived, his instrument didn’t.

----But that’s life. Granted, I was upset, but the man and his horse were already out of reach. I started to get back up when I heard a yell behind me. I turned, and it was the dude who’s instrument my fall had destroyed. He wasn’t happy. Well, perhaps more accurately, he was pissed.

“Hey!” he shouted, smashing his fist into my face.

----At the time, I was wearing a very nice helmet, which had been forged from quality iron by a reputable armorsmith in the town. I was very particular about my helmets; getting shot in the back of the head wasn’t one of my hobbies. But I liked being able to, well, breathe comfortably, so I never got a visor for it; the front of my face was exposed.

What I’m trying to say is, that punch hurt.

----I recovered gracefully, though, picking myself off the ground for the second time in less than a minute. He swung again, but this time I was ready- I dodged to the side and connected my elbow to the side of his chin with a satisfying crunch. He collapsed, and I heard a shout behind me.

“Stop!”

Oh boy.

----I turned, and a warden was running towards me. A bit of explanation: the city of Erindale, just like the rest of the world, is ruled by four kings. These kings are operators, which is to say, they don’t just rule the world; they control it. They have powers. It’d be more accurate to call them gods, but they call themselves kings, and nobody questions it. Despite their powers, they can’t see everything, so they maintain a force of thousands of peacekeepers to, well, keep the peace. Maintain order and all that. They’re called the staff, and they have a hierarchy. Among them there are wardens, then lieutenants, and finally generals; but they’re just pawns for the kings.

As a general rule, they’re all awful.

The crowd cleared, eager to see what was going on, and the warden ran up to me.

“Cities are non-combat zones, Ignazio. Surely a level 37 should know this."

“Hold on.” I responded. “He hit me first!”

----The man struggled to get up, but didn’t quite manage. I’d hit him hard. He still managed to protest from the ground, though.

“He broke my- my- my redstone!”

----The warden looked over, eyeing the crushed remains of whatever redstone contraption he had built. I hurried to explain myself.

"Now, hold on, I got pushed into him by some guy-”

“Yes, yes,” he cut me off. “Very likely. I see you already have two warnings for disruptive behavior.”

He’d already accessed the staff database. Which meant I wasn’t getting out of this easily.

“Now, hold on-” I began, but he wasn’t having it.

“This is your third infraction.” He glanced at my belt. “Give me your sword.”

“What?” I responded. I rather liked my sword- it was relatively new, and made of pure diamond. Diamonds weren’t easy to come by- even the generals, the highest ranking staff members, usually only had a few pieces. I’d had to work for quite a while to put together the funds to purchase this one.

“Your sword.” he repeated. “Give it to me.”

“This isn’t in the rules.”

“Are you questioning my decision?”

Great.

“No” I responded, taking my sword out. I gave it one last forlorn look before handing it to him.

----“Good. If you have any further questions about the rules, feel free to message me- I’m willing to help at any time.” He ran off. Douchebag. Abuses like these weren’t exactly rare among the staff. They made sure to never go too far- they needed us regular denizens of the world to produce their food- but they still did this fairly often. The only real threat they need to worry about is a global uprising against them, but that’s never going to happen. People know of the kings’ operator powers, and they aren’t eager to test them.

----Well, looks like I’d need a new sword. Thankfully I was already in Erindale- there was a fairly good prestige shop nearby, one accessible only to level 35s and higher. I was level 37- the result of months of work fighting others and gathering resources out in the wilderness. Most people at my level were in large guilds with massive castles and resources built up to help them level up easily, but I’d never been fond of the guild system. Guilds tended to be a little too proud; they seemed to be increasingly obsessed over maintaining the identity and prestige their names carried, and often fought other guilds just to keep their renown. Sure, these guilds were incredibly powerful- the world was dominated by them, mostly because the kings let them exist. But what good is power if you never use it for anything meaningful?

----I didn’t have nearly enough gold to buy a new diamond sword, but an iron one would do for now. I opened the doors to the shop and walked in. The place wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t especially packed either- while the place was popular, most weren’t leveled highly enough to enter. Most people in here were about as equipped as me- full iron armor- but a few had diamond armor pieces, and even fewer had enchantments. Enchantment tables were hard to come by- only a few existed in the world, and they were hoarded by the strongest guilds. One person stuck out, though- a young boy, perhaps 12 years old, wearing only leather. Two men in full iron had cornered him, and they didn’t seem friendly. I walked over.

----“Is there a problem?” I asked them. They ignored me. They must not have heard me. I grabbed the shoulder of the shorter one and pulled him aside. They noticed.

"Is there a problem?” I repeated.

The men glanced around. I quickly became aware that no staff members were present.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the larger one said.

“Actually, it does concern me. I’m going to need you to leave this boy alone.”

----The men exchanged a look. They weren’t impressed. They both reached for their swords, and I reached for mine. Then I remembered I didn’t have a sword. Whoops. They noticed this detail as well, and grinned. The large one partially unsheathed his sword, revealing enough iron to let me know that they weren’t bluffing.

----“You’ll have to shove your concern up your-” he began, stopping suddenly, and I heard the shop doors close behind me. I spun around. A lieutenant had just walked in- I’d never been so happy to see a staff member. I looked back at the men- they glared at me for a few seconds before letting go of their swords and walking off, grumbling. They knew better than to try anything with a staff member nearby. I looked at the boy, who was standing there quietly, clutching something in his hands.

----“What were those guys doing?” I asked.

----“They wanted my- they wanted- they wanted my helmet” he stammered. He raised the object he was clutching, and I glanced at it- then did a double-take as I realized it was enchanted diamond. But I didn’t get a chance to ask how he’d gotten it.

“Why did you help me?” he asked. “You didn’t have a sword. They would have killed you.”

I paused. I didn’t feel like admitting that I had forgotten about my lack of weaponry.

“I’m not a big fan of people abusing their power,” I answered.

“My brother was like that,” he responded. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t especially interested in learning about his brother, so I cut him off.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m- I’m Almon,” he said, after a pause.

“Look- I’ve got to go now. Add me as a friend- if they come back, just message me.”

----He nodded, and sent me a friend request. The friendship system was fairly useful- friends could message each other, see their statuses, and trace their location. I didn’t have many people on mine- I didn’t trust many people enough to let them know my whereabouts- but most people weren’t worth being friends with anyways. I accepted his request, and went off to the shop counter. I heard a familiar voice shout my name.

“Ignazio!”

----I turned, and saw Marrok approaching me. Marrok is one of the few people actually on my friends list- well, to tell you the truth, he’s the only one. In my defense though, Marrok is worth more than a hundred friends put together. I’d met him in the wilderness about a month ago when he was still relatively low level, and we quickly bonded. I taught him all the tricks I had, and he learned quickly- a bit too quickly. Eventually he’d gone off and joined a guild, the Knights of Oren, and he’d even passed me in level recently, much to my annoyance.

“Did you hear the news?” he asked.

“What?”

“Cael’s gone.”

----Now this was news. Cael was one of the four kings that ran the world, and while I didn’t know much about him, he was the only one I’d actually liked. From what I’ve heard, he had made numerous attempts to reform the staff to be less, well, abusive. He’d had limited success, but I respected him for trying.

----“Cael’s gone?” I repeated, stunned. “Why?”

----“Nobody’s sure. But his name disappeared off the staff list, and they haven’t made an announcement yet. A rumor’s going around that those that had him on their friends list see him marked as dead."

----“But he’s an operator. He can’t die.”

----We were interrupted by the deafening sound of drums. Everyone in the shop stopped what they were doing. We all knew what was happening. The kings, being operators, had the power to send a message across the world, booming it across the skies. This was known as an announcement, and they were pretty rare- I’d never experienced one before, though I’d heard about them. The drums stopped, and a deep voice seemed to emanate from the roof.

----“For the past decade, four kings have ruled over the realm. They have ruled with justice and honor. It is with regret that we inform you that Cael has resigned his role as king. We thank him for his service, and wish him well in his future endeavours.”

The voice faded. The shop was quiet.

“Well, that didn’t explain anything,” Marrok said, breaking the silence.

“It’s quite strange. Why would he resign?”

"Perhaps they’re lying.”

The lieutenant glanced at us. I decided that I’d talked with the staff enough for one day.

“Anyhow, Marrok, good seeing you- but I’ve got to go.” I said, hurriedly, and exited the shop.

6 notes · View notes

lifewellnest · 4 years ago

Text

How To Be Assertive Without Being Obnoxious

Have you ever found yourself in a position where you couldn’t do anything? Or do you find yourself agreeing to something, even though it goes against your beliefs? To solve such circumstances it is important to understand that value of assertiveness.

So What Exactly is Assertiveness?

Assertiveness is the ability to effectively communicate and negotiate. It entails speaking up for yourself and what you believe in. It includes asking for what you want in a relaxed, positive, and courteous manner.

Let’s see how assertiveness can be a valuable life skill. Here are some tips about how you can become more assertive.

#1 Switch to the language of Assertiveness Pay close attention to the way you construct your sentences. A variety of simple communication strategies are available to you. Starting with “I” statements is a good place to start. To express points and take a strong stand, use phrases like “I want,” “I need,” or “I feel”. It’s important not to leave any space for misinterpretation. Use those “I” statements to express how you feel to the other person. Maintain a simple and straightforward approach.

Your own body language can actually project confidence. Stand straight, steady, and directly facing the people you’re addressing. Maintain proper bearing and allows eye contact to show your strength and confidence.

#2 Assertiveness is NOT Aggressiveness People react differently, they can respond negatively which is truly uncomfortable. Make sure you’re not holding yourself responsible for how others respond to your assertiveness. You’re more likely to respond aggressively rather than assertively when you’re angry or defensive. You become more competent and capable of effectively dealing with any challenge or obstacle when you remove any rage, fear, tension, or other powerful negative emotion.

It is always important to remain on track and in touch with the situation. This behavior will help you deal better with the situation, easily manage the same and make you more in control.

#3 Develop Empathy Always make an effort to consider and appreciate how the other person sees the situation. After considering the other person’s point of view then you can address the issue or the situation. It is very important to maintain eye contact, being engaged while discussing with the other person about how you are invested in the issue. The effect of your messages is enhanced when combined with effective gestures, a well-modulated speech, and good timing.

#4 Respect Yourself and Your Rights To become more assertive, you must first develop self-awareness. This includes confidence in your worth and the importance you bring to this world and to this life. This self-belief serves as the foundation of assertive behaviour, for it will make you understand the treatment you deserve. It will give you the courage to stand up for your rights and boundaries. And at the same time, staying true to yourself, your wants, and your needs.

#5 Be Open-Minded When expressing yourself assertively, it is completely normal to receive both positive and negative feedback. If you don’t agree with the criticism you’ve received, you must be willing to express your dissatisfaction without being defensive or angry. You don’t have to express your insights in a negative or aggressive manner as it shows defensiveness. Instead learn to respect the viewpoint of others as it is their right as well. However you disagree with them, it is always better to deliver your disagreement or dissatisfaction in a well-mannered way. This is where the importance of discussion comes into action.

The Key Points!

Finding the right balance between passivity and aggression is assertiveness. It is definitely a beneficial life skill. Assertive communication means saying what you want to happen while not hurting the other person’s feelings. It promotes a situation where you and the other party are both okay!

Assertiveness is about valuing yourself and your needs, but don’t overlook the importance of other choices. Because being assertive doesn’t mean acting in your own interest without considering other people’s feelings and opinions. Remember that assertive people are pros at finding “win-win” solutions to problems.

Assertiveness will make you a successful manager and leader! Always remember just like any other skill, learning to be assertive requires time and practice. So what are you waiting for? Stand up and assert!

#lifewellnest #assertiveness #lifeskills #leadership #tuesdaymotivation #communication #freedom #expressyourself

2 notes · View notes

inkblotsandeggshells · 4 years ago

Text

My take on feminine enbodyment and female empowerment

This concept of modern feminism and pushing men out of the picture affects me differently than the average woman, because I was raised without a dad. When my mom adopted me and my other siblings, she never got married and instead asked her best female friend to step in and help raise all four of us. I was very loved, but I felt that absence of a father all my life. It affected nearly every part of my childhood and teenage years, and it continues to affect my adult life. I wanted to get a boyfriend and eventually get married, but the only constant guy in my life was my older brother. Therefore, I had very few examples of what respectful, good, masculine men looked like.

When I was a sophomore in college, my roommate at the time showed me a YouTube channel called Blimey Cow, and they had made a video called “Ten Ways to get the Right Guy to like You.” I hadn’t thought about this video or this channel in a few years, because they primarily make Christian content. I’m not a Christian anymore, nor do I agree with all the beliefs of Christianity. However, I decided to go back to this video two days ago, because I remembered how these creators directly challenged how our culture defines female empowerment. Specifically they used this video to present that challenge, with an emphasis on noting the difference between female liberation and female objectification. Some of the suggestions they made to help girls find the right guys included showing interest in their hobbies, supporting their local chivalry, letting the guys in their lives know they appreciate them, putting less emphasis on how much skin they show and more emphasis on who they are as a person. As a 20 year old college kid, these young content creators made a bigger impact on my views on men, women and the hyper-sexual movement than I would have thought. As a result, their video gave me the nudge to dive deeper into this topic through writing.

When you first learn of the term “female empowerment”, it sounds attractive enough: women being seen as a force to be reckoned with, authoritative, strong leaders who are goddesses in nearly every way. Rather than being stuck at home to take care of the kids, women are encouraged to pursue their career dreams, step into more masculine leadership roles and “be the boss”, for lack of a better term. It all sounds appealing until you start to dig deeper into what’s behind the phrase “female empowerment.” One big part of how I discovered this occurred last summer.

In July of 2020, I chose to invest a serious amount of money to an online holistic sex course. It was called Well-F*cked Woman, created by a woman named Kim Anami. Through using the tools learned through this six week course, Kim claims to have helped thousands of people all over the world, especially women, to connect with the untapped power of their sexual energy. She believes that a big reason why people are as stressed, unhealthy and unhappy as they are is because they’re not having the right kind of sex. Moreover, they’re not having the right kind of sex often enough. Whether you’re in a couple or single makes no difference. If you want to gain body confidence, get orgasms or even heal ancestral trauma, Kim claims this course would teach you how to obtain all those things by utilizing your sexual energy.

When I read the information on it, I became very intrigued. After several days of listening to her podcasts and reading her blogs, I became more convinced that this course could be a big help for my personal well-being. At the time, my goal was to use the course to heal some of the imbalanced sacral energy I still had. Hopefully, it could even heal some ancestral wounds I carried in my DNA. If I achieved that, finding a romantic partner would be more of a bonus than a direct goal. So when I received the stimulus check from the government, I used that money to pay for the course and one of Kim’s jade yoni eggs.

For each of the six weeks, we would get a video with a written syllabus to discuss different topics, most of which revolved around sex. One week we would focus on self-love practices, one week we would talk about the relationship between sex and money, another week we learned about food, etc. In that first week, I began the exercises easily enough. However, I also started to feel very conflicted about the information we received in this course. For example, in the syllabus about self-love, one of the first statements Kim made about women is that “most have rape fantasies.” Admittedly, I didn’t really understand what that meant or what it was, until a friend told me. Once I did understand it, it bothered me deeply, to say the least. As someone who claimed that her work helped heal women’s sexual trauma, to hear Kim make such a statement right off the bat made me feel uneasy.

In a separate journal, I had written down my progress of the course and some of the conclusions I had made about what it taught and about the woman who taught it. In one entry, I had observed that it seemed to take a lot of money to become a “well-f*cked woman”, by Kim’s standards. If needed, it could possibly add up to hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. For instance, if you wanted to use a jade egg as a sexual healing tool, that cost $300. The six week course itself cost almost $1000. Kim also recommended using therapy injections to change your neural pathways, if you were a victim of sexual trauma. Just getting one injection is expensive enough, but if you “need” more than one injection or appointment, that will add up fast. Sadly, such treatments are not easily accessible to everyone who wants sexual healing. It certainly wasn’t for me.

Additionally, a recurring message that came up in the course was that it’s important for couples to have sex more than once a week. In this case, it wasn’t talking about the faster paced sex described as being numb and fleeting. On the contrary, Kim wanted us to aim for the slower, orgasmic, breath focused sex where you’re working to maintain and build up a flow of sexual energy. While in some ways, this course educated people on sex differently than our modern culture, some aspects seem pretty similar to me. For example, one night stands are still seen as acceptable situations to practice generating this energy. We were encouraged to practice sex acts two to three times a week, to the point of becoming sex addicts. Also, even though Kim frowned upon pornography, we were still taught to utilize BDSM as a way to create polarity in our relationships. This was to make sure that “spark of passion” was maintained for the long term. Lastly, Kim would sometimes demonstrate problematic double standards when it came to showing examples of how to respect your partner. In one of her stories about “helping” her partner become confident with himself, she talked about making a point to touch his private parts in public, whether he was okay with it or not. If not, she claimed “it was his problem.” In my opinion, if they’re genders had been switched, she would have been called out for her disrespectful behavior immediately among the group.

In this class, Kim discouraged us from using substances like alcohol and drugs during the practice, because of how they damage the body. On the other hand, she promoted addictions to sex as something positive, as something to attain for as a human being. Whether you are in a couple doing the act or you’re a single adult who’s just masturbating, you were encouraged to have some kind of sex several times a week. According to Kim, it needed to get to the point where you felt you couldn’t go about your day without generating this energy. “What an addiction does is that it causes you to stop thinking,” says Michael Knowles, who was a guest on the Candace Owens Show discussing modern feminism. “It enslaves you. It makes you prone to certain behavior, and when you’re not thinking, that’s when the people who want to grab power can come in and force it on you.” Too much of anything can be detrimental for your well-being, on all levels. During a time where protection of boundaries for my spiritual life had become very important, this way of thinking pushed me to discover what kind of boundaries I had and to stick to them. In this case, it lead me to the conclusion that if being like Kim meant being addicted to sex, disrespecting the men I care about, and using methods of sexual control for the sake of “polarity”, then I would rather not be like her at all.

With all that being said, I believe the big question is this: how exactly does the WAP culture of free sex and female empowerment differ from the holistic sex culture I learned about in the summer of 2020? How does our pop culture differ from the Well-F*cked Woman course, in how we’re being educated about sex? In my opinion, one culture pushes the more superficial, fleeting benefits of sex in our faces, while the other pushes for using sex and sexual energy as a way to harness untapped power. This power can, supposedly, be used to energize us, heal our bodies, and manifest things into our lives. Regardless, both cultures seem to be more concerned with using sex to gain power than using it as a means to express true love. Both cultures seem to encourage women to “embrace their femininity” by leaving their underwear off more often. Both cultures seem to promote double standards on how partners should respect each other and their boundaries. Both cultures still push us to become addicted to sex in order to have a fulfilled, happier life, because according to them, every aspect of our lives will disintegrate without it.

As a result of the lockdown, last year turned out to be most isolating time for us, and it was intense enough to put many people into a deep state of depression. At a time when everyone is stuck online and forced to keep further apart, this is when people in the online sex business—holistic or otherwise—will benefit the most from that loneliness. They can use it to make those profits and fill their own pockets. This becomes more obvious when you observe their marketing tactics, including the ones I noticed for Kim Anami’s website: unless you give me your money and do what I tell you to do, you will never be “well-f*cked.” Everything in your life will deteriorate unless you become “well-f*cked.” You will be a brainwashed zombie forever, easily manipulated, unless you become “well-f*cked.”As my friend Lee Yun would say, “These tactics are designed to create an empty void in people that can’t be filled.” In the cases of some individuals, even if they were to try, it would cost them more time, money and energy than they were lead to believe.

For those of you who wonder if I still keep up with the practices I learned from this course, I haven’t. At least, I haven’t kept up to the degree that would be necessary. My jade egg is sitting on my altar collecting dust, even as I write this. Because of the amount of money I spent to buy the egg, this is not something I’m proud to admit. A jade egg is a sacred, special tool that deserves to be put to use for the highest good, and eventually, I will find a teacher that can help me do so. I just don’t want to have to conform to this holistic “WAP” standard to get there.

Surprisingly, by reflecting on my past through watching Blimey Cow’s videos, I realized there are still some values about sex, intimacy and femininity that I learned as a teenage Christian that matter to me now as an adult witch. In my opinion, sex is something very sacred that should not be taken so lightly, because of how it connects you to your partner in an intense, physical and spiritual way. For me, I take it seriously enough to still choose to wait until I get a husband and to choose not to masturbate. Additionally, when I do have sex with my lifelong partner, it will be as much about him as it will be about me. This means respecting and honoring him as a man as well as I know how. In my opinion, if you encourage people to use something like sex to attain higher spiritual goals, but neglect to show basic respect to your partner’s boundaries about his body, then in the words of Jordan Taylor from Blimey Cow, “you’re doing it wrong.”

Michael Knowles interview with Candace Owens on the Candace Owens Show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejWIEMs8ecg

Blimey Cow’s YouTube video, “Ten Ways to Get the Right Guy to Like You”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqF_PtugyBk

#blimeycow femaleempowerment feminineembodiment jordantaylor candaceowensshow michaelknowles #the daily wire #holisticsex #menmatter

2 notes · View notes

crimsonfluidessence · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt 2: Sway

It was a strange feeling, being able to shift one’s skin like Esredes could. One moment it was soft, and the next, the texture of leather. One moment, he could have a tail, or horns, or wings- and in the next have no sensations of them at all. But his affliction was not the only way Esredes shapeshifted, even if he wasn’t aware of it. He had learned the process in a different way, ever since he was eight years old. The world was interesting as an eight year old- so small, so centered, so simple. All he knew was his home, his parents, and some fellow highborn children. His brother hadn’t even been born yet. He knew a few things- he liked his mother’s cooking, he liked the board games he played for fun, and he felt warm and safe in the blanket of affection provided to him. But Esredes was of course, not created as a creature of simple harmony. There were natural disruptions bound to manifest in the child, and it came in the form of that fateful day he had blown up at another kid for insulting him and thrown a punch. Oh, he had never seen his parents that furious at him. It was a new level of sensation for him, and he didn’t like it. But there was no cutting off what was an inevitability- the feeling came again and again, and with it, something began to change in that blanket. His parents no longer looked and spoke to him in quite the same way, and while his mind could not fully comprehend the change, it felt it, and it did not like it. That child had learned the necessity of shapeshifting, but not how to do it. Not yet. That would be taught to him by two different individuals later, as they both stared him down inside his room as a teenager. “You’ve been out of control for too long,” one said. “And I know you think that we’ll give up like your parents did, but we have a different method. We are here to teach you proper responsibility, and you’re going to learn it the easy or hard way.” Ah yes, responsibility. That entity that had entered his spirit once it had been fully broken down from all those years of resistance, and merged itself with his very soul. It opened the child’s eyes, suddenly, begrudingly, things made more sense to him. For he was not created without a way to manage his own disruption of harmony. And finally, even though he had been testing out his affliction in secret for years now, he learned to truly shapeshift. It was a beautiful thing. When you took on another form, people reacted to you so much differently. His parents were no longer mad at him all the time, peers slowly came back to him after having shut him out. Even though part of his mind quietly protested to his new form, he never wanted to change back. This was… manageable. Everything would be fine if he just stayed like this. But one form was not enough, and Esredes did not learn this until he joined the Temple Knights proper. There was no form that he could take that would prevent enemies on the battlefield from targeting him, but there was one to learn for his behavior otherwise. A knight must be good and true, disciplined, unhesitant. He must conduct himself with honor, and be there for those who cannot be there for themselves… It was such a perfect form to maintain once he perfected it. Others looked up to and respected him, considered him a shining example. Oh, if only it hadn’t been forcefully destroyed. Without it, Esredes had no reliable backup. There was nothing to do but to refuse to take much of any form, to stare at the floor inside his tent and avoid any sort of social contact with the heretics outside. He couldn’t hide from them. They knew exactly who he was. And yet, he ended up changing again anyhow. This time it was not just peoples’ reactions to him at stake, it was his very life. If he exposed too much of his true self, so ugly and unpleasant, surely they would slay the beast. Esredes could not take the form like that of a gentle animal, cute and harmless, something that would easily ward off any thoughts of finishing the job, so he settled for the next best thing: withdrawn and obedient. It was imperfect, something transparent, something they could see right through, and yet it did the job. He was too quiet for anyone to talk to, any of those feelings of hatred and urge to murder within them surely had to be stopped from progressing. So he remained like this for a long time, until it fell away and rotted naturally like the remains of his previous self over the months of adjustment. And that blackened heart infused itself with a new and rising form of hatred. He took the mantle of that which he formerly hated when it finally harmonized with that which was rotting away, and went on to maintain it, except at night when he could not sleep. When a new opportunity for a heretic presented itself, he used it to his advantage. Tell me all about the hatred in your heart, young one. They’ve wronged me too, they’ve wronged all of us. Come with me, and I will train you into the warrior to bring about its destruction. And Esredes would earn their trust through that mutual understanding of suffering and hatred, he would go on to joke about Ishgardians in morbid manners, as if to forget for a moment the rest. That blackened heart came over the mood, unable to stop itself from festering and pulsating out into the mind. But not all who crossed his path were of that temperament. There were the recruitees who still held love for Ishgard. Believe me, I understand. It used to be my home too, and try as I may, I can never forget that. Don’t worry, we’re not as they claim. We’re here to end the fighting, end the suffering. We’re here to save Ishgard from itself, because we must be better than them and exercise restraint. It’s okay to believe in her, it’s okay to feel for your home. After all, he laid awake at night sometimes over that ability to feel. Then the next day he descended down to that door in the cavern, taking a dagger and laying eyes upon the next Inquisitor to come into his grasp. And when it was over, he came right back out to talk to one of his fellow harriers who still cared for Ishgard to open up about how much it hurt to be branded a traitor. Each day, in and out, he took mental note of who responded to which form the best, and he shifted between them with ease. So many people relied on him for proper presentation, and if he were to let something slip, the consequences were inconvenient at best and devastating at worse. The end of the war brought with it several new forms. Every day Esredes left his little home and walked out into the streets of Ishgard, which watched his every move with eyes waiting to destroy him, as if nothing was wrong, as if he was allowed to be there. Each day, he talked to his fellow Ishgardians, pretending he was just like them, that he ever could just be like them. He was but another ordinary man on the street, a friendly man who conducted himself responsibly, a harmless and casual presence in a tavern. He was the composed and serious assistant who held his tongue. And most of all, he was the perfect, shining, agreeable example of someone striving for the new age, someone who believed in fighting back against the deniers with public pressure, letting no more die, and wanted the same thing as everyone else. The proof that heretics should be allowed back, the example that turned all of his people into mirror copies of him in the minds of those he managed to grasp and take hold of. Every day, he had to focus, he had to appeal, for if he lost form for even a second, they would immediately turn away from the beast and run, and he would put himself ever closer to the edge. Just as long as he didn’t think about the list in his desk, it would all be fine. All must hold together until he once again entered the spaces of his own people, and go back to the morbid jokes and the violent remarks, the careful management of the shadows his group cast and their ability to hide in them, the desire to purge the wicked that was overwhelming some days. Tell me about your hatred. He repeated to the next potential recruitee to come his way in the city. Let me give you a safe space to be at home with it, to be understood, to let it out and talk all about how you want to burn this place down and send the Tribunal crumbling down into the abyss below. Whether it meant being the perfect, understanding advocate for salvation and goodness, or the man who could not let go of his own hatred who truly understood others’ darkness, he would play the part, he would take the form. All those goals to complete, all those images to keep up. All must proceed perfectly according to agenda. At the end of each day, Esredes came home and collapsed onto his bed, withdrawing into his own mind. No one was around to see him, no one would know what he saw at the end of the day. Each action, word, and version of his beliefs swirled around inside him like a chaotic storm. That dead and buried loyalist. The hatred crawling all around in his veins. The rational mind that could exhaust itself by rising above it… oh, and even that warm feeling, that nice warm feeling when his fellow Ishgardians reciprocated him that came immediately before the guilt which always accompanied it, and the unpleasant memories that ensured it would always be temporary. Esredes closed his eyes, for he could not see into the center of the storm. He did not know what laid there waiting for him, if someone were to ever strip him down to just the center. But perhaps some things were just not meant to be deciphered. Esredes knew one thing at this moment, and it was that there would be a tomorrow. And he would shift to his out and about form, and go about his day, for he had ambitions to rise to and people to persuade.

#screenshots #esrey's house #heretic uniform #sort of #writing #in action #ffxivwrite2020

16 notes · View notes

digitaldreams0801 · 5 years ago

Text

Frontiers Unexplored Elemental Analysis

I’m finally doing this! I’ve been meaning to talk about the characters and how they match up with their elements for a while, so here we go. Spoilers for the true identities of the Fallen Warriors (though this doesn’t exactly mean much since you can’t match names with faces if they haven’t shown up physically in human form). This will contain a breakdown of each character’s elemental affinity as well as a contrast with their elemental opposite.

Takuya Kanbara, Warrior of Fire Takuya is a passionate and determined person, naturally charismatic and talkative. He can easily earn the respect and attention of others thanks to how kind he is. Takuya is a born leader with a strong sense of justice, always looking on the good side and inspiring hope in others. He is also rather stubborn and reckless. Takuya can grow irritable easily at times as well, and he struggles to admit when he’s wrong from time to time, particularly when he gets defensive or feels attacked. He can inspire admiration from others while simultaneously being somewhat volatile and harsh.

Hinoka Sakatami, Warrior of Water Hinoka is a natural introvert, self-sufficient and independent. She is creative and clever as well, easily able to think of both the emotional and logical sides of a situation. She is endlessly curious too, always wanting to learn more about the world around her. On the other hand, Hinoka is prone to being overwhelmed at times, and when she gets flustered or upset, she can very easily become anxious. On top of that, she can be hard to approach due to her habit of bottling her emotions and shoving them aside. She is kind and clever but suffers from being passive.

Fire and Water Takuya and Hinoka are opposites in every respect. Takuya is a natural leader who looks on the positive side while Hinoka struggles to stand up for herself and is more of a realist. Takuya relies on the energy of others and is talkative while Hinoka values her time alone far more. Hinoka lacks Takuya’s stubborn recklessness, instead having a weakness in bottling her problems and remaining passive.

Koji Minamoto, Warrior of Light Koji is a loyal person who would do anything for those he comes to trust. He is naturally independent and understands himself well. Despite being rather pragmatic, Koji has endless grit and determination. He’s logical and critical, understanding how to act in his own best interests. However, Koji’s sense of light is hidden beneath a rocky exterior, something he hides from others. He feels that expressing such can be perceived as a negative thing, prompting to hide his optimism and act detached from others. While he is loyal and caring, he struggles to properly express such.

Koichi Kimura, Warrior of Darkness Koichi is creative and practical, able to analyze most situations with a sense of grace most others lack. He is easy to speak with despite how shy he is, and he has a natural aura of kindness that surrounds every aspect of his life. Koichi cares greatly for others and longs to see them succeed. Koichi’s darkness is internalized due to his severe self-esteem issues and habit of repressing his negative emotions. He is dependent on others and tends to fall apart when he feels that he has been abandoned. He is kind towards all others while struggling to show that care for himself.

Light and Darkness Koji and Koichi both hide their elements beneath a facade of the other. Koji comes off as a bearer of darkness between his pragmatism and detached behavior while Koichi is kind and open with others. However, their true personalities reflect their elements far better. Koji is independent and able to rely on himself while Koichi is far more dependent, a reflection of how darkness needs the light in order for proper shadows to be cast.

Tomoki Himi, Warrior of Ice Tomoki is a naturally shy person, tending to avoid others where possible. He is empathetic and willing to listen to the issues of others. He is rather competitive when given the chance to truly thrive, and he acts as a coolheaded and calm voice when he feels comfortable around others. Tomoki is prone to shutting others out when it comes to his own emotional problems, insisting that he can deal with it on his own. In his worst of moments, he grows incredibly anxious and panicky but refuses to allow anyone to truly understand him. He is sympathetic and caring but can’t allow others to treat him the same way.

Yumiko Mihara, Warrior of Wood Yumiko, much like Tomoki, is rather shy and empathetic towards others. She does all that she can for others with a smile on her face. She lacks his hidden sense of competition, instead trading it for an ease during conversations that gives her a reputation for grace and mediation. She tends to hide her emotions most of the time, only allowing others in to a certain extent before pushing them away. Yumiko also tends to blame herself rather than facing the true issue behind her significant problems. She has good intentions and a kind heart but can easily be taken advantage of.

Ice and Wood Tomoki and Yumiko are the pair of opposites with the most in common. They’re caring towards others and do what they can to help while hiding how much they’re falling apart on the inside. They also share an issue of struggling to confront their problems head on, instead deciding to avoid conflict and blame themselves. Tomoki tends to give others the cold shoulder when struggling, turning himself into an island, while Yumiko prefers to keep her problems in plain view but behind her perfectly-constructed mask.

Izumi Orimoto, Warrior of Wind Izumi is kind and open to others, reaching out and acting as a binding force among the party. She is friendly and talkative, allowing others to connect with her when they give her a chance. Izumi gives off a sympathetic aura as well and would do anything for her companions. Izumi hides her true self behind a facade of perfection. She can be dodgy when others attempt to reach out to her, tending to retreat into herself. Izumi can also be unreadable and inscrutable, leaving her intentions a mystery at times. She’s caring and kind but rarely allows others to see her true self.

Chihiro Ayumu, Warrior of Earth Chihiro is stubborn and endlessly loyal to themselves. They can be snarky and playful when they feel comfortable with others while remaining bold and firm in the face of opposition. They seem to be a grounding force in negative situations with their realistic perspective on life. However, Chihiro is short-tempered and abrasive, allowing their emotions to get the better of them at the worst of moments. They hate not feeling as if they’re in control, and they struggle to admit when they’re wrong. Chihiro is confident and determined while also having a terrible temper and a brash nature.

Wind and Earth Izumi reaches out to others while Chihiro tends to avoid doing such due to their own insecurities. Izumi struggles with being loyal to herself while Chihiro never bows to anyone. Both of them hide it when something truly bothers them, but Izumi tends to act as if nothing is wrong while Chihiro gets swallowed by their emotions until it drives them to breakdown.

Junpei Shibayama, Warrior of Thunder Junpei is loyal to himself above all else and has vowed to change himself for no other. He’s kind and casual when spoken to while staying on his own a majority of the time. He’s logical and analytical, able to break down a situation rather quickly when given the chance. On the other hand, Junpei’s self-esteem comes out of the nihilistic idea that he might as well care for himself since no other will treat him well. He gets defensive and brash when he feels attacked emotionally and is prone to fits of anger when provoked. He is confident and self-assured but can’t accept when he is truly cared for.

Saki Fushida, Warrior of Steel Saki is as intelligent as it gets, knowing how to handle themselves and looking at everything with a critical eye. They are self-reliant, business-oriented, and confident in all their actions. They are easily able to find a solution to most problems thanks to improvisation and quick thinking. However, they are incredibly manipulative and controlling, always having to be on top in a situation where others are involved. Saki’s ambitions can lead to them hurting others unintentionally, and they are averse to the aid of others. Saki knows how to live independently but can’t reach out to others no matter the situation.

Thunder and Steel Junpei and Saki both suffer from pessimistic views of the world, understanding that others won’t care for them no matter how hard they try. They don’t try to please others and act for themselves above all else. Junpei is able to draw the line between selfishness and self-sustainment where Saki struggles a bit more. They are both ambitious and defensive while maintaining a cunning and logical side.

Mayumi Reiku, Warrior of Energy Mayumi is incredibly positive and tends to go with the flow. She doesn’t let herself be bothered often, instead living with the philosophy that everything will turn out fine in the end. She is laidback and relaxed with a strong sense of justice and determination. Mayumi can also struggle to get serious in heavy situations, believing that problems can’t hurt her if she chooses not to acknowledge them. She seems somewhat unfocused and flighty at times as well. She has a good heart and an optimistic spirit but doesn’t know how to fully accept the gravity of negative times.

Haroi Tsurumaki, Warrior of Cosmos Haroi is quiet and avoids speaking with others under most circumstances. He is creative and quietly passionate behind his introversion. He cares greatly for others and loves to see others smile. He is ruled by his sense of logic rather than his emotions. He can be rather passive though, struggling to fully stand up for himself. He hates the idea of disappointing others and tends to stretch himself too thin in the name of satisfying those around him. Haroi is caring and compassionate but tends to allow himself to be carried away by such.

Energy and Cosmos Mayumi is the chaos while Haroi provides the order. Mayumi is extroverted and talkative where Haroi is introverted and shy. She’s the leader while he’s far more of a follower. Mayumi can be caught up in her emotions while Haroi is analytical. In every sense of the word, the two are opposites, yet they make up for the other’s shortcomings well.

Closing Thoughts When I was working on this rewrite, I intentionally made sure that each character’s element fit their personality. The characters of contrasting elements are complete opposites intentionally to offer variety to the team. I loved doing this brief little analysis about the characters, their elemental matches, and their polar opposites. I’m hoping that you liked reading over it too, and I’ll see you the next time I inevitably decide to analyze these characters again!

#digimon #digimon frontier #frontier #rewrite #digital's frontier rewrite bs #frontiers unexplored #analysis #character analysis #takuya kanbara #koji minamoto #tomoki himi #izumi orimoto #junpei shibayama #koichi kimura #original characters #legendary warriors

19 notes · View notes

exxar1 · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 5: Why Machiavelli Would Never Wear a Mask (And Why You Shouldn’t Either)

12/9/2020

Last week’s episode of the Young Heretics podcast was about The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. The Prince is one of those classics of western lit that I’ve never actually read – or even taken a college class where this was one of the texts. What little I remember about this text is from history class during my junior year in high school. Mrs. Jones (no relation) told us that Machiavelli wrote The Prince as a treatise on political philosophy. He believed that the ends justified the means, and that the best way for a prince to retain power over the people was to rule by fear rather than love. The word “Machavellian” has always been used as a pejorative description in our modern society, often referring to those people who are cold, heartless, and unfeeling. Machiavelli’s name has become synonymous with those characters in popular movies, books and TV shows that attempt to control other characters and events by using various means of deceit and guile.

Now, to be fair, Mrs. Jones’ interpretation and summary of The Prince is not entirely wrong. I did a brief Google search on Machiavelli and The Prince, and about half the links of my search results reaffirmed that view. The other half, however, offered a surprisingly different take on The Prince, one that is also shared by Spencer Klavan on Young Heretics. That podcast is now 29 episodes old, but this is the first one that has presented me with something entirely new – both the text itself and the interpretation of it.

In his advice to the titular prince, Lorenzo de Medici, Machiavelli instructs him on how to best maintain power and control of his subjects and his state. The best way to do this, Machiavelli believed, was for the prince to be feared rather than loved. Also, at times, it would be necessary to use what many would consider to be unjust or immoral means in order to sustain that power and control. Hence Machiavelli’s negative reputation in the history books and modern culture.

But Spencer makes the argument that Machiavelli’s reputation is ill-earned. There’s more to this Italian philosopher than what has been passed down in the history books. To put it simply, Machiavelli was a realist. He addressed human nature – and human behavior – in harsh, realistic terms. This was how Machiavelli viewed the world. To use our vernacular, he didn’t sugarcoat the bad stuff. He understood how people behaved – both the ones in power and the ones being ruled – and he framed his advice to his prince in these simple, realistic terms.

I’ve spent the last several days thinking about this episode, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Spencer chose this episode to air when it did. All over the country, many state governors have issued lockdown orders for their principalities in response to a renewed surge in positive cases of COVID-19. As any of you who know me – either in real life or via social media – can attest, I am a rabid believer in the battle against face masks and the lockdowns. I’m also a firm believer in the actual science – as opposed to the political nonsense spouted by Doctor Fauci and his panel of “experts” – that says over and over how useless and pointless the masks are in the efforts to stop the spread of the corona virus. And, as you also know, I have plenty of time on my hands to think while at my day job, and the other day I came to a rather startling conclusion:

We should all be more like Machiavelli.

When exactly did we, the American people, become a nation of whiny, spoiled, self-entitled sissies? A nation of people who are so terrified of the possibility of dying that we happily give up our most basic freedoms and cower inside our homes or behind masks? Because that's exactly what's happened. The basic liberties and routines of our daily lives and, for many, their very livelihoods, were suddenly halted and/or shut down by our state governors who were acting in response to so-called science and medical “experts” in the effort to save a small, vulnerable percentage of our population. I've lost count of the number of times I've read on social media posts in the last 6 months about how pro-maskers wear a mask to protect their 85 year old grandmother or their 70 year old father. I've been called “heartless” and “pro-Nazi” from strangers in the comments section of news articles whenever I respond with the same argument that I'm going to put forth here.

We of the last couple generations have become so soft and spoiled and lazy that we've forgotten just how harsh and deadly real life can often be. And I'm including myself in that crowd. Those of us born in the last four decades of the 20th century have known nothing but prosperity and comfort, especially if – like me – you grew up in a typically middle class household. This is even more true of anyone born after 1995. I'm speaking of the generation that has never known life without Starbucks, Amazon, Google or a cell phone; the generation that grew up using laptop computers and watching TV by streaming it on the internet. In fact, we've become so complacent that we don't even have to leave our comfort zones to order a Big Mac from McDonald's or groceries from Walmart. When I was growing up in the 80s, I remember having to wait an eternity (4-6 weeks) for a toy to arrive that I had mail-ordered from a Sears catalog. Nowadays, I complain if my Amazon package isn't on my doorstep within 24 hours.

For pretty much all of us, 2020 was a massive wake-up call; a Mike-Tyson-punch-to-the-face or dive-into-Lake-Michigan-in-the-middle-of-December kind of wake-up call. None of us were prepared for a pandemic whose projected death toll was in the millions. Everyone from the top down – the president, our congressmen, our state governors, the national and local health experts – reacted instinctively. The medical experts, especially, were very quick to panic, based primarily on preliminary reports from European countries and China. Many state governors – most of them Democrats – were quick to declare a state of emergency and issue a lockdown order for their respective principalities. Hundreds of thousands of Americans were suddenly without work. Unemployment claims shot through the stratosphere. Congress approved an economic stimulus package. Everyone in the government – both national and local – assured us citizens that the lockdowns were temporary, two months at most.

But, of course, two months became three, then four, and by mid-July, many states were still in phase one or two of their “re-opening”. By this point, even the liberal-controlled mainstream media was reporting on the sudden spike of suicides in the lockdown states. Millions of unemployment claims were stuck in severe backlog, and more and more workers were being put on furlough by their employers – or just simply laid off. Here in Las Vegas, for example, the entire strip was a complete ghost town from mid-March to mid-June. This city's economy is utterly dependent on the tourism industry, and, with all casinos and hotels completely closed, the city as a whole suffered greatly. It's still suffering, in fact, even though most of the strip has been open since mid-July. Almost all the hotels and casinos can only afford to be open from Thursday to Sunday. Thousands here are still unemployed or working two part time jobs for barely minimum wage just to make basic ends meet.

And now, as I write this, our governor – along with those of California, New York, and many others – has declared a second round of lockdowns. In California, both Governor Newsom and the mayor of L.A. have banned indoor AND outdoor dining at all restaurants. And again, we the citizens have been told that this is for our own safety, and that these lockdowns will be temporary. One doesn’t have to look far on Twitter or Facebook to see cell phone videos of desperate, tearful, and/or furious restaurant and bar owners engaged in verbal rages about the injustice of all of this.

Here’s what should have happened clear back in February of this year:

Our leaders – our princes, if you will – both national and local, should have consulted not only the medical experts but also a team of economic and social advisors. The governors of every state should have taken a long, hard look at the long term cost of even a brief economic shutdown versus the projected death toll in the short term if COVID-19 was allowed to run its natural course through the U.S. population. You can already see where I’m headed with this. Our governors chose to shut down their states, to close all “non-essential” businesses, and ordered all citizens to self-quarantine. This was only supposed to be for a few weeks, at most. But we’ve all witnessed the long term effects of these shutdowns – skyrocketing unemployment rates, a rapid, severe spike in suicides and domestic abuse cases, and children who are falling so far behind in school due to “distance learning” that many will simply end up dropping out or repeating the same grade for another year.

Our princes should have been more like Machiavelli. They should have allowed life to continue as normal – no mask mandates, no social distancing orders, and most definitely no mandatory quarantines. Instead, the princes should have advised all citizens that the choice was theirs to self-quarantine or not, and that face masks would also be encouraged but completely optional. The result of this, of course, would mean a very high death toll in the short term. There would be no way to avoid this. As we already know now, face masks and social distancing are pointless and useless when it comes to preventing the spread of COVID. The highest numbers of fatalities would be among those older than 65. Hospitals and morgues would be overwhelmed. Emergency triage centers would have to be established in parking lots and empty football stadiums. For a month or two, the news headlines would be filled each day with the most recent death tolls.

But then, into the third month, the death count would start to go down. As herd immunity was finally achieved, life would, slowly but surely, get back to normal. And through it all, there would have been a slight drop in the regular business of many restaurants, movie theaters, and other recreational businesses that rely on tourism and seasonal traffic. But, ultimately, the country would have recovered from this much faster than they will in our present timeline. As it stands now, hundreds of thousands of small businesses across America have gone bankrupt and closed their doors for good. Even major restaurant chains like Ruby Tuesday and Sweet Tomatoe’s have permanently closed many – if not all – their locations. In the alternate timeline, where they had been allowed to remain open with no restrictions of any kind on the number of customers they were allowed to have inside at any time, these businesses would most likely still be up and running.

Yes, that means that your 75 year old father or your 90 year old grandma would have probably died. But that’s life. Like Machiavelli, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Life is hard. If you haven’t figured that out by now, you’re in for a long and frustrating existence on this earth. And lest you think I’m speaking from some superior, unaffected, condescending platform where I have not experienced any loss or hardship this year, let me remind of you of my blog post about my close friend Aaron Walker from a month ago. No, his death was not the result of COVID, as far as I know, but it was sudden, and it was completely unexpected. I’m still feeling his loss. But you know what? Life goes on. We mourn the dead, we bury them, and then we move on. Death is a fact of life. Machiavelli would have understood that, and so should all of us in 2020. This year has seen a lot of death, more than anything in recent decades, in fact. But that’s life. That’s the way life goes sometimes, and trying to avoid that inevitability by forcing face masks and quarantine and shutting down businesses on a whim is not going to change that simple fact.

I know many of you reading this are probably screaming at your phone screen right now, calling me all kinds of names and cursing me. “How can you be so heartless????” you rave. “How can you allow so many elderly and innocents to die just so you can still go to the movies or sit down at McDonald’s to enjoy your iced coffee and Big Mac????” “You’re a murderer because you still refuse to wear a mask in public!!!!”

And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am probably infecting others by not wearing a mask. I do still want to go to a movie on Friday night and pig out on overpriced popcorn and soda. I do enjoy going out to eat at least once a week with all my friends. And yep, I’m perfectly fine with accepting the reality that many people are going to die because our governors refused to sacrifice the whole society in the chance that it might save a few innocent lives.

In other words, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” That edict is as true today as when Spock said it to Captain Kirk in Star Trek 2 in 1982. Machiavelli would have completely understood that statement, and he also would have understood this: that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. We humans have been spreading disease to one another ever since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden. Death, you see, is the natural consequence of sin. Death is unavoidable, and death comes for us all. For some of us, we are lucky enough to live rich, full lives. For others, death comes all too soon. My grandfather will be 90 years old this year on December 31st. If I were to ask him today if he were ready to shuffle off this mortal coil and be welcomed into the arms of our Heavenly Father, his answer would be an immediate and resounding, “Yes!”. Your 75 year old father or your 85 year old grandmother are most likely looking forward to death. That doesn’t mean you should just kill them now by your own hand to hasten the inevitable. But it does mean that they are ready to meet their maker if their number is up. (And, by the way, is not more cruel to force the elderly to slowly waste away alone, locked up in forced quarantine in nursing homes, not allowed to see or even speak to their loved ones until they eventually die of depression, loneliness or COVID???)

COVID-19 is an act of God. It’s a chance of nature, a random thing that has struck the human race, and none of us have the power to change it or ward it off or protect ourselves and our loved ones against its wrath. As we have been doing since the Tower of Babel, we humans have infected one another and survived many, many plagues worse than this one. So you need to stop your whining, stop your complaining, pick yourself up, and get on with your fucking life. And, while you’re at it, you might want to open your Bible and get acquainted with your Creator. Because, sooner or later, you’re gonna meet him, and if you have not accepted his son, Jesus Christ, as your lord and savior, you will spend eternity in a place that makes COVID look like a summer’s vacation in the Florida Keys.

So, in conclusion, be more like Machiavelli. Throw away your damn mask, rise up against the tyranny of our modern princes, and help me get our lives back to normal. If we do not stand up for our freedoms we will most assuredly lose every last one of them.

Mmmmm-kay???

(And, by the way, if you haven’t been listening to Young Heretics, I strongly advise you to drop everything and begin immediately. Look it up on YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. It will change your life.

You’re welcome.)

#covid #covidiot #life #god #mask #liberty #freedom

3 notes · View notes