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stevepotterwrites · 3 years

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An Appreciation of the Life and Work of Joanne Kyger

The bio in the back of On Time, Joanne Kyger’s collection of poems written between 2005 – 2014, describes her as, “One of the major women poets of the SF Renaissance.” That is, of course, correct, but I would make a case for removing the word “women” from the sentence. While I’m sure the intention of including that gender signifier was to emphasize the importance of her position as a woman in what was largely a man’s world/boy’s club, its placement before “poets” in the sentence diminishes rather than enhances her standing. It reeks of “pretty good for a girl” condescension, unintended as that may be.

Joanne Kyger was one of the major poets of the San Francisco Renaissance coterie, period. She was a woman. She was a woman who, despite operating in what was largely a man’s world/boy’s club, became a major member of that club. But even that SF Renaissance signifier, while more accurate than the Beat Generation designation emphasized in her New York Times obituary and useful in placing her in time and place and lineage, seems unnecessarily limiting. In his introduction to As Ever, her selected poems released in 2002, Kyger’s longtime friend and fellow poet, David Meltzer, says of the atmosphere in the late ’50s when they first met:

“It’s important to remember (or realize) that those days were before literary academicians freeze-framed them into ‘movements or ‘generations.’ The slickest, surest way to defang dissent and creative doubt is to accept it and (ugh) incorporate it into glossy narratives circulated throughout institutional castle culture. (A big irony many tapdance around.) Even then, Joanne was a thoughtful and thinking (and self-effacing) poet of deep innate knowing. Her early work was distinctly complex, personal, and resistant to expectations.”

So how about something like this: Joanne Kyger was a thoughtful and thinking and self-effacing poet whose distinctly complex and personal work made her a major figure in the SF Renaissance/Beat Generation orbit. That self-effacing quality is what gives poems such as “Town Hall Reading With Beat Poets” and “Bob Marley Night Saturday Downtown” and “Fact Checking” their charm. Her poems are at once deep and learned yet casual and conversational. They are also often quite funny. She comes across as a poet who took her poetry seriously while not overly-concerned with being taken seriously herself.

There is more to her poetry than self-deprecating humor, of course. A great sense of reverence is on display throughout her work when engaging with mythological themes, her Zen Buddhist studies, interactions with the natural world, and considerations of the lives and deaths of friends. From the poems in her first book, The Tapestry and the Web, published in 1965, to the late work collected in On Time, Kyger’s writing displays a marvelous way of finding the mythic in the mundane and revealing the mundane in the mythic. Here is how “Pan as the Son of Penelope,” probably her best-known poem, begins:

Refresh my thoughts of Penelope again

Just HOW solitary was her wait?

I notice Someone got to her that

barrel chested he-goat prancing around w/ his reed pipes

is no fantasy of small talk. More the result of BIG talk

and the absence of her husband.

In his thought-provoking essay, “The Great(ness) Game,” David Orr discusses how Elizabeth Bishop’s stature has risen posthumously while her friend Robert Lowell’s once-towering reputation has been in decline. It would not surprise me to find Joanne Kyger’s stature ratcheted upward by a similar recalibration of reputations in years to come while those of some of her better-known male peers and predecessors in the SF Renaissance/Beat pantheon are demoted. As a stunningly lovely, yet delicate, voice like Billie Holiday’s or Karen Dalton’s would be difficult to hear when a big booming voice like Pavarotti’s was bellowing nearby, so, too, a subtle poetic sensibility, like Joanne Kyger’s, can get drowned out when there’s a big personality like her friend Ginsberg Howling nearby. Not to mention Duncan and Spicer and Snyder and Whalen and McClure and Berrigan and others. She moved in serious circles.

But life is life and death is death. Reading the books of dead poets after their time has passed and their legends have cooled is a different thing than reading the living. Sometimes the poet of the moment isn’t a poet for the ages. Tastes change and change again. Who knows what the literary landscape of the late Twentieth and early Twenty-first Centuries will look like to readers a hundred years hence. In his essay, Orr quotes a passage from J. D. McClatchy wondering about how Bishop could be claimed as the favorite predecessor poet of contemporary poets as varied as John Ashbery, James Merrill and Mark Strand. Orr takes a stab at an answer: “It’s possible, one might answer, because Bishop was a great poet, if we take ‘great’ to mean something like ‘demonstrating the qualities that make poetry seem interesting and worthwhile to such a degree that subsequent practitioners of the art form have found her work a more useful resource than the work of most if not all of her peers.’” I predict that Kyger’s work will be similarly deemed a useful resource by poets to come.

The Times obituary includes Kyger’s poem “Night Palace” but, for some reason, they did not format the poem, which was composed in projective breath units and spaced on the page in the composition by field manner, as written. That’s a shame. The spacing, in large part, makes the poem the poem it is. It’s not unusual to come across poems laid out in the composition by field manner for which reformatting them with a standard left margin justification doesn’t detract much from the poem. Sometimes it’s little more than ornament. This is not the case with “Night Palace,” a fine example of how much emotional information can be conveyed by spacing and placement on the page in the hands of someone who fully understands the approach.

Her poem “Elegant Simplicity” written May 22, 2007 ends:

Demons are more or less human in appearance Monsters are more animal like

The first soul or spirit that resides in a person is immortal

The second soul is the animal spirit you acquire at birth with a real counterpart animal spirit roving around in the world.

If it dies, you die That’s it.

Joanne Kyger’s real counterpart animal spirit died in March of this year, so that was it, but her poetry will live on and, I suspect, gain greater prominence in the years to come.

By Steve Potter. Previously published in The New Black Bart Poetry Society’s Parole Blog.

https://thenewblackbartpoetrysociety.wordpress.com/2021/03/21/set-four/

#joanne kyger #american poet #beat generation #san francisco renaissance #bolinas california

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howaboutleeches · 5 years

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Hiya! I was wondering if you could do headcanons with the main 6 who has a m!mc who usually is very fun, happy, boisterous, etc. But, one day they find m!mc sobbing and come clean about how he tries to keep all his negative emotions inside because he hates feeling like a burden and is actually very insecure about himself and believes deep down that he isn’t good enough for them.

Warnings: self deprecation, might be triggering

Unfortunately I could find any gifs that suited the context, but I'll do my best with the writing part.

Enjoy 💕

How would the main 6 react to you being secretly insecure (Headcanon)

Asra

🔮 Asra is constantly out of the shop. Helping other people, looking for new ingredients or cleaning someone else's mess. He told you that he would be out for the day, and would only return at dawn. He kissed you goodbye and went on his way.

🔮 When he arrived at his destination, the problem was already solved, so he turned back and went to the shop, several hours earlier than you expected. He decided to make it a surprise, so he snuck from the back and saw you sitting on the floor with your back turned to him. He tiptoed to you and gave you a big scare. When you turned around, face swollen, nose red and teary eyes, he thought it was his fault.

🔮 He instantly pulled you to his lap wrapping your body with his arms and asked you what was wrong, what happened and who made you cry. It took you some time to actually stop crying and tell him that you were the problem.

🔮 He held your face and looked deep into your eyes before saying "You're the most precious boy I've ever met. You don't have to be happy all the time, especially around me. You can always be yourself here. I love you no matter what".

🔮 He just holds you for a while, stroking you back gently and rocking both of your bodies in a calm motion. He also gives you a peck on top of your head from time to time.

🔮 Faust slithers in into the hug and curls around your head and licks your face playfully saying things like "Friend cute", "Friend nice", "Friend worthy", "I love friend!"

Nadia

👑 She was going to be solving some issues with the courtiers the whole day and kissed you goodbye early in the morning. You decided to stay in your shared bedroom and just lazy around.

👑 After sometime laying down, you got bored and decided to explore the huge castle a little. Strolling down the halls, you heard two servants talking and couldn't help but to listen to their conversation. "Have you seen the countess's new boyfriend?" "I did actually, didn't know she would settle for so little" "I know, right? Count Lucio was way hotter" "Certainly".

👑 That broke you. You already had some issues about self-acceptance and feeling relevant close to Nadia, but knowing other people also thought you weren't suitable enough, crushed you even more.

👑 You ran back to your room and took your clothes off, sinking in the bathtub right after. You felt the tears coming and soon, dark and judging thoughts came to you.

👑 Nadia arrived a few minutes later expecting to see your bubbly self as usual, but got shocked by seeing you sobbing in the bathtub. She immediately rushed to you and asked you what happened. After telling her, rage took over her face and she assured you that those two servants would be fired right away.

👑 She joined you in the bath and pulled you to her chest. "Darling, do not pay attention to those fools. I only hear good things from the other servants about you. How polite, caring and what a good and lovely person you are. And I agree with them. My position as Countess does not make more of a person that anyone. You are amazing and I love you dearly"

Julian

♟ Julian decided to take you to Mazelinka's place to have dinner. You, Julian and Portia were knocking at her door as soon as the sun feel on the horizon.

♟ You had a nice dinner, laughed, danced, talked, sang and everything was fine until you felt like a spectator before the whole scene. You saw their happiness and joy and started to feel like you would never be able to truly have all that.

♟ You excused yourself quickly, and proceeded to rush out of the house, leaving everyone very confused. You never did that before and at first they didn't know how to react, that's until Portia smacked Julian's head and told him to hurry after you, which he did almost instantly.

♟ He found you in a alley siting on a fetal position, crying your eyes out, and that hurt him deep. He kneeled to your level and pulled you to his chest, wrapping his very long arms around your torso. He didn't exactly know what to say except for "Just let it all out, sweetheart"

♟ After some minutes, he asked you what was wrong and you told him about your insecurities. You were surprised when he let out a small chuckle "You have no idea how much I love you, do you? I would never leave you for any other man. You're the one that I want to spend the rest of my days with. You're the most perfect creature I've ever met and I regret many things on my life, many horrible decisions, really, but being with you...was the best choice anyone could ever make. And I'm glad you choose me too".

♟You went back to the house and both women hugged you tightly. Mazelinka told you to sit your butt down while she made you some special soup. Portia also decided to help and brought you a warm blanket. You couldn't help but to feel accepted by your new family.

Muriel

🌿 Muriel was out in the woods to collect some wood for the winter. He left you with Inanna saying that you couldn't protect yourself, so you needed the wolf's help. You agreed and Inanna stayed behind to make you some make you company and keep you safe.

🌿 You then proceeded to look around at the hut. There were new things there. More blankets, more food, more pillows, more clothes, more carved animals Muriel made just for you and the place was way more organized.

🌿 You stared to tear up at the sight of all that. He spent so much time and effort in you. Always trying to please you in all ways. You felt tears running down your cheeks and Inanna came close to you, licking your face. You started crying even more, not knowing why she liked you so much. You hugged her and cried as she buried her head on your shoulder.

🌿 Muriel entered and, looking at the scenario, dropped all the wood. His eyes were wide at the sight of you crying and at first he though you were hurt. He rushed to you and Inanna gave you both some space. After analyzing your whole body and not finding any injuries he got confused. "Honey...what's wrong?"

🌿 You fully opened your heart to him and told him everything. How you thought he spent to much time looking after you, doing things to you, getting you supplies, and you know how he liked being alone, which made things worse to you, because you felt like a burden to him.

🌿 He looked dead serious into your eyes, blushing a little "I...like you here. And I don't mind doing things for you. It's like having a prince at my hut. You bring happiness to the woods. Inanna likes you. And I like you too. I...I love you" he took a flower crown out of his cloak "and you deserve nice things".

Portia

🐈 She had many plans for both of you today. You were going flower picking, you would have a picnic, swim at the lake and watch the fireflies. After all, she would be released of her duties earlier today. A little "prize" Nadia gave Portia once in a month for her hard work. She would only have to help with breakfast and lunch and then she was free to go.

🐈 You, on the other hand, stayed in your cabin and decided to take a look around. Accidentally, you found her plans for the day. She planned so many things, all for you to spend more time together. All of your bad thoughts came in mind and you started to feel the tears come.

🐈 They usually said that you weren't good enough for her. While she worked at the palace you simply helped with small tasks in the shop. You felt completely useless and disposable. She didn't need you. At all.

🐈 When she came back, she was surprised to see the house so quiet, since you usually greeted her with a big smile and a warm hug. She though you were playing with her and tiptoed around the house to find you, until there was only one place left to look. The bedroom.

🐈 She opened the door on a fast movement and screamed to scare you, which actually happened. But seeing you face filled with tears, she instantly felt guilted and rushed to your side, rubbing your head and pulling you to a hug. She asked you why were you were sad and you explained it all to her.

🐈 She grabbed your face with her chubby hands "Look here, young man, I'm with you for a reason! Your stunning looks are just a bonus. I love for your heart. And you're definitely not useless. How cool is it that I have a magician boyfriend? That's totally something to brag about".

Lucio

🐐 Lucio was throwing one of his big parties again. He choose your outfit, just like everything else you were wearing. He sprayed you with compliments as you were both standing in front of the mirror.

🐐 You went down to the ballroom, his arm around your waist, and people began whispering. Some of them looked happy for you, other feared for you and a few of them looked extremely jealous. Still, you felt uncomfortable and unconfident with the whole situation.

🐐 The party went by and you chatted with some friends you made within the palace. Most of them were servants, but that didn't matter to you. They were nice people and you really liked them. You were talking to one of the bakers when his glance went form your face to something happening behind you.

🐐 You turned around to see a very embarrassing scene for you. Another man, throwing himself on Lucio's lap, his hand rubbing his chest. You excused yourself from the conversation and rushed to the master bedroom. You threw your coat on the floor and went to the veranda to get some fresh air, involuntary tears running down your face.

🐐 Quick and heavy footsteps were heard from the hallway and Lucio bursted into the room, looking for you. Once he found you on the veranda and saw your crying face, he pulled you close by your waist. You couldn't help but burst out all the things that were bothering you on him. Your fears, insecurities, everything.

🐐 "I've never met that man in my life, but I know he's not even worthy of being close to you. You are better than any of those fools. Not because your a Count, but because of your heart. You learned to love and accept me after everything I did and because of that, you would certainly win the prize of "purest soul". You're amazing. Always remember that. Or I'll have to remind you myself".

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drewinator23 · 4 years

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FE3H MBTI [Dimitri — ISFJ]

lol so. it looks like a lot of people are subscribing to the idea that dimitri is an ENFJ, in contrast to edelgard, who is supposedly an ENTJ. i believe that misses the point of these characters — and their dynamic — almost entirely, especially in dimitri’s case. while i will say i think edelgard is an INTJ, at least that isn’t too far off from ENTJ. the cognitive difference between ISFJ and ENFJ though...oh boy, where do i start.

the whole dimitri/edelgard conflict isn’t so much a clash between Fe and Te as it is a clash between Si and Ni — with dimitri, of course, representing the former. Fe vs Te does come into play a little (ISFJ’s auxiliary Fe vs INTJ’s auxiliary Te), but i honestly think the main focus of their clash is the past vs future dynamic typical of Si/Ni conflict.

ISFP seems to be a popular choice for dimitri too, but tbh i think a lot of people are mistaking his Si for Fi. i just want to say, right now, that this man...does not have Fi. lol. not in his main functions anyway (yes i will be getting into shadow functions, and cognitive loops, and all that good stuff, so if that’s not your cup of tea then here’s your warning!) ...but yeah let’s get into it.

Dominant Si

“I must never forget that day. I must never allow their deaths to be forgotten.”

dimitri has a very strong connection to the past. and this doesn’t just apply to his past, but to the concept of the past in general. in stark contrast to edelgard, dimitri vehemently believes in “preserving what deserves to be preserved,” which is an important factor in why his methods are far less radical than hers. he believes it’s possible to improve the system currently in place without tearing it from the ground up the way edelgard does. he places a lot more focus on honoring the fallen, on reminiscing about days gone by, and on respecting tradition in general. and this isn’t to say he’s a dense fuck. dimitri is very much capable of criticizing tradition where it’s due, and we see him do this on multiple occasions. it’s just that he has a lot more appreciation for the positive aspects of tradition/“the past” which edelgard seems to ignore completely. where edelgard wishes her “worthless dreams of the past” would go away, dimitri legit admits to relying on his headaches/nightmares of the past as reminders because he is genuinely afraid to forget the faces of those he “let die,” along with those he killed. he believes forgetting their faces would be an insult to their memory. he talks about his history with edelgard far more than she talks about her history with him. he becomes furious when edelgard’s forces attack the holy tomb and “desecrate the dead.” i think you guys get where i’m going with this. while it’s true that a substantial amount of dimitri’s connection to the past is unhealthy, that’s largely due to the trauma he suffers, along with the cognitive imbalance stemming from his Si-Ti loop. obsessing over the past the way dimitri does is far more indicative of an unhealthy Si user than it is of shadow Si, which is more likely to just abandon the past altogether...or uh, “trample the past underfoot” (looking at you, hegemon edelgard).

“I owe you, just as I owe the spirits of those I let die.”

second point — duty. (i’m guessing this is the point a lot of people confuse for Fi. dimtiri’s pretty preachy, yeah, but not all talk about justice is inherently rooted in Fi. more on that later though.) this guy literally constructs his entire life around the idea of fulfilling his duty, be it his duty to his father, his duty to dedue’s people, his duty to his kingdom, etc. he constantly talks about his need to fulfill these duties, and pretty much all the effort he puts into anything is driven by this. even his earlier, more light-hearted supports tend to carry a running theme of him making promises (which he takes almost comedically seriously), encouraging his classmates to be responsible, creating debts to be repaid, and so on. the only reason he even goes to the academy in the first place is, by his own admission, to fulfill what he perceives as his duty as the Sole Survivor of the Tragedy of Duscur™. obsessive revenge is a fucked up conception of duty, sure, but it transforms into something healthier by the end of the story while remaining very distinctly Si. his duty to ghosts becomes his duty to the living — to the people in his kingdom who need him now. essentially, he develops a more constructive attitude toward duty that helps both him and the people he constantly feels he “owes.” my boi snaps out of his Si-Ti loop and becomes a bro again once dat aux Fe and inf Ne come back to balance shit out, y’know what i’m saying? anyway speaking of aux Fe,

Auxiliary Fe

“This victory is the result of everyone’s hard work. Thank you, my friends.”

academy phase dimitri (and i guess uh...post-post-timeskip dimitri) is just about the nicest guy ever. he can be stiff and awkward to the point of being comically serious at times, sure (thanks dominant Si), but he’s generally very polite and agreeable. he’s conscious of the atmosphere in his conversations and always makes an effort to keep things comfortable for everyone involved. tbh he could make do with less of the whole constantly-falling-over-himself-apologizing thing, and it would be kinda cool if “sorry” didn’t make up over 90% of his dialogue, but i digress. regret is dimitri’s middle name so it kinda makes sense for it to permeate even his most mundane interactions. ANYWAY my point is — dimitri’s always trying to make sure everyone gets along and he generally prioritizes harmony over being fully honest about his own feelings, which strikes me as a lot more Fe than Fi. a simple but hopefully effective example of this is his support with flayn where he eats her awful fucking food and tells her it’s delicious even though he can’t taste it. he later admits to her that he was only saying what he thought she’d want to hear, which is like...peak Fe my dudes. a good chunk of his support and even main story dialogue involves him trying to smooth things over, prevent conflict, let people know they did a good job, and so on. and this isn’t just with respect to the other blue lions, but to the other house leaders as well. a lot of the praise he dishes out commends hard work and effort (thanks dominant Si), but his focus is also largely on teamwork and cooperation.

“I saved someone—saved you. That and that alone has always been my crutch.”

now on to the darker side of...not-so-healthy Fe users. dimitri openly admits to dedue that saving him gave him a reason to live, that it makes him think it was worthwhile that someone “like [him]” survived. and this savior complex doesn’t just apply to his relationship with dedue, but to his behavior and decisions in general. it’s exacerbated by the sense of genuine responsibility and duty he attaches to everything (thanks dominant Si), and it sparks up in many different ways. he admits that he feels like it’s his responsibility to help the orphans at the monastery, since he lost his family like they did. he tells byleth he wants to become like rodrigue, whom he describes as “someone who can reach out and save a lost soul.” he apologizes to byleth for not being able to save jeralt (?? BRUH.) he begs byleth to tell him how he can “save” the ghosts of his loved ones, even though they’re...you know. dead. i think this prob comes from his endless regret that he couldn’t actually stop anyone from dying in the tragedy, so he’s just obsessed with saving everyone he can now. in any case, dimitri feels the pain of loss in war very, very acutely, which is why he freaks the fuck out in remire. he later admits the flames in remire reminded him of the flames in duscur, which flung him into the same rage he associates with what happened in duscur, even though he had no particular connection to the villagers in remire. he absorbs the suffering of people around him like a sponge and surprise surprise it breaks his mind. eventually his Fe gets overloaded af and shuts down (hello Si-Ti loop), but even unhinged dimitri shows an occasional connection to others’ feelings — endearingly so when he pats a random orphan’s head, and eerily so when he sympathizes with fleche’s bloodlust and allows her to join the party because of it.

Tertiary Ti

“He’s dead. There goes our chance to gain more information.”

dimitri’s introverted realm is one of Si and Ti. he wants to reconcile his understanding of what happened in the past with a logical, substantial explanation, and he works tirelessly to find this explanation. this becomes increasingly apparent when he actually spends time alone — when he isn’t in the company of others, dimitri is far more research-oriented than he is overtly sentimental. he is interested in learning the facts of his circumstances, and he spends hours in the library looking for answers, trying to find out for himself what really happened. he is skeptical of the generally accepted “truth” that duscur itself is to blame, and instead believes that the blame foisted on it is meant to cover up something far more underhanded. of course, he is right about this, and he conducts as much research as he can to get to the bottom of the event. he spends hours in the library, late into the night. he reads about his uncle, lord arundel, and immediately suspects his involvement because the church’s records of his donations abruptly stop right before the tragedy. dimitri questions the man himself about this during their brief encounter pre-timeskip, though it (predictably) doesn’t really lead anywhere. he tries this again post-timeskip, but arundel dies before dimitri can pry too much out of him, which the latter bitterly laments.

“That is merely the logic of the living. It’s meaningless.”

much like dimitri’s Si, his Ti becomes warped once he enters his Si-Ti loop — feeding into a harsh, twisted, self-deprecating sort of logic that only reinforces itself and ignores other viewpoints (thanks to Fe and Ne shutting down). he becomes uncharacteristically blunt and critical, and the colder, more cynical view of the world we see glimpses of pre-timeskip becomes far more pronounced. in his mind, it doesn’t make sense for the living to move on in hopes of appeasing the dead. turning a blind eye to the dead is blasphemous, and anyone who believes that the dead would want the living to do so is merely adopting “the logic of the living” — a delusion to make themselves feel better. this belief likely helps him rationalize his own desire for revenge, and inability to let go of his past, and so the Si-Ti loop reinforces itself. to reiterate though, dimitri’s Ti is incredibly helpful and constructive when he isn’t loopy (ahahah. get it.) but anyway yeah, in short, his analytical process is typically far more introverted than the sensitive, emotion-focused approach he maintains externally. also, his attention to detail and refusal to accept things at face value are more subtle, covert elements of his personality, but they are definitely there. it’s not as pronounced as claude’s auxiliary Ti, sure, but tertiary Ti ain’t a force to be reckoned with either.

Inferior Ne

“Lineage, race, faith, ideologies... If we could just accept each other and make mutual concessions, one step at a time... Perhaps... Who knows if that’s even possible.”

again, this is one of claude’s functions but more baby. take upside down man’s dominant Ne and make it a bit smoller, more scared, and quicker to shut down. inferior Ne is brilliant, but unfortunately the fourth function tends to be one of insecurity. dimitri aspires to be open-minded and accepting (there’s a reason the inferior function is sometimes called the aspirational function), but it’s something he admittedly struggles with at times. he believes in compromise and understanding, and not just in an Fe way — dimitri advocates for reaching out to other perspectives in war, in politics, and in various other contexts throughout the story. it isn’t the first thing on his mind, but it’s an ideal he genuinely admires. and later in the game, once he snaps out of his loop (which is inherently tunnel-visioned due to its introverted nature), he opens up to the idea again and seeks to understand edelgard’s point of view. he asks to speak with her, to get a better idea of where she’s coming from, to negotiate and hopefully reach a mutual understanding. this echoes his dialogue in chapter 3, where he laments the incident with lord lonato and expresses his belief that they shouldn’t have cut him down, but talked to him instead. dimitri’s Si-Ti loop effectively shuts this desire down, for a very long time, but it finally wakes up again once byleth reminds him “there must be another way.”

“I wonder which is best, Professor... To cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway.”

again, as long as byleth is there to steer him back on track, we all know the answer dimitri gets to this in the end. there is always an air of uncertainty about it all — and he definitely needs someone to help kick that inferior into “aspirational mode” — but he is ultimately capable of it. it begins as more of a question than anything, but with guidance it becomes an ideal he can properly believe in and seek for himself. it’s what allows him to finally reach for edelgard’s hand in the end. once he accepts the parts of himself he previously couldn’t, he finds himself able to accept edelgard as well — to extend that same mercy to her. once he’s out of his loop, he doesn’t just regain awareness of his loved ones’ needs with Fe, but becomes invested in understanding their perspectives and motivations again with Ne. he listens to people again, lets them help him, asks them questions, and shows genuine curiosity in their answers. claude would be proud eh?

Shadow Functions

okay here we go. i’m going to make this part shorter since it’s the main functions that matter most, and i know not everyone subscribes to the idea of shadow functions. but anyway here’s the dirt.

Opposing Se

“It’s not that I have grown weary...more that I find it difficult to be around everyone at the moment.”

this man literally cannot taste food. do i even need to elaborate? okay for real though, dimitri often finds it hard to remain present. he’s often caught up in his duties with Si, or worrying about the atmosphere with Fe, or stuck in his research with Ti, and so on. he is very much capable of making pleasant conversation, but actually feeling present is very difficult for him, and he even goes so far as to describe joy as “fleeting.” he struggles to enjoy festivities, claiming they “don’t suit [him],” and prefers instead to chat with byleth about his childhood. he can’t truly enjoy the meals he eats with others, but he remarks about the dishes he “used to love as a child.” trauma aside, dimitri finds genuine comfort in reminiscing about the past, and he often brings it up in his conversations with others. this is a classic dynamic between dominant Si and the opposing Se that comes along with it.

Critic Fi

“Whatever my feelings, it is all the act of a monster.”

dimitri’s personal feelings are...very, very low on his priority list. and despite all his preaching, he ultimately believes that whatever his personal moral compass may be, it doesn’t justify his actions. and he extends this belief to everyone else as well. simply put, dimitri doesn’t think any set of ideals or morals can justify the actions committed in war. as Aleczandxr words it, “the only reality of war is tragedy for him. there is no such thing as a ‘glorious’ or ‘romantic’ death, and sacrifice is blasphemy.” this is evident in his disgust at people trying to glorify glenn’s death (which dimitri ironically shares with felix — who of course has demon Fi — but that’s a topic for another time.) no subjective concept of morality could possibly justify murder, in any context, and this belief is a burden dimitri admits he believes he will carry forever. dimitri’s introverted realm is a reconciliation between Si and Ti, not Si and Fi. although he believes this should apply to everyone in theory, he often struggles to voice it outright, leading to the hypocritical dynamic that often comes with auxiliary Fe and critic Fi. an example of this is when he tells ashe not to beat himself up for what happened with lord lonato, in an attempt to comfort him, but then proceeds to beat himself up for the exact same thing as soon as ashe leaves. furthermore, the advice he gives marianne in his support with her is to understand that she doesn’t have to “force [her]self to smile as [her] soul bleeds,” though that is exactly what he does for the majority of the academy phase. in any case, the fact that he chooses to give her this specific advice, of all things, is telling.

Trickster Te

“I do not want you to die a death like that. Not even for the sake of loyalty or duty.”

dimitri struggles with efficiency. his intense loathing of sacrifice, regardless of context, makes it very difficult for him to strategize as a commander the way that edelgard does. his rational side is, for the most part, internal; he uses it for his research, his theorizing, his personal endeavors to obtain more information and better understand his circumstances. but he struggles to apply that same level of cold, hard logic while commanding his troops, especially in battle. this comes up in his support with ingrid, who remarks that any good king innately understands some of his soldiers’ lives must be sacrificed for the greater good. she then proceeds to call dimitri’s ideals soft-hearted, which is as good an encapsulation as any of how his Te compares to edelgard’s. war and battlefields aside, dimitri struggles with being harsh in general, preferring to speak to others in softer, more personal terms rather than being blunt. he translates his Ti findings into “acceptable” Fe terms, except for when he enters a loop and said Fe shuts down. during these phases, dimitri is harsh in a manner far more characteristic of “unfiltered” Ti than it is of unrestrained Te, as he snaps at others to leave him alone more than he is inclined to order them around.

Demon Ni

“Do I have the right to live for myself?”

as soon as dimitri snaps out of his Si-Ti revenge craze, his first instinct is to ask who or what he should live for now. and even after byleth tells him to live for what he believes in, it’s very clear in dimitri’s subsequent supports that “what he believes in” is still fulfilling his duty to his kingdom. the difference is that he now has a healthier conception of said duty, and is finally open to accepting his loved ones’ support. that said, he has never been naturally inclined to follow his more personal desires, plainly admitting that he has rarely — if ever — given his own dreams any thought. furthermore, he struggles considerably with looking toward the future, and is unable to do so without byleth, who needs to physically stop him from looking back and guide him onward in the final cutscene. even at his healthiest, dimitri is a defender of the past. he criticizes edelgard by asking her if she would really force people to “throw their lives away for the future,” and warns her that regardless of how strongly she believes in her vision, the future she creates will be “built on a foundation of tears.” this is because he understands, better than most, just how critical the past can be in any individual’s life.

Conclusion

the internet needs to stop hating Si and just let characters be well-written “and Si” at the same time lol. especially in such obvious, practically textbook cases of high Si. one of the most common arguments against Si dimitri is that his devotion to the past is only caused by his trauma, and “isn’t the real him.” the fact of the matter is, dimitri’s Si manifests in so much more than just his duty to avenge the fallen. it plays a huge role in so many other elements of his personality, as do the other functions that come with being an ISFJ. i’m tired of these implications that Ni is some inherently higher, “healthier” form of being lying under literally any indication of Si, which automatically gets discarded as trauma or something lmao. c’mon guys ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#fe3h #dimitri #mbti #isfj

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artisticvicu · 5 years

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Five Words, One Story | Unnecessary Interlude

[first]

[prev]

He woke slowly. Thoughts muddled together incoherently leaving him to wallow in the ache of his body. Honestly, he wished he had stayed unconscious. Everything hurt - some parts more than others - and even the thought that pulled itself from the rest of possibly feeling more pain due to waking fully was not welcomed.

But no matter how he tried to bury himself back under the dark recesses of blissful unconsciousness, it slipped farther and farther from reach till he was opening his eyes and greeting the world that awaited him.

The view wasn't quite what he had expected.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting as he took in the unfamiliar roof overhead. Maybe a night sky or something equally wild but it was the reason behind those expectations that eluded him. Everything was still rather muddled in his head leaving memories to be swallowed up by dreams and fantasies with no differentiating between them and reality. But at least his current reality was dry and warm.

And soft, he realized. Whatever he was lying on and covered by were equal parts soft. It felt almost wrong even as it soothed some of the ache in his body.

A hand came into view and with it the birthmark on the wrist.

He hissed, memories suddenly tearing themselves from the muddled mess in his mind and he made to move away, to put distance between him and the person he wanted nothing to do with for the rest of the cycle.

His efforts bore him nothing more than searing pain.

"Easy," an all too familiar voice urged, careful hands pinning him down. "Easy."

"What do you want," he spat, glaring up at a sea of gold that's only flaws were two islands the same color as water. He blinked and the other's features separated out, though those blue eyes still bore into him despite his cleared sight.

They frowned at him. Was that a pang of guilt or pity in their expression? "For you to rest," they chided as if his comment warranted such a respond. And maybe it did - maybe he was relying on ingrained habits too hard in this situation and finding anything and everything to fight the hero with, but he was too damn tired and in too much pain to care. Despite the hero being, well, a hero, he didn't trust them to not have ulterior motives with helping him. He wondered if they knew that somehow as they sighed, shaking their head. "Just...rest, ok? You suffered some serious injuries when you hit the water at both ends and it'll take time for the healer to arrive so it would probably be best if you didn't agitate any of it by moving."

He gave them a flat look even with them not looking at him. "And how, exactly, do you expect me to go however long it'll be before the healer arrives without moving? I'll still have to eat, drink, and use the restroom." His eyes narrowed, a suspicion rolling through him. "How long will it take for the healer to arrive? Hours?"

The hero closed their eyes and he felt his stomach drop out as they opened their mouth.

"Days."

His mouth went dry.

"Possibly a week." The hero let out a sharp breath and he was surprised when frustration and remorse twisted the hero's expression. The strangest part was that neither were directed at him. "I hate the limits of this cycle. A quick phone call and you'd already be at some major hospital getting proper aid for your injuries."

"And exactly how bad are they?"

The hero flinched. He could almost feel their breath escaping them as if he had slammed his fist into their gut. It took a moment for them to gain that breath back. The longer it took, the more numb he became to his own emotions.

"If we don't get you help soon, fatal," the hero finally confessed. "And not the fast kind of fatal, either."

The bitter chuckle was breathy but it still sent waves of pain through his body. Their hands on him didn't help but he didn't care to use the energy to fight them off. He was too busy shoving down the anger at having been saved and the fear of what kind of death he was subjected to this time. "And you're caring now because why?"

The hero shook their head causing their golden hair to halo around their head. "This is different. You weren't supposed to fall."

"Oh? Says who?"

"Says me."

It would seem he was in for numerous surprises that particular day as he rolled his eyes. "Oh please. The number of times you've met an untimely end, you haven't seen me wasting my time trying to save you."

"Neryk," they tried to plead but he was already cutting them off.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that, Kyren," he spat. He paid for it with a spasm of pain but it was worth it, even if all it did was make them chuckle. Not his intent but he much preferred it to the self deprecating tendencies that were starting to show. "Now get me up and out of this bed. I don't want to be trapped here if I can help it."

"Please, Ne-"

"Don't," he spat, moving to stop them out of instinct than thought through action and he paid for it. By the time the pain had diminished enough for him to think, he was far too exhausted to even breathe. Unfortunately for him, his brain wasn't about to let him suffocate and he doubted the hero would as well.

"Where did you want to go?" they asked softly, their voice curling around him carefully, gently.

He took in a deeper breath in hopes it would push back the exhaustion; it didn't and despite his desire for blissful unconsciousness earlier, he wanted to stay awake. "Just outside. If this is the last night I'm able to even sit up straight without keeling over dead in this cycle, I want to at least see the stars clearly one last time."

"Do you want to sit in a chair or be laid out?"

He went to shrug and regretted it. "Whichever is easiest that won't cause me tremendous pain."

The hero got to their feet, pointing out, "The trip there will be horrendously painful."

He gave a sharp, humorless grin in turn. "I'm counting on it."

It was probably not the wisest thing to say and it wasn't like he cared. He knew it was going to be excruciating and having them point this out was helping no one.

He groggily realized that he had been moved but he didn't remember the trip, nor the hero picking him up. It was probably for the best as the sea of gold and its two blue islands filled his view again till his sight cleared enough to discern the hero's features; it was hard to miss the streaks of blood on the hero's chest. "Seems I bled on you."

Was he seeing things or was that really relief in the hero's expression. "You've been doing that quite a bit. I'll have to make sure to bill you for the dry cleaning in a few cycles."

He gave them a flat look. Or at least attempted to. It felt strange on his face. "It's not going to be there in a few cycles, you nitwit."

The hero laughed, settling more next to him.

It was then that he became aware he was lying on his back underneath a never ending sky.

The brightest star he saw wasn't a star at all, but Mars reflecting the sun from its position in the solar system. He wondered if it would be just as easy to find in the next cycle.

"You let me know when you want to go back in," the hero informed him, settling back on their hands to watch the sky.

"Ok," he replied as his eyes roamed the rest of the sky he could see.

Slowly it all started to fade and as much as he wanted to fight the impending sleep, he went without a fight.

When he woke next, it was to the sight of some unfamiliar room and the slow reintegration into a new cycle.

His memories started sorting themselves out. It took some time so he remained on his chest in the strange yet familiar bed staring at the black and white image of a cowboy hat sitting on a table, the background blurred enough that the people in it were nothing more than rough shapes - the pair dancing alone in the negative space to the upper left of the hat almost becoming a single odd shape because of it. A satin cushion a third of the size of the hat sat on the table under the blurry dancing pair, two wedding bands on display against the small cushion's fabric.

[next]

#All the Creation #Creative and Prompt Writing #five words prompt #Mars #gold #fear #cowboy hat #blood #RPApril Extravaganza 2019 #Five Words One Story #1 of 4 #Part 3 of 6 #500 to 1500 words limit

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worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

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Fic: The Darkness Within (3/?)

Summary: When washed-up paranormal investigator Rum Gold meets Belle French, he does not quite know what to make of her claim of a supernatural presence in her life, but sensing her genuine fear, he begins to investigate. What he uncovers shakes the cynicism he has so long held to its very core, and he calls in the help of disgraced ex-priest Father Macavoy to help him lay some demons to rest…

A slow burn, eventual rumbellavoy. The rating may increase in later chapters.

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [AO3]

=====

Previously...

“Bad night?” Gold asked. She nodded. “Maybe you’d like to tell me about it?”

She shook her head. “No. I know your reputation. You wouldn’t believe me. Besides, I can’t remember. I can never remember. That’s the whole problem.”

Gold had no idea what he was letting himself in for, but he took the plunge nonetheless.

“Try me.”

=====

Three

Belle shook her head.

"You'll think I'm crazy, just like everyone else."

Gold shook his head.

"No. I might not believe in whatever it is that you're going to tell me, but I believe that you believe, and that's half the battle. I can see that whatever it is that's troubling you is having an adverse impact on your life." Gold paused, trailing one fingertip around the rim of his tumbler. "You have a genuine fear that you're trying to find a real world explanation for, and I'm offering to provide that real world explanation. That was the entire reason you took an interest in my book, wasn't it? And you found it unhelpful."

Belle nodded. "Yes, you're right." She gave a long sigh, taking a sip of her drink and staring into the depths of the glass, not meeting his eyes. "To be honest, I don't really know exactly what the matter is. I just know that there's something. And whatever it is, I'm afraid of it. And I don't want to be afraid anymore."

A soft snort of self-deprecating laughter escaped her lips. "Truth be told, this has been going on so long that I don't even know where to start, or what to say. A medical professional would look at me and immediately say that I had some kind of sleep disorder and some kind of memory disorder, but it's not as simple as that."

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Gold suggested. Since she had already put the idea of a medical explanation for her problems forward, it was the one that he was inclined to take. The body and mind were both mysterious things that no-one could fully hope to understand. There were so many illnesses that scientists could not fathom either a cause or cure for, but there were usually steps that could be taken to mitigate their effects. Perhaps Belle had already tried these and they had failed. Perhaps she felt that her problem was not medical and that such intervention would not help her.

"I know what you're thinking," Belle said dryly. "And believe me, I've seen enough doctors in my time to know that whatever this is, it can't be treated by a handful of pills or some kind of surgery. If it could I'd be booking myself into that hospital tomorrow. As it is, I'm here." She looked around the bar. "I don't even really know where here is."

"Storybrooke, Maine," Gold pointed out, and Belle gave him a withering look.

"I know that much. I suppose I don't really know why I'm here. I guess I was just drawn here. Oh, it's more complicated than that. This thing, this... presence. It's taking over my life."

They fell into silence; Belle drained her glass and ordered another, as if the liquor fortified her and gave her the strength she needed to continue with her tale.

"Why don't you begin at the beginning?" Gold prompted.

Belle laughed, shaking her head softly. "If we really want to go right back to the beginning then we'll be delving into your most hated territory, Mr Gold." There was a slight smile on her face as she continued in spite of her melancholy, and it was good to see. For a brief moment, something in her face lightened and it brightened the room. "Psychics."

Gold suppressed a groan. Of all the things that he had investigated over his careers, the number of phoney psychics he had encountered and put out of business was a sore point. At one stage, it felt like all he was doing was smacking his head against a brick wall, investigating claims of miracles and seances that turned out to be a load of crap.

"It's all right," Belle said. "I've never been to one myself, and I've always taken all the reports of these people with a pinch of salt, but you wanted to start at the beginning and that's where I'm starting. It was my mother." She sighed. "Back home in Australia, my mother went to see a psychic whilst she was pregnant with me. It was only meant to be a bit of fun, nothing serious, and she didn't believe any of what he told her. She couldn't remember most of it. Probably about meeting some tall, dark stranger, you know the usual spiel. There was just one thing that unnerved her at the time, and that she didn't really think much about. He said that there was a dark cloud surrounding her child, something that he couldn't see clearly through. I mean, if you're a pregnant lady then you're going to be slightly wary of anything that could harm your baby and although a dark cloud is pretty vague, it still sounds kind of ominous. Still, she thought that perhaps he was just trying to get more money out of her. He was scaremongering to get another reading out of her, where he would say that everything was going to be all right and she didn't need to worry. But the psychic said that he wouldn't read her again. He practically shooed her out of the house, as if he was scared of this strange black cloud."

"But your mother didn't believe what he said?"

"Like I said, she was unnerved by it a little, but in reality, what's a dark cloud? It could be anything. It became a family joke then, every time something out of the ordinary happened, we blamed it on my dark cloud. Now though..."

"You think that there might have been something in the psychic's words and that there is some kind of a dark cloud?"

Belle nodded.

"Depression and other mental illnesses are sometimes described as being like a dark cloud," Gold said.

"I know, and I'd love for the explanation to be that simple. I don't really have any other symptoms, and none of the treatments I've tried have really worked."

Gold took a sip of his whiskey, considering her story carefully. She hadn't told him all that much, and nothing that could be explained away. Nothing that really warranted an explanation. Her mother had visited a psychic, which seemed to have no bearing whatsoever on her current position.

"Where's your mother now?" he asked.

"She died when I was seven," Belle said. "Car accident. She'd been to visit her family in a different town so at least I know that wasn't anything to do with me."

The words made Gold start. "You think you might have had something to do with deaths?"

Belle looked at him sagely, her eyes older than her years. "I've already told you that I have a lot of trouble with my memory," she said. "Who knows what I might have done in the bits I can't remember? My father died three months ago, but I wasn't there when it happened. I was in the house, I was in the next room, but I wasn't... present, if you get my meaning. I woke up and he was dead and I had no memory of anything that had happened. The coroner said it was a heart attack, natural causes, I'd been asleep at the time and didn't realise anything was amiss. No foul play suspected at all, no suspicion against me."

"But you suspect yourself."

Belle nodded. "I don't trust myself. My father might have died from a heart attack, but what if it was something I did that caused it?" She sighed, and they fell into silence again for a long time. "I guess that's why I moved. Up until then I had just about been able to live with it. It was getting worse, the whatever it is, but I could just about manage with Dad's help. Then suddenly I didn't have Dad and I had the terrible fear that it might have been my fault, and I can't live with it any more. I need answers, an explanation, a cure, anything. I just want it all to stop."

Gold took a moment to consider the facts of the case she had presented to him. He was missing one very crucial piece of information.

"What is it that you're trying to live with?" he asked. "This 'whatever it is' as you call it. The dark cloud."

Belle sighed. "I don't know what it is, but I think there's something sharing my brain."

Gold quirked an eyebrow; Belle noticed the motion and gave a little huff. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"I'm still listening."

"I call it the Dark One," Belle said, but she was looking at him warily and Gold could see her barriers going up again. "I don't know what it is. I can just feel it in there, sometimes. A little part of my mind that's closed off and doesn't belong to me. And then I have these blackouts, and I can't remember anything that happens during them, and I know that's when it comes out."

A thousand perfectly logical medical explanations flew through Gold's head. Hundreds of historical cases of fits and seizures and blackouts and epilepsy being attributed to possession and witchcraft.

But Belle had already said that there was no medical explanation; that she had already tried to get one.

"And I have proof, sort of," Belle said. "Well, nothing that you would call tangible proof. But my dad saw it. He saw me during my blackouts and he said he'd never seen anything like it."

"Did he give any more details?"

Belle shook her head. "No, I could never get it out of him. He was always really rattled though, I can tell you that much. Whatever it was, he never got used to it.”

Her movement was sudden then, she drained the remainder of her whiskey and slipped off the barstool. "This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have said anything. It's stupid. Just forget it. It's nothing. I have blackouts, a lot of people do."

"Wait, Belle!"

But she was already going, hurrying out of the bar, not looking back. Gold wondered what could have spooked her. Maybe she had felt an episode coming on and wanted to get somewhere safe before she succumbed to it.

Maybe, the less practically-minded and more psychically inclined part of him said, the Dark One was rearing its head and protesting at Belle sharing its secret. Gold rolled his eyes. Belle was not possessed. Possession was impossible. Malevolent evil spirits did not exist.

Since his entire object in coming to the bar had been to talk to Belle, there wasn't really a lot of point in him remaining. All the same, there was something that he could do, just to satisfy his own curiosity. Whilst the barkeep's back was turned, Gold carefully picked up the glass that Belle had been using with his handkerchief, tucking it into his jacket pocket and placing some bills down on the counter to cover his drink. The walk back to his house felt different tonight. There was something in the atmosphere that was fraught, charged with a particular kind of tension and excitement that Gold had not felt in a very long time. This was the thrill of the chase, the idea that he might find something inexplicable and prove the existence of the paranormal. Of course, in the past, that feeling had so often been followed by disappointment, but in this case, Gold would not mind the disappointment because it would still be a victory for his own common sense and peace of mind.

Even as he sat down behind his desk and took out the sheet that he had transferred the handprint from the window onto, he was telling himself that he was being utterly ridiculous and since he was at the stage of stealing whiskey tumblers from bars in order to try and prove or disprove a theory, then taking a step back from the city and coming to Storybrooke evidently had not been enough for his nerves. He was going to have to get a lot further away from it all below it took over his life completely.

He still couldn't bring himself to stop doing what he was doing, though, and he carefully lifted Belle's fingerprints from the whiskey glass, setting to work with his magnifiers. Gold had never had access to any of the high-tech machinery that could match fingerprints to databases within seconds, but he didn't need them. He just needed to compare the two.

He spent three hours poring over the prints, checking every single detail, every single comparison marker, and then he checked them all again. There was no getting around it, and suddenly his conversation with Belle at the bar took on a far more chilling turn. There was no doubt about it. It was Belle's handprint that had been on his window that morning. Belle had been in his garden, pressing her hand up against the glass.

Why?

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Fic: The Darkness Within

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