#a self-image that is also aligned with his established character unfortunately

[dracosaurusrex]

Kintsugi: Imperfectly Perfect (Draco x Reader)

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.”

- Tiffany Ayuda

Summary:In which Y/N teaches a broken Draco Malfoy how to mend himself and embrace the scars that haunt him.

Wordcount: 10.3k

Genre: Angst/Fluff; Postwar AU

Warnings: Descriptions of depression; self-degredation; sexual themes but no smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing a postwar AU. I was always afraid of doing so out of fear that I would mistakenly portray Draco, but I guess this can be a rite of passage in a way aha. With that being said, here’s my attempt! I hope you like it :D Feedback is very much appreciated!!

The sound of an alarm clock breaks the peace that had manifested within the darkness of the room. One eye creaks open, followed by the other, and a body raises itself to greet the day. 

The boy lifts his sheets gently, allowing the cold air to engulf his skin, to wake him, to pull him into the reality of yet another morning. 

The pads of his feet are the next to awaken as he hoists himself out of bed, meeting the frigid floor beneath him. He plods across the expanse of space, only to take notice of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco Malfoy, once boisterous, prideful, loud, and arrogant, had been reduced to a shell. One that lived by drifting through the motions of each passing day. It showed through the dark circles apparent under his eyes, the frown that resided on his lips, and his overall gaunt appearance. The thrill that was once characteristic of his youth had spilled through his cracks, leaving him empty and seemingly unrepairable; and no other perspective of his experience could convince him otherwise. 

The second wizarding war took too much from him so early on. It started with his father, the man he had ardently looked up to, who he desired so much to please. Lucius’s arrest put the young boy on the forefront of the Death Eaters’ activities, placing an unbearable weight on his shoulders. From that point on, it wasn’t long until the mischievous smile left him, only to be replaced with panicked eyes, increased stress levels, and absolutely no peace of mind. The boy had his entire life on a tightrope, constantly pulling strings to survive.

The result of such was the immense realization of guilt pooling from the sights of Hogwarts in shambles, the lifeless bodies of those he was once acquainted with, and the shame of literally walking away from it all. 

Nightmares were also frequent visitors. Besides those that embodied remnants of the war, Draco was almost always confronted by the tauntings of his wrongs: the way he poorly treated others, his stuck-up sense of superiority, the foul slur that he once used so freely--they all haunted him with no end, and all he wanted to do was take everything back. The boy has so often degraded his character since then, describing himself with words such as ‘worthless’, ‘loathsome’, ‘putrid’--the list goes on. He carried his beating heart as though it was dead weight, wanting so desperately to discard the regret that compounded on itself through the years. He was broken, and had no hope of being fixed. 

It was also needless to say that the family dynamic had changed for the Malfoy’s; especially since they often stayed within the confines of the property. Narcissa had been diligent in eradicating the place of all things that harbored any signs of Voldemort’s occupation--opening curtains, tending to her garden, changing up the plans for the interior design. Lucius, on the other hand, often occupied himself in his study, simply abiding by the plans for change that his wife had made. He still invested in his social connections, actively making donations to charities and hospitals that had been established as a result of the war. The act helped shed some light on their image, however any interaction that was to be made with the world outside was done through Draco as representative of the family name.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his mind silent in the mornings. As he walked through the vast hallways he would take note of the way light had poured into the manor, admiring the charm that it brought to its nooks and crannies. The quaint atmosphere that was characteristic of these corridors were peaceful, and managed to calm his thoughts albeit temporarily. 

As soon as he entered the dining room, Narcissa beckoned him to sit with her and his father. 

“Draco, darling, come have some breakfast.” Without much response, he obeys, taking the spot across from her. She placed his favorites on a platter, and observed him as he nibbled on the food in front of him. After several minutes of silence, she pulled an ivory-colored envelope from the pocket of her robe and slid it to him. With food still mounted on his utensils, the boy glanced at the gold details that embellished its corners.

“We’ve been invited to an art gala hosted by the Ministry. The details are inside.” She said.

“I’ll be sure to be in attendance, mother.” He confirmed before resuming his breakfast. The woman casted a worried look at him before turning to Lucius. Things could never go back to the way they once were.

--

The art gala was held on a Saturday evening, and Draco found himself standing in front of a finely decorated building. An air of aristocracy and luxury loomed within the environment--it was an energy that he had been surrounded by all his life. Large columns aligned its front. A red carpet stemming from the entrance had been rolled out, sweeping along a flight of stairs. Familiar faces of esteemed socialites were seen making their way up the steps. Banners had been hung, indicating the gala and a live auction as highlights of the day’s events. 

His only job was to engage in civilized conversation, connect with other high-standing figures, and expand the family network. Simply put, he was there to look pretty.

The feeling of dread overcame him at the thought of immersing himself in socialization. With a begrudging sigh, he straightened his back, briefly smoothened out his suit, and adjusted his cufflinks before trudging up the stairs. Eyes tracked his every step. Despite his emotional wellbeing, the boy still managed to clean up well, creating a facade to those around him. He didn’t bask in the glory, though. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was wealthy, but looks and money were no longer sufficient enough to help him tend to the emptiness he felt on the inside.

The gala itself didn’t begin until 6:00 PM, which was in an hour. Therefore, in hopes to kill time, Draco aimlessly walked through the art displayed for the auction to be held later that night. He carefully observed the numerous crafts with great scrutiny. Paintings were created with much detail--many of them embodying styles from the varying art periods. Sculptures paying great detail to the human body littered the main floor. Hand-crafted furniture were set on display as well, showcasing elaborate ornaments and designs. Mother would like these. He thought. He continued plodding across the exhibit, typically stopping for a mere minute for every submission before walking away. 

It was when he took sight of a humble set of ceramics that he actually stopped to stare. The collection consisted of bowls and pots ranging from small to medium sizes. However, what caught his attention were the traces of gold that coursed through their shapes. They took the form of cracks, which looked too beautiful, too flawless to be such--he couldn’t comprehend them ever being broken at all.

“Do you like them?” A light voice startles him from his thoughts. Standing next to him is a bright-eyed girl whose face he vaguely remembers.

“Y/N Y/L/N? What are you doing here?” He dismisses her question and looks at her with disbelief laced through his voice. The girl was in Ravenclaw when they were still in Hogwarts. Due to the difference in houses and friend groups, there was rarely any interaction between them. Nevertheless, he’s heard countless praises for her artistic talent even as a student, therefore reserved a tinge of respect for her reputation.

“Draco Malfoy! It’s been such a long time!” She beams at him. A breathy laugh escapes him as a polite smile settles on his lips.

“Definitely has been. Were you eyeing this set as well?” He glanced back at the ceramics, contemplating on bidding for them in the auction. The sight of them evoked a warm, admirable energy within him, as though they called for his presence.

“Heavens, no. I actually made them.” Y/N took notice of the way he glanced at them, and shyly rubbed the back of her neck. The boy turned to her with eyes widened in awe of her brilliance—the smile of politeness immediately transitioning to one of sincerity.

“You made these? They’re beautiful!” The comment brought heat to her cheeks. 

“Draco, please. You flatter me so.” 

“I’ll be taking these home without a doubt.” He reassures her. In the moment that he says so, he immediately takes notice of her appearance. Her hair was slicked into a low bun. Her makeup gave her a pleasant dewy look. Gold accessories accentuates her deep emerald evening gown, which only emphasizes her curves as it flows down her body. He couldn’t recall her ever being attractive when they were students—she had always been clad in blue. But, tonight proved that green was definitely her color.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He complimented as his eyes glossed over her. She bit her lip in response to the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

“You always had a way with words didn’t you, Malfoy?” The melodic laugh that she produced, in turn, caused his heart to skip a beat.

“I admit I was a prat, but I’m not joking around this time.” The girl let out another giggle before placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. 

“I think you look rather dashing yourself. Unfortunately, though, I have to get going. I’ll see you around?” 

“It would be my pleasure.” Draco watches Y/N’s figure as she walks away. Before she goes any further, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Good luck with the auction!” 

With a small wave and smile, the boy is left in a lighter state.

The gala came and went with Draco thoroughly exhausted from the copious amounts of socialization. Questions regarding connections to his father were asked, business cards were exchanged, and flattery and compliment was a common occurrence amongst these interactions. Nevertheless, the boy’s energy especially drained from the intensity of the auction that occurred towards the end of the night. All the art pieces were valuable and beautiful, however it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t the only one drawn to Y/N’s work. Competition for the highest bid was at an all-time high as number paddles were desperately raised for every price announced. His heart clambered in his chest as the thought of keeping the ceramics seemingly slipped from his grasp. 

“Highest bid for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any takers?” The auctioneer announces. Draco waits for a second to see that no one has raised their paddles. Within the next, he lifts his own confidently. 

“We have a bidder for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any more bidders? No?” At this point, adrenaline coursed through his veins, beads of sweat had formed and fell, and the grip on his paddle tightened, leaving marks on his hand.

The auctioneer proceeds to announce the final countdown, “Final bid for 80,000 galleons! 1, 2, 3, sold to Draco Malfoy!” Relief overcame him while congratulatory praises were given by those nearby. He catches Y/N’s gaze from afar, and throws her a wink, signifying the resolution for the chaotic night.

--

As attendees began to file out of the building, the boy waited in the hall to collect his reward, filling out the form that confirmed the amount he had to pay. With his attention drawn to the slip, he fails to notice Y/N’s presence beside him. She looks over his shoulder, eyes widening at the amount before looking away to suppress the smile that threatens to form on her lips. She never really gave much monetary value to her art before; each one was produced as a product of passion and love. However, the expression that it first brought to Draco’s face, in addition to the amount of effort he put in to attain them, reassures that her work will be well taken care of. She momentarily stares at his broad shoulders before gaining the courage to speak.

“Congratulations!” She says, startling him once again. He takes a second to collect his breath before looking up at her.

“Do you plan on giving me a heart attack, Y/L/N, or is it in your nature to be overly enthusiastic?” The shameless smirk she has on her face, prompts him to release a chuckle. He stands up straight as soon as he signs the piece of paper, engaging his line of vision with hers.

“The way you respond is not my fault, Malfoy.” She answers, playfully shoving her index finger towards his shoulder. He grabs her wrist, and the warmth from his hands, accompanied by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes, prompts her to cast the same expression. She shoots him a coy smile before he releases her from his grasp.

“Would you like to accompany me to the front?” He asks.

“That’d be lovely.” The pair approaches the stage where the volunteers greet them both. They present his items upon confirmation, and proceed to wrap each bowl individually. He lifts one of the unwrapped pieces to his eyes, examining the gold details.

“How’d you manage to pull this off?” He asks, impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s a technique called ‘kintsugi’. I learned it while living in Japan for a while after the war,” She says, reaching her hand out for it. He gives it to her.

“You know, these pieces were never supposed to be auctioned off in this gala,” She explains as she delicately traces the lines, “They were so damaged. You can even consider them to be broken beyond repair,” Draco observes as she lifts it to her eye level.

“But obviously, when pieced back together—with all their cracks emphasized by the gold—they have much more value and beauty,” Y/N gives it back to Draco, and he takes it gingerly.

“However, It took a long time for it to come out that way. When you examine the piece before its repair, the first thought in mind would be to discard it. After all, why would anyone bother mending a broken bowl?” She meets his eyes once again.

“These cracks would typically be considered flaws, but at the end of the process the piece is still whole—I’m still whole. They mean a lot to me, and helped me heal from the war and all.” Her line of sight drifts towards the end of her statement, yet the boy catches himself appalled by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to speak so openly, yet the words that flowed from her mouth touch him in a way he can’t comprehend. For once he feels a glimmer of hope budding within. For once, inspiration meets him, and he doesn’t want to lose that feeling she effortlessly provided. 

“I’ll make sure to take great care of them.” He says with much sincerity.

He places the piece back onto the table, and turns back to Y/N to see a sweet smile on her lips.

“I have faith you will.” A knowing look is shared between them--one that makes both hearts flutter in longing to see each other again.

“Do you think we can keep in contact? If it’s alright with you that is. I’d like to become more familiar with this art technique.”

“The Slytherin prince wants to keep in contact with me? Consider me wooed.” Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles at the old title. Before he could respond, she speaks again with more seriousness, “I don’t usually accept visitors in my studio, but I’ll make an exception for you. You can come by sometime, if you’d like.” 

A genuine smile appears on his lips for the second time that night. Out of all the individuals he exchanged contacts with, she by far had been his favorite. He ensured to send her an owl to confirm their meeting, hoping to do so some time next week. 

As they part, she turns back one more time, and calls out to him, “Draco,” The sound of his name perks his head upward

“You should smile more. It’s a lovely sight.” Before he could see her face erupt in a blush, she apparates away. With his new belongings in hand and an obvious grin, he too returns to the manor, feeling elated for the first time in a long while.

--

It was nine o’clock by the time Draco apparated home. Narcissa immediately took notice of his change in aura much to her relief.

“How was the gala, dear?” She asks.

“Quite pleasant this time around, if I’m being honest. I won these at an auction.” Draco stated as he props the box on top of a table. His mother approaches him, attention drawn to the objects when he reveals the contents inside.

She gasps, “Oh my stars, they’re beautiful.”

She picks one up delicately. The expression she had on her face was very much identical to the one he sported when he came across them the first time.

“I knew you’d like them. The artist was a fellow classmate of mine at Hogwarts.”

“Oh? Who is it? I would like to see more from this artist.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. Quite brilliant she is.” Mother’s instinct told Narcissa that this girl had her son taken aback. She saw it through the pleasant expression that graced his facial features, which contrasted greatly to the gloomy air that usually accompanied him. Furthermore, there was a decadent tone in his voice, a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight smile present when her name rolled off his tongue. She decided to probe a little bit more.

“House?”

“Ravenclaw.” He responds.

“Very fitting. The craftsmanship in her work is amazing,” The woman’s eyes marveled at the gold.

“How is she?” She asks. The question catches the boy off guard.

“Pardon?”

“How is she doing? Has she been okay since the war?”

“We didn’t touch upon it too much. Although, she mentioned that creating these has helped her heal.” 

“You mean to say that these were broken at one point?” 

“Precisely. She mended them.” At this point, Narcissa was quite taken by the girl as well. 

“You should invite her over one of these days. I’d love to have a cup of tea with her.” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“You’re not going to ask about her blood status?” 

“I would’ve known she was a pureblood from her last name, but times are changing aren’t they not?” Narcissa flashes a tightlipped smile towards her son, to which he responds with a nod of understanding.

“I’ll be going up then. You can keep that one mother. You seem to take a liking to it.” Draco turns on his heel at the end of his statement, carrying the box of ceramic goods under his arm. He wouldn’t acknowledge that times are changing. However, tonight has been the only instance he had felt his life shifting  —from the way he reunited with Y/N, to the way his mother spoke. It was a step forward to redemption, and he felt a little more willing to see where it would go.

The boy sat on his bed, deep in thought. With moonlight shining upon him, he delicately traced the golden lines that streaked the small bowl in his hands. Then with much hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and began tracing the blaring curves of the mark that stained his porcelain skin. Its presence resembled shackles that have been chained to his ankles, and the weight of the memories caused him to grimace. However the budding warmth that had seeped within him soothed the negative sensations. Heart palpitations of regret transformed into those of hope. Furthermore, recollection of the girl’s words rang through his mind. It led him to wonder if piecing himself into something better would ever be a viable reality—a dream so tempting to pursue that he brought himself to his desk to start a letter addressed to her.

--

Y/N awoke to a tapping noise on her window. With heavy-lidded eyes, she peeks through her curtains only to be met by an eagle owl. Its wide orbs stared directly at her, and attached to its beak was an envelope. She recalled the conversation she had with a certain platinum-haired boy from the night before, and immediately jolted upward, pushing the window open to let the animal in.

“Do you belong to Draco, love?” It perches itself on her shoulder, and drops the envelope into her hands. A wax seal presents itself with an ‘M’, confirming her inquiry. She opens it with much carefulness, and pulls out the letter inside.

Y/L/N,

How does this Thursday sound? 5:00?

DM

The girl chuckled at how straight-to-the-point he was, while her mind flitted back to their school days. She had always felt neutral about him. In contrast to popular belief, she didn’t think he was quite bad. Despite the harshness behind his actions, his eyes always maintained an undertone of fear. Upon the revelation that the boy was indeed a death eater, the title itself wasn’t what stirred her. Rather, it was the incomprehensible experience that she could merely picture him going through. She was there when he crossed sides. She was no stranger to the distraught look on his face--fear had overtaken him even in that moment. He might’ve been flawed, but it wasn’t without reason.

A cry from the owl broke her out of thought. “Impatient are we?” It blinked in response. Not wanting to keep the bird waiting any longer, she pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to write a response to the letter. 

Y/N inserted the parchment into an envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the owl only after she gave it a treat. As she watched it take flight from her window sill, she contemplated more on the boy. ‘Kintsugi’ the art of broken pieces and precious scars. As thoughts of him lingered, she began to wonder if how he fared ever since the war had drawn to its close. Before she knew it, she carried along with her work, totally occupied with the image of him in mind.

--

Draco’s heart beat like a drum when he skimmed through the contents of Y/N’s response. The feeling of nervous excitement erupted within his stomach up until the moment he stood on her doorstep. Besides the instances in which he’d gone out for his parents, it had been a long while since he stepped foot outside for himself. He took sight of the sheet of clouds that blanketed the sky, the small plants that were scattered on her porch, and the movement of the curtain as wind blew through her open window. 

Mere seconds of waiting were filled with more self-doubt as he tugged on his left sleeve, clenching his forearm soon after. Not much could be guaranteed from this meeting. For all he knew, this might’ve been a one a time thing. However, such thoughts were casted aside once he was greeted with Y/N’s glowing smile.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you!” She stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

The boy greets her, and looks around her small space. He indulges in the glimpse of her expressive decor--somehow they represented the life that she had built and created for herself over time. 

“Darling, your jaw is going to fall off,” she chuckled, “Come, the studio is in the back.” The girl gestures at him to follow her, and is met with a small building stationed behind the main house. The image of shelves fills his view upon entering. On them were stacks of cracked ceramic—some in large pieces, others in small. Towards the far corner of the room was a pottery wheel, and opposite from it was a small gas kiln. In the middle was a table space with various tools, brushes, lacquer, and gold. The room was as neat as it could be, much to Draco’s surprise.

“This is me.” Y/N turns around with her arms spread out. She then proceeds to pull a stool out for the boy and urges him to sit. He does so, and she stands in close proximity to him, leaning on the table for support.

“I was actually working on a piece before you came.” The girl points to her current project—a vase whose cracks have already been bound.

“What’s the process like?” He asks

“It’s much longer than you think. I learned how to do it the traditional way in Japan, and I haven’t deviated from it ever since.” The boy quirks a brow.

“You mean to say that there are faster methods?”

“There are, however it’s the process I appreciate the most I suppose. Mending takes time after all.” Y/N, who had been looking down at her feet, glances up at him to see his brows furrowed inwardly. 

“Don’t you get impatient?” She nods in reminiscence.

“I used to in the past, but all things worth anything take time, right?” They stare at each other for a moment. Draco, who has longed for the feeling of redemption, looked into the pure intent within her eyes. The silence prompts her to slip a small smile at him. 

“How about you, Draco Malfoy? How have you been?” There it was: The question that he could never answer (not truthfully anyway). Despite being in the center of all his thoughts, he hadn’t developed the courage to face them properly. He was stuck in a routine of living that provided a false sense of security. However, the present brought him to the realization that he had never been secure--not with himself.

“Not as good as what people see at face value.” He said simply.

“I never would’ve thought. Although, I suppose it just shows that we can never truly judge others, huh?”

“Yes, definitely.” He allowed his view on her to linger before speaking again.

“I actually wanted to see the way you worked.” It was her turn to quirk a brow at him.

“And why’s that?”

“To see the mending process.” Y/N remained silent as she analyzed the longing look in his eyes. His silvery orbs conveyed volumes of a history that was left unspoken. 

He continued, “I want to believe that broken things can be mended.” The determination in his eyes reminded her of why she began learning kintsugi in the first place. Behind the determination was hope that longed to be born to fruition. 

“I have one condition,” she said. His eyebrows arched in response.

“You can watch me, but you have to do some mending yourself.” She stepped away at the end of her statement and reached for something on her shelves. When she came back, she grabbed the boy’s hand, and placed a small bowl in his palm. It was a simple piece--still intact--taking on a warm, grey sheen. He looked at her with confusion, only to be met with seriousness. 

“Kintsugi begins when something breaks, and it focuses more on the beauty of the process rather than the outcome. That being said, it requires a lot of patience and acceptance.”

“I’m not an artist, Y/N. It won’t be perfect.” The girl takes hold of his other hand, and cups it within hers firmly. 

“It doesn’t have to be, Draco. The process belongs to you. You just have to trust yourself.” She said earnestly with her grip on him tightening. The warmth from her hands emanated through his skin and into his chest. She stood so close now, her head tilted upward to meet the uncertainty on his face. It made him feel vulnerable, but he stared back into her eyes with much resolve. It was an answer as it is.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile and stepped away from him.

“I want you to drop that bowl. You don’t have to smash it, just let it fall.” Draco shifted his glance and looked at the bowl hesitantly. After a couple of seconds, he releases his hold, and allows the piece to slip from his fingers. His eyes were trained on it as it fell through the air, meeting its fate with a shattering sound. The bowl that was once intact was now in pieces on the floor, eliciting a familiar ache within him. It had split into five--a large one, one medium, and three more that were much smaller that comprised the object's rim.

As he bent down to pick up the pieces, a new wave of ambition overcame him. Each chip was picked up with much mindfulness, with responsibility, with purpose. When he stood up again, he began to perceive them as a reflection of himself, and gently placed them on the workbench.

Y/N, who witnessed the entire scene, smiled when Draco turned to face her. Her lips were pulled up gently, sweetly, and it evoked rosy feelings inside him. The boy eyed her as she went back to the shelf.

“How do you feel?” She asked. Her back was turned to him as she reached for another bowl. 

“Light.” She smiled at the sound of his response. She returned with a teal-colored bowl in hand. Following his previous actions, she dropped it, allowing the sounds of shatters to fill their ears once more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“You think I’m going to make you do this alone?” The girl bends down as she gingerly picks up the chips of ceramic from the floor. She proceeds to clear out the table, leaving only the utensils to be used to start the process. 

“The materials I use are already here, but we’ll be working only with the lacquer for today.” The two set off to organize their pieces, hearts becoming more aware of one another as time passes on. After everything got sorted out, she demonstrated layering a coat of lacquer to the edges. Draco examined the way the smile instantly left her face, only to be replaced with a focused expression. Her eyebrows lowered, lips in a firm line, sights fixed on the ceramic. He also noticed how languid her fingers were in handling each piece with care. 

The solemnity of the sight is broken as she parts her lips to speak again, “Did you know that the lacquer is toxic?” He shakes his head when she spares him a glance momentarily before setting her gaze back onto the chips. “It’s toxic when wet, therefore much care needs to be taken when you lay it on the edges.” She then takes the smaller pieces and proceeds to add lacquer on them as well.

“However,” She continues, “as it dries, it hardens and mends the bowl perfectly.” She attaches the pieces together, and lifts the bowl carefully to show him. The boy stares at her flawless handiwork--the cracks reveal themselves as mere lines, seemingly invisible to the naked eye. 

“Strange, right? A substance that was once toxic is used to mend. When it dries it restores the product to perfection, and loses its toxicity.” Draco simply nods. It was a hard concept for the boy to grasp, but her words tickled a corner of his heart. How could something so bad be used to restore something that was once whole into perfection? He gazes at his own project while Y/N sets hers down carefully.

She passes the materials to him, observing as he gingerly takes the brush in hand. He dips it into the pool of lacquer, raising a glob of it up from the bottle.

“You don’t need too much, just enough so that the brush is covered completely.” She reached out to grab his hand, to demonstrate what she had meant. After realizing their closeness, however, she turned a shade of pink and stepped back. Draco tried his best to hold back his smile, but failed miserably.

“I’m s-sorry.” She stammered. He chuckled at her. 

“Nonsense, I’m all for this form of instruction.” He said teasingly, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Don’t mind me, just concentrate.” She ordered. Silence loomed, but smiles remained on their faces. Draco continued his work, emulating the way she coated her edges. He gripped each chip firmly while his eyes trailed the movement of the brush. Each second spent felt like darkness was being extracted from within, leaving him light and solemn. With much caution, he then pressed them together, and watched as the product adopted its once flawless form. With an approving look, Y/N explained the proceeding steps, immediately noticing the relaxed expression that had settled on his features. Deciding to take a break, the two embark to the main house to relax.

“Since we have to wait a while, is there anything you want to do? To eat?” She asked as they entered the room. The question, however, was left unanswered due to the sighting of a familiar looking uniform. Hung on her wall was a Ravenclaw robe.  

“You still have it?” He asked, pointing to the article of clothing with his chin. She chuckled and pulled it off it’s hanger.

“Yeah. I found it a couple days ago, and thought I’d try it for old times sake.” She slipped it over her shoulders, pulling the boy through a series of flashbacks from his time in Hogwarts. He recalled passing her by the hallways, getting small glimpses of her sketches, even seeing her vibrant personality shine with her friends.

“You know, I always thought you looked better in green.” He said approaching her.

“You think so?” He nodded.

“It’s a shame that we never really talked much. I think we would’ve been good friends.” She said in response.

“You think so?” 

“Well besides the bullying, yes. I don’t think you’re as bad as people portray you to be.” 

“You give me too much credit, Y/L/N.”

“Maybe you deserve a little more credit than you were granted.” This sparked more warmth within the boy. As she ordered food for delivery, Draco took a seat at her table, his gaze locked on her with the robe still propped on her body. His thoughts drifted as he imagined what might’ve happened if he did befriend the girl. How different would he be if he had her for company? How close would he have allowed their friendship to become? His mind began to wander and he ruminated on the what-could-have-beens, most especially the effect that his receiving of the dark mark would have had on her. His fingers flitted to his arm and rubbed the portion of fabric that covered his mark.

Y/N sat across from the boy, immediately noticing his dazed look.

“What’s on your mind?” She inquires. The boy broke off from his thoughts and refocused his attention to her.

“Just thinking about the past.”

“What of it?” She asked. He looked at her with slight reservation in his eyes.

“How different things would be if we were friends.” Her thoughts lingered on the possibilities for a while before she abandoned them completely. Only one realization came into mind:

“Well, we’re friends now. Perhaps everything that happened in the past was needed for us to meet like this.” She slid off her robe and propped it back on the hanger. 

She continued, “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now belongs to us.” 

In that moment, a switch flipped in Draco’s mind, and he knew those words would stick to him for a long time. Maybe it wasn’t a chance at redemption that he yearned for--the conversation he had with her made him realize that the chance had always been presented to him--rather it was company. Genuine company. The one that opened their arms for comfort, the one that offered understanding when he couldn’t offer some to himself, the one that provided reassurance that everything was going to be okay. 

She didn’t need to elaborate. Her words conveyed her intent clearly, her eyes blazed with firmness, confidence, and faith in him. The boy closed himself off for way too long out of the fear that he’d be rejected once again. The anxieties that had resulted from the foul glances, derogatory statements, and prematurely formed accusations towards his family locked him away to the only source of comfort that was available to him--himself. How was it possible that he made it through on his own all this time? He barely held on to a thread, and as he crumbled further, so did his grip. And when the grip was no more, he fell into the hollowed body that he was. He allowed his darkness to swallow him, to control him as he mindlessly drifted with each passing day. 

Until now.

Right now, in the stillness of the room, in the comfort of her dining table, in the presence of her worn out Ravenclaw robe, the thread had reconstructed itself. It presented itself as the small smile that softly graced her lips, the scent of clay that lingered on her hands, and his bowl that sat solemnly streaked with cracks in the workshop behind the main house. 

“I suppose you’re right.” The boy showed a smile of relief, which prompted the girl to reach out for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Here’s to our friendship!”

--

There were very few things that Draco cherished in his life: his family and his solitude. As weeks flew by with Y/N’s company, however, he found that his heart was beginning to create space for her as well. It began subtly with the way he silently observed her actions. She catered to each of her pieces with the same amount of dedication--every detail incorporated with mindfulness, with care, and intention. She exerted a similar effort when it came to guiding him. Every step in the process was taught with much patience. Her soft hands would graze his own in attempts to correct his form, to stabilize his shakiness, and to relieve him of the tension that came with his perfectionistic tendencies.

-flashback-

The sound of Draco’s uneven breaths made themselves aware in Y/N’s presence. She had left him alone to tend to his project and herself to her own. Muscle memory led her to scrape off the excess traces of lacquer from the cracks, while the boy fixed his concentration on sanding the surface of his bowl smooth. Scratching noises filled the air, and only became more amplified as minutes ticked onward. It was unfamiliar to the girl--the action itself shouldn’t have required much energy. With a brow arched upward, and her gaze directed towards him, the sight of furrowed brows and tense lines fill her view, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“You’re going to break the bowl at that rate, Draco.” The boy unclenched his jaw and gave Y/N an exasperated look, increasing the volume of her laughter.

“I told you I won’t be perfect.” 

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Y/N asked, as she made her way to his side of the table.

“Some of the excess just won’t budge from its place.” Draco huffed in frustration. She removed the bowl from his grasp, and examined the object. On the other hand, he takes the liberty to step closer to her, his face peering over her shoulder. The heat emanating from his body distracted her, which she responded to by immediately returning her attention to the remnants that resided on its cracks.

“It helps to focus on one spot at a time,” She grabs the crumpled piece of sandpaper laying on the side, and connects its surface to the porcelain. He watches as she uses minimal yet focused motions to scrub at the excess. Slowly but surely the residue clears out, revealing a clean, crisp line. “See?” She turns her head to the side only to be met with his in such close proximity. His breath softly brushes against her skin. His silvery orbs dive deep into her y/e/c ones. The pulses of their heartbeats ring through their ears, and the concentration shifts from the demonstration to one another. 

It’s the apparent flush staining his skin that has her pulling away. 

“Why don’t you try?” She nervously asks. Y/N hands the bowl to the boy, and observes as he attempts to emulate her actions. With motions still stiff and choppy, she finally takes his hand into hers.

“Relax, Draco. You need to be patient with it.” With slender fingers wrapped around the back of his palm, she guides his grip with focused and particular motions. The repetition engrains itself into his muscle memory, and he quickly gets the hang of it. He exhibits relief with every remnant removed. In return, she releases her grip and looks at him with a satisfied expression.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. With perfection constantly being expected of him, the feeling of humility that comes with being a beginner is foreign. He had always been pushed into the limelight--the weight of his family name designates the image of flawlessness, elegance, and poise in all that he did. No room for mistakes. He was required of only the best. So, when he looks at her and gazes at his hands, a genuine smile spreads on his lips. 

The expectation for perfection may have taunted his past, but the realization of his commitment in giving his best brought out a clear sense of victory despite the imperfect process that had been associated with it.

--

Some days are tougher than others. The nightmares make it difficult to get through the night regardless of how infrequent they became. It always resulted in him waking up, broken into a cold sweat. Goosebumps peppered his skin, the hair behind his neck stood straight, and he would gasp for air. With regret once again overcoming him, a weight forms in his throat--it’s impossible to go to sleep now. Moreover, the fear for the lack of a peaceful slumber keeps him wide awake until sunrise, and there is only one word that shouts at him in the back of his mind.

“Mudblood.”

“Mudblood.”

“You filthy mudblood!”

The sayings are coupled with the memory of his back pressed onto the cold, wet, bathroom floor. He could recall the stinging sensations that pricked his body, the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric of his uniform, and the energy that was draining from his spirit. It was the lowest he has ever been--mere moments away from what could’ve been his end. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. There was no one for him to turn to--the warmth of his mother’s arms was so far away, the act of shedding tears was sacrificed to protect his family, and the fact that he was already repulsive in the eyes of others caused his hope to plummet. There wasn’t anyone who he could call his true friend--one he could confide in to relieve the burdens he had faced.

But there was Y/N. The erratic heartbeats that rang against his chest subside when he remembered the firmness within her voice as she cheered for their friendship. The sparkle and reassurance that was displayed within her eyes tickled his heart in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. The soft touch of her hands reminded him that he wasn’t alone. The patience in her voice reminded him that despite all of his shortcomings, there was always hope for change. 

It was then that he’d pluck himself out of bed, and take hold of the ceramic piece that laid prettily on his desk. With deep breaths, he ran his fingers through its golden streaks, allowing the chilled sensation to calm him down. His eyelids would flutter close, and he’d envision her soft smiles, her chipper personality, and the passion that was expressed through her eyes whenever she worked. He’d recall the worn-out Ravenclaw robe hanging on the wall of her dining room, and remember that she was there. She believed in him. She had given him a chance. With his mind set to ease and the morning sun illuminating through the fabric of his curtains, Draco picked up his own broken pieces, and binded himself with the faith she had as the lacquer to keep him together. 

Narcissa and Lucius had noticed subtle changes in the boy. A peaceful light had returned to his silvery eyes, the frown that graced his lips began to fade with time, and the tension that he held in his joints loosened. He treaded the halls with his back upright, his vision trained straight ahead--each step filled with more purpose than the last. They didn’t make it known to him, but the sight brought them much joy.

--

It was a cloudy day when Draco returned to Y/N’s workshop. This time around, however, there’s much more uncertainty and nervousness within him as he stands in the midst of her working. 

Earlier that morning, Narcissa mentioned hosting a ball within the manor (something that hasn’t been done in forever). Invitations were sent out already, the RSVP list continues to grow, and the property itself has been decorated to exhibit its new grandeur. Of course, he agreed to it--slightly concerned about how they’d be perceived--but he was more thrown off by his mother’s only request:

“Please bring Y/N with you, Draco. I’d like to commission her for a piece.” In his mind that translated into, “I want to meet the girl you’ve been constantly visiting.” He knew his mother wasn’t against her. He was more worried about how Y/N, herself, would respond.

The familiarity of her focused expression surfaces, and it attracts him much more than it has before. Her hands are nimble, and she moves fluently. Her hair was tied into a low and messy bun with loose strands framing her face. Her appearance now was much different than their first meeting at the gala, yet his mind went back to that night--picturing her beauty in her deep emerald green dress. With his feelings for her more clarified, he feels his heart beat at the thought of her touch, moreover the thought of his touch on her. Would she even return his feelings? 

“Draco, are you alright? You’ve been staring this way for a while now.” He takes the opportunity to test the waters.

“I needed to ask you something actually.” He goes around and pulls a stool to sit on, meeting the level of her gaze.

“And that is?”

“My mother asked for you,” He said, fumbling with his fingers, “My family is hosting a ball, and she wants you to come--she wants to meet you.” He notices the way her eyes widen at the sound of his announcement. 

“I’m sorry. Come again?” Draco released a soft chuckle before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a decorated envelope with her name printed on the front.

“This is yours.” She takes it from his grasp gingerly and brushes her fingers on the fine embellishments. Realization hits her when she skims across the familiar letters of her name.

“I’ve imagined many things in my life, but they certainly don’t come close to this. Wow, imagine being invited to a Malfoy ball.” Her words flowed out with awe, softening his heart. He reaches out, and tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear. The action forces her to look into his eyes.

“She’s taken quite a liking to your work.” His smile brings out one of her own.

“I’m honored.” She starts to beam, “I should go dress shopping soon.” Her eyes remain transfixed on the information given on the actual invite itself.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything you decide to wear.” It was meant to be a thought--meant to stay in his head--but it came out, and now the girl felt her face get hot. She covered it with her hands, while the boy just looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He says.

“It’s fine.” 

“If it’s fine then why are your hands still covering your face?”

“Why are you still looking up?” Draco, lowers his chin and pulls her wrists away.

“I’m not anymore.” When the words leave his lips, and his eyes meet hers, he becomes aware of the amount of peace that he attained since meeting her again. In some way, the silence that fills them is overtaken by the messages that their gazes send to one another, both containing gratitude and affection. 

“So will you come with me?” He asks.

“Definitely.”

--

 Y/N paced back and forth while many aristocrats stepped into the manor with much poise in their step. She didn’t mind formal events when it came to art, however, this case felt entirely foreign to her realm of comfort. She wasn’t from a wealthy family nor was she pureblooded either. Surely the end of the war had initiated a shift in change, but the significance of blood status still persisted in some even after. Nevertheless, she made herself present. With much resolve and a false sense of confidence, she stepped into the entrance of the building.

The foyer was bustling with chatter--many attendees stood with glasses of champagne in hand. Still in an awkward stature, the girl takes a look around. The ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains were pulled to the side, exposing massive windows. Arches, columns, even the walls were covered with ornamental carvings. Every single aspect portrayed luxury. Whenever Draco visited the girl, she discarded his association to wealth and solely focused on him as a person. Because of this, the realization that the boy actually had some coin in his pockets hit her like bricks. 

Draco, who had kept his eyes locked on the girl, chuckled to himself. She stuck out from the crowd with her eyes widened in awe. Not to mention her attire. Her hair was kept straight down with golden clips holding it tucked behind her ear. Furthermore, she was dressed in a champagne mermaid gown speckled with beads and embroidery, which flourished outwards and into a sheer fabric decorated with similar details. Her neckline plunged into the middle of her abdomen, yet her shoulders remained covered with long sleeves that wrapped themselves fittingly around her wrists. She truly had the tastes of an artist.

He quietly made his way to her as she continued to gawk at the room. “Your jaw is going to drop, darling.” He whispered in her ear. The feeling of large hands planting themselves on her waist caused her to let out a small yelp, pulling her out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief when she turned to see Draco’s face. 

“You scared me.”

“You were gawking at the walls.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and briefly skimmed him from head to toe. Heart skipping at the way his suit had admiringly framed his shape well. She giggled at the sight of the snake brooch that embellished the collar of his jacket.

“Always a Slytherin, aren’t you Malfoy?” As she brushed her fingers along the details of its design, Draco reached for her hand, and held it by her fingers. She could only stare as he lifted it higher to press his lips on it. Butterflies were felt everywhere.

“And a charmer.” She added. They shared a quick laugh before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Standing before them was Narcissa, who beamed at the sight of her son with the girl beside him.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N. I admire your work, dear.” The older woman stuck her hand out, which the girl shook firmly.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa.” The delight in her voice emitted a welcoming energy, loosening the nerves that Y/N felt early on.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Narcissa.” 

“It was no problem at all, dear. I’d actually like to speak to you regarding a commission later on tonight. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course! I’m honored you’d even considered me.”

“Very well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sweet smiles and gazes were exchanged between the two women. After casting a knowing look to her son, she departs from the pair, disappearing into the crowd. 

“Draco, I’ll have you know that I can’t dance to save my life.” He snickered at her confession, already letting the comfort between them settle in.

“It’s alright. Let’s walk instead.” With arms hooked, Draco begins leading her away from the bustling room and into a secluded hall. Mounted on the walls were paintings of his predecessors. He introduced each patriarchal figure to her, starting with Septimus. Her vision plastered itself to their features, mentally discerning the traits that Draco inherited. After a while of walking and conversation, they finally got to a family portrait. Depicted on it was a younger-looking Lucius and Narcissa, and seated on his mother’s lap was a young Draco himself. Y/N unhooked her arm from his, and approached the painting. She concentrated on the little boy. He had bright eyes, a toothy grin, and flowing platinum locks. His hand gripped firmly on Narcissa’s, and his small legs dangled over her dress. He was the only one smiling in the painting, and it warmed your heart knowing that the artist decided to keep that detail in.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He asks, stepping close. He hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist, hoping that she didn’t mind. She looked up to him and smiled, stepping even closer to him. 

“You were so small.” Draco scowled slightly. However, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way she looked at the portrait with adoration, allowing his foul expression to fade.

“Well that was painted when I was seven, so it’s no wonder I was small.” His sarcastic remark caused her to roll her eyes again, softly slapping the hand that was planted on her. He glanced at her and squeezed her side tighter, pulling Y/N even closer to his body--his warmth increasing the amount of butterflies that rose in her stomach.

“When I walked in earlier, it completely slipped my mind that this was your house. That you grew up here.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely interested in her response.

“Everytime you came over, I only saw you as Draco. Not as Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy family name.” 

“Please elaborate.” He commands, his heart now racing.

“You’re more than the expectations held for you. You came with commitment to learn about a process that you were genuinely interested in. You grew with your mistakes and your frustrations. That experience was you, and you alone.” She couldn’t help but reveal that admiration she had for him through her voice. 

“I thought it was amazing.” She whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. He did, however. In turn, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway and into his room. Y/N stood there confused at his sudden action. Her eyes then begin to widen at the sight of him removing his suit jacket with her mind drifting to rather dirty thoughts. 

“Draco, what are you-” 

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?” Draco looked into her eyes, before shifting his gaze to his left sleeve. Her line of sight follows him as he unbuttons his cuff, and rolls the fabric up, revealing his dark mark. She gasps.

“I didn’t think it was possible to mend myself.” It didn’t take him to say much for her to finally understand that he didn’t intend to do anything dirty. It was the opposite of that. He was making himself vulnerable to her.

“But you showed me how.” He said, completing his statement. Tears brimmed her eyes upon the realization of the reality he had to live. The blaring mark that took away his innocence screamed against his pale skin. It screamed of the pain, of loneliness, and the many many long sleeved shirts he must’ve worn to keep it hidden away. 

“If there’s anyone amazing, it’s you, Y/N.” The tears that had built up fell as she furiously shook her head.

“No, Draco. It’s you. It’s all you.” She took his arm delicately into her hands and pressed her lips on his dark mark. Draco felt his eyes well up in tears, while her own spilled onto his skin. Every kiss that she peppered seemed to paint over his scars, his cracks with gold. The feeling of emptiness dissipated in her presence, only surrounding him with warmth that he had yearned to keep.

“I’m thankful for you.” He whispers. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back at that point anymore. She released his arm from her grip, and held his cheeks within her fingertips, wiping the moisture that managed to fall from his silvery orbs. She, then, slowly lifts herself using her tiptoes, and scans his face for a moment before pressing a sweet, short kiss on his lips. It was gentle, much like her. It was patient, much like her. It was filled with faith, hope, and concern--things that she hadn’t been able to express to him in words, yet was felt through her kiss. Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. When she parted from him, he cupped her face with his hands, and drew her close once more. A sigh escaped her as she felt all the emotions he managed to keep in. Each press conveyed a level of appreciation that the boy had never thought he was capable of showing. 

In that moment a memory of a shrill shout fills her mind, and she stops so suddenly.

“Weren’t you struck with sectumsempra?” She asks with her brows furrowed towards him. His lack of response confirms her curiosity. 

“May I?” Her fingers trail to the top of his shirt as she makes her request. Knowing what it is she wants to see, he nods, prompting her to carefully undo the buttons. Her hands tremble as she makes her way down, revealing the scars that resided on his body. She pushes the fabric over his shoulders, and begins tracing each one--much similar to the way he has done with the golden cracks on her bowl. She slowly lowers herself and starts placing kisses where he has been struck. With her hands gently fastened to his sides, her lips linger in one area before transferring to another. He finds comfort in them--it was as if each sensation reassured that he was loved. As she travels upward, she plants a kiss on his jaw, and a final one on his own. With it she expresses a message dedicated only to him: I believe in you.

They separate and bask in the moment by holding each other’s gaze. After a while, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her into a tight embrace. He nuzzles his nose on the crook of her neck and kisses it, while she runs her hands up and down his bare sides. His left hand then finds its way to her jaw, tilting her face upwards. He proceeds to nip the expanse of her neck, making her head fall back to grant him more access. The hand that was wrapped around her waist travels downwards to her hip, grips it, and presses her body against his. 

“Draco,” she moans.

“Hm?” She doesn’t respond. She finds herself completely intoxicated by his lips as he moves from her neck, her sternum, and to her exposed abdomen. Instead, she laced her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer to her skin. 

The pair was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. 

“Young master! Are you in there?” It was a houself. Draco presses a finger to his lips, signalling to remain quiet.

“I don’t think he’s there, we should check elsewhere.” Light footsteps were heard fading into the distance, eliciting a light laugh between the two. Y/N looks into his eyes once more, and kisses him one last time.

“Should we go?” He responds with a small ‘yes’ and kisses her forehead. As he buttons his shirt, the girl plods across his room, fascinated with its luxuriousness as she takes in the details. One of them causes her to gasp, however. She walks with her throat choking up at sight of the familiar bowl that was placed on his desk. It was hers. She lifts it gently, recalling their first conversation at the gala. The golden scars remind her heavily of the boy behind her. As she traces them, warm hands rub against her sides before snaking around her waist once more. 

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Y/N laughs at his question.

“I suppose it does.” She says as she weaves her fingers into his. The boy takes a moment to stare at the bowl ahead.

“When you said that Kintsugi helped you heal, I wasn’t quite sure to believe you or not. But, going through the process was more than enough to make me understand why.”

“You truly are amazing Draco Malfoy. I won’t let anyone tell me you aren’t.”

“Even if my past is completely flawed?”

“Your past made you into who you are right now. What we have is ‘now’, and ‘now’,” she sets the bowl down and faces him, while her hand caresses his cheek. “...‘now’ belongs to us. Now you are amazingly, wonderfully, imperfectly perfect.”

Epilogue:

The sound of Y/N’s words rung in his mind as Draco found himself standing in the middle of her workspace. With a firm grasp on the brush handle, he dips the bristles into the gold liquid, allowing the excess to drip back.

He takes a deep breath, and allows the solemnity of the room to fill him. Many thoughts overtake him in the moment, but only one makes itself prominent to him, resilience. After going through the binding process himself, he pridefully lays down the gold over the cracks on his bowl--each one portraying the imperfections of his past.

A/N: Hi! If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for reading! There’s a bit of inaccuracy in the last bit, but besides that I hope I brought much light to the technique in general. I hope you enjoyed!! Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

Link to the taglist is on my masterlist :D

[andersonsbiceps]

Here’s an unfortunate confession - the 20k Shepard/Saren epic (i looked over it and i ached on AO3) was not my assignment for the gift exchange for which it was written. In fact, it actually got in the way of writing the thing I was supposed to, because I wanted to write it so badly and spent so much time daydreaming about how to put it together. 

This post exists because I put like, twelve layers of meaning into that fic that no one is going to notice or comment on because this ship is a teeny little tugboat and I get the sense that most other people are not on it for complex, fucked up relationships that pretty much demand I write Shepard as the sort of character no one wants to project on. So like, if no one’s going to write the comments that I want, I’m going to sit down and do the analysis myself. Be the change you want to see in the world.

So, as far as meaning goes, I figure I’ll start with the characters. Everyone who’s got a POV in this fic is an unreliable narrator in their own special way. 

(Carolina) Shepard’s got a very clear idea of what’s going on in her own head, but she’s prone to making snap judgements about other people and then not changing them until it becomes stupidly obvious that she’s wrong. She doesn’t clock that Saren likes her (even as a friend or a colleague!) for literal years after that becomes a thing, and assumes he’s experiencing mental health issues for the same reasons she might in his shoes and not, you know, reaper mind control.

An example of this that didn’t make it into the story was Shepard worrying about Saren isolating himself from his family and friends. That’s not something she’s wrong to worry about, it IS a direct result of reaper mind control, but Shepard notices it mostly because self-isolation is a very bad thing for her for very different reasons. She’s naturally a more social creature than Saren is, so her mental health is much more dependent on having people she can talk to.

Back to POVs, Anderson is a lot more levelheaded and generally honest than the other two, but he’s got his own problems. Namely, he’s biased. Anderson likes Shepard, because he’s pretty obviously her favorite person (if you want evidence of that, look at how she responds to criticism from Anderson vs criticism from Saren), and who doesn’t like being favored? That means he tends to see her as a better person than she actually is, and often gives her more credit than she deserves. On the flipside, he does not like Saren, because Saren is pretty much constantly a dick to both him and Shepard, so he tends to be more cynical about his motivations and capabilities.

An example of THIS that didn’t make it into the story was the outright confirmation that Anderson doesn’t approve of Shepard/Saren because he thinks Shepard (a certified dumpster fire in reality) is way too good for that evil turian man. Anderson would definitely have given Saren a shovel talk if the two of them had ever made it that far!

And speaking of Saren, he’s definitely the worst narrator of the bunch. Almost every other line in his internal monologue is a straight up lie. I tried to highlight this by having him outright contradict himself several times, but who knows if that came through. I’m pretty sure his self-deceptions in canon are meant to be a result of Sovereign messing with him, but he’s doing a lot of stuff here (i.e. getting significantly attached to a human, attempting to destroy the galaxy) that contradicts his self-image. He’s not really got the resources to properly cope with this, so he lies to himself about it. It’s easier, you know. 

Saren doesn’t have a whole lot of cut content, for the same reason he doesn’t have a lot of POVs - as much fun as it is to write a character that’s lying to themself, it’s kind of a pain to get across an accurate picture of what’s going on when they do that, and also the kind of POV you don’t want to write when they’re not doing something they would lie about. Saren doesn’t lie to himself about what brand of broccoli he’s buying at the corner store, but I don’t want to give the reader the impression they can trust the stuff he says, so if he did get groceries in this fic, he wouldn’t get to narrate it.

I very much wanted the central couple of the fic to stand on even footing (which is most of the reason behind the Shepard+Anderson roleswap - I’m not a huge fan of age gaps). That means that I put a fair bit of effort into establishing that they’re roughly the same level of fucked up. Saren lies to himself pretty much constantly, Shepard lies to everyone else whenever she’s not making a conscious effort to be sincere. Saren is paranoid and hostile (especially to people who are trying to help him!), Shepard likes to provoke people and has no compunctions about manipulating them. Saren thinks the ends justify the means, no matter how many lives those means cost, and Shepard just straight up defaults to murder whenever she’s not sure how to solve a problem (I think she contemplates killing someone three times in this fic, something no other narrator does).

Ironically, this means that without reaper interference, Saren would actually be the more mentally stable of the two of them. Shepard would probably still deal with indoctrination better though - she’s self aware enough to notice when something’s messing with her head, and she wouldn’t rest until either the reaper was dead or she was.

On a less depressing interpersonal note, I had a lot of fun with the pseudo-nuclear family dynamic of Shepard, Saren, Anderson, and Nihlus. Like, obviously everyone here is a grown adult and Anderson and Nihlus both have actual parents, but I had a fun time sort of evoking the idea that Shepard and Saren were co-parenting (co-mentoring?) their respective protegees. Saren is absolutely Anderson’s evil stepdad (step-mentor?)!

I also liked writing Anderson’s major relationships. I wanted to give the impression that he was the Commander Shepard character - the universe revolves around him, even if the story is about someone else. His feelings about Shepard, Saren, and Nihlus are as much the focal relationship of the story as the Shepard/Saren stuff - even though the narrative does hinge more on the latter one. 

Stuff I didn’t like so much - you’ll notice that there’s a lot of stuff that didn’t make it into the story. That’s because I didn’t really start this fic until my assignment was done, which means I wrote all 20,000 words in roughly two weeks (about 40% of it was written in two eight hour car rides). I didn’t really have a chance to go back over the story and revise the plot to align with my original ideas for the story.  Nihlus is really more a conversation device than a character a lot of the time, and if I ever did go back over and rewrite this that would be the first thing I fix. I didn’t have time to get this thing betaed either, since it was scraping so many deadlines, and man would I have loved to have someone else to bounce this story off of before I posted it.

Still, I’m glad I got it done. I’m not kidding in the author’s note when I mention that I’ve been wanting to write the Shepard/Saren tragedy fic for years and years.

[scifigeneration]

We asked artificial intelligence to analyze a graphic novel – and found both limits and new insights

by Leonie Hintze and Arend Hintze

What can an algorithm find when it reads a book? Vasilyev Alexandr/Shutterstock.com

With one spouse studying the evolution of artificial and natural intelligence and the other researching the language, culture and history of Germany, imagine the discussions at our dinner table. We often experience the stereotypical clash in views between the quantifiable, measurement-based approach of natural science and the more qualitative approach of the humanities, where what matters most is how people feel something, or how they experience or interpret it.

We decided to take a break from that pattern, to see how much each approach could help the other. Specifically, we wanted to see if aspects of artificial intelligence could turn up new ways to interpret a nonfiction graphic novel about the Holocaust. We ended up finding that some AI technologies are not yet advanced and robust enough to deliver useful insights – but simpler methods resulted in quantifiable measurements that showed a new opportunity for interpretation.

Choosing a text

A graphic novel examined by artificial intelligence. Reinhard Kleist/Self Made Hero

There is plenty of research available that analyzes large bodies of text, so we chose something more complex for our AI analysis: Reinhard Kleist’s “The Boxer,” a graphic novel based on the true story of how Hertzko “Harry” Haft survived the Nazi death camps. We wanted to identify emotions in the facial expressions of the main character displayed in the book’s illustrations, to find out if that would give us a new lens for understanding the story.

In this black-and-white cartoon, Haft tells his horrific story, in which he and other concentration camp inmates were made to box each other to the death. The story is written from Haft’s perspective; interspersed throughout the narrative are panels of flashbacks depicting Haft’s memories of important personal events.

The humanities approach would be to analyze and contextualize elements of the story, or the tale as a whole. Kleist’s graphic novel is a reinterpretation of a 2009 biographical novel by Haft’s son Allan, based on what Allan knew about his father’s experiences. Analyzing this complex set of authors’ interpretations and understandings might serve only to add another subjective layer on top of the existing ones.

From the perspective of science philosophy, that level of analysis would only make things more complicated. Scholars might have differing interpretations, but even if they all agreed, they would still not know if their insight was objectively true or if everyone suffered from the same illusion. Resolving the dilemma would require an experiment aimed at generating a measurement others could reproduce independently.

Reproducible interpretation of images?

Rather than interpreting the images ourselves, subjecting them to our own biases and preconceptions, we hoped that AI could bring a more objective view. We started by scanning all the panels in the book. Then we ran Google’s vision AI and Microsoft AZURE’s face recognition and emotional character annotation as well.

The algorithms we used to analyze “The Boxer” were previously trained by Google or Microsoft on hundreds of thousands of images already labeled with descriptions of what they depict. In this training phase, the AI systems were asked to identify what the images showed, and those answers were compared with the existing descriptions to see if the system being trained was right or wrong. The training system strengthened the elements of the underlying deep neural networks that produced correct answers, and weakened the parts that contributed to wrong answers. Both the method and the training materials – the images and annotations – are crucial to the system’s performance.

Then, we turned the AI loose on the book’s images. Just like on “Family Feud,” where the show’s producers ask 100 strangers a question and count up how many choose each potential answer, our method asks an AI to determine what emotion a face is showing. This approach adds one key element often missing when subjectively interpreting content: reproducibility. Any researcher who wants to check can run the algorithm again and get the same results we did.

Unfortunately, we found that these AI tools are optimized for digital photographs, not scans of black-and-white drawings. That meant we did not get much reliable data about the emotions in the pictures. We were also disturbed to find that none of the algorithms identified any of the images as relating to the Holocaust or concentration camps – though human viewers would readily identify those themes. Hopefully, that is because the AIs had problems with the black-and-white images themselves, and not because of negligence or bias in their training sets or annotations.

Bias is a well-known phenomenon in machine learning, which can have really offensive results. An analysis of these images based solely on the data we got would not have discussed or acknowledged the Holocaust, an omission that is against the law in Germany, among other countries. These flaws highlight the importance of critically evaluating new technologies before using them more widely.

Finding other reproducible results

Determined to find an alternative way for quantitative approaches to help the humanities, we ended up analyzing the brightness of the pictures, comparing flashback scenes to other moments in Haft’s life. To that end, we quantified the brightness of the scanned images using image analysis software.

We found that throughout the book, emotionally happy and light phases like his prison escape or Haft’s postwar life in the U.S. are shown using bright images. Traumatizing and sad phases, such as his concentration camp experiences, are shown as dark images. This aligns with color psychology identifications of white as a pure and happy tone, and black as symbolizing sadness and grief.

Having established a general understanding of how brightness is used in the book’s images, we looked more closely at the flashback scenes. All of them depicted emotionally intense events, and some of them were dark, such as recollections of cremating other concentration camp inmates and leaving the love of his life.

We were surprised, however, to find that the flashbacks showing Haft about to punch opponents to death were bright and clear – suggesting he is having a positive emotion about the upcoming fatal encounter. That’s the exact opposite of what readers like us probably feel as they follow the story, perhaps seeing Haft’s opponent as weak and realizing that he is about to be killed. When the reader feels pity and empathy, why is Haft feeling positive?

The middle image in this sequence shows an example of a bright flashback. Reinhard Kleist/Self Made Hero

This contradiction, found by measuring the brightness of pictures, may reveal a deeper insight into how the Nazi death camps affected Haft emotionally. For us, right now, it is unimaginable how the outlook of beating someone else to death in a boxing match would be positive. But perhaps Haft was in such a desperate situation that he saw hope for survival when facing off against an opponent who was even more starved than he was.

Using AI tools to analyze this piece of literature shed new light on key elements of emotion and memory in the book – but they did not replace the skills of an expert or scholar at interpreting texts or pictures. As a result of our experiment, we think that AI and other computational methods present an interesting opportunity with the potential for more quantifiable, reproducible and maybe objective research in the humanities.

It will be challenging to find ways to use AI appropriately in the humanities – and all the more so because current AI systems are not yet sophisticated enough to work reliably in all contexts. Scholars should also be alert to potential biases in these tools. If the ultimate goal of AI research is to develop machines that rival human cognition, artificial intelligence systems may need not only to behave like people, but understand and interpret feelings like people, too.

About The Authors:

Leonie Hintze is a Ph.D. Student in Linguistics & Germanic, Slavic, Asian and African Languages at Michigan State University and Arend Hintze is an Assistant Professor of Integrative Biology & Computer Science and Engineering, also at Michigan State University

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

[utopianparadoxist]

Xefros Tritoh is a Page of Time. also, class roleplay is real.

I’m still too sick to record for the Joey video, so while I don’t have the time to make a full-scale analysis post on everything about Xefros right now (theres a lot) I figured I’d make two crucial things about reading his character clear:

A) Xefros’ unhealthy relationship with Dammek is the latest example yet of unhealthy Class Roleplay dynamics. If anyone remembers, I speculated weeks ago, before the game dropped, that Xefros’ relationship to the role of Butlering might well turn out to be both unhealthy for him and reflective of Classpect behavior. As it turns out, I seem to have been correct. Specifically, Xefros is roleplaying a Knight through his unwilling assignment of the role of the Butler. B) Xefros is a Page of Time.

Let’s explore them in order, considerably more briskly than with the Joey post. There’s more to say about Xefros, obviously, but unfortunately, I just don’t have the....

Time.  Something I have in common with Xefros, fittingly enough.

Xefros’ general lack of time to keep up with the various demands on his time--mostly Dammek’s demands on his time--is a strong focus point of his character.

And just in case we’re not super sold on it yet, Xefros does us the Time-saving  courtesy of establishing his relationship to the aspect by reinforcing Time’s longstanding relationship to music and rhythm! How nice of you, Xefros. 

Now where were we?

Right. Xefros has a lot on his plate: Band practice, revolutionary lectures, butler practice, and only the occasional reverie about getting to spend time on something Xefros himself finds interesting.

And most of that time is lost in various forms of service to Dammek. Serve is, at this point, basically inarguably the key verb for the Knight/Page class pair--combining connotations of providing service/help, dealing defeats/ownage/sick burns, and literally serving/giving items to others, as the verb counterparts to Thieves/Rogues’ ‘Steal/Take’. 

So Xefros’ unhealthy position of servitude to Dammek is explicitly linked to his unwanted, forced assignment of the role of Butler--which in Homestuck terms loosely correlates to the role of Knight. Dave’s biggest contribution to his session is to serve all his friends time or provide them with resources through the use of his time, for example. 

But where doing so comes naturally to Dave, for Xefros it is an effort to play the role. Xefros does not find butlering fulfilling, and he’s not particularly good at it, either--it’s not where his natural talents shine. 

This is a common thread with most kinds of class roleplay--it usually doesn’t work out well for a player character to pretend to be something they’re not. 

Perhaps particularly so when the role the character is playing encourages them to adopt the opposite class alignment, as when an ACTIVE player is conditioned into acting PASSIVELY. This line comes from Xefros’ FLARP book, by the way, which has a bunch of Classpect references. Fitting, since FLARP is what introduces us to the concept of Class Roleplay in Homestuck proper.

Because this line kind of has to be taken in context. The truth is, Xefros would rather be playing a game.  And it’s in the context of that game, along with Xefros’ childhood and natural effect on others, that we’ll find references to his true classpect, buried under the burden of the imposed Butler role. 

Pages, like Knights, are linked to the image of the Butler--but not as players who fill the role themselves. Rather, Pages seem to have a talent for inspiring other players to act as Butlers for them. Or to close the ouroboros loop of classpecting: To get others to act as their Knights.

Xefros’ affinity for Arena Stickball immediately strikes this echo, as one of the things Xefros immediately remembers is having his Brawler defending him-- a relationship echoed by Tavros’ affinity for using animals as his warriors, and Jake’s summoning of a splinter of Dirk to protect him from Aranea. 

Xefros’ demeanor quickly turns around an overwhelmed and exhausted Joey, making her quickly grow concerned and then adamant about helping him in return for his own kindness. 

This ability of Pages to inspire others around them to want to help them is part of the reason why I think it’s likely Dammek’s concern for him is at least somewhat genuine--though that’s by no means the same as healthy. Vriska’s concern for Tavros was genuine, too, lest we forget.

And Xefros is prone to both Giving things to others and trying to make others happy in ways that ultimately turn out to benefit him. This comes through clearest with Sloth Dad, whom Xefros would give gifts or receive food from whilst always benefiting from the arrangement in some way. 

Xefros’ first cuebat, his physical strength, and open passage from his house are all things achieved by giving. But past the key verbs, Xefros’ clearest indication for both his class of Page and his aspect of Time come through in his relationship to his ancestral figure: Xultan Matzos. 

Xefros’ text logs on Xultan are drowning in both references to Time and a profound personal admiration. He likens Xefros to a figure from history, imagines convoluted alt-timeline crossovers featuring various versions of Xultan, fantasizes about having the kind of psychic power Xultan had, and more. 

He also admits to fantasizing about just imagining Xultan standing around, believing in him. This fits Xultan squarely into the archetype of the Pages’ imaginary friend, a slot filled by Rufioh for Tavros, and Brain Ghost Dirk for Jake. 

Perhaps most telling, however, is his imitation of Xultan--a copycat approach to self-improvement that Xefros credits with at least occasional success! This has common ground with Homestuck’s Pages too, as Tavros ultimately finds narrative success as he fully embodies his imitation of the role of Peter Pan. 

Jake English also famously copies female action movie tropes in both fashion choices and his eventual fall into the damsel in distress trope, whereby it’s his imagination and faith that Dirk can save him that saves the day. 

And finally, Xefros’ copying habit and Page role are referenced in a two-for-one reference combo, through Joey’s persistent early habit of calling him Xerox. 

In the 90′s, Xerox (Logo pictured above) was the colloquial term for both a product and the company that produced it. Particularly, Xerox was a popular brand of photocopier, meaning a machine designed to copy text and images onto a blank Page. 

I haven’t come close to covering half of what I want to say about Xefros, but I hope this will at least give the rest of the fandom an idea of how he’s set up.  Just for the record, I don’t think the X on Pa’s globe was pointing at Dammek. 

Particularly given Pa’s own status as a Page, Joey’s budding friednship with one puts us in a very interesting position. How will Xefros and Joey’s personalities mesh in the long run, and is Xefros involved in whatever plans Pa seems to have devised?

Interesting questions to consider as we wait for Act 2. 

If you’d like to enable me to expand on this subject, and so bring more questions like these to light in the future, please consider throwing a couple bucks my way on Patreon. This is basically definitely my last written post for a good while, as I am going on hiatus to get my financial life in order as detailed in this post. 

I’m really overwhelmed and grateful by the support so many have shown me, and excited to take posts like the one I did on Joey and this one to Youtube, where more of the fandom can engage with classpects in an accessible way!

You can also feel free to drop by and chat about this and other interesting Hiveswap and Homestuck topics in the r/Hiveswap discord! 

Hope to see you soon, and until then--Keep Rising!

[Patreon] [Hiveswap Discord]

[scottcrone-blog]

Sales Tips From An Unlikely Source

This may just be the strangest article you have ever read on sales and customer service. My story revolves around an unlikely tutor, a liquid waste technician. You may know it more colloquially as a “honey wagon” man.

I live in the country and as such do not have access to municipal water or sewer service. For people who live in the “sticks”, we use septic tanks to handle all our waste water from sinks, showers and toilets. Septic tanks, depending on the size of the house and people in it, generally need to be pumped out every three to five years. My tank was due and I called the same guy who had serviced it for the past 12 years.

Pumping out septic tanks is not the most glamorous job there is. Nor do I imagine there is a line-up of people clamouring to take it on as a career. The profession can attract a variety of characters with varying degrees of professionalism. My particular septic serviceman has consistently impressed me. I think of myself first as a “sales guy,” I am always thrilled when I receive great service in a store. Conversely I have a short wick for people that deliver poor service or act as “order takers”.

I’ve been telling my septic guy for years that I could do an instructional video on him. If the gang from the Fish video could make it work – surely my guy would be worthy. Unfortunately he doesn’t want the attention or fame. For the purposes of this story I will keep him anonymous.

I have tried to break down his approach to seven steps. These steps are so basic and common-sense to the sales process that they often are overlooked.

Step One: Pre-visit qualification and expectation setting

When I phoned in the request for service, his staff asked me some pre-qualifying questions just to make sure they were truly needed or if it was a simple fix that I hadn’t considered. This built trust as I knew they weren’t quick to just grab my money regardless of need. After it was determined that I did indeed need a pumping out, they arranged the first available time and I was given a window of when to expect him to my house. Secondly, I was told to clear the openings to the septic tank so that it would be ready and he could efficiently deal with my problem. It meant a little shovel work on my behalf; I needed the exercise.

How many of us go to meetings or pitches only to find out the prospect really didn’t need what we were selling? Asking a few questions ahead of time eliminates that risk. As well, good questions provide great insight as to what the prospect may need and you can tailor your visit accordingly. Setting expectations prior to the call is critical. If you need your prospect to have certain documentation ready or whatever the case may be – it will save you time and make the meeting run much more smoothly.

Step Two: Make a great first impression

Many septic tank pumping services embrace the whimsical and have fun with what they do. You’ll see funny slogans on their trucks like “Honey Wagon” or “Stool Bus” and the ever popular “We’re #1 with #2.” But not my guy, he played it straight – because that works for him. I’m not saying don’t be funny, but do what works for you.

My septic guy shows up and his truck is pristine. It glistened in the sunlight. The paint, the chrome it all sparkled. Not a trace of dirt anywhere. And when he stepped out of his truck he was wearing navy blue pants and a crisp white shirt with his name on it. There were embroidered patches of the Canadian and American flags over his left shirt pocket. Viewed from a distance he could have passed for a naval officer. My first thought was, “this guy is serious and takes his business seriously.” So ask yourself, what do your prospects or clients think when they first see you? Do you project the image you need to? Are people left with the impression that you deserve their business?

My septic guy greets me with a firm handshake and presents me with his business card, as would a lawyer, real estate agent, insurance broker, or any other professional for that matter. He then put on a pair of white cotton gloves and got me to show him where my tank was.

Step Three: Make a connection

I remember the first time I met my septic guy, he was asking me all sorts of questions. What did I do for a living, how long have I lived at my current home, where did I come from, etc. He was trying to find commonality and wanted to understand me better. As well, he did something really important; he kept using my name during our chat. As Dale Carnegie noted in his book “How to win friends and influence people,” there is no sweeter sounding word than that of your own name.

Another tactic he used was the compliment. He told me what a beautiful home I had. Compliments used sparingly endear you to your prospects or clients. Shower your clients with too many compliments and they look insincere.

Step Four: Leave your client smarter

While pumping out my tank, the septic guy pointed out a build-up of residue left behind by certain detergents. He asked me what I used in the dishwasher and laundry. Apparently my brands were known to leave behind heavier build-up and could impact the effectiveness of my tank. He took a moment to educate me on the virtues of some other brands of detergent that would not have such a detrimental impact on my tank and were better for the environment.

I came across some research that indicated that 61% of insurance consumers said that it was very important to get advice or have their policy explained to them. Again, something simple but educating your clients adds value and elevates you in their eyes as a professional. Don’t just be an order taker – share your knowledge with the people you serve.

Step Five: Give 100% and ensure satisfaction:

Most septic tank pumpers would normally come in, drain 98% of the tank and be on their way. Not my guy! He not only drained it but he hosed down the interior and made sure every last trace of sewage was removed. He didn’t have to do this but it was almost as if he was compelled by some obsessive compulsive urge to leave my tank spotless. It quite literally looked as clean as the day it was installed. He almost giggled when he said “we’ll put a sparkle on it for ya!”

He was thorough and wanted to make sure I was happy with what he had done before he closed up the lid again.

Too many sales and service people are quick to grab the sale and run. Buyer’s remorse can be a killer in sales. A statistic provided by AutoTrader.com: 69% of consumers have experienced buyer’s remorse after purchasing a vehicle. That is a shockingly high rate of people who questioned their purchase. Determine what your client’s needs are early on in your meeting so that you can sell to that need. When concluding, be sure to review those needs and how you meet all of them or at least most of them.

Step Six: Promote others

As we were wrapping things up, I mentioned that I had an electrical issue and did he know of anyone who could fix it. With lightning speed my septic guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of business cards and he thumbed his way through the stack and pulled one out. He said, “Give this man a call, he knows what he is doing and won’t rip you off. Tell him I sent you.” He also had cards for contractors, plumbers and anyone else related to concerns I might have with regards to home ownership. He was so quick to promote others and I was curious as to why. I was told he likes to help people and being no fool, he was sure that his gesture would be reciprocated at some point. The lesson is to align yourself with people who compliment and do not compete with you.

Referrals are the most effective and least expensive forms of advertising today, take steps to make sure you are getting your share.

Step Seven: Establish next steps

As we concluded our business transaction, he thanked me for my patronage and asked me pass along some extra business cards to friends and neighbours that might need his service. Then he told me to mark on a card or a calendar for a follow up visit three years forward.

Surprisingly, too many sales people forget to follow up or keep in touch. Your existing client base is your best source for future sales. They’ve already proven they have bought into whatever you’re selling and secondly they should be a rich source of referrals. Nurture your clientele and they will take care of you!

Conclusion:

Congratulations for making it this far. It was with some trepidation that I wrote this story not knowing how it might be received. I admit my septic guy is an unusual source for sales skills. Nothing written above is new. Early on in my career I did sales training so I probably pay greater attention to how I am treated by sales representatives than most. My septic guy gets it. He took a very stale service transaction and made it professional. And I’m sure he’s not alone.

Ask yourself, when was the last time you looked at your sales technique? What could I do better? Or why should someone do business with me?

Depending on your product or service, you no doubt compete with some form of online platform. Your edge is that you can connect personally with your clients and build deep lasting relationships. Most online retailers experience higher return rates than traditional brick and mortar stores. For some categories at Amazon.com the return rate exceeds 25%. That tells me there are plenty of unsatisfied online clients.

Whether you’re selling cars, insurance, or perhaps you are a lawyer starting out in a practice – sales is about people and how you relate and treat them. You’ve trained and studied to get where you are, don’t flush it down the drain because you refuse to self-improve.

Bonus Tips:

1. Commit yourself to continuous improvement - My septic guy didn’t start out a fully formed professional. He has been in the business for 33 years. He kept refining his approach and improved upon it over the years. He read up and talked to others to learn what they did to stand-out among the crowd. Wayne Gretzky always practiced till the day he retired. No matter how good you are, continual self-improvement is essential.

2. Have the right tools – showing up to the pitch without all your tools is a confidence killer. For some their tools are a pry bar or a shovel, for others it might be a laptop or rate table. Don’t be caught without the proper tools at your meeting.

3. Know what you’re worth – my septic guy refused to haggle, not that I tried; because I felt he was worth every peso. I know this doesn’t work all the time and doesn’t always translate across cultural lines. My septic guy refused to budge on price, he knew what his time was worth and would not cheapen his service. If you establish yourself as a professional, act as one. To sell for less is to diminish one’s self.

[mjbanaag-blog]

The Cause, the Curse, the Cure of a Critical Spirit

What Is the Curse and Consequence of a Critical Spirit?

 Criticism is “an act of criticizing; to judge as a critic; to find fault; to blame or condemn.” Romans 14:10-13 tells us not to tear down fellow believers through criticism or judgment, because this can pose a stumbling block and cause serious damage to their faith. Among God’s warnings in Scripture, there are none more serious than the Matthew 18:6 warning to not become a stumbling block to His followers.

Have you ever noticed: We tend to judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions? The truth is, we can’t rightly judge anyone else, because we don’t have a heart x-ray machine. That is to say, we don’t know the motivations of their heart. We should be content to judge only ourselves and seek to bring our own lives in alignment with God’s Word (1 Cor. 11:31).

What is a critical spirit? A “critical spirit,” is an obsessive attitude of criticism and fault-finding, which seeks to tear down others rather than build up. Destructive criticism is different from constructive feedback. The only criticism that is ever constructive is that which speaks the truth in love, to build up or edify another person for his or her good and for God’s glory.

What are some characteristics of constructive or healthy feedback?

1.       It is descriptive rather than evaluative, reducing the need for others to react defensively.

2.       It is specific rather than general; as a rule, the more specific we are, the more helpful we are.

3.       It is directed toward behavior that the receiver can control or do something about.

4.       It is well timed. Trust needs to be established, but generally the sooner the better.

5.       It is solicited rather than imposed. Feedback is most appreciated when it is requested.

6.       It is checked with the receiver in order to insure clear, factual or accurate communication.

7.       It takes into account the needs of the giver and receiver of the feedback – truth spoken in love.

8.       It is always expressed face-to-face and never as gossip behind another person’s back.

A critical spirit dwells on the negative, looks for flaws rather than positive qualities in others. They are constantly complaining or criticizing and usually upset with something or somebody. They often have little control over their tongue, their temper and have tendencies for gossip, slander, strife and malice. These are some of the sins spoken of by Paul in Romans 1:29-32.

 Do you know anyone who has a critical spirit? I’m sure we all do. But the question that we really need to consider is: Do you have a critical spirit, and if so, how would you know? If you have a critical or judgmental spirit, you would probably refer to it euphemistically? You would probably refer to this poisonous character quality by saying something like: “I’m just being discerning,” or “I’m just being honest,” or “Get real, I’m just telling it like it is.” Do you ruminate on your negative feelings, thinking about how bad or wrong something or someone was? Do you say things like: “I can’t believe he was such a bad listener; man, is he full of himself. “Or: “She is so vain.” Or: “Look at her clothes! I wonder how much money she spends on her wardrobe.” Sometimes the negativity of our hearts finds its way to the tongue, and other times it just stays in our hearts. Either way, the root sin of a critical spirit is the same.

A critical spirit can be very detrimental and damaging to a person’s personal faith or to the health and vitality of a local congregation. Over time, if left unchecked, it prevents us from seeing, appreciating and enjoying all that’s truly good in the world – all that God is actively doing. It is the exact opposite of wearing “rose-colored glasses.” A critical spirit is like putting on sunglasses when the day is full of clouds: everything in life begins to take on a dark, drab hue. The critical person comes to expect, even to hope, that everything will have something wrong with it. Taken to the extreme, a critical person can assume the role of the “devil’s advocate.” One’s very identity can be marked by this “need” for negativity. But critical people aren’t just hurting themselves; they are also negatively affecting others as well.

What Are the Causes of a Critical Spirit?

(These factors aren’t mutually exclusive and the more factors present, the worse the problem.)

Let’s briefly consider some important factors (causes) contributing to cultivating a critical spirit:

1.       Our Sinful or Selfish nature is referred to in the Bible as “the flesh.” A critical person is walking in the flesh, not the Spirit. Rather than drawing on God for strength and perspective, the critical person relies upon his own resources. Cynicism inhibits faith and quenches the Spirit of God, causing us to live based on negative feelings, not faith. Godly people will always be optimistic and full of hope because they know, love and serve a good, great and gracious God. On the other hand, the outlook of the sinful nature or “the flesh” will be one of despair. Why? Because apart from Christ, we have no realistic basis for hope (Jn. 15:5; Phil. 4:13; 1 Cor. 15:58)

2.       Poor Self-Concept: It’s been said, “Hurting people hurt people.” This is demonstrably true. When you meet people who are constantly critical, you can be pretty sure that they’re suffering from a poor self-concept which is a works-based self-concept. They see themselves as unattractive, failing, or in some manner unworthy, perhaps they even condemn themselves. Finding faults keeps us from seeing, feeling and dealing with our own pain and shortcomings.

3.       Little or no Grace: A critical person has experienced little or no grace from God. It’s far easier to see others’ sins than our own. Judgmental people rarely get in touch with God’s perspective on their own ugly failures, or with God’s incredible gift of forgiveness. We’re all Pharisees at heart. Have we honestly faced our sin and experienced God’s grace? Have you ever wept over your sins? When you see the sins of others, are you aware that you are just as capable of the very things they do, were God to withdraw His grace from you?

4.       Pessimism or Negativity: A negative emotional focus, a bad attitude or a negative, cynical, secular view of life. A negative person may have unconfessed sin in his life (Romans 2:1). There are some individuals who are so negative they assume the role as the devil’s advocate. It seems that no matter what opinion you have, they’ll take the opposite and argue with you. The devil gives us enough problems, we don’t need to have anyone advocate for him!

5.       Insecurity: Criticism is often a conscious or subconscious means to “elevate one’s own self-esteem or self-image.” By putting others down, they’re inwardly trying to build themselves us by feeling more important or appearing more knowledgeable. Envy of the good fortune of others is often the cause of a critical attitude and/or action. Ministers can be guilty of this as well. We need to learn to rejoice with those who rejoice and be happy for the good fortune of others.

6.       Immaturity: Christians must always keep their faith focused upon Christ and His Word, not on others who will invariably disappoint (Heb. 12:2). Immature believers haven’t progressed very far in their faith and are perhaps too dependent upon the faith of other Christians. Unfortunately, when they begin to notice the flaws or shortcomings in others, this becomes a subconscious threat to their own faith and walk. Criticism becomes a reaction of disappointment, because their unrealistic expectations in others have been crushed.

7.       An Unrenewed Mind: Put-downs, making fun of, criticism, sarcasm are the world’s ways of reacting to the faults of others. However, as Christians we shouldn’t behave this way. Paul says that our thinking and attitude should be regularly renewed by God’s Word, which teaches us to bear the infirmities of the weak, to love, show compassion and offer encouragement (Rom. 12:2).

8.       A Root of Bitterness develops when we fail to obtain the grace of God to forgive. When we fail to forgive others we become angry, bitter and resentful, not better. Hebrews 12:15: “Look after each other so that not one of you will fail to find God’s best blessings. Watch out that no bitterness takes root among you, for as it springs up it causes deep trouble, hurting many in their spiritual lives.” Such people develop a negative emotional focus by harboring bitterness or resentment toward one who has offended them. Our ability to live healthy, happy, harmonious lives is largely related to our willingness and ability to consistently forgive and ask forgiveness.

9.       Bad Company: The reality is, for better or worse, we become like those with whom we associate. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15: 33, we should not be deceived, bad company ruins good morals or corrupts good character. If you are basically a positive person and you associate with a lot of negative people, and you are not having a positive influence on them, over time, they can have an adverse influence on you and pull you down into their negativity.

10.    The Devil specializes in influencing negative, obsessive, sinful attitudes and behavior. He may use any of these factors or other techniques, to influence a complaining or critical attitude and to stir up turmoil and strife within the body of Christ (Eph. 6:12). We must be on guard so we won’t be used as a tool of the Devil to discourage or tear down others through criticism. In Ephesians 4:27, Paul warns us not to give the Devil an opportunity to be used by him. Satan is called “the accuser of the brethren” (Rev. 12:10). Don’t allow Satan to use you!

 III. What Do We Need in Order to Overcome a Critical Spirit?

 One thing is for sure: we don’t need to go from one extreme to the other. That is to say, the solution is not to exchange “our dull gray sunglasses” for a pair of “rose-tinted glasses.” Following Christ doesn’t make someone a naive person with a Pollyanna attitude. Fake smiles, repressed anger and a lot of superficial “praise-the-Lords” do not build the Kingdom of God. Sin needs to first be confronted and defeated in ourselves. Jesus said that we need to first take the log out of our own eye before we can see clearly enough to take the splinter of another’s eye. Critical people may be misusing the gift of discernment. If you have that gift, be grateful to God, but don’t misused/abuse it by judging, condemning or constantly finding fault with others.

 What Are Some Crucial Changes a Critical Person Needs to Consider Making?

Here are just a few:

 1.       We need to have our spiritual eyes opened to see two complementary spiritual truths: a) The depth of our own sin, and b) the greater depth of God’s grace toward us in Christ. Spiritual sight here isn’t something we can “will.” God must give it, but we can ask Him for it: Pray, “God, would you help me to see myself more clearly and know your love more intimately?” We all need to experience the depth of our own sin, and the abundance of God’s grace. James 4:9-10: “Let there be tears for the wrong things you have done. Let there be sorrow and sincere grief. Let there be sadness instead of laughter and gloom instead of joy. Then when you realize your worthlessness before the Lord, he will lift you up, encourage and help you.” When King David’s blind eyes were finally opened to his sin with Bathsheba and Uriah, he didn’t merely acknowledge it in some academic, emotionally removed way; he fell on his face, wailed and fasted for three full days! The more we experience God’s grace, the more grateful we are and the more we’re motivated to extend grace to others by being gracious and forgiving!

2.       We must be deeply convinced that only God can accurately discern the motives of the heart. Since we can never know with certainty one’s true motives, we must not assume for ourselves the role and the responsibility of judge that belongs to God alone. James 4:11-12 says: “Don’t criticize and speak evil about each other… If you do, you’ll be fighting against God’s law of loving one another, declaring it’s wrong. But your job is not to decide whether this law is right or wrong, but to obey it. Only he who made the law can rightly judge among us. He alone decides to save us or destroy. So what right do you have to judge or criticize others?” There are so many factors, beyond our knowledge, that go into another’s actions. Only God sees the heart and only His judgment will be 100% accurate and fair (Jer. 17:9-10). Some of you may hear this admonition, yet still secretly think, “Well, yes, but you see, I really do know why Person X does what she does.” Yes, sometimes you’re right; but you may very well be wrong as well. “What right do you have to judge or criticize others?” (Jas. 4:12b).

3.       We need to learn what to do when we’re bothered by bad behavior of a Christian brother. We must pray for both the person and our response to them instantly and fervently! What would happen if we channeled all our critical energy into an honest dialog with God? It’s always better to talk to God about another than to talk to another about what they should do. It’s just plain wrong for us to have a double standard, one for us and one for others, isn’t it? Instead of judging others, we should, like the Psalmist, ask God to search and examine us. Psalm 139:23-24: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” If we don’t first take the log out of our own eye, we’re not in a position to restore a fallen brother or sister.

4.       We must learn to engage in clear, direct, face to face communication with other people. No fake smiles where we try to call darkness “light.” No repression of true feelings, but clear, caring, constructive communication. The goal isn’t to tear down by revealing hidden character flaws; it’s: repentance, reconciliation and restoration of broken relationships. And remember: there’s no guarantee people are going to respond the way God wants them to.

5.       We need to be encouragers; genuinely up-building others and helping them become all that they can become and all that God longs for them to become. Get excited about building people up, not tearing them down! Be an encourager like Barnabas was to Paul and trust God to provide encouragement for you as well. A timely word of genuine affirmation may mean more than you know. Encouragement empowers; it is oxygen for the soul. Instead of seeing only the downside of those around us, let’s pray for the ability to see what God is doing in others’ lives and then make our own small contribution in furthering along God’s good work in the lives of others.

What Are the Cures For Conquering the Causes of a Critical Spirit?

Since many causes contributing to a critical spirit, the cures must be related to particular causes:

 1.       If the cause of a critical spirit is a life style based on living by our sinful selfish nature, we need to cultivate our new nature and learn to be controlled by the Holy Spirit. Galatians 5:16: “…obey only the Holy Spirit’s instructions. He will tell you where to go and what to do, and then you won’t always be doing the wrong things your evil nature wants you to.” Ephesians 5:18b: “be filled instead with the Holy Spirit and controlled by him.”

2.       If the cause of a critical spirit is a poor self-concept based of our works, we need to cultivate a healthy self-concept based upon God’s grace, not our works. First Corinthians 15:10: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.”

3.       If the cause of a critical spirit is that we have experienced little or no grace from God, we need to humble ourselves before God, confess, repent of our sins and ask His forgiveness. James 4:6b: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

4.       If the cause of a critical spirit is our insecurity due in large measure to lack of self-acceptance, we need to learn to accept God’s acceptance of us and find true security in God’s love for us. Romans 8 says that nothing can separate us from the love of God found in Jesus Christ our Lord.

5.       If the cause of a critical spirit is a negative emotional focus or negative worldview, we need to learn to see God’s view of Jesus and not from a worldly secular point of view. Second Corinthians 5:16: “Though we once regarded Christ from a worldly point of view, we do so no longer.” Philippians 4:8: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

6.       If the cause of a critical spirit is immaturity resulting from an improper faith focus, we need to learn to focus our faith on the atoning sacrifice of Christ and God’s promises to us. Hebrews 12:2-3: “Keep your eyes on Jesus, our leader and instructor. He was willing to die a shameful death on the cross because of the joy he knew would be his afterwards; and now he sits in the place of honor by the throne of God. If you want to keep from becoming fainthearted and weary, think about his patience as sinful men did such terrible things to him.”

7.       If the cause of a critical spirit is an un-renewed mind based on the world’s ways of reacting, we need to submit ourselves to God and be daily transformed by the renewing of our minds. Romans 12:1-2:“I urge you, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

8.       If the cause of a critical spirit is a root of bitterness due to a lack of forgiveness on our part, we need to appropriate God’s grace by forgiving others as God for Christ’s sake forgave us. Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind/compassionate to one another, forgiving just as in Christ God forgave you.”

9.       If the cause of a critical spirit is the result of our associations with an unhealthy peer group, we need to associate with those who have godly values and a positive mental attitude. First Corinthians 15:33: “Don’t let anyone deceive you. Associating with bad people will ruin decent people.”

10.    If the cause of a critical spirit is the result of the devil negatively impacting your life, we need to learn to resist Satan so that we would not be used by him to discourage/hurt others. James 4:7-8a: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

 How Can One Offer Godly Constructive Feedback?

Seven Characteristics:

1.       Directly (face to face), not indirectly (through intermediaries).

2.       Soberly (seriously), not flippantly (in a lighthearted way).

3.       Importantly (major offenses), not inconsequentially (minor offenses).

4.       Privately (alone together), not publically (in the presence of others).

5.       Lovingly (concern for other’s best interest), not malevolently (returning evil for evil).

6.       Accurately (factually), not based on gossip (incomplete or inaccurate information).

7.       Timely (sooner rather than later), not conveniently (whenever we get around to it).

Conclusion

Hebrews 10:24-25: “Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on.” The reason we come together as a church isn’t to criticize, but to “encourage” one another. “Cursing the darkness” won’t change anything; instead we must learn to “light a candle.” Ephesians 4:15 says we are to “speak the truth in love;” in so doing, others will change for the better. Loving encouragement is a “motivational force.” If we ever hope to help others, we need to learn to encourage them. Just as sugar attracts more flies than honey, so encouragement helps others more than a critical spirit or a judgmental attitude.

Let’s use our tongues to build up not tear down: “Let no foul or polluting language, nor evil word, nor unwholesome or worthless talk (ever) come out of your mouth; but only such speech as is good and beneficial to the spiritual progress of others, as is fitting to the need and the occasion, that it may be a blessing and give grace to those who hear it” (Eph. 4:29, Amplified Bible)

Here is a “Prescription for a Healthy Mind” by psychiatrist Dr. David H. Fink:

Several years ago, a psychiatrist wrote a magazine article, “Release from Nervous Tension.” In his article, he outlined his research into the causes of mental and emotional disturbances. From over 10,000 case studies, he discovered that there was a common trait with all his patients who suffered from severe tension. They were habitual fault-finders, constant critics of people and things around them. Those free from tension were the least critical. The conclusion of this study is that fault-finding is a prelude or mark of the nervous or mentally unbalanced person. What’s the bottom line? Those who wish to retain good emotional, mental and spiritual health should learn to free themselves from a negative, critical, judgmental attitude!

Isn’t this what Paul says in Philippians 4:8-9? “Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, [for good] will work you into his most excellent harmonies.”

Remember: the Bible doesn’t promise peace to those who dwell on the faults of others! It says, “[The Lord] will keep them in perfect peace, whose minds are stayed on [Him]! (Isa. 26:3).

By: John Ankerberg Show