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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he��s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

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cadykeus-clay · 4 years ago

Note

Would you mind sharing your thoughts about vex and Beau being cross campaign foils?

so!!!! first things first: apologies for taking weeks to answer this, finals + having adhd sometimes makes my brain turn to mush and forget every ask ive ever recieved. second of all, i’m assuming you sent me this bc of what i said in my vm vs. m9 how they view the world meta. and i’ll be real with you. i have exactly 0 memory of what was going through my head when i wrote that line, so i am simply going to type out a bunch of thoughts that i have on the similarities and differences between beau and vex and i hope that lives up to what you were expecting jsdflksjdksld

I'll detail some specifics in a moment, but overall, I think beau and vex share a very similar kind of trauma of exclusion in their formative years, that's caused them to have a lot of similar traits that manifest in different ways - for vex, she maintains control through her material posessions and beau finds an emotional control in her asshole-ness. I've broken this down into 5 points on which I think comparing the two really emphasizes that claim:

1. daddy issues: both beau and vex have awful no good terrible very bad dads. both syldor and thoreau can suck my ass. they both raised their kids with little love and impossible-to-meet expectations, alientating them and leaving them with lifelong feelings of inferiority and unbelonging. If beau and vex were to meet, i think they would have a very friendly toast to shitty dads, and then have a good drunk vent about it an hour later.

but, at the same time, the actual minutae of their trauma and the ways it manifests are nearly polar opposites. syldor wanted nothing to do with vex, or else wanted her to somehow become a full elf. her issue was that she would never be able to belong, despite her desire to, and as she grew up it lead to her being overly protective and even possessive of the people she found who DID accept her as she was.

With beau, rather than exclusion, her father created an environment of toxic inclusion. He created a role for beau to belong in, disregarding her distate for actually fulfilling it. And, as such, she ended up making herself into someone who could have no expectations and pushed away anyone who tried to set them up for her. In the end, they both came to love themselves by abandoning the woman their father wanted them to be but for vex it was the laying down of an impossible dream and for beau it was the picking up of a mantle she had feared to wear.

2. brothers: now, on the topic of family, I also think its really interesting how their interactions with their brothers play out. We've got vex and vax, tied at the hip til the very end and then some; and then we've got beau and TJ - decades apart and with beau barely acknolwedging TJ's existence. But, even that distance between beau and TJ didn't stop her caring for him when they actually met. She gave him lucky Jade, and she entertained the idea of kidnapping him to get him away from her stinko dad.

And I'd espeically like to talk about what she said outside the hag's hut - "I think Luc and TJ could be best friends", in comparison to the way Vex reacted when Vax told her was going to Zephrah with Keyleth for the year break. There's an aspect to the way they interact with their brothers that lets them slip back into those bad habits they formed growing up (NOT that i'm claiming vex and vax were like toxic for each other. but even good relationships can have unhealthy moments).

With Beau, when she offers to give her happiness so TJ can grow up safe, she's trying to take on the role she's ""supposed"" to fill - the big sister, the protector - because she failed to fill the one her father set out. And with Vex, when she grows jealous of Vax, it's because she's afraid that his leaving with keyleth is a sign that she no longer belongs in his inner circle, and she falls back on that childish, desperate desire to do anything to be accepted unconditionally.

3. romance: spoilers for 5 or so most recent m9 eps (115-120) if you haven't watched them ahead!!!! at this point, both vex and beau have an endgame romance - percy and yasha respectively. Obviously as the m9's campaign is still playing out, that could change, but like. yasha wrote her a love letter and they're officially going on a date so i'm counting that as at least endgame-track rather than just random flirting. What's interesting to me is that they both seem to flip between the SAME roles between their (in-game) general perception and their actual pursual of romance.

Vex gets characterized as a pretty big flirt, right? She's got the winks, the casual "darling". She's flashed grog her boobs on multiple instances with little prompting. Beau, similarly, has easily the most game out of anyone in the m9. She's slept with two guest characters and at least one more npc in the events of the game. Caleb made her a fuck mirror in her room in the mansion. And yet, in both of their actual romantic endeavors, they became the shy, uncertain type.

Vex only confessed her feelings when Percy was laying dead before her, and not an hour of game play before percy kissed her in the woods, she had a talk with vax about how she was pretty sure he didn't like her that way and she didn't want to pursue it. Beau, similarly, spent a very long time convinced that yasha wasn't looking for love after zuala, especially not in anyone like her, asked everyone in the party if they thought yasha ACTUALLY liked her, just to be safe, and then still terrified to ask her out after recieving a literal love letter. I'd argue this shift comes from that same sense of unbelonging - they're very good at pretending they fit a role but doubt their actual right to take it when the opportunity is presented. This time, the role is the lover rather than the daughter.

4. authority: Both vex and beau grew up shunned by the upper crust of society, and grew to mistrust those kinds of people. And yet, both of their arcs result in them assuming such a position. Vex, thrown out of high society gets her place as a baronness, and Beau, running from leadership of her father's business ends up a top member of the Cobalt Soul. There's not a lot here, but I find it interesting how both of their stories involve them shedding their baggage regarding authority and power and assuming it in a way that they feel comfortable in - invitation by someone she trusts for vex, and a promise of freedom of will and control for beau.

5. their deadliest sins: this is the point at which their similarities culminate and transform to a fundamental difference. despite everything they share - shitty childhoods, the small piece of family that's still good, flirtiness masking shy love, and a mistrust of those in power - vex and beau are such different characters because of their biggest vices. Vex, both in game and out, is "the greedy one". She's stingy with money, she haggles for everything, she mourns the loss of physical objects. Beau is "the mean one". She cares little for people's feelings if they're not in her immediate circle, she focuses on her tough guy image, she laughs at things she knows she shouldn't.

And, over the course of the campaign, as they find unconditional acceptance, they grow away from these traits (I won't say they grow out of them) because they heal from the things causing these vices to begin with. I've always been vocal about vex's greed being a manifestation of her class insecurity, and beau's asshole-ness stemming from her fear of being forced back into another position of complacency. And I stand by that now - all the similarities in their backstories are what tally up to these different women.

Despite her careful tally of party funds and her reflexive bargaining, vex is not cruel. she is not angry on her own behalf. She saves two boys from the market in the city of brass at great personal cost, she relinquishes an entire dragon's hoard to the devastated city of Westruun, she took the time to save a baby bear from a cage when she could have just cut and run after escaping her own. She's the first one most people go to when they need a shoulder to cry on, and she's devastated when they don't (thinkin about when Scanlan left). She carved "forgiveness" into the bow she stole from a man after killing him by proclaiming how much she loved someone, because she knew anger had no place in her heart.

And Beau, Beau is a bitch and she's harsh, but she doesn't hoard or protect like vex did. she spends her money without much of a second thought. She pitches in to help her friends buy a ton of glowsticks, and she loves to indulge in material desires like drink and good food and the nicer inn room. She's a member of an organization that's about making knowledge public rather than guarding it. And, though this may be controversial, I think her position with bowlgate of "its not our problem what cali wants to do with it", her long-standing mistrust of their alliance with the bright queen and and more recently with the tomb takers of "i want to go in and talk, rather than assuming they're antagonistic, even if it puts us at a disadvantage" are both examples of this non-possessiveness too - she has no need or desire to get involved in controlling what other people are doing.

so, i guess the general conclusion here is: vex struggles to let go of things, of money, of people. beau struggles to let herself be known in case she gets wrongly interpreted again. they both fight feelings of inadequacy, they both fight the feelings of not belonging, of 'doing it wrong', they fight the perception of them as shitty people because of the shells they hide in despite their absolute hearts of gold. but at the end of the day, vex's story is one of having to lay down what could never be hers so she can carry what is, and beau's story is one of allowing herself to be known so a place can be made for her.

#hope this is what you and that other anon were looking for jdsflkdsajfsaldfsa #critical role #vexahlia #beauregard #long post

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spideymarvelws · 5 years ago

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Peter Parker has been desperate for a connection ever since his break up with MJ, and with everyone in his life leaving one by one, he has turned to the only person that he knows in his heart will never leave him, you. With valentines day right around the corner, Peter goes to great lengths to make sure that you stay his one and only valentine.

Dark!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

warnings: SMUT, 18+ my dudez, fem receiving, degrading, dirty talk, alluding to kidnapping in the end, obsessive behavior, sad peter (pls give this boy a break)

a/n: this is my first ever smut and dark fic so yeee sorry for a kinda shitty smut scene. kinda wanted to get something out for valentines day and ive been binging YOU so this was born. Message me or comment if you wanna be added to my peter parker taglist!

Word count: 2.2k

Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

Peter parker was never the one to be selfish. He always put other peoples needs before his whether it be one of his closest friends or a random stranger on the street. His hero complex was through the roof and all the other avengers always praised him for his selflessness and care when I came to saving the city of queens.

But despite his good doings to world around him, most things never went Peter’s way and the people he cared about most, always walked out of his life and left him for nothing, at least thats what it felt like to him.

His first crush’s father ended up being a criminal which he had to fight that ended with her moving halfway across the country. On a vacation that he desperately needed he ended up questioning every person he meet and fought a fake hero only to get battered and bruised on a trip that was suppose to help him relax. Hell every father figure he’s had has betrayed, left or died under his cause.

But what sent him to his breaking point was when the supposed love of his life broke up with him for God knows what reason. He had stop listening when she mentioned taking time apart and figuring things out.

Peter didn’t remember much from that night, all he took from his broken heart was that the world he lived in was an unforgiving place. The more good he gave to others the more he lost. He realized that good deeds came with a price to pay with your own self conscious and he started questioning his own purpose as spider-man and whether small tiny wins were worth the world of despair and loss.

He knew that something in him changed that night, a new darkness grew inside of him. He no longer felt the urge to help others against his own well being. But something inside him also told him to seek help, and that why at three in the morning he found himself standing outside your door.

You and Peter met during his internship with Tony Stark and immediately hit it off. To peter this happened right after the liz incident and hanging out with you was like a new breath of fresh air. He’s never connected with someone so quickly and every afternoon after petrol he would find himself eating some sandwiches from Delmars with you on your apartment’s roof.

However three months into the friendship, you had too move away from queens to brooklyn. Peter was devastated, again another person to leave his life, but you made sure to keep in contact with him through text and video calls, Peter knew that you would remain the one constant, outside of may and ned, that would never leave his side.

“One second!” he heard your voice shout, slightly muffled since the door was still closed.

The door flew open revealing you in al your glory. Pajama shorts and a sports bra with a cardigan over it which you kept tugging in front to cover your revealing choice of sleep wear.

“Peter? What are you doing here? Jesus you could’ve called at least. Come on in, don’t wanna stand outside forever, its fucking cold this time of night.” you rambled pulling peter inside your home.

You immediately got a blanket to wrap peter in and set him on the couch to sit. Without saying a word you moved gracefully to the kitchen, pouring out some hot chocolate from a covered pot on the stove into a mug.

Walking over to were peter sat and handed the steaming hot cocoa to him. He took it from your hands without taking his eyes from your own while you moved to grab yours that was placed on the coffee table.

“So,” you started taking a sip of the drink in you hands, “What brings you here, in my house, at three am, looking like absolute dog shit?”

Ah, there she is peter thought

“Would you believe that I just wanted to say hi?” Peter chuckled, his humorous tone not quite meeting the look in his eyes.

“No, no I don’t, I know that that could be easily done over video call pete,” you deadpanned looking at his with your sparkling eyes. Even at the early hour you looked heavenly to peter and that god damn nickname, he never knew hove much he loved it coming out of your mouth until now.

Softening your gaze you put down your mug and grabbed Peters hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his. Both of you looked down at your intertwined hands before you started back talking in a much softer tone, “I also know that it’s much easier to swing to your girlfriends house that to see me towns over when you’re in distress.”

After hearing you mention girlfriend he tightened his hold on your hand and squeezed his eyes shut. The word was almost like a trigger to his emotions that he desperately wanted to suppress.

“Oh baby,” you whispered before setting pete’s mug down and pulling him into a hug letting him rest his entire body weight against you.

He melted into your touch, forgetting what it felt like after a year away, countless calls and texts couldn’t compare to the warmth that your arms provided. He put more weight on you body causing both of you to fall lightly on the couch with him on top, sticking his face into the crook of your neck.

Placing a kiss on the crown of his head you whispered, “do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not-not really,” peter muttered pushing himself deeper into your embrace

“Ok baby, just get some rest, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” you said, moving your hand slowly up his arm that was tucked around your waist. Before drifting off into sleep he felt you put your chin on the top of his head not before placing one last kiss on his head.

The past two months Peter has been noticing things he never has about you and every day he found something else to love.

And yes, he said love. He couldn’t believe that after all these years of pinning over girl and girl, the perfect one was in his grasp the whole time. You’ve been so caring and kind the past weeks and he couldn’t be more grateful.

He found himself wanting to be closer to you, wanting to feel the love that you gave him over and over again. He made himself home in your bed, cuddling with you almost every night, maybe under excuse of nightmares but some nights he would pull a card that you never refused.

“It’s what mj would’ve done”

Of course this sentence now meant nothing to him since he found someone else, someone better, but he couldn’t help but feel smug when a hint of jealousy would fill your eyes before turning into the soft, caring ones he grew to love.

But peter wanted more, he wanted more than just a platonic relationship. He wanted the love and attention that you gave him not to be just to help him through a rough time but rather because you were his and he was yours.

Lately he’s been getting impatient with moving things slowly, of course you guys haven’t seen each other in a year so there was a lot of catching up to do, but he was tired of helpless pinning and useless signals when you just thought it was because he was hurting.

Valentines day was coming up soon, and peter for the past few days had been formulating a plan in his head to make you his, his only and his forever. He knew that you be hesitant in the approach that he will be making to confess his growing love but you would warm up to it. After all you didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

Currently you were showering in you room, the day before valentines day and it was time to put his plan into action.

Walking into your room he heard the shower stop. He walking around, resisting the urges to just barge into the bathroom. Once the door opened he saw you in all your glory, of course the towel you wore around your body covered what he wanted to see the most but he would get to that part later.

Taking large steps he grabbed your waste firmly and pulled you against his chest. He could see the confusion in your facial features but before you could get a word out he placed his lips against yours.

Perfect just like he had imagined, not that everything about you wasn’t perfect but your lips was probably his favorite part of you. Whenever you would rambled about silly things like movies or your favorite book, he always saw himself gazing at your lips, memorized by the way they move and how soft they looked. Clutching on to you towel tighter you accepted the kiss only to pull away a few seconds too early for peter.

“peter, what-” you started but peter put his lips against you ear, shushing you silently.

“don’t worry princess, I know you want this just as much as me,” he said softy putting his hands on yours and loosening your hold on the towel.

Peter knew what he was doing, he did formulate a plan, a formula one can say, to make sure you stay with him forever. But the last straw in proceeded with it was when he came home from the supermarket earlier than expected and heard you moaning his name from your room.

“peter,” you faintly moaned tilting you head back as peter made his way down you neck, placing light kisses in his trail. Your reaction made him smirk, knowing that he was only half way through with his plan.

“I’m going to take care of you baby girl, but first,” he growled ripping away the towel and pulling you towards the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, you climbed on to his lap and began ferociously kissing him.

His hands travelled from your waste to your ass, lightly squeezing before giving a light smack. You lets out a small moan upon contact, moving from his lips down to his neck.

“you like that don’t you?” peter groaned as you started to grind on his crotch over his jeans, “there’s plenty of more were that came from.”

With that he turned you over and laid you on the bed.

“Touch yourself baby girl,” peter said before standing back up and removing his shirt flexing his muscles knowing it turned you on even more.

“peter, peter please,” you moaned, and peter could’ve sworn he almost cum right there.

The view of you rubbing your pussy with one hand and grabbing your breast with the other, tilting your head back as you moaned his name. His name was coming out of your mouth as you pleasured yourself in front of him.

He couldn’t wait to see this sight for the rest of his life, he couldn’t wait to have someone as beautiful as you were there by his side, his forever.

Walking swiftly towards the bed, he crawled his way on top of your form.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” peter whispered before moving down and diving into your dripping pussy.

You let out a scream of pleasure, arching your back from the bed. Peter swiftly placed an arm around your tummy, pushing you back down to the mattress, keeping you in place.

You used your hands to take some of his hair and tugged pulling out a moan from peter causing vibrations on your clit triggering a moan of our own.

Taking his mouth off of your womanhood, before you could wine he replaced it with his fingers quick to enter you.

You though his fingers couldn’t compare to his mouth but you were surely mistake penetrating you with a strong fast pace . Adding one by the minute before he was knuckles deep with three fingers.

To top it all of, his dirty talk as he looked up at you with a sinister look on his face.

“you like this don’t you baby girl, hmm? Fuck- bet I can make you cum with just my fingers deep in you pussy huh? Such a slut for me and me only. Don’t forget that, your mine. Now cum for me princess, can you do that for me baby?”

Peter calling you slut was enough to make you scream his name before squirting over his face. You’ve never been finger fucked so hard before or even squirted in general. Every new sensation you were feeling overwhelmed you, causing your your vision to black out. The sight of peter grabbing a cloth from the bathroom was the last thing you saw before darkness overflowed you.

Peter came back from the bathroom and smiled at your figure sleeping mindlessly on his bed. He had just killed two birds with one stone, planning on just slipping something in your water since he knew that your throat would be sore after. He knew he didn’t have much time and that you would wake up at some point so he started moving quickly.

He cleaned you up and dressed you I his T-shirt and sweats then carried you bridal style out the front door and placed you inside a black car which already housed most of your belongings packed in suitcases in the trunk.

He laid you down in the back seat making sure you were comfortable before proceeding to the driver’s seat. Taking one more glance at your sleeping form, peter pulled out of the driveway and made his way to his and your new forever home.

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euphoriahrs · 4 years ago

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bittersweet | jjk [i.may]

» pairing: manhwa artist!jeongguk x oc

» genre: roommate au

» synopsis: it’s easier to act indifferent than to show vulnerability.

» word count: 2.2k

» disclaimer: contains strong language, but very little

» rated pg 13

*lowercase is intended*

[series mlist]

chapters: i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii.

a/n: this is my first book, so don’t forget to reblog and let me know what you think about it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 late spring heat welcomed haewon’s skin as she exited the apartment building with a satisfied smirk and made her way to the park.

the town that she lived in was not that far from the city but close enough so she could go anytime she wanted. it was more peaceful in this town whereas, in the city, there was commotion all day and night.

since she was little, she loved being alone with her thoughts in silence. during her school years, she was okay with being a loner. sure she had friends she would hang out with from time to time, but she preferred having time to herself. now that was something that she rarely had the privilege of having since she moved into her apartment and got a job.

the complex that she stayed in was well kept, not the best of the best, but good enough. the rent was manageable since she shared the apartment with a roommate that she had gotten to know during the past couple of months. the roommate in question was a special case, one that she either enjoyed or despised, but mostly despised.

her legs unconsciously strolled past the numerous buildings on the streets, though one, in particular, caught her eye, one that she hadn’t noticed before. letting curiosity take over, she decided to take a detour and have a peek at the building.

when she got closer it turned out to be an ice cream parlor. the building had a cute but simple modern style to it.

a bell rang as she walked in alarming the worker that there was a customer. she looked around, noticing the green and white modern furniture.

“hello! welcome to rocky’s road!” the girl greeted in a bored state.

haewon glanced at the girl, she was quite pretty, she had a cute girl next door appearance. she was average height, maybe shorter, with honey skin, straight black hair, brown doe eyes, and cute round lips.

haewon, who had slightly sharper features and a slightly darker skin tone, with dark hair that was dyed with ash purple highlights that was always kept in a ponytail, gave her a more mature appearance compared to the girl.

“hi,” haewon approached the register with a small smile. enjoying the smell of fresh waffle cones. “what can i get you today?” the girl asked.

haewon glanced at her name tag, yujin, then directed her attention to the menu on the wall. feeling slightly overwhelmed as there were so many different flavors and combinations to choose from, she continued to stare at the possibilities.

yujin noticed her struggle. “i recommend our special the rocky mountains, which is three scoops of our homemade rocky road in a waffle bowl with drizzled chocolate syrup on the bottom two scoops, marshmallow sauce drizzled on all three and chocolate chips sprinkled all over!” she excitedly explained.

haewon rubbed her chin contemplating whether she should get the treat or not.

after a couple of seconds, she grinned, “sure, i’ll take one of those.”

“that’ll be $4.74. you won’t regret it!” yujin chimed. haewon half smiled, “i hope i won’t,” she paused and adds, “has this place always been here?” still wondering why she hasn’t noticed it before.

“no, we just opened a couple of days ago. there used to be another restaurant here, i don’t remember what it was, but I do know that they ran out of business after drunken fights repeatedly happened and it ruined their image, so no one wanted to dine in,” yujin replied preparing the ice cream.

haewon let out a soft ‘oh’ and walked away to one of the chairs close by. she looked around to get more familiar with her surroundings and pulled out her phone to play a game to help pass time.

suddenly it felt like all of the air was pushed out of her lungs when she remembered what the building used to be. this building used to be the pizzeria that she had been wanting to visit since she moved to this area but never had the time to due to the schedule of her job.

she let out a heavy sigh and turned off her phone not being in the mood to play her game anymore. she dropped her head onto the table to cope with the pain. yujin shot her head up to make sure her customer was okay before focusing back on work.

“i was hoping that i’ll get a chance to eat there soon,” haewon internally groaned. that was the only place that seemed to have decent pizza in this town. she groaned again when another wave of sadness and regret washed over her as she grieved.

a few minutes passed and yujin brings out her finished ice cream and smiled cheerfully, “here’s your order,” she paused, “earlier it seemed as if you were upset about that restaurant not being here anymore. i’m sorry for that, but now you have the parlor that you can come to anytime you like,” she smiled cheekily, “so your next order will be on the house,” trying to cheer the girl up.

haewon was about to object the offer but yujin continued to speak, “i’m actually new to this town and haven’t had the chance to meet anyone yet because i’ve been busy working and organizing my apartment… so would you like to possibly hang out sometime?” she perked with puppy eyes.

haewon froze for a second thinking yujin was coming off a little too strong but thought about how she needed new friends as well. she lost contact with her old friends from high school after they all graduated. she was the only one to lose contact with them, they on the other hand, were all still great friends and went to the same college. but due to her habits of not wanting to talk to anyone, she didn’t try to keep in touch with her friends even if she felt that she should’ve.

haewon nodded at yujin’s request not wanting her to be upset if she didn’t give her an answer in a few seconds.

yujin squealed, “i’m sure that you know my name already, but it’s yujin.”

haewon answered, “and i’m haewon.”

the two chatted for a little longer before haewon remembered that she wanted to go to the park, so they said their goodbyes and she was on her way.

she ate her ice cream on the way enjoying the peaceful outdoors around her, the calm before the storm she thought . her smile transformed into a smirk when she thought about what she did earlier that morning.

when the park was in sight, her thoughts quickly went away, excited to finally be able to reach her destination.

she skipped her way to the park, weaving through running kids to get to the abandoned set of swings that she found on a whim when she first moved into the area.

☽ ⋆ ☾

it was a brighter night than usual with the light of the full moon shining down. haewon thought that it was the perfect night to explore the new area, so she grabbed her phone and left the apartment that her residing roommate was currently knocked out in.

she casually strolled through the streets enjoying the quiet night and being in her thoughts when a playground across the street caught her interest. quickening her pace to cross the road, her feet made contact with the sidewalk and continued towards the playground.

she was looking around reminiscing to when she was a kid playing on the slides, chasing and tormenting other kids with bugs and worms when she noticed a silhouette in a wooded area not too far away from where she was. she headed deeper into the area, stepping on sticks and dead leaves on the way to search for what the object was.

carefully, she stepped closer until it was in view. it was a swing set. that had been left to rust and be forgotten, to spend the rest of its time falling apart until it was completely in shambles.

she was walking towards the set when she froze in place. there was a shuffling noise coming out of the bushes close by. her eyes widened and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.

“it’s close to midnight, who would be out at- oh yeah, me.” she quivered. trying to calm down, she blindly tried to search the area but wasn’t very effective because the trees blocked most of the moonlight. so she waited a few seconds to see if the noise was going to reoccur before continuing to walk to the swings.

she didn’t even get to take five steps before there was another shuffle coming from the bushes.

she jumped in surprise and failed to land on her feet with a thud, mumbling a stream of explicit words as she got up. then she remembered that she took taekwondo and silently thanked the gods that her dad forced her to take those lessons back in middle school.

“i’ll have to thank dad later,” she pondered. feeling somewhat prepared, she stood up, dusted the back of her pants off, and got in position ready for anything that could come out of that bush.

a figure slowly started to creep out causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up even further than before, if that was possible.

her nervous thoughts rapidly shot through her mind. trying as hard as she could to block them out, she quietly hummed a random melody that she thought of on the spot.

her eyes locked onto where the target currently was. the small amount of moonlight allowed her to at least see the silhouette of the figure.

after a few moments, the figure finally sprinted out. quickly gathering up her courage, haewon dashed right towards the figure but stopped midway letting out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding in.

“a cat?” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in agitation.

“a cat got me that scared? a fucking cat?!” she exasperated. a few moments passed in silence so she could gather her thoughts. her whole life flashed before her eyes just because of a cat?

“boo!” she quickly spun in the direction of the voice only to find an older man that looked to be in his fifties standing proudly with his coat opened in his hands.

“wha-” she screamed with terror after she realized what she was witnessing while covering her not so virgin eyes.

in a split second, she ran at full speed towards the man. who once had a sly grin, now was shocked in place as she lunged her knee at his exposed balls and scurried her way back to the apartment.

☽ ⋆ ☾

she spotted the woods and ran for the swings.

while eating the rest of her ice cream, she listened to the late morning conversations of the birds along with the trees rustling in the background, shifting the sun’s rays. butterflies, dragonflies, and other little insects flew through the empty spaces filled with the sun’s rays, weaving through trees and other bugs. occasionally, she would see a butterfly or two become a bird’s lunch. the moving sun rays gently radiated off her skin as she looked at the ladybug that was chilling on the seat beside her. she enjoyed the relaxing ambiance before it was to be interrupted.

haewon got off of the swing and headed to the recycling bin for plastic to dump her empty ice cream bowl away. as she walked back to the swings suddenly a song from her favorite band the rose interrupted the conversations that took place around her.

a toothy grin appeared on her face. she looked at the time on her small wristwatch. it was about time that her roommate would decide to wake up since it was the weekend.

she grabbed her phone from her back pocket, her grin turning into the one the cheshire cat possesses and accepted the call. but before she could answer, a husky livid voice boomed through the speaker, “haewon! what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

her smirk not faltering one bit “what’s wrong?” she asked with her voice laced in fake concern and chuckling to herself, “this isn’t funny haewon! you’re as good as dead when you come back,” the voice shouted with irritation. haewon burst into laughter. her boisterous laugh combined with the booming voice coming from her phone occupied the area around her.

“don’t- don’t act like your the innocent one here,” she tried to say in between laughs still imagining how he must look being upset over such a harmless prank.

a few moments later and she’s hunched over with tears stained on her face. she heard her name being said on the other side of the phone. “see ya” she breathed heavily and hung up feeling too tired to talk to them anymore.

after she caught her breath and cleared her mind, she stood back up and wiped her face before making a beeline to the apartment ready to embrace the storm or maybe just a squall that she had awakened.

#bittersweet #bts #bts jungkook #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts series #bts wattpad #bts au #wattpad #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #euphoriahrs

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letsmustafa · 4 years ago

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COMMUNICATION

I) Introduction :

“Communication is your ticket to success, if you pay attention and learn to do it effectively” - Theo Gold (Author of Positive Thinking)

The very vital ingredient of life is to share feelings, expressions, to be get heard and add meanings. In fact, the key to life is means to communicate. In other word, we can say, only through communication can human life hold meaning. The process of understanding each other, express ideas, sharing opinion and passing of information or facts. And therefore, it’s imperative to be potent with effective communication skills and techniques in order to enrich the communication process more meaningful and efficient, eventually to be successful in any desired aim or task. We all are bind in relationship whether at home, workplace or in social affairs. Base of successful relationship is communication, and to do it effectively we have to be master in the art of effective communication. To communicate effectively, one must understand the emotion behind the information being said. Understanding communication skills such as; listening, verbal and non-verbal communication, and managing stress can help better the relationships one has with others.

“Your ability to communicate is an important tool in your pursuit of your goals, whether it is with your family, your co-workers or your clients and customers” - Lee Brown (American politician, criminologist and businessman)

For many, communication seems like a gift. In reality, it is a skill that can be learned through education and practice. Thus, I strongly believe that, each and every individual can grow and become successful in their respective filed and achieve their desired goal if they are championed in effective communication and eager to learn and adopt it as their essential skill set.

II) About Me :

Born and brought up in defense area, a town in India, my upbringing has great influenced of military culture. Being retried naval personnel, my father has always given utmost important to disciplined life be it in education, sports or workplace. My mother, a housemaker, truly believe in freedom of open thinking and expression. She has been source of inspiration for us as siblings to pursue our dreams and has her immense support in every manner to achieve it. I, being the youngest, had more privilege to be with her and get nurtured under the shadow as the wife of warrior, a tough warrior in real life.

As a defense ward, I was fortunate for having had my schooling in military school throughout and chance of meeting and interacting with colleagues coming from different part of the country. Spending my early life with friends, each one with special personality may it be their language, culture, living style, faith etc., was actually the great learning. I must say, defense kids are breed apart. They can adjust everywhere and has ability to manage life with everyone because of their wide exposure in their initial days. They are really blessed with skills to express themselves quite effectively and bond easily to create value network in life.

Post completing my graduation, I moved to metro city New Delhi. City with full of scope and hope. Opportunity in every field and avenue to fulfill our dreams. I did my post-graduation (PG) here with an ambition of successful career in corporate world, and hence PG in an MBA with finance and marketing as specialization. Since then I’m a working professional in different sectors namely IT/ITES, HR Consulting and Real Estate respectively. My work domain largely involved; business development, marketing communication (MarCom), client relationship (CRM) and event management. My key result area (KRAs) also involved the part of database management (DBMS), management information (MIS) and team handling.

With having experience of 12 years in different sectors and domain altogether, I always find a scope of learning, improvement and areas to challenge myself to upscale a level ahead from where I was last standing. Upgrading the communication tactics and strategy is organization demand to align with sophisticated corporate purpose and achieving core objectives. Sometime rejection and disapproval are obvious outcome. However, answer to all is keep on brushing and strengthening the communication strategies, keep it effective and nurture leadership quality with dynamic approach simultaneously.

“When you give yourself permission to communicate what matters to you in every situation you will have peace despite rejection or disapproval. Putting a voice to your soul helps you to let go of the negative energy of fear and regret” - Shannon L. Alder (An inspirational author)

III) Communication strategy and leadership:

Taking role as senior executive level, it’s important to quickly establish or elevate communication skill sets or program. I understand that, the higher we go, more people within the organization would want to know about what we are going to do and how will we do it. We may have inherited hundreds of staff distributed across the world, to whom we may need to communicate regarding our renewed mission, strategy or brand objectives. Furthermore, there may be numerous other stakeholders outside the company that we have to communicate to, like investors, banks, customers etc. Disciplined communication strategy is essential to get across the critical message to key stakeholders without it being drowned by the noise or lost in translation.

It is crucial to implement excellent communication strategy for success in business world. To encourage members of a company to work together effectively. How team and team members within a company interact determines whether projects will run smoothly or be fraught with challenges. This is where leadership comes in. Good leadership and effective communication go hand in hand. Leaders interact with every team and a large number of employees, how a leader communicates sets the tone for the rest of the organization. Good leader should able to motivate, persuade and encourage others to work towards a common goal.

“When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and a true maxim, that ‘a drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall” - Abraham Lincoln (Statesman, lawyer and former US president)

It’s essential to identify the leadership style for better understanding on how we must interact with, and perceived by, employees across the organization. Irrespective of the position, we need to develop our individual leadership style and cultivate the essential habit of self-awareness. Even before entering the managerial position, leadership qualities are required depending upon the context and situation. It may be goal oriented, action based, people centric, behavioral etc. Excellent communication skills are required to manage a team at workplace or to manage organization efficiently. And communication gets affected by different leadership styles. To conclude, effective communication and leadership together gives an effective leadership communication. Communication makes a leader effective who develops better understanding in teams. These understanding bring a sense of trust in employees on the leader and on each other, work together, which further reinforce congenial relations with team members and creates an excellent work atmosphere. This enhance the dedication towards work and eventually helps to achieve the desired targets. Conceptual model of effective leadership communication can be explained as below –

Strategic Narrative -

There has been a tangential shift in the way communication is being approached in organizations today. This tangential shift from a formal directive method of communication to a more engaging and inclusive conversational style. The distance between the sender and the receiver is getting shorter and the need for inclusivity and relationship building through communication is getting stronger. One of the major reasons for this shift is the evolution of the workforce and the relationships they hope to make in the workplace. Formality and hierarchy have made way for equality and a flatter organization structure. It’s a common refrain in executive suites these days: “We need a new narrative.” Therefore, story telling is very effective way to excite, attract customers, to engage and motivate. A story that is concise but comprehensive.

“Storytelling can be described as the art of communication using stories and narratives”

When a person needs to be motivated or action is desired out of him/her, communication in the form of stories will generate a stronger reaction when compared to passive data given to him/her.

Active Listening, Receiving and Implementing Feedback –

“When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen” - Ernest Hemingway (An American journalist, novelist, short-story writer, and sportsman)

Effective leaders know when they need to talk and, more importantly, when they need to listen. employees’ opinions, ideas, and feedback are valuable. And when they do share, actively engage in the conversation—pose questions, invite them to elaborate, and take notes. It’s important to stay in the moment and avoid interrupting. It’s critical, though, that you don’t just listen to the feedback. You also need to act on it, to build up the faith, trust and transparency. By letting your employees know they were heard and then apprising them of any progress you can, or do, make, they’ll feel as though you value their perspective and are serious about improving.

IV) Conclusion :

Communication is the core of effective leadership. To influence and inspire the team, we’ve to be championed in transparency and practicing empathy. Need to understand how other perceive one’s perspective basis on verbal and non-verbal cues. Figure out the scope of improvement and development process and align the plan to guide and track progress.

#effective communication #leadership #leadership communication #storytelling #active listening #persuasion #empathy #compassion #teambuilding #transparency #feedback

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margdarsanme · 4 years ago

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NCERT Class 12 History Chapter 2 Kings, Farmers and Towns Early States and Economies

NCERT Class 12 History Solutions

Chapter 2 Kings, Farmers and Towns Early States and Economies

NCERT TEXTBOOK QUESTIONS SOLVED : Q 1. Discuss the evidence of craft production in Early Historic cities. In what ways is this different from the evidence from Harappan cities?

Ans. Widespread and deep excavations in the early historic towns have not been possible due to the fact that these towns are still inhabited. In Harappan Civilisation, we have been fortunate enough that excavations have taken place widespread. Despite this shortcoming, we have found many artefacts in the historic towns. These throw light on the craftsmanship of those days. There are other evidences too, that throw light on the craftsmanship of those days. The salient features of such evidences are as follows:

1. From the sights the fine pottery bowls and dishes have been found. They are glossy too and we call them Northern Black Polished Ware. It looks they were used by the rich people.

2. There have also been evidence of ornaments, tools, weapons, vessels and figurines. There are a wide range of items made of gold, silver, copper, bronze, ivory, glass, shell and terracotta.

3. The donor inscription tells who all lived in towns in terms of professionals and craftsmen. It included washer men, weaver, scribes, carpenters, goldsmith, ironsmith, etc. It is notable in Harappan towns there are no evidences of iron use.

4. The craftsmen and artisans built their guilds too. They collectively bought raw materials, produced and marketed their products.

Q 2. Describe the salient features of Mahajanapadas.

Ans. Mahajanapadas were states that existed between 6th and 4th BC centuries. Buddhist and Jain texts mention sixteen Mahajanapadas. The name of all these are not uniform in all texts but some names are common and uniform which means they were the powerful ones. These Mahajanapadas are Vajji, Magadha, Kaushal, Kuru, Panchal, and Gandhar.

The important features of the Mahajanapadas are as follows.

1. Most of the Mahajanapadas were ruled by powerful kings. However, there were some Mahajanapadas where rule was in the hands of people, we call them republics. In some states the king and the subject had collective control on the economic resources of the state.

2. Every Mahajanapadas had its own capital. The capital normally would be surrounded by fort. The fortification of the capital was needed for protection and economic resources.

3. It was around 6th Qentury BC, Brahmins began to compile scripture called “Dharmshastra” which states rules of morality including that of monarch. Herein it was mentioned that the king should be Kshatriya.

4. The main job of the king was collection of taxes from farmers, traders, craftsmen. They also accepted donations.

5. It was considered fair to plunder neighbouring countries for riches.

6. Gradually Mahajanapadas began to have full time army and officials. Soldiers were from the ranks of farmers. Q 3. How do historians reconstruct the lives of ordinary people?

Ans. Ordinary people could not leave behind any historical evidence about their life. Hence, the historians use a variety of sources to reconstruct the lives of the common people during the ancient times. The important sources are:

1. Remains of houses and pottery give an idea of the life of common men.

2. Some inscriptions and scriptures talk about the relation between monarchs and the subject. It talks about taxes and happiness and unhappiness of the common men.

3. Changing tools of craftsmen and farmers talk about the lifestyle of the people.

4. Historians also depend upon folklores to reconstruct the lives of the people during the ancient times. Q 4. Compare and contrast the list of things given to the Pandyan chief (Source 3) with those produced in the village of Danguna (source 8). Do you notice any similarities and differences?

Ans. The gifts given to Pandya chief included things like ivory, fragrant wood, honey, sandal¬wood, pepper, flowers, etc. in additions to many birds and animals were also given as gifts. On the contrary, items produced in the village of Danguda included grass, skin of animals, flower salt and other minerals, etc. In both the lists the only common item is flower. Q 5. List some of the problems faced by the epigraphists.

Ans. The specialists who study inscriptions are called Epigraphists. Some of the important problems they encounter when they try to decipher inscriptions are as follows:

1. Many of the inscriptions are not found in proper shape, they are partly damaged, hence deciphering them becomes a knotty problem.

2. The inscriptions are written from the point of view of those who have created it. Hence, in order to get an impartial understanding, we need to go beyond the written words, get into its interpretations.

3. Many of the inscriptions have descriptions in symbolic words. Hence deciphering them have become difficult.

4. Sometimes the inscriptions are engrafted in very light colors. Hence, deciphering them becomes difficult. Q 6. Discuss the main features of the Mauryan administration. Which of these elements are evident in the Asokan inscriptions that you have studied ?

Ans. Asokan inscriptions mention all the main features of the administration of the Mauryan Empire. Thus, the features of the administration are evident in the inscriptions of the Asokan age. The important features of the same are as follow:

1. The capital of the Mauryan Empire was Pataliputra. Apart from the capital there ‘ were four other centres of political power in the empire. They were Taxila, Ujjaini, Tosali and Suvamagiri.

2. Committee and subcommittees were formed to run the administration and safety of boundaries. Megasthenes has mentioned that there were one committee and six sub-committees. The six subcommittees and their areas of activities are as follows:

(i) The first sub committee looked after navy. (ii) The second sub committee looked after transport and communications. (iii) The third sub committee looked after infantry. (iv) The fourth sub committee had the responsibility of horses. (v) The fifth had the responsibility of chariots. (vi) The sixth had the responsibility of elephants.

3. Strong network of roads and communications were established. It is notable that no large empire can be maintained in the absence of the same.

4. Asoka made an attempt to keep the empire united by the philosophy of Dhamma. Dhamma are nothing but moral principles that actuated people towards good conducts. Special officers called Dhamma Mahamtras were appointed to propagate Dhamma. In fact Romila Thapar has made it the most important element of the Asokan state’s governing principle. Q 7. This is a statement made by one of the best-known epigraphists of the twentieth century, D.C. Sircar: “There is no aspect of life, culture, activities of the Indians that is not reflected in inscriptions.” Discuss.

Ans. The statement of eminent epigraphist D.C. Sirkar has highlighted the importance of inscription as single source of information that touch upon all areas of our life. Following are the main areas we get information about from the inscriptions;

1. Determination of state’s boundaries: the inscriptions were carved in the territories of the kings and even more important is not often close to the borders. This help us find out boundaries of kingdoms and their expansions thereto.

2. Names of Kings: The names of the kings are mentioned in the inscriptions. The names and titles used by Asoka the Great got revealed through inscriptions only.

3. Historic events: The important historical events are mentioned in the inscriptions. The best example is how the event of the Kalinga war is mentioned in the inscription and how Asoka takes to Dhamma.

4. Information about conduct of Kings: Inscriptions describe the conduct and character of the kings quite well. It is through the inscriptions only that we know Asoka worked for the welfare of the masses.

5. Information about administration: Inscriptions gave information about administration. It is through the inscription. We know that Asoka appointed his son as a Viceroy.

6. Land settlement and Taxes: inscriptions mention how land were granted or gifted. It also talks about various taxes imposed by the ruler.

There is hardly any area of governance of our life that is not mentioned in the inscriptions. Hence, we are inclined to agree with D.C. Sirkar who says, “There is no aspect of life, culture, activities of Indians that is not reflected in the inscriptions.” Q 8. Discuss the notions of kingship that developed in the post-Mauryan period.

Ans. In the post-Mauryan age, the idea of kingship got associated with divine theory of state. Now, the monarchs began to talk about divine sanction to rule the people. Kushan rulers propagated the idea of the same at the unprecented scale. They ruled from central Asia to western India. We can discuss the kingship based on the dynasties.

1. Kushan Kings: Kushan Kings called themselves Devputra and hence, godly status. They built great statues of themselves in temples.

2. Gupta Rulers: Second development of kingship is found during Gupta dynasty. It was a period of large-sized states. Such states were dependent on Samantas who sometimes became powerful enough to usurp the power of kings too.

3. Literature, coins and inscriptions helped us in creating history of those days. Very often poets would describe the monarch often to praise them but giving insight into the history and kingship too. A good example is of Harisena who praised Samudragupta, the great Gupta ruler. Q 9. To what extent were agricultural practices transformed in the period under consideration?

Ans. The demand for taxes increased in the post 600 BC. In order to meet the demand of excessive taxes, without taking lesser produce, forced the farmers to increase productivity. This resulted in the use of new tools and practices of agriculture. The important ones are as follows:

1. Use of plough: Ploughs became commonplace. They were hardly heard of in the past. The use of ploughs began in the Ganga and Cauvery basins. In places where rain was abundant, the plough was used with iron tip. This increased the paddy production manifold.

2. Use of spade: Another tool that changed the system of agriculture is spade. Those farmers who lived in the areas of harsh land used spade.

3. Artificial Irrigation: Apart from rainfall, the farmers now began to look at artificial form of irrigation. This prompted farmers to build wells, ponds, and – canals often collectively. This increased the agricultural production.

The production increased due to new technology and tools. This created a new strata in the society. In the Buddhist literature, there is a description of small and big farmers. They were called Grihpatis. Similar description is given in the Tamil literature too. The position of village head was often hereditary. In such a situation the ownership of land became very important.

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nicolewrites · 5 years ago

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heartstrings - v

the monster has been defeated, its 12:30am and this is done. love you guys.

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

Rating: T Genre: Romance Characters: [Vax’ildan and Keyleth] [Percival de Rolo and Vex’ahlia] Words: 6,230

Kiki @keylethashari has tagged you in a tweet: New Q&A up and we’re talking music! creds to @vexmachina @vaxmachina @burtreynoldsesq @thelumineers and others!! // CR1 Vaxleth+Perc’ahlia YouTuber/Musician/Celebrity AU

AO3

“Oh, this one’s easy, it’s obviously that new Spiderman movie coming out,” Pike answered cheerfully.

Grog pumped his fist and held his hand out for a high-five as he stopped miming. Pike leaned forward and slapped it, the two of them grinning widely. Vex groaned from her seat next to Vax and slumped into Percy’s side.

“How are we losing this?” she demanded.

Keyleth laughed. “Because, as well as you and Vax know the rest of us, it’s still nothing compared to the undeniable team of Grog and Pike.”

Scanlan made an offended sound. “How dare you, Keyleth, I am obviously carrying this team on my back.

Percy snorted. “Sure, Scanlan, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Vax snickered. Keyleth reached up to tap his knee before she pushed herself up from the floor. Vax was sharing the couch with Percy and Vex while Keyleth had been sitting on the floor between Vax’s legs. Grog moved from standing at the mantle to sitting next to the armchair that Scanlan was sitting in. Pike had perched herself on the arm of Scanlan’s chair with her legs draped over his lap.

No one had dared to comment on their positioning, even after Scanlan’s hands found placements with one on her foot and one on the back of her calf. Vax had just winked at Pike and she’d scowled at him in return. It really wasn’t his business and if something was going on between Pike and Scanlan, they needed to sort it out themselves. He had learned that easily enough with Keyleth and his own tumultuous relationship.

Keyleth pulled a slip of paper from the bowl on the fireplace and unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed its contents and she frowned.

“Vax in bed,” Vex drawled.

Vax elbowed his sister sharply in response and Keyleth flushed. Percy gave a low chuckle and Grog didn’t even try to conceal his bark of laughter. Keyleth made eye contact with Vax and he just shrugged. His sister was a shit, that’s all there was to that.

Keyleth steeled herself and pointed at Percy before launching into a one-woman charade of some kind of battle. Percy and Vex both watched, confused, and Vax looked between his maybe-girlfriend and at Percy. She had made a point of pointing at him so it had to be important. Finally, it clicked in his brain.

“The Battle for Glintshore!” he cried. Keyleth beamed and dropped the scrap of paper to the floor.

“Yes!” she cheered, rushing over to Vax. Without a second thought, she leaned down and pecked him on the lips.

Percy smacked himself in the forehead. “That’s my movie. I definitely should have gotten than one.”

Keyleth shrugged. “Vax got it, so at least we got the point.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Percy argued.

Vax was working on the latest video for the channel when his phone buzzed. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, pressing it between his cheek and his shoulder as he saved his changes.

“Vax’ildan speaking,” he greeted quickly.

“Vax, my man!” Scanlan’s cheerful voice sounded in response. “I have a question and an opportunity for you and your darling sister.”

Vax shifted, sliding the phone into his hand as he raised an eyebrow. “An opportunity?”

“So I’ve got this show slot at an outdoor festival this summer and I have the glorious option of finding myself an opening act.”

“Scanlan, is this your way of asking Vex and I to open for you?”

“It absolutely is!” Scanlan replied cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

Vax scratched the back of his head as he spun his chair towards the office door. “I need to talk to Vex and probably Zahra and Cassandra as well, but you can send us the details?”

“Good enough!” Scanlan said. Just before the call ended, Vax heard Scanlan address someone in the background: “I told you that it wouldn’t be an automatic no!”

The line went dead and Vax rolled his eyes. He stood up from his chair and wandered into the living room. Vex was seated on the couch with her self-dubbed “lyric book” cradled in her lap as she tapped a pencil against her chin. Vax approached her, but she heard him coming and snapped the book shut before looking up at him, arching a brow.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Vax shook his head and plopped onto the couch next to her. “How would you feel about opening for Scanlan at a show this summer?”

She twisted towards him, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Official show?”

“Some festival slot he has, yeah,” Vax confirmed.

Vex bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “I mean, it sounds like a cool opportunity, so it depends what Zahra and Cassandra say, right?”

Vax shrugged. “If we want to do it, they won’t say know, you know that.”

Vex nodded. She placed her hand on his arm and gave him a more serious look. “And you, would you be okay with this? We haven’t really had a public show since the Emon Centre.”

Vax laid his hand atop his sister’s and squeezed, trying to display his willingness. “Vex, I’m good.”

She frowned, not quite believing him, but nodded, consenting. “Fine, if you get the approval from Cassandra and Zahra, I’m on board.”

Vax kissed her cheek and stood, already pulling out his phone to call their publicist. “Sounds great, Stubby.”

Vex rolled her eyes. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

Just before Vax could dial Zahra’s number, Vex snapped for his attention. He glanced back at her.

“I’m out with Percy tonight and won’t be home till tomorrow afternoon sometime, so just don’t set any meetings for the morning.”

He nodded and let the phone ring. “Will do.”

“And why, pray tell, are we watching one of Percy’s movies?” Vax asked.

Across the room, fiddling with the TV settings, Keyleth turned to look back at him. She smiled. “Because when we were playing that game the other night, we got it as an option and I’ve kind of been wanting to watch it since then.”

Vax just shrugged in response. “Sure, I guess.”

Keyleth rolled her eyes. “Are you being weird about it because of Vex?”

Vax laughed. “Vex can do what, or who, she likes, I’d just rather be out exploring the city with you.”

Keyleth’s smile softened and she crossed the room to where he was sitting. She slid onto the couch next to him and pressed a kiss to his jaw as she tucked herself against him. Her hand tentatively rested against his stomach as she pulled away, her gaze searching his. “This is okay?”

He kissed her. “Kiki, I’m not going to break.”

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Sue me for being careful, why don’t you?”

Vax kissed the top of her head. “I could never. That would mean raising an argument with you which I would inevitably lose because who would ever side with a scamp like me over this beautiful creature.”

Keyleth’s cheeks flushed and Vax relished in the fact that it was because of him. Even several months into their mostly unlabelled relationship, every time he looked at her it was like the whole world paused for a moment. She was angelic and fascinating and apparently she liked him, so Vax thanked the gods every day.

Keyleth hummed gently. “So I know we said that we were going to watch the movie tonight and I know that fans have ruined our last three dates, but do you want to go get drinks instead?”

Vax chuckled lightly. “And end up at my place instead of yours because Vex is out tonight? Absolutely.”

Keyleth giggled.

Several hours and several drinks later, Vax and Keyleth were walking arm-in-arm back towards Vex and Vax’s apartment from the Raven’s Rook.

“You’re sure Vex isn’t home, right?” Keyleth asked for the third time.

Vax laughed and pulled them to a stop. He slid his arms around her waist and carefully kissed the worried expression on her face. “Kiki, relax, she’s out.”

Keyleth kissed him again a little more firmly and he smiles against her lips. Her fingers sifted through his hair and he pulled her face to his as he cupped her cheeks. They pulled away after a long moment, both flushed lightly. Keyleth looked at him through her eyelashes and Vax had to restrain himself from kissing her again.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

Keyleth’s nose crinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” She kissed him and Vax pressed his lips to hers more firmly until she broke back with a gasp.

She stepped out of his space, but curled her hand into his and tugged him back down the street towards his apartment. He followed her, as always, and they walked the darkened streets of LA together until they reached the building.

Vax opened the main door and swept her through the lobby and into the elevator. His lips found hers almost before the doors closed and by the time the doors dinged open on the correct floor, Keyleth’s hands were pressed against the skin of his stomach under his shirt. With a heightening sense of urgency, they made for the apartment and Vax fumbled with his keys.

The scent of alcohol hit him as soon as he opened the door and his blood ran cold, his vision clarifying. Keyleth noticed his spine go rigid and she brushed a hand against it carefully.

“Vax?” she asked quietly.

Vax exhaled long and slow. He shoved into the apartment fully, ignoring Keyleth and stepped into the living room.

The first thing he saw was a half-empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. He didn’t own tequila and Vex didn’t have alcohol. He stepped into the room further and stepped around the couch.

Vex’ahlia was sprawled on the carpet, a bottle of whiskey clutched in her hand. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing when she went to see Percy earlier, but now her hair and makeup were messy and she looked thoroughly smashed.

Her gaze drifted drunkenly up to Vax and she smiled brilliantly. “Brother! Oh, I’m having such a great time!”

Pain shot through Vax so intensely that he nearly cried. “Vex,” he breathed, “what are you doing?”

“Oh darling, I’m just having a little fun!” She sat up and looked over her shoulder at him with what was probably supposed to be a coy expression.

Vax knelt behind her. “Vex,” he repeated, sadness shaking his voice, “what,” he emphasized, “are you doing?”

It took a moment, but her expression crumpled and she dropped the bottle she was holding. It thudded harmlessly against the carpet and Vex curled in on herself. Vax didn’t hesitate, he just pulled her into his arms.

“Vex’ahlia, what happened?”

She trembled against him, drunk and crying, for several long moments before she mustered the strength to speak to him.

“I was with Percy,” she began slowly, and Vax stiffened. Vex flinched and gripped his arm tightly. “No, he didn’t do anything wrong,” she corrected quickly and firmly. “He was being wonderful, but all I could hear was Saundor telling me that it was for the fame and that I didn’t deserve him and that I was going to break him just like he broke me.” Vex quivered. “I just wanted his voice to go away.”

Vax clutched Vex closer to his shoulder and pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. She cried into him and he held her.

A floorboard creaked and Vax’s heart sunk. He had forgotten about Keyleth. She stood in the entranceway to the living room, holding the wall as she observed the twins quietly. Their eyes locked and Keyleth’s lips twisted into a saddened smile.

“C’mon, Vex, let’s get you to bed.” Vax tugged his sister up before scooping her into his arms and walking out the other end of the living room cradling her like a child.

He carried her all the way to her room and placed her in her bed before helping her lie down and tucking her in. He kissed her forehead and tears pricked at his eyes. He leaned away.

“Go to sleep now, Stubby.”

She grabbed his wrist with unexpected coordination and her eyes looked exhausted and sad. “Vax, you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Never, Stubby,” he said quietly. He tugged his wrist away and shut the light off in her room. He shut the door behind himself and exhaled slowly.

He walked slowly back to the living room to find Keyleth and both bottles of liquor missing. He heard water running and followed the sound into the kitchen. Keyleth was in the middle of emptying the tequila bottle down the sink and the whiskey bottle sat empty beside it.

She turned when he approached and paused in her task. “I figured you probably didn’t want these around so I just thought I would-“

He cut her off by hugging her, burying his face in her neck. She froze, but curled her arms around him as soon as she regained her bearings.

Vax pulled back slightly, keeping Keyleth close. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Keyleth brushed a lock of dark hair away from his face as she searched his eyes. “Of course,” she said gently.

Vax exhaled and tightened his grip on her. “Vex has had an alcohol problem for a while and it got worse when we started gaining momentum. I just found out pretty recently that it’s her horrible ex’s fault because he was still messaging her, goading and encouraging her self hate. I blocked him for her and she had just gotten herself clean and dry.” He broke off and shook his head.

Keyleth’s fingers grazed along his jaw and he looked into her sympathetic, warm green eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her hand settled against his cheek. “I should go.”

Vax tightened his grip further on her, holding her waist in place. “Please, don’t,” he begged. “I don’t want to be alone after this.”

He saw Keyleth strain with the idea before she leaned him and kissed him. She turned away briefly and dumped the rest of the tequila down the drain. She laced her fingers through his.

“Come on,” she beckoned, “let’s just get some sleep.”

Vax woke up with his face pressed into Keyleth’s neck, her red hair half-smothering his face. She was still asleep, her chest rising beneath his arms with deep, even breaths. Vax carefully retracted his arms and rolled off of her, landed soundlessly on the floor of his room. He had shed his shirt last night, but otherwise was wearing a pair of loose pants. He grabbed a sweatshirt from his floor and pulled it on.

He paused at the door of his room, breathing out slowly to calm himself. He had no idea what kind of mess he was going to be dealing with, but Vex would need him. There was no doubt about that. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could be her only source of help to beat away her darkness. He stole one last look at Keyleth’s peaceful form and exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t sure he could deal with Vex’s darknesses and the versions of his own which would occasionally rear their heads when he least wanted them to. He took a last calming breath and slipped out of his room into the hallway.

At first, he thought he had woken up before Vex, but then he realized the kitchen light was on when he had definitely turned it off the night before. He steeled himself and headed towards it. He stepped into the kitchen and immediately saw Vex sitting, hunched, on a bar stool, an untouched glass of water in front of her.

“Vex’ahlia?” he called out quietly.

Her head snapped towards him and he was able to see her face. Her smudged make-up had been removed and her hair hung loose around her face, leaving her looking younger and more vulnerable than he had seen her in a long time. Her eyes were red and almost sunken looking. It was a desolate, broken look he had not seen since London and he hated it.

Without another word, Vax crossed the kitchen towards her and held out his arms. Vex slid off the stool and wound her arms around his midsection, pressing her face against his chest. She shook briefly and he ran a hand through her hair, trying to be soothing. After a long, quiet moment, she pulled away and looked into his face.

“Where’s Keyleth?” she asked quietly.

“Sleeping,” Vax replied quickly. “If you want to have this discussion without her here, we can go into the office and I’ll just leave her a note.”

She shook her head. Her expression was shameful. “No, I brought this upon myself. It’s okay.”

Vax brushed her hair back. “We should talk about it.”

Vex shrugged and retracted her arms, winding them around her stomach self-consciously. “Did I not say enough last night?”

Vax frowned. “Vex, how long have you been feeling like this?”

She pursed her lips. “The night of the album release, when we were performing, I could have sworn he was there. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since.”

The shattered, ghostly expression she had worn after their performance flashed in his mind and Vax cursed himself for not pursuing it earlier.

“Vex,” he murmured.

She glared at him. “You are not allowed to be mad at yourself. You’d finally sorted your shit out with Keyleth and whatever the hell was going on with you, so I didn’t put my issues on you too. I wanted you to treasure your happiness.” She glanced bitterly at the empty liquor bottles. “I never intended for this to happen again.”

“We’re partners, Vex,” he argued. “You shouldn’t have had to tell me anything.”

Vex let out a long sigh, her arms dropping to her sides. “Vax, I love you. I was trying to protect you from my demons because yours are enough.”

For a moment, Vax saw Vex holding him on the bathroom floor in a circle of broken glass in their London apartment. His hands and back had been bloody from where he had tried to cut away the Clasp’s symbol. He didn’t have a response for her immediately.

Vex took a deep breath in. “I think I need to see someone.”

Vax felt surprise write itself across his face. Vex, his strongly independent sister, was admitting that she needed help. She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it in hers. Vax squeezed back and looked back at her face.

“I think you need to as well,” she added quietly. “We had fucked up lives, Vax’ildan, and I think we need to do something about it.”

Vax leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when this happened. I think,” he paused, gathering what strength he had left, “you’re right.”

Vex closed her eyes and squeezed his hand again. Vax let himself do the same, breathing slowly for a moment. His sister–his twin and closest companion–was alright and she was dealing with things poorly and she needed help, but it didn’t take much for his brain to conjure the image of the raven wing tattoo that sprawled across his upper back over where the Clasp’s symbol had been. London was gone, behind them, and LA was in front of them, but some demons never left them.

“I want to tell Percy,” Vex said suddenly and Vax’s eyes shot open. She took a steadying breath and continued, “I ran out on him last night with almost no explanation and I love him. I want him to know.”

Vax nodded slowly. He recalled the way Keyleth’s fingers had wandered along his tattoo when they had first slept together. He hadn’t told her that part of his past, but every time he thought about it, he wanted to. “I understand,” he replied quietly, and he did.

Vex stepped back, dropping his hand and nodded slowly to herself. She looked again at the bottles by the sink. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said softly.

Vax smiled weakly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s worth repeating.”

Percy had shown up twenty minutes after Vex texted him, looking dishevelled and stressed. Vax had watched him gather Vex into his arms as the two of them sunk to sit in the middle of the floor in the kitchen. He slipped out then, headed back to his room.

As silently as he had left, he re-entered, but this time the movement caused Keyleth to stir and she mumbled something unintelligible before her eyes fluttered open. Vax paused awkwardly by the door, unsure what to do, as Keyleth awoke. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself up, blinking as she took in the room. Concern filled her face as she saw him standing at the door.

“Vax?”

He moved and sat on the edge of the bed. Keyleth slid over so they were side by side.

“Vax,” she repeated more insistently, reaching to brush some of his hair aside. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded slowly, letting the feeling of Keyleth’s fingers in his hair soothe him. “We talked. Percy’s here now. I think,” he breathed out slowly, “I think she’s going to get help.”

Keyleth let her head fall to his shoulder. “That’s good.”

Silence hung between them for a moment before Vax shifted so that he could look her in the eyes.

He let the courage that his sister displayed fill him as he braced himself. “Kiki, with everything I told you about London, it wasn’t everything. I need to tell you something else.”

He slipped his shirt off and twisted so she could see the tattoo. Her hand instantly wandered up to graze it gently, but she said nothing. He reached awkwardly to find her wrist and guide it towards the darkest part of the raven wings.

He told her everything and she cried and he cried and they held each other. The world didn’t end and their relationship wasn’t ruined and maybe, he realized, the weight the memories left on him felt a little bit lighter now.

Four days after everything exploded, Vex started seeing a therapist. They kept it quiet and she took an Uber both there and back so no one would catch sight of it and thankfully, social media was quiet about it.

To his surprise, the therapist had been recommended by Percy. According to Vex, when she had shared her demons, Percy had shared his own share of shadows from his time in England. Vax had later joked they should start the “England-Gave-Me-Life-Trauma” club. Vex had punched him, but she had cracked a smile.

Vax himself had looked into seeing someone and had made an appointment for the next week with someone that Keyleth had some vague community connection to.

Keyleth, for her part, had been supportive and accepting of everything Vax had told her and he was infinitely grateful for her support. It hadn’t changed anything between them and it had honestly helped Vax feel closer to Keyleth. And, surprisingly, he had even caught Vex and Keyleth hanging out with just the two of them and they’d even had a girls night with Pike recently.

Nothing changed within their friend group and nothing changed between Vex and Vax. Gilmore, Kima, and Allura had all been happy to hear about the twins both seeking professional opinions and Zahra and Cassandra had pledged to keep any such visits out of the media and didn’t question why they were necessary.

Things were getting better. Vex felt happier, Vax felt lighter, and despite the emotional connection they shared with their music, they were still writing and singing and the quality had only gone up if anything. The next step was to put together a list of songs they would perform when they opened for Scanlan in a few weeks.

It was the middle of the night when Vax heard an insistent knocking on his bedroom door. He rolled onto his side and glared at it. When it didn’t stop after a moment, he stood and made his way over to the door. He opened it and was met with Vex, also in pyjamas, but she was holding his guitar. She thrust it into his hand as soon as the door was fully open and Vax nearly dropped it.

“I have an idea,” she said simply before turning and walking back down the hallway towards the office.

Vax groaned and leaned his head against the doorway. “Vex’ahlia, what the fuck!” he yelled after her.

She just looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Come on, brother dearest, we have a song to write.”

Vax groaned again, but relented, following Vex into the office. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her lyric book open on the ground in front of her and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She looked up when he entered and she gestured for him to sit next to her. He sat down and looked at the book.

The title was blank but his initial skim over the lyrics she had written left him surprised. The words were open and affectionate and passionate and wholly different from a lot of the other things that Vex had written in the past.

“You’ve written things for Keyleth, haven’t you?” she asked suddenly.

Vax blinked. He had written guitar parts and little broken bits of lyrics for Keyleth, but he’d never sat down and written a whole song for her before. Performing covers for her was different too because he was using someone else’s lyrics.

“I haven’t,” he admitted.

Vex nodded. “Well this is for Percy already, so let’s make it for both of them. I want to perform it at Scanlan’s show.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You? Displaying public affection in front of fans?”

She elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Vax shifted his guitar into his lap and played a short progression he’d been working on for Keyleth while humming a tentative melody. Vex flipped her book back open and made a few notes, nodding as Vax played, and recording the chords as he swung between them.

There wasn’t a lot of sleep to be had that night, but at least they did end up finishing the song.

Vax had his guitar slung over his back as he wandered around backstage. Vex was talking with Percy, Grog, and Keyleth in the main part of the backstage area, but Vax had wandered off to look for Scanlan since he had a question for him. He had ended up towards the dressing rooms and he had heard a snippet of Scanlan’s voice.

He opened the nearest door and peeked inside. Instantly, Vax froze and didn’t dare fully enter the room because in the small room, clearly having not noticed him, were his good friends Scanlan Shorthalt and Pike Trickfoot. Pike’s arms were linked around Scanlan’s neck and their foreheads were pressed together in a very intimate moment that Vax did not feel like interrupting. He shut the door silently and backed away, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face.

Pike had said they were just friends, but just friends didn’t hold each other like that, especially in private.

Vax made his way back to the others and slung one arm over Keyleth’s shoulders and one over Vex’s as he arrived. Keyleth jolted, but Vex didn’t even react, just continuing with whatever she had been saying. The topic of discussion quickly faded and interest turned back to Vax’s quick reassurance.

“So where’s Scanlan?” Grog asked.

Vax smirked. “He’s otherwise occupied, so I decided to let him be.”

“Occupied?” Keyleth echoed, confused.

Vex’s brows shot up as she connected the dots. “So that’s a thing, alright.”

Percy glanced between the two twins, confused. “Care to fill the rest of the class in, dear?”

Vex laughed. “You see, darling, when two people love each other very much,” she began and Vax pinched her arm.

“Not that kind of occupied, but it was intimate enough that I didn’t want to scare the shit out of them,” he explained.

Keyleth grinned. “No way, really?”

Vax nodded. “Thank god for that by the way, it’s been needing to happen for a while.”

Grog frowned and crossed his massive arms. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

Percy finally seemed to connect the dots as his mouth formed a small ‘o’. He turned towards Grog. “Vax walked in on Pike and Scanlan having a moment.”

Grog shrugged. “That’s weird? I dunno they’ve been kissing and stuff for, like, a couple of months now.”

Vax nearly choked on air. “Wait they have?” Grog shrugged. “And you managed to keep that a secret from the rest of the group?”

Grog shifted. “I mean, I didn’t know it was a secret or anything. Thought you guys already knew.”

Vex chuckled. “No, big guy, we definitely did not, but now we do so all is good.”

For a moment the group was silent before Percy shook his head.

“Several months and Scanlan didn’t scream it from the rooftops. The world must really be ending.”

Vex and Vax were holding hands backstage. All they had to do was walk out from the wings and they’d be on stage in front of the largest live audience that they’d ever played in front of. They knew their songs by heart and it was a big enough festival they could trust nothing would go wrong with the music, but there was an irrational fear gripping Vax’s chest.

Vex seemed to be nervous too which was off-putting since she was the one who was always calm. Her hand was clammy where he clutched it in his own and her lips were pressed together like she was stressed which she quite visibly was.

“It’s going to be fine,” Vax said aloud, only partly for Vex’s benefit.

Vex inhaled sharply. “It’s just a song, there’s no way that they’re going to know we’re bearing our hearts completely for them and everything is going to be fine,” she said sternly.

Vax laughed and dropped Vex’s hand to pull her into a quick hug. “I love you, Stubby, and there’s no one I would have rather done this with.”

“I love you too, Vax,” she replied. Vex turned towards the stage and her confident smile finally slid into place. “Now, let’s go kick some ass out there.”

She strode forwards, into sight of the crowd and Vax heard the cheers. He quickly followed, the guitar strap anchored around his neck. The lights of the festival weren’t too overwhelming, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The crowd was cheering as he and Vex made their way to the front and centre of the stage. Their backing group from Whitestone records took their places in the background, leaving the duo of Vox Machina as the centre of attention.

Most of these people were here to watch Scanlan perform, but according to Zahra, there had been a great deal of social media buzz when it was announced that Vox Machina would be opening for them.

“Good afternoon, Los Angeles!” Vex called out, leaning towards the crowd, microphone in hand. Vax stepped to his place behind his mic and held a hand up in greeting. The crowd cheered loudly in response to Vex’s greeting and she had to wait a moment for them to settle down. “We’re Vox Machina and we’re here to play some music for you guys, so let’s not waste any time!”

Vax strummed the opening to the song and they led right into their first song of the set, a folk-arranged cover of Jason Mraz’s I’m Yours. As they played the song, Vax felt his gaze drawn to the roped-off VIP section at the front of the crowd where he saw all of his friends including Keyleth, in her radiant glory, singing along and cheering him on. The remaining bundle of nerves in his stomach loosened and disappeared and he threw himself into the music.

Several songs later, it was time for them to play their last song. Originally, they were going to play a variation of Thinking Out Loud, since that had been the first song on their channel. Instead, they were now preparing to play the song that he and Vex had written in the middle of the night for Percy and for Keyleth.

Vax played the one chord introduction and let Vex take the lead.

“I see stars in your eyes and taste the sun on your lips,” she sang smoothly. Vax moved chords seamlessly.

Vex started the next line and he came in too, adding a harmony to it. “I’ll wait for you, darling,”

Vex let her voice drop away as Vax took over. “The future is bright, oh with you I see the light.”

“I’ll wait for you, darling,”

Vax strummed into the chorus and they let the beautiful harmonies they had first been known for speak volumes as they sang together. “To the gods, I scream Hallelujah, for they have created something perfect and given me you. For the first time I know, darling,” the lyrics paused naturally and Vax let his eyes drift back to Keyleth.

She was watching with wide green eyes that were so full of passion and surprise and something else that he couldn’t quite put a name on. She was radiant and he loved her and he wrote a song for her and he was singing to the world, but it was all just for her.

“To the pain I have felt, for the struggles I grew through, I say thank you. Oh darling, for the first time I know, love is true. And oh god do I know, I’ll wait for you.”

The song continued with a series of beautifully woven lyrical lines and guitar fills that had taken an entire night to craft, but it was worth it. All of Vex’s little hints to hers and Percy’s relationship poked like nails, while Vax’s gently adoration of Keyleth flowed through the melody, but of all the songs they had written together, it was by far Vax’s favourite and the venue was perfect.

The song came to a close with one final, beautiful harmony that they let drift into nothing. The crowd roared and Vex threw her arms around Vax, hugged him tightly. He hugged her back just as fiercely before they took their bows and headed offstage, letting the crew move into setting up for Scanlan, the main attraction.

When they descended back behind the stage, all of their friends were waiting. Pike and Grog were both grinning like crazy and Percy pulled Vex into a deep kiss as soon as they were backstage. Grog whistled and Pike laughed loudly. Vax looked past them all to Keyleth.

She shifted her weight and looked at him. He stepped up to her side. All the emotion he had bared on the stage seemed to catch up to him as he felt suddenly nervous.

“Kiki?” he asked carefully.

She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it for a moment before turning the screen towards him. Vax blinked in surprise as he realized she was showing him a Tweet.

Angela @soundmachinequeen • 5 min ago

WOW can we just say that Vox Machina are absolutely the BEST at love songs… like if someone wrote that for me I would probably just die instantly, but in a GOOD WAY cuz WOW #VoxMachinaLive #TheatreInThePark @vexmachina @vaxmachina

Vax blinked. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

Keyleth shoved her phone back into her purse and took a deep breath. “Did you write that for me?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “Vex did it for Percy and I did it for you.”

Keyleth leaned forwards and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him firmly. She pulled back after a moment. “It was beautiful, thank you, Vax.”

He kissed her again. “It was nothing, compared to you.”

“I love you,” she said suddenly.

Vax blinked in surprise. He leaned back a little and noticed that their friends had all filed away, giving them a semblance of privacy in a bustling backstage area. “Kiki, you don’t have to,” he started, but she held up a hand.

“I have for some time, I was just scared. I couldn’t lose you and I couldn’t be the one to mess this up, but god, Vax, I love you. I understand what you meant before because I love you so much that it hurts,” she said. The words rushed out of her like a dam had broken and it ignited something in Vax.

He stepped forward again and pulled Keyleth’s face to his. He kissed her firmly for a considerable time before he finally broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers and just smiled. Her hand slid to land over top of his racing heart and her fingers tapped a gentle pattern against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” she replied.

The weight pressing against his stomach lifted and he felt free.

A note from me:

This story has been an absolute journey. It began way back in April as a couple of loose AU notes in my phone for a Vaxleth/Perc’ahlia one-shot. Finally, in the summer, I decided to just write the one-shot. One hundred words turned into a thousand and a thousand turned into ten thousand much more quickly than I had expected.

From my initial notes, I had written ten thousand words and created what felt like a universe that was alive. And ten thousand words wasn’t going to do it justice, so I went back to the drawing board and revamped it, creating the multi-chaptered structure that the fic would come to be.

At first, I was sure it would be two parts. Halfway through the second part, it was going to be three parts for sure. But, when I finished the second part, I had enough notes for two more chapters. Four was good, it was perfect. And then I only got through half my notes for the fourth part and I didn’t want to rush the ending. So five it was.

And five it stayed.

The update gap between part four and five can be attributed to two things: me finally buying a Switch, and me moving back across the country for school and needing to readjust. Still, I cranked this part out and I’m happy. The story feels as complete as it should.

This fic has been happy and fluffy and deliriously fun while also darker and has touched on themes I have personally been well acquainted with. Particularly, in this part, I laid out Vax’s plot with the Clasp and only mentioned Percy’s backstory because I felt that’s how they best fit in this fic.

So I hope I managed to tug on your heartstrings (pun INTENDED) with this story and I hope you’ll keep an eye out for the in-universe (DEFINITELY ONESHOT THIS TIME I PROMISE) companion that puts our two favourite little people together + more Grog.

Thanks for all the support and love, Nicole

PS - this part was only supposed to be like 3K words, but we’ve seen how that has played out in the past

1 note · View note

whistlekick · 6 years ago

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Sifu Glen Doyle is a martial arts practitioner and instructor. He is a former Kung Fu champion and practices Irish Martial Arts.

There’s a sense of comfort that you get right away when you cross over certain martial arts…

Sifu Glen Doyle – Episode 360

Learning how to fight is sometimes instilled into us on a very early age. Sifu Glen Doyle learned boxing as soon as he began speaking because of his father. Later on, he would turn into martial arts such as Kung Fu and stick fighting. What makes Sifu Doyle special is that he practices Irish Martial Arts traditions that are part of his roots. Sifu Glen Doyle has a lot to tell so, listen to find out more!

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Show Transcript

You can read the transcript below or download here.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Hello and welcome to this show. This is whistlekick Martial Arts Radio episode 360. Today, I’m joined by Sifu Glen Doyle. My name is Jeremy. I’m the founder at whistlekick. I’m your host on the show. And martial arts is a huge part of my life. So huge that it became my career. You can check out all the things that we work on at whistlekick. Many of those things, I am personally involved in over at whistlekick.com. Don’t forget. If you buy something, use the code PODCAST15. Save this 15%. It’s a thank you from us to you and honestly, lets us know that this podcast is worth doing. Because let’s face it. This is a business and we’ve got to make some money somewhere because I need to it. Not a lot but I do need to eat something.

Here we are, 360 episodes in and we’re still finding new martial arts to talk about. Did you know that there were Irish martial arts traditions? Well, today’s guest not only has family lineage through Irish martial arts but also something that most of us would consider more contemporary, more conventional in that Kung Fu. So, we not only get to talk about each of those arts but the contrasts, the similarities between the two, and the wonderful story that unfolds as Sifu Doyle talks about his life and his navigation through both of those arts and what it meant to him and his family. So, hold on, listen, and learn something. Sifu Doyle, welcome to whistlekick Martial Arts Radio.

Glen Doyle:

Thank you very much. Happy to be here.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I’m happy to have you here. Now, listeners, this was one we were chatting just before we started the episode that I think we were both afraid that this might be the episode that didn’t happen. There were a number of power outages on both ends. It was crazy. I’ve had issues with losing power here. I’ve has issues with guests losing power there. I don’t think we’ve ever had an episode scheduled for a time where both sides lost power.

Glen Doyle:

I like to respond like an echo.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Awesome. But we’re here now and I appreciate your flexibility in rescheduling. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you.

Glen Doyle:

My pleasure, my pleasure.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Great. Well, let’s start the way we start a martial arts show. We need some background. We need some basics. We need to learn how to make a fist and punch as it were with who you are. So, how did you find martial arts?

Glen Doyle:

Well, I mean, I was more or less, not to sound melodramatic, but I was kind of born into it. My dad was a boxer. And he boxed for a number of years. Mostly when he was in the Canadian Armed Forces but he was always boxing. And so, he started me whether I wanted to or not. In 1969, when I was 4 years old, he put on the boxing gloves and I got my first lesson. And it went on till however long dad was alive. He started me boxing and then in 1972, he started me in stick fighting. And then I wanted to branch out and learn other styles and stuff. So, in and around 1981, I branched out and joined a Chinese Kung Fu club in Toronto. And I stayed with that club until my Sifu, Sifu Lore King Hong, passed away in 2008. So basically, from 1969 to present has been my martial arts path. But I got basically involved in it with my dad started punching at me and didn’t give me a choice but to punch back, so.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Wow. All right. So, you’ve got a couple of different things going on, a few different martial arts.

Glen Doyle:

Uh-hum.

Jeremy Lesniak:

And one of the things that I find personally fascinating is how people start to relate those back to each other.

Glen Doyle:

Right.

Jeremy Lesniak:

So, what does that look like for you?

Glen Doyle:

Well, I mean, you could… If I go into boxing and if comparing boxing in Gung Fu, a punch is a punch. No matter how you do it, it’s just going to be a different way of explaining with or a different way of executing it. But the end result is the same – you’re trying to hit something. The comparisons that I always was a little more interested in was the stick fighting style that my dad taught me was from our family. It’s an Irish stick fighting style. And when I branched out and explored the other martial arts, be into Gung Fu and then I dabbled in some Filipino stick fighting, I just thought it was really interesting the geographically, the two countries – Ireland and Philippines – are so far apart. But when you put a stick in a hand, there’s going to be some principles that are going to be very similar and some are going to be completely different. So, I was always amazed at the way the footwork might be explained differently but the end result’s the same. And sometimes, the footwork looks almost the same. So, it reiterates and it just emphasizes to me that if you’ve got 2 legs and 2 arms or you’re basically a human being, you’re only going to move a certain way so many times or a certain way so many different times and things are going to crossover. So, as a martial artist, when I branched out into other arts that weren’t culturally the same as mine, there was a nice kind of camaraderie built up in my mind right away. Because it was like, wow, this isn’t so different. I’m not in such a foreign land after all. This is great. And there’s a sense of comfort that you get right away when you crossover certain martial arts. When you find the similarities, it’s like you’re home but you’re not. You’re on the road but your home is… It’s like when you go travelling, you take a big suit case and you want to have a lot of your stuff around you even though you’re in a bizarre place or a different place because you have that bit of that comfort, because you’ve got some items from your home that make you feel a little more comfortable. And I think, when you crossover two different martial arts together, that familiarity is what makes you feel comfortable and allows you to really open your learning curve and really kind of accept the techniques more readily, more instinctively rather than just kind of forcing a square peg into a round hole. If that makes any sense.

Jeremy Lesniak:

It certainly does. I’ve spent a bit of time doing some Filipino stick work and I would imagine that 90% of the folks listening who have engaged in stick work have done it through some kind of Filipino Eskrima or Arnis, you know, Southeast Asian tradition.

Glen Doyle:

Uh-hum.

Jeremy Lesniak:

You said that you had done some sort. Are you able to relate to us the… I expect a lot of similarities but where are the differences?

Glen Doyle:

Well, I mean, the Filipino style that I dabbled in – when I say dabbled, please understand, I’m not professing that I studied it a long time or I’m really super-efficient

Jeremy Lesniak:

Sure, sure.

Glen Doyle:

But I dabbled in it and the fact that I did often on for a number of years because one of the instructors at the Kung Fu club that I was training was from Cebu City in the Philippines.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Uh-hum.

Glen Doyle:

And anytime he was teaching a class, if I had the time to do it, I would jump in and play around with it. It was called Arnis. It was… That’s crazy. Just falling out of my head now.

Jeremy Lesniak:

That’s okay.

Glen Doyle:

Lapunti Arnis De Abanico, there you go. Sorry. And Abanico, I believe, is fan style if I’m not mistaken. And it’s a single-hand stick fighting style. Which is the biggest difference between what I was taught with from dad which was two-handed. And the stick is a lot longer in the Irish system, a little heavier because the blackthorn is a heavier wood. Where the Filipino system is using the rattan. A lot of whirling strikes in the Filipino systems are very fast, explosive. And I found that I like the way that the multiple quick hits, the rapid hits in the Filipino system is something I really love. They were so different from the Irish stuff. So, I was like a kid in the candy store when I first played around with it, so.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Nice. It almost… You know, I have some Irish roots. In fact, my father lives to the south side of Cork. I’ve used some blackthorn sticks. They’re durable, they’re heavy. So, is the stick fighting tradition that you come from, that you’re passing on, is there some synergy there with bladed weapons?

Glen Doyle:

No.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay.

Glen Doyle:

The only connection to bladed weapons is… Basically, the Irish stick fighting came to be simply because of penal laws and whatnot. Irish citizens especially the peasants weren’t allowed access to weapons. A lot of Irish men fought in foreign armies in the 1700s or 1800s. And they learned fencing, they learned sword playing with foreign armies. So, when they came back, that’s all they had to drop on. But because they didn’t have access to bladed weapons, they used stick. And they had to adapt the slashing and stabbing motions for more thumping and striking. So, the only kind of influence in any kind of bladed weapon would be the way the system was approached. Because all, at one point, all Irish stick fighting systems for one-handed based on sword fight but with a stick in your hand. And then somewhere in my family line, my great great great great great uncle, I think it go back five or six generations, he was a pugilist and he decided to put two hands on stick. And the stick was then parallel to the ground, horizontal. And it changed the way we approach the stick fighting. So, any kind of access or comparison to bladed weapons kind of really disappeared when that happened. And now, the pugilist of the boxing influence kind of took over. It became a much more close quarter kind of thing. We had to get in close. Which when you have a stick, you want to keep the opponent on the end of your stick. So, you want to have them on that last six or eight inches for maximum velocity. And then here’s something my dad taught me where it’s like close in, close in. But I have this long stick why do I have to close in? But that would probably be the only… If I could really say any kind of bladed. But there’s no other weapons in the system I learned from my dad. It’s just the blackthorn. That’s it. No knives, no nothing else. So. Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay. Interesting. I’m going to have to find some video. Do you have a video? Is there a video of this thing?

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. I have a bunch of stuff up on YouTube.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay, cool.

Glen Doyle:

Just the live stuff; me teaching some seminars. It’s not instructional.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay.

Glen Doyle:

It’s just in a collage fed to some music. I had a website for a while when… I had to get permission from my dad to teach it outside the family. And that was the whole story itself. And I had website up. It just had pictures on it. And I got a lot of emails and a lot of communicational people. You can’t tell much from a picture. You can only tell so much. And a lot of the feedback, I’m not going to go into it, was oh my god, this to this and I would do this and it was all this kind of stuff. And I just kind of let it roll off my back for a couple of years. And then I said, you know what? Maybe I’ll just put something I knew just so people can see the motion and the movement. And maybe that will help them understand the pictures they’re seeing. So, I put up a couple of videos. And it was the exact opposite type of feedback. I’ve got people like oh, that’s how it works. And it was definitely the right thing to do. Because you kind of got to see the style to understand it. And then now, I find that people are really… It really launches more questions but they’re more listening with excitement rather than derision.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Uh-hum.

Glen Doyle:

And it was all because I put a few videos up. So, I did that just so people can get a sense of how it looked and how it moved. And I find a lot of Filipino stick fighters actually are the most interested. They love watching it and they make their observations and similarities pop up and the differences. It’s usually a really nice interaction when I talk Filipino stick fighters. They usually have really interesting questions about certain techniques and the style, and how this came to be and how that can be. And then, of course, they’ll bring up wow, it’s very similar to what we do. And then it’s kind of like 2 kids talking over a couple of toys that they have that are very similar, right? So.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

And those are some of my favorite conversations with martial artists. And I think those conversations are more enlightening, more productive, more enjoyable when you start from a place of similarity.

Glen Doyle:

Of course. Yes.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Rather than a place of difference. And I mean, I can… I’m trying to think of something that I haven’t done martial arts-wise. Kung Fu might be the furthest from what I’ve done as a complete style. But I can sit down and I can talk with a Kung Fu practitioner and we can start from what do we have in common? We can have a lot of fun. We can maybe even share, spar, and have a good time. Or we can start from differences which tend to be philosophical and that doesn’t help anybody.

Glen Doyle:

No. Usually… Well, it sets the tone, right? Because I think when you come from a place of similarity, then the camaraderie is built right in. If you come from a sense of difference, there’s always this little underlying tone of are you saying your style is better?

Jeremy Lesniak:

Right.

Glen Doyle:

Because it’s so different? I mean, I’ve studied this. I know my style really well. Why are you saying yours is better? And it’s like, you’re not saying that but if you’re coming at them from the differences, people tend to lean towards that. It seems to be kind of human nature. Well, what’s wrong with my style? What do you mean your style’s different? What do are you saying? When you come at the other person from the point of wow, and we do this. It’s very similar to what you do. All of a sudden, they listen with their ears wide open rather than looking for reasons to be offended, right? That’s been kind of my take on it. And when I teach seminars, I always have my opening speech and I always say, I don’t denigrate or take away from any other style. And I always say that I’m saying that we do it this way. I’m not saying it’s better or worse than what you do. I’m just saying you’re different. And that seems to really actually set the tone for the seminar and I knock on wood. I haven’t had any issues at this point, so.

Jeremy Lesniak:

That’s great.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Good. We’ll make sure to link the YouTube channel over on the show notes for this. And for folks that might be new, if you came in, if this is your first episode, we put the show notes at whistlekickmartialartsradio.com. Now you, a few minutes ago, mentioned a conversation that you had to have with your father to get permission to teach this stick fighting style outside of the family. Would you be willing to share that?

Glen Doyle:

Sure, yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

What that was about?

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. Well, I mean, this system was only passed on through family. So, you had to have the surname Doyle to learn it. And they were very strict about that. In Irish traditions, oral tradition is very, very predominant in Irish culture. A lot of times it’s because the occupying forces wanted to kind of diffuse the culture, they wanted to stop the language. Anything to do with individuality or priding your country or where you’re from, they want to kind of take that away. You know what I mean? And so to preserve certain cultural aspects of the country, a lot of things were taught in secret or behind closed doors or secret meetings and whatnot. And that include language and music and whatnot. So, the stick fighting was no different and it was passed on father to son, through family. And if you didn’t have the last name Doyle, you didn’t learn it. And because the stick fighting stuff could differentiate between families. It could differentiate between counties or towns. So, you could have a town that have one stick fighting style. You could have a county that didn’t have the factions from like Tipperary and from Wicklow and Wexford and whatnot. You had the Yellow Bellies, you had the 18:01 There’s a bunch of names that you could… So, they would have a similar style. But anyway, so, ours was based on family name and it was passed on. My dad was very strict about it. When he taught it to me, we spend most of our weekends. He had a full-time job as an iron worker. So, he didn’t have a lot of time during the week. But on the weekends, we’d be doing the boxing and the sticks. And he would always reiterate, this is ours and keep to yourself kind of thing. And eventually, after being in the Kung Fu club for a number of time, my Chinese Kung Fu instructor, Sifu Lore, he was so open because he wanted to share his culture with everyone. And he was amazing that way. And it really rubbed off on me. So, I started saying to my dad, this is such a cool little system and I’m your only son and you’re teaching it to me. But if I walk down the street tomorrow and get hit by a car and get killed, it’s done. It’s gone. And that really bothered me. So, I started asking my dad in the early ’90s. Can I start showing some guys down at the club just some stuff? And he was adamant; no. And my dad… To give you a sense of my dad, to see and get his kind of mindset, the way he was, just a little capsule thing of his personality, he forged my granddad’s signature to join the Canadian military when he was 16. I lied about his age. And he spent his 17th and 18th birthdays on the frontlines in Korea.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Wow.

Glen Doyle:

And he summed up his personality with this – I’m going to keep it clean for the listeners…

Jeremy Lesniak:

For sure.

Glen Doyle:

And if it’s offensive to some people, I do apologize. But it was what he said to me. Because he was really a hard man and I always used to say to him, you’re really hard to people. You speak your mind so you come off rough. And he said, you have to understand me because I killed my first man before I ever slept with my first woman. And that kind of summed up my dad for me. And I mean, there’s no part of my… And you can edit that out, too, if it’s not appropriate. I have no…

Jeremy Lesniak:

No, absolutely not. I think that’s pretty important.

Glen Doyle:

It really set his tone for me. Because I can’t even wrap my head around that. No matter much I tried. That sense of what he must have went through at 16, 17, and 18 years of age. I always gave him a wide berth after that. I always try to step back and understand because he was very straight-edge. He was very straightforward and he said what he said. If you didn’t like it, he really didn’t care. So, going back to saying dad, I really want to kind of share it with some other guys at the club, just a few guys at the club, my closest friends. No. He was adamant. And then in late 1997 or early 1998, he got diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer. And he was only given a couple of months. And we spent all the time together. I was very, very fortunate that I got to do everything I needed to do for closure. And the fact that I got to have my last talk with him, I got to hold his hand, I was there when he took his last breath. I mean, the relationship that I had with my dad, if I wasn’t there, it probably would have driven me insane that I didn’t get the goodbye. So, I was very fortunate that I was allowed to share those times. And we talked about a lot of things. And the one thing I brought up again was I really wanted to teach this outside the family. I don’t have any children of my own. So, again, the style is endangered of just becoming extinct if I pass on and don’t teach anyone. And it took a lot of talking but finally, near our last talk, before he went onto morphine and couldn’t talk anymore because he’s in so much pain, he finally gave me permission. And if he had not, you and I would be having a completely different conversation right now and we’d just be talking about Kung Fu. So, yeah. I was very grateful that he eventually relented. Now, do I think he was happy about it? I couldn’t really say. But all I know is he did give permission. And whether it was his last act of love or not, I don’t know. But at the end of the day, he gave me his permission to teach it outside the family. And after, we had his service and I had his ashes and I spread his ashes over our land. We’re from Newfoundland originally. And I started to slowly get the style out there. I mean, I had an interview with Inside Kung Fu and I think it was 1995. And I got into the moment. The new journalist was really, really good. He really played me really well, for lack of a better term. And I blurted out the Irish stick fighting. And then I immediately stopped talking about it. But he didn’t mention it in the article. And the bullyrag that I got from my dad about that, let me tell you, that went on for a couple of years. So, I learned my lesson. But yeah. He basically gave me permission just before he passed away. So, there’s a sentimentality there when I teach as well. It’s like he’s in the room with me, which I love. And it helps me cope. I mean, he’s been gone since ’98. But it just doesn’t seem like… It seems like yesterday to me. I still think about him all the time. And the sticks is a way for me to kind of revisit our time together and stuff. So, there’s a real emotional sentimentality to me teaching it.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Now, when… Those of us that came up in… I guess I think of it as Asian traditions. When I think of the 24:25 Kung Fu style or Karate style, quite often, there’s a family dynamic.

Glen Doyle:

Uh-hum.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Some kind of splinter there. But I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with someone who came from that close-guarded family tradition of a martial arts. So, forgive me as I’m asking you some of these questions that I’ve always wondered knowing that you don’t speak for everyone. But you’re the best I have.

Glen Doyle:

Okay. No problem.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Why? Why was your father so resistant to people learning this family style?

Glen Doyle:

I think it was just the cultural way. It was just cultural and the way he was raised. Again, with it being guarded and not wanting to basically… Like self-preservation, really. I mean, you always want that. If everybody knows your style, then the percentages of being able to counter you go up.

Jeremy Lesniak:

True.

Glen Doyle:

And every system that you ever come across is one-handed. And now suddenly, you come up against this guy and all of a sudden, he starts one-handed and drops his stick into his other hand. And he comes at you from a pugilistic horizontal base stick pattern. It’s going to throw you. And I think, that element of surprise ups the success factor. So, I think it was a combination of it was tradition – it was the way he was taught. And my granddad was probably exactly my dad, a no nonsense Irish man. Do what I say and don’t question me. And I think that coupled with the fact that technically, you’d like to have a surprise or two in your back pocket. I think the combination of those two things in the formula is probably why he was still adamant. Because when I would explain to my dad how if Sifu Lore said, oh I only teach Chinese, I wouldn’t have been learning this amazing stuff that he was teaching me. I could see my dad understanding what I was saying. But the stubbornness of no, we don’t share it because of whatever reason. I could see there was a wall up for the longest time. And I’d be lying to you if I said I understood it. But it’s just I think it was, for lack of a better term, the programming. It was just the way he was raised. And he kept it without being… What’s the word? Not pure but he just didn’t want… He wanted it untainted. And when you get a style and you put it out into the public domain, it gets changed right away. People are going to adapt it to what they think the movement should be or the way they would do it or strategically how they think it works for them. And all of a sudden, the style ceases to become that movement or that way of executing a technique that’s been passed on for generation to generation. And it means he was big on not changing the techniques. Because, like my dad said, the system was… And I think he was talking about all fighting systems. But when he’s pertaining to our sticks, as he said, he was born on a battlefield. And through evolution and through faction fights, techniques that didn’t work, you got your head bashed in. You knew if they didn’t work, they didn’t get passed on. And he said, nowadays, everybody likes to change everything. But most of the people changing the styles aren’t haven’t fought to save their lives. It’s theory or they got padded equipment on. So, they’re not getting punished for their mistakes or it’s a game of tag. And again, I’m not coming down on anybody who spars or anything like that. It’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying what he said to me. And he said, why would you change something that has been proven? But because here in modern day society, now it’s like well, this is faster or flashier and whatnot. But it’s just a theory. I think, for of the thing he was worried at, if I put it out there into the general populace, it was going to get changed a lot. But it would still have our name on it. And he said, if someone changes it and the technique doesn’t work, it still got our name on it. And they go out and try to use the technique and they get their head bashed in, well our name takes the hit. So, that was kind of his kind of approach. And I think that’s one of the reasons he was really adamant aside from the fact that it was tradition that it was just taught to Doyles. And I think he wanted something to pass onto his son that was just for me, I guess. There could have been a father-son dynamic there that I wasn’t picking up on. Because I was all about this. I loved it so much, I just wanted to share it with everyone. A little bit of family pride, and pride is a double edged-sword.

Jeremy Lesniak:

It certainly is.

Glen Doyle:

And so I think that maybe he was trying to dissuade me from that. And I’ve been teaching it outside the family now since just after he passed away. So, it’s been about 20 years and all the stuff he said has happened. It’s been changed, it’s been this, it’s been that. So, he wasn’t wrong. I’ve had to lock away and discontinue associations with a lot of people because of what happened. That dad said would, sadly. So, I have to kind of give my hat to him because he wasn’t wrong. But on the other side of the coin is, I’ve met some amazing people that passed it on and they’re amazing. So, on the other side of the coin, I was right.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Right. Can you talk a little bit more about the stuff he was right about? I’m not asking you to name names or identify anything so clearly that people could infer names.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. No, no. I wouldn’t do that anyway. But it just… basically, what would happen is a lot of people would come under the guise of oh, I want to learn it the way you learned it. I wanted to stay traditional and I want to learn and then pass it on and whatnot. And really, all what they wanted to do was they wanted to up the 31:16 of their school by saying they offer Irish stick fighting. So, it was more of a business thing. And what they would do is, they would just take certain elements that they like from the system. And they would incorporate it to what they already taught. So, if I did a numbered system… So, let’s say I taught a sequence or there’s a technique that, let’s say, has five movements in a sequence – I’ll try to be really kind of basic here – and we go move it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And they take the movement. Well, movement 1 and 2 would be from the Doyle system and then movement 3, 4 and 5 would be from where that they learn. So, it would become a hybrid and it would get infused. And then what happens is it started to… Then the people, they taught would then change it a little bit when they start it. So, two or three lessons down the road, it didn’t even look anything like what I have taught them. Yet it still had our family name on it.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Right.

Glen Doyle:

And you’ll see it. If you search Doyle stick fighting, you’ll find a number of videos on YouTube aside from mine and you’ll see. If you have martial arts eyes, you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about. And I don’t deny anybody that I trained. If someone wrote to me and said, blah, blah, blah, says this and I will not lie. I’ll say yup, he learned under me. But I will also say, but he has changed it a little bit. So, the stuff he’s teaching is influenced or has a flavor of what I taught. But it’s more of what they’ve done to hybridize it. So, I’m very honest but I don’t deny anybody I’ve ever worked with. Even if I no longer teach them, I will still say yup, they learned under me. They came to a seminar. I’m not going to cut off my connection to them that way because I don’t think that’s fair. They did put in the time. I just want to try to keep the style out there the way it was taught to me. So, if somebody comes to me or goes to somebody and wants to learn what was taught back in Ireland, hopefully, they can find somebody who does that. Not somebody’s version of a version of version 33:37

Jeremy Lesniak:

Makes complete sense.

Glen Doyle:

Because some people want that. They want that authentic style. Some people really do. And others are fine with learning the hybrid stuff. They’re fine with it and that’s all fair to them. I have no problem with that. But when your name’s attached to it, when your family… And again, because of the sentimentality and emotional connection to my dad, I won’t lie. There’s a little chip on my shoulder about it. Some days it bothers more than others. But I’ve learned to live with it now. And now, when I teach, I’m very particular hen I teach one-on-one in person. I just started doing an online course on video. I’m going to test that out and see how that plays out. But I don’t want to… Because of a couple of bad experiences, I don’t want to just say I’m not teaching anyone. Because that defeats the purpose as well. I don’t think that’s fair to people who want to learn it. So, I’m trying to find that. It’s like you’re trying to walk that tightrope, right? And you’re going to have to make some concessions which I learned that I had to. And at the same time, every once in a while you’re going to find that one or two or three or four people that are just going to take it the way it was given to you and they’re going to treat it that way. And they’re going to make sure it stays authentic and how it was passed in. And those are the victories that I take. And then all the other ones, I’ve got to spend some time with different people and different personalities and I choose to take the positive away rather than the negative. Because if I keep the negative, man, I’ll just be the grumpiest person in the world. And I don’t want that. So.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I get it. I get it. Now, I can completely see what you’re talking about. It makes a lot of sense.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. I mean…

Jeremy Lesniak:

The idea that it’s not just a martial art. It’s your lineage. It’s your tie to your father and so many things. And I don’t think anyone else is going to fully embrace that even if they intellectually understand it.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. It’s a… It’s tough to put into words. And when it first started to get changed and whatnot, I was livid. And I have the Irish temper like everybody else in the family. My initial reactions were very cutting off the nose to spite my face kind of thing. And then I learned that that’s not going to do anything and I have to kind of adapt and take more of a philosophical approach to it. Just see where they were coming from and walk a mile on their shoes just to kind of wrap my head around it. And then it kind of eased the blow a little bit. If that makes any sense.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Sure does.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Now, I’m sure that you almost have walls up to make sure that the Kung Fu is not influencing the stick fighting. But I’m guessing that you don’t have the same rule go in the other way. So, how does the stick fighting influence your Kung Fu?

Glen Doyle:

Again, going back to the beginning when we started talking, the thing about the stick and the Kung Fu, it was all about the similarities. But also, the way I teach the sticks, my dad was very… He taught what he felt like that day. He had a system. He had an agenda of how to teach it but it wasn’t so evident. Like I think he would get me to go over some stuff that he taught me the week before and they based on what I did incorrectly or what I did correctly, that would shape what we work on that day. When I started to teach it, I found that the way I taught it was very much influenced by the way I learned Kung Fu. Meaning, you learn your stances. You learn your foundations, boom, boom, boom, boom. When my dad taught me, I got stances and whatnot. But he got me into the stick punches, then he got me into what the hand was doing. And I know I’m using a lot of terms that people are kind of not going to understand because they don’t 38:05 the style. But he got me chasing the stick and crashing the gates and all these things. But I think, if he had more of a system in place, I probably would have learned it quicker because it took a while. Because, I mean, I was only 7 years old when I started, right? But I find that the Kung Ku influenced me in the way I taught the stick. Because I, for a lack of a better word, I systematized it in the fact that I did stances fist, all footwork, footwork, footwork. Because dad was really big on footwork. But I think, even though he was big on footwork, he kept throwing other things at me just to kind of keep the ball rolling. In his mind, I was learning at a pace that he was happy with. Whereas when I teach, if you don’t get your stances and you footwork, you’re not learning anything else. You’re going to be holding the stick forever doing nothing with it because it’s all going to be from the waist down. And that’s very Kung Fu – stances, stances, stances. Strong horse, strong punch – that’s it. That’s the two things you need before you do anything else. And I got to that point when I taught. The similarities between the footwork was very interesting because we have a thing in our style… Because it comes from fencing footwork initially. And then with the boxing influence, the heels are a little different and we step down heel-toe and then we really calmly drag the back leg when we were dancing. And I found… It’s so amazing because in the Hung Gar style of Gung Fu that I learned, it’s almost exactly the same. When you step from a cat stance, you step down heel-toe and then you pop back into your horse stance. And if I had to explain, the stepping in the Irish stick fighting and the stepping in Kung Fu, if I use heel-toe-drag, it works the exact same for both styles. So, the influence, if you want to use that term, was all about the similarities. The Kung Fu wouldn’t give influence anything technically in sticks. Because I wanted to make sure that the way it was passed onto me, I pass on to other people. So, I very evident about that. But I did use the way of explaining Kung Fu, the way that Kung Fu was taught to me, I did let that influence the way I explain the sticks. So, I hope I’m makings sense the way I put that out for you there. I have a tendency to be quite verbose and quite 40:50 And then at the end of the five minutes, people go, I didn’t understand a damn thing you just said. So.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Well, as you were talking, I’m doing it.

Glen Doyle:

Okay.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I’m taking those steps. And yeah, I can certainly see the similarities there. My experience with two-handed weapons is limited to Japanese style sword and very little. But the footwork there from what I was taught sounds very similar to what you’re describing, so.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Makes all kind of sense.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. But I’ll do, Jeremy, when we get off, I will send you some video links of me actually teaching.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Oh, perfect.

Glen Doyle:

Just for you. I’ll just send it for you.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Sure. I would watch them

Glen Doyle:

In that way, you can see what we’re talking about. I don’t think it’s going to… I think you’re getting what I’m saying but I think if you see the way I teach it, you’ll go oh, okay. So, I’ll do that for you. I know right now, the listeners are like what about us? But you get special treatment, so.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Well, I appreciate that. I’ve been doing all the work here, so.

Glen Doyle:

There you go.

Jeremy Lesniak:

You and I are doing the work. Listeners, they just get to enjoy all of this. Cool. All right. Well, when you look at this – how do I want to call it – this hybridized martial arts mindset that has become you and these various influences that you have.

Glen Doyle:

Yup.

Jeremy Lesniak:

It’s pretty clear how important your father was. I mean, he started you and gave you this foundation and you’ve added to it and expanded it. But what would you want to add on? If there was someone that you could train with that you haven’t, who would that be?

Glen Doyle:

You mean living or dead? Or just living?

Jeremy Lesniak:

Living or dead. Anywhere in the world, anywhere in time.

Glen Doyle:

My dad was very much influenced by Jack Dempsey.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay.

Glen Doyle:

So, I would say probably Jack Dempsey for a couple of reasons. One, because of my dad’s movement was very much like Jack Dempsey. Because he was a big Jack Dempsey fan and also because of the boxing. But also, Jack Dempsey was quite an interesting person because… I don’t know if a lot of people know this but I believe he was in the coast guard, if I’m not mistaken. Now, I could be mistaken about that. And if I am, I apologize. But I know he was in service in some point and I think it was the coast guard. But he taught a lot of self-defense stuff. It wasn’t just boxing. It was knees and elbows and whatnot. So, he was a very, very well-rounded. And I think he would just be an amazing person to train with. Simply because he’s almost what I would say a similar thing to what I do is that he’s got the boxing but then on the other side of the coin, he had the other fighting techniques that were, if you want to call them, street or a little more lower body and upper body. Because with the knees and strikes and the elbows and whatnot. So, I think he would be an amazing person to train with. I would love to talk to him about his mindset. Because he had that ever forward kind of attack. And when my dad used to teach the sticks, he’s always going to say that phrase – ever forward, ever forward. So, just on that alone, I think that would be my choice. I would love to go train with him and just to pick his brain and just to see how he saw the martial world, and see how he would approach it. So, that would be my answer.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Nice. I’m sure from your time training and travelling, teaching – whether it’s your own students or seminars – you’ve got a lot of stories. What’s your favorite one? It can be sad, it can be happy, it can be funny. I love the stories that martial artists have and that’s really the root of this show. It was I just want an excuse to get people to tell me their stories. So, what’s yours?

Glen Doyle:

Wow. Can I get a tone for the story? Do you want a story of me learning from someone or do you want me teaching someone?

Jeremy Lesniak:

The one that… So, here’s the set up. You and I are at a barbecue and we find out that we’re both martial artists.

Glen Doyle:

Uh-hum.

Jeremy Lesniak:

We’re sharing a beer, whiskey or whatever.

Glen Doyle:

Okay.

Jeremy Lesniak:

And I tell you about the ridiculous time that Bill Wallace kicked me in the ear and said some horribly inappropriate things.

Glen Doyle:

Bill Wallace kicked you in the ear, too?

Jeremy Lesniak:

Oh, yeah. And I cannot repeat what he said on the air because it’s that terrible. I’ll tell you after. So, there’s that story. And you’re trying to meet me or one up me with one of your ridiculous or fun or impressive stories from your time. So, what would that story be?

Glen Doyle:

Well, first of all, just let me say that I, too, have been kicked in the ear by Mr. Wallace. So.

Jeremy Lesniak:

It’s a great club to be in, isn’t it?

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. He… I was in Quebec at the Capital Conquest. I was teaching there and it was the first time I met him. He’s an amazing man, don’t get me wrong. But yeah. He just targeted me for the whole weekend. I don’t know what I did but he would not leave me alone. And the sick part of me kind liked the attention but man, it was an interesting thing. So, we have that to share, you and I. Just wanted to say that.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Well, that’s… I train with Mr. Wallace now.

Glen Doyle:

Okay. I don’t know if he remembers me. But if you say my name…

Jeremy Lesniak:

He probably does.

Glen Doyle:

… in Quebec Capital Conquest.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah.

Glen Doyle:

You can see if here remembers me. He might not but.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I bet he does because I’ve seen his memory in action. And it is impressive. This is for you as well as everyone else listening, when he pulls someone up, he’s gotten very good over his years at identifying who’s going to be a great training partner or a great Uke. Someone who will play along, who has the right sense of humor but also has enough skill for him to work with in his demonstrations. So, it is an amazing compliment across multiple factors when he pulls you up.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. Oh, well that’s… I’ll take that.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah. As you should.

Glen Doyle:

Man. I mean, there’s two stories that I’d love to tell only because I think they really shape me as the instructor that I am. So, maybe that is something you’re interested in. And it’s interesting because, like I said, I have my two main instructors. I have my dad and I have Sifu Lore. And I have kind of one story from each. So, would you like me to just pick one?

Jeremy Lesniak:

You can tell both.

Glen Doyle:

Okay. The first is my dad. And this was when I was young, and I never forgot this. Because I thought at that moment he was the meanest man in the world. And then looking back on it now, it’s an amazing thing. But I was in elementary school. I believe I was in grade 4, maybe grade 5, and for some reason… A little bit about me for people, because people don’t know me, my mom is like 4’11”. My dad was 5’3″. So, I’m 5’4″. I’m a giant in my family. But anyway, I was little. I was a really little kid. So, grade 4 or grade 5. And for some reason, this kid in grade 8 just didn’t like me and was giving me some grief after school. But I was fast, like I could run really, really fast. So, school ended. The bell ran and off I went. I live about 6 blocks from the school. So, I was full out sprint. Jesse Owens would be looking at me going, not bad. Like I was gone. And I got home and he couldn’t catch me. He was close but he didn’t catch me. I got in and my dad was home. He shouldn’t have been but he was home because he got rained out. Because, like I said, he was an iron worker. If the weather’s too rough, they don’t connect the beams up high. So, he was home early. I came in huffing and puffing. He asked me what happened. And I said, oh this boy at school wanted to beat me up but don’t worry, I got away. And without a word, he got up and grabbed me by the back of the head, took me outside where the bully was still there, made me stand up to this guy. And of course, I got my butt handed to me. But when my dad figured that I had enough, he stopped it and took me in. And I felt so betrayed and so angry that my dad would do that to me. And he just looked at me and said, you run today, you’re going to run tomorrow, you’re going to run for the rest of your life. No running. And in retrospect now, I think that was something that I took very, very literally. And it shaped me to who I am. Well, I hated it at that time. I think I’m probably the most grateful for that lesson and all the lessons he’s ever taught. So, that’s the story about my dad and not funnier or humorous but life-changing. And for Sifu Lore, do you remember in China when they had the Tiananmen Square stuff going on?

Jeremy Lesniak:

Oh, absolutely.

Glen Doyle:

Well, they had a big vigil in Toronto which is where I train, where the club is. And Toronto is interesting because it has a number of Chinatowns. So, not just one Chinatown. Toronto has a bunch of them. They kind of pop up. And the main ones aren’t Spadina and Dundas. And the old China town – and again, if people don’t know Toronto, this is not really going to be a good reference but it’s close to where city hall is. And it’s called Old Chinatown. And in the ’80s, it was slowly shrinking. And the big Chinatown about 10 blocks away in a place called Spadina and Dundas was going to be the main big Chinatown. But anyway, they were having a big vigil at the city hall for the Tienanmen Square. And the Chinese community, because our club was so involved in the Chinese community, they hired us to do kind of a crowd control. Because they were expecting a lot of people and they expected them to be passionate. So, we were there. I didn’t want to say security but that’s technically what we were, right? But we’re there just to make sure that nothing got out of hand. So, Sifu got us all together. We all went down. It was a lot of people there. It was a big, big gathering. Everybody had candles and whatnot. And so, at this point, I’m in my late teens or early 20s and we all were. We’re all like young studs, young bucks. So, we’re all faced around this one section and the speech has start. And there’s on guy in the crowd starts to get really passionate and wants to go up and speak. So, he tries to push his way up to the stage. And Sifu’s sitting there and he loved his Tim Horton’s coffee. It’s a rule in Canada, you have to love your Tim Horton’s coffee. But anyway, he was having his coffee. And this guy was really, really passionate. He’s like, I want to go up there and speak. He’s saying this in Chinese. I didn’t know what he was saying but I could tell by his body language that he was getting very, very aggressive. So here, all of us, these young bucks full of piss and vinegar, we do Kung Fu, we’re awesome, we’re going to just… We’re just going to be right out of the movie. We’re going to take care of this. People walked up to the guy and at this time, he would probably be late 70s, maybe early 80s. Sifu Lore walked up and he has his coffee in one hand. And he’s like, look, you can’t go up. And the guy just made this rushing motion. And to be honest, to this day, I blinked and Sifu threw this uppercut out of nowhere. Just enough to knock the guy down. And it diffuses the situation. It was an amazing thing because he just gave him this uppercut out of nowhere. The guy went down. And while the guy is falling, Sifu’s trying to explain to him look, you can’t go up there. He’s still trying to explain to him after he just knocked him. So, anyway, it diffused to take the guy away and whatnot. And we’re standing there feeling like the most useless people in the world. Our Sifu who’s not exactly a young person took care of this guy. All these young guys are standing around, didn’t know what happened. And we looked at… When we went out, one of us said, Sifu, we’re so sorry that we didn’t do it. And he goes, ah, you know, I’m not a master. I’m not a Kung Fu master. And we were looking at him like, what are you talking about? And he goes, I spilled my coffee! If I was a real Kung Fu master, I wouldn’t have spilled a drop. I’m not a master. He was shaking his head. And I found that to be the funniest thing because it really set the tone for Sifu. Because when I joined, and it was a traditional Kung Fu club, he told me call him Jimmy. His English name is Jimmy Lore. His Chinese name is Lore King Hong. And I did it for about a year and it just didn’t feel right so I started calling him Sifu. But his attitude towards titles really affected me. So, even though I have a Sifu title, I don’t really make people call me that. And I think I get it from that story. Just because he was so innocently casual about ah, I’m not a master. I spilled my coffee. I just… I close my eyes and I can still see it happening. And it really impacted me as a martial arts instructor because his honesty about it was humorous. But at the same time, it was such a raw honesty that I think it really affected me as an instructor where I didn’t get so hung up on the titles, and I didn’t get so hung up on being perfect. I got more about the execution. And if a technique is meant that you don’t get punched and you do it but it’s not the way that you learned it but you still don’t get punched, it’s a good technique. It worked. So, I kind of used that story to justify or explain how I kind of approach sometimes when I teach. Where if, in the heat of the moment, something changes, at least it still worked for you.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Right.

Glen Doyle:

So, yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Those are two great stories.

Glen Doyle:

Oh, okay.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah.

Glen Doyle:

I don’t know if that’s good enough.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Knocks it out of the park. That’s what I was looking for.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah, yeah. So, one was a life lesson for me and the other was a lesson on humility and casualness of the additive of the title, I guess. You could class it as56:13

Jeremy Lesniak:

Undoubtedly. Now, what’s keeping you motivated? What are you looking forward to as you look out over life? I’m assuming you’re not planning to stop training.

Glen Doyle:

No. I had to stop training for a number of years in 2012, 2013. It’s nothing to do with training. It’s an out of training injury. It’s more hereditary. But my shoulders, I have this thing called frozen shoulder. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of that.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I have.

Glen Doyle:

I got it in my left shoulder and then I got it in my right shoulder. But I have it really bad. But it is genetic. My dad had it in his elbow. He got frozen elbow when he was older. And what would happen was, it came out of nowhere. I went to every person you could think of and no one really knows what causes it. They have theories. But I woke up with it one day… I just woke up with it. Then I had it. I went to bed feeling fine, woke up the next day and my left shoulder, I could barely lift my arm. And it was really debilitating and I couldn’t teach. So, I had to… I thought, actually, my teaching was over. I thought my career was over because I couldn’t do much with it. And then they say it can last anywhere from a month to two years. And mine lasted the full two because my body is that way. But it started to loosen up. I mean I went to rehab and stuff and it did help a bit. But teaching was really tough. And then as the left one was getting better, it actually moved over to my right. I had to deal with that on my right. So, I only told recently… Like in the last year and a half have I really started teaching again. So, I didn’t do a lot of physical stuff because I couldn’t move. So, I gained a lot of weight and I’m still happy with where my weight is. So, what I’m looking forward to now is my shoulders are… They’re still an issue but I can teach again and whatnot. So, I’m looking forward to using the teaching and my training to try to get back to where I feel a little healthier. So, I’m using it as my motivation but also as my tool to reinvent myself at this age. I’m 53 now. So, I’m just trying to get to a point where I can still teach, do things. But also, just to improve my overall mobility and get my health back to where I want it to be. I mean, I’m not in poor health by any means. There are people on this planet way worse off than me and I feel blessed that I am where I am. But I’m going to use what I learned and what I teach and whatnot to try to use that as the catalyst to get me back to where I want to be physically. So, that’s probably where I am right now. And it’s been frustrating. It’s really a test of my patience and you really try to look at yourself in a different light. When you think something you’ve had for so long which just suddenly got taken away from you. Because I thought it was gone. I thought my martial art career was done. I really did and I had to embrace that. And it was a pretty dark time for a couple of years. I mean, I’m still coming out of it. I’m still a little… I still have some dark days. When I can’t move like I used to, it’s frustrating. But there’s motivation in frustration if you know where to look. And that’s kind of where I’m looking now. So, that’s what I’m looking forward to in the future. It’s just to get myself back. And also, I haven’t given up on wanting to pass my family’s stick fighting style on to the world. I still want to do that. And that, again, is why I started the online course. Because it allows me to teach on my good days when my shoulders are really working well and whatnot. Because doing live seminars is great but every once in a while, I get up to do a seminar in some bad days. It’s a bad shoulder day like I call it.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah.

Glen Doyle:

And it’s like, ugh. Because when I go to teach a seminar, I’m all about the people taking the seminar. They’re giving up their time for me. They’re allowing me to step into their minds and move things around. The way they move physically, the way they move tactically – that is a huge honor. And I never want to misrepresent myself and I never want to take that time with them and not maximize it out so they’d benefit. So, if I book a seminar and then on that day, my shoulders aren’t working for me and they only get 50% of what I can do or they only get half of me demonstrating and showing how it’s supposed to work, I feel like I let them down. And I don’t want to do that. So, I think that’s probably why I came up with the online thing. Because I can tape it, I can make sure it’s edited in the best way to show the technique, the best way I did it. So, they get that sense. Because I do it like a seminar, obviously, but I’m talking to the camera. But they get to at least see everything I’m talking about. Where in a live seminar, I’m kind of having a bad day, sometimes I have to crossover stuff. And I just don’t think that’s fair. People are giving their time and their physical availability and, again, allowing me to step into their mind and influence the way they move. They’ve got to be getting the best part of me, right? So, that, I’m not there yet. So, that’s why I really tapered back my live seminars right now. Because I’m not into place physically with my shoulders just yet where I know I can show up and be ready to rock and roll for their benefit. Because, again, I’m all about the people taking the seminar. Because I want them to walk out of that seminar going, that was the best three hours, four hours I’ve ever spent. I’m not saying that from an egotistical thing where I want them to tell everybody that. I want them to feel that.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay, yeah. I get it. Without going too deep, I’ve experienced not that injury but certainly some injuries that have limited my ability to present information. And I know how frustrating that can be.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

When it’s keeping you from multiple goals, your own training, and the ability to pass on your knowledge. I understand that.

Glen Doyle:

Oh, yeah. You shake your fist to the heavens quite a few times.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Now, you mentioned this stuff that’s coming but you don’t have a website. So, what do people do if they want to keep tabs on you and sign up for this course when it’s ready or keep up on where your seminars are going to be?

Glen Doyle:

Well, I have a Facebook Group. There’s a Doyle Irish Stick Fighting Facebook Group and everybody kind of joins that. And anything I have coming up, I make an announcement there. I do have a website. My website is for me as a whole because I’m writer as well and I really embraced it a lot when my shoulders weren’t working so well. So, I write scripts and stuff and I do films and whatnot. So, my website is more of a catchall but there is a page on there that people can write me and contact me and keep tabs on what I’m doing martial arts-wise. I’m a terrible businessman, okay? And I’ve always have been… I’ve lost so much money teaching. I’m surprised my wife is still with me but she’s an angel. And she puts up with so much.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I apologize for laughing.

Glen Doyle:

No.

Jeremy Lesniak:

You’re not the only one.

Glen Doyle:

No, I know.

Jeremy Lesniak:

There’s something about martial artists that inherently, we just want to share.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah.

Jeremy Lesniak:

We just want to give it away. We don’t want to do it for money.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. And I’ve given a lot away. But you know what? I come from that honestly because, again, going back to Sifu Lore, when I joined Jing Mo in 1980… It was ’81 crossover. It was in the winter of 1981. It was what we call a Dungeon Club. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard that term. But the only way you join is by knowing someone. It’s the old style Chinese club. There’s no advertising. If you know a member, you… Now, I came across it by accident. And I was, again, it was near city hall. I was with some friends down at city hall and I’ve been looking for at martial arts. As usual, I know it sounds really, really stereotypical but I saw a Bruce Lee movie. And I said, wow, I want to do what that guy does. I really want to see what it is. So, I did some research and I found that he did a thing called Kung Fu. So, I said, okay I’m going to try and find Kung Fu. So, I was actively looking for Kung Fu clubs in Toronto and all the ones that I visited, I just… You know when you just don’t feel it? I just wasn’t feeling it. I went to visit all of them and I just wasn’t’ feeling it. So, I was kind of oh, maybe the Kung Fu is not what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll try Taekwondo or an Aikido. There’s a bunch of clubs. Toronto had so many to choose from. So, anyway, I was down at city hall with some friends. I was there to try to impress a girl which I failed miserably. And I was going home and I was cutting through this parking lot to get a street cardio home. And from the 2nd floor fire escape, this fire door was open and I heard all of this clanging and banging and this ruckus. And it sounded like a martial art class because people are making noise and whatnot. So, I was like there shouldn’t be a club here. There’s no markings on the building, there’s nothing. But it was at the 2nd floor that there was a fire escape. And it’s not the kind that you have to pull out. It was just stairs, just metal stairs. So, I just walked up and took a peek in. And I saw all these guys using these weapons. Some guys were 1:07:06 a heavy bag, some guys were doing hand forms and stuff and I kind of peeked in. And Sifu Lore was sitting, watching everybody and he spotted me. And he’s like, hey, what are you doing? I was just startled. I said, sorry I heard what I thought was a martial art class and I was just peeking in. And he told me to come in. And he made me sit down and he made every one of his students do a form for me and show what he taught. I mean, you understand I was in my teens. My hair was long, I look like a punk, really. For lack of a better term. And I couldn’t believe that he made all the students do a form for me and I was sold. And then I said I want to join. So, I showed up the next day and I was like… The average price back then when I looked at all the other clubs, again, this was in the ’80s, it was about $65 to $70 a month to be a member. And he charged me $10. And I couldn’t believe it. I’m like, okay. So, I gave him $10 a month. I trained, I went… It was open every day, seven days a week, from 5 AM to 10 PM everyday. Except on weekends, it was noon to 5 PM. But 5 AM to 10 PM on weekdays. I went everyday, didn’t miss a day for six months. It was insane – the amount of training. And then I have finished my first hand form and we were doing a demo, a show for… I forgot what it was for, some event somewhere in Chinatown. And Sifu asked me to do my form that I just learned. And I was said sure, I’ll do it. So, that was six months in. So, the next day after doing the show, I came in and I came to pay him. And he goes, no, you’re doing so much for me now. You don’t pay no more. So, my entire martial art education, my entire martial art Kung Fu education, cost me $60. So, I’ve come by the giving it away for free, honestly, because I trained with that man till 2008. So, $60 is what I payed for my entire Kung Fu education. It’s ridiculous.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Sounds like you got a good deal.

Glen Doyle:

Yeah. If you calculated the hours of training, I don’t even think… It’s like $0.001. Per hour, I don’t even know what it would be. But yeah. So, I come across it honestly in that regard. Sorry that I went off some tangent there. But I thought I would share that with you because it was the way I was… It was my experience with Kung Fu. He was such a generous man. And as soon as I started doing shows, he was like, okay. You’re sweating for me now. You don’t have to pay no more. So, I’m sure that he would giggle at me telling that story. But yeah. It was always tough for me. When I first started teaching, even when I taught women self-defense and whatnot. It was so hard for me to take their money. It almost felt criminal because I was so used to just teaching.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Yeah.

Glen Doyle:

But you got overhead. You’ve got to pay the bills. The thing with Sifu, because he was so big in the Chinese community, he didn’t pay for the space. They just gave it to him. The Chinese communities then. So, he had no overhead. So, it was a little different for him. But you don’t kind of factor that in when you’re kind of learning. You’re just wow, I got all these for $60. And now, I’m charging people all this money to teach what I learned for $60. There’s a little bit of guilt there. But I got over it eventually.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I don’t know if I agree with that.

Glen Doyle:

Well, maybe I didn’t. But as far as my…

Jeremy Lesniak:

Maybe mostly, halfway.

Glen Doyle:

As far as my wife’s concerned, I’ve got no work, okay? Between you and me.

Jeremy Lesniak:

Okay. All right. I won’t tell. I promise. This has been a lot of fun. I’ve really enjoyed getting to talk to you today and totally worth the wait to reschedule. So, again, thank you for your flexibility.

Glen Doyle:

Thank you so much.

Jeremy Lesniak:

And I want to ask just one more kindness if I would.

Glen Doyle:

Sure.

Jeremy Lesniak:

What parting words would you offer up to the folks listening today?

Glen Doyle:

Well, I would say… I’m almost paraphrasing my dad to a degree but not so much. If you’re taking a martial art, it comes from somewhere. I understand that the current state of mind is new is better, everything needs to be updated. But through evolution and actual life and death experiences, those techniques you’re learning have been passed on for a reason. And they belong there because they earned the right to be there. So, maybe just respect the past so much. Don’t be into it in an all-fire hurry to change things. Maybe just see how you can adapt them. And the other thing is, don’t be just a fighter; be a warrior. And that’s the one thing that my dad and Sifu Lore, they said it in different ways but they said the same thing. A fighter is someone who fights to keep themselves safe or to overcome their opponent. But a warrior not only trains for self-preservation but also fights for those who can’t fight for themselves. And when you’re a martial artist, you’re taking on a responsibility from the ages before you, from the generations before you. So, try to be a warrior and always remember that there’s people out there that can’t fight for themselves. If you have the opportunity to do it in a safe legal way, always try to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. Because it comes with the territory of being a martial artist. Maybe it sounds a little cliché but I think that advice has really kind of rested in my heart. And so, I’d probably say that as my words of wisdom, I guess.

Jeremy Lesniak:

I bet you could tell I had a ton of fun talking to Sifu Doyle. I mean, what a great guy. What great stories. And how powerful it is that he gets to pass on something he loves that is both martial arts and his family? I’ll admit. I’m a bit jealous. Thank you sir for coming on the show today. You can find show notes with a bunch of photos and notes and links and other cool stuff at whistlekickmartialartsradio.com. If you hit whistlekick.com, you can sign up for the newsletter, you could make a purchase. And don’t forget the code PODCAST15 to save 15%. Uniforms, gears, shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, water bottles, training journal – there’s a bunch of stuff. I just added a bunch of stuff last night. And if you want to just kind of follow all the other stuff that we’re doing, social media – YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter. We are @whistlekick. My direct email address, [email protected]. We keep it simple. And I thank you for your time today. Thanks for coming by, for giving me an opportunity to host this show. Until next time. Train hard, smile, and have a great day.

Episode 360 – Sifu Glen Doyle Sifu Glen Doyle is a martial arts practitioner and instructor. He is a former Kung Fu champion and practices Irish Martial Arts.

#Canada #Irish Martial Arts #Kung fu

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bera-chan · 7 years ago

Text

Parallels

i had a dream not to long ago. now this is significant because this is the only dream ive had in the past 15 years. or at least the only one in that long i can remember.

i remember every single detail.

Details so I don’t forget.

Main character is a humanoid alien, (or human when space travel is normal.)

Comes in contact with another advanced race, that immediately attacks. Main character and team crash land on a mostly water planet where the air is thick, and acidic.

There is life on the planet, humanoid and aquatic like creatures that can survive both on “land” and underwater.

The main character is captured. This planet doesn’t have space flight, and hasn’t had alien contact.

Planets culture is a mix of steampunk, and smoothed over retro. Just not as flashy.

The main character is sick for an undetermined amount of time due to the acidic natures of the world, but wakes up having adjusted to it. Something about the effects of the world are more mental than physical. As a scientist, he knows you don’t develop an immunity to acid.

He wakes up inside a large room. The ceiling a thousand feet up. The room a few hundred feet wide. One entire wall is covered in a thick black or purple curtain.

The air is thick.

He pulls part of it to the side so he can see whats there, and the entirety of the wall is made of glass. With thick darkness on the other side.

A sensor tool on his forearm, while clouded with static readings, tells him the entirety of the area on the other side is water. His instincts tell him that something is very wrong with what hes seeing.

He finds a door, and spends a few moments looking through it, to see what is out there on this world. And he sees the mundane. a variety of human like and aquatic like beings going about there daily routine. He sees childred playing and getting into mischief. He only sees part of the outside of the building hes in, but children are trying to explore it.

He thinks he can pass as a local, even for a little bit.

He does. For about a minute. Apart from his clothing, what gave him away as something they didn’t know was that he had walked out of a building no one was permitted to enter. Or leave. No one had ever seen anyone come out of this structure. It was revered as both sacred, and unholy. Something terrifying. Death, imprisonment, or exile were the only punishments connected with entiering the structure. It is everyones shock that gave him about a minute to walk away.

Hes sundenly chased by what he assumes are the local authorities. He runs away.

He notices random similarities between here and his own home world. Hes running through an every day looking airport terminal.

He doesn’t have much time to think on it. Hes caputured.

He understands their language.

Barely any time passes when he is told that he has been released.

A tall woman, whos aquatic nature resembles a solid black octopus. No legs, just tentacles, connected to a human waist, arms, neck and head. Shes wearing a dress. Its thick, and dark toned, just like most of her tentacle arms. Her ebony skin, while probably considered dark is almost pale compared to her dress and aquatic side.

“I know where you come from” she says, “so why don’t you come with me”

With little choice, he follows. Almost entranced by this creature.

He can tell she is someone of power, just from her words, and how the others avoid staring at her. Like their eyes will burn forever if they gaze on her.

They return to the room he woke up in before. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he follows her still. To his surprise they stop at a large normal looking hottub. And even more surprised, and albiet a bit flustered when this woman starts stripping and then eases herself into the tub.

Beckoned to join her, so they can talk, she says. He does the same, and slides himself into the water.

Its hot, but light. Lighter than the air. Hes confused. He feels the water, but at the same time, doesn’t.

she asks a number of questions. “where do you come from” “

she asks these, but her face shows that she already knows the answers somehow.

She says she has a need for him. Something only he can do.

She doesn’t say what, but only that they’ve tried for a very long time. Whatever it is was, or is, a painstaking process that has shown zero progress, and has resulted in the loss of much. Financially, and the loss of life.

“but, because you are here things can finally change. you can bridge the gap between our failure and success.”

Hes afraid to ask, his instinct tells him it has something to do with what is on the other side of the glass.

“it will still take time, but a few months to a year is trivial compared to the lifetimes spent on it” she says excitedly. He sees her lick her lips in anticipation. Despite the warmth, he shivers.

He hasn’t had a chance to talk at all. Just answering her questions one after the other.

“what are you building” he manages to ask

She responds, with her eyes widening with barely restrained enthusiasm, and a grin that could destroy worlds with its intensity, “A bridge.”

That’s all the information he’s able to get, as she rushes him out to some sort of placement. “we don’t need you until the final stage” she explains.

Days and weeks pass, and he has been working a mundane job that was given to him to quell any boredom. And possibly his curiosity about the world and this bridge. He knows that they’ve been studying him the entire time. He wakes up with his arm itchy, and a small microscopic pinprick. His tool on his forearm allows him to see where. Because its still with him, he assumes they don’t know what it is or does. Or at least havnt tried removing it.

They are studying his blood.

He thinks he understands the curiosity involved. Hes some random alien here. If he had the tools, hed be studying theirs, too.

They could at least ask him.

At night, when he can; he returns to the room he originally woke in. the glass wall bothers him. Something in his gut is screaming out that needs to be heard. Something in his head screaming back ‘im trying, im trying.’

He investigates the wall as much as he can. One night, he finds a stair case. It goes to the roof, maybe.

He treks upwards for hours, longer than he though realistic for how high the roof of the building is. This giant wall of a building.

When hes outside during the day, the entire possibly eastern side of the city is surrounded by this building. Hes never seen the other side.

Maybe he will tonight once hes at the top.

The air gets thicker the higher up he goes. He can feel the acidity increasing as well.

His forearm tool alerting him that the pressure and acid are beyond lethal doses now.

He doesn’t feel dead though.

He reaches the top, finding a door. He opens it up slowly. Fearful of what he might see on the other side. What kind of watery world might exist.

Theres nothing at all.

Theres no water.

No grass.

No life.

He doesn’t understand. The glass wall shows an infinite abyss beyond its protective glass. He saw the dark water through it. His tool confirmed it.

But theres nothing on the other side at all.

“I don’t like it much out here. Its far to bleak.”

He turns around, and not really to his surprise he sees the powerful octopus lady.

“I don’t understand” he says asking more than saying. “how can this nothingness be here, when down there on the other side of the glass it shows that infinite ocean?”

She grins knowingly.

“which one is real?” he ask.

His stomach knots up when she grins and responds, “both are.”

She walks across the roof, towards another door. She passes him, almost laughing as she gestures for him to follow. “what is glass most used for?”

“windows,” he says after a moment. Following her quick pace.

They go down another set of stairs, but the air doesn’t change. Its dark, he feels like itll consume him.

“there is a place we wish to go, but have not been able to reach. There is a great infinite chasm, that impedes our way. You are the key to finishing the bridge that can grant us our salvation from this world. That blackness you see on the other side of the glass. Its not water, but the chasm we are trying to cross. This entire building, this dam, is a window. And we are trying to reach the window on the other side.”

Hes barely able to make sense of this. This is beyond his knowledge of science. This isn’t part physics at all.

They reach the bottom. It’s a small room by comparison to the other. But there is no curtain covering the glass wall. Instead, there is a hole.

He still doesn’t understand. He can still see the watery blackness through the hole. Why isnt this entire room flooded.

He feels something though, coming out of it. Or he feels a lack of something when he steps closer.

Theres no acidity coming from it.

He steps away from it. It he can feel his nerves flaring up. Everything is starting to hurt until it reaches a point where hes gasping on his knees in pain. His body unable to adapt like it had when he first arrived here.

The woman picks him up, sheiding him some from the invisible flames.

“for some reason, it only hurts you” she says amused. “What lies beyond there is the atmosphere you used to live in. it seems your body cant re-adapt to it without possibly killing you.”

Hes barely able to hear her through his panting. She keeps saying things he just doesn’t understand.

“good luck little man. Its time for you to bridge the gap, and free us”

She turns around, re-exposing him to the pain, and without warning tosses him through the hole.

Pain floods his body the moment the darkness envelops him.

Hes falling.

And falling

Through the pain, all he can think is that death is near. Falling closer and closer to his end.

Unless the air kills him first. The pain the atmosphere is causing him is just as infinite as the darkness.

Time is lost.

Falling forever.

Death cant come soon enough now.

Hes slowing down. But he still doesn’t see the bottom.

The pain is lessening. Hes grateful.

He stops falling. But doesn’t move. The trauma leaving him twitching on the ground.

The air doesn’t hurt him anymore. He can breathe. It feels like the air he was always used to before his crash on this world.

He stands slowly, a bit nauseous. And looks around. Hes surprised when he sees the glass wall, and the hole he was pushed through right in front of him. He had fallen only a few feet. There is no-one on the other side though. The woman gone.

He reaches towards the hole, but isn’t able to pass through it. like the glass is there, blocking him.

He looks down, what is he standing on? He touches the ground. Its warm. Smooth. A sheer surface.

He turns from the hole, and holding up his forearm tool, activates a light attachment.

The darkness is still thick, but he can see a bit in front of him. Walking forward, he finds a doorway. He walks through it, and finds a massive antechamber. Pale orange light illuminating its entirety.

Hes immediately horrified. All along its walls were cages and pods. All different from each other in design, shape, and size. Each one with a being inside. Each frozen in place, in a stasis. Or dead.

Thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives.

#dreams #fantasy #exploration #writing #stories #freaking awesome #not done yet #id love critique

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genderrise3-blog · 6 years ago

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What Went Wrong at New York City Ballet - The New Yorker

Probably the most cherished old tale about George Balanchine is the one in which the mother of a girl who had auditioned for him comes up to him later and asks whether her daughter will become a professional dancer. “La danse, Madame,” Balanchine replied, “c’est une question morale.”

You could say that he dodged the question, but many of his admirers would say that he answered it directly and accurately. Dance, by virtue of its energy and its precision—and, often, its mounting intensity—brings us close to what many people in the world once looked for, and many still do, in religion. Music operates in the same way, of course, but most dance includes music, and it has something else as well: the body. On the dance stage, human beings place themselves before us much as, in old Italian frescoes, souls came before God: without words, without excuses, without much covering of any kind. They are more or less as they were when they came out of their mothers: flesh and energy, now with the addition of skill. That composite stands for what they are as moral beings, and what, in consequence, they tell us the world is. The better the dancer’s first arabesque penché—the more exact, the more spirited, the more singing its line—the more he or she will embody the promise of the ancient Greeks, lasting at least up to Keats, that beauty, truth, and virtue are inseparable, that we live in a good world.

Such thoughts, however, are unlikely to have occurred to Alexandra Waterbury, a nineteen-year-old model and a former student of the School of American Ballet, New York City Ballet’s affiliate academy, on the morning of May 15, 2018. She woke up in the apartment of her twenty-eight-year-old boyfriend, Chase Finlay, a principal dancer at N.Y.C.B., who was away at the time, and thought to check her e-mail on his computer. What she found on the screen was a series of photographs of women’s private parts, including her own, plus a brief clip of her having sex with Finlay.

According to the complaint in a lawsuit that she later filed, there were text messages, too. Finlay, sending someone a photograph of Waterbury naked, asked, “You have any pictures of girls you’ve f*cked? I’ll send you some . . . ballerina girls I’ve made scream and squirt.” The exchanges included several participants, notably two other N.Y.C.B. principals, Amar Ramasar and Zachary Catazaro, and a young donor, Jared Longhitano. “We should get like half a kilo”—of cocaine, one assumes—“and pour it over the . . . girls and just violate them,” Longhitano wrote to Catazaro and Finlay. “I bet we could tie some of them up and abuse them like farm animals.” “Or like the sluts they are,” Finlay rejoined. “Yeah,” Longhitano wrote back. “I want them to watch me destroy one of their friends. And they know they’re next. I bet we could triple team.” Finlay also reported that he had just “fucked a 20-year-old ballerina and her sister! That was my first threesome with family members. It was incredible!” In another thread, a former student at the ballet school thanked Finlay for sending a picture of himself and Waterbury engaged in a sex act: “I can’t stop looking at Alex’s tits lol.”

Waterbury got herself a lawyer, Jordan K. Merson, one of the attorneys who had just obtained a settlement in which Michigan State University agreed to pay five hundred million dollars to young gymnasts molested by Larry Nassar. Merson sought a settlement for Waterbury, but N.Y.C.B. refused, and there the matter appeared to rest, until the end of August, when the company announced that Finlay had resigned, and that it had suspended Ramasar and Catazaro after receiving allegations of “inappropriate communications.” A week later, Waterbury’s lawyer filed a lawsuit seeking compensatory and punitive damages for the pain and humiliation she had suffered, together with the damage to her reputation and, therefore, to her job prospects. Soon afterward, Ramasar and Catazaro were fired. (A lawyer for Finlay called the claims “distorted and inaccurate,” and Catazaro’s lawyer said that he would be seeking to have the complaint dismissed. Longhitano declined to comment, and a lawyer for Ramasar argued that one of the women had consented to having her photographs shared.)

Furthermore, Waterbury alleged that New York City Ballet and the School of American Ballet knew about this misconduct, or should have. The suit described a party that Finlay and other members of City Ballet had recently thrown at a hotel room in Washington, D.C., inviting underage girls, whom they “plied with drugs and alcohol.” The damage to the hotel came to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. But, according to the lawsuit, the hosts of the party, though they had to pay for the repairs to the hotel property, were not otherwise punished; instead, they were simply advised to confine such behavior to New York City, where “it would be easier to control.” This, apparently, did not mean control of the behavior but control of the repercussions—that is, damage control. By means of such tolerance, the suit claimed, N.Y.C.B. signalled to a group of male dancers “that they could degrade, demean, mistreat and abuse, assault, and batter women without consequence.” (An N.Y.C.B. spokesperson called the lawsuit baseless and said that, far from having “condoned, encouraged, or fostered” the men’s behavior, it had investigated the matter and taken “immediate and appropriate action.”)

Losing these dancers was a serious sacrifice for N.Y.C.B. Before the scandal, it had had only fourteen male principals. Now, in one fell swoop, it lost three, and two of them, Ramasar and Finlay, were stars. Accordingly, some people speculated that additional revelations might be coming, and that the company was trying to cover itself. Sexual misconduct in a ballet troupe, just as at the Metropolitan Opera or at Miramax or in the Roman Catholic Church, may be judged less severely by the public than the failure of those in charge to punish or remove the malefactors. The one confronts us with a bad person, the other with a bad world.

In other ways, too, N.Y.C.B. tried to prop up its reputation. At the company’s fall fashion gala, in September of last year, the curtain rose not on a ballet but on a large, loose collection of the troupe’s dancers, in street clothes—people like you and me, people who presumably did not fantasize about tying women up like farm animals. Stepping out from among them, Teresa Reichlen, a seraphic-looking principal dancer wearing a dress that covered her from neck to ankle, delivered a speech, reading it, modestly, from a printout. “We the dancers of New York City Ballet,” she began, in an echo of the Constitution’s We-the-People, “will not put art before common decency or allow talent to sway our moral compass. . . . Each of us standing here tonight is inspired by the values essential to our art form: dignity, integrity, and honor.” That is, what happened was just the work of a few bad apples. Management totted up the donations that Jared Longhitano had made to City Ballet and gave the money to the organization Women in Need. The amount was only twelve thousand dollars, but the institution was doing what it could to assert that it still embraced the faith of Balanchine. Dance is a moral matter.

There was much at N.Y.C.B. to suggest that this was not true—above all the career of the man who had been the company’s boss for the preceding thirty-five years. Peter Martins, a Dane who was trained at the Royal Danish Ballet’s excellent school, joined City Ballet in 1969 and was a sensation—beautiful of face and form, and with big, wonderfully precise feet. He was also six feet two, which meant that he could partner just about any woman in the company, and he was superb at doing so. Women danced better when they danced with him. His partnership with Suzanne Farrell, many would say, was the starring act of N.Y.C.B. in the late seventies.

Ballet historians still do not agree on how, or whether, Balanchine, as his health began to fail, chose Martins to succeed him as the company’s artistic director. Martins says that Balanchine telephoned him early one morning in the summer of 1978, invited him to breakfast, and offered him the job. But Balanchine never anointed him publicly. After the great man died, a number of his close associates—including Betty Cage, the company manager—questioned whether any such offer had ever been made and said that Balanchine’s choice would have been Jerome Robbins, whom he had appointed as a ballet master in 1969. The board of directors diplomatically named both men “co-ballet-masters in chief.” This arrangement continued—with Robbins working mainly on his own ballets and Martins looking after the rest of the repertory—until 1990, when Robbins resigned from the company and Martins became its sole artistic director, a position that he retained until last year, when he retired during an investigation of his treatment of the troupe’s dancers.

People trying to assess Martins’s career should keep in mind that, in the history of ballet, he had what was probably the worst case, ever, of big shoes to fill. Balanchine was an artist on the order of Bach or Tolstoy, in the sense that he had a long career, an enormous range, and a kind of poetic force that made people, when they saw his ballets, think about their lives differently, more seriously. If, at the end of time, anyone ever congratulates us on being the human race, he will be one of the prime exhibits. By contrast, Peter Martins, however beautifully he danced, was, at best, a middling choreographer, until, in the late eighties, perhaps under the strain of being compared with Balanchine night after night, he became something worse, a very pissed-off person.

Even early on, there was a spirit of antagonism in his work. His first piece for New York City Ballet, “Calcium Light Night” (1978), to music by Charles Ives, was a severe, sarcastic, and also rather witty duet, with the woman and the man taking turns dragging each other around the stage on their bottoms. This was the opposite of Balanchine’s woman-worshipping duets. The element of aggression might have been put down to youthful iconoclasm, but, as the years passed, it did not diminish; it grew. In 1988, Martins premièred a new piece, “Tanzspiel,” to a score by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich. In it, we see a lone man coming forward. As in a Balanchine ballet, a woman (or the ghost of a woman, or the memory of a woman) approaches him from behind. But then, instead of mesmerizing him, she grabs him, hangs on him, falls to the ground in desperation. He fleetingly responds, but mostly he recoils. Eventually, just to get rid of her, it seems, he strangles her, then dances around the stage with her lifeless body.

“Tanzspiel” was talked about long afterward. Part of what made it shocking was its apparent echo of the so-called “preppie murder,” two years before, which was given huge play in the New York press. In August, 1986, two private-school graduates—Jennifer Levin, who was eighteen, and Robert Chambers, Jr., a year older—were having sex in Central Park in the middle of the night when she died of strangulation. Chambers’s story was that she had pressed him for “rough sex” and was killed accidentally when he tried to stop her from hurting him. His defense team portrayed Levin as sexually rapacious, and, when the jury was unable to reach a verdict on the charge of murder, he pleaded guilty to manslaughter. Less than two weeks before the first performance of Martins’s ballet, with its depiction of female sexual demands provoking male violence, Chambers received a sentence of five to fifteen years.

Presumably for ticket buyers in search of milder material, Martins later created versions of Russian classics. Each was curiously unsatisfying. “The Sleeping Beauty” (1991) was radically shortened, and it had a strange ending, in which the crowns of the King and the Queen are removed from their heads and transferred to the Princess and her consort—an action that was hard to interpret as anything other than Martins telling his audience that they should stop pining for Balanchine and get happy with his successor. In 1999, the company danced Martins’s “Swan Lake,” a ballet that traditionally ends with the Swan Queen and the Prince drowning themselves in the lake and, in many versions, going to Heaven together. Martins simply has the Swan Queen walk out on the Prince. The message seemed to be: Isn’t this the way it happens in real life? People get together; they have problems; they split up. So what? In 2007, Martins made a new, brutal “Romeo and Juliet.” In Shakespeare’s play, Lord Capulet, furious over his daughter’s rejection of his marriage plans for her, says, “My fingers itch”—in other words, I feel like hitting you. In Martins’s ballet, Capulet actually did hit her, delivering a slap on the face that echoed through the theatre. (Within weeks of Martins’s retirement, the slap was removed.)

But it wasn’t just the revised stories—people deposing their parents and smacking one another around—that made Martins’s work look ruthless. More serious was the tone of the dancing in the company’s storyless ballets. Balanchine ballets that had seemed to be about the most exalted matters in our lives now sat cold and dry on the stage. The dancers appeared to be concealing their performances, as if they were afraid that we would see them defacing these revered works.

The situation was worse in Martins’s own ballets. The dancers often looked like body snatchers. When Martins had a success, it was usually with something fast and furious—for example, his “Harmonielehre” (2000) and “Hallelujah Junction” (2002), both to frenetic scores by John Adams—where the steps were so hard that no one expected the dancers to do more than get through them. The company rose to the challenge, and it was quite a sight—you felt as though your face were being scraped off. The experience didn’t stay with you afterward, though. I remember having a conversation about Martins in the late eighties with one of N.Y.C.B.’s female stars, who told me, “He hates ballerinas. He hates beauty. He hates Balanchine.”

In 1982, Martins began dating Darci Kistler, almost twenty years his junior, a tall, sweet-faced blond dancer from Southern California whom Balanchine had plucked from the School of American Ballet and installed in the company two years earlier, when she was only sixteen. She and Martins were together on and off throughout the eighties, and they married in 1991. One night the following year, the police in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.C.B.’s summer headquarters, got a call from Kistler, reporting that, after an evening out, she and Martins had had a fight, and that he had beaten her and thrown her into the next room, cutting her ankle. Martins was charged with third-degree assault, and spent the night in jail. Kistler later dropped the charges, though she never withdrew her account of what happened that night. Readers should bear in mind that Kistler was not only Martins’s wife; she was one of the leading female dancers in his company, and was often described as Balanchine’s last muse. And Martins damaged her leg, the thing on which a dancer dances. That’s like damaging a pianist’s hand.

Before Martins married Kistler, he had a relationship of legendary storminess with Heather Watts, an N.Y.C.B. principal. “I saw him pick her up and slam her into a cement wall,” John Clifford, another principal, reported. Gelsey Kirkland, in her 1986 memoir, “Dancing on My Grave,” recalled watching Martins drag Watts up and down a flight of stairs.

Given the notoriety of such episodes, it’s remarkable that it was not until December, 2017, that N.Y.C.B. and S.A.B. announced that they had begun an investigation into Martins’s behavior. While this was going on, Martins took a leave of absence and a four-person committee was appointed to manage artistic operations. (He was also suspended from teaching his weekly class at the school.) Why was he finally being questioned? Because, the newspapers reported, S.A.B. had received an anonymous letter containing “general, nonspecific allegations of sexual harassment” by him. A good deal of Martins’s treatment of women was a matter of public record, so there was something odd about an investigation prompted by something as easy to discredit as an anonymous letter making unspecific allegations.

Soon, however, more dancers—and not only women—began to speak to the press about mistreatment by Martins. Jeffrey Edwards, a very refined soloist, told Robin Pogrebin, of the Times, that in 1993 he was physically abused by Martins. He said that he lodged a complaint with the company’s general manager and with the dancers’ union, describing the episode in detail, but that no real action was taken. Edwards soon left the company and now teaches at Juilliard. A former child dancer named Victor Ostrovsky recalled a rehearsal in 1994, when he was a twelve-year-old student at S.A.B. He was horsing around with some other children in the ballet when Martins grabbed him by the neck. “He’s yanking me around to the left and to the right,” Ostrovsky told Pogrebin. “I felt like he was piercing my muscle. I started crying and sobbing profusely.” He soon left S.A.B.: “I was depressed; I was embarrassed. He assaulted me onstage in front of the whole cast.”

In an interview with Salon, Wilhelmina Frankfurt, a tall, commanding N.Y.C.B. dancer from the seventies and eighties, recalled an incident, mid-performance, in which Martins, she said, “pulled me into his dressing room and exposed himself to me. And I had on a tutu. I mean, with an American flag on it, and I ran out because I had to do the finale.” Another encounter she had with Martins, she said, “is so big I don’t think I can talk about it.” The company had no human-resources department for her to go to, and, even years later, once the investigation was under way, she’d been unable to give her version of events. The investigators, she said, would not allow her to bring a witness unless both she and the witness signed nondisclosure agreements. (The company disputes her account.)

The accusations did not always involve force. A number of dancers have claimed simply that Martins slept around among the female dancers, and that roles were often allotted accordingly. This, alas, is a time-honored tradition in ballet companies—and Balanchine’s career was marked, even shaped, by serial infatuations—but it is no longer honored, and managements are now scrambling to institute codes of conduct.

N.Y.C.B.’s investigation had been in progress for only a few weeks when Martins, who was then seventy-one, seems to have tired of the whole business. (Or did the board finally tire of him?) In any case, on January 1, 2018, a few days after being arrested for drunken driving, he announced his retirement. He still denied all the allegations against him, and he expressed confidence that he would be exonerated, but he wanted, he later said, to “allow those glorious institutions”—New York City Ballet and its school—“to move past the turmoil that resulted from these charges.”

Six weeks later, N.Y.C.B. and S.A.B. issued a statement that the Martins investigation “did not corroborate the allegations of harassment or violence both made in the anonymous letter and reported in the media.” No report on the inquiry was ever published, so it is impossible to know how this surprising judgment was reached. And although certain important dancers stood by Martins, the news that he never did any of the things that others had reported was received with considerable skepticism. As Victor Ostrovsky asked, how was it possible that the rest of the cast could recall nothing of what Martins did to him, as a child, at that rehearsal? “They all knew what happened,” he said. Many people in the dance world were disappointed that Sarah Jessica Parker, the vice-chair of N.Y.C.B.’s board of directors and a vocal feminist, had remained silent throughout the affair. (She eventually texted the Times, saying that the safety of the company’s dancers “is paramount to me.”) It was a few months after all this that Alexandra Waterbury logged on to Chase Finlay’s computer and found the photographs of the dancers he had caused to “scream and squirt.”

After Martins left, the boards of N.Y.C.B. and S.A.B. formed a search committee to find a new artistic director. Who that person should be is a mystery, not just to observers but also, no doubt, to the boards. N.Y.C.B. is different from other large ballet companies—the Bolshoi, the Paris Opera Ballet, England’s Royal Ballet—in that it has almost no history of succession. The company was created by Balanchine and his patron Lincoln Kirstein for Balanchine, to show his work. And though Jerome Robbins was eventually given significant space—perhaps a third of the troupe’s stage time—there was never any question of whose ballet company it was.

What everyone would want now is a great ballet choreographer, aided, as Balanchine was, by a superbly capable executive director and staff. But there is only one absolutely first-class ballet choreographer currently working in the United States, Alexei Ratmansky, a Russian, who is the artist-in-residence of American Ballet Theatre, across Lincoln Center’s plaza, whence he is unlikely to be seduced. Ratmansky had his fill of managing ballet companies in the five years, from 2004, that he spent as the artistic director of Moscow’s hidebound Bolshoi Ballet. His contract with A.B.T. allows him to do a good deal of freelancing at other companies, and he seems to like this.

But, however gifted Ratmansky is, no one is claiming that he is the equal of Balanchine. Furthermore, many people, for obvious reasons, have recommended that the new artistic director be a woman. The company, to its credit, has recently mounted ballets by a number of female choreographers. The executive director, Katherine Brown, is a woman. Would the audience accept an N.Y.C.B. run by two women? Why not? In the past, it was often run by two men. Lately, female City Ballet alumnae who have gone on to notable careers as teachers or administrators have been revisiting the troupe’s halls, and various names have been floated, but not on the basis of choreographic achievement. Whereas modern dance has been dominated, in large measure, by female choreographers, classical-ballet choreography is a career that in most Western countries has been all but closed to women, and this is changing only very slowly. To my knowledge, only two twentieth-century women—Bronislava Nijinska and Twyla Tharp—regularly made ballets for major international companies. So if it is hard to find a topflight ballet choreographer who is prepared to move to New York, it is even harder to find a woman who answers that description.

But a distinguished ballet company does not need to be headed by a distinguished choreographer. The example always cited is that of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. Serge Diaghilev was not a choreographer at all, but he had the energy and discernment to foster young people who were. After he died, the graduates of his troupe more or less staffed the directorships of Western ballet—Léonide Massine and Bronislava Nijinska in Europe and America, Marie Rambert and Ninette de Valois in London, Serge Lifar in Paris, and, notably, George Balanchine in New York.

This is no doubt the model that N.Y.C.B.’s search committee has in mind: someone with taste who is willing to share the throne or, periodically, to yield it. Peter Martins made no new ballets for N.Y.C.B. during the last five years of his directorship, and one of his virtues—they should be noted—was that he could spot talent in others. He was the first company director in New York to present a ballet by Ratmansky. He also cultivated Christopher Wheeldon, N.Y.C.B.’s resident choreographer from 2001 to 2008, who is now one of the leading lights of international ballet. Wheeldon’s successor as resident choreographer is the thirty-one-year-old Justin Peck, who, whatever his title, is increasingly emerging as the artistic face of the company. Peck, who still dances as a soloist with the troupe, is a man of great skill and productivity. He seems, however, to lack a subject. His casts, even when they are not wearing sneakers, and jackets emblazoned with protest slogans, as they did in his recent “The Times Are Racing,” often seem like teen-agers, a notion that is highly vulnerable to cliché and sentimentality. The audience claps loudly for his work. He was viewed by many people as a top contender to succeed Martins, but he told Gia Kourlas, of the Times, that he didn’t want the job. It’s not hard to see why. At this point, like Ratmansky, he can have pretty much any gig he chooses. Why should he narrow his ambit?

But the audience’s receptivity to Peck is touching. They like him, above all, I think, because he cheers them up and makes them feel, after all the scandals, that something good may once again come out of New York City Ballet. And if that something good is not, in addition, wise or profound—well, any port in a storm. After all, Balanchine never said what he wanted after his death, or how he thought the company should go forward. “Après moi, le board,” he once declared, and, boy, did he know what he was talking about. ♦

Source: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2019/02/18/what-went-wrong-at-new-york-city-ballet

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ashianahousingblog-blog · 6 years ago

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Comparing The Top Real-Estate Investment Destinations Bhiwadi, Noida Expressway & Noida Extension (Greater Noida West)

Ongoing rapid urbanization is increasingly gravitating towards urban areas ensuing in an increase in the number of people living in towns and cities leading to the growth of the urban population and the extent of urban areas. These changes in population lead to other changes in land use, economic activity and culture and other factors causing a host of problems such as a lack of jobs, homelessness and expanding squatter settlements, inadequate services and infrastructure, poor health and educational services and sky-high property prices and more. All these problems are further having a roll-out effect causing real-estate investors and end users migrate to emerging residential real-estate markets. As a result, non-metros are coming into focus as per the Hindu news article reports by 2030, as an estimate India will have 104 Tier-II, 331Tier-III and IV cities, whereas the number of Tier-I cities would be only 155. Tier-II and Tier-III cities have been named as “new cities in the making.”

Availability of large land parcels, increased demand for affordable and quality housing, development of smart cities, fast urban infrastructure development, rapid economic growth, the Housing for All scheme by the central government are a few reasons why real-estate developers and buyers have shifted their focus to Tier-II and Tier-III cities. Bhiwadi, Noida Expressway and Noida Extension are three such emerging real-estate hot destinations in the NCR (National Capital Region). The factors that have contributed to make these three cities to be preferred hot destinations in the NCR for real-estate investors:

Bhiwadi is located just 40 km from Gurgaon; it is witnessing a shift from its erstwhile image as a mere industrial area to a destination with full-fledged real estate viability. Being a part of the Delhi-Mumbai Industrial Corridor (DMIC), Bhiwadi is now an acknowledged a great choice for potential real-estate investors. Due to the relatively cost-effective land prices, growing housing demand and excellent connectivity afforded by the Delhi-Jaipur National highway (NH-8) Bhiwadi has attracted the attention of various reputed developers primarily offering affordable housing projects, with only a scattering of luxury projects.

Noida Expressway is one of the celebrated real estate hotspots which masses prefer for its significant advantages like the steady infrastructure of the location in addition to the connectivity to Delhi Metro is another reason why attracting majority of people to invest there. The polluted environment of Delhi is another reason for which people prefer to live in Noida in order to avoid the presence of noisy and toxic surroundings. Ranging from lower to higher prices, it offers luxurious apartments for both middle-class as well higher-class segments. Whether you are considering the location for commercial purposes or residential, Noida expressway is an emerging property destination for all the residents located near Delhi, Noida, Greater Noida, and Ghaziabad.

Noida Extension

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#real estate #ashiana housing #property in Bhiwadi #comfort homes #real estate investment

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abundantchewtoys · 6 years ago

Text

HS EpiPro: page 3 reaction

After giving it more thought, I know Rose might simply have been moved by the goodbye.

There's a possibility it's a farewell, that John might not be able to rejoin them, but then that would mean HIS victory state is something else.

And if I'm honest, the main thing that would move him to choose the other versions of his friends above those that he won the game with, was if their adventures somehow led to his Dad's resurrection. At least, that's the only thing I can come up with right now.

I also no longer think that Rose might have gotten 'ideas' due to her current state, but it still stands that her condition, if it wouldn't improve, is a serious impediment. Comparable to any debillitating illness you can get at a young age, like Parkinson or young dementia.

On to greener pastures, for now. I'm looking forward to the John/Roxy interaction. Apart from the funny quips they'll exchange, I'm looking to see what nuggets of wisdom she may have to share with him. If she won't join after all, she may have something for John as a Rogue of Void, shedding light on something he was too oblivous to have noticed or remembered.

---

Hmm, so Rose was in the Human Kingdom? Kind of strange, considering Kanaya's commitment to the trolls' legacy. It... might just be that the Human & Troll Kingdom are located at the same coordinates on the planet, just the first one on the surface level and the other, partially submerged? We know from the snaps that Karkat's hive, at least, was on the surface.

"For whatever faults this paradise you created might have, you sure don’t hear many complaints about the weather." Those faults including the troll rebellion that kidnapped Jane?

"You’re sitting with Roxy and Calliope on a giant, chessboard-pattern tablecloth. It’s a nice touch, you think. But if you spent any time shopping in the Carapace Kingdom, you’d know most things you can buy are chess themed." Pffff, hah, of course that's a thing. At least a chess-themed cloth is not so on the nose as, say, chess-themed cars or clothes.

"JOHN: she looked alright. mostly just tired.

JOHN: at least she seemed to have enough energy to babble at length about philosophical gibberish, and things about canon and such.

ROXY: lmao

ROXY: guess she filled you in on all the ultimate self junk then"

So Roxy knew about Rose's condition, but at minimum hadn't spoken to her that day yet. Also, she knows about the merging of selves! The 'ultimate self' term could've come from Jade, from when she talked to Davepetasprite^2.

"JOHN: you haven’t been feeling anything like that, right?

ROXY: what getting to know my ultimate self?

JOHN: yeah.

ROXY: man ive barely got a hold of my basic ass self" Hah, nice. At least John isn't the only one.

"the only illicit substance i’ve ever done is lick that STUPID trickster lollipop" Well, okay, so John didn't loot Dad's liquor stash, if the man had any to begin with.

"JOHN: NEVER AGAIN." Calliope might think the incident bears repeating, unless she learned by now that irresponsibly discarding your issues doesn't resolve anything.

"ROXY: cant say its much my business anymore

ROXY: rose and i arent as close as we used to be

You nod, sort of knowingly, because you’re thinking about how you hadn’t talked to Rose in ages either. Roxy gives you a quizzical look, but you turn away before she can draw meaning from it." :/ They've drifted apart over the years, then. I kind of hoped they'd keep in touch, all sister-like. And Roxy might be a whiz at reading subverbal clues, come to think of it, as Rogue of Void.

"ROXY: maryams been keeping her real busy since they got hitched

ROXY: they both vanished down the brooding caverns and that was p much that

ROXY: only since she got sick and spent more time at home did we start talkin more again

ROXY: its been great but our conversations have been a lil bit upsetting" Eesh, so... Kanaya's calling kept the two of them so wrapped up they lost contact. That's sad. I wonder if Rose came up because exposure to the sun helped alleviate some of the symptoms, due to Vitamine D and all that. In any case, if they hadn't talked that much in so long, there's still a lot of unresolved issues between the two of them.

"You look towards the bell tower in the distance. It’s a gothic building so tall that it cuts a shadow through the midday sun. It’s an important landmark in the kingdom—the tallest structure for miles around—and the only way you can ever navigate your way here flying. Carapace architecture is otherwise identic, a reflection of their functional, collectivist society." I'm pretty sure the bell tower resembles the towers with the prototyping orbs on Derse & Prospit. I can picture anyone not a carapace getting lost pretty quickly in this kingdom.

"ROXY: ive thought about it but ill probably never wanna live in a different kingdom

ROXY: still feel most at home around the chess guys" Aww, yeah, it's the society she grew up knowing, identical architecture included.

"JOHN: that’s about how i feel about the salamanders. JOHN: which... i realize actually makes no fucking sense." I think the Salamander Village somehow reminds John of his old town. Maybe by subconsiously equating the pipes of LOWAS to the Pipe Lake that was near his home. (Look it up if you don't know, the location of John's town really exists.)

"JOHN: they lead simple lives.

JOHN: i don’t really care for the chaos of human or troll cities." I think John longs for the suburban feel, and maybe there are a lot less suburbs on Earth C that can hold up in comparison to his old neighbourhood. Plus, the salamanders make a best effort to act like proper businessmen bringing food on the shelves and taking care of their atomic family household. It's just recognizable, to John.

"You watch Roxy smile and reach for Calliope’s hand.

> Look away before you start dwelling on it.

You start dwelling on it immediately, looking probably quite conspicuous with how quickly you whipped your gaze away. But seriously, what is up with their relationship? Is it romantic? Platonic? Can cherubs even have a romantic relationship? Are they even interested in it, like, on a fundamental level? Do their brains and hearts even work that way? Questions like this used to keep you awake at night." Ah, John, I know your the fandom avatar here, but for you to be this preoccupied with romance is weird. :P I'd figure he'd figure they were just close friends, like a good shonen anime protagonist would. I'm reminded of the events from the snaps, where Roxy & Calliope appeared to be dating, but eh. I suppose due to the snaps existing outside of canon, they're all squared off into a "choose what you want to keep from this" zone.

You look at them, at where Roxy’s fingers are entwined with Calliope’s green claws. Calliope is still wearing the Ring of Life. The same one you obtained in a ludicrous adventure through the afterlife, and then re-obtained in a ludicrous adventure through canon when it was stolen from you. It’s the same one that allowed Calliope to stop being dead in the first place, and to come live with your friends here on your beautifully renovated home planet." I've begun thinking: if John would retcon the Game Over timeline, Aranea would still be in possession of the Ring of Life. But she may not keep it, it just depends on whether removing the ring rekills her or not. If not, then that's a Chekov's Gun they'll probably need at some point.

"And it’s the same one you gave Roxy all those years ago, to fulfill a promise made to a very special new friend.

At the time, the gesture felt so important. It felt more meaningful than any gift you’d ever given. Like there was some grand emotional gravitas about it that signified something deeper than... than what it turned out to be.

You have since concluded you were just imagining things. Ascribing symbolic meaning to gestures that they simply didn’t carry, like the dumb kid you were." Yeah, Roxy x John was being hinted at pretty badly back then. I figure part of the reason John hasn't stayed in touch with her is because the feelings were, in the end, not to last or be reciprocated in full. Then again, it might have been a case of one thing leading to another - John distancing himself because he didn't know what to make of Roxy & Calliope's relationship, in turn alienating Roxy little by little.

"But you can’t stop thinking about it. What goes on in Roxy’s head. What she thinks about you.

You and all your friends have dispositions affected by your classes and aspects. You think you know what that means in your case. But what about her? You can only speculate. Void is a place where things sink and disappear. Where they linger forever, but cease to exist. You aren’t actually sure if your feelings for Roxy ever really faded, or if they just grew numb with time and distance. Is it the same for her?

You search your soul for the answer, but come up empty. The truth is, you suspect her mental interior is unfathomable. In fact, you feel sure of it.

You wonder suddenly, watching her. This version of her, that is. The one with whom you share all these bittersweet memories—will you ever see her again?" I do wonder what John's class & aspect does to his disposition, that he thinks. As for Roxy's feelings being swallowed by the Void or the workings of her mind & heart being incalculable... That is just taking an easy way out of thinking about a hard problem, in my opinion. I do however like the fact that John at least realizes that by goiAgang back into canon, he risks losing his way back here. It's good the realization didn't just came after the fact.

Again, what's HIS victory state: Dad revived, and Roxy committed to a relationship with him, if she really isn't otherwise engaged? ... I wonder if he'll seek some last minute guidance from Nannasprite (either one), before leaving, come to think of it.

"CALLIOPE: ahem." Aha! I was kind of beginning to doubt she'd even speak up. It's easy to think of Calliope as a background character in this story, but she's been an important catalyst for a lot of events. And, she or a version of her will probably still have a large role to play. Though Blaperile and I wonder how there could be another version of her, since Roxy only revived her after the events of Game Over.

"CALLIOPE: please forgive me if i come across as impatient. bUt if we are finished with the pleasantries, i believe yoU have a choice to make." I don't think the choice is: cake or cookies. Then again, it just might be, since Blaperile reminded me the choice was referred to in the epilogues summary. It'll probably get lampshaded a couple times again before it really happens, and they do seem to be picknicking right now.

CALLIOPE: the choice as to whether yoU will go defeat my brother, or stay here." Ooh, I'm glad it's a serious choice. I wonder about Calliope's stance in this matter. She hates Caliborn, also fears his powers, presumably. But she's wise enough to understand his importance to the whole of Paradox Space.

"CALLIOPE: have yoU decided yet?

JOHN: there’s a choice??" Real, capitalize-C Choices, in Sburb at least, always seem to beget two timelines, but inside an epilogue, the consequences of that would be... confusing.

"ROXY: tbh its a relief to finally be doin this

JOHN: it is?

ROXY: mm hm

JOHN: how much have you actually... talked about this? i mean, how many people knew this was going to be a thing?" ... Did EVERYONE of the players talk about this beforehand, has everyone made there peace with John possibly leaving them forgood to save their own futures? On the one hand, that would sooth John of most worry, but on the other hand... That must sting a little or a lot.

"ROXY: just us and rose. well dirk too i think" Oh, so only them and Dirk? Is it because of his powers as the Prince of Heart, that he has his own understanding of the ultimate self, by way of keeping in contact with all shards of his person in some way or another? ... Is the epilogue version of Dirk, or Brain Ghost Dirk, going to be able to use some of post-canon Dirk's knowledge in the matter, I wonder?

"ROXY: shes been talkin to me about it a bunch

ROXY: and him too but i dunno how much

ROXY: hes got like

ROXY: “thoughts” about all this shit

ROXY: but whatever thats not important or even remotely surprising

ROXY: bottom line, rose has been tormenting herself about having to tell you

ROXY: im just glad she finally said it so she can rest" Ah, so that is the main reason Rose & Roxy's latest conversations weren't more pleasant, then. Also, Dirk and Rose have always been the strategists of their respective cliques, among the humans that is.

"CALLIOPE: yes. take all the time yoU need.

CALLIOPE: again, we aren’t here to inflUence yoU. it’s very important that the decision come from yoUr desire to go throUgh with it, one way or another.

CALLIOPE: any tampering coUld taint the resUlts.

JOHN: taint the...

JOHN: wait, what?" Oh yes, John has to decide for himself, no one can just, like COMMAND him to do it through the narration or anything. :P Funny how, meta wise, indeed we can't influence John, but in-story, he's of course still getting railroaded into making a choice. There's supposed to be three options in this: fight, flight or indecision, but he's denied the last one.

This is actually one of the first times John is going to make the call for himself after being informed of the stakes. I mean that in, he's not supposed to decide on the best course of action together with someone else.

"A chill runs through you and stays there.

> Consider the gravitas of this choice.

You try, but you can’t, because you weren’t really prepared for it. You didn’t think it was a choice at all until this very second." Even if they won't influence him in word, being informed of the stakes may convince John that there is not really anything to say in favour for NOT doing this.

"You think back to the way Rose looked at you before she went to bed. What has she told Roxy that she didn’t tell you? The chill tightens around your throat and turns into fear.

No, not fear. The feeling is worse than that. It’s regret.

You wasted your time here on this idyllic restoration of Earth. Why did you spend so much time alone? Moping around the house mourning your dead father, who probably would have wanted you to get more enjoyment out of your teen years, as well as your unusually early retirement. There’s so much you could have done. You could have even reached out to Roxy again; maybe she was waiting for you to do that. Maybe your withdrawal hurt her. Maybe she was heartbroken, just like you kind of feel right now. You study her perfectly stoic face and conclude nothing from it. Her expression reminds you of how Dave used to look, when you first met for real, before years of living with Karkat softened him up. Impenetrable cool." John might get a lot of second chance out of this adventure, but it won't make up for what he and everyone else has gone through already... I'm glad John is coming back from that whole "unfathomable mental interior" idea he had. It shouldn't be that hard for him, to picture what he'd feel if he was her and had gotten the same treatment as he gave her.

"It’s too late to figure any of this out now. You fucked it up already.

Unless, of course, you choose to stay.

Upon further examination, you realize that Roxy’s stoicism isn’t cold. There’s concern there. She is displaying restraint, keeping quiet while you make up your mind. You’re sweating, you realize. Cold sweat. Even worse than the anime nightmare sweat you woke up soaked in this morning.

ROXY: john u ok?" The gravitas of the situation is fully stalking him now. At least, if he chooses to stay, I'm convinced another version of him would turn up to fill the... ahem, void. Like the version of him he met when he went back to talk to Terezi and got the scarf instructions.

Blaperile has a good point, that John for once has to form an opinion on the best course of action and stick to it, not letting himself be influenced. That kind of resolve is rare for him, after all, he's done so much relying on other people to know better.

"JOHN: ..." This is really not any responsibility John enjoys having.

"CALLIOPE: this decision is far too important to be made on an empty stomach." Oh, NOW the cake & cookies come out. :P I think John'll have to think this one over some more still, asking other people for input.

"CALLIOPE: behold, an array of savory delights for the carnally inclined.

CALLIOPE: or perhaps something for yoUr sweet tooth, if a lUst for treats is what stokes yoUr desire?" Hah, her diet's still the same then as before, meat & candy.

"You scoot to the side and peek into the basket to see if there’s anything else. There’s a book in there, but no more food. This is all there is." Might that be Rose's tome in there? It would be funny for John to only make his decision after having reread the entirety of Homestuck, as a refreshener of everything that happened to him. :P

"Your entire world narrows to a single point of light as you are utterly consumed by the overbearing decision about which of these absurd meals to have for lunch." Ah yes, not the Choice the victory state deserves John to make, but the one John needs right now.

"> MEAT or CANDY?

Meat or candy. The two possibilities pinball around your skull. Meat or candy. It’s a tough choice. On any other day you might be inclined to simply follow the whims of your cravings, but no clear victor surges to the forefront of your mind."

Hmm, there seems to be a parallel being drawn here to John's actual Choice. Is the timeline going to split over it, I wonder? ... Blaperile has a good point. Is this indication that, even in this, John will be able to pick a third option, like how the Vriska/Terezi standoff got resolved? If neither option seems to lead to an entirely satisfactory outcome, he might have to create his own terms somehow.

"Either option offers a tempting means of sustenance. You know the meat will be rich and filling, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you haven’t had the most robust diet as of late. You didn’t even have breakfast. It’s probably a good idea to eat something resembling a real meal for once." So, is MEAT in this allegory John going back into canon, kicking off a new, fulfulling adventure? And CANDY being John staying in the victory state, everything staying happy happy joy joy but ultimately not leading to anything? Then again, MEAT is bloody. The adventure won't be cleanly resolved, just like Homestuck proper had some loose ends.

"But you’re no stranger to Calliope’s tastes, as far as carnivorous comestibles are concerned. You know every cut on that plate is rare to the core. It’ll fill your mouth to bursting with juice, lie heavy on your stomach for hours to come as your body works to break down all the nutritious protein and fat." Aka Hussie tells captivating tales, that we'll need to digest for some time. We should be wary about this.

... Are we going to get a choice as readers at the end of this page? Stay or leave? (Not to be confused with the Brexit poll choices.)

... No!

This is the end of the it, for now!

"To Be Continued" Cooooooool.[/spoiler]

In all honesty, I had been spoiled on my dash that a TBC was incoming, but I didn't know when or if in the meantime the comic might have updated again.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #reaction #homestuck liveblog #spoiler alert #upd8 #john egbert #roxy lalonde #calliope

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