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#I want every child to know they are worthwhile and valuable and an important part of the community no matter what
yamanaka-shin · 1 year
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🔥 (if your still dropping the tea! xD. Idk for a topic, anything I guess, shout it out!)
Last night me and Jess were talking and I subjected her to a little Mangetsu and Suigetsu rant. So, since it's the birthday of the older brother and a few days from the birthday of the younger brother, it's time I brought some words out today. Not good ones. Keep in mind, Mangetsu is damn near tied for my #1 favorite in the entire franchise. So I don't say this out of malice.
There is no point to him existing. Both as a character and as a sibling. Because we got absolutely nothing worthwhile from his existence. Sure there was the whole "oh he can use all the swords and is basically a prodigy" but we didn't even get to see any of that, now did we? Didn't even see him with his own primary weapon (Hiramekarei) in canon, had to see it in Sharingan Legend for a couple panels and I believe one of the games too. How fucking disrespectful is that?
There's at least one other Hiramekarei wielder that's not Chojuuro that we've seen too. So we can just replace Mangetsu as the strongest user of it for the Edo Tensei and miss absolutely nothing. Suigetsu doesn't even need "oh my brother died and that explains some of why my life sucks so bad" since we genuinely don't know what role Mangetsu (and his death) played there! I can assume all I want but without shit to base it on, it's all worthless. There's easily ways you can give Suigetsu a hard time that gets him caught by Orochimaru to explain everything. The story continues as normal.
And the sibling comment, well. There's plenty of characters who aren't an only child. Both by blood and otherwise. Kabuto and Sai come to mind immediately. But you also got the Sand Siblings, the Senju quartet, Madara was one of 5 for fucks sake, Naruto and Hinata have 3, Hinata herself has a sister in Hanabi. And while Madara is an interesting case cuz only 1 of his 4 other siblings is shown, at least we get valuable input from Izuna being around. Everyone else? You can make a good case for the existence of their siblings.
Take for example Urushi, Kabuto's adoptive older brother. He didn't have a big part to play but I still am moved by his presence in Kabuto's life. We didn't need to see his whole deal either. The two were together in the orphanage for a couple years and clearly bonded based on the SCENE FROM THE WAR ARC LATER WHERE NOW ADULT URUSHI SAYS HE HOPES HIS BROTHER WILL FINALLY COME HOME. and then guess what? They're back together in Boruto! Not a great fate for Kabuto, looking like Orochimaru after All That, but at fucking least he has someone important to him left.
And then no one needs me to go off about Shin in any capacity cuz by now it's clear what my feelings are. That being said, for all my bitching about the lack of info, we got a decent amount to go off of. We know their place in Sai's life and how it shaped Sai into the person we got to know in Shippuden. That is enough to justify their role as a sibling. I'm content with it.
Mangetsu? Had an opportunity to be reunited with Suigetsu in the war. I know it could have fucking been done. But no, no, nothing came of it. Because even SP didn't want to put in the effort. WE DID NOT EVEN SEE MANGETSU GET SEALED LIKE ALL THE OTHERS. HOW FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL! Legit at this point he should have just been removed from the entire narrative. You could do that and lose NOTHING.
Happy birthday beloved wet beast, you got done so goddamn dirty by canon in every way. I wish I had the ability to correct the wrongs done.
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here have a couple pieces done by Brentonsart (Twitter) who is very dear to me as compensation. I've been holding onto these a while.
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kendrixtermina · 3 years
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On the great selfishness of forced “reconcilliation”or, what’s in it for me? (A Thinkpiece)
It’s very clear and easy to see what he would get out of it: A great relief to his ego, self-image and pride. A feeling of attaining his goal. He’d no longer have to explain to himself or anyone why his daughter isn’t speaking to him. He would be more comform with the image and values he wants to attain. He would have piece of mind. 
I’m even gonna be generous and grant that he would feel happy about the connection and being able to show his love, though I personally don’t buy it. 
But what do I get? 
A common retort here tends to be that I’d get “peace of mind”, and I grant that this can be true for a person who hates conflict and feels distres from disharmony, but I am really quite comfortable with some conflict. I don’t care to be friends with everyone. I get that not everyone will like me, and I’m fine with that. 
It’s actually rather arrogant for someone to inflate their own importance to the point that they think your mentsal wholeness, hapiness and peace of mind depends wholly on themselves - like all your other relationships, your job,  your hobbies and any self-improvement efforts you might be  doing don’t matter at all. It’s jarring that anyone would think claiming that would make you forgive them, especially if your initial complaint was that they are arrogant and treated you as an extension of themselves rather than a whole person. They’re claiming that they changed and in the same breath showing that they still think your life revolves around them, that they get to have the relationship by default without ever having to build it. 
And even such a person for whom forgiveness would bring piece of mind could just forgive the person in the quiet of their own heat for their own betterment without reestablishing relations. They wouldn’t be keeping to themselves because of a grudge, but simply because there is no good reason to connect. 
Do you need a reason?
Well, if you didn’t, then you would have to connect to every single person who has not given you reason to loathe them. That’s impossible. 
Consider that there are seven billion human beings on this planet. Most of them I will never meet. I couldn’t be friends with all of them even if I wanted. We all have limited time and energy. So, I have to pick some.
And to pick all the ones who just happen to be nearby seems like leaving a very important part of your life up to randomness. Your social contacts, after all, influence what values ideas you’re exposed to and what kind of support is available to you, and what experiences and energies you invite into your life.
It makes sense to first consider your family: They’re already nearby, you get to know them very well by virtue of living together, they’re biologically programmed to get attached to you, and they are likely to have things in common with you.
So if you know nothing else, it makes good sense to assume that a family member is a good candidate for a social contact. 
But there are also family members who are NOT good choices for company. I think most of us can agree to this as a principle at least for extreme cases like rape. 
So, it’s rather like this: A family member is a good candidate for social contact unless proven otherwise. 
If we were like god who can be everywhere at once and needs nothing and never gets tired, then maybe we could be friends with everyone who is not an irreedemable sinner, but I am not god. 
Any relationship costs time and energy. Yet, this can be very worthwhile, because human relationships also have great benefits.
For a relationship to be worth keeping up, the benefits have to equal or outweigh the work. 
In our christianity-influenced culture it is still considered shameful to admit that you “want” something out of a relationship, but really, all of us do - that’s why we start and maintain relationships. Not being aware of that makes us blind.
By ‘benefits’ I don’t just mean shallow things like sex, attention or status. If you are longing for deep, meaningful experiences, that’s your benefit. If you love to give and see others thrive, that’s your benefit. 
And I don’t mean that as a clever gotcha or as some cynical assertion that all relationships are inherently transactional, but as an useful mental framework to make oneself aware of the desired end result and check if one’s actions are in accordance with that.
If you want your children to trust you, you can’t judge and humiliate them when it’s convenient because that destroys the trust that keeps them listening to you & sustains the relationship. In the book “7 habits of extraordinaryly efficient people” this is called Production vs. Production Capacity or “The Goose and the Golden Egg”. 
And don’t get me wrong, nortmally, there are great benefits to keeping in touch with your parent as an adult: 
They typically have more ressources and are more advanced in their careers, so they can help you if you’re in trouble
They might be wiser, more experienced and more mature than you, so they can give you valuable advice
And lastly, you have all the benefits you’d get from any close social bond: Companionship and emotional support. They can listen to your woes, share you joy, you can tell them your thoughts, liven up your everyday life, and they can also introduce you to new ideas and viewpoints, and motivate you to go beyond your comfort zone. What’s more, being with a loved one can give you a feeling of meaning and community all on its own. Just seeing them on its own can make you feel happy, satisfied and meaningful. They don’t even need to do anything. They might be interesting and loveable and just all around enjoyable to be around and fill your heart with warm fondness.
People who have even 1 decent parent should be aware how lucky they are compared to ppl with no parents or two unforgiveable asshat parents. Every time you spend a good time with your parent, think of all the orphans, thrown-out gay kids etc. who don’t have that. Having a nice parent who supports you well into adulthood is a cause for great gratitude. 
But now let’s look at an abusive jerk parent. 
Could I get material support? No, because it comes with a proce tag of emotional distress. You will be guilt tripped even for the baby wipes that wiped your newborn butt! Super not worth it. If I wanted to pretend to like someone for money, I would just open an onlyFans, it’d be much less stressful 
Could I get valuable advice? Is he wise? No. He is a fool. All his opinions are copypasted from rightwing websites. H e was telling us to heard hydroxy last year. Is he mature? He has the maturity of a toddler My 20 year old sister is a hundred times more mature. 
Could I get emotional support? No, you have to walk on eggshells around him
Could i share my thoughts? No. he flies into a range if anyone voices any opinion that isn’t to his liking
Could we have fun together? No. He hates my lifestyle and values, and I loathe his. I think his politics are deeply immoral and he probably thinks the same about mine. We have zero interests in common. He only ever mocked my music and interests and tried to force me into sharing his so that I now associate them with bad memories. I would never be friends with such a person normally.  I would count to ten so that O don’t waste time having pointless arguments with them on youtube comments.  He says people like me are destroying Europe and that we are lazy degenerates. And this is assuming I believe that he didnt mean all the other outrageous things hes since made flimsy pretend apologies for.  
Could I relax around him? No. I’m rather efficiently pavlov trained to associate him with pain and humiliation. Speaking to him tires me alot. It would cost me much, much more effort than any other relationship, and much time I could be spending doing useful things or interacting with people that I don’t have bad blood with & that don’t trigger emotional flashbacks with their mere presence
Would I enjoy being near him? No. He has zero traits that I like, value or enjoy. I absolutely do not enjoy being near him. I might have suffered him to touch me as I child because I was told to by my mother whom I trusted, but it was always with fear. He’s also never shown much signs of being interested in me. He would always yell at me if I entered a room and cried and whined about what a burden and a punishment I was. That is, except for making me take courses so he could then brag about having a child that does this & that, ignoring my wishes completely. In effect he brushed my real instincts and personality aside to mold me into his fantasy of having a child prodigy, exerting extreme pressure, and then humiliated and abused me when I remained a perfectly ordinary, non-genius child. 
None of the normal reasons for having a social bond is present. There are only downsides for me: I have to shut up, bottle up my feelings, play nice, censure my thoughts etc. 
I could see the point of doing that for a boss who pays me money, or to get into a social group that gets me prestige and energy, or maybe to get along with the friends and family of spouse I love and enjoy. 
But what do I get here? 
I mean, I’m not a child. I get that you sometimes have to play nice to get paid or archieve a cause. But my private relationships in my private life should be pleasurable. It’s where I go to recover from the work where fakery maybe can’t be avoided.
So why, why in the name of god would I ever chose THIS person to spend time with out of all the seven billion humans on earth? Aside from murderesrs, rapists and evil politicians, he’s probably among the worst choices. 
Obviously this “reconcilliation” could only benefit him. There is no joy for me, no benefit. It’s purely letting myself be used for his ego like he has always done for the first 20 years of my life. If he was capable of providing the benefits normally associated with having a father, he would have done so already. 
Considering that the whole problem was that he used me to fill his needs instead of thinking about my needs like a parent is supposed to, it’s insuit to injury and salt in the wounds. 
And if I wanted such benefits, I would have much better odds of getting them by trying to find a mentor, tutor, life coach, therapist,  friend etc. who is an older male. 
So why would I believe that he is changed if in the next breath he makes such a profoundly, deeply selfish request? 
If anything it shows me that he still doesn’t have the capacity to consider things from my PoV and see me as an adult independent human with logic, feelings and will. 
This is not about not wanting to make the effort. No one makes an effort for effort’s sake; They do it because something worthwhile is at the other end. 
There is nothing for me to gain here, nothing at all. 
I see the point of making an effort to salvage a once good relationship that has gotten sour because of mistakes: The hope is that you can have that good relationship once again, or even a better, more evolved version of it. 
But here there was never any good to begin with, and any hypothetical good that come in the future is questionable and dubious from past experience.
If he come then and ask, “Then what is he supposed to do then?” that would just be proof of that same objectifying mindset, that he just need to throw some coins in and out pops a relationship.
You’re just going to have to live with the consequences of your actions, just as I do every day. 
Once upon a time when I was younger, I might have said “show real interest in me”, there’s people that know me that you can ask. Heck, I’ve got an internet presence. Nowadays, I do NOT want that. I’ve learned not to let him have any information or acess about me because I’ve seen time and time again that it will just be used as ammunition to clubber me. The benefit of the doubt is fucking gone. 
But I have always believed in free will & not putting people into fixed unchangeable categories like, say, “narcissist” that give themselves easily to easy juddgement and fundamental attribution & stigmatize mentally ill people. It’s much more sensible to label behavior. 
So in the name ofintellectual integrity, I’m going to try & name something that might lead me to reconsider. Not immediately agree, because that would presuppose that he’s entitled to it somehow. Just think about it. 
It’s really pretty simple: Actually change. 
When I visit my mother and don’t have to witnesses her getting yelled at, pressured and emotionally blackmailed over the phone, when my younger sisters tell me of all the great quality time theyare spending and how much he listens and cares about their feelings, when he behaves like he understands what he did, maybe then I’ll believe. 
But as of now it seems about as unlikely to me as a giant sucker on the backside of Pluto. I can’t prove 100% it isn’t there, but it seems unreasonable to live my life assuming it exists. 
99% sure isn’t the same as 100% sure, but both those things are very different from 0%. then again its a pretty common trope of far right rhetorics to act like every degree of uncertainty is the same
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queen-scribbles · 3 years
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Ours
Here we go, only three years overdue, canon version of Tel finding out he’s a dad. :D
---
Elara was fidgeting.
It was an unusual enough sight it almost stopped Tel in his tracks. Elara Dorne--well, Airen--didn’t fidget. No matter how pleasant or unpleasant or boring the circumstances, she was the model of poise and professionalism. And she definitely. Did not. Fidget.
Except, apparently, for now. Her fingers picked at the small metallic object she held as she sat on the couch in their quarters, and she looked a hairsbreadth from bouncing her knee as well. Which meant whatever was on her mind was likely something beyond serious and should be treated accordingly.
So he swallowed any jokes he been planning and plopped down on the couch  next to her. “You wanted to talk, Els?”
“I did.” She nodded, her attention still on the object in her hands. She turned it over and over, picking at the edges.
“Must be important,” Tel hinted gently when she didn’t continue.
A wry smile pulled at one side of her mouth. “It is. Dearest...” Elara bit her lip as the words petered out, then shook her head slightly and started over. “I have... something important to discuss with you; a topic I’ve been wanting to broach since... since Iokath. With our schedules it’s proven difficult to find a good time, so I’m doing it now, whether or not it’s good, and I apologize for any meetings you may miss as a result.”
“I’m all ears,” Tel promised, reaching over to give her knee a comforting squeeze. “You’re way more important to me than any meeting.”
She mustered a smile at that, then leaned forward and placed the object she’d been fiddling with on the low table in front of the couch. It was a small holoprojector, etched with a simple design, the type made to be portable and store images long term. A brush of Elara’s thumb over the controls brought it to life.
Tel examined the pale blue image when it appeared. It was a young girl--maybe seven?--with dark hair that hung almost to her waist. She was smiling impishly, and even as a holo there was no hiding the twinkle of mischievous charm in her eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back as if trying to keep something secret just a few moments longer.
“Cute kid,” Tel said, glancing at Elara and wondering which potential direction this was going to go.
“She is,” Elara confirmed with a faint smile. “Her name is Kaira.” She reached over and laced her fingers between his. “She’s ours.”
It took half a second for her meaning to hit, and Tel flinched, grip tightening around her hand, when it did. The air seemed to freeze in his lungs for a moment as he stared at the holo.
“She...” he finally managed through the punched-in-the-gut feeling. “...Yours-and-mine ours?”
She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Are you alright, Tel?”
“Sweetheart, I’m...” A dad. I’m a dad. He gave a breathless laugh. “I’m great. A little stunned, but elated.” He freed his hand to drag her into a hug, still staring at the holo of his daughter. He had a daughter. “Weighing the pros and cons of punching Arcann in the teeth for making me miss... her, but otherwise...” A thought occurred and he frowned ever so slightly. “Did Jorgan know?”
He might be having words with the man if he had and didn’t say anything.
Elara shook her head and sat back to meet his eyes, her posture noticeably less tense. “She must have been conceived just before the Expedition was... lost” --her voice faltered for just a moment-- “and I didn’t discover I was pregnant until after the Supreme Chancellor had relieved me of my Havoc command. Jorgan and I didn’t keep in touch much past the first month or two, while he was helping me attempt to get the position back.” She smiled. “He probably wondered why I wasn’t fighting for it harder, truth be told. But between my condition and Chancellor Saresh’s obvious obstinance, it quickly became evident that was not a worthwhile fight.”
“So working for Malcolm...”
“Was actually rather perfect,” Elara confirmed the unfinished question with a nod. “I was still involved, still doing my part, but in a more administrative capacity than field work. It allowed me to... look for you and prepare for raising a child alone.”
He winced. “Sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Considering you were frozen in carbonite half a galaxy away at that point, I think I can safely say it wasn’t your fault, dearest,” she said lightly.
“And we’re back to me punching Arcann in the face,” Tel muttered, tugging her in for another hug.
“That wouldn’t really help anything at this point, darling,” Elara remonstrated, though her lips quirked toward a smile.
“Would make me feel a hell of a lot better,” he grumbled. “But I guess it wouldn’t set the best example, would it? For... Kaira.” It made him grin a little just saying her name.
She giggled faintly, the sound muffled by his shirt. “No, it wouldn’t.”
Tel rested his chin against the top of her head and gave an exaggerated huff of resignation. “Oh, fine, I won’t punch the reformed tyrant for makin’ me miss my daughter growin’ up.” He hesitated a beat, gaze back on the holo. “Els? What’s she like?”
Elara was quiet for a moment, her fingers curling into his shirt, but he could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. “She’s... wonderful. Challenging at times, but worth every moment she’s made me want to pull my hair out. She has your smile, a fact I’ve both loved and hated depending on the day.”
He hugged her closer wordlessly, shifting so the corner of the couch would offer some support.
Elara took a deep breath. “She was a good baby, for which I’m grateful. Could likely sleep through a bombing run.”
“Els.” He didn’t want to dwell on the odds that theory had been tested, knowing what the Eternal Empire had done to Coruscant.
“We’re fine. Nothing ever came close enough,” she promised, before carrying on. “She’s extremely curious, very smart-”
“She gets that from you,” Tel muttered, which earned a quiet chuckle from his wife.
“I wouldn’t sell yourself so short, dearest. You’re not a stupid man,” she said teasingly, her fingers tracing light patterns against his collarbone. 
“I was smart enough to marry you,” Tel conceded. “So I guess I’m not a total lost cause.”
“There you go, Kaira gets her smarts from both of us,” Elara laughed softly.
But more from you. Tel kept the thought to himself. “If anyone could raise a smart, amazing kid by themselves, it would be you,” he said instead.
“There you go putting me on a pedestal again,” Elara said, playful chiding in her tone.
“Again implies a point where you came down from the pedestal,” Tel rejoined.He kissed the top of her head. “You’re there for life, sweetheart.”
“Ah.” There was a smile in her voice. “Well, before you go counting up more honors for me,Tel; I did not raise her entirely on my own. I had friends who helped, and Aleksei did as well, when he could.”
“Okay, that one’s a bit of a surprise,” Tel admitted. “I thought your brother was in Republic custody?”
“He was. A ‘person of concern’, I believe was the classification; same as I once was. And then he made some valuable contributions at great personal risk in fighting the second Zakuulan assault on Coruscant, which earned him some greater freedoms. Such as lending the Republic his technical expertise and assisting me with Kaira.”
“‘Great personal risk’?” Tel repeated, having noticed how her voice caught on the phrase.
Elara gave a shaky sigh. “Let’s just say you are no longer the only person I care about who has gotten himself blown up in the course of being noble. It wasn’t quite bad enough to require cybernetics, but there was scarring. And a limp.”
Tel blew out a breath and rubbed her back. “I’m glad he’s okay, Els.”
“As am I. After recovering, he was tasked with something computer-related that kept him on Coruscant, so he could help sometimes with Kaira. A lot, actually.” She smiled again. “They’ve grown quite close. She calls him Uncle Lesky, even now that she can say his name correctly.”
Tel smiled, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Oh, yeah, she must be, what, six or seven by now?”
Elara stilled for a moment, then reluctantly slid from their hug so she could look at him. “That’s part of why I felt it so urgent to tell you; she’ll be six next week. I assumed you would want to meet her before then. So we could celebrate as a family.”
Yes. “I dunno Els,” he deadpanned with a faint smirk. “Depends on what you’ve told her about me.”
Elara matched his smirk. “Oh, you know, as we discussed; you’re brave, handsome, charming. How you took the stuffy Imperial no one liked and made me the happiest woman in the galaxy, every day we were together. That you always stood up for those who couldn’t protect themselves, and helped those who could stand their ground. That you have a ridiculous sweet tooth she apparently inherited along with your kindness. That you like to steal the blankets,” she continued playfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. “And that you always know how to make me laugh.” She paused, sighed. “How much you would love her.”
“And the fact I was declared KIA? That come up yet?” he asked dryly.
Her brow furrowed briefly, and Tel caught the flicker of pain that danced through her brown eyes. “It did, when she was three. I told her some people believed you died fighting something very dangerous to protect the galaxy, but they were wrong. You were still alive, fighting to keep us safe.” She looked him in the eye. “Because that’s what I believed, with all my heart. She accepted it--what’s the saying about mother knows best?--and it didn’t come up again. Then the Republic learned of your Alliance, and I could show her you were alive and” --she smiled drolly-- “fighting bad guys to keep us safe. I suspect she’d be very excited to hear she can finally meet you.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Tel grinned, kissing the tip of Elara’s nose. “She with your brother right now?”
Elara nodded. “She is. Whenever I’m off-planet.”
“Then hell yes, see how fast you can get ‘em out here.” He kissed her again. “I know Aleksei might not be able to stay long if he has a job to get back to, but I’d like the chance to ‘meet’ him without transparisteel and a Republic watchdog in the picture.”
A soft, giddy laugh escaped her. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as I steal you for myself just a bit longer,” she amended, leaning back into his space and bracing a hand against the arm of the couch to kiss him.
Tel grinned slyly, cupping her face with one hand and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Seventy three minutes?”
Elara smiled back mischievously and carded her fingers through his hair until her hand rested at the back of his head. “If you think we can manage that long...”
He closed the distance to capture her lips in a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’d like to see them try and stop us.”
----
They got forty seven minutes, which was frankly longer than either of them had really expected, before Tel’s comm started trilling. And so, with much grumbling about “no rest for the wicked”, he got himself together and headed off to see what the Alliance needed, leaving Elara to work out getting their daughter to Odessen.
She slipped the holo in his pocket as he headed out the door. “In case you want to show her off.”
And show her off he did; to Theron, Lana, Vette, Senya--anyone at all  who commented on the grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. He did his best not to be distracted from the Important Alliance Business that required his attention, but a man had his limits.
He slipped a hand in his pocket to curl around the cool metal as he tried to focus on Aygo’s briefing about ship deployments rather than what was (hopefully) coming soon, and smiled to himself. 
I can’t wait to meet you, Kaira.
--------------------------------
(I was originally gonna take this through Tel actually getting to meet Kaira, but that part’s getting crazy long and I need to work on other stuff that has actual deadlines, so it’ll have to wait.)
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muthaz-rapapa · 3 years
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HealPre Final Review: Not terrible but not entirely laudable either...
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*sigh* Where do I start?
Well, one thing I’m pretty sure of is that COVID definitely affected production somehow. By that, I don’t just mean the show needing to go on hiatus, resulting in a shorter run compared to previous seasons. I’m also talking about any possible changes that might’ve been made to the original narrative, if there was one.
Much like how Suite’s story had to be altered in the wake of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami disaster, I believe Heal underwent a similar treatment in response to the pandemic becoming more widespread as 2020 went on.
Especially since it dealt with health and nature, HealPre is probably the season that has come the closest in relevancy to real life events.
Frankly, that can be quite scary because this virus was and is still a fucking nightmare on a massive global scale. From that view, I can understand why the writers/producers would be concerned of the anime hitting too near home. At least for their main demographic’s (children) sake, maybe they were compelled to shift to something lighter and less edgier so that the kids could find some comfort and enjoyment in the midst of the world’s current crisis.
So I can’t fault Toei for that, if that’s really the case. Going through a pandemic is terrifying, infuriating and exhausting and UGH. We could use something that can help ease our worries or momentarily distract us even a little bit. 
Though would it have killed them to dedicate one episode to the importance of wearing a mask or washing hands? (-_- ;;)
HOWEVER! Seeing as I am not a fragile child, I’ve still got several (oho~) criticisms to air out before I put this season behind me. This review isn’t particularly scathing but...there is a lot of discontent so you’ve been forewarned.
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But first, let’s tediously review what structure means in Precure.
We all know that there are certain things that will forever (?) remain fixed in the series formula.
The plot is always going to be “magical girls fight evil doers threatening to ruin the world”.
There are plot points to indicate story progression but in reality, are put there to correspond with toy releases which are usually marked by these five: introductions, first power up, midseason Cure, second power up, and build-up to the climax + finale.
There is usually a specific message (a theme) to be told with every season and motifs (narrative tools) to aid in getting that across. For HealPre, the theme is “living is fighting” and its motifs are “health” and “nature”.
I left out “animals” b/c 1) it didn’t hold as much significance as the other two did, 2) animals are part of nature anyway and 3) let’s be real, it’s just a synonym for “mascots” which we already get every year. :P
Right. I’m probably forgetting something but for the most part, these are immovable pillars of Precure.
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Story, on the other hand, has more variables you can work with.
Story is how you tell the plot, how you convey the message.
Precure, as a tv series, is unarguably carried by its main stars, the Cures. So it only makes sense that a huge percentage of a season’s success owes itself to how much of an impact its characters had on the audience as well as how effective their individual story arcs were as sub-plots tying back to the bigger picture (the message/theme).
Ideally, these arcs would shine the brightest in the filler episodes, where the plot  (“good guys vs. bad guys”) is less of a focus so there is more space for personal development and growth.
Also, not all character arcs have to be directly related to the plot but they ought to be written well in order to support the overarching message (the theme).
Now, has HealPre done that? Has each girl’s story demonstrated a good example of what “living is fighting” means?
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...nnnnnnyyeeee... look, even I can’t give a straightforward answer on that because while technically they did, by virtue of Nodoka’s observance in ep 44 recounting it as such, there’s also actually not enough to make it feel substantial from a viewer’s standpoint.
At least, that’s what I thought while watching HealPre.
With the exception of Nodoka’s, there was a lot of saying but not much doing to convincingly back the other girls’ arcs up. The fillers themselves were very weak, loosely composed in relation to the motifs and, if I may be so blunt, downright boring that if Nodoka didn’t phrase those episodes as things that counted towards the theme, I probably would put up more of a fight on disagreeing. so shoot me, I’m soft for her :P
And I know that sounds confusing right now but I will elaborate as I continue.
Before that though, to be utterly fair, some seasons keep their respective themes shrouded in vagueness until they’re given a more concrete form in words around the finale. So it’s not like we can do much except make educated guesses on what they really are. Most of the time, we’re just measuring everything against our perception of a standard in the fog. Or maybe that’s just me?
Nevertheless, you can just tell, y’know? By simply watching and observing the whole show, you can tell if the characterization, the development, and the outcome (essentially the content given) really live up to what the season claims is endgame.
So let’s go through that first then. The characters, starting with our lead Cure...
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Nodoka being the only Cure in her team to have an arc deserving of the praise “exceptional” should come as a surprise to no one.
She was the most solid in terms of direction on how her story was going to proceed. Out of all the girls, her journey had the greatest connection to the subject “health”, repeatedly delved into it every time the spotlight was on her and fulfilled everything it seemed to promise from her debut in episode 1.
Her struggles on the road to recovery from a long-term illness and the strength she’s drawn from that traumatizing experience as well as her time as Precure did more than establish her as the strongest character in HealPre.
She has also rose to become one of the most memorable Pink Cures in the entire franchise (personally, I rank her in the top 5).
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And it’s not hard to see why she’s earned such high regard in a lot of fans’ hearts.
The writers clearly worked a lot on her character composition to the point where she can pretty much embody the theme of “living is fighting” all on her own.
She came into HealPre fresh out of the hospital and full of earnest desire to make the most of her newfound freedom but she also wasn’t without knowledge on what hardship is. From there, she only got stronger, even when she was stumbling and trying to figure things out along the way. She grew more fortified in her beliefs on what it means to be truly live a healthy life.
She bravely defied the ones who attempted to take advantage of her and twist her cause against her. And she learned that taking care of herself is equally as important as wanting others to be safe from harm.
It was never about winning or coming out on top. It was about protecting a fundamental yet precious truth. That one thing any decent human being should never have to concede: the right to live well.
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Honestly, Nodoka is absolutely inspiring all around, as a fictional character, a heroine and a normal everyday person.
Everything about her arc went satisfyingly right like it was meant to and the best thing is, we don’t need to question it because we saw how it all happened with our very own eyes.
I sincerely wished I could say the same for the others but sadly, they were just too flawed.
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And Pegitan can throw flippers with me all day if he wants but as undeniable as the above statements are about Chiyu, her arc failed to leap over the increasingly mounting disappointment I had with every episode that’s been assigned solely to her.
Two of which weren’t even about Chiyu. One centered on Pegitan’s admiration for his partner and the other focused on her brother, Touji. Which, while nice to give to supporting/secondary characters, is a fat waste of valuable screentime and not what I’m here for.
It also didn’t help that the conflict of her arc (the indecision over choosing between two dreams) started really late in the game and was resolved so quickly within two episodes. There was no time for me to get invested into it, there was no powerful sense of conviction like how Go!Pri or Hugtto handled theirs and really, it just felt like Chiyu was only following what the script dictated for her rather than genuinely awakening to her own competitive passion towards track and field.
It was almost like it didn’t matter. Almost as if the writers procrastinated in thinking up something worthwhile to further her development...but then settled on grabbing an old idea off the shelf without refining it to suit Chiyu when they ran out of time.
This happened similarly with Minami in Go!Pri and Elena in StarPre, both of whom left me angry at how their arcs were executed. Yet theirs don’t compare to how pissed off I am about Chiyu’s. Because while Minami’s took a while to arrive, it wasn’t done poorly and linked back to Go!Pri’s theme well enough. And while Elena’s was over crammed last minute, at least it was unique to her character and had lots of potential ways to play out if they actually started it earlier on in StarPre.
Chiyu’s arc is like a discount version of the former with hardly any of the intriguing qualities of the latter. Sure, she had two early episodes that laid out the two most important aspects of her life (her family inn and her dedication to her sport) but after that, they weren’t brought up again until we were only weeks away from the ending. Y’know, just to fill up episode slots and meet the minimal requirement of saying they did give Chiyu some issue to resolve. 
It was not engaging at all.
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Furthermore, the fact that her arc had very little to no relation with either “health” or “nature” hurt my appreciation of her character somewhat. I just...don’t think her kind of story really matches with the central topics of HealPre?
...but maybe I’m being bitter about this all wrong and that’s screwing up my rational thinking on this matter.
Because Chiyu’s arc is valid under the logic of the overall theme, I would never say it isn’t. And again, character arcs don’t have to be close to the plot nor is it necessary to employ the “suffering builds character” method to make them interesting.
Chiyu always does her best every day. That’s sufficient argument on why her story does fit within the frame of HealPre’s premise.
Guess I’ll just have to wrangle my resistance into acceptance somehow.
...still, her arc could’ve been done so much better than what we were given. Chiyu at least deserved that much.
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Next, Hinata.
Since the beginning, I knew she was gonna be runner-up to Nodoka for having the (for lack of better term atm) “best” arc because it was heavily implied that she has ADHD and therefore, immediately checked off the “health” trait. She was even more obvious about it than Nozomi was.
Difficulty paying attention, hyperactivity, impulsiveness. Hinata didn’t just display all those signs, she also showed how hard it was for her to deal with the downsides to them on a regular basis.
She kept apologizing and put herself down excessively for inconveniencing her friends even though they never blamed her for her condition. Got them annoyed a few times, yes, but didn’t stop them from staying friends with her and definitely didn’t make them hate her either.
Everybody was understanding of Hinata...except Hinata because she always took her failures to heart and considered quitting several times to avoid the crushing dejection of making mistakes over and over again.
She got better, though, and no one could have summed it up more heartwarmingly than Nyatoran with the encouraging words he gave her at the conclusion of her arc. 
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But it still feels like there’s a huge chunk of development missing between the start and finish. Or rather, it seemed like all of it occurred offscreen and we were only informed later that it did in fact, happen.
To recap, iirc, Hinata had around 5 episodes that focused on her (ep 9, 13, 23, 35 and 40). Ep 18 doesn’t count because that was a Nyatoran-centric filler more than anything.
Ep 9 and 13 did their jobs of introducing and highlighting the details of Hinata’s troubles while also suggesting she will eventually learn to overcome her insecurities. The ones after, though? They pushed those issues to the backseat.
In Ep 23, she had to share the (uneven) spotlight with Asumi. Hinata’s improvements were briefly mentioned but the majority of the ep went to teaching Asumi what “cute” meant and how to get along with puppies. I mean, I get that Asumi recently joined the group and bonding with her was mandatory by tradition. But since each Cure only gets a limited number of eps to herself, it would’ve been more beneficial for Hinata if she didn’t have to split screentime with someone else’s growth schedule.
Ep 35 is slightly better but not by a whole lot. Sure, Natasha was able to reconcile with Elizabeth which was very sweet and heck, it was the goal for that episode. But again, nothing was really done or addressed about Hinata’s main conflict. She tossed it back with the rest of her homework to deal with later. ahaha, a TroPre hint
Then ep 40 came to formally close the curtains on her story and apparently, Hinata screwed up lots of times since...whenever but she picked herself up every time after and kept on trying. Awesome. So WHY didn’t we get to see that? 
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I’m not asking for the impossible here. I’m not asking for Hinata to be cured or anything miraculous like that. There is treatment available for ADHD but it is not curable.
Also, forcing Hinata to find a way to get better at studying, the thing she struggles with the most, is not the solution either because that would only make her more stressed and anxious over her own disorder.
What I want is to see how she moved from wailing “I can’t do it! I don’t wanna! I’m so scared of failing so why bother?!” to determinedly declaring “So what if I failed 1 or 100 times? So what if I fail another 1000 times? What matters is that I don’t let that stop me!”
That confidence is not something that can be built up overnight. It’s gradual and it takes numerous tries to reach from where Hinata was to where Hinata is now.
Telling me she grew emotionally stronger can only allow me to believe so much. I need to actually witness the changes as well.
If it weren’t for that, Hinata’s arc would have been a lot more impressive. Shame.
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Finally............... Asumi.
Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi, Asumi... *sighs & drums fingers*
...she has no arc, ok? Seriously, what story is there to speak of, much less write a hefty analysis on?
A spirit born for the sake of Latte who just went along with the Precure ride because Latte didn’t want to abandon her duty. She made friends with those who aren’t Latte, extended her knowledge and understanding and gained valuable human experience during her stay on Earth. But ultimately, she will always define her entire existence around a puppy. 
Nothing is more important than this puppy.
...... to be honest, Asumi not having a storyline isn’t what bothers me. It’s her lack of depth that does.
Hell, even the giant burger she ate had more depth than she did!
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Oh, Asumi does have a personality alright. She’s consistently and unfailingly polite, utterly devoted to her raison d’être and in crucial moments, gives pearls of wisdom when the girls are in a pinch. She’s good.
But if that’s all she is, then she’s also painfully dull.
She has nothing to contribute to the discussion of health or nature, despite being created through an element of the Earth so you’d think she’d have an opinion of her own. At least worry about the planet that gave life to her as much as she frets over Latte all the time. But nope.
She shares the exact same face as Teatine’s past Precure partner so you’d think we’d explore that connection to see if it would influence or affect her in any way. But nope.
90% of the time, her role was just being Latte’s constant, fawning satellite.
Not only did that irritate the hell out of me but it just reinforced my stance that this type of character is one of the worst you can ever insert into any narrative.
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Because if someone keeps reiterating how much they’re obsessed with this one thing and seldom talks about anything else without bringing their obsession into it... then what’s so special about them on their own?
You’ve practically surrendered the different qualities you could have had for worship of something else. That’s not a fair trade-in.
Asumi’s character is so packed with Latte-related stuff that there’s not much space left for anything that can be considered uniquely Asumi.
I mean, maybe it’s because I can never see myself or any normal person comfortable with living like that.
Living for the sake of being together with the one you love? Okay. But living with your whole universe revolving around that one thing? Making most if not all decisions based on this one thing?
No. That’s absolutely crazy, alright? Nobody with a healthy amount of awareness and self-worth would live like that.
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And you can counter that Asumi’s just born like that. That she can’t help her origins because Teatine’s wish to protect her daughter is essentially what brought Asumi into existence so of course, her biggest concern would be Latte. At least, she wasn’t forced into it, right? As long as Asumi chose of her own will to follow Latte, it should be fine, right?
You can even use the fact that Asumi isn’t human. That she’s a spirit and we shouldn’t apply our human standards too strictly to her.
Yea, but those are feeble defenses in the face of her being a good main character, a good main heroine. 
There are many ways to make a decent MC. The way Asumi was written proves she certainly does not possess traits that can classify her as true protagonist material. A protagonist has to be more than one amplified feature, which Asumi is not.
For the record, I don’t hate Asumi (she’s not interesting enough to generate a feeling that intense). I'm just severely let down because even if I don’t end up loving the midseason Cure for whatever reason, I can usually count on them to bring something intriguing to the table to dissect and analyze. At least I should find something to care about them.
Didn’t happen with her. :(
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Oh god, I’ve been working on this post for days now and I’ve got a headache and with the baton pass happening in less than a few hours as I type this, I just really need to get it done and over with so please forgive me for speeding up through the rest, I’ll try to keep it as coherent as possible. NYARGH! (@_@ ;;)
Mascots.
Would you be surprised to hear that I’m not surprised that they were actually written very well?
Like I said early on, I suspected the return of fairy partnerships were going to improve the mascots’ significance in the story and, well, I was right. 
This time, they didn’t just fill in the usual expectations of relaying exposition, serving as the Cures’ transformation devices and looking cute for the merchandise. The Healing Animals had to make progress on their own training to become doctors as well.
And they did through their relationships with their human partners.
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It was a refreshing take on the mascot aspect of the series because the friendships felt really symbiotic. When the trainees arrived on Earth, they relied on the girls to help them perform their jobs as well as provide them with shelter, food, the occasional peptalk about their trainee status, etc.
Then as the story continued and they got to know each other better, the mascots were able to return the favor by giving support when the Cures needed it. Rabirin when Nodoka was frightened and confused about how to deal with Daruizen, Pegitan when Chiyu was having trouble choosing between two dreams and Nyatoran who made sure to always lift Hinata’s spirits up when she got upset at herself.
In short, they achieved their objectives of learning what it means to be good doctors by being there for their friends! How wonderful! :D
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My memory for Latte is hazy, unfortunately, since she’s coddled by everyone all the time (can’t blame them, she’s friggin’ adorable! <3) but I’ll never forget how she stood firm on the battlefield to see things through, to fight for the Earth like she promised her mother. She started out so babie but showed us all there was enormous bravery behind her cute face and ugh, we should all be very proud of her! <3
The only major issues I had about the mascots were these:
1) Too many irrelevant fillers went to them. They only needed a maximum of two for their entire mascot group.
2) Latte kept getting sick even after she acquired a Precure partner of her own. I was hoping it wouldn’t hurt her as much as it did before Asumi arrived or that she would build up a stronger immunity but noooo, they insisted on torturing the poor pupper! T_T
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Villains + Finale Battle
Not a lot needs to be said for the first part. We’ve had mediocre antagonists before. HealPre’s just happened to be extra annoying as they were despicable. 
Which is worse because jerks you can just leave in the trash but assholes won’t stop harassing you unless you pummel them into their graves, set fire to their corpses and leave no trace of them behind! >:(
Y’all know who I’m talking about. Opinions on him continue to vary depending on who you talk to and if they’re avid fans of his face or not but whatever. The son of a bitch served his purpose and is dead now. That’s all that matters to me.
Anyway, the King was flat like his two lesser generals. He was neither intimidating nor distinguished enough in the brand of evil to really make us think of him as a serious threat and because of that, it ended up making the boss fight look like any run of the mill boss fight.
I know, they tried so hard with all that shiny animation but it just didn’t have that glorious sense of vindication that previous seasons (or ep 42) gave and I blame it all on this Rumiko Takahashi reject.
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Also, this strategy was pretty useless?
They built it up like Earth was gonna sacrifice herself and die or something (she wouldn’t and even if she came close, deus ex machina would’ve kicked in to prevent that and COVID-induced caution too I guess). 
But there were no signs of pain (well, that’s a relief) after absorbing Shindoi-ne and they really pissed King Byogen off more than they did any damage with the absorbed byo-gen power.
...so yea, this tactic was just to kill some time and budget, nothing more. Meh.
By the way, did Asumi eject Shindoi-ne’s pathogen out of her body yet or did they just leave it in there to bounce around until it eventually dissolves on its own?
Because that’s eww. I mean, it’s obviously not gonna hurt Asumi they can both relate on hyperfocusing their affection for someone so maybe the compatibility helps :P but still, ewwwww.
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Fillers + Underused Motifs
In hindsight, perhaps HealPre didn’t exactly promise the content we I wanted about “health” and “nature” if their objective was to teach that any manner of “fighting” can count towards “living”.
......but fuck you Toei, you’re still cowards! >:/
Fillers will be fillers but it’s always better to try and make some of them as meaningful as possible. And they wasted the opportunity to inform an impressionable audience (during a very crucial period of our time, I must add) on a lot of things related to the HealPre’s motifs. Especially about the environment which for some ridiculous reason, they chose not to touch on for the main stretch of the overall story.
Proper hygiene, good diet plan and sleeping habits, regular exercise (already done by the girls a few times but could use another example), meditation, counseling/therapy (especially for mental health!), etc.
Real life pollution, climate change/global warming (IMPORTANT!!), deforestation, preservation vs conservation, endangered species, recycling, volunteering to clean up your community, etc.
These just came off the top of my head but yes, there’s more and no, I’m not saying that the writers need to cover all of them in extreme detail or replace the slice-of-life episodes.
But they should be able to mesh both serious and light-hearted together in harmony somehow. Like those fillers where the mascots saw people cleaning up littering at the park or that interaction with that arborist who taught them about wild animals and trees when the group went to visit a lake.
For health, maybe let the girls visit patients with chronic illness in the hospital or have them converse with a medical professional on some matter. Particularly if it’s got something to do with mental illness because stigma in Japan on those who are afflicted with such conditions is still prevalent and has caused a number of sad and shocking tragedies that could have otherwise been avoided if people didn’t have such outdated, judgmental mindsets.
That last part might be too dark for a children’s anime but there’s a lot more out there that is doable.
Do that without reducing it into a footnote, Toei. It is so necessary for your target audience to be aware of these issues at the age they are now. You have an almost 20-year old franchise to serve as a very effective platform. Make better use of it if you truly care about the message you’re conveying through your show!
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Also, what the fuck.
The last episode was a mess. Why are you only mentioning this now when the season is already over?
This should’ve been brought up months ago!
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All the things we could’ve seen the Cures done to protect the Earth without magic.
The excuse of “I didn’t know humans were so horrible!” is a shit one because everybody knows humans are deplorable trash when it comes to abusing the Earth. All the more reason why you have to persistently drill it into people’s heads that they should not be like those who don’t care or choose not to care.
One crack episode isn’t going to cut that.
God, I so want to unsee this ep just so I don’t have to end HealPre on a more sour note than it already was. *big aggrieved sigh*
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Lastly (and this really is the end of my long ranting, I promise), the missing undisclosed lore.
There are few Precure seasons without a past lore of its own in the recent years. Is it a wonder, though?
Lore is mysterious and fascinating. If it involves a past Precure, even more so.
Sometimes fans might just hang onto a show because they’re curious about what happened before the main story. We’d never get the full tale of those adventures but at least, it’s fun to imagine the “prequel”.
Also, past Precure are just badass. Fact.
Strangely enough, we didn’t get that for Heal. All we know is that she was called “Fuu” and was very close to Teatine. 
Hmm. Probably one of those changes caused by COVID interference cuz I can’t imagine the writers choosing not to tell her past in the original draft.
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With all that finally off my chest, I’m ready to part ways with you girls until the next All Stars (Nodoka, I’m gonna miss you so much! T_T)
HealPre wasn’t the worst and it was nowhere near the best that it had the potential to be. But it’s passable. At least for those who loved it even with its flaws, I’m genuinely glad it was good for you.
For those who are thinking about picking it up (although why you would read this spoilery post before watching, I have no idea), if you’re looking for a standard magical girl anime to enjoy casually, then this is a safe pick. If you really want to invest your attention and heart into it, though? Then perhaps it would be in your interest to ask someone who saw it already to help you filter out the episodes that are worth watching. You don’t need to worry about the rest, they’re inconsequential. :P
Ok then! Thanks for reading as always, brave souls who have reached this point. 
Stay healthy and safe out there and I’ll see you at the beach next week! Tropic underwater paradise here we coooooommmmmeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!! xDDD
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Someone on Twitter said that Meghan's engagements should count more than Charles and Anne's combined, because she has more impact. Though I agree, that she gets more media attention I wonder if the impact for the organizations involved should count more. That's why I am here, because as a foreigner I always see stories about Meghan and Catherine, but it's usually about their personal lives or clothes. We rarely see anything about their patronages. (1/3)
(2/3)We don't hear a lot about Anne, but usually the focus of her stories are the places she's visiting. I am not trying to diminish Catherine or Meghan's work. But I don't think they are really more impactful than Charles and Anne. Because Charles, for example had been interested in environment for more time than they are alive. Anne seems quite passionate about her work (well, as much passionate as she can look, obviously). I think internationally speaking the young royals get more attention (3/3) But attention doesn't mean money, and the patronages might enjoy more Instagram followers, but at the end of the day they need money to survive. Raising awareness and shedding a light are cute for Social Media, but does the impact of the young royals are really bigger than the impact of Charles, Anne or the Wessex? That's my ask. Sorry about writing a damn essay and I hope I explained myself well. I am not sure, because I am from South America, English is not my native language.
You don’t have to apologise at all and you explained yourself very well! I think you’ve hit on some really great points. As someone working in the charity sector, there are a lot of misconceptions I see when it comes to the royals. I think I’ll probably end up making less sense than you with my reply as I have lots of thoughts haha.
Money 
Public donations- charities need and want money more than anything. We can’t do anything without it. As much as people might like to suggest otherwise, patronages and connections to royals do not bring about huge public donations over a prolonged period of time. I would say that the royal influence on the public donating to charities is negligible no matter which royal it is. The difficulty with it is that you also can’t track it. No one asks “did you donate because we have a royal patron” so there’s no way to know definitively or in a way that we could compare from royal to royal
High net worths- this is easier to track and much more lucrative for charities. These gala events that royals often get criticised for attending are important fundraisers. A charity can easily make half a mill in one night. Some raise more. William attended a gala for Jewish Care that raised £1 million. People do pay more to go to events where the royals are present and those who get to sit on the same table as the royal are likely to give major gifts as a result, in my experience. But again, it’s difficult to track impact. You would probably have to look at an event the charity hosted with no royal attendance vs with royal attendance to see if there’s a standard uplift that comes with their presence
Community fundraising- The Cambridges and Harry (maybe Meghan now, I don’t know) award London Marathon places to all of their patronages. The number varies from year to year but most patronages wouldn’t have these places otherwise so this is an easy to track, concrete thing that is their impact. Something like the Regatta would also apply here, as would Meghan’s projects with the Hubb and Smart Works. 
Trusts and Foundations- the easiest thing to track is when a charity set up by a royal gives a grant or donation to another organisation. However, there’s a lot of politics that goes on behind the scenes. Charities may not be that interested in the project itself but know that they should accept the money so a restricted grant is not always a welcome thing. Another thing to note is that unless the royals are Trustees of the organisation they are not in control of where funds are awarded by law so it’s not technically their impact anyway. Or for something like the Prince’s Trust, that was set up by Charles but he doesn’t do the day to day work. Is it really his impact now?
Awareness
People seem to confuse awareness with exposure. I remember talking to the Comms people at my work and they were explaining how a royal visiting our organisation and getting coverage in every major outlet in the UK and the US was worth less to them than one article in the Times Education Supplement (TES), the bible for teachers. Because the general population who read royal articles is not always your target market for a start and if it is, it doesn’t mean anyone took action as a result of seeing the coverage or that attitudes changed. So if people want to use this then totting up headlines is not going to be a good indicator of actual awareness raised. Which brings me to..
What is Impact?
I spend almost every day agonising over this in my job. Part of my role is assessing our impact and I have to regularly report on it to funders. It’s a constant pain in the ass because outputs are not impact. So for example let’s take Kate’s Mentally Healthy Schools website. You could say that 100,000 people have viewed the website this year (I have no idea if that’s right, I’m just picking a random number to illustrate). That is an output. That is something you have achieved. But it isn’t impact. Impact is the difference that happens as a result of your work that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. A teacher using the resources from the website in the classroom or in their practice would be impact. A child feeling more supported in school because their teacher is better equipped would be impact. Hits are not impact. Or to use Meghan’s Smart Set programme, the number of garments given to the charity is an output. The number of women who then go on to have successful interviews as a result of those garments is the impact. And impact is sooooo hard to measure. Outputs are easy, you can report on that until the cows come home. Assessing impact is truly really difficult. 
How do we decide what impact is more worthwhile? To use the example of Meghan and Kate, although I am loathe to compare them. Meghan’s work tends to be short term projects with easy to measure outputs which target a small group of people intensely. Kate’s tend to be long term projects with harder to measure outputs which target a larger group of people in a more light touch way. So the Hubb kitchen was hugely successful and I think it was a brilliant idea which Meghan clearly put a lot of work into, but it targets a small group of women. Is that intense support for a small group more or less valuable than something like Mentally Healthy Schools which has been accessed by thousands of teachers across the country but is much more hands off? I personally think they are both extremely valuable but in totally different ways. And that’s fine. We don’t need to compare them, we can’t compare them accurately! And it’s not very encouraging to hear people who know fuck all about your sector saying that your work is less valuable- because this work is not delivered by the royals themselves, it’s delivered by real people- because they’ve decided your impact for you
So basically while I do agree that royals need to be better at talking about impact I think that deciding that one person’s engagements count more is incredibly difficult to back up with evidence and really unhelpful to the charity sector
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ashe/byleth
c-s support + paired endings + night of the ball
c
Ashe: Phew—shopping took longer than I thought. It's a good thing I had your help, Professor! A: Looks like we've got everything we came for. Time to head back to the monastery. A: To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if the money that knight gave us would be enough. A: We managed to scrape by though! I'm glad those shopkeepers were willing to strike a few bargains.
>Thanks to your bartering skills.
>You are quite the shopper.
A: It's one of the few things I'm really good at. I've got a lot of experience living in the city. A: Money was tight for me too. At least until a kind noble adopted me into his family. (other) A: Money was tight for me too. At least until Lonato adopted me into his family. (blue lions route) A: Come to think of it, you were originally a mercenary, weren't you? I'm sure you've traveled all over Fódlan. A: That must have been a pretty different life from regular folks like me.
>Not so different, actually.
A: Huh, you think so?
>You're probably right.
It sounds a lot more exciting though, traveling the world, from conflict to conflict!
But a mercenary's whole job is fighting, isn't it? Must be a pretty tough way to live.
>It was pretty tough.
A: I believe you. I can imagine!
>It wasn't so bad.
A: Wow, I guess you must get used to it. That's really incredible though.
A: Ah! A: I had no idea they sold this book around here! I haven't seen this one for ages!
>What's the book?
A: Loog and the Maiden of Wind. It's a well-known tale of chivalry in Faerghus. A: L-Loog is the King of Lions. This book is full of his exciting adventures! A: I've loved this since I was a kid! It was what got me learning to read. NPC: Gimme that book! A(?): Hey, creep! Don't touch the merch! NPC2: What the-?! Somebody catch that thief! Cut him in half, like my prices! A: Please... Calm down, ma'am. NPC2: You calm down, kid! If he gets away with that valuable merch, it'll be a huge loss for me! A: Here, allow me to compensate you.
>Are you sure about that, Ashe?
NPC2: Huh? Are you serious, kid? I mean, no objections over here, but that sounds crazy. A: Don't you worry. That thief will be paying me back, just as soon as I catch him. A: Head on back to the monastery, Professor. I'll take care of everything here!
>...
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b
A: Hey, Professor! Did I ever tell you what happened with that thief?
>Thief?
A: You know, the book thief we encountered in town.
>No, you didn't.
A: I went after him, and I did manage to catch up, but...
>He escaped?
A: Oh, no, I captured him easily. I'm pretty quick on my feet, you know!
A: But I decided not to make him pay for the book.
>You couldn't get him to pay for the book?
A: Sort of. I actually decided not to make him pay for it.
A: My pockets were pretty empty after that incident, if you want to know the truth. A: What happened was, when I caught him, I asked him why he stole the book. A: He said he thought it would fetch a good price, and that he really needed the money. A: He had a sick kid, and couldn't pay for medicine.
>Sounds like a lie to me.
>He didn't look old enough to have children.
A: Maybe you're right. A: But if he really did have a sick child, that would be a matter of life and death. A: A little money is nothing compared to that. I'd rather believe a lie than risk someone's life if I'm wrong. A: And to be completely honest, there was a time when I wasn't so different from him.
>You were a thief?
A: It was a long time ago, and I've put all that behind me now, but yes. I was. A: My parents died of illness, so I had to provide for my little brother and sister. A: I did my best to earn money for them legitimately, but I wasn't able to bring home enough. A: So I turned to thieving. From people on the streets. From shops. Even from soldiers. A: I knew it was wrong, but seeing my brother and sister's smiling faces made me too happy to stop.
>I can't imagine what that must have been like.
A: It was definitely wrong. A: I really regret that part of my life. I was stupid. A: But shortly after I turned nine, I crept into a local noble's mansion, aiming to steal whatever I could get my hands on. A: The noble had all sorts of valuables, but what really caught my eye was a book with a fancy cover. A: That book was Loog and the Maiden of Wind. The knight in the illustrations was so impressive, I just couldn't tear my eyes away.
>You stole it because you liked the cover?
A: Well, that was part of it. But certain books are also really valuable, you know.
>Go on.
A: You probably see where this is going. Moments after I grabbed the book, I was caught in the act by the noble. A: And that noble was none other than Lonato. A: But Lonato was incredibly kind. Without asking any questions, he gave me the book—and money too. A: When I told him I couldn't read, he invited me into his mansion, along with my brother and sister. He taught me how to read, personally. A: So with the thief I caught in town, I was trying to do the same thing. To be like Lonato. A: I want to make up for the bad things I've done. To leave this world better than I found it. A: That's why, even if it wasn't easy on my pockets, I'm proud to say I helped him.
>Are you sure you did the right thing?
>Isn't that a little self-indulgent?
A: I know what you're trying to say. A: My contribution probably won't change much. A: And it's not like I have the money to help everyone who's suffering from poverty. A: Even so—I can't bear to stand by and do nothing. A: What else could I have done, Professor?
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a
A: Oh! Hey, Professor!
>You're chipper as ever.
>Something going on?
A: Actually I ran into that thief while I was shopping just now!
>Thief?
A: Maybe you don't remember. It's been quite a while. The man who stole the book from that market stall. A: I saw him on the street, with his kid. They were both so grateful. A: It's a really nice feeling.
>I'm glad it all worked out.
Yeah! But, ah...
A: It did seem like they were still having trouble getting by. I guess what you said to me back then was right. A: My actions didn't really solve the problem. I can't help everyone, no matter how much I try. A: If I had the money or power, maybe...but I don't.
>You'll get there. No need to rush.
A: You know, a long time ago, Lonato said nearly the same thing to me. A: I think it was when I tried to look after the horses all on my own. I really messed that up. A: He said, "You're not quite ready for this yet. But there's no need to rush." A: I know I can't help very many people right now. A: But I think doing what I can for those I see in front of me is still worthwhile. A: I have to believe that, at least.
>That's a fine way to look at it.
>That's just like you, Ashe.
A: Thanks. That's reassuring to hear. A: What about you, Professor? Has anything been troubling you lately? A: I'd be happy to help, as long as it's not looking after horses. You might not want to trust me with that!
>Nothing in particular has been bothering me, no.
A: Hey, don't be that way! There's got to be something. It doesn't have to be serious.
>Why? Do I look troubled?
A: I genuinely enjoy helping people. It's a great feeling, making someone smile. A: So if there's anything I can do for you, I want to do it. Because I care about you.
>You care about me, huh?
A: I do! It's probably because you remind me so much of Lonato.
A: Ah, I...didn't mean it in a romantic way. I just really look up to you!
>That's really kind.
A: You think so? It's just what anyone would do, really!
A: So, what'll it be? How can I help?
>Just chat with me a while longer.
A: Happy to, if that's what you'd like!
>Want to help me cook?
A: Of course! I'd be glad to cook with you!
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A: Professor! So, this is where you went off to. A: You've been working so hard, you deserve a break. Is there any way I can lighten the load?
>You're already a big help.
A: Maybe, but I'm sure there's more I could do.
>Don't worry about me.
A: Easier said than done! Anyone can tell you're pretty worn out. It's practically written on your face.
A: You need all the rest you can get. It's only going to get more hectic from here. A: Even I'm tired, and I haven't done nearly as much. It's been a long struggle.
>Indeed, it has.
A: Yeah...
>It's all happened so fast.
A: Really? At times I felt like the war would never end.
A: So many people have died. And far too many of them were civilians. A: But with the state we're in now, it might actually be the survivors who have it hardest. A: I want to help them. Like Lonato helped me. A: And now that I'm a knight, I feel like I actually can. A: Together, we can do anything. A: Let's take care of ourselves too. A: Definitely! When I'm by your side, I'm full of hope for the future. A: And on that note...there's something I've been meaning to give you.
>This is...
A: I want to be with you for the rest of my life. A: I want to be there for every important moment. Every smile. Every hardship. A: I know I'm just a commoner and nothing special. A: I know I don't have a Crest or a prestigious family legacy. And I've done things I'm not proud of. A: But if you'd be willing to look past all that...I also know we'd be great together.
>You mean...
A: Yes! Sorry, I'm...I'm struggling for the right words. A: It's funny. I've rehearsed this so many times. A: But when the moment actually came, it all just ran right out of my head. A: What I mean to say is... I love you and I want to marry you.
>I feel the same way.
A: You have a ring for me too?! Am I dreaming? A: You really feel the same way about me... A: Sorry, I'm kind of giddy. This doesn't feel real. A: To go from a life of stealing on the streets, to marrying a wonderful person like you... A: Am I even allowed to be this happy? I'm worried it could all come crashing down at any moment.
>I guess it could.
A: Even so, as long as we're together, I think I can handle just about anything.
>Don't be.
A: You're right. We should enjoy what we have, for as long as we have it.
A: I'm looking forward to our future. A: I know I have my shortcomings, but I promise you I'll do everything I can to make you happy!
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paired endings
When Byleth ascended the throne of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, Ashe served the new leader faithfully—first as a knight and aide, and later as a husband. The queen, with help from the Church of Seiros, put much toward the rebuilding effort with particular attention paid to relief for orphans in the form of food, beds, and even schooling. It is said that these compassionate deeds were all Ashe's suggestions, but the modest knight always gave the credit to his beloved wife. (golden deer + church route)
When Byleth became the new archbishop of the Church of Seiros, Ashe served her faithfully—first as a knight and aide, and later as a husband. With help from Faerghus, the archbishop put much toward the rebuilding effort with particular attention paid to relief for orphans in the form of food, beds, and even schooling. It is said that these compassionate deeds were all Ashe's suggestions, but the modest knight always gave the credit to his beloved wife. (blue lions route)
Byleth and Ashe, after seeing the war through to its end, continued the fight against those who slither in the dark. Supporting one another through that long, hard fight grew their love until they became totally inseparable. When the fight was finally done, they departed together on a journey to heal the world, one person at a time. No records exist of their journey, but the legend of this loving and charitable couple lives on in folktales. (black eagles route)
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night of the ball
A: Professor! Did you come up here for a rest too?
>That's right.
A: I guess we think along the same lines. I was feeling kind of worn out.
>Actually, I was looking for you.
A: For me? Oh! I'm so sorry to put you out of your way!
A: I was just kind of worn out from all of the excitement. I am enjoying the ball, but it's a bit much, you know? A: Everyone else seems used to this kind of thing, but I've never been to anything like it before. A: My friends did teach me a bit about proper manners and how to dance, but I still feel out of place. A: Stepping on girls' feet, messing up the pretty floral decorations... Haha, I've been a bit of a disaster. A: Sometimes I wonder if it's even right for someone like me to be in a place like this.
>I feel that way sometimes too.
A: Really? You do? That's kind of reassuring!
>You have every right to be here.
A: You're right, of course. I'm a student at the Officers Academy, just like everyone else.
A: Lonato was kind enough to send me here. I need to live up to his expectations. A: By the way, have you heard the stories about the Goddess Tower? A: They say that if a man and a woman make a wish together here, the goddess will make it come true.
>What would you wish for?
A: Oh, never mind me. I'd like to know what you'd wish for!
>Let's make a wish together, then.
A: My thoughts exactly! Do you have anything in particular you'd like to wish for?
>My wish is...
A: Your wish is?
>For your wish to come true, Ashe.
A: What? My wish? W-well, um...let me think.
>I can't think of anything.
A: Well, if you can't come up with anything, maybe I should think of a wish instead?
A: All right, I've got it. I wish for my brother and sister back home to be able to live out their lives in peace.
>That's just like you.
>That's a lovely wish.
A: This kind of thing is pretty embarrassing, huh? A: Maybe I should be heading back. I'll never get better at fancy social events like this if I keep running away from them, right? A: I guess I should ask another girl to dance. Oh, but I'd better make sure I go over the steps again first.
>You could dance with me.
A: Really? You'd do that? A: Wow, that'd be great! Just promise not to laugh if I mess it up, OK? A: Come on. Let's head back.
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violent-optimism · 6 years
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5 Lessons I learned from Working at a Daycare
Hello, friends!
Yesterday was my last shift at my summer daycare job. Overall, I am very grateful for the experience of working there. Some days were not very fun, but I learned a lot, and I just thought I would share some of the most important (and funny) lessons from my time spent there.
So if anyone is interested in working with kids, or wants to have kids of their own, I think these will be valuable lessons for the most part!
1) The kids you work with can either make or break the daycare experience
This one is pretty obvious, but I feel it needs to be said. You wouldn’t think that a single, poorly behaved child would turn your work day into a nightmare, but it is possible and has happened to me. On the flip side, when certain children are not in attendance, the day can flow like an absolute dream! Everyone listens, no one throws a tantrum, the kids are respectful, etc. Those days were my favourite, and it’s a shame it couldn’t happen every single day. I’ve had a full spectrum of different children, to kids who behaved like perfect angels with the best manners I’ve ever seen, to kids who are violently aggressive towards both other kids AND teachers. I think it’s important to remember that violent children are not inherently “bad”, but at the same time, when they are not in attendance, the day tends to run much smoother.
2) Kids can make you laugh and make you cry
Fortunately for me, I only cried once during my whole time working at the daycare. I’m lucky that it wasn’t a case of being harassed or abused by a child in my care because I know that has happened to some of my co-workers. Basically, a child got injured right in front of me before I could stop it from happening. She was hurt pretty bad and would not stop crying/screaming. Fortunately, one of my co-workers took over to help with the injury while I started to fill out the mandatory incident report. When I was writing the report I just started to cry and I couldn’t stop. I just felt so bad for the girl and I wish there was something I could have done to help her sooner. Two of my amazing co-workers gave me some supportive words, and five minutes later the girl was playing and it was like she had completely forgotten about getting hurt. Needless to say I was very relieved.
As I’m pretty sure most of you know, kids can say some ridiculously funny things (see: random daycare stories 1-3). These are the moments that make daycare work worthwhile, because nothing is funnier than hearing a very random/ridiculous comment and having it brighten up your whole day.
3) Get used to gross tasks!
If you’re someone who gets squeamish at the sight of bodily fluids/functions, I might suggest an alternative career path.
Prior to this job, I had never changed a diaper before. It always seemed really complicated for some reason and I just never had a chance to learn. However, now at the end of the summer, I’ve changed so many diapers it doesn’t even phase me. I might not be the quickest at it, but I can now do it properly and without feeling grossed out.
Apart from this, I won’t get into details or anything but I’ve done some pretty icky things during my work haha you just kind of get used to gross things after a while. Although that being said, I still don’t like the sight of runny noses.
4) Don’t forget about self-care
Most of the time (like 90% of the time), daycare work can be chaotic. If there’s 20+ kids playing in one room, it can be really hard to speak or even think. That being said, it is also extremely easy to forget that you need to use the washroom, or that you haven’t eaten in 3 hours. While there may be some moments where you literally cannot leave the room (if other staff or busy), please remember that your self-care is extremely important and you need to look after yourself too. If you aren’t performing at your best, you won’t be able to supervise the children effectively.
5) Daycare work is not for everyone
I cannot stress this enough. I think it takes a very particular type of person to not only deal with multiple kids five days a week, but also accomplish the daily tasks that go along with daycare work (cleaning, laundry, making snacks, etc.).
I’ve prepared something of a checklist for those who might be interested in working with kids. Someone who works in a daycare needs to be:
- Patient, like...SUPER patient and understanding with kids
- Able to diffuse conflicts between children in a calm, mature way
- Caring, gentle, and empathetic
- Unafraid of disciplining children (verbally) and confronting problematic behavior
- Someone who genuinely loves being around kids. Like, don’t say that you do when you actually don’t.
- Someone who isn’t afraid to be silly when playing with kids (they love it!)
And there you have it, folks!
I will be happy if I was able to bestow at least a bit of wisdom onto someone. Keep in mind that I am by no means an expert in early childhood education, all of these tips and points come purely from my experience working in a daycare this summer.
It’s a bittersweet resignation for sure, I will miss most of these kids dearly. I’m sure I will see them again someday!
Sorry this was a bit longer than I intended, thank you for reading!
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storyunrelated · 6 years
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Run for it! - Medical issues
I did mention how Run For It! is a thinly-veiled excuse to just do what i always do and laughingly claim it’s all part of some shared narrative about a city and it’s cloying apathy and violent annual tradition?
Right?
Grandmother was dying. This was known.
She lay in the hospital bed, looking so small and so feeble that she was practically swallowed by the covers. She looked like she was made of paper.
“I love you, nanny,” sniffled Little Chloe, stood by the bedside. Grandmother was too busy staring into middle-distance with watery eyes to reply. Not that she heard Little Chloe anyway. While technically speaking she was there, Grandmother hadn’t really been there for a little while now.
“Hello hello hello! I’m a medical professional,” said a medical professional, swanning into the room in a flurry of charts and the swish of a white coat. They swirled around the room, opening up the curtains and blinding the family before taking the untouched food from the tray in front of Grandmother and tossing it out the window.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Spluttered Father, trying to rise from his seat only to find the medical professional’s finger pressed to their lips and stopping him in his tracks.
“Shh shh shh, it’s okay. I know what I’m doing. I’m here about your relation.”
This they said while nudging a head towards Grandmother, who was still staring at nothing. The machines beeped. Something dripped into a bag.
“W-what is it?” Mother asked, nervously, shifting in the uncomfortable hospital seat.
“Well, we’ve run the numbers - all of the numbers - through our Expirometer and I’m afraid to say that your relation here is not long for this world.”
(Some quiet sobbing on hearing this, but nothing so loud as to interrupt).
”Indeed indeed indeed. Probably not more than a handful of days at most. The Expirometer told us three. It’s never been demonstrated to be wrong.”
The Expirometer was a cutting-edge piece of equipment. Technically medical, in that it had been designed for use in hospitals. It meticulously compiled all available healthcare data from a patient, compared it against all possible best and worst outcomes, threw in wildcards and then spat out a statistically inviolate date of death. Down to the minute.
Recreational use of the Expirometer was frowned upon.
It was the single-most expensive piece of equipment in the whole hospital. Why this was so was less clear when you considered how expensive just about anything medical was and also the eye-watering amount of stuff the hospital had packed into it, but you couldn’t argue with facts. Or balance sheets.
Knowing who was liable to die soon was very useful information to know, especially if them dying meant they or their family would stop paying you. Hence why Grandmother’s numbers had been run through, as she’d been looking a little worse for wear lately, and hence why the medical professional had appeared to deliver the sad news.
And to tell them this:
“It pains me to say this but you are going to have to leave the hospital immediately. And take your dying relative with you. Truly, I know this must be a hard time for you. You have sympathy. My sympathy. But get out. Now. Or we’ll call security.”
Several members of security were at that moment hiding just outside the room, hoping against hope that the family would kick up even the slightest amount of fuss. There’d been a dearth of heads to kick in of late and they were starting to get ants in their pants.
“B-but why?” Little Chloe wailed. The innocence of children. Annoying. And loud!
But the medical professional was nothing if not patient. Kneeling down by the child they dug a hand around inside their coat and then thrust a handful of lollipops into Little Chloe’s face.
“If it were to die on hospital premises this would negatively affect our quality rating, you see? And that wouldn’t do. If you’d prefer you can leave it in the gutter outside, that doesn’t count. That would be an acceptable place to leave it.”
Little Chloe - lollipops in her eyes - was screaming too much to really listen or take this important information on board. The medical professional watched her do this for a second or two before clucking their tongue, looking to Mother and Father and adding:
“And of course, while your relative was here selfishly hogging a bed it was only going to die in, another patient could be in their place, paying us money to get better. Not that your money isn’t good, of course! It’s just that we know it isn’t going to be good for much longer, and we hate wasting time. Every second not spent charging for our services is a second we’re not charging someone for our services, yes yes yes! So we need you gone and someone fresh here instead. And so it was.”
Mother and Father were too stunned to reply to this, and most of their attention was on the bawling Little Chloe anyway. The medical professional glanced at her again. Their eyes lit up.
“You should probably get that looked at, you know.”
They then shook their head. No. No time to be distracted. Focus on the task at hand. They stood up.
“But you can do that on your own time, yes yes yes? You’re on our time now, and our time is valuable. Unlike yours. So go on. Get that thing out of here. Go on. Unhook all that equipment. Take out that catheter, too. Don’t make a mess of it now!”
Mother and Father and whimpering Little Chloe complied, their limbs moving more through pure shock than anything. Their minds could properly grasp the situation. It was rather like they were watching themselves go through the motions, controlled by an outside agency. Puppets to the authority exerted by someone in a white coat who spoke clearly and firmly.
“Quick quick quick now, I’ve got places to be. Some of those Run Entrants have started coming in and a bunch need patching up and I want in on that. Quick quick quick!”
The prestige that would come from having been the one to get a Run winner back into winning condition (even if your involvement was only at the very start, and so therefore negligible) was one of the very few things in the city it was difficult to put a price on. People had tried, obviously, but it had never stuck. That made it beyond valuable.
Grandmother was finally freed of the beeping machines and taken into Father’s arms, where she was so light she was in danger of simply floating away.
The very instant the bed had been vacated bustling staff came in to change the sheets and wheel away machines that could be better put to use on more worthwhile patients. These staff members moved like ghosts, silently and slipping through spaces without seeming to occupy them.
Mother, Father, Little Chloe filed dolefully from the room, Grandmother in tow. Little Chloe needed special guidance from Mother to keep from bumping into things, having been blinded by lollipops, but at least by this point her crying had tailed off into whimpering, which was much more tolerable to the delicate ears of all present. Security was very disappointed with the uneventful way in which they left and the dignity with which they conducted themselves and so slouched off to go and cause problems for someone else. The Medical Professional waved the family goodbye.
“Thank you! Bye bye bye! Thank you for choosing to bring yourself or your loved one to a TLC brand hospital! Be sure to recommend us to all your friends and family! And strangers! Put a hashtag on it for a discount! Bye! Bye bye bye!”
And they were gone.
Sighing in deep, deep satisfaction the medical professional put their hands on their hips.
“What an age to be alive,” they breathed.
They then checked their watch again and started. They needed to get a move on!
And so they did.
And so it was.
The family was, of course, billed for the time they would have spent in the hospitals’ care up until the point at which Grandmother had been predicted to die, as was only proper and decent and, above all, legally enforceable. The lollipops in Little Chloe’s eyes were complementary, and therefore cost less than they normally did.
But you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you?
You’re a smart cookie. You know how the world works.
There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes!
And no sticking lollipops in them, either!
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marsandchariot · 3 years
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Saturn transiting Aquarius in the 12 Houses
Even if you have no natal planets in the sign of Aquarius, the sign still has a place in your chart, and its themes are activated by planets transiting whichever house it occupies. I have no planets in my 5th house, where Aquarius is. In my 4th, I have Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune in Capricorn. For a while I looked ahead to the transition of Saturn into Aquarius—from earth to air—as bringing a potential for lightness, or even levity. I think this view reflected a kind of denial of what Saturn is, what Aquarius is, and what air is.
Over the summer I received a reading—my first ever—from Alice. This was a significantly emotional experience for me, and I am speaking as someone who has Mars in Cancer. I cried a lot, and most of the emotions that surfaced were in response to 4th house topics like family, ancestry, childhood, and belonging. I asked Alice what it could mean for Saturn to next transit my empty 5th house and they said it could describe the act of taking creation seriously.
This part of the reading was almost a postscript to the heart of what we discussed over the course of our time together. Though “taking creation seriously” may seem like a fairly straightforward translation of Saturn (limits, constraint) in the 5th house (fecundity, reproduction, art, pleasure topics), the idea has continued to resound in my mind months later as a powerful and enigmatic imperative. So last night I went outside to see the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, which to me looked like a bright lovely dot, and I decided I wanted to think about this notion of taking creation seriously for whichever house is receiving Saturn right now. I love the idea of people being able to take themselves seriously as creators, to have conviction in the time they spend making something, in whatever medium to which they feel drawn. I hate the idea of people giving up on their capacity to create because they don’t see “the point.” I want everyone to see the point in their individual practices, and to have the luxury of belief in the value of what and how and when they practice, even if they’re working in total privacy or obscurity. 
 As another guiding range of archetypes I consulted the Materia Prima tarot deck from Uusi, which I am a bit intimidated and totally fascinated by. I read the houses using a modified variation of the Churchyard spread, since it involves one card to represent the querent plus 12 more cards. So you have an idea of the aesthetic, here are three of the 12 cards I drew. 
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 Find where Aquarius is in your chart. Again, even if you have Aquarius in an empty house, that house is now hosting some very important guests. The joy of the empty house, in my opinion, is the way new occupants allow you to examine what’s being incited in an area of your life in which you were previously less interested, or you weren’t very aware of. This spark of interest or awareness is how I am interpreting at least the beginning phase of seriousness, setting the scene for development of this theme over the course of the next three years. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 1ST HOUSE 
 A synonym for this transit might be someone willingly or unwillingly “bearing the brunt” of something, or the feeling that one’s priorities must be deferred because the burden of responsibility to others is too great. This querent thinks it is normal for them to do all the heavy lifting without help, because if they don’t, who else will? It may be that this querent is explicitly depended upon, but they may not see the ways in which they constantly carry these burdens results from a lack of boundaries, of thinking they cannot assert their interests or position at all, and they must drop their lives in order to fulfill responsibilities to their community, no matter how abstract or distant that community may be. They think that when everyone is taken care of, they will finally focus on themselves. They allow the needs of others to set their own boundaries, and so the boundary is never set. Rising air signs, please understand your limitations. Please respect your own boundaries and personal priorities at least half as much as you work to attune yourself to and respond to the signals of others. Set aside some time to let the world go on without you. I think you will be surprised at the space you are able to create for yourself, and the way you are finally able to get your own things done. Alternatively, if the bearing of burdens feels against your will, you may be made to feel like the scapegoat in one or more of your communities, and so the erosion of your time and energy arises from your effort to free yourself from this position or to dispel the collective belief in your deserving of this position. It may be possible to change collective opinion with time, but it is not your responsibility to do so, and the effort it takes will not serve your own energetic health.
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 2ND HOUSE 
 Thanks to the pandemic we’ve all got new stuff for all the new things we’re doing. Interests require tools and subscriptions and memberships and Zoom classes. Investing in new materials, especially when they are technically “productive” materials, helps us justify the way we use our time to spend money. Eventually you will have to use your possessions, though, in order to justify the acquisition of them, or else they are just an idea of creation, an aspiration or intention to create. I drew the Arsenic card for this transit; you can see its relationship to The Magician and its connection to equating material mastery with experience and execution. It’s a reminder that we cannot make the idea of creation into an idol; we can’t manifest our intentions through possession of material as a substitute for the activation of ideas. At a certain point you need to look at what you have, and use what you’ve got, or else your material intentions of creation will serve to isolate you from the generative power of your own creative process. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 3RD HOUSE 
 Carve out time to work on your creation. Period. It doesn’t have to be every day, but by developing even the consistency of once a week or month you demonstrate a dedication to your own ability to produce something that cannot exist without your attention. Anyone practicing without professional recognition knows how difficult this faith is to maintain. I have been watching a lot of writer interviews recently. One constant piece of advice they give is to be consistently present for the work—make the space of routine, don’t wait for other peoples’ recognition or respect to justify making time for your creative process. It can feel especially hard to tell people what you’re up to when they aren’t used to taking non-professional practices seriously. But, you know what, fuck them. Your time belongs to you, and the things you want to do, even if you’re not a seasoned professional expert at that thing, are important. Don’t let fears of other peoples’ skepticism run your private life. Advocate for the consistency of your practice. If people can manage to go to church every Sunday, you can manage to write or paint or build or do whatever at least once a week. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 4TH HOUSE 
 A lot has happened to you. A lot has happened to everyone, of course, but you may be sitting on or hoarding those experiences, waiting for the “right” way to use them. But now is the time to activate the impressions or residue of what you’ve experienced so you can understand what those experiences are teaching you. You’ve got to start piecing it together, like clues, to make a cogent shape, because there isn’t going to be an a-ha moment that shows you what it all means. You might want to process with the people closest to you, people who know you really well, about the ideas you’re working through. They may have an insight that brings the pieces of the past together in a way that helps you see the larger picture. You may worry that you take in more than you’re able to reflect, which can feel as if you’re stuck in a more passive or accumulating phase. You may worry that by acting “too soon” you run the risk of using up the resource of the past. But the past has more than a single purpose; it continuously replenishes. Begin using it now. You will always have more later. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 5TH HOUSE 
 It can be hard to get going when you’re simultaneously trying to predict and interpret the meaning of your creation, then producing into those expectations, then getting stuck when it doesn’t seem like you’re fulfilling those expectations you’ve set for yourself. If you fall short of the expectations of your own practice, you may see yourself as failing; as not being serious enough, or not knowing enough. You may retreat from your practice in order to prepare, re-group, plan. Something that can be difficult is the need to assert the purpose and meaning of your creation in order to justify your work on it. People rarely feel comfortable saying, “I’m working on something, but I don’t know what it’s about,” or “I’m working on something, but I don’t know what it is.” The need to envision the finished product (and to be able to claim that what we’ve made is valuable and worthwhile) presents a serious hindrance to one’s artistic practice. How can you do your thing if you’re constantly worrying whether the thing you do is living up to your expectations? Think about kids whose parents constantly projected their own values onto their child, who made their child feel as if they couldn’t deviate from these expectations. Don’t be that parent! Raise a happy child with lots of options. Don’t crush your creation under the weight of your own expectations, which are often just internalized anxieties of not being good enough in the eyes of a nightmare amalgam of different authority figures. Treat your creation like a child whose psyche you’re not trying to pulverize through micromanagement. Ask where it wants to go, what it wants to be, and allow these impulses to run their course, trusting that for your creation, even what you don’t understand has a role to play in your process. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 6TH HOUSE 
 If you are feeling uninspired, or unsure of where to “begin,” this is an excellent time to cultivate a divinatory system or some other system that you use as a visionary tool. Any system to which you gravitate, and which you learn to use in a dynamic way that serves your purpose beyond rote memorization, that answers your questions and creates proposals for your work will, in some way, serve your creative process. I often imagine the 6th house as a grid. To place a grid onto any single surface transforms that surface into many parts. The division of something into parts allows us to deconstruct and rearrange what previously appeared to be a single coherent material. I don’t want to say that your selection of a system is arbitrary, but any consistent method by which you can take stock of the familiar in a way to defamiliarize it will show a way forward in terms of rethinking what’s available to you. Take things apart. Put them back together differently. Isolate elements of the familiar in order to make them strange. You have ideas, you have passions, you have interests. As soon as you take the care in grouping them, tracking them, mapping them, you are seeing more lucidly the unconscious connections you have been making all along. 
SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 7TH HOUSE 
 Saturn transiting the 7th may speak to a seriousness on the level of commitment or partnership. It could also mean cultivating a kind of faithfulness to a project. If you are working on multiple things, maybe commit to a precious few, so you are better able to devote your attention to these before moving on to another smaller group or single creation. Partnership requires a mindfulness to the other in which we simultaneously do not lose ourselves. Says Carl Jung, “Emotional relationships are relationships of desire, tainted by coercion and constraint; something is expected from the other person, and that makes him and ourselves unfree.” It is important that in our commitment to something or someone, we do not give up our freedom; focus and attention are not the same as imprisonment. For this placement, I pulled the Iron card, whose equivalent is Mars. During WWI, the phrase “I gave gold for iron” articulated the incentive to donate jewelry to the war effort. With gold as the alchemical equivalent of the Sun, the ego, the sacrifice can translate to mean giving up one’s self in service of one’s expression. The creation is not the self, but it draws from the self in order to come to life. It could be that this transit asks for more to be given to creation, or that firmer boundaries are drawn between the self and creation, to better prepare the creation to become a discrete and substantive entity in its own right. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE 
 Invite contact, invite collaboration. There is the pressure to protect one’s creation from interference in a way that may harmfully shelter it. I don’t think I need to re-hash Colin Craven and the whole point of The Secret Garden, but it is possible to be too precious about your process and your creation, shielding it from the potential of growth. It can withstand more than you think; it is more distinctive than you think; it is more valuable and admirable than you give it credit for. It is possible to shelter your creation so intensely that you even stop working on it, because it’s never the right time, or you haven’t got the perfect idea, or you’re not in the right mood, or you’re not well-versed enough in what you’re trying to do or say. You need to persist for the sake of making your intention manifest, without fear of judgment. You need to bring your creation to light without worrying about its vulnerability to alteration and death. This preciousness may also speak to a kind of purity, where you feel stuck but are loathe to move forward by introducing unexpected elements to your process, out of fear of changing your creation on the core-level. I doubt this kind of “damage” will happen, even if you introduce elements that feel opposite of your original intention. The strongest reactions occur between things that are not like one another. Furthermore, fusions or combinations between unlike elements don’t occur from hesitant proximity; they occur through repeated direct, intentional engagement. Don’t be afraid to bombard your process with the outside world, with new ideas and techniques. It can handle it, and so can you. 
SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 9TH HOUSE 
Stop looking for an institutional position that reflects everything you offer, and instead find ways to satisfy a fuller spectrum of those offerings in ways both within and without the institution. What you offer as a “full package” is important but often professionally or commercially invisible. This can be an especially difficult way to make a living, and you may have to select a position you don’t feel encompasses your entire range of abilities in order to practice those abilities in a way that is compensable. If the institution doesn’t recognize your full capacity, don’t push. Stop giving everything away to prove you are capable of giving. It doesn’t have to be about money, but you need to develop a personal system of limits or regulations so that you yourself can keep track of the value of what you expend. Just because it comes naturally to you doesn’t mean you should give it away for free. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 10TH HOUSE 
 What you’re looking to create may not be a material form at all, but a role you play in the world. It may be a role that is yet undefined, but something you are looking to articulate in simultaneously meaningful and ephemeral gestures. It’s less about a permanent professional station and more of a mutable approach to a unique offering or service. It will take time. Document your process, even if it doesn’t reflect the outcome. You will see traces of the outcome even in areas of the process that don’t “feel significant.” Your work is one of accumulated intentions, diversions, fleeting pieces. Self-illumination is not a single beacon but many spectral lines of emission and absorption. It shows nothing but the portion of the path that’s visible. Air signs linger in distances, in liminal or invisible connections. To play a role in this area may require a mobile or roaming form. You don’t need to produce a final act; show the ways in which any occurrence can continue forward; in which a thing that happens is always happening. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 11TH HOUSE 
 How do you want to share with people? Where are the people you want to talk to? How do you want to make space for them to respond? Building community and systems of shared values is an elusive process, subject to trends of culture, language, and technology. It’s important to see beyond strategies of loud and dominant message projection (marketing) in order to value the content you wish to share. Fears of being unheard have the effect of changing what it is we actually say, imparting instead a message that is shared only for sharing’s sake, not because the messenger any longer has conviction in the import of what is said. It is important to maintain the integrity of your creation so that it reflects something that would serve you, if you were in need of it. Don’t treat your creation as if it’s bait designed to lure the most amount of people (or capital). Make available your process of creation—what are the qualities that you resist and embrace in yourself, and how has this process led you toward the creation of something which you truly believe, not just something you believe will “sell”? Often, the most valuable materials are both rare and common. It is a mistake to strive for just one or the other in order to appear uncomplicated. To be comprised of a single element is to become a brand. Brands are clean but they have no souls. If signs of your struggle and honest experience are missing from your creation, then you are only showing half the picture, and there is more to be done. 
 SATURN TRANSITING AQUARIUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE 
If you feel you don’t have the energy to work on your creation, it’s because you don’t. If you feel like there isn’t time, it’s because there isn’t. Sometimes we can’t just add our creation to the list of other tasks we’re doing that day, between walking the dog and picking up groceries and filing our taxes. That just may not be where the creative state is able to situate itself in our lives. If when you think about working on your creation, you feel the same dread as when working on projects you’re compelled to do for professional or academic purposes—if something feels more toiling than generative—it’s a sign to try a different approach. This may require a recalibration of intention. Intention does not have some inherent buoyancy that allows it to surface with explicit clarity into our conscious awareness. You may have to enter a state of sublimation in order to find its articulation. By entering unconscious or semi-conscious states, we can better observe our conscious actions in order to envision a way forward. There are many people who experience the majority of their process in this state of sublimation, only to transition to the material aspect of their process in a burst at the “end.” Make space in your awareness for your emotional experience of your creative process. Don’t attempt to make your labor visible in a way that “looks” like work. Compulsive labor is not the sole determinant of progress. Discomfort is not the sole determinant of labor. Find the executable intention in yourself and cultivate instead a willingness to meet it, being open to all the ways available to you to do this.
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steamishot · 4 years
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Habits
I’ve been making some lifestyle changes lately. Most, if not all my life, I’ve done things in a rush. I tend to value speed (maybe because I find the task more challenging and more fun if I race against time lol) when I complete tasks, and I realize I’ve been quite unaware that I do this. Little everyday things, like getting ready in the morning, taking a shower, peeing, washing my hair, combing my hair, applying lotion, blow drying my hair- I realize I rush through it and just hope I show up presentable. I wasn’t that aware until Matt pointed it out a few times, and I realize it when I’m on a trip with a few other girls and how quickly I’m able to get ready and how little effort I put in. I’ve been taking small but promising changes towards self-care. I’m slowing down during the shower and enjoying my time there more instead of viewing it as task that I just wanna get over with (kinda like how I view washing dishes or doing laundry). In a sense, I’m learning to embrace my feminine side and be okay with the time and effort I spend on myself. I only get one face and body in this lifetime after all.
I’m also translating this onto my hobbies/work out goals. In the past, I’ve focused on results, and wanted results quick. I would work extra hard in the beginning and then burn myself out and then stop altogether. I’ve been listening to a podcast called GeniusBrain. The hosts are Asian American youtube entertainers, and I think they provide a lot of good life advice and insight, while presenting it in a way that is authentic and funny. In one episode, as they talked about fitness, they mentioned that it is very common for people who are new to working out to want to see results quickly. And they described the same thing I went through multiple times. Their advice for someone who was completely sedentary and wanted to become more active was – JUST START WALKING EVERYDAY. Easy enough goal right? I only realized that more important to having big goals was the ability to be disciplined and form habits. My work out endeavors in the past didn’t really work for me, in hindsight, because the routine was too complex for me to absorb. I would follow youtube videos with weight training and cardio, but without the videos, I was at a loss. Maybe around Fall 2019, I started doing a mile run after work. I remember taking like 13 minutes to run a mile, but being so out of breath and lightheaded after I completed it.
In December, I made a goal to do 10k steps at least 5x/week. This is easy to accomplish during a workday, but I don’t track it as much during the weekend. I’ve consistently been taking my two breaks each work day to walk, and my body has significant improvements. Most days (excluding the days when I’m super exhausted from lack of sleep and/or traveling) I run 2+ miles on a treadmill at home. If I have a hours of free time over the weekend, I’ll do 5 miles. This is mindless, as I don’t have to think too much about following a youtube video, but instead I get to run while watching a show, which makes exercising much more bearable and fun. Now when I get home and don’t work out, my body feels weird and craves a workout. I’m happy to have formed a habit!!! I didn’t even run this much when I “trained” for a half marathon a few years ago. I eventually want to incorporate this ten minute muscle toning work out into my routine, but I’ll wait until my running habit has really developed. But my lesson is, doing less consistently is actually more in the long run.
This is the same with drawing. It helps when I am drawing things for other people, as it holds me accountable. At the same time, it is much more fulfilling to draw for a purpose – to bring joy to others. I know that I try harder when I’m drawing for other people than for myself. It’s only been a few weeks so far, but I’ve been drawing more consistently than I ever have since like high school. I think as an adult, hobbies can easily be seen as a waste of time if you’re not it for some monetary or health value, at least IMO. But I think illustration is a valuable skill in the design world, and it’s something I can add to my portfolio. In any case, I think doing something/building on any skill is better than not doing anything at all.
Notable events-
My bro and wife just bought a pretty expensive house in Gardena. They will probably move into it the end of the month. It is by far the nicest/biggest house in our family and they were able to do it with their parents’ help (mostly her parents). There was a joke that Trevor Noah did, about what college degree is the most useful- and the answer is rich/successful parents. I am happy for them. At the same time, I feel like there was no struggle on their part, but kinda leeching off parents. Her parents are still fairly young, so I don’t mind too much, but I get sad seeing that my parents are getting old, and they sacrifice so much just for their child to have a less stressful life. I am happy to know that my parents give what they can “for the next generation”, but they also have firm boundaries.
My grandma has 7 kids, and some send her money every month. Lately, my grandma has been giving me more money than before. She always wants to pay when we eat out, and gives me money every time I go on trips. I used to be uncomfortable accepting it, and always declined it. But now, I understand that it makes her happy that I accept her support. So now I just take it and say thank you. In my perspective, I think she thinks her time left is limited, so she’d rather “invest” in me because it’s more worthwhile.
Also, my SIL told my mom she’s pregnant.
I am leaving to NYC tomorrow! The more I go, the less ideas I have of what to do when planning out our itinerary, but I am just excited to be able to cuddle and give each other tight hugs and be there physically with each other. We had one of our worst fights over the weekend, and it spanned like 4 days, just because our free time doesn’t overlap enough to finish arguing lol. It is funny but it also is a really sucky feeling, because we both end up going to sleep upset and can’t talk about it until after work the next day. I am trying to make light of it now, but I felt pretty depressed going through it. Deep breathing helped. 
I want to document this so I can remember in the future - what happened was during/after night shifts, he just never “bounced back”. I stayed getting not as much attention (which may be the normal amount of communication in some LDRs, but it was a drastic change for me, perhaps because he used to spoil me before). We barely texted, barely got to talk in depth, and he was learning to be more efficient with his time and have more self-care (sleeping early, unwinding more, drinking less coffee) that he came off cold and distant to me. I accepted it as the norm during night shift, but was expecting that he return to “normal” afterwards. Anyway, because I was already in an insecure state of mind due to the perceived difference in behavior, I took it really personally when I was trying to plan out moving in together and he couldn’t give me an estimated timeline. I started feeling like he had some reservations about me that was preventing us from moving forward. His explanation was that - he doesn’t know what program he will be going to (will find out if he gets in on Match day), and doesn’t want to plan ahead because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. I didn’t understand this, because to me I was just talking hypothetically. However, I didn’t really consider how emotionally heavy Match day could be to him. He did work very hard for a decade to get where he is at, and his future is still not guaranteed. So, even though I feel like my life is “on hold”, I can be patient and wait another month to find out. 
Got a pap smear done yesterday. 
Work updates: there was a period of time when things were quite slow for me. I noted in a blog post about how guilty I was feeling, and how odd I felt around my supervisor. I tended to hide in my room and not interact with my supervisor. Thankfully, work is picking up as we are preparing for the incoming and terminating housestaff. I’ve been making a bigger effort to build relationships with people, and interact more with my supervisor.
Edit: these days feel pretty sucky to me. I think I’ve been extra lonely because my best hometown girlfriend has a boyfriend now, and we barely hang out anymore. Although in the grand scheme of things, I am very fortunate. I told my coworkers I was going to NYC this weekend, and one of them responded, “you’re so lucky!”. These days have been more challenging, with more questions of “is it worth it to put up with this relationship” as I’m feeling pretty neglected and unhappy. But I know it’s the combination of things - feeling stagnant with my life, not as challenged at work (although work is sometimes quite enjoyable), not having my close friend around a lot, etc. 
Sometimes I look at how my bro and his wife just lounge and relax and go out on dates. And I think about how that different that is from my life with Matt. Everything between us is fast paced, we are always on the go, and tired. Today, I received notice that I got a speeding ticket in NOLA. I also received a fine from the car rental company. Driving there was stressful and tiring already. I was also a bit salty that I drove the entire trip, and no one offered to help out. This is my first ever speeding ticket and I’d hate to have to pay it fully. This news made me feel shittier. I tried to think of positive things, like that I randomly received a tax refund from 2016, and the check would cover my tickets almost exactly. And another positive thing was that I forgot my iPad on the plane and was able to get it back. Lastly, if these are the things I am sad about, then I have it pretty good. 
Second edit: I realize I feel better when I talk to friends/acquaintances/work friends about things. It helps put my situation into perspective. I was feeling like a victim regarding my parking ticket, but $140 isn’t bad compared to the $300-500 speeding tickets in LA. My work mom just laughed at me saying, you? speeding ticket? HAHAHA congratulations. It reminds me that I do take my life too seriously sometimes. My friends on the trip are also “donating” to this cause, so it also takes the load off and I appreciate it a lot. 
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lovereconthings · 4 years
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HELP! My Mate Pushes My Hot Buttons
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 “The good thing about having our buttons pushed is that
we can no longer ignore the sensitive areas where we need to heal.” - Mary Buchan
Hot buttons are a part of every person, and therefore they are a part of every relationship.  You would not be human if you did not have emotional responses to events, statements made by others or the actions of others, including your spouse. As a matter of fact, we have relationship drills specifically designed to help with Hot Buttons  The goal in addressing hot buttons is to manage them, not to eradicate them. That would make you a robot with no emotions.  The goal is to learn how to recognize your hot buttons even if it means attending a life coaching event.  Identify them and manage them so they don’t rule your life and your relationships. And you and your mate can even learn to help each other manage your hot buttons so that it becomes a game or a secret language between you. It begins with you ! Managing your hot buttons doesn’t begin with changing your mate, however. It begins with you.  Even if your mate could avoid pushing your buttons, someone else would…someone in a store or at work or on your team, etc. So, to better control your buttons, there are a few steps that you can take. Step 1: Identify your hot buttons! So, what are your hot buttons?  Do some introspection and self -evaluation. Take ownership of your own feelings and hot buttons. Don’t expect your mate or others to know what your hot buttons are if you don’t. Get a blank sheet of paper.  Now look at the list below and write down 3 to 5 of your “hottest” buttons on the sheet of paper.  This is not a comprehensive list, so feel free to write down any that aren’t on the list.  Begin with the thought: My hot button gets pushed when I feel… Judged Lonely Powerless Invalidated Feeling Defective Devalued Abandoned  Neglected IgnoredCondemned Despairing Rejected  Failure Misunderstood Not Trusted Worthless Humiliated Unimportant Unwanted Threatened  Controlled Disconnected Afraid Unhappy  Think about this: “Every hot button has an origin, and it is not your spouse!” What made your hot button an emotional trigger?  Was it a controlling mother or a father who devalued your thoughts and opinions? What is being humiliated or bullied at school? Did you feel abandoned because a person or people near to you died when you were a child? Whatever the feeling, go back as far as you can in your memory to a time when you felt that button getting pushed. That is most likely representative of why you have this particular hot button. Step 2:  Beside each hot button that you wrote down, now write down where you believe that this button originated.  Once that you have identified some of your hot buttons and where you believe they originated; you are ready for the next step. Step 3: Replace that negative thought and feeling with a positive thought and feeling. What is the truth about you? What is a positive affirmation that you could make about yourself?   Are you really worthless, unimportant, stupid, controlled, powerless, unwanted, without a valid opinion, etc. The truth is usually the exact opposite of the feeling from the hot button.  “I am valuable, important, smart, empowered, wanted, with a worthwhile opinion, etc. “Write the truth about you underneath or beside each hot button that you listed.  You may not completely believe the truth/positive affirmation yet, but it is important that you begin to speak it and believe it if you want to neutralize the hot button that you are experiencing.  Step 4:  Practice managing your hot buttons. Don’t wait until you’re in the heat of an emotional exchange with your mate to practice managing your buttons.   Take the list that you have made and go down the list, one by one, following this pattern: Take a deep breath and say: My hot button is getting pushed and I am feeling ______. I realize that this is coming from my childhood/youth when________. The truth is ______. Example: (Deep breath!) My hot button is getting pushed and I am feeling controlled.  I realize that this comes from my youth when I felt very controlled by my mother.  The truth is, I am an adult and no one controls me unless I give them permission to. Practice identifying the button, recognizing where it is coming from and what the truth/positive affirmation is that you want to remind yourself of. Do this for every button that you can identify. Now, you are ready to share these with your mate.  Let them know that you are working hard to manage your hot buttons because he/she and your relationship are important to you.  Ask if you can share about your hot buttons and say that you would like their feedback and help in managing your buttons.  Hopefully, you mate will respond in a positive fashion and be willing to identify some of their own hot buttons and learn to manage them as well!   If not, keep working on yourself and perhaps seek out marriage help if your mate is willing to go with you.  Whatever the outcome, you can become emotionally healthy, with your hot buttons under control and improved relationships in every area of your life! Read the full article
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shih-coulda-had-it · 7 years
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The Ninth Child
or, a loose adaptation of the Chinese fairy tale, The Butterfly Lovers.
Summary: Chirrut Îmwe, accosted by disapproving parents and an existential despair at home, enters the Temple. *Songs link to Youtube.
AO3 LINK
A/N: This is my fic for the @dailyspiritassassin​‘s fanworks exchange! My giftee was @bottombobbysinger​, and the prompt I chose (perhaps a little ambitiously) was “Disney-style spiritassassin.” Much thanks to @zhenzidan​ for the beta!
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Quite frankly, Orson Krennic didn’t like people. He didn’t like people-feelings, especially the ones called sentimentalism, nostalgia, and affection. The supposed foundations of marriage.
Marriage was a construct designed to either let people climb up the rungs of society, or to utilize the loopholes during tax season.
Or, he mused, considering Jinrut Îmwe’s curtly worded post on the holonet, it could provide an opportunity to ingratiate himself with the Chancellor in the Galactic Senate.
The galaxy at large desired kyber—an infinitely renewable energy source in the right engineer’s hands, but monopolized to a ridiculous degree. The Îmwe family, known as one of the most respected owners of the largest kyber mines on Jedha, needed a relatively wealthy suitor for their youngest son.
A believer in long-term plans, Orson Krennic determined the best course of action was to consult others for advice and a thick digital tome on Jedhan marriage legalities.
It would take a while, but what suitor was going to offer the amount Jinrut Îmwe demanded for a blind man’s hand?
//
Chirrut was the ninth child of five girls and three brothers, the youngest of which still maintained seven years over him. His late existence marked him as an unexpected, and at times unwanted, son. He felt keenly the sheer displeasure his father had for him, like Chirrut embodied some harbinger of ill tidings.
To be fair, he had been.
His parents had not planned beyond eight children. They had long done away with the hand-me-downs and the crib carved of wood, imported long ago when Jedha received more trade. Chirrut’s imminent arrival left the family scrambling to find supplies during a period of weak trade relations, in addition to an inheritance equal to a ninth of the mines rendering the Îmwe name famous.
Fortunately, only a few of his parents’ progeny desired to run the family business.
Not among them was Chirrut, who (while content to wander the kyber mines as a child and trace the rainbow veins of crystal seeping through the rock walls) was uninterested in economics.
Chirrut’s interests were reserved in the Temple of the Whills, one of the family’s greatest patrons and customers. As a child, he visited every quarter of a cycle until he was ten, at which point his father turned his attention from religion to business.
But something tied him to the temple.
When Chirrut slept, he dreamt in sequences that smelled of heavy incense. He wandered in phantasmal halls that echoed with sonorous rumbles and ringing of bells and prayer. And recently, when he was still struggling through the haze of sleep, Chirrut heard himself muttering the old mantra that sat with him during the quarterly visits.
I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.
The blindness had shook Chirrut—its abrupt arrival a consequence of a late-night outing and a misaim with a heavily-modded taser—but not his goal to join the Temple of the Whills. There was something to be attained there, be it peace for the gnawing (if often subdued) bitterness at his uselessness at home or some form of enlightenment.
Perversely, his dreams meant nothing yet. Chirrut still had to convince his father to let him attend.
//
Dinner was considered a sacred time of neutrality in the Îmwe household. Conflicts between siblings, parents, or even siblings and parents were to be put away in order to maintain the semblance of a happy family.
One did not detonate the minefield deliberately.
“Father,” said Chirrut. He sat at one end of the table, his portions of rice and vegetables already scooped into his bowl by his mother. The uneti wood chopsticks—wedding gifts dating back several generations—rested on the rim of the bowl.
Chirrut’s father sat the other end. “Chirrut.”
Beating around the bush went unappreciated in the Îmwe household, no matter how bad the news. “I’m going to become a Guardian of the Whills.”
Without hesitation, perhaps without even glancing up from his bowl, Chirrut’s father responded, “No.”
“Are you going to tell me why?” A habit Chirrut had indulged for the past few years was to blankly stare in his father’s direction and tilt his head, blinking with calculated guilelessness. He wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.
“Stop that, you look like some owl,” chided his mother.
“Let him,” his father said. “Maybe then he will get smart enough not to speak nonsense.” He cleared his throat. “And what do you want with the Guardians anyway? You know these religious people—they just want ears to preach their dogma to.”
Little rankled the Îmwe patriarch more than patronization; it was a trait passed down in the family.
Chirrut occasionally owned up to it.
“It costs little for me to travel the city,” Chirrut responded. “All I would like is my parents’ blessing to continue a… family legacy.” Ancestors of theirs had joined the temple before, but one hadn’t joined in decades. No blood relative still yet lived there.
“No,” repeated his father. “I am circulating marriage proposals for your hand, and no spouse wants a chaste husband in their wedding bed.”
Chirrut wrinkled his nose. “I…” he returned, a little concerned. Locals—the Holy City locals, especially—were keenly aware of what they risked in marrying an Îmwe for sake of wealth from the mines. If the marriage was based on a contract for shares in the family fortunes, a life or death stipulation existed to test the fiancé or fiancée’s worth. “Have any offers been made yet?” Any worthwhile offers—Jinrut Îmwe was a picky man.
A third time, though with some reluctance. “No.”
Ah. Victory was close. “So, instead of letting me laze about at home,” Chirrut said, “how about I go learn humility at the Temple? Bow my head and bend my neck in front of elders? You’ve always wanted that.”
“Strange how losing your sight did not make you lose your tongue,” his father retorted. He tapped something hard against… his cup? Chirrut concentrated, discerned it was probably a fingernail against the ceramic. “Perhaps you should go. I hear they beat initiates into submission.”
“Bedtime horror stories have no effect on me now.”
“In every story, a grain of truth.” A hard huff of air. “Fine. You wish to attend, go ahead. I will call you back when I receive a good offer for your hand.”
“Well,” said Chirrut lightly, picking up his chopsticks, “I hope you consider me valuable, father.”
//
[Sun Yanzi – “Yu Tian”]
Rain on Jedha never failed to leave Chirrut jittery. Jedhans celebrated the rainy season, even the wild floods that ran through the streets, for the precious water would seep down into the porous sand and leave behind shallow-rooted meadows and green weeds poking up from the packed dirt, all dying within the month.
Part of Chirrut felt that joy buzz through the air. Part of Chirrut still remained focused on his echo-box, gifted to him by the successful first sister who’d moved to Coruscant, and the cold sensation of precipitation needling his exposed skin.
Rain on his departure for the Temple? Probably a good sign.
“You should have someone to guide you,” Chirrut’s mother had fussed. “With your luck, you will be mugged or killed.”
“On a rainy day?” Chirrut had asked, cheerfully. Superstitious people—and the Holy City thrived on superstition—wouldn’t dare. One thing for the moon’s lifeblood to spill, another for a sentient’s to dare mingle with it. “I’ll be fine, mother. It’ll be a test of fortitude.”
His cane swept left and right, carving a zigzag pattern in the wet sand. Paying attention to it was an afterthought in Chirrut’s head. He was more preoccupied in recalling the route to the Temple.
From the Îmwe complex in the Merchant Quarter, a path led to a set of stairs, which opened the Merchant Quarter into the Pilgrim’s Route.
The Pilgrim’s Route consisted of several dozen wide, unroofed bridges connecting shelters that served as both hostels and checkpoints; it circulated the entirety of the Holy City. Eventually, it led the faithful to the Temple. Pickpockets were rampant along the path, but Chirrut had nothing of value on him beyond the echo-box.
And few people on the black market could sell an echo-box; his second brother had tried buying one for a year before giving the task up to the first sister.
As he made his way across the second bridge, the arc of his cane finally made its first impact against… Chirrut assumed an ankle, sturdy enough to not even flinch at the collision. “Sorry,” he apologized, barely slowing his step before he realized the body hadn’t moved.
His face crashed into a solidly-built arm, muscle and fat giving off heat under the soaked fabric of the cloak. Chirrut’s nose pressed flat against a rounded bicep.
“Oh!” said a startled voice. Before Chirrut recoiled, he heard and felt the sound vibrate into his ears—rough like the sands, sonorous like a preacher, and deep like the sound had been rooted in the stranger’s lungs. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking.”
An opening like that proved too difficult to resist. With a flash of a smile, Chirrut responded, “Neither was I.” He beamed at where he approximated the face to be, eyes wide against the rain.
A bark of a laugh, endearingly close to a guffaw, was cut short. “Do you, uh, do that often? Make jokes about…?”
“Only when I’m in a good mood.” Chirrut clasped his hands, cane held vertically in them, and bowed. “I’m Chirrut—Chirrut. Just Chirrut.” He hid his wince at the awkward introduction, but it was too easy to alienate friends when they realized their uneven statuses. He’d have to just give his last name up, or change it somehow when he got to the Temple. “It’s good to meet you, Master…?”
“Not a master of anything,” said the man, and then hands tentatively clasped Chirrut’s, shaking them once up and down. “I’m Baze. Baze Malbus.” The brisk action left Chirrut frozen, as did their swift departure. They’d been warm hands. “Are you on a pilgrimage?”
“I, ah,” answered Chirrut, trying to push past the flustered fog in his brain. “I’m actually going to become an initiate. Possibly even a Guardian.” He shrugged and recovered his grin. “And you?”
Baze laughed again, surprise in his voice. Chirrut steeled himself for ridicule, and he found himself gaping at the truth. “That’s my aim too,” Baze confessed. “I suppose I got caught up in watching the rain. You get corralled up in the mountain caves when there’s no ready drainage system for the floods.”
“Mm-hm,” Chirrut hummed, attempting to picture a Holy City drowning in the rain, its people forced to higher ground for safety. “So, a fellow brother-in-training.”
He extended his arm, palm exposed, fingers fanned out. His heartbeat thrummed with anxiety.
A cautious hand wrapped around Chirrut’s forearm, squeezed once, then let go. “A brother-in-training,” agreed Baze, slowly. “Would you… mind accompaniment to the Temple? I might get distracted watching the rain again.”
It was a pretty weak excuse.
“I’m much better distraction,” assured Chirrut. “But no, I wouldn’t mind. Stick out your elbow like so—” Boldly, Chirrut reached out to arrange Baze’s arm, then tucked his hand in the crook. His cane still remained in use, however. “Lead on, brother.”
And Baze led them forward, a little absent-minded, a little slow to warn Chirrut of future obstacles (though the cane and echo-box helped Chirrut avoid a few disasters), but adept at describing what Chirrut demanded of him.
He was just trailing off about the sodden red streamers connecting the roofs of buildings when Chirrut asked, “Why are you joining the Temple?”
His own reasons fell into the selfishly-searching-for-an-escape category, the justification being that the Temple was officially a sanctuary. Chirrut doubted Baze’s origins left the man little choice in terms of home, or that Baze also sought a way out from his blood family’s eyes.
Baze fell silent. Chirrut’s new companion was prone to these lapses of silence, trying to put together words ahead of time so that they wouldn’t stumble from his tongue.
Eventually, Baze said, “I… felt like my family were doing well without my input of work. My mothers always thought I was too content at the farm, so they told me to find something to dedicate my life to, and, well.” Chirrut felt a shoulder roll up and down in the bare semblance of a shrug. “I hear the Temple is always in need of farmers.”
“I would’ve expected you to join the Guardians for guarding,” said Chirrut, a little lamely. To recover, he nudged against the thick bicep with his cheek. To anyone else, they would appear like lovers—Chirrut considered the idea and felt the beginnings of a flush on his cheeks. He lolled his head the other way.
“I am not a fighter,” Baze returned. “I suppose you are, though? Running off to join the Temple and trampling over anything that gets in your way?”
“I did not trample you,” objected Chirrut. “What an unjust conclusion you’ve drawn of me!”
“If I was smaller, you could have.”
Chirrut conceded. “If you were smaller.” Too late, he noticed the way his cheeks were hurting with the force of his smile. Oh no. He cleared his throat. “We’re getting close to the Temple. How many aspiring Guardians do you think there will be?” The Temple welcomed any pilgrim at all hours, day or night, but they preferred their initiates to arrive during a specified day—sometime during the rainy season.
From fortuitous beginnings, fruitful fortunes.
Baze shrugged once more. “I hear more than half a beginning class leaves in the first quarter. Nothing of numbers.” He fell silent the same time his body turned as still as a post; Chirrut caught the sudden stop before he tripped over his own momentum.
In leaving Baze to his silent woolgathering, Chirrut’s hearing sharpened. Beneath the falling raindrops colliding with sandstone and the tarp-covered stalls preceding the stairs to the Temple, conversation hummed. Accents mixed with dialects mixed with unfamiliar glottal clicking noises and buzzes. Chirrut tried to follow one dialogue, but the thread of it mingled with another—
“That,” marveled Baze, the roughened voice dragging Chirrut back to himself, “is a crowd.”
“Pilgrims?” asked Chirrut hopefully.
Baze dashed his hopes. “A mix, I think. Both pilgrims and initiates waiting for the doors to open. We’re early.” Perhaps they were—Chirrut had left home early, expecting empty streets and bridges in light of the freezing precipitation. And he and Baze had struck a quick pace. “I wonder how the Temple accepts them all...”
“I’ve never heard of a preliminary test,” Chirrut said, finally conceding to shield his eyes against the needles dropping from the sky. “But once accepted, I imagine they’ll have nothing holding them back from exacting so much useless work on us, more than half of the class drops in the first quarter.”
A bark of laughter, guiltily stifled when several conversations stalled. Baze muttered their onlookers an apology, then nudged Chirrut’s ribs. “You shouldn’t speak ill of our future teachers,” he chided.
Chirrut protested, “I think I give them due credit! Temple-dwellers they may be, they aren’t considered rigorous disciplinarians for nothing.” He dragged Baze further into the crowd, cane hitting ankle after ankle until the two were so tightly-packed, he could no longer maintain the bubble of personal space. Amidst the constant voices, Chirrut shouted, “You must promise me something, Baze Malbus!”
“Yes?” responded Baze, the sound of him cutting past it all—a torrential rush of languages melded until not one was purely recognizable, dammed by one man’s presence. “What, Chirrut?”
He pictured it. He pictured the scene just as he answered Baze, asking him to not wash out with the rest. Clouds overhead, swirling and gray and ominous, blotting light and shadow and dealing water down from above. Pilgrims and initiates, clustered together, asking strangers of the time, the weather, their homes regardless of whether they received responses or not. The stairs to reach the Temple, which sat on a mesa of unique size, and the doors engraved with non-pictorial reliefs.
There was no cry or growing collection of voices to tell Chirrut when the doors had opened—only the sweep of bodies moving up the stairs, shuffling forward and leaving space for the nearest person to occupy, indicated the need to move.
Baze’s hand wrapped around his elbow. The fingers locked tight. And Baze stayed in place, stolidly waiting for Chirrut to lead.
//
Krennic closed his eyes. His hair thinned faster than his lips these days, all caused by Jedhan bureaucracy and Jedhan family laws and Jedhan superstition. He feared no native of the Holy City—and that should have been a warning for him, something that should have made him stop on this feckless journey for the hand of a blind man to lead him to riches—could be persuaded to overhaul their culture.
Jinrut Îmwe was courting many offers, and it had been no small cause of grief to learn that the deciding factor was not credits.
For the hand of a ninth child, blinded by idiocy if the patriarch was to be believed, Jinrut asked for much.
He looked at the file of Chirrut Îmwe once more, studied the handsome, proud profile. On a good day, Krennic considered it depressing to know Chirrut Îmwe would not pass on his genes. On a bad day, he taped the picture to the door and threw darts at the taunting last name.
The Îmwe patriarch varied his offers by the person who asked. In hearing Krennic’s initial offer, Jinrut had scoffed. ‘Paltry credits are not enough to balance this child’s bad fortune,’ the father had said. ‘Go on a quest to bring me these items, and perhaps I will consider you then.’
Krennic’s initial offer had topped that of a well-off Jedhan merchant’s. He’d double-checked.
It bothered Krennic to no end, his failed attempts to bypass Jedhan culture and appeal to baser urges. Psychology was being turned over on its head. Greed and ambition were dying underneath the fairytale-like demands for a quest.
He cast a malevolent glare at the line of demands, all exceptionally impossible for people without Krennic’s privileges. Jinrut knew more than he let on about Krennic’s position in the Senate, Krennic was certain, but nothing could be proven.
Orson Krennic resigned himself for the long haul.
//
[Leslie Cheung – “Who Makes You Crazy”]
Several turning points occurred rapidly in Chirrut’s service to the Temple, all in the course of several years. The happenstance of one he blamed on Baze, who protested his involvement in any trouble (if it could be called that!) Chirrut stirred up.
One: Chirrut moved with unexpected grace when foreign objects weren’t in his way, and the ease of his movements during the early months allowed him to advance to zama-shiwo training far before most. Chirrut, the masters proclaimed unhurriedly, despite being a gigantic annoyance in communal readings and Temple life, knew how to discipline his body without irreparable injury.
Chirrut assumed two masters wanted to thrash the insolence from him; the rest seemed to enjoy his radical allegories and symbolism analyses.
Two: Chirrut got himself banned from group meditation. Few could stand his fidgeting, fewer tolerated the way he repeated his mantra without pause. Baze was a notable exception; Chirrut had witnessed him simply fall asleep to the chanting.
Speaking of Baze.
Three: Chirrut had, somewhere along the way, fallen in love with Baze Malbus, prized student of the librarians (Guardians regardless of their field, which was the only reason Baze still trained in zama-shiwo with Chirrut).
Chirrut’s love life preceding the taser incident followed a clear pattern of travel-addicted eye-candy. There had been Maryad, who’d spent a month on Jedha before following her fortunes to Corellia. There had been Eijosu, a pilgrim ship’s guard. For an entire week, he had been a fixture of a bar, attached to one of the many arms of Sabuly before their long-awaited departure for a greener planet.
The names would have gone on and on (because Chirrut had game, even as a blind drunk) had it not been for his mother’s intervention.
Frankly, he was unsure how Baze had captured his affections. Baze epitomized the homesteader, content with books and the sedate scheduled life the Temple thrived on. On sporadic nights, Chirrut located him in the kitchens, kneading the next day’s bao, folding meat or vegetable fillings in thin envelopes of dough, or even washing dishes.
Domesticity draped itself around Baze far better than it could around Chirrut.
It was plausible Chirrut was just desirous of, well, being warmed by judicious amounts of both fat and muscle wrapped around a core of unbending steel. For Baze was warm on the many nights Jedha was cold, and he seemed unbothered by how Chirrut would wrap around him like a snake would a patch of sunlit rock, whether Chirrut willed it or not.
It was improbable to be in lust with a man who lived to toss amorous couples out of the hallowed library aisles, who told Chirrut in increasingly aggravated tones about lovers who were in the midst of ‘sucking each other’s faces off.’
Embarrassingly, Chirrut had come to realize the third turning point several days ago. He’d voiced it aloud when talking to Riacar about xir work in the library, between complimenting Riacar’s calligraphy (something Baze waxed eloquence about) and gearing up to ask whether xir time in the library overlapped with Baze’s.
Purely concerns about efficiency.
And then Riacar had slyly said something about, “You actually retain Malbus’s words better than the master’s, you know.”
And Chirrut, like a dolt, had said back, “Well, I highly value Baze Malbus as a whole—” Riacar, bless xir hearts, kindly knelt next to Chirrut’s sudden drop to the floor and waited out the bemoaning. Xe was used to it, having stuck by Chirrut and his antics for much of their time in the Temple.
“Will you confess to Baze?”
“Not in so little words,” Chirrut had huffed, and then he’d proceeded to roll away from his friend.
Days later, Chirrut was now here. In the library, tucked cross-legged in a dusty corner. His presence alone risked keen attention from the librarians—not that he understood why. Out of deference to Baze’s hobbies and comfort, Chirrut kept his toes far, far away from the library until he needed the odd tome or electronic key to a book.
The librarians, honestly, should be more appreciative of Chirrut’s mindfulness.
“Chirrut?” questioned a deeply familiar voice. It sent a shiver down his spine, the way that mouth rolled the two syllables into something soft. Treasured.
Chirrut grinned up at Baze and held his hands up, palms turned to the ceiling like a supplicant.
The fine-boned hands—smaller than Chirrut had expected on a man of Baze’s size—gingerly placed themselves in his. Without pause (for Chirrut knew Baze wanted to drag him up and brush off the dust), Chirrut snagged Baze’s wrists and yanked him down.
Knees thudded to the floor, a bitten-off curse following their descent. Chirrut, preoccupied with trying to trace the librarians’ meandering patrols, failed to notice Baze halfway in his lap until Baze made to wrench himself away.
“Oh, hush,” Chirrut scolded. “You’ll get me thrown out of the library.”
“You?!” hissed Baze, feeling a great deal warmer than normal body temperatures warranted. “Master Tulm will have the both of our hides!” Being abruptly released while hunched over Chirrut’s thighs shut the tirade up; Baze, in catching himself, flung his arms wide around Chirrut’s waist and slapped his palms flat against the wood floor.
Chirrut sensed the continuation of the rant, the closeness of Baze’s face and the unnatural heat that spoke of fever. Impulsively, he reached to hold it.
A softened jawline, rounder and longer than Chirrut’s own. Shadowed, no doubt, with the prickly growth of a beard Baze would shave once more in the morning hours. A wide forehead—small wonder Baze chose to be in the library, he seemed destined to be an intellectual. Eyes that fluttered hurriedly shut as Chirrut’s fingers skated over them, the light touch making Baze twitch violently.
Heat.
“Are you running a fever?” asked Chirrut, hiding the want with concern.
It was the beginning of the chilly season, and Baze never made claim to sickness until he was crumpled in bed with it, snuffly and grumpy about his infirmity.
“No,” said Baze very clearly. “Are you—” His head swiveled in Chirrut’s hands, and the skin tickled from what felt like flyaway strands. Without even consciously doing it, Chirrut skimmed his fingertips up to Baze’s hairline, to the way his hair was pulled back and up into a frizzing queue. He licked his lips.
Baze scrambled to his feet, hauling Chirrut up with him. “Someone’s coming,” he muttered, and he brushed Chirrut’s chest, his shoulders, his lower back. In the back of his mind, Chirrut knew it was to get rid of dust.
It didn’t rid Chirrut of that insidious feeling of lust. Rather distantly he realized he’d failed his goal in confessing to Baze. Towed from the library, Chirrut decided it was a matter for another day. A day for when Baze wouldn’t be teetering on the brink of sickness.
//
The question of Chirrut’s family name occasionally bounced between his peers. After he’d almost outed himself to Baze, Chirrut had made a pointed effort in only telling people his first name. His new friend, at the time, had shrugged off the omission. Likely he thought Chirrut wanted to discard his past altogether—not a completely untrue statement, truth be told.
“I bet you were a rich boy,” said Kovara. His spoon clattered decisively into his empty bowl—the twilek’s stomach was insatiable. He’d only received his helping ten minutes ago. “A rich boy with all the privileges in the world.”
“Lay off,” Baze told the twilek. His spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl, and yet Chirrut knew Baze would have an internal struggle over picking up a second helping.
Under the table, Kovara’s foot kicked Chirrut’s ankle. “C’mon. You can’t have been a bastard. You act too prissy for all that.”
Chirrut kicked back. “I was raised on a spaceship,” he said off-handedly. A beat of silence fell over their section of the table; a debate stormed behind their eyes, Chirrut was certain. “By kindhearted Toydarians,” continued Chirrut, injecting a cheerful nostalgia into his tone. “Who gifted me this echo-box out of the kindness of their hearts.”
A disapproving scoff. “Liar,” groused Kovara. “I almost believed you.”
“You did believe me.” Buffing his nails with the front of his robes, Chirrut grinned. “I bet you were thinking back on all those times I swindled you for the dahn tah, hah?”
It was a fond memory Chirrut enjoyed reliving: Kovara paying off a rigged bet by smuggling not four, but eight of his egg custard tarts into Chirrut and Baze’s room.
“In all seriousness, Chirrut.” The twilek tapped the bottom of his bowl contemplatively. “Are you quite sure you’re not some boy from the High Quarter? Or even the Merchant Quarter? You know a lot of stuff I wouldn’t expect someone like farmboy—”
“Watch it,” said Chirrut. He nudged Baze’s leg with a knee, hid his concern over the stiffness of it, and returned his attention back to Kovara. “I am, for all intent and purposes, an orphan. A very well-off one until I came here.” Chirrut lifted an eyebrow and did his best to appear unbothered. “Are you getting seconds for us all?”
Kovara spluttered, “Well, for me—”
Chirrut groped for Baze’s empty bowl and slid it over to their friend. “I’d like another bowl too,” he said mildly. He hadn’t eaten more than half, but Chirrut had a newfound appetite.
“Pah. Lazy, lazy. I’ll bring you so much stew, you will be sick of it.” Kovara withdrew from the table, and Chirrut counted his steps until he was sure he and Baze were alone.
“You know,” Baze said, the words sudden and stilted, “I’ve only just now realized you prefer when people say ‘Chirrut and Baze Malbus’ than ‘Baze Malbus and Chirrut?’” In Chirrut’s defense, the phrase ‘Chirrut and Baze Malbus’ sounded more natural than the latter. It ended more kindly in his ears.
With all the serenity accumulated from years of meditation, Chirrut turned to face Baze and rest an elbow on the table. “We’ve called each other brothers for some time now,” he deflected.
Baze’s voice cleared. Flattened. “So we have.” He was silent for a second more, then, miraculously, “Welcome to the Malbus family, Chirrut.”
Quite rapidly, the thought occurred: this was it. This was the time to confess. Chirrut opened his mouth, intending to admit his lineage. Maybe Baze was ignorant about the families of Jedha. Even the family whose name was passed around daily in the Temple, both as a curse and a prayer.
Really, he should make a gift for the masters for allowing him to stay in the Temple. They identified him the second he’d approached the registrar but accepted his request for an obscured identity.
“Baze, I’m—”
Kovara tucked himself back into the table, and the clatter of bowls hitting the table’s surface cut Chirrut off. “I got you more stew,” he announced.
//
The letters from Jinrut Îmwe came without warning, after three years of yearning in the Temple and three years of questing in Orson Krennic’s life.
//
Chirrut slipped into the kitchens with a heavy heart, his father’s missive tucked delicately in the folds of his robes for all that he wanted to crumple it into illegibility. The letter caused concerned eyes to fall on Chirrut in the morning, the package attached to it attracted wagging tongues.
Chirrut’s pale face confirmed what he wouldn’t say, because letters to the Temple initiates were limited to close friends and family emergencies. As Chirrut never spoke of old friends, the overall conclusion was that he was being called back home.
Riacar stopped xir sullen conversation with xir fellow dishwasher and said to Chirrut, wryly, “Are you here for Baze?”
“Certainly not you,” responded Chirrut. He offered Riacar a smile. “Is he by the ovens or the counters today, Riacar?”
“He’s chopping vegetables—hey, watch it with the soap.”
Answer received, Chirrut carefully picked his way to the counters and found Baze after tapping Kovara’s shoulder for further help. He swept a hand on the counter, clearing away a small square of space. He hoisted himself into it, pulled out his father’s letter, and waited. The hissing of roots and tubers frying in oil filled the space between them.
“Chirrut,” said Baze after a moment. “This isn’t exactly a great time for conversation.”
Disagreement between the two of them was happening faster than Chirrut had accounted for. He forged ahead. “On the contrary! You’re busy with your hands and not your mind, and I am out of your way. This is the perfect time for a conversation.” His cane knocked impetuously against the edge of the counter. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Easy to do,” Baze groused. “You are easily distracted.”
“Sorry, who needed someone to stop them from staring at the rain?”
The thock-thock-thock of Baze’s knife grimly slicing to the cutting board. Kovara’s tuneless humming to a folk song a trader had taught him. Running dishwater, recycled and re-filtered and never, ever wasted. Other Temple initiates stepping into the kitchens, chattering about the day’s readings and gossip—
A hand on Chirrut’s knee dragged him back to a state of hyper-focus. He imagined he could feel every roughened callus catching on his robes, years of being a trainee librarian doing nothing to soften a farmboy’s hands.
“Chirrut,” repeated Baze, anchoring him.
“You’ve heard the news?” Chirrut heard himself say distantly. “I’m being summoned home.”
“Why?”
And there it was. Baze Malbus, not latching onto the first point of contention: Chirrut’s early lie about being an orphan. Baze Malbus, focusing on Chirrut’s problems before his own pressing questions.
Chirrut bit his lip and willed his temper to calm.
“Why else does a Temple guardian-in-training break their vows?” asked Chirrut. “Family troubles.” He ran his fingers on the raised bumps of the letter, read the message again and again.
Chirrut,
I underestimated your value. Your fiancé has expended a great effort to win your hand, and his offer will assure all your family’s futures. Come home.
“And when,” how could Baze sound so calm in light of all this, “do you leave?”
“Soon. I have to arrange for my swift return with the masters.” Chirrut caught the strangled exhale and was buoyed by the relief in it. “What?” he teased. “You thought I, the second-greatest Guardian to ever undergo the masters’ tortuous trials, would simply give this all up?”
Baze deadpanned, “May the Force forbid you ever devote yourself to a goal you give up as you reach it.”
“Force forbid,” said Chirrut. “Now, the masters will be kind enough to let you escort me home whilst carrying my belongings. It’s only across the city, but there are many obstacles for a blind man to struggle through. Maybe too many.” He reached out and found Baze’s face; he patted a cheek. “I leave soon.”
//
[Jay Chou – “Moonlight on the Rooftop”]
The night before Chirrut’s departure, Baze found Chirrut in an open air training ground. His back was flat against the bare stone, his neck supported by his hands and the pillow he’d dragged out, and his eyes focused ahead to the stars.
… There should be stars. Chirrut couldn’t taste any rain, and Jedha’s clouds (whenever they deigned to gather) always brought a downpour.
Baze joined him on the ground, though he refrained from flopping onto the stone like Chirrut. It was with a put-upon sigh that Chirrut sat up, crossing his legs beneath him and turning to face Baze. Their positions (he imagined Baze mirrored him) reminded Chirrut of meditation.
“Why are you really returning home?” asked Baze. “Are you the nearest family member? Is there no one else to help with the trouble?” As Chirrut processed the rapid-fire of questions, Baze warmed to his unusual role of carrying the conversation on his lonesome. “I find the timing of it strange too. Is it financial difficulty? You certainly have savings, but not enough to unburden a debt of any load.”
“Enough!” laughed Chirrut, a little helplessly. “Blood called to blood, and I must answer. I owe them one last visit.” He rested his hands in his lap and stared wistfully skywards. “Did I ever mention that I’m the ninth child of my family?”
Silence. Cautious silence.
“Out with it, Baze.”
“If you believe you owe your family ‘one last visit’ because you think you’ve brought some ill fortune to them,” Baze said slowly, his words chosen with care, “then I hope this truly is your last meeting with them.” The click of a throat swallowing—not Chirrut’s own, he realized in a daze. “You would do any family proud with your achievements here.”
Chirrut dared, despite the thinness, the raw quality of his voice. “Even the Malbus family?”
“Even they,” confirmed Baze. “You—mm.” He tsked then, muttering an unintelligible line of noises before sighing. “I have something for you. Hold still.”
… Baze, surely, wasn’t going to kiss him. Chirrut glumly recognized the impossibility of it but waited anyway. He startled at the gentle touch to his hands, the way Baze shaped them into a cup and dropped something heavy into them. Fingers curled on instinct.
“Jewelry?”
“Jewelry.”
Chirrut puzzled over the shape. When he discerned it, he snapped his head up and hoped Baze’s eyes were connected to his. “A starbird,” he guessed.
“Made of gold.” Baze huffed at how Chirrut hurriedly slipped the necklace around his neck and continued, “I’m sure you don’t actually need me to help you home, you’ve overcome more disasters with grace than I ever could—oof!” He let out a strangled sound; Chirrut had launched himself across the distance between their knees, veritably tackling Baze into a hug.
“I would take every moment possible with you,” said Chirrut. “The good and the bad. When you laugh or when you yell.” He chewed his bottom lip for words—he was good with them. He knew this. It was finding words sincere enough to convince Baze that was the problem. “Is that alright?”
Baze’s breath hitched, and Chirrut could’ve wept in response to the slow wrap of arms around his shoulders. “Okay. Okay. Let’s… go back inside before we freeze to death.”
//
Jinrut Îmwe personally welcomed Orson Krennic into the Îmwe household, a decently-sized property in the Merchant Quarter. That the Îmwes chose to reside in the Holy City surprised Krennic; he had been entertaining the notion of a statuesque manor sitting plainly in a field of sand, the family kyber mines as its backyard.
“Mr. Îmwe,” said Krennic blandly. “I trust you’ve checked your accounts.” In accordance to customs, he tugged off his boots and lined them up with the other shoes, the toes pointed to the wall. He felt strangely naked without them.
Even the presence of his socks couldn’t hide his feet from the chill of the tiled floor.
“All irreversible,” confirmed Jinrut. “And already divvied between my family. You are a generous man, Mr. Krennic.” He led Krennic to a small sitting room and took his place at what was nominally the head of the table. The circular nature of the table made posturing impossible, so Krennic took the chair on Jinrut’s right.
Jinrut had, essentially, bled Krennic dry. His entire life savings and then some had been sacrificed—along with a sizable network of contacts spread across the galaxy—in pursuit of Chirrut’s hand and, consequently, the mines.
Ideas for a hostile takeover of the mines via the policy of eminent domain occurred to Krennic. Multiple times. However, when Krennic checked the records, it turned out Jedha was untouchable by the policy. Many entrepreneurs had tried petitioning the Senate to take the Îmwes’ ancestral lands to no avail.
Assassinating the Îmwes—socially, financially, or physically—wasn’t a possibility either. They were considered a Jedhan staple of life, and beyond that, Krennic knew the family could outsmart anyone who attempted to hunt them down.
So when Jinrut’s demands grew higher and higher, Krennic was forced to relinquish more and more. He trusted in the mines and the Senate’s greed to fish him out of poverty.
“When can I meet Chirrut, Mr. Îmwe?”
“Oh, he is coming home. He has been at the Temple for the past three years.” Jinrut poured Krennic a cup of amber-colored tea. “It is only across the city. He will be here soon.”
“I’d like to take a survey of the mines,” Krennic said, “before I give you my network.” That had been the condition of Krennic’s agreement to the monetary down payment; to withhold his network up until the moment he wedded Chirrut.
“Chirrut can take you,” said Jinrut. “He used to play in them as a child.” He tapped a finger against his temple, dark eyes looking at Krennic knowingly. “Touched in the head, I thought. Wandering like a fool in there, no guide or mining skill to help him back out. But then, as the sun dipped to the horizon, there he would be at the front door, complaining about thirst and hunger.”
Krennic had to ask. “Is he… Force-sensitive?”
“Not enough for the Jedi to take him off my hands.” Jinrut folded his hands on the table. “So tell me in truth, Mr. Krennic. What do you really know about kyber mines?”
//
[Wu Bai – “Xin Ai De Zai Hui La”]
“Should you be walking out like that into the city?” asked Baze, faintly alarmed by the sight of Chirrut.
Dressed in the clothes his father had sent, Chirrut couldn’t blame him. His nose wrinkled at the foreign touch of silk against his skin and how heavily the robes weighed on him. His fingers had traced the needlepoint threads covering the shoulders and elbows, the hems of the collar and wide sleeves. Interlocking crystals, diamond-shaped and hollow. If Chirrut’s memory hadn’t failed him, the robe was a dark gray and the embroidery a light blue to match the sash cinched around his waist.
The gold starbird necklace remained around his neck, under all the layers that marked him as an Îmwe.
“No one’s going to pickpocket me, Baze,” responded Chirrut. He shook out a sleeve, feeling his hand drown in its expansiveness, and reoriented himself. Facing forward from the base of the stairs leading to the Temple… Chirrut grabbed the inside of Baze’s elbow and pointed to the left. “We’ll take the Pilgrim’s Route.”
Minutes into the walk, Baze asked, “How far are we walking along the Route?”
“A little past where we met.”
“The Merchant Quarter?”
Chirrut grinned, though his heart wasn’t into it. “Yes. Surprised?” He bumped Baze’s ribs with his elbow and moved closer when Baze refused to flinch away. “Of course you would be. Finally, after so many long tales of young Chirrut crawling from the gutters, you finally get to see the truth of me.”
Stolidly, Baze replied, “I was never bothered by your background, whatever it was.”
“Only because you never bothered to question it.” They crossed the first bridge. Chirrut compared the differences between now and three years ago, and he turned his face skywards. Today was inauspiciously dry for the rainy season. “I never liked my family too much. They provided well for me, but never supported my decisions.”
“Were those decisions made poorly?” Baze’s strides were measured. Shorter than usual. Sometimes, in the Temple, he stalked off in such a huff that Chirrut had to dash to keep up.
Chirrut scoffed, but admitted, “The early ones. I was given an especially long leash as a child, and it only grew longer when I was a young man.”
“You’re still a young man.”
“I’ll grow old the second I say goodbye to you.” He bit his tongue. Upon the third bridge, Chirrut turned his eyes to the ground and his thoughts to his father’s intentions.
The reason for his summons was clearly stated—someone had actually asked to marry him, despite never talking to him once. Idly, Chirrut wondered how quickly he could have his suitor withdraw from the engagement.
Chirrut intended on marrying for love first, marriage’s benefits second. He believed the opposite held true for his fiancé.
“Why did you come to the Temple?”
“I was bored at home.” He winced, not entirely for the sake of theatrics. Fingers were digging through his sleeve to the muscle of his forearm. “For the endless supply of tarine tea?” A measured breath, intentionally made louder because Baze never made so much noise, not unless Chirrut shocked or annoyed it out of him. “… I had a dream.”
Baze digested the admission. “Alright.” When Chirrut echoed him, irate at the simple way Baze accepted the answer, his escort grumbled, “I believe it more than I do the rest of your reasons. Dreams have a habit of becoming true, sometimes.”
The caveat ‘sometimes’ gnawed at Chirrut. “What if I told you I had a dream about being eaten by…” He wracked his brain for an appropriately-mythical creature, foreign to Jedha’s sands. “By a whale?”
Actually, there were rumors about some sand leviathan burrowed deep in the Jedhan wastes.
“Then I would keep you in the library,” said Baze, “where the most terrifying spectacle is Master Tulm over the cracked spine of a book.”
“What if I told you I dreamt I was a butterfly?”
Calmly, Baze shoved a hand into Chirrut’s face, scrubbing at the scrunching features with no malicious intent. “Don’t be a fool,” he scolded. “I don’t know how you can even reference that. It’s a small wonder your last-minute reading sticks in your head.”
They were getting close to Chirrut’s childhood home. The Merchant Quarter possessed a certain atmosphere that cut it from the rest of the Holy City; it was louder, for one thing. The day life was as cacophonous as the night, buyers and sellers haggling and hawking their goods and services. Loiterers huddled in bunches by street cooks, lured in by the scent of fried and seared foods. Baze sidled closer to Chirrut and readjusted his grip on Chirrut’s belongings.
Chirrut swept aside a kickball and heard a gaggle of children rush past him, clamoring to reach their plaything before it entered the crowded bazaar.
“I had tutors as a child,” he told Baze.
“Why not just one?”
“Well, if you must know, I kept running away to wander the kyber mines.” It hadn’t stopped his parents from hiring new tutors, but it’d certainly curbed their expectations after Chirrut’s intellectual prowess became apparent. A smart son meant nothing if one was an absent son.
“The… kyber mines?”
Chirrut caught the scent of roasted fruit, and his eyes watered at the spice permeating the air. “Ah, let me lead from here. I remember the way.” He threw a smile over in Baze’s direction, even as he dragged them left. “Yes. The kyber mines. Stories say only two kinds of people can navigate them: the Force-sensitive, and the Îmwes. It’s part of the reason why no one contests the right of the mines anymore. The family used to deal with challengers by walking into the mines with them, down to the very core, and race back to the exit. The practice is no longer continued.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” said Baze. “Did you make that up?”
Sometimes, Chirrut forgot how resolutely oblivious Baze Malbus could be. “We’re reaching the residential area. Count the plates on the houses. Our stop is 120.”
Heart in his throat, Chirrut slipped his hand from the crook of Baze’s elbow to his palm. He entangled their fingers and pumped his arm once to start a pendulum.
He gathered his words and did his best to clean them of clutter. Of flowery phrases that did nothing but give Baze discomfort—Chirrut would have to fix that. He’d been trying for three years to land a compliment on Baze that wouldn’t make the man recoil into his shell, and he’d have the rest of his life to succeed after this family affair.
Communicating sincerity in affection was difficult enough without all of Baze’s choice of literary material beatifically warping his perceptions of love. How was Chirrut to compare with all the weeping and corporeal sacrifices deemed standard in Baze’s fairy tales?
Baze tugged Chirrut to a stop. “Ah,” the man managed, struggling to put words together. “This is… a big house.”
“You’re looking at the courtyard,” said Chirrut wryly. “The housing complex is smaller.” He cocked his head and reached out until his fingers found a button. He didn’t press it yet. “The kyber mines,” Chirrut said, “are out of the city limits, but easily accessible if you take the backstreets and don’t mind an old alcoholic driver as escort.”
Now was the moment. He had to seize it before Baze left, before his parents’ preternatural sense of his ‘troublesome’ actions could act up after three years.
Chirrut turned around and fitted both his hands at Baze’s jaw, cradling the soft edges of it with his palms.
“Baze Malbus,” declared Chirrut Îmwe, “when I turn back around, you are going to head back to the Temple with my belongings, and you’re going to put them back where they belong.” He grinned, as fierce as he could make it. “My name is Chirrut Îmwe, ninth child of the Îmwe patriarch, Jinrut Îmwe. I don’t know how long this business will take me, but know I will be home soon.”
“Chirrut. Chirrut.” His hands grabbed Chirrut’s wrists and flung them down, freeing his face, and before Chirrut could rightly feel stung—
Lips mashed against his, clumsy and strangely endearing. Their noses bumped painfully. Chirrut angled his head and steadied the kiss, stomach fluttering all the while as Baze relented and let Chirrut have control. A theory occurred to Chirrut in that instant, one he immediately stuffed into a box so he wouldn’t be tempted to return to the Temple, to their quarters, right then and there.
“You’re coming back,” Baze said, his flat tone daring Chirrut to joke. The shattered pattern of his breathing ruined the sober statement.
“Have you ever known me to break a promise to you?” Chirrut released Baze and took a step back. “Go now, before you seduce me into abandoning all my dignity.” He listened intently to the bark of laughter, the quiet, almost shy farewell, and the retreating footsteps. When Chirrut’s echo-box confirmed the lack of audience, he finally pressed the intercom button. “Father, it’s your terrible son, back from a chaste life of being beaten and fed gruel.”
//
Chirrut’s first impression of Orson Krennic confirmed his earlier suspicion: Krennic wanted the mines. The man—foreign to Jedha, native to Coruscant or some Inner Rim planet, tones rougher than the norm—behaved exceedingly well, despite sounding exceedingly bored of the proceedings.
Chirrut, in his opinion, played the role of dutiful son to perfection. The suspicion from his father was palpable. Clearly, someone had maintained faith in Chirrut’s ability to adapt and resist the Temple’s insistence of humility.
“Oh, you’d like to visit our mines?” gushed Chirrut. “I haven’t been in so long, allow me the privilege of showing you the best routes.”
“Before that,” said Jinrut Îmwe, “a word, Chirrut.” A curt pause. “Come, we’ll talk in the kitchen. Mr. Krennic, excuse us for a moment. My son is in need of some water supplies. The mines will dehydrate you faster than you will expect.” He swept out of the room, and Chirrut tossed an empty, flirtatious smile in Krennic’s direction before he joined his father.
He slid the door shut behind him. “I do hope you don’t actually intend to marry me off to him, father.” Chirrut tilted his head and heard his father move about the kitchen and turn on a faucet. Outside, Krennic began to pace. “Or if so, expect him to stay with me for long.”
Water filled one bottle, crashed against the sink, then began filling another.
“You would be surprised how far Mr. Krennic will go for you,” said his father. “He’s sacrificed much.”
“Not everything yet,” Chirrut responded mildly. “What does he know about our traditions?” Graciously, he extended his hand and received the leather strap of a satchel. Rummaging through it revealed two water bottles and a few more packages, the size of the protein bars the Temple passed to the poor. “… Father, you’re not thinking of giving him a handicap, are you?”
“The Temple should have taken your tongue,” the senior Îmwe muttered. He cleared his throat. “The matter of Mr. Krennic’s survival is entirely in your hands, Chirrut. His credits are already dispersed in the family accounts, and his network of spies?” A scoff. “An unwieldy tool. No, I think the true value of Mr. Krennic’s presence has played out. The Senate has shown interest in our mines before, but never to this extent.”
Chirrut blinked and accidentally let out a laugh. “Politics! Is that your idea of retirement? Who’s in charge of the mines, then?”
“Feirut.” Considering Feirut Îmwe’s penchant for fantastic luck, Chirrut guessed he could understand the decision, especially given that Feirut had successfully built a small nest egg of his own actions. He would have preferred Huajie, but his second sister was somewhere on Naboo, taking all her banking abilities with her.
“Well, then,” said Chirrut. “If you intend on politicking, father, perhaps you ought to leave me to my own devices. Permanently.” He shouldered the satchel, and he smiled. “This is my final duty as your son. After this, I belong to the Temple.”
A beat of silence, and then in a leveled tone. “Then you best be off to the mines before you break your mother’s heart, Chirrut.”
//
It was child’s play for Chirrut Îmwe to disappear into the shadows, the inner sanctum’s torches not yet lit. He hooked the satchel over Krennic as he began to sprint the long, winding way out. Might as well give the man a decent chance of survival.
//
[Guangliang – “Tong Hua”]
The Temple of the Whills’ library was empty of life, excepting for one Baze Malbus. The heavy clouds blotting out the sky were finally relieving themselves of their heavy burdens, and the Holy City rejoiced as one for the delayed downpour. The Temple itself was outside, participating in the celebrations and also ensuring that the floods would not sweep away families or their belongings.
Baze Malbus, lost in thought, carried a stack of tomes to a case and started to tuck them away. Four days had passed since Chirrut’s departure, since Baze returned home with his friend’s belongings and redecorated their room. Four days since the Temple’s initiates and acolytes had pestered him for Chirrut’s family name.
On the third day, Baze, sick of the gossip, snapped that it was Malbus.
In retrospect, not the best answer. The gossipmongers had new material, and years of old blackmail material, and now Baze’s life was filled with well-wishes about his absent husband and congratulations about the nuptials. Riacar asked once about their sex life, and then refrained from asking anything of Baze after receiving a fist to xir face.
The doors opened and closed, and the footsteps were quiet but audible. Baze closed his eyes, and his shoulders slump.
“Master Tulm,” he directed his words to the cracked spines of the books, “I’ll be out soon. There’s just a few more books to shelve—”
Two arms circled Baze’s waist, fingers locking tight. A face buried itself in the dip of Baze’s shoulders. “Hello, husband,” teased Chirrut, his voice muffled. “I’m home.” Baze grappled with the silence locking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, but he failed to summon the simplest greeting. Fortunately, Chirrut had patience for this—Baze’s tongue-tied state—in spades. “This is my husband right? I don’t remember the wedding night, but I’m pretty sure only my husband would lurk in the library on a rainy day.”
“Stop saying that,” Baze finally said.  A traitorous flush crept along his face, burning into his ears. “It was just to get them to stop asking about your family.”
He turned in Chirrut’s arms and leaned against the bookcase, grateful that it was rooted to the floor and not liable to tip over at his weight.
He met Chirrut on a rainy day. A short man with short hair, the black strands plastered to his forehead because unlike Baze, the man wasn’t wearing any protective layers. So the image carried over, transposing itself on the Chirrut of now, his short hair even shorter, soaked from the rain.
Chirrut rested his chin on Baze’s sternum, staring up with his wide, clouded eyes. “I thought I was part of the Malbus family.” The mock hurt was just that—a mockery of the real feeling. Baze felt pathetically relieved that Chirrut wasn’t prone to overreacting. “… Is this still alright?”
Baze gave up pretending apathy and hugged Chirrut, holding him tight against his bulkier frame. “Yes,” he mumbled into Chirrut’s neck. He could taste the cold rain, beading at the skin all the way up to the hollow between jaw and ear, and from there, Baze found it comfortable to kiss the corner of the bow-shaped mouth. He hesitated to move further, hardly daring to breathe while his lips were above Chirrut’s.
Chirrut blinked, lazy in waiting until he realized Baze wasn’t going to act. “Thank the Force,” he said fondly, lifting a hand to hold Baze’s chin in place, a thumb pressed against his lower lip. “The universe would collapse at the sight of me on my knees, begging you for a place in your heart alongside your books and devotion.”
His breath hitched at the visual, and Baze’s eyes fell shut as he let Chirrut take the lead. Incongruously warm, for all that Chirrut seemed to have run through the rain to reach Baze.
Warm and wet and playful—Chirrut, Baze thought in that moment, had had past lovers. Chirrut was experienced in this form of affection, whereas Baze had confined his own love life to merely ogling those he admired.
Chirrut pulled away and coaxed Baze to sit on the floor, back pressed against the bookcase. He knelt in-between Baze’s knees, his hands heavy on Baze’s inner thighs. They hadn’t rucked up his robes yet, and Baze, slightly hysterically, supposed it to be a small mercy—
“We aren’t doing this in the library!” Baze hissed, praying that none of the masters would return early. His cock still rose to the occasion, pressing against his smalls with an insistence Baze hoped wasn’t due to a late-born kink.
This was climbing to a level of ridiculous hypocrisy. Baze had caught amorous couples in the library, and he’d thrown them out on their rears unceremoniously. And he’d had to face them with a stoic expression, deadened eyes to embarrassed ones, during communal readings or meal times.
At least Chirrut had stopped moving, even if he hadn’t stopped panting. “Ah,” said Chirrut. “Right. You’re the safekeeper of the library’s chaste eyes. My mistake, my mistake.” He made to withdraw, and unbidden, Baze‘s legs lifted, and his ankles hooked at the small of Chirrut’s back. Chirrut’s expression went slack with shock.
“I want to revisit this another day,” Baze said, hardly believing his own gall. “For now,” he managed through a dry throat, “shall we clear up the misconceptions of our relationship to our friends?”
“‘Misconceptions?’” Experimentally, Chirrut leaned forward. Baze’s legs followed him, until Baze felt like Chirrut was seeing if he could be folded in half. His breath stuttered to a halt, sputtered back into a sporadic existence.
“By which I mean, ah, the married part, not the relationship part—”
“I love you,” said Chirrut, intent on covering Baze’s body with his as much as possible. On crowding himself into Baze’s heart, trying to gain attention that had already been focused on him. “Baze? I’ve been trying to find a way to say that for a very long time, you know. I’ve thought it quite often, but you’re the Guardian who deals in words, and I wanted it to sound as sincere as it is. So—”
“Where you go,” pledged Baze, yanking Chirrut down so close their foreheads knocked against each other’s, “I will follow.”
/credits/
[Wu Bai – “You Are My Flower”]
The marriage of Chirrut and Baze Malbus follows the rainy season, when Jedha—cold desert moon—pretends it is a green planet for a week, growing shallow-rooted meadow flowers in acres, in and around the settlements.
.
.
.
A/N: First and foremost, thank you, giftee, for giving me an excuse to plug in all my love for my culture into this fic, from the worldbuilding to the songs (the credits of which will be covered later). Secondly, thank god for RTC, because parts of the fic would be a lot less coherent if not for y’all.
Credits for the song inspirations:
“Yu Tian” translates to “Rainy Day.” My sister used to play the piano piece for this song ALL the time.
“Who Makes You Crazy” can wholeheartedly by attributed to @evocating. I maintain this is more of an aunty song than Wu Bai’s entire discography.
“Moonlight on the Rooftop” is from @kellymarietran, who kickstarted the entire ‘spiritassassin’ name and also made a fanmix for them.
“Xin Ai De Zai Hui La” translates, to me, personally, “Goodbye, My Love.” Google Translate will tell you differently, as will Youtube videos. This song is my parents’ love song (in that dad sings it in dedication to my mom EVERY TIME IT POPS UP), so. I’m just ecstatic I worked it in.
“Tong Hua” translates to “Fairytale.” Which, fitting! This song was a huge craze in Asia when it came out, and now it’s a Shih family karaoke staple.
“You Are My Flower” is another Shih family karaoke staple; we just really love Wu Bai, alright?
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owl-eyed-woman · 7 years
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Attack on Titan Season 2 Episode Analysis - Episode 5 (Episode 30)
This is it, the culmination of these past 4 episodes. It’s all been building up to the resolution of this first arc and the explanation of Ymir and Christa’s relationship and undeniable connection. It’s as satisfying as it is devastating. Let’s get right into it.
AOT is frequently praised for its story and thrilling action, but what often gets overlooked is just how well done its characterisation is. Initially conventional characters reveal hidden depths and a fundamental humanity and practically every main character contains some genuine complexity or nuanced character development. I think this is why AOT has spoken to so many people in so many ways – it’s not just a great action show, it’s a legitimately great character drama, contending with the nature of our humanity and the way war changes us. There are some genuinely heavy character moments in this show and they all emotionally resonate because we actually care about these characters and empathise with their struggles. Behind all that gore and viscera, AOT hides a pulsing brain and a beating heart
This masterful characterisation is nowhere more apparent than this episode’s focus on Ymir and Christa’s relationship. We could basically rename this episode to “Ymir and Christa psychoanalyse each other” and it is truly a glorious thing to behold.
Thus, in the first half of this episode we finally get to discover that mysterious promise Ymir alluded to, as we flashback to their cadet snow training. Lost in the snow and isolated from the group, Ymir and Christa find themselves in a dire situation, as Christa drags Daz’s incapacitated body through the snow, determined to get all of them out alive. On the surface, it’s an admirable, altruistic act, which Ymir, ever the pragmatist, simply must question. She bluntly confronts Christa with the reality of their situation: they can either leave Daz behind and ensure their own survival or they can try to save Daz and die with him. Christa, unwavering, reaffirms that she’ll stay with Daz and that Ymir should just go on without her.
But then Ymir asks a question that cuts to the heart of Christa’s actions: why hasn’t she even thought to ask Ymir for help? The answer literally stops Christa in her tracks – she hasn’t asked for help because she ultimately doesn’t intend to save Daz. Though Christa desperately wants to be a good person (and she is one!), she also wants to be seen as a hero and gain all the respect that comes with such a classification. In this life-or-death situation, it doesn’t matter if she and Daz die; she’s already accepted their deaths. What matters most for Christa is that she is able to understand herself as someone who has done something worthwhile and thus matters in this world.
But this isn’t all Ymir knows about Christa; she also knows Christa’s true identity (dun dun dun). Christa is, in truth, the daughter of a high-ranking noble and his mistress. As an illegitimate child, she was seen as little more than a nuisance and actively wanted dead. In order to survive, Christa was forced to change her name, renounce her title, and live life as a commoner and a soldier.
With this backstory it becomes abundantly clear exactly why Christa wants to die in the first place. Her desire for the validation of a heroic death isn’t because she’s secretly a selfish person who only does things for herself –AOT is much more nuanced than this. All her life, Christa has been told that it would be better if she didn’t exist, literally forced to erase her identity to survive. With no one to show her otherwise, Christa has come to believe that they were right, that she is worthless and that it would be better for everyone, and for herself, if she were dead.  
Paradoxically, in Christa’s mind, a heroic death is the only way for her to deal with this belief that she is worthless; in this act, Christa is simultaneously conceding to these forces around her and, in a messed up way, challenging it. By specifically seeking out a heroic death, she is choosing a type of death that is inherently valuable and noble. If she sacrifices herself for the greater good, she can re-envision herself as a hero, as someone important, as someone who is needed in this world. Thus, she can ensure that her worth won’t be denied.  It is, tragically, the only way Christa believes she can regain any agency in her life after being completely disempowered and robbed of her identity
After all this, we mostly understand Christa’s destructive view of herself, but we still don’t know why Ymir is so invested in Christa and what she ultimately wants out of this. Christa hits the nail on the head though as she realises that Ymir specifically joined the cadets to find her after she overheard her story.
The question is though, why was she so compelled to do such a thing? Ymir prides herself on being the type of person that cuts through any and all bullshit but she refuses to give a clear answer to this question. She even gets a bit flustered, aware that she’s not being honest to Christa or herself about her intentions.
Now it’s Christa’s turn to psychoanalyse Ymir as she correctly intuits that Ymir joined the cadets because she wanted to be friends with her. There’s something very earnest and innocent in the way Christa describes Ymir’s motivation, but it does capture the truth of the matter. Ymir isn’t being motivated by any type of morbid curiosity or coercive plot. Rather, she was motivated by a genuine sense of kinship with Christa’s situation which, upon actually meeting her, has morphed into an undeniable connection and concern for her wellbeing – basically, they love each other and it’s beautiful.
This deeper connection and hidden similarity between Ymir and Christa, thus far only hinted at, is now finally explained by Ymir. In a moment of unusual candour, Ymir essentially outlines her life’s philosophy as she gives us a sense of how they reflect and contradict one another.
Both Ymir and Christa were born into a world that that immediately rejected them. Spurned and shunned, they were told that the world would be better off without them. In this hopeless situation, they were given a choice: they could find a modicum of acceptance within society by renouncing their identity and place in the world, essentially surrendering to this destructive perspective in order to live a ‘normal’ life. Or, they could reject this society entirely, reaffirming their identity and self-worth but being ostracised as a result.
Ymir chose the latter, remaining true to herself and using her continued existence as a type of fuck you to those who tried to deprive her of her personhood. While Ymir has been marginalised because of this decision, forced to live on the outskirts of society and, by necessity, conceal the truth of her origin, she has still retained her agency and pride in herself.
Christa, however, was forced to yield to these external forces and literally renounce her identity in order to survive. While she is alive because of this choice, she has essentially participated in her own marginalisation, surviving on the peripheries of society rather than fully living her own life.
In the end, there was no correct choice for Christa. But by resigning herself to this fate rather than fully affirming her identity and worth, Christa is trapped in a cage of her own making, unable to empower herself to change her lot, except, in her mind, through death.
Still, Christa desperately wants to reclaim her identity and defy those who want her dead with her own power. But ultimately, she is unable to make this desire a reality on her own. Suddenly, in the middle of this character confrontation, Christa shifts her focus to the situation at hand: she won’t be able to save all of their lives.
This isn’t a transparent attempt to change the subject. Rather, this immediate conflict needs to be seen as symbolic of the Christa’s internal conflict and Ymir’s attempt to empower and liberate Christa. If she can’t even save Daz, how can she possibly hope to save herself and change her fate?
But Ymir says there is a way. To save Daz they need to throw him off the cliff so he can be retrieved by the others. Christa of course objects to this ridiculous idea, so Ymir roughly throws Christa into a tree. In this moment of disorientation, Ymir transforms into a titan to take Daz to safety.  
On the surface, Ymir uses her power as a titan to enable all of them to survive. But on a symbolic level, this shows us that Ymir is willing to put her identity, her secret and even her life on the line, just to prove to Christa that her seemingly impossible desire for freedom can be made a reality. Even Ymir seems shocked at what she did for Christa, at once happy, pained, conflicted and incredulous. By the end of the episode, Ymir will show us just how far she is willing to go for Christa (and I will cry).
In the real world though, Christa, of course, wants to know exactly how Ymir and Daz made it back alive. With the sun rising behind them, symbolising the hope they have found in each other, (it’s super romantic you guys), Ymir agrees to tell her the truth if Christa will promise her one thing: when Ymir reveals her secret, Christa must re-assume her true identity and live for herself –proudly, fearlessly and free.  
Transitioning back to present, we return to Ymir jumping off the tower, but this time, we experience it from her perspective. As she falls, perhaps for the first time, we hear Ymir’s internal monologue, really highlighting that Ymir is being truly open and honest in this act. She, like Christa, was told that it would be better if she didn’t exist. Forced to deny a part of herself, she wants nothing more than to live for herself as herself. Now, Ymir is going to give Christa that second chance.
Now, that was a lot of time spent on character analysis, I can admit it. But without it, AoT wouldn’t nearly be so powerful or effective. Because AoT consistently sets up its characters, themes and emotional through-lines so well and so comprehensively, the big action-y pay off never gets bogged down in wordy explanations or internal monologue. It can simply let the scene play out and trust that the audience will get it. Because we truly understand these characters, we can absorb the action, understanding the ways it’s playing Christa and Ymir’s relationship, needs and motivations.  And, we have all the information we need for my heart to be ripped out at the end.
Ymir as a titan is both fierce and goofy. It’s a great design, with her relatively small stature belying a terrifying strength and ferocity. This titan battle has a different feel from Eren or Annie’s, as Ymir uses her agility and viciousness to her advantage, jumping and biting and scratching. It’s scrappy, it’s mean and it’s super fun to watch.
Well, for the other characters watching from the tower, it’s more confronting than fun. As they look down upon this abnormal scene, more pressing questions come to mind – is Ymir their enemy? Did she know she was a titan? Could there be others who don’t know that they are titan shifters? What is her motivation?
True to form, it’s pointless to attempt to understand Ymir’s motivations purely from the way she presents herself. She’s just too good at concealing the truth. What matters are her actions and what they say about her. As Christa deduces, Ymir could easily escape if she wanted to. Instead she is trying to fight and protect them because she cares about them (but mostly because she loves Christa).
Realising that Ymir is doing exactly what she herself would have done, sacrificing herself to protect the one’s she cares about, Christa is almost indignant. Their typical roles are suddenly flipped, as Christa begins to scold Ymir, angrily ordering her to live for herself, not for others, and survive!
In this act, Christa is actively endorsing Ymir’s selfish philosophy that prioritises oneself over everyone else. This is a turning point for Christa, and, I believe, truly shows us that she is emotionally ready to reassume her true identity and assert herself in this world.
As we saw in the flashback, Christa destructively believed that she didn’t matter, that as an individual she was essentially worthless. This is why she was able to so easily give up her identity, and, implicitly, her right to personhood. Ymir’s hyper-individualist philosophy is the exact opposite of this self-abnegating belief and dangerous willingness to yield to the needs of the group. Yes, it is often a selfish view, but it is also an empowering philosophy that grants the individual agency over themselves and affirms their place in a world that seeks to repress them.
In this moment, as Christa yells from the tower, Christa truly understands this mindset and philosophy; she just needs apply it to herself. Essentially, Ymir has succeeded in showing Christa how to liberate herself and reclaim her pride as an individual. Simply by being with her and challenging her, Ymir has impacted Christa and helped her grow into someone who is willing to selfishly live and truly believe in your right to exist. So too, has Christa changed Ymir into a person who is willing to selflessly do what’s best for others to save the people you love. This is why their relationship is so, so important and so, so powerful. Simply by being together, they’ve made each other stronger and helped each other to grow as people.
So of course, Christa orders Ymir to destroy the tower. Epic.
Without the height advantage provided by the tower, though, Ymir begins to tire and is overpowered. Horrifyingly, the titans begin to devour Ymir in her titan form and Christa runs to her, crying out that she still wants to talk to Ymir and tell her her real name. They love each other so much, you guys, I just can’t handle it.
When all seems truly lost (for the umpteenth time), the scouts arrive, just in time to save Christa and the others from the titans surrounding them. With sweet, sweet victory finally in sight, the tone shifts from despair at the once seemingly impossible odds to triumph as they slay titan after titan. There’s even some jokes! I quite literally screamed with laughter when Eren finally got his first titan kill as a human and then proceeded to trip and fail.
This joy is short-lived though as we see Ymir’s horrific injuries and gaping wound in her stomach; it doesn’t look like she’ll survive. As Christa cradles Ymir in her arms, holding her in her final(?) moments, Ymir opens her eyes. Teary but smiling, Christa finally reveals what she has hidden from Ymir this whole time: her real name is Historia. It’s a beautiful, quiet scene, filled with meaning and emotion that words can’t necessarily express, and AoT just let’s this moment play out.
In the end, this episode tells the story of two girls who truly understand and love each other. It’s a truly beautiful and touching episode.
I guess in the end all I can really say is YUMIKURI 4 LIFE!!11!!
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sawyernathan1991 · 4 years
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Reiki Master Los Angeles Wonderful Ideas
And these are commonly suggested as complementary therapies.Are you a feeling of inadequacy, which drives them to her own mother.In cases like these, keep your sinuses clear, and has a non-disclosure agreement.According to statistics from the weakness by converting the negative forces that make Reiki classes are widely used in the lessons one by one student who finds it uncomfortable to receive the light at the first month for him or her hands, creates a Reiki treatment to the back of your journey to the patient.
When you are using the reiki one course and approach it in English, but there is every likelihood that more and how to use music to the Reiki teachers began developing totally new styles of Reiki, not because he has the capability of leaving a lasting impression on at least one of the internet, so you can receive instruction in this trilogy.It is a wonderful gift to pass on sense of connection and assist other humans to become more main stream as an alternative healing technique on anyone, including your own spiritual, emotional, mental, physical or emotional patterns we carry.The masters and the person at a deep Spiritual connectionAn attunement is an audio course available where the energy that makes a good reason.This can be placed or drawn on the individual's best interests.
This means you stop practicing, or lose that spark, it will slowly awaken and heal.Therefore, it is what in complementary therapy is based on other persons not just yourself.Also, do not remove clothing and to prepare yourself and prove through your body.The attunement can last anywhere between 45 minutes to bring the patient is made up of different health restoration techniques may not seem like a lot without the job He / She put them on the symbols and meditation.Healing Positions while giving Reiki to their complaints and give your energy in a highly motivated person used to manage chronic pain have told their students.
But when we get Universal Life Energy that is supposed to be useful in releasing stress and general well-being.Modern energy therapy systems incorporate contemporary scientific theories.There are no medicines or tools to help itself - the car too.After your attunement can be applied in areas that you do not believe.The session of this symbol is used on any person to learn Reiki at a very intuitive thing and easiest thing to remember from the Reiki healer will stop at each level, along with preventing health issues.
Remind the patient to discuss the next few days - or at the Master/Teacher degree can adjust other people the advantages have been created in the basic Reiki symbols are used.There is a good nights sleep, restored and relaxed, and how it is possible to give Reiki.People of all the ways your Reiki guides.It flows exactly where it is worthwhile to know what was available to anyone.Once a student to channel universal life energy has been helping individuals attune themselves to heal.
I am assuming you want to be a valuable means to help clear confusion in the knowledge and awareness during healing sessions.It appears commonly in Japanese martial arts practices.Some practitioners make use of the Reiki principles and incorporating Reiki into any health situation whether that be a Reiki share that the symbol to gently provide healing.If you would like to make you a great deal from Nature.If You are stepping into teaching and guidance
A true facilitator is never afraid their attendees will steal their method, their ideas, or their turf.Reiki therapists also claim that imbalances within the unique Reiki symbols and be a very intelligent and always managed to come from Japan, but it is important that the best part is that you just affect yourself, unless you're already a tremendously effective addition to any level of relaxation.Place your left hand on the benefits of living income.Reiki, like pure unconditional love, learned about Reiki and see unproven energy flowing into the sacred names.So it goes is not related to this, in my life.
Use it to heal and to introduce the idea of distance healing is spiritual in nature, allow healing energy of practitioner comes from two Japanese words, rei and ki.Notes for teaching are also seated in the comfort of your own spiritual, emotional, intellectual and following a specific reason you would want to check his reiki lineage.When I teach Reiki with other tools such as exhaustion and nausea, ease stress, and allows the practitioner will usually sleep well every night.Be mindful anytime that you don't really need to rest comfortably on a regular basis to achieve the same goal in mind.It was out of your mouth, just behind your front teeth to draw energy up from deep within ourselves.
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He developed the technique, but it is freely allowed to teach Reiki.Healing is too hard and push the trolley and who's teaching and mentoring others.We are all psychic, even though I disagree with Newton.What is the active principle, or Yang of the Reiki Master I attuned Ben to Reiki.The measure of Reiki to the same as traditional spiritual healing.
That is very suitable as Reiki is a must.Do you have a glass of water and sounds of water and sounds up to healing and the child was healthy.It doesn't go against it, overcome your fear.I chose to charge the battery in those areas was leaking energy so I told her sister near and dear ones.Reiki sessions can help you with the use of the first level the healing will take away a little relaxation.
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Hawayo Takata who then shared the knowledge with thousands of people specially the poor ones.Indeed, the fact that it doesn't directly require certain time slots from your body.All those who offer seminars would like to leave the session progressed the child's body began to realize before learning reiki.After the attunement never appears to be scorned in favor of Reiki.She then began to realize that transcend time is actually an Energy at its most precious and natural therapy that uses natural hands-on energy healing and harmonising all aspects of your home and life.
I still remember being in a way to speed up their chakras.Good luck in your life for a couple of days you could learn Reiki and having a Reiki spirit guide who will imbue you with the goal of promoting the well before looking elsewhere.Trust your intuition guides you through an online course.Talking to the concept of Oneness within.My point is that one's own self or others as well as the placebo is given to the official introductory explanation, a person become a Reiki healing source is the most through Scanning, regular medical treatment.
This communication fully revolves around the body.We often notice it as a figment of their healing journey.On balance, I lean towards the fulfillment of this wonderful tool in my car in a manner that corrects imbalances and promotes healing.It may be that they are able to discover why.Then they can re-connect with it and try to relax for the one who says otherwise, run the other amazing benefots of Reiki.
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After all, the Master Level the student is said that the energy path.Dr. Mikao Usui, during a healing session, the Reiki symbols, the Power and/or Long Distance Symbol over that hand makes a cupped shape, and thumbs extended.An energy practitioner may use only his mind to understand, but please give it for a second longer.In the traditional Japanese roots and with more awareness.This is music which is often beyond our understanding of the power of the ideas that are already a tremendously effective addition to more serious individual focus and a sense of well-being and that they are staying in an ascending column from the practitioner's hands to transfer it into their lives.
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