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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

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Unmasked ~ Nineteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to everyone who offered up their inbox for submissions to give @javistg a break from posting so much from me. Please enjoy the nineteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

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~~ Chapter 19 ~~

After a restless night, I am dreading breakfast. It feels as though I have lived a lifetime since yesterday, an eon since Peeta left Everdeen. Mary frets over me and how pale I am as she helps dress me. I drag my still tired body down the stairs and into the breakfast room. Madge and I will need to visit Johanna to see to her bandages, and that means I will need a hearty meal to fortify me.

My mind still grapples with the matter of hiding Johanna here at Everdeen and all of the details she revealed to me. A brush fire on the battlefield as Peeta tended to her, a drummer — So then it was while he was caring for Johanna that he was scarred. An enemy soldier attacking them and —

My stomach revolts unexpectedly and I pause, reaching a hand out to steady myself on a convenient piece of furniture in the hall.

She said that Peeta cut the man the way you slaughter a pig. It should not surprise me, this knowledge that my husband who served in the infantry was required to kill a man.

Like slaughtering a pig. With no emotion in her voice. I have seen pigs and chickens slaughtered for the table, I have felled deer and other game. It is a cold, emotionless task. It almost need be, otherwise one would starve. With deer, sometimes the arrow or the musket ball is not enough for a kill. I myself have needed to wield a knife to slice a throat. Yet as I attempt to imagine doing so to a man…

I see eyes. Eyes of so many I have called friend, family, love. And I can imagine no further. The one time my father attempted to teach Primrose how to hunt, she cried over the dead animal and begged him to take it home with us, claiming there was still a chance we might save the poor dear. He was still alive, Prim insisted. She could see it in his eyes! My father had closed the rabbit’s eyes and maneuvered my sister away from the sight, holding her and comforting her while I was left to deal with the task of skinning the beast. I can understand her trepidation now.

Then I think of that day in Aunt Effie’s garden, when Peeta drew a knife to withdraw thorns from my palm. The ease with which he wielded it. My head spins and I take a few deep breaths as I remind myself of the rest of what Johanna said. He was tending to a wounded patient and they were attacked. Mayhaps Peeta killed a man, but it would have been done in defense of himself and of her, for surely the other soldier would have killed them both had Peeta not acted swiftly.

Perhaps it is not the irrefutable knowledge that my husband has killed that upsets me, for I too have killed, albeit for utterly different reasons. They are not the same. Not the same at all. No, I wonder now if what troubles me most is the reconciliation of the gentle man I believe him to be with the callous picture Johanna described. I know my husband. He is no murderer and he is certainly not heartless. How then does he face the killing of another person in such proximity. Surely he must have seen the other man’s eyes? But then the other man must have seen Peeta’s as well.

I think then of the drawings, the way he describes the agony and anguish and guilt of war. Of losing someone in his care… How his drawings draw such focus to the eyes. It stands to reason that he feels a similar mix of terrible emotions in regards to those he was forced to kill.

The reminder helps calm the churning in my middle, enough that I am able to continue on to the breakfast room. I wonder though at my husband never telling me of this in all his confessions of the night. If I am honest with myself, I am upset that Johanna knows more of him than I. How much of that is owing to my newfound knowledge of her sex, I cannot be certain. It did not concern me much when I thought her a man. She has known him for years, she said, whereas I have only known him months.

Perhaps he sought to protect me from the horrors he has committed, or perhaps it disturbs him enough that he did not wish to speak of it. Perhaps we are simply not to the point where he feels at ease speaking of those moments with me. I resolve to do as he has done. Have patience and trust that he will tell me when he is prepared to trust me with this part of his past.

I sit at table and force some egg down my throat. The room is wretchedly quiet and unusually hot given that I am rather early, likely the first to rise today… until Primrose wanders in.

She halts in the doorway and runs her hands over the bodice of her dress. She is so lovely. Fresh as morning dew and beautiful as the rose for which she was named. Her words last night, however, taint the air between us.

“Prim—“

“How is Joe?” Our words overlap and I turn my attention to buttering my toast. I am unaccountably famished for the level of queasiness I feel. Food is simple, usually, and so I keep my eyes on that as I speak.

“He will be fine. Madge and I will see to his wounds. He sends his apologies for his harsh words last night.”

“He was in a great deal of pain, no doubt. Sometimes we are more harsh than we intend to be when we are in pain… are we not?” Prim says this softly and I glance over at her as she fills her plate.

“Yes. I suppose sometimes we are.”

“Katniss, I am…I must apologize. My words yesterday—“

“I mean only to protect you. I do not want you to feel that you have settled in your marriage.”

“Have you settled?” She asks, turning to the table with sparks in her eyes.

“At first I thought I did,” I admit to her. “I did not wish to marry at all, I thought. But I was fortunate. It is a great turn of luck that while my hand may have been forced into marriage, I could not have asked for a better husband. I wished for you to be free as I was not to choose your husband.”

She makes a strange noise and flounces to the table, sitting with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. “Then why can you not trust me to know my own heart and the strength of Rory’s character?”

“Perhaps because you speak so little of him.”

“You did not wish to hear.”

“I do now, Little Duck.”

Primrose arranges her skirts suddenly, perfectly delicate and ladylike. I smother a smile as I think of what Johanna might say of my sister this morning.

“I am not certain it matters now,” she says forlornly.

“Is that the only thing he said on the matter of your season? That it was for the best?” She nods and sniffles. I sigh to myself. “It is not much to go on. Is it possible he meant only that were you to have a season, it would strengthen your feelings for him, at least the certainty of them. If you are truly meant to be with Rory, then a few suitors would not change this. You’ve not interacted with a great deal of gentlemen.”

Primrose considers this as she begins to eat. “I suppose it possible. I would need to be careful in my wording when I ask him if that is what he intended.”

“Perhaps consult with Madge on this, as she seems to have a more delicate way with both words and men than I,” I suggest and she nods, seemingly resolved. I ask her again to tell me of him and listen as she speaks. She paints a rather rosy picture of the man, and while I am glad that she seems to have such tender feelings for her suitor, I cannot help but think that he sounds too good to be real. I do not mention that she has drawn most of her conclusions from his letters. Words are fine things and quite important, but it is our deeds and actions that truly make a marriage.

Slowly, the household awakens. Tasks await me, and I leave the breakfast room shortly after Madge and Maysilee enter it. Although, I am pleased when Prim rises to walk out with me. I do not wish strife between us.

A dizziness sweeps over me as we walk and I once more must use the furniture to steady myself.

“Katniss?” Prim asks as I close my eyes to halt the room from spinning. “Katniss are you unwell?”

“Only tired,” I tell her as she touches me. I draw strength from the contact although I still feel faint.

“Are you certain you do not wish me to see to Joe? You never had much stomach for such things.”

“Nay,” I say and she lifts one brow before leaning close to me.

“You know… I am quite good at keeping secrets.” I stare at her and mull over the weight of her words. Truthfully, her care would be much better for Jo. I could manage, but Prim is a budding, brilliant healer in her own right. The more I think of facing bandages and wounds not yet healed, the worse I feel.

Yet…Johanna has only grudgingly trusted me with her secret. “I have promised to see to him, and he is Peeta’s friend. This task falls to me, Little Duck.”

“Oh very well,” Prim says, and huffs but leans close once more. “At least allow me to make some ginger root tea for you. You look positively green.”

“Green?” I ask and she nods. “Yes, that might be just the thing I need.”

She smiles at this and helps me towards the study. I see to a few tasks and sip the tea when Primrose brings it to me. It does soothe the roiling in my middle. Shortly after the nausea dissipates, so does the feeling of being overheated, just in time for Madge to join me. We gather what supplies we will need, and ride out to the cottage where Jo lives.

“Well I think you for not having the esteemable Mr. Crane visit me,” Johanna says as she opens the door before moving stiffly back to the bed.

Her cottage is humble but tidy. A bottle of orange and bergamot scented oil warms by the fire, one of the products of this very farm. Shirts await mending in a basket and a simple breakfast of egg and roll sit half eaten on a platter next to the chair. There are no delicate or personal touches to denote who lives here, save for the wide brimmed hat Johanna usually wears.

“I would not wish his sermons on my worst enemy,” I mutter as Madge directs Johanna to remove her shirt and lay on her stomach.

“I’d wager your ears burn right off when he starts in talking lust and carnal sins. Do those feel aimed at you, Kitten?” I glare at her and Madge hushses her. “S’nothing to be ashamed of. Every man is considered virile for his urges. Why shouldn’t we? How else does one get in the family way?”

“By laying back and just holding on until it’s over,” Madge suggests and Johanna snorts.

“Children are work enough on their own. Making them ought to at least be enjoyable as consolation. I’ve been fortunate in that regard on both ends. Plenty of enjoyment, no children. And you have too, haven’t you, Mrs. Mellark?” I smile at her and saw away at her bandages along the sides. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Oh I am so sorry, Johanna,” I purr and she scowls at me but then starts laughing.

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After we have seen to Johanna and return to Everdeen, the daily post brings happy tidings for both Everdeen sisters.

For Prim, a letter from Mr. Rory Hawthorne, adamantly expressing regrets over his hasty words and clarifying that he only meant that Prim deserves a season and a chance to be certain of whom she wishes to marry.

“A season full of suitors praising you will in no way diminish my affections for you, and I greatly regret that my last may have given the impression of such,” she reads aloud to Madge and I during a quiet moment. “My feelings will hold steady and patient. Although, I confess that I will be among the first in line, begging a dance or calling for tea, lest you forget me in all the attentions sure to be heaped at your toes.”

While I still hold my doubts in regards to Mr. Hawthorne, the letter does much to soothe my fears for my sister.

As for my fears in regards to my own marriage, a letter arrives from Peeta as well to soothe those. I pocket it and save it for a private moment. I barely manage it with the festival still ongoing, the noises of dancing and happy laughter a backdrop as I stand in a quiet spot, beneath a lantern as the day fades to evening, a brilliant sunset painted across the sky in his favourite shade of orange. I drink in the sight and then scan my husband’s words, smiling and blushing at the opening salutation:

My Darling Wife:

He continues, assuring me that he has arrived safely and fortunately timed, as his friend is most in need of Peeta’s assistance and is grateful for the pair of men who chose to accompany him. I smile at his descriptions of his friend, the farm on which they now labor, and even the men of Everdeen bringing songs from home to the new fields. Other words, however, concern me.

Nights are lonely without you, my pearl. The mattress here is too soft and wide without your warmth. The empty space beside me invites terrible visions. I sleep now in a more rough manner, as I did when my life was ruled by drum beats, the rattle of sabers, and musket fire. On the floor if the nights grow cold, outside beneath the stars and moon should they be balmy. Even then, the sight of the heavens keeps you with me, knowing the same stars I stare upon as I seek refuge in sleep watch over your own nights and dreams. It seems to help for now, as though the return to the routine of sleeping thus banishes the lingering effects of that life.

I close my eyes and send my thoughts across the miles to him, hoping he might feel that I am with him, caring for him, loving him, longing for his return. His words do little to soothe my fears for him as they carry such a sadness to them. Save for the final paragraph, which I know I shall read again and again over the coming days.

I can only hope that our parting moments have not tarnished your opinion of me. I acted in such a base manner, taking advantage of the night and our parting, succumbing to the temptation to treat you so. I beg a thousand pardons from you for my roughness. I am indeed the brute you accused me of, as I must confess that as guilty as I feel for my lack of gentility in those moments, I think of them near constantly, with a powerful fever in my blood. The effect you have on me…my wife, my love, precious pearl…Katniss, I cannot even describe it save to say that every ounce of me longs to return to you, to hold you in my arms and feel your breath upon my neck, your hands…well those I would wish wherever you choose to place them. And indeed, I even long to perhaps repeat our parting moments, albeit in a more gentle manner suitable to your comfort. For now, I must work and hope that I have not destroyed what fragile foundations we have so carefully built together. Until I return to you, I remain…

Your ever loving husband,

~Peeta~

He apologizes. He apologizes for a thing I cannot regret. A thing I think of near constantly as well, also with a frightening fever in my blood that I’ve no idea how to quench without him. I do not know how to tell him that I too am filled with longing. For him. For his return.

I feel as though I hold his very soul with this parchment, much as I do when I peruse his sketches. I envy his ability to so easily express himself and curse my own reticence to reciprocate. Even writing out I love you, Peeta angers me. So hollow compared to the picture he paints with the words in his letters. I crumple the thing into a ball and toss it to the flames.

That does no good in quenching the fever taken hold of me either.

I haven’t his gift for words and can only hope that my scrawled missives might convey my feelings back to him. They seem so paltry compared to his, my letters short scraps of news or remarks on the weather, the festival. I do not know how to convey the depth of my feelings on such thin paper. Not even the ink seems thick enough to carry the right tone, and yet he manages the feat.

The days proceed. Most days bring with them a letter from Peeta. Whenever they arrive, I savor them, drinking in his words, reading them three times or more, until I think perhaps I have an adequate response to send. Adequate but I fear not enough.

Each morning when I wake, I fight fatigue and nauseau. I request the ginger root tea and keep my theories to myself for now. I pass a day waiting for my courses that never arrive, and then another. I begin to hope in the absence – the absence of both Peeta and my monthly cycle – but heeding Madge’s counsel, I hold that knowledge close my heart until I can be certain.

In the meantime, I add his letters to my book, in place of his morning sketches. I dream of that night, and of all the others. That night for which he apologized. Apologized as though I could feel debased or shamed by what we shared. A thing that has led me to a sin most grievous, I fear. My hands now wander in the night as I dream of him and attempt to recreate his touch. He apologizes while I cling to the hope of certainty – the certainty of our happiness should I be correct in my hopes that I am with child. Some days it near destroys me, and then the post arrives.

My mother notes my tea preferences and smiles, soft and content. When my father asks her what has her so pink and lovely, she assures him that it is nothing. Simply the brightness of a fair morning and the pleasure of having two contnent daughters, a bountiful harvest.

After breakfast that day, she requests a moment of my time and embraces me.

“How late?”

“Nearly six days now,” I tell her and she kisses my temple.

“I will have Joe exercise Sagittaria for you.” I blush hotly at that. Johanna will surely know why, but I do not contradict my mother’s bidding. “In a few weeks, we will send for the doctor. Does Peeta know?”

“Not yet,” I tell her and she leans back to caress my cheek.

“Are you pleased?” I manage a nod and then bury my face in her bosom when she embraces me again. Now if only I could summon the courage to tell him how I feel. I should think it would be easier through ink and paper and yet I have had no success with it.

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I huff angrily in the afternoon sunshine one day, tapping the end of my quill on the desk. Only four days remain in our separation and I have yet to write a satisfactory letter to him. Only the short, rather impersonal things one might send to a cousin or mere acquaintance. Worse, his grow more removed every day. It is as though he slips further away from me the longer I am unable to convey my feelings.

Madge walks by the open study door, her laughter clear and beautiful. Maysilee dances along behind her, singing a silly song, twirling and losing her balance, grasping hold of her mother’s skirts to keep from falling.

Such courage they have in acting as their true selves. Maysilee fears no judgement in her imaginings and games. She finds joy with no caution to temper it. And Madge… Even in her secrets and her scandalous affair, my friend found the courage to seize her desires. Such courage Johanna has in leaving everything familiar to her and building a life of her own, free of the shackles but also the security of her parents.

Such courage it must have taken Peeta to open his heart to me every step of our marriage.

I sit straight and gather my own courage. Perhaps I have not been as brave as I could wish, but I shall begin now. I can be brave with Peeta. He will not discard my heart carelessly. I think of all our nights in the kitchens, in front of the fire, beside the lake, and in the arms of their comforting memories, I write.

My Darling Husband,

This letter should have made its way to you a week past, and yet I struggled to find the courage to put my thoughts to words. I beseech you to sleep in peace, or have you forgotten my requirements of you? I would hate for your lack of caring for your own person to dim our pending reunion. Your apologies are unnecessary and rather insulting. I am made of stronger stuff, as you know. A brute in the night, as long as he has your gentle touch in the day, is nothing for me to fear and nothing for you to regret.

I read back over my words and blush. Fan myself as it has grown quite hot in this room. That is quite enough sentiment, I decide and charge onward with one of my more regular litanies of ongoings at home. I manage one more thing I likely should have mentioned in an earlier letter. A subtle hint that I have come to know his companion, Joe, quite well in his absence. I hear shouts in the hall and hurry to finish.

Until you return home to me, I remain

Your loving wife,

Katniss

“Katniss! Horses! In the lane!” Prim shouts, pausing in the doorway as I sign my name. She smiles at me and I stand. It is good to see this side of her again. Smiling and happy, eager to greet visitors. I am glad of it and leave my letter to finish sealing later.

“We are not expecting the Hawthornes yet, are we? Or perhaps Mr. Rory Hawthorne wishes one more chance to woo you before the season begins,” I tease and she shakes her head.

“Perhaps they shall visit in spring.”

I follow her giddy pace down the hall, as quickly as I can manage as I feel a bit ill at the moment. I rest a hand on my middle and will the feeling to abate. Through the window, I catch sight of man still mounted on a horse. His shoulders and back a familiar, broad shape, encased in a dark green coat. He removes his hat and my breath hitches at the blonde curls that gleam in the sunshine.

“Peeta,” I whisper and hasten my footsteps.

He is home! He is home early! My heart races as I grab hold of my skirts and overcome Prim, through the open doors. A chestnut prances nervously as he announces himself to the footman.

It is the wrong horse.

I halt and Prim collides with me. My smile vanishes.

“Ah! There she is! Mrs. Mellark, do tell these chaps that I am your brother now.”

“Sir Robert,” I manage to say and his strained smile smoothes out. It is then that I notice Delly on a mare at his side. I manage a curtsy to the pair of them.

“Indeed! We came ahead of the coach with our things. It should be here shortly. Surely my brother told you of our intent to visit?” he says and manages to steady his horse long enough to dismount, sweeping into a bow directed at me.

“He did not.”

“Oh,” Robert’s smile falters for a moment and then returns brighter than ever. “I did send word.”

I was almost married to this man. The thought leaps up and claims my attention, unbidden and strangely…unpleasant, and I cannot help but wonder if the last time I saw him, was he proposing to me from behind a mask of lies or was he kissing me from behind a mask of plaster and paint and more lies?

“Peeta is not here presently,” I say, the joy I felt only moments ago now cracks across my chest, in an unnameable mixture of emotions. My head spins and I feel slightly faint as I fight against the very real and evident feeling that I might disgrace myself and purge my stomach of its contents right here on the steps. “I have sent his post on to him.”

“Ah, then the news was lost in the time of transfer no doubt.” He turns to help Delly from her horse and then strides up the stairs and straight to my sister, taking her hand and once more bowing, clearly confident that he will not be turned away, despite the lack of notice. “The lovely Miss Primrose Everdeen, I presume. Indeed your sister has not exaggerated your beauty. Such lovely sisters, I feared my memory might have played tricks but lo! You are as radiant as I recall.”

The last is spoken directly to me, with eyes and teeth shining in a flattering smile. A traitorous flutter disrupts my pulse, although I manage to control it quickly. He still holds my sister’s hand. His wife only now joins us.

“Katniss?” Prim asks and I glance at her wide eyed expression.

“Sir Robert Mellark,” I manage to croak. “Peeta’s half brother.”

“Come now, we are family, Katniss! You will not allow me my fun? You must introduce me as his twin brother!”

I ignore his words and incline my head towards the door. “Primrose, please tell Sae that we have guests. Sir Robert Mellark and his wife.” She thankfully does not question, although the current of unease must be plain to her. She extricates her hand from Sir Robert’s and hurries inside.

“Yes! My wife. She claims to have met you before.”

“Indeed we have met. ‘Tis good to see you again, Delly,” I say and find that I mean it.

“We are not causing you trouble?” Delly asks with a lovely, happy smile that I remember quite well.

As much as this churning, confusing feeling inside me makes me wish to turn Sir Robert away, I know that I cannot deny Peeta’s family a visit, and I would not dream of being rude to Delly. She has done me no injury.

“No, of course not. It is only that Peeta will likely be gone another four days.”

“No matter! We will find plenty to amuse us in the meantime. I believe I caught sight of a harvest festival as we rode in?” Sir Robert says. I nod an affirmative and he offers an arm to Delly. “Excellent. I’ve not been to one in an age!”

“Then by all means, make yourselves at home,” I say, hoping that my words ring sincere, as I am not sure I can distinguish up from down as I follow the man I thought to marry and his wife into my home.

I pause in the doorway and turn back, holding one hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting through the light and the dirt. There is no other rider in the lane.

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To be continued…Chapter 21 will post here on the @everlarkficexchange

#springtime edition #late submission #prompt 88 #M

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watchingninjago-archive · 5 years

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Season 3, Episode 1 - The Surge

Ah, good old S3. The one that I continually bring up as the first season Zane dies in, because a) the writers seem to love killing him, b) can the writers not do that that is incredibly rude

Well, that happens in the finale. I’ll let my dread build up for the occasion, then. Until then, we’ve got a good season to get through.

[22:10] oh what the hell!!! new intro!!!

[21:49] that fucking slaps

[21:39] The ultimate battle… where Lloyd got eaten by a dragon and then had the magical energy dragon he was riding explode the dragon he was eaten by.

[21:19] Huh. Looks like the “wait this is lego who gave them the right to be this dramatic” part of me finally kicked in. But man, that’s gotta suck for them to rebuild.

[21:09] Oh hi, dude in a wheelchair. That looks a bit… precarious.

[20:59] Wait, why New Ninjago City? That New ____ bit applies generally when it’s a seperate city or location, but named after an older city or location, like New York, New Mexico, New Zealand (Zeeland), etc. If you’re just rebuilding, it doesn’t make sense to add that, as it’s still the same city. Ninjago City was badly damaged by the earthquakes, but it wasn’t to the point of having to start completely over, right?

[20:57] Hovercar! --- wait. What’s the timespan for this?

[20:57] Huh. The ninja can move on with their lives for now, at least.

[20:42] Okay, we’re now watching Jay sneak up on somebody singing in the shower.

[20:39] Hi, Kai!

[20:35] Huh? What’s going on?

[20:33] Kai’s a teacher! Neat. And you can have hovercars, but god forbid we use a whiteboard.

[20:26] Zane and Cole are also teachers! And… and what do you mean on the friiiiiehwHY IS HE GLITCHING OUT

[20:18] Jeez! Not cool, kids!

...god i want to see a tacky poster explaining to the kids not to remote control the teachers please and thank you

[20:13] Ah. The wonders of education.

[20:03] I am going to fight a kid again.

[19:55] Oh! Sensei Wu took over Darkly’s!

[19:51] Jay’s a teacher too! I guess that just leaves Lloyd, Nya and Garmadon as characters who’d be majorly impacted by the end of the Age Of Ninja unaccounted for. I’m assuming Misako’s off doing research or something.

[19:57] your fave is problematic: cole steals his co-workers’ food from the fridge

[19:41] Oi. Where can I get that giant tea making machine?

But like… yeah. The ninja excl. Lloyd are like… adults. Maybe acting a bit like teens from time to time because kids show but… they’re adults with jobs and crap. That’s a very weird thought.

[19:33] Man, I love me them group dynamics

[19:22] Well, Lloyd’s doing a bit of award receiving, it seems.

[19:15] Nya’s a teacher too! So I guess that leaves Garmadon unaccounted for.

[19:06] Huh. That’s… not a good sign for Jaya this season. I’m a fan of Jaya so that’s, I dunno. Disappointing.

[19:00] Man, they’re either still in the Constant Threat mindset or are just really desperate to let loose on SOMETHING. Considering the kids they have to teach… it could be either.

[18:48] Aaaw! Jay’s geeking out about Borg Industries.

[18:45] Also the camera’s… really spinning. Really wants me to get that vertigo experience.

[18:42] Zane just snapped and kicked Jay in the leg. DJdfngjd

[18:34] Oh, look at you, Kai. Being all… cynical. I mean, you don’t really have a lot of past to go off of, y’know? The world was only made like… three generations ago. And also somehow a few thousand years ago…. What even is this timeline?

[18:30] Welp.

[18:24] Also, if you took the field trip on a dragon you do run into a lot of safety risks.

[18:20] god he’s desperately trying to be One Of The Kids… Cole this is the one time you’re not an eternal mood but I forgive you

[18:16] Also, Nya in the bg smiling at first but then just… dying inside

[18:15] oof

[18:07] But like… huh. I’m guessing it’s been a while since the events of S2. Logically in real life it’d be up to maybe a decade between seasons, but more likely it’d be a year or two at most, which is still a while.

[17:49] Man. NNC looks pretty cool.

[17:31] Well, I’m sorry sir, we can’t all have hovercars!

[17:29] Wait! It’s the postie. Man, that guy’s seen some crap.

[17:20] Cole remains just… frighteningly buff. I’m scared that if I shook his hand it’d break mine.

[17:09] (Wu) “Besides, it’s not like we can’t find where we’re going.” YOU SURE? Because I’ve gotten lost sometimes trying to find certain entertainment slash casino slash hotel complexes that will remain unnamed and it takes up like half of the Yarra in the city

[17:07] Okay, nevermind. That’s definitely like a beacon among the hills.

[17:04] Like… it’s very tall.

[16:59] ouch

[16:54] PIXAL???? I’VE HEARD OF YOU AND I LOVE YOU ALREADY

[16:42] Oh my god her voice is so relaxing though??? Like robotic, certainly, but not at all like jarring? Is that a weird thing to say?

[16:36] (Pixal) “What does ‘Zane’ stand for?” That’s just his name, m’am

[16:33] I mean, I hear Pixane is a thing that happens here? And I can understand the relationship part being rushed (god that is gonna be painful huh) but if I see Zane having a crush on Pixal I don’t really care. I don’t like how crushes usually somehow mean We’re Gonna Hook Up Soon but to be honest I don’t even have any form of romantic attraction, am human, and am having a bit of a crush on Pixal right now. He can do whatever, man.

[16:25] Welp! But goddammit, if it sets off my romantic repulsion I’m going to fight my brain, it’s! in! his! rights! to! crush! on! Pixal! Goddammit brain let me have fun here

[16:20] wait wait wait I just… man only in Lego can Pixal get away with having half her chest exposed.

[16:12] Okay I realise what I just said about Zane having a crush on Pixal but c’mon this is getting creepy what she’s on about now. NNC is reading more and more like a dystopia by the second when you think about it. Everything is connected. It’s being fed to Borg Industries. If BI isn’t doing good then what the hell would this mean?

[16:05] I- I. I mean, what DOES power him?

[15:36] WaaaAIIIIT. THIS ISN’T GOOD.

[15:16] Wait. Is this licensed? Also fucking… video games…

[15:05] “They have a Perfect Match console!” nsddhgiufsjd like that one Choices game? Also I heard we’re having a love triangle somewhere but this soon? What the hell, writers?

[15:00] UHHHH WHAT THE HELL. GODDAMMIT WE ARE NOT DOING SOME SORT OF AUTOMATED SOULMATE CRAP GET THAT SHIT OUT OF HERE.

[14:54] THIS IS CREEPY AS HELL… IS THIS SUPPOSED TO ALL BE *GOOD?*

[14:53] No. No, we are NOT doing this.

[14:50] I am going… to go commit... murder. None of you can stop me.

I am going to die before I get through this episode, jesus christ, let’s continue,

[14:49] PLEASE. MAKE IT STOP.

[14:47] WHHHHHY!!!!!

Usually I avoid anything with any romance in it like the plague (which is 99% of YA fiction aka stuff in my demographic) let alone LOVE TRIANGLES and now I’m seeing why Terrible Writing Advice has it as a running gag! If you’re not familiar with the channel, it’s exactly as labelled. It’s an author giving you advice on what NOT TO DO as stuff to do (but blatantly the first category). A running gag is that The Love Triangle Is Awful Author JP Fixall, which indicates how much the real JP hates them.

[14:44] (everyone gasps almost horrified at the results) THAT’S HOW I’VE BEEN FEELING FOR THE PAST HALF AN HOUR YOU GOOF! THIS IS A TEN SECOND SEQUENCE.

[14:42] WeLPPP WE HAVE TO DO THIS SHIT THEN

[14:34] Hey, Mr. Borg! So about that matchmaking machine you have in the video game floor downstairs… can we talk about that?

[14:32] Oh my god, I can’t even enjoy the episode because of the stupid love triangle I’m dreading.

[14:22] djdjdjd he really had to call out his parents for naming him that

[14:20] Why are you all acting so shocked? That looks cool as shit.

[14:07] UMMMMMM????? I’M SORRY WHAT

[14:01] Holy shit, um… they just killed him. They killed Zane’s dad between seasons, jesus christ.

[13:38] Man, but like. Huh.

[13:27] (Cyrus) “I’m glad it’s just you four.” UHHH

[13:15] It’s… a statue?

[13:11] (Kai) “Oh wow. It’s a statue. Of yourself.” I’m telling you that!

[13:04] UHHHH CYRUS? CYRUS YOU’RE JUST GONNA WHISPER IN KAI’S EAR ABOUT HOW HE NEEDS TO PROTECT THE OTHER NINJA FOR NINJAGO’S SAKE AND JUST… LEAVE IT THERE

[13:01] Oh, well, “them”, but I assumed it was the ninja based on context. Whatever it is.

[12:53] What the fuck is going on?

[12:22] Wait, since when did Kai hate technology? Was that something else from the pilot episodes? And… whelp, it’s broken.

[12:15] Ooooh. This isn’t good.

[11:53] Whelp! Time to protect them blades!

[11:49] OUCH

[11:19] And this is why you don’t build over where the Overlord was defeated, presumably. It curses the damn place.

[11:01] Man… those are some angry machinery.

[10:57] JESUS CHRIST THEM TOO??? PIXAL??? GUYS YOU’VE GOT KIDS WITH YOU

[10:23] Christ, why were they even allowed in there? This is a massive WorkSafe violation.

[10:13] God, I love the new technology based aesthetics we’re getting here though. I will confess, I love me them tech. I don’t really have the brains for it, but I wouldn’t deny it being cool as shit.

[10:10] Well! Let’s do this!

[10:06] Also, as always, the soundtrack slaps.

[9:51] And the music’s been updated to fit the technology theme of the season! In the previous two seasons, we got a lot of the classic Cinematic Orchestra (probably not the name but still). Now we’re doing a more techno beat… kind of thing

[9:48] (Zane) “It’s not sharp! Why even call it a blAde?”

[9:37] And thus continues the long tradition of the ninja almost falling to their deaths.

[9:29] Ow.

[9:27] Man, you really should find a stop to your fall soon.

[9:23] Conveniently placed … what do you call em

[9:16] Well!!!

[9:05] The Overlord’s back.

[8:52] Oh. Oh no.

[8:43] (laughs nervously) what the fuck?

[8:31] Man, this is really just going downhill. I knew there was something severely off with NNC!

[8:26] thROw mE!

[8:17] HELL YEAH!!!

[8:10] Oh! Hell yeah! Vehicles!

[7:47] Welp!

[7:28] Pixal what the hell

[6:47] Hell yeah!!!! Also, goddammit I CALLED IT NNC WAS REALLY OFF

[6:26] Man! You’re really ready to go kick some ass, huh? I literally cannot blame you.

[5:25] Wow! This is actually really wild and I’m really into it.

[4:47] So! New vehicles! Mainly to sell merch but man is this a fun way of doing it!

[4:10] god i love this show!

[3:30] uhhh what just happened

[3:26] Lloyd! thank you!

[3:20] And now they’re group hugging him!

[3:16] Shiiit. That goddamn Overlord.

[2:42] Alright! Let’s see what happens now!

[1:43] Oh!!! I guess the technoblades are with the ninja! This was just a false flag.

[1:30] OOOOH. IT WASN’T.

[0:52] god like… to Lloyd, all of the other ninja are the Dad Friend like… stop collecting dads Lloyd. you’ve got too many. put a few back.

[0:49] Oh god. Cyrus.

[0:38] OH NO

[0:26] Kids show! Now with 80% more body horror and 70% more useless romantic subplots!

#ninjago #jaime sobs over ninjago season 3 #the surge

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inspiredactionlife · 5 years

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5 Tips for Success From a Recovering Pragmatist

Success is whatever we define it personally to be. For some, success means simply, to be happy, for others success means to be financially bountiful. Whatever the end goal of success may be for you there are still basic self imposed rules that we place upon the journey to success. The power, or lack thereof, lies in those rules.

As a die-hard pragmatist, everything I did was measured against those “self-imposed” rules. Rules that I, subconsciously, placed there in order to protect myself from failure, embarrassment or let down. It was not until I did a thorough self-evaluation did I realize that among other things, the one main attribute that I used to like about myself was the very thing that held me back from pursuing the success in life that I absolutely desired; my pragmatism. Pragmatism....everything is black and white...always protected me, defended me, kept things under control for me, allowed me to proceed with caution on all fronts of my life so that I wouldn't have to look like a fool for trying things that I actually really wanted to try or do. So now that I have found out this “life hack” that I am no longer bound by self-imposed imprisonment of my potential, I want to share it with all my fellow pragmatists out there because you know who you are...

Failure Means that Success is Just a Little Further Down the Road: Admit it, a pragmatic person is nearly allergic to failure or rejection. We don't want to be exposed as an imposter. We have perfectly curated our image and skill set so the last thing we want is to blow the cover off of our perfectly coiffed personal brand. We want to be the most sensible person in the room. We can recite evidence for every decision we have arrived at, we can roll out facts, figures, flow charts you name it, to protect our decisions. Therefore we cannot possibly fail because we were so cautious and sure that the only roles we would take on are the ones we demonstrably have done with success in the past; anything beyond that is far too risky for us. Well, guess what? If you do what you've always done, you will get what you always got. Ask yourself, if you died today would you be taking any dreams and unused talents with you? I know I can say unequivocally YES to that. I just couldn't live with that now that I am mindful of this concept. I have consciously decided to say good-bye to my old friend fear and hello to positivity. I now talk to myself about the fact that failure is just a small bathroom break on the way to my final destination of success. Pursue the ideas that are IN you, not what's expected OF you by others.....that has been so freeing! This leads me to my next tip...

Stop Being a People Pleaser: You know what I mean. Not much explanation is needed here. Not everyone is going to like you no matter what you do to make them happy. I realized that I was trying to make everyone else around me happy...but me. You know what was the real rub was on this...it didn't work anyway. You can't fake happiness especially with your friends and family. They can sense the energy you put out whether they can clearly decipher it or not...they know. The old adage, “If mama ain't happy; ain't nobody happy”. Very profound wisdom there. Happiness comes from within and is not to be confused with contentedness or complacency. Let that sink in for a bit....

Success Leaves Clues, Patterns & Choices: You may have heard this quote before. How many times have you heard somebody say, If I can just get through this day or this week or this year, things will all get so much better. We are unwittingly in survival mode a lot of the time because life is challenging. It is busy and sometimes it feels like there aren't enough hours in the day; or this is what we tell ourselves...so it is. My favorite quote is from Henry Ford, he says “Whether you think you can or you can't; you're right.” Once I became aware of just how much power my mind wielded over my life this quote struck me as so profound and ultimately life-changing. I had to stop, dead in my tracks and take stock of what my thoughts and “mind-movies” as I now like to call them, had been up to this point. What do you say to yourself throughout the day if you really stopped to be mindful about it? I'm going to tell you, you would be shocked at the things you say to yourself which in my case my self talk ultimately lead to a very calculated and underwhelming use of my natural gifts and talents. I was not putting myself out there because what difference could I make? There are so many better writers, speakers, motivators, life coaches out there; what makes me think I would succeed...the old Imposter Syndrome! If all of us would just stop, take the time to reconnect with ourselves and get re-acquainted with ourselves, we would be so amazed at the outcome. Success leaves clues...at times you may have to go all the way back to childhood to remember what you like, what you are just NATURALLY good at and what lights you up. There have been clues all along the way. We were far less inhibited as children then we are as adults so what were we good at then? What did we like to do then? After doing this quiet exercise for a few days, I re-remembered that I liked ballet and I was good at it...so I ran out and signed up for adult ballet...it lights me up. I shunned my practicality and inhibitions and said...I'm doing this for me and I don't care what anyone says about it! It was great. What clues has your UN-pursued life left for you?

Feed Your Faith and Starve Your Doubt: This also takes some practice but in what has become my new normal and mantra, if there is an idea inside me and I get a prompting about it, I will now act on it no matter how illogical it may sound. Sometimes you just have to listen to your instincts or your gut and act on what it tells you if it is in alignment with who you are. For example, I had a little quick thought like wow wouldn't be great to be Tiger Woods out there and experience winning the Masters after this long road back to success....that would not be a thought that was in alignment with who I am, because I am an atrocious golfer despite my best efforts...terrible...just terrible. However, it was the following of that internal nudge that ultimately lead me to a abrupt career change into Life Coaching. I really had never even heard of such a thing, but as mentioned above, success leaves clues! I had been the unofficial life coach to all of my friends and even acquaintances my entire life, inadvertently. It was as if destiny just reached down and dropped this neatly into my lap and now here I am. I will continue to believe that I am walking in the path that I was always meant to walk in and it feels invigorating every single day of my life.

Think Big in Small Spaces: Limits, labels, parameters, stereotypes, judgments...we have all felt and absorbed the messages that society has foisted upon us. We make snap judgment upon ourselves and others because society has told us to. You are a victim, you are oppressed, you are under-educated, you are not smart. Sometimes it can be hopeless to even dare to dream because of where we came from or who are parents were or how much money we have or don't have. I'm here to declare that no matter what your life circumstances are, your future will not be defined by them if you dare to want better for yourself AND believe that you can have better. I don't care who you are. Also play big. I so wish someone had told me this in a realistic conversation and explained to me why this is true for me. There are many unaccounted for years that I just was getting by and limiting my potential because nobody gave me “permission” to be a success. Everyone had permission to succeed. Always go bigger than your practicality says you should. If it's in you and aligned with who you are, I truly believe you can have it. We would have NONE of the modern inventions if those people played small ball. Thank goodness they didn't. They were the crazy ones that followed their instincts and put aside their inhibitions and went for it. Remember that.

Life is now and it is NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT. Get in the game and stop wasting time. It will be the best decision you have ever made.

#motivation #lifecoach #mindset #how to succeed #limitingbeliefs #live your best life #its never too late #dreambig

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randomnotesofmyown · 3 years

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Psycho Pass (17)

Episode 17 - Iron heart

Order was restored in the city, yet damages and losses had been done.

Agents of Division one assess the aftermath of the chaos that resulted in

1) destruction across the city, 2) Kagari unaccounted for, and 3) one enforcer of Division two took advantage of the chaos and fled.

Masaoka asked Ginoza if he thought Kagari would escape.

Tsunemori wondered if they had won. Kogami replied "Detective work is, by nature, about treating wounds. Our investigations start after there are victims."

"But at least with this lost game we were able to end in a draw. We just have to settle with that." "In the end, what did all that talk about the safety of the Sibyl system mean?" "A safe and perfect society is just an illusion."

"In this society, people depend on things that are convenient but also dangerous. Our government made us take risks. But the risks were dispersed and distributed so cleverly that no one was able to notice it."

"Everyone might have been looking the other way. Precisely because there was danger...they had to act as if there wasn't instead, in order to keep their sanity." ep17-07 "I don't like to lump people together when I speak, since everyone is different...but I'll generalize broadly here."

"They can unknowingly try to evade their responsibilities."* Then Kogami changed the subject, saying that "how they're going to judge Makishima...the problem is what happens next. It's a far more difficult and troublesome task than shooting a dominator."

"it's an undeniable fact that he committed crimes." Kogami said in a teeth-gritting voice. "In any case, we still have that idiot Kagari to worry about. He split off from us and went down to the basement. Why did the communication end there?"

Ginoza and the others were still assessing the damages caused by the chaos instigated by Makishima. Kunizuka noted that "a large number of people needing mental care...detention facilities overflowing with people...economic losses due to crippled city functions..."

"It's too early to talk in the past tense. There's still the matter of his sentencing... The judiciary has been abolished for a while now. It will probably be difficult to prosecute someone based solely on evidence" said Masaoka.

Masaoka, "Okay. Okay." Then, Ginoza got a call from the PSB Chief. The Chief told Ginoza that the cases Makashima was involved in would be investigated by a special team formed by the Ministry of Welfare, and it was thus out of the hands of the PSB.

The Chief continued saying that Makishima's case being a unique one, medical staff would have to be there whenever he is interrogated, and it was important to keep the information confidential. Ginoza tried to voice his opposition, "Makashima Shogo was very likely involved in various crimes in the past. In order for the facts to come to light, the PSB needs to be able to interrogate him!" "Are there any unsolved cases in those past crimes you mentioned?" "No...but..."

"No, he was disposed of." The Chief corrected herself. "Rather than being worried about an arrested criminal, you have a big problem at division 1, don't you? An Enforcer escaped...and he's still missing." Ginoza, "We still don't know if he really escaped." Chief, "The Sibyl system has already been restored. Enforcer Kagari hasn't been caught by the surveillance network because he's been steering clear of it as he moves about. As it stands, you'll be held responsible." "That's...uh..." When Ginoza told division 1 the Chief's decision, Kogami exploded.

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that?! You're an Enforcer!" Kogami, "This is not the time to discuss our positions! It's strange that we aren't even allowed to question him when we were the ones who arrested him, isn't it?!" "It wasn't my decision, if you want to complain..." "'If you want to complain, talk to the Chief directly.' Is that it?! I'm an Enforcer, there's no way I can see the Chief, is there?! If I actually march into her office, it's you who will be in trouble, inspector." Then, as Kogami walked out of the office, Kunizuka shut her eyes. Her eyes remained closed as she answered Tsunemori's question of what would happen.

Ginoza ordered the division to search for Kagari. "Depending on his actions, it could mean the end of the PSB for different reasons."

Makishima came to. The Chief greeted him, "It's been a while, Shogo. It's good to see you haven't changed a bit."

"I don't think we know each other." "Well, my appearance has changed quite a bit in the past three years, so...First, I need to offer you an apology. About the book I borrowed from you a while back...I lost it due to the troubles that I had to go through." Makishima took the book and was noticeably surprised. The person he lent that book to was Touma Kouzaburo.

Makishima asked the chief for confirmation. And the reply was

"When I heard that you fell into the hands of the PSB, I felt that it was terribly unfortunate. But...that face...plastic surgery...No, that's not it. Considering that body structure, you're a different person." "Your friend Senguji Toyohisa achieved whole-body cyberization, too, right? But artificial body technology that is this flawless hasn't been made open to the public."

"Nothing of the Touma Kouzaburo you know is left except his brain." "What's going on? The culprit of those grotesque serial killings that seriously upset society is now the head of the PSB? It's not even funny." "In a precise sense, that's not the case. I'm not the only Kasei Joshu, and I'm not always Kasei Joshu, either. Our brains are unitized so that they can be swapped easily. We always take turns using this body...Well...it also serves as a bit of a break from our everyday work. " "'We'?" "Yeah. I am only a rep. I was only entrusted with talking to you here since you and I are old friends. We've never shown ourselves to people, but when it comes to our name, we are famous in a manner of speaking. You should know it, too. People call us..."

As the two talked, a music played in the background. And I couldn't make out what it was.

Kogami and Tsunemori went to the basement of Nona Tower to look for Kagari. Kogami was certain that Kagari would not run off.

"Then, abduction...kidnapping..." "Or he was killed in a way that wouldn't leave any traces of his body. For example, using the Decomposer mode of the dominator or something." Kogami deduced. Tsunemori got a call from Ginoza and learned that a broken dominator was found. The fact that the dominator was located at least 20 km from the Nona Tower made Ginoza question the possibility of Kagari not being caught even once by the cameras.

Cut to the Chief and Makishima. Chief, "As for the incident this time, your aiming for the right target was just like you, to say the least. In fact, your friend was able to discover the truth." The Chief tossed Che's smart phone at Makishima. He saw the video and played it

"The Sibyl system is said to use a PDP model, an extensive network of supercomputers performing parallel distributed processing. It's not really a lie, but it's far from the truth. It's ability to utilize a knowledge base and to perform inferences were not achieved solely by speed gains in conventional computing. By parallelizing the system that was able to do those things and expanding it mechanically, it was just given massive processing ability, that's all. The fact is that a system that expands and speeds up its ability to think by incorporating human brain activity was already put into practical use more than fifty years ago. Precisely because we kept this technology secret and used it carefully, today our country is able to function as the only country on Earth ruled by law."

"By having about 200 of the 247 connected in sessions at any given time, we can continuously monitor and judge the Psycho-Pass of every single person in this country."

Makishima saw the moment Che died in the video and kept his gaze on the screen as the Chief continued her talk, "After all, the ability to judge using only mechanical programs is limited to stress measurements based on the Hue check at best. Specifying Crime Coefficients, which indicate a more profound human nature, requires a higher degree of thinking ability and judgment. "

"What a joke. Management of a fair society by machines...A society that doesn't depend on human egos...People accepted the Sibyl system because that's how it was presented. And yet, it was actually done arbitrarily by you, an aggregate of human brains?"

"No it is boundlessly fair. We judge and supervise people. We are already an existence that transcends mankind. This first qualification to be a constituent member to the Sibyl system is to have an irregular personality that doesn't fit in with mankind's conventional standards. Without aimlessly empathizing with others...without being lost to emotion...you should be able to oversee human actions from an outsider's viewpoint. Such talent is desired. For example, like the way you and I are." Makishima made an inquiry sound. "I too am a unique human whose Crime Coefficient can't be determined from his Psycho-Pass. Because of that, I've experienced a great deal of loneliness. A personality that cannot be measured even by Sibyl's collective intellect is called criminally asymptomatic. Those with this personality are distinguished from all citizens and have a new ideology and sense of values. By finding such valuable people and taking them in, the system has continued to expand its range of thinking and gained new possibilities as an intellectual form." And Makishima realized why Touma disappeared without being executed. "Yeah, I was added as a member of the Sibyl system. I was puzzled at first, but I was able to understand its splendor very quickly. Omnipotence achieved through the expansion of both understanding and judgment sharing one's cognition with other brains, I feel like I'm a prophet right out of a myth. I understand everything. I feel that everything in the world is under my rule. There's a limit to the amount of pleasure a person can obtain. But pleasure brought out by intellect is infinite. You can understand that, can't you?" "Yes. It's not really hard to imagine." "Both you and I have been isolated and oppressed in this world full of contradictions. But we don't need to grieve over it anymore. We should be proud of the nobility of the mission given to both of us as our fate. The time has also come for you to take your proper place!" "In other words...you're telling me to become a member of the Sibyl system?" "Your intellect and deep insight...those are qualities we eagerly seek out in order to further evolve the Sibyl system. It's not to say that we can't make you a member by force. But...'value exists only in the acts based on one's free will'...those were your words, right?"

Feeling fed up, Makishima shut his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he picked up the book and replied that he didn't find becoming a cog in a machine appealing. The Chief continued her persuasion. "Of course, this would not impede upon your independence as an individual. In fact, as you can see, I'm still maintaining a sense of my self as Touma Kouzaburo. All you have to do is say a single word, 'yes.' The operation will be completed on our way to the Ministry of Welfare using the equipment we have here. The Makishima Shogo known to the public will disappear with your body, but you will become one of those who rule this world with no one being the wiser."

"That sounds like the doctor in Balnibarbi," Makishima said as he got up. The chief was confused, and Makishima recounted the story of what that doctor do to get politicians with conflicting opinions to reconcile: carry out a surgery to transplant half of person A's brain to person B and vice versa. "Once that is done successfully, they could 'produce that moderation as well as regularity of thinking'. For the self-conceited lot who think that 'they come into the world only to watch and govern its motion', Swift writes that it is the most desirable approach. " Sensing that all the persuasion effort didn't pay off, the chief reached for the dominator hidden under the desk.

The moment Makishima saw the chief pointing a dominator at him, he threw the book in her face. Then he lifted an equipment and smashed it in her head, knocking her over before he proceeded to disarm her. "You probably thought I wouldn't resist until I knew where I was, but as usual, you aren't very careful."

"By saying that, you hinted that we're in transit. We're not inside the PSB, as I judged that I could escape." "Why? You should have been able to understand the joy of omnipotence and the pleasure of governing the world..." "Just like God?" Makishima went on, "That might be pleasurable in its own way, but unfortunately I'm not into being an umpire or a referee, as I can't genuinely enjoy the game if I were one." Makishima then sent the Chief flying.

She crawled, trying to grab the dominator. Makishima wouldn't allow it.

Makishima smashed an equipment onto the chief, who begged him to stop.

Makishima blew a hole on the plane and escaped.

Kogami got up from a nap, about to drink coffee when he felt Makishima appeared next to him.

Shocked, he leapt away. Panting, he looked at where he felt the presence of Makishima and saw no one. Then he received a call from Makashima.

"It's not something worth you putting your life on the line to protect. I just wanted to let you know that. Well then, I'll see you around." Kogami called Ginoza, and was told that the plane carrying Makishima reportedly crashed.

End of episode 17.

*The subtitle provided was "We can involuntarily try to avoid our responsibilities" However, the very sentence that Kogami spoke before this one still carried the hint that Kogami regarded himself an outsider to the society, and to the human race as a whole. It made no sense if he would go from seeing himself an outsider from one sentence to adopting an exact opposite attitude in the next. So I changed the translation of "自分の責任を回避する努力を無意識に行うことが出来る (Source of the transcription here)" a bit.

Comment 1) Things I noticed from the conversation between Kogami and Tsunemori. Kogami distanced himself from the society he observed, he didn't consider himself a member of the society he lived in; he considered himself an outsider. Tsunemori, on the other hand, regarded herself a member of that society.

2) The conversation between Makishima and the chief touched on multiple topics. And it took me quite a bit to figure out how to summarize it. Makishima and Touma were similar in the sense that they both saw themselves outsiders to the human race and, with their level of intelligence, they did not see other humans on equal footing. The difference between them, though, was that Touma still yearn for recognition and wanted to be worshipped. It would satisfy his vanity even if that came from people he thought were beneath him. And in the process of playing God, he actually came to care about the world. Makishima was not one who would take up the burden of becoming God for those who lived like livestock, those he considered humans in shape only, and their worship was worthless. He want to find meanings, and he wanted to be entertained by seeing others acting on their own free will, making their own decisions. Sibyl, being a system that took care of everything for everyone and made things effortless and meaningless for everyone, was precisely what Makishima wanted to destroy. The knowledge that Sibyl system was a congregation of human brains only made Makishima despise it even more.

#psycho pass

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bpellerin · 5 years

Text

The narcissist I know

Recently I picked a book on a recommendation found online. Unless it was in a magazine or podcast. Maybe, yes. I read and listen to a bunch of various sources, and when a book title piques my curiosity off I go to the library app to request it. The library being what it is (awesome because free but a bit on the slow side) by the time a book gets to me I’ve often forgotten why.

This one was no different, and as usual I started reading wondering what on earth I was thinking when I requested it.

That didn’t last. For the book, The Narcissist You know: Defending Yourself Against Extreme Narcissists in an All-About-Me Age by Joseph Burgo, was utterly fascinating from the get-go. Like a car crash on the other side of the highway that slows everyone down because we just can't take our eyes off it even though we know it's stupid and not just because it's liable to create another accident or three.

Burgo, a psychotherapist with 30 years of experience (and a crack writer), organizes his book by types of narcissists; the bullying narcissist, the narcissistic parent, the seductive narcissist, the grandiose narcissist, the know-it-all narcissist, the self-righteous narcissist, the vindictive narcissist, and the addicted narcissist.

That's a lot of navel-gazing, replete with titillating details of how utterly terrible and immoral the people he describes can be, and I'm not just talking about Michael Jackson. It's tempting to slam the book shut and yell something to the effect that what the hell, we're all doomed, why bother reading the fine print. This world is full of people who think only of themselves and about how they, and only they, ought to come out on top. Like Lance Armstrong or Tiger Woods except less successful at it.

But hey, celebrities. Can't stop reading about them. Burgo - did I mention he’s a crack writer? - uses their examples to describe narcissism in ways we cal all relate to. It's not an exhaustive list. There's Eliot Spitzer, but no Bill Clinton. Madonna yet no much Mick Jagger. The Kardashians are unaccountably left out. Isn't reality television a giant exercise in narcissism? It doesn't appear to have crossed Burgo's informed and keenly observant mind, so maybe I'm wrong about this. Add it to the pile of things I didn't know but learned reading this book; a pile that includes some pretty disturbing stuff about yours truly.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder is an actual diagnosis. Apparently if affects one percent of the population. It’s not the subject of the book. Too gruesome I guess.

We’re talking instead of "Extreme Narcissism", which isn't bad enough to warrant a place in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders (that's DSM to shrinks and people in the know; now you, too, are in the know, you're welcome) but bad enough to write an entire book about. These people account for five percent of the population. Then there's the rest of us. Sometimes full of ourselves, sometimes doubting ourselves, moving along the "narcissistic continuum" of awkward and awful possibilities.

The point of the book, Burgo helpfully tells us, is to learn to spot Extreme Narcissists in our environment, and what drives them to be the jackasses they are. "Once you recognize narcissistic behavior in others and how it affects your own psyche, you'll be able to avoid inciting its most noxious expressions." He adds that "At heart, Extreme Narcissists fear that they are frauds, that they will be exposed as small, ugly, defective, or without value. They constantly strive to come across as 'winners' because they fear that they are actually 'losers' instead." OK, so far so useful. But then this: "I hope you'll also learn something about yourself in the process - how your defensive reactions make you an occasional narcissist."

Say what? You can be casual about this? Dear me. Now I'm in trouble.

OK, look. I know I don't have a problem with narcissism, no more than the average insecure writer, I mean. We all have our moments, don't we. But... could I have real issues? There's only one way to find out.

I knew I was going to get antsy the minute I read that part about the fear of being a loser. That's how I actually spell my name, did you know? I've been living with a giant case of impostor syndrome all my life, and it's only in very recent years that I've started getting a handle on that sucker. A partial handle. We’re talking work in progress here. As in: a lot of work for not much progress.

The fear of being a fraud, the shame you feel when you believe you should be better than you are? The crushing lack of confidence in your own abilities, which you quickly masquerade under a thick coat of metaphysical concealer that everyone sees through anyway? Yep. Got that in droves.

Which makes me now wonder about Millenials and how they were raised to believe in themselves almost above every other value - I exaggerate, no doubt, but then I'm a GenXer and that's what we do, piss on Millenials unless we're busy trying to strangle Baby Boomers - isn't translating into fewer young adults with narcissistic issues? Hmmmm.

I trepidated my way through the first chapter. Then the second... and then I was looking at that car crash, unable to peel myself away and not just because the crash involved my own mangled carcass.

Here are personality traits I found in the book, describing various forms of narcissism, that painfully apply to me.

"As a parent, he was perfectionistic and demanding but only intermittently focused on his children's activities."

OK, so it's not so much that I wasn't focused on the kids' stuff. But have I been perfectionistic and demanding with my offspring? To a fault, yes. Has it made my kids behave better than their peers? Probably - they may not always show their manners, but I do know they have them in there somewhere. Has it made my kids happier? I doubt it. Has it made me happier? Nope. Did I do it anyway? Yep. Shame: 1, Brigitte: 0.

"Jason went on at some length about his wife's critical, perfectionistic nature and her tendency to engage in character assassination during their arguments. As I listened, it struck me as one of those marital fights that actually concern something else, an emotional issue at work behind the scene."

Oooooh, boy. Here we go. I am no longer married, but during the 17 years I was there were a lot of fights. Nasty things, too. And by nasty I mostly mean me. Endless quarrels that descended quickly into a meticulous evisceration of his entire family tree, criticizing everyone and everything. Including myself, yes. I have my faults but I'm not completely delusional - I could see, even back then, that many of our marital difficulties originated with me. Mostly because I knew I was in the wrong place and with the wrong person, and pretty miserable because of it. Most of the viciousness I displayed in those arguments (and to be fair, I was very good at being vicious) could be blamed on the fact that I didn't dare admit to myself that I needed out of that marriage.

”It should come as no surprise that many Extreme Narcissists are highly competitive in virtually every area of their lives, whether in athletics, the business world, or the social milieu they inhabit. They need to win at sports, destroy the competition in their given field, or feel that they are wealthier, more popular, better looking, or more admired than other people - that is, the social 'winners' in their world. Whatever the domain, victory in competition supports their inflated sense of self: they are the winners who prove themselves superior to the losers they defeat. And they need to go on proving it, again and again."

Well, shit, said the karate world champion. You want hypercompetitive type A? I'll give you the best goddamn hypercompetitive type A in the whole freaking world and make it look easy. Because it's a challenge. And I must not just win it, but destroy the necessity of having that challenge in the first place. Ahem. Yes. Did I mention my Impostor Syndrome and what role it plays in making me thoroughly addicted to smashing every record that pops up in front of me? Yeah. Well. I guess I win that one, too. Except (like most of the other stuff I've "won" over the decades), it doesn't seem to make me feel that much better about myself. Why is that, I wonder?

"In middle school and later as an adult, the Bullying Narcissist often creates his very own 'team' - at the workplace, within his family or social set - enlisting others in a joint effort to defeat and humiliate his target. While the typical middle school victim is usually a loner or marked by unfavorable difference, someone already lacking in social capital, adult targets are often highly successful."

Well, I guess I'm not textbook Bullying Narcissist because I don't tend to work in teams for anything. But... one thing I do is notice who's on who's team. And if they're on a team that goes against my interests, they're against me and I enforce my own laws by shutting out people whom I believe are rooting for the wrong cause. And I never forget whose side they were on. So maybe I'm a passive bullying kind of narcissist. Or maybe I'm just a very strong Scorpio? I hear loyalty is a big deal to us...

"... the Seductive Narcissist appeals to our own narcissism in order to get what he wants from us. The bargain is implicit, unspoken: I will make you feel that you're an exceptionally fascinating person, eminently desirable, if you agree to feel the same way about me."

This seems to describe Bill Clinton. And that jerk who took me for a ride. There are people who make you feel like you’re unbelievably awesome, and you should listen to the part where it says unbelievably. It’s not about you, it’s about them. Oh, and did I mention I may have used this technique a bit in my day as a political journalist? It worked pretty well, too. It got people talking to me. I confess I didn’t feel bad about it at the time, any more than I do now. Politics is a game and we all play it to the best of our abilities. Plus most politicians are narcissists so I guess that's fair.

"Many Seductive Narcissists fall head over heels in love with someone they perceive to be an ideal mate, a partner to complement their idealized self-image, and then fall out of love once the imperfections begin to show."

Yeah, a bit. Especially when I was younger. (I am thankfully less stupid nowadays.) But the temptation is still there. Not necessarily in the till-death-do-is-part sense of the word. But let’s just say I have enthusiasms that swing widely. Perhaps you do, too. Sometimes we fall in love with an artist only to be crushed when they invariably one day do something that disappoints us cruelly and then we hate them. Maybe that means we never loved that artist for who they were, but rather because of what they told us about ourselves. Not that we’re self-obsessed or anything.

"Toward those people who don't hold much psychological value, Seductive Narcissists may consistently come across as self-confident, even arrogant and superior. Toward those people they depend heavily upon to maintain their sense of self, they can seem surprisingly insecure. They may struggle with persistent doubts about their own worth, wanting constantly to hear that they are loved."

It’s interesting, this need for love. Certainly I’ve felt it all my life, almost cripplingly so. It’s responsible for a ton of mistakes I’ve made, including a few dangerous and expensive ones. I always thought my insecurities were the direct result of my crappy childhood, where love wasn’t much of a thing. But maybe it’s deeper than that. Certainly I find myself sounding less arrogant now that I finally managed to bungle my way into a solid, healthy and loving relationship in which I feel valued for who I am. Maybe we ought to prescribe that. Wouldn't it be a hoot, being a pharmacist handing out Prince Charmings for the good of mankind? **

There are more painful quotes, but that should do for now. In the end, what reading the book taught me was that we are all narcissists to some degree, and some of us have a more pronounced problem with it than others. I count myself in the second group but my ambition is to move over into the first one by being less of a jackass, less insecure, and more loving.

** Yes, it’s a joke. No, Prince Charmings don’t exist and even if they did you shouldn’t just sit there and hope for one. Try to be charming yourself and see what happens instead.

#narcissism #analysis #character #shame

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