#which is a decision he attributes to both circumstances beyond his control and his feelings by calling it both ‘fate’ and his ‘wish’

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #50

[whatifxwereyou]

Firestorm Part 7: Tipping Point

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

You train with Kung Lao. This might be the final straw.

A/N: Next chapter is from Liu Kang's point of view. Also there will be a hilarious shopping chapter with Kung Lao and Chen at a reader's request. Hope everyone is doing well <3 Don't worry, there will be more fluff soon too.

Start From the Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The rain had dried up while you were eating and conversation had quickly become less awkward. You had managed to separate what had happened with Liu Kang from your friendship with Kung Lao mentally. You cared about them so much. Somewhere along the line you’d decided that your friendship with them was the most important thing to have. No matter who you chose, you wanted to maintain those friendships.

Though you were pretty sure of what your heart wanted at this point. You’d been sure of it for some time. Since that night in the rain when Liu had wrapped his arms around you, as a matter of fact. It had felt like home. Nothing had ever felt like that before. You knew that no matter what happened next, things would be okay between you.

You also knew that what was happening to you was extraordinarily complicated and dangerous. That was your biggest hang up through all of this. When it came down to it, that was the true dilemma. Because whatever happened with Kung Lao and Liu Kang? That was something you could fix, something you could work on. You were all just people making human decisions. This thing with your arcana, however? That was beyond your control.

You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t want to hurt anyone. You would gladly lock yourself away if it meant keeping everyone safe.

Things between you and Lao relaxed once you’d mentally coached yourself on the reality of the situation. You felt sobered by your own thoughts. It was something that you attributed to Liu Kang. Perhaps it was because of how frequently he’d helped you find your calm or maybe it was just that his calming presence had rubbed off on you.

This would pass.

All things did.

Kung Lao had agreed, with very little convincing, to go with you tomorrow to the nearest city to get your ‘lady things’. He’d hated you using that term which was precisely why you’d used it. It would keep him from asking questions. He’d asked you about lady problems the other day with disdain so you figured it would be the best excuse. Then after breakfast you made your way to the fight pit.

“We’ll start with your shoulder. But afterwards we’re working on your arcana.”

“Why? Because the shoulder thing is boring?”

“Yes, obviously.” Kung Lao teased. He seemed relieved that you had shaken your weird mood. You were relieved too. That brief moment of panic had threatened to send you into a spiral. But it had passed and you were rather proud of yourself for it. “And because you’ve been avoiding it.”

“I know, I know. I psyched myself out for a bit there. No more avoiding it. I promise.” You’d changed into a gi to prepare for training. You would do your best to try and keep from overdoing it but if Kung Lao could help you get a hold of your arcana than it would be worth the strain. He was watching you skeptically as he kicked up sand in the fight pit. “I mean it. I want to get back to where I was before this. At least. I want to be able to give you and Liu a run for your money again.”

“It’s nice to hear you sounding more like yourself.” Kung Lao turned away from you but you could see the smile on his face before he did. It was like he wanted to hide it. Why? It didn’t much matter.

After that you spent some time working on your shoulder. He really did have a few exercises to help stretch the muscles and strengthen them. It’d hurt but it had been worth it. He also taught you a few strategies to avoid putting strain on it in combat when you needed to. It was nice that your styles of Kung Fu weren’t too terribly different. Kung Lao understood which stances would put strain where and you picked up the modifications easily. For the first time in a long time you felt competent and strong.

Even with your shoulder the way that it was after the incident with Raiden you had managed to find your footing. And you understood your limits. You moved with confidence. Kung Lao went easy on you after that even if he denied it when you confronted him for doing it. You imagined that it had been traumatizing for him to watch his childhood friend struggle for weeks on end. you considered that you both needed therapy.

“Now your arcana.” He dusted his hands off and then wiped them on his pants. With that familiar tug of the strap beneath his chin, he removed his hat and sliced with it through the air before crouching low and back into his stance.

“Was that necessary or… were you just showing off?”

“I’m going to show you how I use mine.” He flipped the hat in his grasp and then slipped it back on his head with a polite bow afterward.

“So, showing off. Got it.” You muttered but caught the smirk on his face.

“Arcana has an energy all its own. With time you learn to recognize it.” Kung Lao tossed the hat into the air and it spun around the perimeter of the arena, twisting through the air. He didn’t so much as look at it, it just did as he commanded it to. Kung Lao walked toward you and without looking, he reached out and the hat flew into his hand. He placed it again atop his head. “It’s a part of you. You have to treat it like it is. Another limb if you will.”

“I’m fairly confident that you’re just showing off.” You smiled. He chuckled beneath his breath then tossed his hat again. It flew behind you and with a twist, he disappeared into the ground in a white light and then reappeared behind you, hat landing perfectly atop his head. Then, arms folded behind his back, he leaned over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Now I’m showing off.” He clicked his tongue and then walked in front of you. “But I’m also making a point. I’ve been using my arcana far longer than you have. To me it’s second nature. We need it to be that way for you too. Sometimes that means getting in control of part of you that seems beyond it.”

“…kind of like when learning martial arts.”

“Exactly. Learning how to use parts of you as a weapon or a shield. Your arcana is no different except that without the dragon marking, you wouldn’t have it.”

“It’s like those exercises you made me do early on, right? It’s about control.” You had understood that to an extent but putting it into terms you understood, like martial arts, had helped considerably. You hadn’t felt in control of much of anything for a long time. In fact, the last few times you’d even tried to use your arcana it was as though the control had been ripped away from you. If you could become more in tune with your arcana then maybe when whoever it was that was manipulating you with this curse nonsense showed up again, they wouldn’t be able to use you as easily.

“I don’t think the sorts of exercises that Liu used are going to be helpful for what you do. Your arcana is different. His was dangerous at first too, just in a different way. I think that most arcana, by nature, will be dangerous.” Kung Lao smiled fondly, as though the idea delighted him. “My hat was obviously dangerous too. It’s not like zapping around like I do is exactly safe. Or easy.”

“The implications of that are awful, Lao.”

“All I’m saying is that there’s a learning curve to everything. Even for warriors like me and Liu.”

“Is this your way of trying to make me feel better about my arcana? You know that you can just be encouraging. That works just fine.”

“What I’m trying to say is that this is difficult in the beginning for everyone. You get the hang of it, like anything else. Your circumstances are definitely abnormal Y/N, but not that much so. I know that the past few weeks have been difficult for you.”

“Kung Lao, you don’t need to reassure me. I’m okay. Really.”

“No, I do, Y/N.” Kung Lao frowned, brow furrowed with compassion, with worry. Who were you to argue with him? “I can be hard on you but only because I know what you’re capable of. But the truth is that we understand this isn’t easy for you. Even just having the mark and learning to control your arcana is a difficult task. But these circumstances have made it that much more complicated. You’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N. It’s why Liu and I are so understanding. We’ve been there before.”

“I appreciate that, Kung Lao, really…”

“Raiden understands too. I know he can come off as harsh but I don’t want you to think that he…”

“No, okay, stop.” You laughed and took a step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. He bowed his head apologetically. Serious Kung Lao made you uncomfortable. It was just such a rare thing. What had brought this on? You struggled to picture him having moments of self-reflection but you supposed that he must have. Not enough to tell you about the best that he’d made with Liu, but still. “Do you think that this has me upset? Unhappy?”

“Um… yes.”

“There are parts of it that I struggle with, of course. This curse thing sucks. The inability to get back on my feet sucks. Feeling like a ticking time bomb? Not in love with it. But overall? I’m grateful to be here.”

“Even after Raiden…” He mimicked the action of shocking you and you laughed, then patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“He did what was necessary. I’m not holding it against him. And I’m grateful to have come to Raiden’s Temple, Kung Lao. Yes, it was kind of traumatizing and is a little scary but also… I got my best friend back. I never thought in a million years there was even a chance of that. I know that things are different for us now but I’m also so grateful that it was you that found me that day. Grateful that it was you that came into my shop all those times. Whatever brought you back there, Lao, I’m just so damn grateful. And I’m grateful to have met Liu Kang. He’s a wonderful friend. I’m even grateful for the crazy gossipy monks down in the infirmary. And grateful for Raiden. He’s kind of fatherly, isn’t he? In a weird way?”

“He can be. And he seems fond of you. He isn’t usually so nice.” Kung Lao smirked but you could see the relief behind his eyes. Apparently, he’d been the one who had really needed reassuring. You were happy to provide it.

“Well, it’s hard to be mean to someone you almost killed.” You joked and Kung Lao laughed. “We got super off topic here. We need to focus.”

“Yes, that’s what we were talking about. Focus. And control.”

“We are terrible at this.”

“We need to decide what works for you.” Kung Lao took a step back. “Can you summon your arcana for me? Your sword, perhaps?”

“Sure.” You stepped back and focused. He was right. There was energy around you and it wasn’t the first time you’d felt it and recognized it as your arcana. It was about focus and control. You could do that. In fact, you had excelled at both of those things. Being a teacher, you’d needed to be focused and controlled. You could do this. Especially today.

You had plenty of focus and control.

Without so much as a wave of your hand, you summoned your jian in a swell of ink. It dripped down your hand and formed the hilt and then the blade. It didn’t drain you and you smiled. It felt natural to do, like the sword was an extension of you. You flipped the hilt in your palm and then back again. Then you dropped into your stance and used your other hand to beckon Kung Lao to come at you for a fight. But he didn’t. Instead he clapped in a slow and unimpressed way.

“Now do more.”

“Excuse you? You said to summon my sword. I did that.”

“I want you to try and recreate me again.” He looked rather excited about that and your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know how I did that, Kung Lao. I needed help and you weren’t there and I was worried that you’d been hurt too badly and then suddenly… ink you to the rescue.”

“I was your hero then, huh?”

“Don’t read into it, Lao.”

“You were worried about me too? Wow, a lot to unpack here, Y/N.” Kung Lao was trying not to look terribly smug and doing a terrible job at it.

“I mean, you are human, Kung Lao! Being thrown through a door and then a wall and then a door… that takes a toll on a man, I would imagine.”

“I’m still pretty bruised up, honestly.”

“I would imagine.”

“Well, I want you to try that again but without being in peril. You can’t rely on something like that in a panic. You need to be able to control it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I have a few ideas I can try. I don’t know if they’ll work but I’ll try.”

“When we’re finished, if you’re still worried about me then I’ll happily let you check me out.” He grinned and walked further away from you. You flushed but held your tongue. He was baiting you. Kung Lao enjoyed bickering with you. You knew that already and now wasn’t the time to give in. You were so terrible at staying on topic today. You had to focus! You were feeling so good about your strength and your arcana. You wanted to take advantage of that. Besides, flirting with Kung Lao was on a list of things that were difficult to deal with.

You focused on the ink, remembering how it had coated your fingertips in direr moments. You willed it to do just that and were pleased when it obeyed. It spread up to your shoulders. Your arms and fingers were stained black. Then you used your index finger to draw another sword and it materialized with your will. Slow, bored applause from Kung Lao again. It was like a pen. That was your true weapon, you’d decided. That gave you another idea.

What about words? Would words have power? You spelled the first thing that came to mind.

Fire.

Just like that, the word floated before you and then burst into flame. Kung Lao laughed, eyes wide with delight.

“What? No! Do it again.”

“Uh, okay…” You laughed and spelled ‘hat’, visualizing Kung Lao’s hat as you did. It materialized and clattered to the ground. Kung Lao made his way back to you and picked up the hat. It stained his fingertips, but he was able to toss it. It splattered against the wall but the ink didn’t stain the stone. Instead it decayed into a frail gray substance, like ash, before disappearing on the wind.

“You could create anything with that.” Kung Lao seemed to mentally be rattling through the possibilities. You were sure that it had limitations. Even as you considered what to make next, you could feel that it had drained you. Maybe that was your limitation. The ink would exhaust you before you created anything too catastrophic. That was a fair trade off. You could find a way to manage the weariness that went with your arcana.

He wanted to see that drawing of him again.

So you wrote his name and you could feel the excitement radiating off of him.

Kung Lao.

He stepped into his stance, face blocked out by his hat and ready for a fight. You focused your energy into his name and then the words spread out into a dome and created his hat. From the hat came the image of Kung Lao in a great leap. You gasped and covered your mouth. The ink was shaky so you focused harder.

The drawing of Kung Lao ducked into the same stance as Kung Lao. Then you had the drawing rush at him and feint left before attacking. Kung Lao blocked the attack and you maneuvered the ink duplicate, trying to remember the way that your father fought, the way that you knew Kung Lao fought. But the ink duplicate moved on instinct. You didn’t have to control it like it had strings. It had your knowledge of him.

That was until it stopped attacking Kung Lao and turned toward you. You willed it to turn back around but it didn’t obey you. What the hell? It approached you aggressively, using its hat as a blade with a spin.

“Whoa, hey, what gives, Y/N?” Kung Lao walked around the image of himself but then ducked out of the way as it sliced toward him. “Hey! Cut it out!”

“I’m not doing it!” You stepped back nervously as the drawing continued toward you. You stumbled in the sand and sunk your feet to get your balance but instead, you dropped through the ground into darkness.

You knew that hadn’t really happened. This was a feeling you recognized now.

You were having a vision.

Well, this was terrible timing.

You stood in a frozen wasteland. Everything around you was coated in a thick layer of ice. It looked like it had been a warehouse once. But then you caught sight of training equipment. A gym. You’d seen big gyms like this in the city but you had no idea where it was. Everything was so coated in ice that you couldn’t make out any of the signs. You were freezing.

In the distance, there was the sound of combat but it was muted, like you had cotton in your ears. You tried to get closer to the sound but had no real control over anything. Whatever this vision wanted to show you, it would show you whether you liked it or not. It was like you were on rails. It was cruel. To have felt like you had regained so much control only to have it stripped away from you. It was like something was playing an awful game with you where you always lost.

You refused to let it crush you.

Whatever your ink was doing outside of your vision you had faith that Kung Lao could handle it.

Two men fought, both masked and unnatural. This was beyond your understanding. One man was made of fire and the other was made of ice, holding a blade of the same ice. They were armored. They fought so quickly that you could barely make out what they were doing. Their movements were blurred in streams of ink. The fiery warrior sliced with a blade but the man made of ice blocked every blow. He then twisted the fiery man and threw him into a wall of ice that shattered. You ducked out of fear of the ice but again, you had no body, really. You weren’t actually there.

Their fluid fighting was a terrifying dance. They were both so threatening. These two men, whoever they were, were the most skilled martial artists that you had ever seen. There was a crashing sound behind you but when you turned to find the source, the world melted into a haze. You didn’t know what anything meant anymore. Sometimes the visions were so vague and blurry that they were barely visions at all. Maybe that thing in your head didn’t want you to see this particular vision.

When you opened your eyes again, you were staring into darkness. You could move again and you were awake but where were you? It was so damn dark. There was sand beneath where you laid. You were still in the fight pit! Distantly, you could hear Kung Lao fighting but there was a spinning wall of darkness between you and him. What the hell?

There was a vortex of ink swirling all around you, thick and slow moving. It muted all other sounds with a roar. Your heart was pounding out of your chest but you focused like Kung Lao had taught you. But no matter how you focused, the ink didn’t budge. You had no control over any of it even if you could feel that it was your arcana. It drained you just existing.

You touched the vortex in hopes that you could run through it to the other side but it sliced at your fingertips as though the vortex was made of ink needles. Was it protecting you? And if so, from what?

“Kung Lao!” You shouted but you couldn’t hear anything but the muted chaos of combat beyond. What had you done? What had you summoned? “Kung Lao!” You screamed to him but there was nothing. He probably couldn’t hear you.

Okay. Deep breaths.

You focused on your arcana. It spread up your hands and over your arms. You would draw a way out if you had to! As you made to draw a door, the ink was swept away from your arms and the tornado consumed it and roared threateningly, as if you had fed it. Maybe it wasn’t protecting you. Maybe it was imprisoning you. Your heart was slamming with panic in your chest. This couldn’t be happening! It couldn’t! You had to get this under control.

But you were panicking.

Maybe you were better off without the mark. Maybe you should be locked away so you couldn’t put anyone else in danger!

Then there was a horrible, loud ringing in your head.

You held your hands over your ears to try and escape it but it was in your head so there was no escape. It was so loud that it was making you feel sick. Your legs wobbled so you shrunk down into a crouch and tried to breathe through the painful sound. It reminded you of the dolorous ringing of the bell. The bell that had cracked along with your shoulder. That was it. It was the bell. Your shoulder was aching so much so that you could have collapsed. But you refused to fall.

This wouldn’t take you again.

It wouldn’t hurt you again!

“Who are you?” You yelled in frustration. Because that was what was happening. There was someone else there, something else there, that horrible demonic thing was destroying you, using you. “Who is doing this? Face me, coward!” You taunted in hopes of drawing it out. You didn’t think it would work but the ringing stopped. You managed to stand up but your legs were trembling beneath you. “Who’s doing this?” You shouted again but suddenly you weren’t alone. You expected the demon to walk right out of the ink.

But it wasn’t the demon.

Instead the icy warrior from your vision stepped out of the ink of the vortex, made of the same ink that formed it. He was dripping with it but you could see the details of his outfit his armor, his mask imprinted in the ink. The air became frigid within the vortex. You knew now that he had been the one that had coated that whole gym in ice. How powerful was he that he could do that? And who was he?

Panic shot through you but you stepped back, careful not to back into the vortex. How? How did whoever was manipulating you have such a hold on you? What kind of curse could do this? Who had this kind of power? It was too dangerous for you to have arcana. Too dangerous for you to be in Raiden’s Temple. Too dangerous for you to have the mark. You were dangerous.

You summoned your sword. The vortex tried to consume the ink, as if hungry, but you refused to allow it. It took nearly all your strength and the aching in your shoulder spread into your chest but you refused to give in. You yelled in frustration and charged at the man who stood threateningly before you. He summoned a blade of shadow and ice and stabbed toward you with a graceful twist. You blocked but barely. His icy blade left shards of ice on your sword and it spread toward your hand. You tried to shake it off but the jian shattered and you let go of the hilt. The vortex devoured the remains of your sword.

You summoned another but the panic was making you shake.

You had to stop it. Something had to stop it.

If you had to then you would do something drastic. You wouldn’t let your arcana destroy everything.

[cto10121]

Does R&J Play With Gender Stereotypes?

So I came across this piece of meta by @hamliet that rather intrigued me:

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

Let’s break this down.

“the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine.”

Romeo does indeed call Juliet the sun, but Juliet never calls Romeo the moon—or likens him with anything symbolically feminine, come to think of it. The closest she or the play gets is a small but clear association with night: Romeo has “night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes” and Juliet implores “loving, black-browed” night to give her her Romeo. Even then it is so that he can “make the face of heaven so fine / That all the world will be in love with night / And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Instead, Juliet consistently uses the same love language of authority as Romeo does with her, calling him her lord, husband, knight, “day-in-night,” “mansion of a love,” “god of my idolatry,” and, (my particular favorite), “tassel-gentle” or “falcon.” “Pilgrim” is the lowest social rank she uses, but of course she is following Romeo’s pilgrim-and-saints flirtation and its wink-wink bilingual allusion to his name. Romeo’s use of “sun,” then, could be viewed in the context of both lovers conferring cosmic/earthly authority, beauty, ownership, and sovereignty to each other—the Elizabethan equivalent of calling each other wife/husband. And of course they begin doing that immediately after they marry.

Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one.

Definitely not. Romeo is plenty decisive and bold—making the first move in wooing Juliet, climbing the orchard wall, showing himself to Juliet, immediately agreeing to marry her, nearly killing himself when he thinks Juliet might not take him back and, er, actually killing himself for her. I wouldn’t say he is impulsive, either—though he makes decisions fairly quickly, it is almost always with some deliberation beforehand (“Can I go forward when my heart is here?” “Shall I hear more or shall I speak at this?” and his monologue after Mercutio’s exit) and of course there are instances in which he restrains himself (“I am too bold” and his monologue after Mercutio’s death). The most accurate description of Romeo is that he is a risk taker—at least when he is well and truly motivated. And even then it does not rob his deliberation or even his wits.

He is also not flighty. In fact, he proves just as loyal as Juliet—as soon as he meets her, he forgets about Rosaline and leaves her clear behind. He doesn’t once waver in his conviction that Juliet is for him and makes plans to die with her (and does!). His love for Rosaline is clearly framed by the narrative as shallow, performative, and passive, and the verse bears this out. He was never in any kind of relationship with Rosaline—his love was an unrequited crush that he was at perfectly liberty to have ditched, frankly. After that, it’s Juliet, Juliet, Juliet until he dies.

Also, once more, Romeo is no crybaby. He explicitly cries a total of two times—one even before the events of the play, when he pines over Rosaline under a grove of sycamore, and another when he’s 1) seen Mercutio get mortally wounded, 2) killed Tybalt, 3) learned that he is banished from the city, and 4) mistakenly believed that Juliet no longer wants him (the Nurse’s reply is vague enough to be misinterpreted); at the very least he is devastated to have been the cause of her pain. Anyone would break down in those circumstances. Juliet herself breaks down on hearing the news and arguably is more verbally vehement than Romeo—namely, that even the words “Romeo is banishèd” are worse than if herself, Romeo, her parents, and Tybalt were dead. She ends that monologue with a passive suicide threat: “And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!” How anyone can argue Juliet isn’t as lovestruck as Romeo is beyond me.

What Shakespeare was most likely aiming for was showing the mutuality of R&J’s love with parallel scenes and even language. Both have chances to act strong, decisive, and bold, both show vulnerability and great emotion and passion, both are lovestruck. Both demonstrate so-called “masculine” and “feminine” traits, which is almost always culturally-and time-based, anyway. There are only a few key differences between the two—almost all of the above traits, however, they both share. It’s almost as if…Shakespeare understood that no man or woman had all masculine or all feminine traits.

Moving on to the conclusion:

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit).

You just opened up 200+ years of fandom wank, OP. I’ll just do a quick sum-up.

The Sonnets are a complete mess. They are contradictory as hell, there is clearly more than one persona speaking, there is evidence that Shakespeare edited and revised them, evidence they were published with his permission, quite a few sonnets are based on pre-existing sources, and, most damnably of all, none of the most likely candidates for the so-called Fair Youth and Dark Lady fit the narrative of the Sonnets perfectly or even satisfactorily—if there is even a clear narrative to these things to begin with. Sonnets were artificial works whose clichés and conventions were heavily satirized in Shakespeare’s own works—Berowne’s own rant-y sonnet swearing he would never believe in love sonnets comes most readily to mind. They were usually not meant to denote an actual real-life relationship, although there was a kind of “game” in trying to figure out which parts are true and which ones fiction. At least one sonnet sequence had a completely fictional addressee (Fulke Greville, I think).

Shakespeare’s sonnets do break a lot of these rules and conventions, and radically, and as they seem to have been compiled over many years, they lend themselves to autobiographical speculation. But, as a bit of a poet myself, I feel this: No one writes 154 sonnets—plus a whole narrative poem!—to one lover or even multiple lovers. Poetry is much less personal than laypeople think. Outside the sonnets, Shakespeare is not linked to any man romantically, and, besides his wife, only to two women (unnamed citizen’s wife and Jane Devanant).

Even if we assume Shakespeare’s bi, though, that doesn’t mean R&J is a queer narrative, which brings us to…

It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society.

A queer narrative that has its lovers express their love through the language of heterosexual marriage (husband, lord, wife, lady, pilgrim/saint), and commit suicide by a chalice-and-blade symbolism that mimics heterosexual sex (Romeo drinking a “cup” of poison and Juliet stabbing herself with Romeo’s dagger. Freud couldn’t have done it better). If Shakespeare was thinking “gay allegory!!!” he would have had to at least change or erase the symbolism (straight coding?) of the double suicide, or have Juliet attribute to Romeo explicitly feminine imagery. He would have to have done some major plot rejiggering. He would have had to, in short, change the whole story.

(Unless by “queer narrative” you mean “anything that has an emotionally constipated male lead who doesn’t growl sexily and a female lead who doesn’t cry/faint at the drop of a hat.” That’d be most every narrative, lol.)

Also, I’m hard-pressed to think of love romances that are 100% patriarchal narratives, and those that do (Casablanca, maybe?) are not really true ones, anyway. Patriarchy inherently opposes all romances of love and sex, including heterosexual. It demands that men be raised as soldiers to kill enemies, slaughtered, and discarded, and women as chattel and land to be bought and sold. Marriage was that transferral of property. Having children is necessary, not out of love and care for them, but to propagate the species and create even more future warriors and womb incubators. It grudgingly accepts only (mostly straight and like maybe 1 or 2 gay) love narratives that can be subsumed into this narrow paradigm, but the tension of interpretation is always present. Ideally, it prefers to ignore, diminish, scorn and mock, or even suppress them. I suspect most people’s problems and discomfort with R&J stem from this pathology, this deep-seated unease over anything that touches on human experience patriarchy can’t quite control or subsume.

Shakespeare was obviously no lover of patriarchy (in his personal life, though…well, it’s debatable). His plays resist it greatly to various degrees, and R&J is no exception. R&J hews much closer to the reality of heterosexual love and love in general, which are informed by, though are not inherently tied to, patriarchy (as are gay relationships, sadly). Shakespeare is just being a good writer in throwing most of that rotten apple away; it doesn’t apply to what he was trying to do, anyway. R&J’s challenge to patriarchy, though, is heterosexual in nature.

And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

True dat.

[pplydm]

ePUB #32

Title: The Big Finish Author: Brooke Fossey

Commenced May 5 2020, Completed May 9 2020

My previous read employs an elderly nursing home as its setting and includes a 90 year old lead character; here I am again with conditions alike. I surmise this came across my good reads recommendations. I immediately looked for a copy as it was initially stated to be published January 2020. It wasn’t ultimately published until April 2020. From the start, a number of banters and witty one-liners made me chuckle all from a hilarious Duffy, the leading character. Overcoming alcoholism was an issue addressed in this read. I’d remark on the drastic nutty decisions tender Carl and stubborn Duffy were doing and feeling in this but reconsidered their ages. Hoped for a triumphant and blithe ending since I found myself wondering how Josie would get out of abuse and be able to fend and sustain herself. Would the budding romance of Josie and Anderson work out? 

I honestly had great expectations for this for I liked its premise. Also anticipated life lessons from this. The scene where they were on Sanger meeting Bates, made me realize the meaningful friendship of both Carl and Duffy who I’d mention to always got Carl’s back. The superb part was when Duffy literally reached his life ending by a sudden attack, he confirmed that God is alive and real. Comprehended now why it’s titled “The Big Finish”.  

Goodies of wisdom listed below:

“You sleep good, Mr. Sinclair,” said her disembodied voice. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

That stuff kills you, body and mind, and there are better ways to die.

“Things don’t go rotten unless they’re good first. Otherwise, how would you know the difference?”

“Whatever it is you’re mourning from back when, don’t. It brought you here, now, to do what you’re doing, and what you’re doing is honorable and right.”

But you had to look the loss in the eye, and if you were going to survive it, you had to believe that there were two different parts of every person: the stuff that ended up in the ground and the stuff that didn’t.

The following were my character analysis.

1. Anderson’s dedication for his job at the nursing home makes him a nice guy. 

2. Duffy sees his past life, together with his vices on the young Josie but in an opposite gender.  If I could talk to Duffy, I’d tell not to worry of his past because he need not to please others. Duffy pridefully confessed and displayed immaturity and I find that too humorous. I however approve Duffy’s manner of dealing with Josie’s major issues however not at first. It was all straightforward and encouraged being wary and courageous enough to face all of the truths in one’s life, even those which hurt.     

3. I reckon Josie wanted to stay the weeknights in the Centennial because her abuser looks for her in the nighttime. Josie’s a mess and no nice people should make of fuss of her. Arduous Josie’s putting other peoples lives on the line. Really tried to understand her and the concept of helping her go free from addiction using a geriatric’s guidance. Josie Isn’t special but Duffy and Anderson is all over her and I’m not liking that; she’s a drunk! I would like to blame Josie for everything bad happening but then there’s Carl, her grandfather. I am shifting the blame to him. 

  Book Discussion Questions

1. Though Duffy and Carl are very different men, they’ve managed to form an inseparable bond. Do you think their friendship is merely a result of necessity and proximity, or do you think that under different circumstances, they would’ve found kinship in each other? What about the other friendships in the book?

- by what I’ve read it did seem they would’ve found kinship in each other as if like bothers by blood. The other friendships definitely developed due to necessity and proximity.

2. How is fatherhood defined throughout the story? How does the absence or presence of fathers impact different characters’ lives? Though all are flawed, which father from the book would you most likely to have, and why?

- fatherhood in the book is defined as a responsibility and a heart felt duty. When one is fatherless, it may be a disadvantage in pursuing the future knowing no one will guide with matters as to being courageous. Duffy is my preferred father from the book because of the way he handled with Josie’s addiction and that he never gave up on her.

3. Consider Centennial’s daily schedule. If you had to pick one day to live as a resident, which would you choose? If you had to room with one resident, who would it be?

- I pick the August 30 Centennial schedule. I would like to room with Alice.

4. Josie‘s journey to sobriety is unfinished at the books close. How to tumultuous do you expect her recovery to be? Do you think Anderson will play a lasting part in it? Do you want him to?

- I don’t think it will be difficult, she already made a few steps and evidently more to go but she could control her vice now. I believe Anderson will play a part in it I don’t know if it’ll be lasting though and yes I want him to be in on it.

5. God’s existence is a reoccurring question that Duffy and Josie both ask. What are the pivotal moments that lead Duffy to form his ultimate conclusion? When imagining Josie’s life beyond these pages, do you think her formative week with Duffy will lead her to have a similar or opposite belief?

- I think it was the serenity prayer before he died and him remembering the dearest people in his life while dying. I personally think Josie wouldn’t be as unconvinced us Duffy because she already had advantage with Duffy assisting her becoming sober.

6. We see how age underlines the experiences and interactions of the characters. Discuss the author’s varying portrayals of society’s treatment of the elderly. Which character do you think most accurately reflects today’s culture? Which character do you think society with aspire to be?

- In this book, the owner of the nursing home is treating her clients like a money pit. Some of the nurses on duty misinterpret the feelings of the elderly in this book, also. They probably assume the old age experience is the same for every old person they tend to. The book accurately reflects today’s culture the way they treat client, Charles. Society should aspire to be like Alice when they get old while being remorseful like Carl for his deeds in the past.

7. Do the characters meet your expectations of how they should think and act, considering their age? Has Duffy, or any of the characters change your perspective about people older or younger than you? If so, how?

- I think most of the characters met my expectations considering their age. Carl changed my perspective about older people, despite the wisdom from older people’s years, they turn too immature and choose shallow judgments.

8. When Duffy speaks about the staff’s apathy toward the antique pocket pistol in his dresser, he states, “People seem to believe its age devalued its purpose.” Discuss the gun’s role in the story as an allegory. Consider its lifespan, from the time it was forged to when it fired it’s final bullet.

- I presume Duffy was comparing the gun to him being an old person. A person who once was strong and brave, alike a gun remains that attribute though aged.

9. If Duffy had more time with Alice, do you think he would’ve had a chance with her? How do you feel about Alice holding on to her husband be on the vow “until death do us part”? In your mind, is there an age limit to romantic love?

- Definitely, Duffy would’ve had a chance. Alice, at her age, had opportunity and should have jumped on it. There is no age limit to a romantic love as long as it’s not adultery.

10. Alice tells Duffy, “Whatever it is you’re mourning from back when, don’t. It brought you here, now, to do what you’re doing, and what you’re doing is honorable and right.” Do you agree with her positive outlook when it comes to playing life’s long game? What other story lines validate her philosophy?

- I highlighted the excerpt and I truly agree. However, at one’s youth, one should totally pick the right decision to avoid terminal regrets. Storyline of Carl is another example.

11. In time, Duffy becomes certain that in order to survive the loss of a loved one, you have to believe that there are two different parts of a person: the stuff that ends up in the ground, and the stuff that doesn’t. Do you agree with Duffy? If not, how does your own belief of the afterlife shape your handling of such a loss?

- I concur with Duffy. I highlighted that excerpt too.

12. What does the title mean to you? In a perfect world,at the end of your life, what does your big finish look like?

- I didn’t occur to me at first but I guess that the title’s telling me to finish the book until its ending. It’s the most special part. In a perfect world, at the end of my life, the big finish would be to not be struggling from physical pains of aging.

[morethanaprincess-a]

❥

Loving Interactions meme

The instructions had been so simple, there was no possible way for Sonia to misinterpret them: to put on one of the dozens of gowns that were otherwise collecting dust in her wardrobe and come to the main hall at seven. Perhaps in another version of her life, she might have found it impertinent that, as Queen, she was taking orders from someone else. But frankly, she was simply too tired: tired of every nightmare, every memory, but mostly, trying to conceive of every possible reason to spurn him and his company, which now had lingered in the castle for months on end.

But her express order to rid her room of every reflective surface larger than her cosmetics mirror now proved a challenge: standing in her underwear and a face of makeup she’d applied herself that had turned out nicer than she thought it would, she now faced a rainbow of sparkle, satin, and shine of varying necklines and skirt widths with no idea of what to choose. Except, of course, anything that reminded her of her time as a princess and that hideous ruler that had nearly destroyed everything she held dear: white, cream, red, and pink were all now no good. And as much as she wanted to lean towards the opposite, her comfort color since her return to Novoselic, Sonia only ran her hand down the black sequin one-shouldered gown before pushing the hanger aside. That didn’t suit the mood either.

“Mint, blush, lilac, lavender, magenta...none of these are right,” She muttered, pushing more hangers to join the one holding up the slinky black gown, their sound scraping against the metal bar that held up the weight of her formalwear. It was nearly a lost cause and the clock was ticking fast, the sun already sinking low in the sky just beyond her balcony. Sonia had nearly reached the back of the closet and while she was determined not to be late, especially due to a crisis of fashion, she couldn’t help but worry that it was going to be inevitable. Pale shades didn’t feel right, reminding her of the princess she was, and anything that could bring her memories of those horrid gowns, constructed to show and hide blood for various situations were not viable options. Letting out a heavy sigh, Sonia leaned against the empty wall beside the rack of dresses, sliding down to a sitting position just beside her pair of glittering silver heels. Careful not to cast her gaze downward, she reached up to grasp at the velvet tray of jewels she’d summoned from the royal vault: diamonds she hadn’t seen since her parents were alive, when her mother wore them for state dinners only after Sonia begged to try them on first. They’d sparkle even in the faintest of light: the set of earrings, the bracelet, and tiara made to resemble woven flowers and covered with hundreds upon hundreds of stones. While she didn’t feel that hairbows and flowered bands suited her anymore, it was a gentle nod to the optimistic, kind girl she used to be.

Picking the tiara up with trembling hands, it would be the first time she’d wear one since the New Years Day address, and all of the emotions that had swirled within her as she’d tried to speak in confidence and with a smile and had just barely succeeded, downing an entire bottle of wine by herself almost as soon as the cameras stopped rolling. That crown had felt so heavy in comparison: this one was surprisingly light and slightly whimsical, the first accessory she’d seen and held in a long time, smiling as she was reminded of the life that flourished inside the castle and throughout the country before everything had gone so wrong. Pink lips formed into a smile as the overhead lights of her closet allowed the diamonds to twinkle back at her, as well as something else...something her left arm was brushing against. Turning to face the mesh that now tickled her skin, Sonia’s gaze came face to face with layers of tulle with an embroidered floral hem that covered an opaque silk layer underneath. Setting the tiara down, Sonia quickly scrambled to her feet to pull the gown from the rack with a deep breath: not quite black but not quite bright either: midnight blue with full skirt with thick straps that would rest just off her shoulders. It would be more than suitable.

Removing it from its hanger and stepping into the pool of skirts at her feet, Sonia pulled it up with relative ease, zipping up the side closure before she had a chance to fixate on the scars the silk hid beneath it. The jewelry and shoes were added after, the tiara highlighting one other attribute she could finally, confidently, wear again: her hair, still long and having regained most of its body and luster since she’d left the island, down her back, not an updo in sight. In the cosmetics mirror, it had already brightened up her complexion, another hint of who she used to be.

Standing straight, Sonia didn’t need a mirror to know that it was all a bit princessy, the sort of fantasy her classmates had always dreamed she lived. But now it hardly mattered. Now, she thought, she was ready to dream a little.

There was an eerie sort of quiet throughout the halls as she exited her room, taking the most direct route to the main hall. This time, with her permission, he’d dismissed most of the staff for the evening, save for whatever he had in mind. This she couldn’t fault him for: even with her family long gone, privacy was still a luxury she didn’t often have, from questions from ministers and parliament to the royal household. Even a queen hated and reviled by much of her people was still a queen in demand. And besides, that was how the stories went, didn’t they? On nights like this, the fairy tale heroes were never bothered unless it was the most opportune moment.

The click of her heels against the floor only paused once she’d reached the top of grand stairwell. Grasping the banister, she slowly took the stairs one at a time, inhaling deeply. It was silly: there was no reason to be nervous, they already knew so much, had done so much, she wasn’t meeting a stranger, not really. She was meeting someone she hadn’t come across for many years, since their time at school and due to circumstances they only wish they could have controlled more efficiently, they’d changed into people unrecognizable from their former selves, presences they had to banish from their hearts and minds both comatose and in the context of their darker, changed reality. Exhaling, Sonia stopped at the bottom of the stairs where he waited. There was no second-guessing her answer now: her decision to arrive on time and properly dressed only solidified that there was only one way she wanted her life to go: forward. It was time to stop being consumed by the past.

“I hope I’m not late,” She smiled softly, her way of announcing her arrival, “Though I have been brought up to understand that a queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early, no matter my country’s customs.”

But he’d had another way of greeting her, beyond a verbal assurance of her punctuality. Before she had a chance to react, one of Gundham’s hands reached for her own, bringing it to meet his lips. If she was attending a grand ball, Sonia would have found such a gesture to be the norm, acknowledging it with a gracious smile before making the small talk she had memorized prior. But this was entirely unexpected, causing her cheeks to flush light pink as a shiver went down her spine. Two things she hoped he didn’t notice as he straightened his posture and focused his gaze on her. He hadn’t needed to do that, both due to their night hardly being an official event and their rekindling friendship of sorts. Sonia didn’t really know how to define it: what did one call another whom they once loved emotionally and intimately, then hurt, then deserted, and now loved again? At least, as far as she knew, Gundham was ignorant of the last part.

“Thank you,” She continued, her own gaze meeting his as her smile, Sonia felt sure, now bordered on giddy entirely due to his kiss, “for arranging this. It’s so difficult to spend more than an hour or two with you without interruptions now and I’m so grateful.”

She didn’t know quite what was in store, but with the staff given the night off it was safe to assume that they weren’t leaving the castle, at least not dressed the way they were. On the streets of Novoselic’s capital, she was a glowing, sparkling target for acts of hatred. But within the castle walls, the possibility of a formal evening without the guests, the responsibility, and the stress was becoming more and more likely.

[princesssarisa]

Disney MBTI: Belle as an INFP vs. Belle as an INFJ or ENFJ (warning: long)

As I’ve explored the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and plunged into the world of fictional character typing, I’ve noticed one inescapable thing: that different people assign different personality types to the same character.

For example, let’s look at a character we all know is a favorite of mine: Belle from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Almost every MBTI source online types her as an INFP. But I’ve sometimes seen her typed as an INFJ too. I’ve also occasionally seen her typed as an INTJ or an ISFJ, though I definitely don’t agree with either. (Unless I’m mistaken, Funkymbtifiction used to have her typed as an ISFJ, but has since retyped her as an INFP.) Meanwhile, A Little Bit of Personality, which technically isn’t MBTI but a unique typing system derived from Jung, Briggs and Briggs-Myers’ work (and which in some ways I prefer to mainstream MBTI) doesn’t even type her as an Introvert, but as an ENFJ!

As believable as the traditional INFP typing is for Belle, the more I think about it, the more valid it feels to type her as an INFJ or ENFJ instead. Not more valid than INFP, but just as valid. Below I’ve analyzed Belle from the perspective of every MBTI cognitive function, observing how each might be seen to manifest in her. The two main cases I present are for the popular “Belle as INFP” vs. A Little Bit of Personality’s “Belle as ENFJ.” This makes for an easy comparison, because INFP and ENFJ have zero cognitive functions in common, and yet their types of functions appear in the same order: Feeling, Intuition, Sensing and Thinking. An INFP uses Introverted Feeling and Sensing, Extraverted Intuition and Thinking, while an ENFJ uses Extraverted Feeling and Sensing, Introverted Intuition and Thinking. Of course if you think she’s definitely not an ENFJ, then the same functions could be used to type her as an INFJ, just in the INFJ’s slightly different order.

(Note: This analysis only applies to the original 1991 animated Belle and the 1994 stage musical Belle. The 2017 live-action Belle is too different a character to add to the equation: I’d probably type her either as an INFP, an INTP or an INTJ, but definitely not as an INFJ or ENFJ.)

The case for Belle as an Fi user (Introverted Feeling) This is an easy argument. First of all, Belle is a social introvert, “never part of any crowd,” “with a dreamy, far-off look and her nose stuck in a book.” More importantly, she’s always authentically herself and lets no one else dictate her life. Despite being a friendless misfit, she makes no attempt to fit in with her neighbors, but prefers to withdraw into stories of romance and adventure. The iconic image of her wandering through the village absorbed in her book, seemingly oblivious to the townspeople singing about her, speaks for itself, as do the “odd” little things she does, like hitching a ride on the back of someone else’s wagon or talking to sheep. We might also argue that we see stereotypical Fi in her attempt to tell the baker about “Jack and the Beanstalk,” prattling on about a subject that excites her without noticing that he has no interest until he cuts her off. Nor, as the Beast learns, does she feel any need to obey authority if she doesn’t want to. But most importantly of all, she has strong internal values that no one can sway, even when no one else in her society shares them. Besides being kind, loving, selfless and honorable herself, she only opens up to people who treat her with utmost kindness and respect, as the Beast and Gaston both learn quickly. If others don’t live up to her inner values, then she wants nothing to do with those people, no matter how powerful, handsome or popular they might be. She craves a deep emotional connection and shared interests with friends and romantic partners alike, far beyond shallow physical attraction or small talk about everyday work. If she can’t find a connection that matches that idealistic vision, she’d rather just bury herself in her books and her dreams. Yet even when she does find that deep bond with the Beast, she doesn’t talk to him or anyone else about her growing feelings for him, but only ponders them to herself, as shown in “Something There.” Likewise, even though her dreams of adventure and “more than this provincial life” mean the world to her, she only voices those dreams in private rather than sharing them with anyone else. For all these reasons, she’s definitely an easy heroine for INFP viewers to relate to.

The case for Belle as an Fe user (Extraverted Feeling) It’s a stereotype to say that Fe users always go along with the crowd. In its purest form, Fe arguably isn’t about social skills or even harmony; it’s about attunement and responding to external cues in an emotionally meaningful way. Social skills just correlate with it because they’re a type of meaningful response, and regardless of her social life, Belle always responds to others with quick, decisive, emotionally meaningful action. Gaston proposes marriage? Out the door he goes. The Beast imprisons her father? She’ll take his place, no questions asked. The Beast’s rage scares her? Away she runs… and so on. Indeed, her one real flaw is impulsiveness, both in actions (e.g. sneaking into the West Wing, or revealing the Beast to the villagers) and in her initial negative judgment of the Beast (“I don’t want to get to know him!”). Yet she changes her view of the Beast just as quickly in response to his positive actions. For anyone who sees her as a Judging type, her quick actions and decisions are the best support for it. She’s not prone to the constant inner processing or analysis of most Perceivers. Furthermore, she cares very much about manners and social graces; she herself is neat, ladylike, and unfailingly polite unless she’s treated rudely, and part of what makes her “different” is that she lets no one be exempt from those social rules, regardless of their status, looks, gender or circumstances. She dislikes Gaston because he’s rude and inconsiderate; ditto for the Beast at first. Her most ENFJ-like, least INFP-like line is an important one: “And you should learn to control your temper!” While an INFP would also call the Beast out on his bad behavior, she’d be less likely to tell him to suppress his authentic emotions. Nor is Belle a contented loner; she wants friends. Yes, her scene with the baker can be viewed as showing Fi, but it can also be seen as showing Fe, as she tries to strike up a friendly conversation and share a story she thinks the man will like, only to be rudely brushed aside. She’s also less oblivious to her neighbors’ criticism than she seems at first (“Papa, do you think I’m odd?”). The case for Belle as an Fe user is a surprisingly solid one.

The case for Belle as an Ne user (Extraverted Intuition) From the start Belle dreams of “more than this provincial life,” imagining possibilities never even thought of by her neighbors. She craves stories about magic, adventure and exiting far-off places: things she’s never seen, but which just might exist out in the “great wide somewhere.” We also see her use her creativity in small practical ways, as when she hitches her ride on the wagon to get to the bookshop faster, or when she quickly figures out how to send Gaston plummeting into the mud when he proposes to her. Last but not least, after the Beast saves her life, she sees potential in him that others might not have seen. Even though he’s still angry and unpleasant back at the castle, she loses her fear of him and sees the possibility of goodness in him. Her ability to look past appearances, in every sense of the word, creates the happy ending.

The case for Belle as an Ni user (Introverted Intuition) Belle’s dreams are simple and abstract. We don’t see her thinking of different places she wants to go (though admittedly, Linda Woolverton wanted to show her doing that; the animators cut it) or different kinds of adventures she wants to have. We just see a simple, streamlined yearning for “adventure” and “more.” She never examines situations with different possible viewpoints either; this iron-willed heroine sticks to her own viewpoint and never questions it unless she sees clear proof that she was wrong. Equally ironclad is her inner concept of how people should treat each other, which the Beast learns to live up to but Gaston never does. While of course we can attribute this trait to Fi (see above), we can also attribute it to the narrowed-down vision associated with Ni: to a strong fundamental concept both of what is and of what should be.

The case for Belle as a Si user (Introverted Sensing) The main argument I’ve seen for this is that until Maurice goes missing, Belle never tries to leave the village or change her life. As much as she yearns for more, she arguably finds some comfort in her familiar surroundings and routine that keeps her from actively pursuing her dreams. Or at least she’s kept in place by her duty to take care of her father; dutifulness is another classic Si trait. (Of course it could also be simple poverty that keeps her there.) She enjoys nostalgia, rereading the same favorite books over and over again and relishing the familiar details, and it’s arguably her keen memories of the fairy-tales she’s read that lets her adjust so easily to living in an enchanted castle. Also, particularly in the stage musical (and the 2017 film), she empathizes with the Beast’s loneliness and feeling of otherness because of her own experience as a village misfit. That’s how INFPs empathize: by using their Fi and Si to “mirror” others’ feelings.

The case for Belle as a Se user (Extraverted Sensing) The first thing we see Belle doing is observing her little town in all its smallness, quietness and eternal sameness. Dissatisfied with her surroundings, yes, but still acutely observing them, not lost in her dreams. Nor, even while reading, is she as “dazed and distracted” as her neighbors think, as she neatly avoids tripping, bumping into anything or getting splashed with water. Dreamer though she is, she’s adept at living in the moment too. Consider her interactions with the Beast: the way she feels about him and responds to him is always in direct proportion to how he treats her. She refuses to consider any potential good in him as long as she’s seen only bad, but holds no grudge against him once she sees kindness and good deeds. She doesn’t need to weigh what she sees against her inner knowledge (not in this version, anyway); she accepts what comes to her.

The case for Belle as a Te user (Extraverted Thinking) Belle’s quick, decisive actions and impulsiveness, which the “Fe user” argument attributes to her Feeling function, can be attributed to her Thinking function in the INFP argument. Whether sending Gaston plummeting out the door, or trading her freedom to the Beast for her father’s, or running away from the Beast’s rage, or revealing his existence to the villagers to prove her father’s sanity, she’ll immediately take whatever practical action is needed to protect either herself or her loved ones. But (theoretically) because an INFP’s Te is her weakest function, those actions aren’t always as practical as they should be. She doesn’t consider that the woods are full of wolves, or that humiliating Gaston will make him more of a threat than ever, or that the villagers will react badly to seeing the Beast, etc. It’s easy to see both the positive traits of Te and the pitfalls of its underdevelopment in her.

The case for Belle as a Ti user (Introverted Thinking) Belle’s overly impulsive actions can also be attributed not to underdeveloped Te, but to underdeveloped Ti: logical analysis of data. It’s not that her action function itself is weak (just the opposite), but that she doesn’t think through the details of each situation to determine which action will be the wisest or safest. This can also be seen in her initial snap judgment of the Beast: in her righteous anger at his bad behavior, she overlooks the details that hint at his better nature, such as his giving her a comfortable room and his look of guilt at seeing her cry. But whether weak or strong, she still (theoretically) uses Ti, so her general grasp of details is a sound one. Overlooked nuances aside, her assessments of both the Beast and Gaston are basically correct, even when the rest of the world says otherwise. This is thanks to her inner logic’s conclusions about their actions.

As we can see, it’s hard to type Belle definitively. A solid case can be made for her being INFP, an INFJ or an ENFJ. Her INFP-like traits are definitely strong. But the ENFJ argument is a surprisingly convincing one too. Especially where the Beast is concerned: their early interactions have the definite vibe of an Fe user (her) clashing with an unhealthy Fi user (him) until the latter improves his manners and social skills. Yet how, I think to myself, could a dominant Fe-user, or even an auxiliary Fe-user, be a misfit like Belle who doesn’t even try to fit in with the crowd? Even if she failed to fit in, wouldn’t she at least try?

Is this difficulty in typing Belle proof that MBTI is a “pseudoscience” and not really useful for evaluating people? Or does it just show that fictional characters are hard to type because their actions can be interpreted in different ways? I’m not sure. But at any rate, it shows that to definitively type a fictional character, or a real person for that matter, we need clear definitions of each cognitive function. Uncertain definitions are what lead to uncertain typing.

[moonlitgleek]

Honestly, the argument over Lyanna’s consent could easily be settled by answering only four questions:

Was her consent voluntary?

Was her consent free?

Was her consent informed?

Was her consent ongoing?

I’m going to set aside Lyanna’s age for now despite how this alone invalidates any argument for consent since Lyanna was a minor even by Westerosi standards and thus incapable of giving consent. But I know that people will come out from the woodworks claiming that “this was how things were back then” which is factually incorrect, and “we shouldn’t apply our modern world’s rules to medieval period” which…. why shouldn’t I? The text calls Lyanna a “child-woman” and goes a long way in establishing her youngness, powerlessness and impulsiveness. It shows how a somewhat similar “relationship” between Cersei and Lancel - which also includes a fucked up power dynamic and an older “partner” using the younger one’s naivete for their own purposes - was devastating to Lancel’s psyche. We argue about the skewness of Dany\Drogo and what it means for the definition of their relationship, we argue about how Cersei and Lancel’s relationship could not be considered consensual despite Lancel saying yes. So why should I ignore the same considerations when it comes to Lyanna and Rhaegar?

However, let’s put that aside for a little while as we try to answer the above questions. Consent is not just about saying yes: for Lyanna’s consent to be valid and accepted, it had to be voluntary, free, informed and ongoing, otherwise it was not consent. But did these adjectives truly apply to Lyanna’s situation?

Was Lyanna’s consent voluntary?

Or did it involve any form of coercion, manipulation or pressure? Was it given on an equal ground that allows Lyanna to give consent without feeling any pressure or compulsion to do it?

From the very start, the power imbalance makes it close to impossible for Lyanna to give a voluntary consent. She was in a very vulnerable position: a 14 years old maid faced by an adult crown prince and his loyal Kingsguard, being trumped on account of both age and rank. The power dynamic is heavily skewed in Rhaegar’s favor here, which not only casts shadows on Lyanna’s assent but makes her ability to even express it in doubt since the situation would put tremendous pressure on her, simply based on the difference in age and rank.

But it goes beyond that. Oftentimes when the topic of consent is raised, it’s either the circumstances under which Lyanna disappeared or her experience at the Tower of Joy that are the subject of discussion. But I want to start a bit earlier than that, namely at the Tourney of Harrenha,l since we can’t really separate the events of the tourney from what happened next, not if we want to have a more thorough examination of this plot.

Rhaegar’s actions at the tourney are not usually discussed wrt Lyanna’s consent, even though they are actually the first clue that something is entirely wrong with this scenario. Much has been said about how dumb a political move Rhaegar’s crowning of Lyanna was; how it broke chivalric code and alienated two paramount families in one stroke while severely offending a third; how it was an insult to the honor of Lyanna and House Stark, etc, but not much about why Rhaegar chose to do it in spite of all these considerations. What did he hope to achieve with this stunt that posed an insult to both his wife and Lyanna, and that framed the latter as a royal mistress? Many people - myself included - have attributed that to an ill-fated attempt to reward Lyanna for her actions as the Knight of the Laughing Tree or even a nod of respect to her valor, but the thing is that Rhaegar was not unaware of the implications of his actions. He couldn’t have been ignorant of the insult he was dealing Lyanna, the Starks, and Robert and so if this was genuinely meant as only a reward or an acknowledgement of Lyanna, it defeated its purpose. You do not show respect to someone by publicly sullying their honor. Now I’m of the opinion that Rhaegar’s interest in Lyanna as the mother for his third child started at Harrenhal and before he found out that Elia could not have more children, so in light of that, what did Rhaegar have to win by declaring his designs on Lyanna so publicly, something that could only ever make it harder for him to have her? What purpose did that stunt serve and how does it fall in line with anything we know of Rhaegar? I find it very hard to believe that he committed such an outlandish blunder without a purpose and for absolutely no pressing reason. That crowning must have served Rhaegar’s interests somehow, otherwise he wouldn’t have risked so much doing it.

The only answer I can find lies with Lyanna herself, lies in the theory that Rhaegar’s actions were designed to appeal personally to Lyanna. Through her actions as the Knight of the Laughing Tree, Rhaegar knew her to be someone who put stock in honor and rules of chivalry so he controlled the image he presented to her from the get go. Rhaegar was a part of chivalric culture and he knew the importance of symbol and image politics; he probably already planned to use his chivalric image to appeal to the gathered lords as a better alternative for Aerys, but instead he used it to shape Lyanna’s opinion of him to guarantee a favorable outlook that would later help him convince her to run away with him. Rhaegar knew the worth of chivarlic action, one of its cornerstones being the crowning of queen of love and beauty at tourneys. By crowning Lyanna, Rhaegar projected to her an image of the chivalric prince who cherished her actions as the Knight of the Laughing Tree and sought to honor them, a complete opposite to what Robert would have done.

It’s also worth noting that the crowning fits perfectly into the romanticized idea of courtly love that is widely regarded as pure and ennobling (and that includes the  in-universe view. Look at how fond the singers are of the story of Queen Naerys and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight) which is something that must have appealed to a maid of fourteen with romantic inclinations who cried upon hearing Rhaegar’s song. That, in and of itself, is a strike against Rhaegar imo. He knew what his actions really meant and what they implied to the gathered lords. He knew he was breaking chivalric code and dealing a grave insult to many people, but he still chose to use a romantic chivalric notion to play on Lyanna's naivete, romanticism and even her sense of honor, and to project an image to her that, while not completely false, is still not honest. This was not simply a matter of Rhaegar appreciating Lyanna’s spirit, or even falling in love with her; he had ulterior motives driving his action to the point where he chose to insult so many people to ensure his objective: making Lyanna Stark enamored with the idea of him as someone who would not stifle her or force her into a specific box. Which, of course, was a lie.

That brings me to the circumstances of Lyanna’s disappearance from the Riverlands. While I do not think that Rhaegar took Lyanna by force, manipulating her into saying yes isn’t exactly a development. In all probability, Rhaegar projected an image of himself as someone who was granting Lyanna a choice, but while I do not believe that was true (more on that later), what mattered was that she believed that she could make her own decision, as opposed to being forced into a relationship with Robert. Lyanna was headstrong and free-spirited. She did not want to marry Robert and expressed her qualms to Ned, but no one took her opinion into account or cared about her objections. Her father pretty much owned her and he wanted the match with Robert so that was it. To be presented by a choice, to think that she was free to decide whether to stay or to leave, would appeal greatly to her, not to mention work to distance Rhaegar even more from Robert in her mind. To Lyanna, Rhaegar respected and even rewarded her willfulness, and gave her the space to make her own decision and to take her own life in hand, something that Robert would never do. But that was, in actuality, just an illusion Rhaegar projected to her. 

Under these circumstances, Lyanna’s consent can not be called voluntary. Not only did the situation include a good deal of manipulation or, at best, lying by omission, but she was not in a position to give voluntary consent in the first place due to the power imbalance between them.

Was Lyanna’s consent free?

Free consent means that the person giving it had the space to say no and to have their decision respected and honored. If someone isn’t willing to accept a no from a partner, then there is no freedom of choice in the first place, and thus consent can not be given.

Again, I go back to the power imbalance that, in and of itself, invalidates whatever consent Lyanna gave. A person in such a vulnerable position, under the authority of another, is incapable of giving consent. Lyanna and Rhaegar were not on equal ground in any way, shape or form, which muddies her consent. She could not compel Rhaegar to do anything at any point. She could not make him leave her alone if she wished. She could not make him respect her decision if she’d said no. She had no control over where she was going or how long she stayed there. She was in a situation that she could not get out of if she wanted to. What kind of consent could she give under these circumstances? A person in that unbalanced power situation can not give consent, plain and simple.

Secondly, did Lyanna have the space to say no and have it be respected? Would Rhaegar have simply left her alone had she refused him? No freaking way. Rhaegar was after his third head of the dragon and he was not going to turn around and find another to father his third child on that easily. For whatever reason, he believed that Lyanna had to be the mother of the third head of the dragon and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He had two Kingsguard with him to support his plans. That invalidates any consent given from the onset of this relationship. If Rhaegar wasn’t prepared to accept Lyanna’s rejection just as much as he was prepared to take her up on her agreement, then she did not have a choice in the first place, regardless of whether she understood that or not. That makes whatever scenario Rhaegar presented to her and the choice he supposedly gave her only a pretense designed to get her to agree to go without the need to physically force her. That is deception. If Rhegar had no intention of heeding Lyanna if her wishes contradicted his, but still made her think that she did have the space to say no, then he lied to her and deceived her. Any consent obtained under these circumstances can not be valid.

Was Lyanna’s consent informed?

Consent is not just about agreeing to something, it’s knowing fully well what you’re agreeing to. If you do not know what you’re saying yes to, how can your consent even count?

This is where I ask how much Lyanna knew about what she was agreeing to. If Rhaegar, at any point, withheld information from her or lied to her -- whether outright or only by omission -- he’d have rendered her incapable of consenting to anything. For Lyanna to make an informed decision, she needed to know about the prophecy and that Rhaegar primarily wanted her as a vessel for a prophecy child. She needed to know that Rhaegar’s plans included spiriting her to a tower in Dorne and staying there till he got his prized child. I’ve seen some arguments that Lyanna did know about the prophecy, but come on; she was a teenager trying to flee an unwanted marriage to someone who would have forced her to live by his beliefs. What 14-year-old rebels against being subjugated to one man’s whims only to run to another knowing he would subjugate her to his whims? What 14-year-old thinks it’s a swell idea to be an incubator for a savior? What 14-year-old thinks it’s a good idea to endanger her life in a high risk pregnancy in the middle of no where for something that sounds like legends and fiction? What’s with the belief that of course every single woman in Rhaegar’s life was ready to risk her well-being, and even her children’s well-being, for a prophecy that only ever sounded plausible to the Targaryens?

(And honestly, even if she did know and agree to this, I would still be spitting blood. Because she was fourteen, and Rhaegar had a responsibility to be the adult in the situation and recognize how utterly dangerous those plans were for Lyanna’s health. He was endangering her life by impregnating her, and raising the risk factor by leaving her in an isolated tower in Dorne without proper medical care.)

On top of that, Lyanna needed to know that she would not be able to have any contact with her family for as long as Rhaegar deemed necessary. She needed to know how utterly difficult it would be to get a marriage between her and Rhaegar recognized and what that means for her position in Rhaegar’s life. She needed to know that Rhaegar’s plans included vanishing completely and forcing her family into a confrontation with Aerys.

So did she know any of that? No? Then she did not know what she was agreeing to. She couldn’t make an informed decision because she did not have all the information necessary to see the complete picture. You can not consent to what you do not know.

Was Lyanna’s consent ongoing?

It’s not enough for her to say yes one time. Saying yes to leaving with Rhaegar is not a blanket consent to everything that happened afterwards. Did Lyanna agree to being spirited away to Dorne? Did she agree to staying in Dorne while Rhaegar left for the capital? Did she agree to be made to give birth in the Tower of Joy?

Lyanna’s experience at the Tower of Joy is frankly disturbing. By taking her to Dorne, Rhaegar effectively isolated her from everyone she knew and made her completely dependent on himself and his Kingsguard for everything, including information, which is made even muddier by the fact that Dorne was Elia’s home which means it was an unfriendly territory to Lyanna, the woman who Rhaegar dishonored Elia with. The information we have about the events starting from Brandon and Rickard’s murder paints a very ugly picture of what happened in that tower, because there is no way Lyanna would be content to simply remain at the Tower of Joy after knowing that her father and brother died as a result of an action she took. Even arguments that Lyanna might not been able to leave due to pregnancy complications can not account to the pesky fact that Rhaegar only left Dorne to fight in his father’s name against Lyanna’s surviving family, and that Lyanna would never be alright with that.

So we have a couple of options as to how this story went: 1) Rhaegar did not tell Lyanna about Rickard and Brandon, and she only found out sometime after he left, which means he withheld information and she had no say in the matter, or 2) Rhaegar did tell her but either pressured\manipulated her into staying, or outright prevented her from leaving, regardless of her wishes.

Neither scenario is particularly a riveting character endorsement of Rhaegar, neither do they bode well to any argument that Lyanna stayed in Dorne willingly.

I’ve always found arguments that Lyanna accepted Rhaegar’s decision to declare for his father both illogical and infuriatingly minimizing to Lyanna’s character. One of the few things we know about Lyanna is that she defended a stranger simply because he was her father’s man, and because she could not abide the injustice of three squires ganging up on him. She went on to defend Howland’s honor and rode in a tourney specifically so she could get justice for him. This is the girl who Ned described as having iron underneath her beauty, who obviously believed in family values, honor, justice and Northern nationalism. Assuming that she would be accepting of Rhaegar taking the field against her surviving family in the name of the king who murdered her father and brother flies in the face of any character motivation we ever glimpsed of her, not to mention blatantly ignores the fact that she was screaming for her brother as the Kingsguard met him sword-to-sword to prevent him from reaching her, or that she clearly trusted Ned and wanted him by her side.

Do not erase Lyanna’s experience at the Tower of Joy: isolated, pregnant, alone, dependent on Rhaegar and subject to his will, powerless to change her situation, forced to remain behind as the father of her child took up arms against her beloved brother who only rose to demand justice for their murdered father and brother, left to the “protection” of Rhaegar’s Kingsguard who were willing to kill her own brother on their prince’s orders despite how clear it is that Lyanna trusted Ned implicitly. None of that speaks of consent, or even of an ability to give consent.

In conclusion:

I think we’re having the wrong argument when it come to Lyanna’s story with Rhaegar: the point of examination should not focus on whether Lyanna agreed to run away with Rhaegar, or even whether she married him or not, but rather on the validity of her consent. Saying yes is not good enough under these circumstances, not where there are plenty of considerations that undermine her consent, not least of which being a teenager completely under Rhaegar’s power. We need to talk more about what Lyanna’s agreement truly means and how it redefines her relationship with Rhaegar. No matter how much we try to swing it, Lyanna was 14 and being “courted” by an older and more experienced man entirely capable of manipulating and coercing her, even if he did not use violence for it. The fact that she almost certainly did not know his true purpose in pursuing her (i.e: getting a child out of her for the prophecy) makes her consent even more dubious: Rhaegar withheld information about Lyanna and so whatever dubious consent she made was muddied even more by him deliberately making her unable to make an informed decision. And that’s just the surface level of this. This might have gotten her to the impulsive decision of marrying in front of a heart tree (as I believe things went) but the fact remains that agreeing to that is not the same as agreeing to isolation in Dorne, to remaining in Dorne while Rhaegar left to fight in Aerys’ name, and to be kept away from her remaining family by the sword even as she screamed for her brother.

[usernamingishard]

Reason

I’m sitting in a car as I’m writing this, facing a wall in some street, waiting my PC to be repaired, when I fell pathetically deep in thought.

I wanted to go look on the wall I’m facing, just to get a quick examination. It was just this random Urge that was induced into me somehow, without me having any part in the making of this need.

I didn’t feel like moving my muscles or stretching, even though I’ve been sitting for a while, I didn’t feel that the wall looked weird by any standard and wanted to just take a look, Surprisingly, I wasn’t even bored.

So, my mind did the simple process of evaluating the decision: Do I get out the car and examine the wall, or do I Try to forget about it?

I might be a very lazy person. I don’t like to do anything that might seem the slightest bit complex or attributed with an uncertainty, and I mean the slightest. What does this mean? Going to a supermarket to buy a drink can be complex because I have to find money first, ask the family if they want anything second, remember to take the keys before leaving home third; and it can be attributed with the uncertainty of, for example, the presence of the drink I want. The supermarket might have not have the drink due to increased demand or personal distaste by the owner towards the company of whoever makes the drink. So, I’m too lazy to go buy a drink from a supermarket. However, having a cup of water isn’t the slightest bit complex and isn’t attributed to any uncertainty, that’s because I know where the cups and the water dispenser are/is and know that they haven’t yet been fully used up.

When something doesn’t have those two problems at all, I don’t mind getting off the comfiest bed or seating position to do this something. I’m very energetic when it comes to actions that don’t involve uncertainty or complex actions.

So, naturally, laziness isn’t going to stop me from checking out the wall up ahead. In fact, considering how simple it is and how relaxed and free I feel, I wouldn’t mind it one bit.

But yet, I don’t actually get off my seat. Why? Well, you’re asking the wrong question. It’s the other way around. Why, actuality, should I get off my seat? Well, I don’t have a reason to check the wall. Not a real one, atleast. Considering how simple it is to check the wall, I would take the most pathetic excuse as reason to check the wall, and wouldn’t regret it or feel reluctant doing it. But I didn’t have that excuse.

That’s when I realised it. Something that dawned on me, and yet, I could never understand or even imagine at all.

You can have whatever reason you want for checking that wall. If you thought that checking the wall might save someone’s life someway or another, with no personal gain whatsoever, being a kind-hearted man would be the reason. If there was nothing solid or fundamental under this action, but you just wanted to move your muscles out of discomfort caused by not-moving, that’d be a reason.If you were a madman with no grip on reality and no atom of sanity inside your head existed, your unconscious mind’s unnecessary paranoia would be the reason.

So, there it is. Having a reason, no matter how “Unreasonable,” is unavoidable. If you had no reason to go outside and check that wall, you never would. This is because you neither have a reason, nor did circumstances and situations lead you into going there (such as dream walking or the madman’s case). It’s like an inevitable impossibility, an unreachable state that’s so close, yet too far to matter.

If being in a place or performing an action without reason is such an impossibility, does that ACTUALLY mean that to some extent we have no control in our lives? Because every single thinking being is a slave to reason. Not “reason” as in sensible meaning behind the task, but “reason” as in an effect’s cause.

If you had no reason to depart from the car, it becomes an inevitable impossibility to do as such. Truly, Cause and Effect are an inseparable pair. Something that seems so simple and easy, yet so impossible to do. All that needs to happen is for the muscles to contract, to move just the slightest, smallest immeasurable distance, without your conscious or unconscious reasoning, and you’ve destroyed the world’s order. But it’ll never happen. Even if it weren’t your will, it’ll be another reason such as some event in the body misread by the brain, causing an unnecessary reaction.

If you try the “Why?” Game, a reason will be behind every single question; except, perhaps, the last question. You’ll see what I mean in a second. Why was the command to move given by the brain? Some change in the natural surrounding. Why is there change to a natural factor such as, say, Wind? Gas atoms push each other when trying to avoid each other. Why do they do that? Due to their Kinetic energy, usually gained from transferred heat energy; AND due to the unlike (negative) charges of an electron that revolve around the atom repelling each other…

After cracking this whole series of questions, there’ll be no other reason than that God made it that way. And even God has motives, which are to have faithful followers and reward them. How does God create all these rules? That points me to the next paragraphs.

This part is very heavily based on Islam, so be careful if you’re pathetically offended by normal conversation. Because anything is offensive nowadays, and I’m not gonna bother.

   I learned recently that Time itself is probably a creation by God. Not in the sense that God just made it for some purpose, but in it being created to pray and worship for God and to follow his orders. Which is why we will live in a different type of time in Heaven or possibly without at all. Which is also why Time has no effect on God. Which is why it is said that he doesn’t have a beginning or an end. It’s definitely an idea very far from the human mind to effectively consider, and we may never understand it till we see it in Heaven (Here’s hoping we’ll both be there).

So I was thinking. What if Cause and Effect had the same treatment? What if it’s a creation by God to make us perceive things in a way he sees fit?

In Heaven, it is said that you can have anything, and that there can’t be a disappointment. Heaven is so beyond perfect, you can’t imagine something good, and receive a lesser product. So, if I wanted to be in a place clear of anything, just an empty void, then receive a drink that I would enjoy from nowhere, that’ll probably be the case. It’ll literally just spawn in my hand or in arm’s reach, without it falling, even though I could be laying on the ground by gravity (if I felt like it). Such a thing is obviously, and for obvious reasons too, unlikely to happen in the real world. So, instead of changing Physics on Heaven, will god WILL the Cause and Effect theory to not exist?

So, through this progressive thinking, I find it very possible that Cause and Effect are going to have the same treatment as time, and might not even exist in Heaven. It’s all pretty unimaginable now because our Minds weren’t made to comprehend these things in the first place.

But, like time travel, will Theorists slowly, maturely imagine a fun, interesting and exciting way to exploit the Cause and Effect theory that’ll spawn a decade of Movies, Games, Comics, Scientific theories and Books? I sure hope so, and hope that I’ll be present during a time like that.

[citizentruth-blog]

Don't Trust Your Lying Eyes, Say the Liars

What's the matter, Nick? Don't feel like wearing your MAGA hat now? What about that smirk? Stop it before I throw up. (Image Credit: Savannah Guthrie/Twitter) A while back, I attended a Saturday morning meeting for a group of Democratic Party supporters in northern New Jersey. Former FOX News personality and Democratic strategist Julie Roginsky was the special guest. She talked about, among other things, having conversations with people who hold different political views, and at one point, fielded questions from those in attendance. Anna Wong, a tireless activist and someone I know from her work with Indivisible NJ-5, stepped up to the mic, and with a sense of due frustration, asked how we're supposed to reach across the aisle when we can't even agree on a set of facts, let alone whether facts matter. Anna's question and how she delivered it prompted laughter from the audience—myself included—but she was very earnest in her query. Thinking back to this scene, as I frequently do, I too wonder how having a dialog with people of opposing ideologies is possible when both can't agree to the same qualitative or quantitative data—right down to what we see. The episode which jumps to mind, especially as a tone-setter for the Trump administration, is the whole business about whose inauguration crowd was bigger: Donald Trump's or Barack Obama's. It seems like eons ago when Sean Spicer—remember him?—was trying to persuade us to believe that the president's detractors were manipulating camera angles of aerial views to diminish Trump and his achievements. Meanwhile, in the real world, objective visual analysis showed Obama's numbers clearly bested Trump's. Like, it wasn't even close. If Washington, D.C. transit numbers are any indication, Obama walloped Trump in attendance, managing 513,000 trips on the Metro by 11 A.M. in 2009 to his successor's 193,000 by the same time. The numbers, at least in this case, don't lie. And yet, Trump et al. held to their erroneous claim. As Groucho Marx would say or is thus attributed, who are you going to believe: me or your lying eyes? Like some errant, erratic philosopher, President Trump seemed to be arguing against the very existence of verifiable truth. To borrow a phrase from Kellyanne Conway, there were no lies—only "alternative facts." Seeing is believing? No, no—believing is believing. If you're not on the side of the president, you're not on the side of America. How are we supposed to make the country great again if you don't buy in? We're in 2019 now, but the same tactics are being used by conservative commentators and, in turn, centrist media outlets to make us question what we see and know. Back in November, there was an uproar from the right after CNN reporter Jim Acosta was alleged to have manhandled a female aide who tried (unsuccessfully) to grab his microphone during a Trump press conference. Abuser, they cried! Assault, they railed! Of course, there was a proportionate uproar from the other direction when the Trump administration moved to revoke Acosta's credentials (and deservedly so), but with various critics calling for his ouster at CNN, one might've been concerned the network would give in to the calls for Acosta's head. What was truly disturbing about the whole episode was not Acosta's conduct—the CNN correspondent may have been a bit defensive about giving up the mic but he did excuse himself as the young woman grasped for it—but rather the attempts to discredit him. Instrumental in the effort to get Acosta canned was a video shared on social media by InfoWars editor-at-large Paul Joseph Watson and later passed along by Sarah Sanders that showed the interaction between Acosta and the aide. The clip appeared to show Acosta arresting the woman's arm with a "karate chop" of sorts. Casually omitted from proliferation of this video segment, however, was the knowledge that the action had been slowed or sped up at points to make Acosta's movement seem harsher than it actually was. The audio of Acosta excusing himself also was removed. The footage from the press conference was, in a word, doctored. By the time the clarifications could be assigned a day later, the right was already off and running with its narrative. To this day, conservative trolls maintain that Acosta should've been fired for his "attack" on the aide. In doing so, they have chosen a very convenient point at which to come to the defense of a young woman when members of the Republican Party are generally so intent on circumscribing women's power and freedom. But I digress. These cases are a little bit different in their presentation. With the aerial shots that proved Obama's crowds were bigger beyond the shadow of a doubt, there was little Donald Trump and his cronies could do outside of arguing for the relativity of truth in the abstract. Re Jim Acosta vs. the female White House aide, there was intentional manipulation at work(Watson denies it, but it's not like he and InfoWars have built a strong sense of credibility), though there were other versions of the clip from more trustworthy sources available. Either way, you were made to doubt what you saw or thought you saw. The eyes, they play tricks. And as we know, tricks are for kids. You're not a kid, are you? It is within this context that we can view the much-talked-about interaction between Covington Catholic High School (KY) students in Washington for a March for Life and Nathan Phillips, a Native American and veteran present for the Indigenous Peoples March. The iconic moment, if you will, happened when Nick Sandmann, one of the students and one of a number of them wearing a MAGA hat, stood face to face with Phillips while the latter beat a drum and sang. As Phillips has said in interviews, he was attempting to intercede between the students and members of the Black Hebrew Israelites, who shouted epithets at the high schoolers and preached about how they were "cursed Edomites." In the initial reaction to video from the interaction, most people regarded the Covington Catholic H.S. students fairly negatively. They were akin to a mob, standing in menacing opposition to Phillips, who was but one man. And that smirk. The enduring image of Sandmann staring motionless and speechless with a smirk on his face conveyed notions of racism and white privilege. Here were a bunch of white kids ganging up on an older person of color, a veteran and Native American no less. What better symbol of Trump's effect and how discriminatory values are inculcated in future generations? Not soon after, though, the narrative began to change. Additional videos were released that showed additional footage, including the students being egged on by the Black Hebrew Israelites. All of a sudden, these boys were the victim or were regarded with less contempt than before given the circumstances. Actually, now that I look closer, Phillips accosted them, not the other way around! We owe them an apology! We're so sorry, Covington Catholic High! Our mea culpas and retractions can't come fast enough! Thankfully, not everyone is buying the "both sides" arguments and self-flagellation many among the media, their associated outlets, and Hollywood's elite have begun to make. Laura Wagner, reporter at Deadspin, for one, advises us not to doubt what we saw with our own eyes. Recounting the predictable shift from immediate condemnation of the boys' conduct to downplaying if not outright denying any wrongdoing, Wagner addresses the notion that the kerfuffle on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial is nothing more than a Rorschach test for what you personally believe: One lesson of the past two days is that you will see what you want to see here, if you are determined to do so; that does not mean that there is anything to be seen but what is there. I see a frothing mass of MAGA youth—who, since we’re taking in all angles here, go to a school where students fairly recently wore blackface to a basketball game—frenzied and yelling and out of control. I see four black men who seem to belong to the Black Israelites—a threat to women in their orbit, but not to random white people they’re heckling—yelling insults at the students. Then I see Phillips, as he has stated from the beginning that he did, walk up to the teens, in what seems to be an attempt to diffuse the situation. I see them laughing and dancing, red MAGA hats bobbing up and down in glee. I see them yell in Phillips’ face, and I see that he doesn’t falter. I see the smugness of a group secure in its relative power over someone more vulnerable than they are. Nothing about the video showing the offensive language of Black Israelites changes how upsetting it was to see the Covington students, and Sandmann in particular, stare at Phillips with such contempt. I don’t see how you could watch this and think otherwise unless you’re willing to gaslight yourself, and others, in the service of granting undeserved sympathy to the privileged. And yet, that's exactly what happened. Various individuals backtracked, excused themselves, blamed their "reptile brains." They ignored their initial emotional responses and, without much else informing their decision-making, reversed their position. I apologize. I regret. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. As far as Wagner is concerned, the reason for this is simple: it makes them seem more reasonable and trustworthy. They're not among the followers of the news who react impassionedly to it, betraying their better judgment for the sake of an outrage fix. Even if that means, as Wagner puts it, "siding with some shithead MAGA teens and saying that 2 + 2 = 5 in the face of every bit of evidence there is to be had." Whatever the reason, the final outcome still stands. These people failed to believe what they had seen with their own eyes. One criticism from people tracking this story is that these kids are being demonized by some, but what would you have them do instead? Unfortunately for promoters of this line of thinking, the answers are pretty easy. Walk away. Find a chaperone. Certainly, don't make mocking tomahawk chants. For those suggesting "boys will be boys" or pointing to the folly of youth, that shouldn't be an excuse. If Gillette can make an advertisement about toxic masculinity (which you may hate for being too preachy, but that's another story), these Catholic school kids can behave in a respectful manner. Blame the parents if you want, but let's have some responsibility assigned. Otherwise, some might point to the remarks made by Nick Sandmann and agree with his side of the story. But come the eff on. Why would this kid and his family need to hire a PR firm if, as the saying goes, the truth shall set you free? And that smirk. I know I'm harping on it, but it's pretty hard to get past. Sandmann says he was trying to diffuse the situation, but he could've taken any of the prescribed actions to do that rather than standing within feet of Nathan Phillips and smiling like an entitled little asshole. That Savannah Guthrie would encourage his defense of his "right" to stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and listen to Phillips as part of a softball interview is downright nauseating. The last objection to deliberation on this altercation may be perhaps the most valid: "Who cares?" That is, why are we spending so much time on whether some high schooler was smirking at an older Native American man when there's a crisis in Yemen, lead is still being found in drinking water, and other catastrophes abound? Relatively speaking, the events of this past weekend are a blip on the proverbial radar. Their symbolic value, meanwhile, carries more weight. It's about media portrayal of members of different ethnicities. It's about how pressure by conservative commentators and right-wing trolls—including threats of violence and release of personal information—can influence individuals and media outlets to spin the national conversation toward white victimhood. And it's about how people irrespective of gender or political ideology can be made to doubt what they see. It has nothing to do with "intelligence" either. When group dynamics are at work, the pressure to conform is a powerful force. We're all susceptible. Returning to the anecdote from the start of this piece, if it's hard to agree on what is factual or whether that matters, it's that much more difficult to have a meaningful conversation when something is right before our eyes and we can't come to a consensus on what we see. That's the most disturbing implication of the Covington Catholic/Nathan Phillips standoff and why people like Laura Wagner invoke 1984's dystopia. When you're made to question your own judgment, you're liable to believe anything. Should Nick Sandmann or anyone else involved herein be sent death threats? Of course not. But should he and his peers be absolved of all culpability? I submit no, and neither should the antagonists of the Black Hebrew Israelites. If you saw what I saw, you're not wrong—lying eyes and all. Read the full article

[foxcroft-rpg-blog]

Congratulations, Ro! You had me sold when I saw you understood just why I made Wells a wyrth. Not only that, but you have his personality down too. I’m really excited to see what you do with him.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Ro

Age: (16 and over) 26

Preferred pronouns: (if you’re comfortable sharing) He/Him

Time zone: PST

Activity: (include a brief explanation) I’m a pretty dedicated RPer and though my life has gotten crazy busy as I now work in the film industry and am just finishing up my 3rd year University, I still make time for it reliably. During the summer, I will mostly be on on weekends and probably 1 or 2 days a week, depending on if I’m working on set during the week. During the school year my availability is less predictable, so it just depends what we’re doing at the time, but I’ll always find time to be on weekly.

Anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.)

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Wells Donovan

Date of birth: November 2nd, 1989

How long have they been in Foxcroft: (1-3 sentences. Please be consistent with bio.)Since September of 2016, I think, according to the bio and the timeline of when Adam Foxcroft was found in the swamps. So approaching a year, so far?

Sexuality: (include a brief explanation) Bisexual - Though I think his sexuality is not something he’s explored as openly or frequently until after his sister’s death. Not that he was purposely avoiding it, but I feel like circumstances were such that he was mostly with women in his younger years. Her death, I think, made him crave a freedom that he didn’t know he needed, much like when he took to the road to try to escape his grief.

FC change: (if applicable please include three possible changes in order of preference)N/A

MORE

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths. (2+ paragraphs) Wells to me is a passionate and loyal individual who, despite being friendly and easy to get along with, is a lot more private and reserved than people think on first impression. I think his outgoing nature makes it difficult for people to see or understand that just because he’s outgoing, doesn’t mean he’s an extrovert. His ‘recharge’ time is when he’s alone or at home, in a controlled environment, and one of the reasons his relationship with his sister was so vital in his life, aside from them being twins, is that she was one of the few people he felt utterly himself and comfortable with at all times. He believes she brought out the best in him, and since her death, has struggled to know exactly who he is without her. His loyalty and pensiveness can make him sweet, at times, and he means well, always. But he is also deeply nested inside his chest, distraught with a loneliness he doesn’t quite know how to handle or deal with. He is extremely protective of those he cares about, and much like his mechanic ways, he is a 'fixer’. He likes to understand problems, especially those of others, and have his hand at assisting in correcting them. He likes to help people. [ strengths: loyal, disciplined, just | weaknesses: stubborn, pessimistic, self-isolated ]

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft? Wells is naturally contemplative and cerebral. He tends not to react to things heatedly, but with pensiveness. Hazel died before he arrived in the town, and I don’t think he thought that much of it at fist because it makes sense that unexplained deaths would linger as a big deal in small towns where everyone knows each other. But when Adam died, I think that struck Wells with a new sort of suspicion, being able to witness the ripple effect reaction of the town in the aftermath. The fact that Hazel’s case was still unsolved, and that Adam turned up in the same manner, Wells is starting to become suspicious and he knows there is something unique to the town, and that there’s much more than meets the eye. He’s curious and wants to understand what’s going on and what’s behind this little town he’s landed himself in.

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them. He has a hard time identifying with the problems of the town. His life has involved so much changing and moving around between foster homes, etc, that he has a hard time adjusting to the mentality of people who’ve never known or seen change. Who live so much in fear of it. Regardless, he doesn’t have particularly strong feelings about the church or religion. He was not raised religious, and is a bit too much of a critical thinker to be particularly prone to faith. However, that isn’t to say he doesn’t like the townspeople. When he first moved, he was relatively indifferent, but now he is both drawn to and fears them, in a way. There is something about the town and the people that makes him feel connected to them, yet almost entrapped. He feels a part of something bigger, but he knows there is information just beyond his reach, and for now the puzzle pieces are too scattered and incomplete for him to have a strong grasp on the big picture of Foxcroft.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate. Considering the nature of Well’s new 'ability’, it’s not something he noticed right away, and even still he is only just beginning to realize that there might be something going on with him that he can no longer attribute to coincidence or good karma. Due to being a new arrival to the town, and knowing so few people, it took a few months for any circumstance to arise in which he’d accidentally happen upon his healing ability. However, he first noticed it in a way that was more difficult to shrug off, when he was helping a kid up who’d slipped and fallen on his bike just outside the Wicked Wrench. The kid had bloodied up his knees pretty bad, and when Wells was wiping them off with a warm, wet rag, carefully cleaning pebbles form the wound, suddenly it seemed as though the cuts were much less prominent than he’d thought. There was barely any abrasion, and the blood seemed to be coming from a cut so minor, it hardly made sense. He swore just a moment ago it’d been a gash… unless it’d simply been the blood smeared that had made it look that way…. it wasn’t until after the kid had left and Wells had stepped back into the garage that he noticed his own jeans were red at the knees… He doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s an exception in this town of the unexplained. He feels very much as though whatever is going on, is linked to where he’s currently living, and he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can feel it coming.

Please include 1-2 possible plots your see for this character (1 paragraph brief explanation for each) I think the fact that he’s a 'healer’ when he didn’t have the power or the chance to save his sister, will wreck him. No doubt that went into the decision making when you made him a wryth. But anyway, that fact is one of the first things that gave me a hit of inspiration for this character. This is probably something that nags at him daily and plagues his nightmares, because it’s bad enough losing your twin and your only anchor in the world, but suddenly obtaining an unforseen power to heal, only it’s too late? I would like to explore this with him extensively, and I can see it kind of breaking him, to a certain degree. Like he could become obsessive with it, to the point of almost putting himself in the hospital, because he’s getting reckless with his healing. I’d also like to explore how it affects his psyche—to have the POWER to heal, but to not be ABLE to because it might kill him is like a certain kind of torture, especially for someone like Wells, and I think that this could really mess him up, and badly affect his relationships and decision making. Connected with that, I can also see him trying to take matters into his own hands to do with getting to the bottom of these mysterious deaths, etc. Partially because he’s desperate for the distraction, to keep himself from thinking about his continued grief, and partially because for some reason he thinks it might give him a sense of relief, that he’s helped or avenged someone, even if it could never bring his sister back.

WRITING SAMPLE

Hiya! So I’m pasting these samples of my writing in because the blogs they used to exist on are private now. Hope that’s okay!  (The one from Derrick is not actually from the account I’m applying from, haha.)

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SAMPLE EXCERPT 1 - Derrick

Everything was oddly lethargic today. Although, perhaps lethargic wasn’t the word. Perhaps a better description would be slow with a false sense of relaxation. A certain kind of conceding to the feeling of sadness that now coated his throat in a gradual, thick drip. Something he was now used to, or getting there, at least; a new phase to the turning down of his mouth. He’d waded through anguish, thrashed through anxiety and now he was treading water warmed by his own movement. Disturbed sand from a distant bottom he could not see churned beneath his feet and made his skin and toes feel gritty. The darkness of the lake he was trying not to drown in remained more or less as impenetrable as ever, but Derrick now found solace in its darkness. Familiarity with his hurt; it was an unlikely friendship they had now, he and pain, but this was the way it was. This was the way it had to be because he would not change anything, should he had ever been given the chance.

He straightened the collar of his shirt in the cracked and crying mirror, its grunge too thick to see through. The tremble of his fingers against his neck was slight this morning, and he took a moment to stroke at the smoothness of his clean shaven skin. The normalcy of it brought him comfort, cleanliness, control.

A control he would not lose again; not this time, and not in this way. He would go downstairs and meet his lawyer for the third time within these walls, shake his hand and thank him for coming. He would find Lukas on the way down, perhaps, and smile like nothing had changed or there had been no clicking of new concepts in his head. Or rather, perhaps that was wrong; perhaps the smile would just be with a new surrendering, to the knowledge that this was the way things were, and the loss of his ignorance would not stop him from picking up where he’d left off. He’d continue with the case, he’d move forward in his complicated relationship with the sociopath he’d never anticipated growing close to. He’d continue with the same ease and intuition as he had while adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve, the same simple fact that was his sorrow. Because these things were what brought him closer to ‘Derrick’, and further from his father. These were the things he clung to, because what world with no one to live for was worth living in?

His love for Oliver made him stronger, his empathy for Lukas, courageous. His dissonance with Allison made him human. And somehow, he would make peace with these things. Because changing them was not an option, had never been.

He left his room, his doubts lingering at his fingers and sticking back on the scuffing of the doorknob like invisible prints. He would not need them today—more accurately, he could not afford them. The click of the latch behind him was the precursor to the click of his shoes down the quiet hall on this otherwise uneventful Saturday. And then, two steps, three steps, there was something similar, an echo of his own departure and he turned around to see black hair, fine limbs looking stiff in even stiffer clothing—a hesitant smirk of disdain and perhaps even what Derrick has come to read as friendly greeting. Well, as friendly as this particular teenage presence got. But Derrick liked that he could recognize it now, the varied levels of Lukas’ often overlooked depth. It was there, just murkier and more challenging to define.

And he smiled. Rose a brow and prepared a sly quip or two about the teen’s cleaned up attire. Because it was familiar. Because it was safe. And because Derrick was tired of wallowing in things he could not, and would not change.

Because if  and when the worst thing he did in this sick and twisted world, was to love too freely, then he could consider himself in a good place. And if he had the capacity to believe in the case that he and Lukas ventured to tackle, he must also have the capacity to embrace what he could not shun. It was the only way. And it was better.

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SAMPLE EXCERPT 2 - NOAH

*TW: mature themes, sexual/violent content* - lemme know if this is an issue and I can send you a different sample!

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As Phoenix ordered Noah onto his hands and knees, muttered in a low and hot command, Noah thought about how dangerous this could be. Having Phoenix move in, be here on the good nights as well as the bad, experience Noah in his extended, uncensored edition. He thought about how unlike him this was, this decision, because having Phoenix around full time meant committing to him in some way. It meant admitting that he was something more than just a random fuck, regardless of what that ‘more’ even meant.

It was dangerous, and he felt sure he would many a time in the future consider this choice to be a lapse in judgement—and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to seriously feel like he’d made a mistake, wanted to have that inkling suspicion that this was all wrong because that would then eliminate the risk of Noah’s future let downs. If he regretted it now, he’d be less likely to find himself terrifyingly close to someone three months from now, in a way he hadn’t been in years.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t ready for that. He’d hardly been capable of it even before her death. Felt most times like he hadn’t been wired to function that way.

But nonetheless, he couldn’t bring himself to feel precisely the emotion of regret as Phoenix fucked him raw and without shame into the headboard. As he bent his limbs with the kind of brutal insistence that would leave bruises and sore spots, muscles strained and stretched uncomfortably for the evening and the day following, in the least. He couldn’t gather any feelings that weren’t numbed, ecstatic pleasure, white hot and sharp, as Phoenix pounded him so thoroughly it became difficult to breathe, difficult to tell exactly where inside his body Phoenix wasn’t touching. Because he seemed to be consuming Noah from every end, every angle—burrowing himself inside Noah’s body so deeply and so thoroughly that there was no escaping him, no part of Noah’s narrow, bony frame that went unclaimed by him.

And it was numbing. And it was fucking perfect.

And that’s how he fell asleep that night. Perfectly numbed and completely obliterated with exhaustion—worked to the bone by Phoenix’s nails and teeth and pelvis, worked until there was absolutely nothing left of himself to give and he laid there in a mess of sheets, wrung out and winded, passing out sometime after Phoenix had cum inside him for the second time.

He had a vague memory of the blond leaving breathless kisses on his shoulders, but then the rest sort of faded to black.

He’d slept hard—so hard he hadn’t moved—fell asleep on his stomach with his hands under the pillows, his head turned away from the heat of the man beside him, not by choice so much as by habit. And when he would wake, a few hours later, it would be in the very same position—but it would not be before Noah remembered the way the roof shingles felt textured and rough beneath the heels of his palms, not before he could taste that half-smoked joint on his tongue.

~

They were laughing, again, as they often did, and it was that sort of lazy, rolling chuckle that came from being completely and totally relaxed around a person, as if being with them was equally as natural as breathing. And Noah was leaning back on his elbows, the scratch of the roof almost a comfort purely for its familiarity, and the stars were bright spots in the sky that had been just the same as last night, and the night before that, and the night before that.

And she was talking—she’d talked a lot, actually, and she was the only person whose talking hadn’t bothered Noah in the slightest, maybe because it came out sounding so smoothly to him, like her thoughts were the same as his thoughts, even when they weren’t. She’d had so many wildly different opinions, and even when he hadn’t agreed with them, he’d felt them in some way, as if… as if they’d lived inside a part of Noah too, even when they weren’t his own. They belonged there, too, because they were Kaitlyn’s and because she was as much a part of him as he was of her.

He remembered so vividly; the sound of her laugh and the abrasion of the tar and dried rubber beneath them—and then she was falling, kicked off the roof by some unknown force and he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t stop her, could do nothing to change it other than sit there helplessly and watch as she was torn from him and fell and fell and fell like there was no earth beneath them, no nothing, and suddenly he was falling too, only in the other direction, yanked away from her by the gut at a horrific speed, falling like the very essence of gravity, because his up was now down and no amount of thrashing could stop it, could stop any of it, she was just going, going and going and she would never hit the ground, Noah doomed to watch her fall away from him for eternity.

~

He woke in a sweat and with a gasp that was more like a choke—he didn’t know there were tears on his face until he felt them, sticky and wet against his palms as he tried to quell his heartbeat into something less violent, something less debilitating. He’d shot up, face falling to his hands, sitting bowed and broken-spined away from Phoenix, who he could now hear stirring behind him and this was why, this was why he couldn’t do this, couldn’t have this because he would always be this—this barely functioning toy marked 'as-is’ whirring and stopping and going and ticking in unmediated tempos, half-hazard patterns, and he couldn’t bare the fact that he was a cracking shell, somewhere between empty and overflowing, and that the young blond would get to watch his crumbling, night after night after night after fucking night, and he couldn’t fucking do this—

—he couldn’t breathe, either.

It was like his chest was gasping for air but each swallow was pulsing back into a curved spine, bouncing off ribs and ricocheting back out. Leaving Noah with no oxygen, no air, and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t function and he’d been here before, time and time again and he usually waited until the worst of it passed before willing himself onto wobbly legs to get himself water. Run his head under the tap when he couldn’t manage anything more. But Phoenix was there and Noah was not, he was gone, somewhere far away, tangled and choking and compressed and every movement was an ache, every slight, an ignition for his head to spin so fast he thought he might puke and he just needed air and maybe then, if his God damn lungs would start fucking working for fuck’s sake, he would be able to get to the part where he could deal with the crying bit—that is, stop it a-fucking-mmediately. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t do that until he caught his God damn breath, and with every moment he was more awake but no more coherent, no more capable.

All because he’d been forced to remember, when all he wanted was to forget.

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EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?: (In this roleplay there is always the possibility of death, and as an admin I’d like to know who is and who isn’t comfortable with this ahead of time.)

I’m mostly pretty uncomfortable with it, because I get excruciatingly close to my characters, and the idea of them getting killed off really freaks me out. I get pretty vulnerable with the characters I write. That being said, if for whatever reason in the future, I was interested in switching characters but staying in the RP, I’d consider it? But that depends, because I have a hard time with personal character deaths haha.

Why did you choose this character?:

I connected with Wells immediately, partly due to the fact that I’ve written a character in a very similar situation as him before. Admittedly, they have very different personalities, and I’d neverdream of playing them the same way, but still, it was a character who is nestled desperately deep in my heart, so I connected with Wells’ story quickly. Also, I connect with his sense of loneliness, and his independence. His desire to just drive and see where the road takes him. Function on impulse getting from gas station to gas station and make up the rules as he goes along. He strikes me as someone who is strong and loyal and someone who people like to be around because of this, but underneath he carries this darkness with him that he hasn’t yet properly faced. The layers and potential in his bio and his story truly inspire me <3

Extras: (pinterest boards, mock blogs, aesthetic posts, drabbles, etc.) N/A at the moment, sorry my dear! I’d do some up, but I really want to get my app in tonight and I have a bunch more homework to get to before bed!

How did you find us?: (certain roleplay tags, friend referral, etc.) In the literate rp tag I think! And a looooooot of scrolling to find something worthwhile. Then TADA. Paradise :)

[reginapendatun-blog]

LO2

“OUR DIFFERENCES IS NOT A WEAKNESS BUT A STRENGTH IF ONLY WE WOULD ACCEPT, UNDERSTAND, AND APPRECIATE.”

Last September, I was given the opportunity to conduct my practicum in the European Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines. I was assigned under a department that also hosted other interns and was led by a supervisor that monitored our tasks and behavior. My co-interns and I were of the same age however, our supervisor was around his late 50s while other supervisors in other department were younger or were rather within the millenial age bracket. Accomplishing our practicum hours, it became apparent that the tasks and the manner as to how our supervisor dealt with us were different from his other colleagues: he was very strict, was a perfectionist, and was intimidating. Consequently, it became difficult for us to work and accomplish our tasks because we were not motivated not inspired n our workplace. Our supervisor was older and it was difficult to interact with him. I guess, it was because most of us were millenials while he was from another generation. This resulted for most of my co-interns to leave earlier and look for another company for their practicum. However, I decided to stay. and luckily, it was one of the best decisions I have ever made to this date. As weeks have passed, I observed and saw that our supervisor changed the way he handled his interns considering the circumstances where a lot of interns were leaving his department. He managed to interact with us in a way that aligned with our generation and altered his training and development strategies based on our work ethics and behavior. These changes made me realise that with patience, I would eventually receive the fulfillments I have always wanted to achieve. I was able to grow and gain experience in that company, under my supervisor’s effective evaluation and supervision. 

Given the increasing population of working millenials, it is inevitable for them to interact and work with people coming from varying generations in the workplace. As a result, age gaps amongst the different generations have become evident within a workplace. This simply implies that in a company, there exists differences in their employees’ cultures--in how they behave, think, and feel. And so the main issue that millenials face at work today is the working environment. These environments, as discussed in the video, are not aligned with the values and customs of millenials which make it difficult for them to accomplish their tasks, find inspiration in their work and create meaningful relationships with their colleagues. I believe that the reasons for this growing gap between millenials and other generations are their insecurity, impatience and loneliness

Millenials are insecure

As mentioned in the video, millenials are insecure due to failed parenting strategies. Growing up, they were taught values and beliefs that made it difficult for them once they have stepped in to the real world. Likewise, they were raised believing that they could have anything they wanted, whenever they desired. Apparently, things aren’t as what they thought would be. Consequently, their entire self-image are shattered leading for them to have lower self-esteem than other generations

Millenials are impatient

Because of the growing use of technology and of the manner they were treated by their guardians or parents, millenials have been accustomed to the idea and practice of ‘instant gratification’ which, in return, have shaped them to become impatient individuals. Millenials need to understand that patience is an important characteristic that they should possess. Patience makes every little thing worth while--it creates deep and meaningful fulfillment for an individual.

Millenials are alone

Millenials are growing accustomed to the feeling of loneliness due to their addictive use of technology. People should interact with friends, family or colleagues--with human beings like them. However, millenials do not know how to make nor have deep and meaningful relationships with other people since they are given unlimited access to the internet and social media. They create and have superficial relationships which results for them to establish their coping mechanisms within their devices through social media. This, however, only creates temporary relief for their sadness, depression, and the like. More importantly, they have relationships with their devices that either destroy or hinder them from prospering with their real, human relationships.

Considering the video and the articles, I believe that the guidance of the company would be the best way for millenials to overcome the mentioned challenges and issues in the workplace. Guidance that would be facilitated through the proper construction and implementation of the company’s training and development policies and programs. As what was discussed in the materials, the current culture and behavior of millenials are mainly attributed to factors that are within (but inevitable) and beyond their control. An example would be the manner of how they were raised and trained by their parents or guardians. A factor that is beyond their control since they were just kids that did not know any better. Consequently, the most practical and effective way for them to fit in and appreciate their workplaces is through the assistance of their respective companies. In this case, the efforts to make the strategies and programs work would be met halfway by both actors. Particularly, companies should consider strategies that would both attract and keep millenials in their workplaces because these individuals do not only possess the technical skills but rather, they also hold cognitive abilities that is undeniably young and energetic. In doing so, they should develop and implement training and development strategies and programs that would cater to the tacit and explicit knowledges of the millenials. In my opinion, the main factor they should apply is OPENNESS in terms of their purpose, feedback, and the tasks:

Purpose

Employers and executives should directly communicate the purpose of their work. What would they get from working in such company and in what way would their work benefit them in terms of the impact that they could offer the greater good. They should be open and honest to the good cause that their company is serving and making. As mentioned, millenials have a certain desire and gives significance in making an impact.

Feedback

Employers and executives should consistently and continuously provide feedback based on fair and objective evaluations. In this regard, it is ideal for supervisors to be open in giving evaluations and at the same time, be open to receiving reactions or comments from the said millenials. For short, feedback should be two-way between the actors, a give-and-receive process. This could, consequently, make the millenial workforce feel appreciated in a way that they would feel that their colleagues and supervisors appreciate and acknowledge their contributions and efforts to the company.

Tasks

Employers and executives should open the operations of their workforce. It would be effective not only for the millenial workforce but for all other employees, if the workplace had open office hours and communal spaces in which tasks would be accomplished in accordance with the employees’ comfort. In this way, teamwork and communication may be practiced and transparency may be promoted amongst the employees. Consequently, the millenial workforce will be able to build relationships not just with their gadgets and their computer monitors but also, with their colleagues. Likewise, they will have much more appreciation of their work, their colleagues and the company in general.