#i always wonder why we lose empathy for children as we grow older

[homosexuhauls]

idc what you say radblr, you're never gonna convince me that little boys are ~evil~

[astoriias]

{ cisgender woman, she/her } ❝ Thank god women learned to whisper / though I crave a megaphone. ❞ huh, who’s CAITRIONA BALFE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ASTORIA MALFOY (NEÉ GREENGRASS). she is a 47 year old PUREBLOOD witch who is CHIEF WARLOCK OF THE WIZENGAMOT. she is known for being JUDGEMENTAL, DISHONEST, COLD, RIGID, and CALLOUS but also PRACTICAL, DRIVEN, INNOVATIVE, STEADFAST and DISCIPLINED, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song TOMORROW - MINER and BLACK LEATHER BRIEFCASES, THE CLICK OF HIGH HEELS ON TILE FLOORS, THE LINGERING TASTE OF FAIRY FLOSS, BURGUNDY NAIL POLISH, AND PEARL HAIR PINS. i hear she is aligned with NO ONE so be sure to keep an eye on her. 

BIO

Cursed with a blood malediction that left her and her parents preoccupied with maintaining her health throughout early childhood, Astoria grew up without direction, without passion, and without much to do or think about other than staying alive. She did what she was told and completed what was asked of her by her parents: mostly swallowing thick potions that made her head spin and remaining in bed when all she wanted to do was tumble through the lush gardens of the Greengrass estate and scrape her knees like other children. As she grew older and defied Healers’ expectations — making it past 5, then 10, then 15 — Astoria grew weary of the half-life she’d been prescribed. At Hogwarts, she followed her sister Daphne into Slytherin because she didn’t know where else to go. 

It took Astoria almost a year at Hogwarts before she would speak up in class or acknowledge anyone with more than a handful of words — and each time she did her heartbeat would quicken, her face would flush. If she was called on by a professor and — Merlin forbid — got the answer wrong, her eyes would fill with tears, her gaze would shift to the floor, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. One day, outside her second-year Transfiguration class, an annoying boy named Colin saw her heavy breathing and told her about panic attacks — Astoria’s irrational fear of social situations and new people now made sense.

That same annoying boy became her close friend not long after. It was a month into study sessions by the Black Lake that Astoria Greengrass learned that her Colin, the boy who kept a camera slung around his neck at all times and was so nice to her, was Colin Creevey, yes, that Colin Creevey, who was petrified by a Basilisk a year prior for being MUGGLEBORN. Astoria found that didn’t bother her very much. Sure, she never advertised that they were friends and didn’t freely associate with Colin in public places, but he understood her position or in the very least, didn’t protest it. She even got him to join Herbology club — though she insisted that they enter and exit the greenhouse at different times and never spoke directly, his presence was a comforting balm.

Colin tried to get her to join up with the student resistance that was brewing in her third year — but Astoria knew she wasn’t the type to stir up such trouble. She couldn’t stand with the muggleborns and blood traitors no matter how right they were; she couldn’t risk losing her family. Unlike those in Dumbledore’s Army, Astoria didn’t see this conflict in terms of black and white, good vs. evil — there were plenty of others like her, struggling to find themselves in the midst of conflict, battling tradition and family expectations. She kept out of Umbridge’s way during that time. Kept out of her father’s way during that time — while he had no Dark Mark to speak of, his entrepreneurial hands passed cursed objects and ingredients for poisons to any Dark Lord-aligned wix who wanted them.

Through her friendship with Colin and her time in Herbology Club, Astoria learned she was a talented witch in her own right. Formed an identity outside of being the sick girl everyone doted on. Quietly realized that her muggleborn classmates  — despite what her pureblood indoctrination taught her — were fully-fledged human beings. To someone who didn’t grow up feeling trapped in the (sometimes socially constructed) confines of a blood illness, perhaps her time in Herbology Club wouldn’t seem so transformative. But for Astoria, it was everything.

Nowadays, Astoria is still defying life expectancy estimations and is perhaps best known for her robust political career. She joined the Ministry as a pupil/intern in its Wizengamot Instruction in Magical Law Program (W.I.M.P.), and in the span of twenty-five years has climbed the ranks to barrister’s assistant, barrister, then Wizengamot member, and finally, the youngest Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in the last hundred years. She is extremely opinionated about the runnings of the legislature and judiciary, and her past two years as Chief Warlock have been marked by her love for procedure, due process, and fairness -- essentially meaning trials are very thorough and very focused on making sure the Ministry doesn’t overstep its bounds. 

BLOOD MALEDICTION

i’m truly on my bullshit and this needs its own section..........,,,,, i’m sorry

I originally started writing Astoria out of pure spite — it enraged and continues to enrage me that all we’re given about this woman is a few lines about her and an off-page (or off-stage, I guess, but Cursed Child is its own beast) death. It makes me mad that she is only defined by her role as a mother and wife to Scorpius and Draco, that she doesn’t get her own ambitions and a life of her own. The racist and sexist underpinnings of the blood malediction/Maledictus concept are par the course for JK but still, bad!

And while I can’t choose for Astoria to have this particular chronic illness and completely divorce it from those origins, I can at least eschew parts of it I don’t like and give a Astoria a rich and fulfilling life with a chronic/potentially terminal illness — not in spite of the blood curse, but because those of us with illnesses and disabilities are people with rich and fulfilling lives, wants, desires, and ambitions.

AN IMPORTANT NOTE:  I try to be really careful about ableist language when I describe this blood malediction and its effects on Astoria’s life — I think that there is so much to explore regarding chronic illness and what, exactly, we constitute as ‘health’ — but I know that I can fall into the traps of my own internalized ableism. If there are terms or concepts here that make players uncomfortable and/or have harmful effects, let me know! I’m happy to make changes.

So anyway!

— origins of the blood malediction

I don’t have this fully worked out, but I think the Greengrass blood malediction stretches back a good ten generations to a very vindictive-in-her-righteous-cause-Muggleborn-witch cursing the family for their refusal to let her marry their son. It’s not limited to just the girls in the family, because I hate that, but it does affect at least one child per generation, so long as the family continues to marry exclusively purebloods — which they have continued to do, not knowing that their bigotry (though in some cases, real love!) is the reason for the curse’s spread. Astoria’s parents mistakenly believed that since the last few cases of the curse had cropped up in different branches of the Greengrass family — distant cousins living on the Continent — that their children would be spared.

— astoria’s symptoms and treatment

Since it’s a blood curse, I figure Astoria’s symptoms manifest as issues both with her blood and with her cardiovascular system at large. I’d compare it to haemophilia. Her blood itself is thin and cannot clot without healing spells and thickening potions, meaning that nosebleeds are frequent, bruising is easy, and bad cuts can be fatal. She’s at high risk for internal bleeding in her joints, and  a big — though often unvoiced fear — of hers is a brain aneurysm that ruptures into a haemorrhage.

(miscarriage tw) These symptoms have waxed and waned her entire life, with particular incidents that have brought her close to death; an accident falling from the garden wall at five, a wayward spell hitting her across the face in second-year DADA, trying for a child. She doesn’t regret that last one — not at all — though it was five weeks after her miscarriage before she was able to stand unassisted, and her Healer’s face when she said “I strongly advise you to not have any more children” haunts her to this day. Scorpius’s birth, possible due to a wonderful surrogate, was alternatively the happiest day of her life. (end miscarriage tw)

Then there come the potions — a barrage of them, to be taken at specific times of day, with extras if she’s bleeding externally or feeling pain in particular areas — that come with side effects like exhaustion, headaches, and nausea. She visits St. Mungo’s once every three months to ensure that the potions are working as intended and has learned to accept her Healers chastising her for the times she skips parts of the regimen or pushes herself too far physically.

PERSONALITY

astoria!!! my love. clearly i have a lot of thoughts and Feelings about her lol,,,,,,,

there isn’t any world or timeline in which astoria would be rushing to join the death eaters -- lol, i’ve always envisioned her being extremely inquisitive and Critical of other people, their motivations, their methods -- this makes her extremely Good at Lawyering and Suspicious of Bullshit. i also have always thought that it was important for her to make a muggleborn friend or two just to really hammer the point home that pureblood nonsense is just that.

still, again, she’s not really motivated by niceness, she doesn’t have a bleeding-heart-sense-of-empathy, she’s kind of snarky and mean. her friends describe her as an acquired taste. 

has a massive sweet tooth. her family is regularly concerned she does not eat enough vegetables.

adores her son. just, absolutely thinks he can do no wrong. she and draco agree that most parents think their child is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, but scorpius actually is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, so. 

a note on astoria and draco: i think draco doesn’t treat her with pity or kid gloves, and has never underestimated her capacity to get shit done in light of her blood curse. and they have an honesty and rapport with each other that astoria hasn’t been able to cultivate with anyone else. they may not be very great people but they’re great partners and great parents. i luv them ok bye

STATS

GENERAL

name. astoria céline malfoy (née greengrass)

nickname. aster (reserved for use by her sister only!)

birthdate. 1 january 1982

place of birth. greengrass residence via midwifery

family. daphne greengrass (sister), draco malfoy (husband), scorpius malfoy (son)

residence. malfoy manor, wiltshire

occupation. chief warlock of the wizengamot

gender identity. woman

romantic orientation. biromantic

sexuality. bisexual

blood status. pureblood

relationship status. married

pets. a scottish terrier named hades

HOGWARTS / MAGIC

house. slytherin

extracurriculars/leadership. herbology club

allegiance. neutral/no one

n.e.w.t. grades charms (o), transfiguration (o), herbology (o), d.a.d.a (a), potions (a), arithmancy, astronomy (o), history of magic (a), ancient runes (e).

wand. willow, nine inches, unicorn hair core

boggart. tbd

patronus. also tbd! my brain hurts 

magical strengths. nonverbal casting, herbology, transfiguration, ancient runes

magical weaknesses. flying, defensive spells, domestic spells

[diarrheaworldstarhiphop]

I Don't Wanna Grow Up (And Neither Can You)

You can't show women being hurt. You can't show child abuse. You can't show rape. You can't show incest. Pedophilia, self-harm, intimate partner abuse, necrophilia, violence against children; if you're going to so much as talk about any of these things you need to do so at a 5th-grade level and behind the dual firewalls of safe, pastel-colored animation and explicitly education-based presentation. The art has to show you in painstaking detail the exact way in which to behave. Even then there's no guarantee it won't provoke a public outcry, doxxing, death threats, and even campaigns to strip artists of their jobs and livelihoods.

The idea that by depicting an act an artist is endorsing that act seems baked into the minds of certain left-leaning sets of younger people, particularly teenagers and early twentysomethings. That they have such deep concern for the safety and social equality of their traumatized peers and the traumatized in their own ranks can only be admirable, but more often than not the form it takes is mass harassment and scapegoating targeting not institutions or major studios but independent creators, many of them marginalized themselves. If the whole thing sounds, with its zeal for censorship and its self-righteous hate campaigns against the disenfranchised, a little like the American Family Association with a glittery coat of paint, well, that's kind of what it is.

The usual arguments about internet anonymity and the horrible deformities it breeds in human interaction all apply here, and there's much to be said of the young age and unformed personalities of the people perpetrating the worst of it, but even older, more experienced art aficionados aren't immune to the fervor for purity in art. There seems to be a much deeper affection in these circles for corporate art -- for the Marvel cinematic universe and its bland, calculated inoffensiveness, say -- than there is for art made by artists. Movies like Wonder Woman and Captain America: Civil War are evaluated with a generosity of spirit that borders on delusion, cults of enthusiastic acclaim forming around actress Gal Gadot's onscreen thigh jiggle and the "subtle homo-eroticism" of Thor: Ragnarok.

Corporate art exists to please. It exists to reaffirm the status quo and to build affection for and loyalty to corporations. From the callous Islamophobia of the Iron Man movies to the US Air Force and CIA-approved wokeness of Captain Marvel and Black Panther, the whole enterprise is bent on saying as little as possible while looking as socially conscious as it can. Fandom's fixation on finding gay themes and subtext in these blockbuster juggernauts was more understandable when independent gay art was harder to find, but today you don't even have to brave a convention-- you can dig it up with a quick search on Etsy or Gumroad. When independent artists release material featuring actual deviant sexuality, though -- from gay content to incest -- the reaction from these same people is overwhelmingly prudish. There is little to no desire among them to interact with adult work created by adult gay and trans artists. That art -- small art, created for personal reasons -- is too dangerous to touch, too full of moral imperfections and frightening images.

But what's left in art once you scour away the things that make you uncomfortable? What's left for the people who make their living and/or maintain their sanity by approaching our own suffering from a place of skill, assurance, and safety? What's left for readers and viewers trying to grow as people, to find empathy for those they've been taught to despise, to understand their own sexual shame and fear? What's left for people struggling with the isolation of abuse who have no support and no words to help them name it? Art is the lifeblood of human connection and introspection. It is the foremost way in which we can confront our own weaknesses and failings. Sanitized and focused solely on the comfort and entertainment of its audience, it's no more meaningful than a halfhearted handjob from an indifferent lover.

The idea that depiction equates to endorsement has been pedaled in our society virtually since its inception. Its modern proponents range from anti-violent video game morality groups to the Westboro Baptist Church's unhinged campaigns to remove television with gay content from the airwaves. Imagine a world where Debbie Dreschler never made her autobiographical comic Daddy's Girl, one of the most scorching, hideous things ever committed to paper. How many people would never have seen their own experiences with parental incest reflected in her work, and thus felt able to finally break themselves open and process their deep pain? When a subject becomes taboo we lose our ability to process the pain surrounding it, to talk about it openly, to understand why it happens.

Another core pillar of this movement is the expression of outrage toward sexual kinks based around transgression. Surviving rape, abuse, and other traumatic incidents is never an easy thing, and it's never clean. You'll carry the marks of it in your sex life, in your sense of safety, in your beliefs about the world until the day you die. In Nancy Friday's My Secret Garden, a 1975 collection of women's anonymously submitted sexual fantasies, multiple Jewish women who had survived the Holocaust wrote with deep shame of their need to sexualize that experience, to relive it with their partners in a safe and loving environment. It's a relatable sentiment for anyone whose sexuality has been shaped by trauma, which can force shame and need against one another until they grow together inextricably. A close friend of mine was attacked as a "vicious anti-semite" for quoting the book.

The same friend was attacked en masse for her erotic comics featuring gay and bisexual men, comics which depict those men with complexity, heart, and loving attention to detail. The argument was that as a straight woman it was fetishistic for her to portray sex between men, a position so mind-bogglingly dense that I'm hard pressed to find a way to fire back at it other than "really?" It's difficult to parse until you realize that the targets of these little brigades of loudmouths and scolds are always, always women. For all that they're marching under the banner of social justice, the people they feel most comfortable threatening with harm and emotionally brutalizing are women. Men both in the independent art scene and in the mainstream make violent, hateful art every day, but screaming at men doesn't satisfy the misogynistic impulses beaten into us by a culture that sees women as weak, stupid, and venally evil.

What you have in the end is a movement which in practice enforces a sort of neoliberal social conservatism, demanding the sanitization of art produced by women and labeling existing art degenerate with the same verve the Nazis displayed in putting the torch to centuries of Europe's artistic history. It's a small, impoverished way to understand the purpose of art and it's fueled by deep, repressed misogyny. If we pretend everything is good, if we act like Marvel will fix racism and sexism if we just give them another four production cycles, if we make our branded dollies kiss and claim it's because the movies portray them in a symbolically homo-erotic context, OBVIOUSLY, then we don't need to look at ourselves or see what we're doing to the people around us. We can close our eyes and slip into the lukewarm water of purposeful mediocrity.

There's nothing wrong with escapism. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to or not being able to engage with art about horrific things. The problem begins when you look at the people who can, who need to, and decide that they can't either, that they're going to have to bend to your worldview or you'll call them pedophiles and nazis and incest apologists and run them out of town. And what then? When you've crushed the hopes and dreams of every woman writing dark erotica or making beautiful, sensual comics about love and loss, what's left but staring at each other in a creative wasteland and waiting for one of your own to show the tiniest sign of weakness so you can recapture the thrill of moral outrage by ripping them apart. It's a cannibalistic cultural dead end where corporations are our friends and other human beings are the enemy.

I stand with sex workers, with pornographers, with artists of all kinds struggling to make something hot, something vulnerable, something raw and sickening and terrifying. If they fuck it up, well, at least they're a person, not some faceless sea of suits trying to get their arms down my throats to pull out my organs. Enjoy your popcorn movies, your Steven Universe and your X-Men comics, but ask yourself, what are you immersing yourself in by not reaching beyond those things? What is prolonged and overgrown childhood doing to your mind and to your moral sense of the world? Growing up is painful, yes, but if you want to learn to love, to open yourself up to others, to touch the deepest, rawest parts of your psyche and your sexuality, you're going to have to suffer.

From: https://www.patreon.com/posts/25994657

[cmeliabones]

                                      i used to be broken.     i used to be shards of iron and ice,                         a whirlwind of broken glass,     until I learned to be more.

DILAN DENIZ? No, that’s actually AMELIA BONES from the MARAUDERS ERA. You know, the child of ENDER BONES and IRMAK BONES NÉÉ KUNDAKÇI ? Only 25 years old, this SLYTHERIN alumni works as a LEGAL ADVISOR AT THE WIZENGAMOT and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as A CIS WOMAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be SECRETIVE, CYNICAL and SELF-NEGLECTFUL but also JUST, AMBITIOUS and LEVELHEADED.

LINKS – pinboard, stats. CHARACTER PARALLELS – laurel castillo (htgawm), peggy carter (mcu), spencer hastings (pll), rebecca bunch (crazy ex-girlfriend), raquel murillo (la casa de papel) AESTHETIC – a blood red lipstick mark on a drained cup of coffee, knuckles bruised from collapsing against a wall, smoking through the crack of your window in the middle of the night, striped blouses, chipped black nailpolish, downing vodka without wincing, wiping sweat off your eyebrow while laughing, sinking down in the shower and not getting up for half an hour, eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, a longing for something without quite knowing what it is, a sense for justice that burns you up (and hopefully takes the whole world with it one day), something weighing down on your shoulder at all times, the inability to sleep if the world is too quiet HEADS UP – there are some triggers in this intro (specifically: burn out, anxiety, alcohol, smoking, self destructiveness, death and grief). all are trigger warned in front of the bulletpoints theyre mentioned in!

backstory ( 1955 - 1973 )

amelia bones grows up happy. with two older brothers & a set of loving parents, there was such room to grow. her parents are openminded and supportive and allow her fire and mind to expand and grow. she grows up valuing family and empathy and acceptance and fairness, and will always fall back on these values.

a bit of background on her parents: 

her father comes from the bones family, which has been a prominent magical family in eurasia for centuries (mostly for their influence in politics & international cooperation, and their progressiveness). after the global wizarding war, her father’s grandfather and his wife migrated to england after he was offered a position at the ministry, which he got offered due to his efforts during the war. word of their (good & wonderful!) reputation then spread in the UK, too, and they soon became a respected pureblood family (not that they cared about blood status, not at all, and i think plenty of purebloods didn’t care much for the bones --- too progressive and idealistic and proactive).

amelia’s father followed in his own father’s footsteps and joined the department of international cooperation, through which he met irmak, a turkish witch who worked for an international ngo advocating for worldwide women’s rights. they started as coworkers, and soon fell for one another and soon marriage followed, and then their three kids

amelia loves her family. they’re her entire world.

she was the last of her siblings to go to hogwarts, which just made her all the more excited, i think. amelia envied her brothers for getting to go before her, though, very much so. either way ---- amelia was a hatstall, stuck between hufflepuff and slytherin, stuck between her deep sense of justice and her cunning ambition. in the end, she was sorted in slytherin, but she would have thrived in either house, really. 

she walked towards that green-and-silver table with such pride in her face and back, proving that she’d fit right in

i think she was sorted in slytherin in the end as her ambition allows her to do more with her sense of justice. it’s the road towards her goals, her goals being reaching justice and righteousness and her ideals.

anxiety / panic attacks / alcohol & smoking / self destructiveness / burn out tw || amelia put immense pressure on herself all through hogwarts, not only wanting the best grades, but also wanting to be a helpful and put together individual. in her fourth year, she burns herself out --- there’s no energy left in her body. she started having more panic attacks, her anxiety growing with the pile of assignments she was unable to finish, and amelia -- for a while -- lost sight of herself, unsure how she was ever able to be so productive, to do so much. 

amelia starts smoking. she starts drinking. she yells at the whomping willow. she finds release in anything that will quiet her brain and she loses control, for a while --- detentions grow, as do her absences in class, and her grades drop. after a few months, she steps to slughorn, telling him that she’s not okay, that she needs help. (i imagine he was a bit startled, not by the news (as there had probably been reports of the change in amelia’s behaviour), but by the way she approached him, so maturely.)

admitting she wasn’t okay was the main step she needed and soon amelia was learning where her weaknesses lied, and how she could cope with stress, and how she should dose her work so she wouldnt end up this way again. and slowly but surely, amelia rebuilt her good grades, and prepared herself for those looming OWLs. end of tws

her last three years at hogwarts are spent studying, hard. amelia also became prefect & eventually head girl ( this is not definitive! just. putting it down in case ), and spent the rest of her time preparing for a career at the ministry --- that was where her ambition lied, after all. especially with the turmoil and unrest growing in the wizarding world, amelia’s sense for justice GREW, and she wanted to do something about it badly: the ministry was a flawed system, that much she knew, but she also knew that there were good people there (her dad, her grandfather, etc.) and that there was always room for change and growth

amelia cares SO MUCH about justice, it’s just something she’s always done. she has a very deep sense of justice herself, is very just in judging and approaching people. she’s also open about this & will call you out on her shit ( i imagine she did a fair amount of this in the slytherin common room ) but in a calm and collected way

ended up graduating with seven NEWTs, all with either E’s or O’s. we stan an overachieving icon. 

post graduation ( 1973 - 1980 )

anxiety tw | amelia started working as an administrative assistant at the wizengamot, interning under a member at the same time, slowly climbing the ranks and preparing for a successful career. it’s stressful, and sometimes anxiety inducing, but amelia sticks to her coping mechanisms that she’s developed over the years (both good and bad) and mostly thrives. end of tw

(parental) death, murder, grief tw | when she’s twenty, her parents are murdered. at that point, amelia had still been living at home, but she’d been at work when it all happened --- returning to a dark mark above the place she grew up in. her parents had been murdered for not meeting the vision of what purebloods were supposed to be, another pair of victims of a cruel war ( and the start of the bones’ downfall :( )

self destructiveness tw | amelia fell back in old patterns for a while, forgetting to take care of herself, raging against a world that wouldn’t listen. she took the time she had gotten off work to grief and drowned herself in distractions and things that only seemed to make things worse, in the long run end of tw

and then she returned to work and was done. done, with feeling like she’d drown in her grief, and so she turned cold. it wasn’t hard -- amelia had always been quite levelheaded, able to look at situations with emotional distance and objectivity, and now she did the same with her life. she joined the order as well, even though she had previously doubted them ( she thought them unorganised, chaotic rebels, and she had to eat her words, partly, after she joined ). amelia grew bitter and secretive and cynical, but she worked harder than she had ever before, wanting to see a better world as soon as possible --- for her brothers and their families, for all the families still whole, for fucking everyone, to be honest.

death of children tw | re: her brothers and their families, she thinks that theyre both stupid for having kids in this time. look at what happens every day! look at what happened to their parents! why would you risk orphaning your children?!

not that she voices those opinions. they’re dark and mean and she swallows them and keeps them locked up. 

of course, she was kind of right. edgar and his kids did die. lmao. when she found out, though, she didn’t think “told you so”, she just hated herself a bit more. end of all tws

right now, amelia is a legal advisor at the wizengamot, assisting with cases, working on arguments and compiling evidence, always bristling at how useless aurors are at paperwork. she hates the ministry, partly, but wants to fix it from within. her dream is to get a seat at the wizengamot, and eventually grow further, too. her ambitions run deep, as does her idealism, and together those will get her far.

she’s also more closed off than she was before. i think that amelia was a lot warmer as a teen, and definitely a lot more spontaneous. now, though, she is focused deeply on the tasks at hand and cynical, scared of loving more people than she already does. there’s more to lose when you have more people you love, and all that stuff --- but still, amelia is kind and approachable, but there’s always a hint of distance and coolness. 

does Not take good care of herself. amelia sleeps too little, drinks too much coffee, does not eat enough fruits & veggies and constantly abandons her needs when there’s other, more important things. and there are always more important things ( especially considering she seeks for them )

death & murder tw | the timestamp kind of sent amelia into a state of despair, for a hot second. learning that her brother and his family were killed in the war chilled her to her bones. learning that she was murdered in the far but near future confused her, and scared her. she took a moment to recenter herself, to take in all this new information, and then got to work. i imagine that amelia just stormed into the ministry/the dmle and started working to fix this, using her future position as an argument to have a proper role in the developments. ( merlin knows that the ministry can use a good set of brains, after all, and she has a more than good set. ) she also stuck with the order, of course.

amelia also took it upon herself to research a LOT about the future fates of people she suspected of death eater activity, to know who to trust and who not to. read a lot of archived newspapers and such over the past month. too many. end of tw

personality & details

career woman. fuck the glass ceiling, she’ll break it with her high heels and kiss the shards with her red lipstick and grin while doing it. amelia is successful and will be even more successful and nothing but death can stop her from reaching her goals

in the end, that’s why she was killed --- bc she was unstoppable. if it wasnt for voldemort, she WOULD HAVE become minister for magic, mark my words

caffeine dependent as fuck

kickboxes to let go off some steam and cropped up Stress. she has been doing it ever since her the summer after her fourth year and has a mean right hook and can break your nose if she wants to, but chooses not to. (would rather fight you with words, anyway.)

a levelheaded, realistic queen. 

workaholic, pls tell her to take a break!!!!

she has a deerhound doggo called jimmy and she loves him SO MUCH. dogs are Everything to amelia. she loves dogs so much. 

“men ain’t shit” -- amelia bones, thrice a day, at least

listen she’s just a Queen, that’s all ive got

[bleuebirdarchive]

TOPIC: analysis of veronica’s childhood & it’s lasting affect 

throughout this analysis, i will be referring back to alice miller’s the drama of the gifted child, as that book is A. one written within the time frame that veronica’s somewhat disconnected parents would have purchased a copy and B. really does a lot to tie into my interpretations of veronica’s relationship with her parents, her childhood, and the way she interprets the world and her feelings.

i. 

veronica, at an early age, was clearly a gifted child. she learned extremely quickly. she walked, talked, and even read at an exceptionally early age. with her parents’ draw towards the more high brow standards that world had to offer, they naturally pushed to nurture her growing intellect. they strived to make their home intellectually stimulating and flooded her with books and games meant to challenge and teach. they read parenting books advising that, in order to raise a respectful child, you should treat them as an equal. however, as is the case with many gifted children, veronica is extraordinarily sensitive. she notices things (injustices, people’s shift in emotions, tones) most people don’t see, she has an overwhelming sense of empathy that eats at her, and her emotions are, and have always been, too much for her to handle or process properly. the sawyers aim to treat veronica as an equal, as an adult, over shot her need for understanding and affection. her outward intelligence is misread at a maturity beyond her years and the oversized feelings she bore were taught to be repressed and ignored. as miller describes it, veronica developed ‘the art of not experiencing feelings’ to please her disaffected parents. even in her few acts of attempting to relay her feelings, she was often misunderstood, chastised, and sent to print her thoughts to paper, privately.

These people have all developed the art of not experiencing feelings, for a child can experience her feelings only when there is somebody there who accepts her fully, understands her, and supports her. If that person is missing, if the child must risk losing the mother’s love or the love of her substitute in order to feel, then she will repress her emotions. She cannot even experience them secretly, “just for herself”; she will fail to experience them at all. But they will nevertheless stay in her body, in her cells, stored up as information that can be triggered by a later event.

ii. 

veronica’s position as an only child ( a gifted, ‘different’, child even more so ) teamed with her lack of an opportunity to express her feelings verbally and to others leaves her socially underdeveloped. despite all of her natural charm and charisma, she does not feel as though she fits in or connects with children her own age, or people at large. the mix of being a social outsider unable to form genuine bonds and her parents lack of affection toward her leaves her to be extraordinarily lonely. her only friend is betty finn, but that friendship is thin and superficial, especially when we think about childhood and how that lends to deeper bonds within friendships. in reality, veronica’s sole companion is her diary (and her cat, jfk, which she receives around her 10th birthday). veronica is not someone that simmers on her sadness or her self pity, but this extremely profound loneliness manifests itself in a lot of ways. some are more positive: her need to speak up for others, to right wrongs she sees in the world, and to be some kind of beacon of kindness for the underdogs. but more often, they’re not: self injury, acting out, and, especially, turning that pain into anger. the last of those definitely makes itself known the older she gets (particularly in the time frame of the film).

The function all expressions of contempt have in common is the defense against unwanted feelings. Contempt simply evaporates, having lost its point, when it is no longer useful as a shield—against the child’s shame over his desperate, unreturned love; against his feeling of inadequacy; or above all against his rage that his parents were not available [...] Nevertheless, if we avoid this mourning it means that we remain at bottom the one who is despised, for we have to despise everything in ourselves that is not wonderful, good, and clever. Thus we perpetuate the loneliness of childhood: We despise weakness, helplessness, uncertainty—in short, the child in ourselves and in others.

furthermore, this disconnect with others is perpetuated by veronica’s very self. she is a beautiful, intelligent, and charming girl. everything about her reads as open for projection for the people around her, who decide they already know her. in every aspect of her life veronica is met with people that have decided on who she is for themselves  :  this makes any attempt on her end to communicate or express herself a frustrating experience as she is nearly always misunderstood. had this not so closely mirrored her relationship with her parents, she may have been able to take it better in stride.

[...] they are aware of having been misunderstood as children, they feel that the fault lay with them and with their inability to express themselves appropriately.

iii.

factoring in her genius i.q. it’s not hard to see why her parents fell a bit short of understanding her. as capable as she is, as self sufficient and independent, they did not feel a need to hold her hand as she went. they wanted to avoid an ego on her, and so her accomplishments were always overlooked or treated as an expectation. winning science fairs, getting good grades, and even being published later in life: there was no fanfare at the sawyer home. there is no drive in her to excel, as well as a notable lack of competitive spirit, because she has never felt pride or excitement in what she can do or has done: there was nobody to share that thrill with. veronica solved her problems the same way she handled everything in her life: alone. while she is more than happy to lend a hand, people expressing their own emotions or struggling to be independent can leave her a little irritated and confused.

People who, as children, were intellectually far beyond their parents and therefore admired by them, but who also therefore had to solve their own problems alone. These people, who give us a feeling of their intellectual strength and will power, also seem to demand that we, too, ought to fight off any feeling of weakness with intellectual means. In their presence one feels one cannot be recognized as a person with problems just as they and their problems were unrecognized by their parents, for whom he always had to be strong.

also in consideration regarding the lack of a response toward her successes ( positive or negative ), as a child, veronica definitely felt as if she was letting them down. she downplays her intelligence and is dissatisfied with her choices no matter what ( i.e. the scene with jd after croquet and the ‘some genius’ dialogue ). veronica wants to please people, however deeply buried this want is, and feels an immense amount of guilt when she feels she has disappointed them in some way.

Many people suffer all their lives from this oppressive feeling of guilt, the sense of not having lived up to their parents’ expectations. This feeling is stronger than any intellectual insight they might have, that it is not a child’s task or duty to satisfy his parents needs. No argument can overcome these guilt feelings, for they have their beginnings in life’s earliest periods, and from that they derive their intensity and obduracy.

conclusion

veronica has a number of issues with emotional intelligence and communication, and with bonding with others. all of this stems back to her parents missing the mark on raising a gifted child and not meeting her emotional needs. as a conclusion, since it’s difficult for me to write a better summation of her childhood-rooted issues, i’m including a quote from this post:

emotional loneliness is so distressing that a child who experiences it will do whatever is necessary to make some kind of connection with the parent. These children may learn to put other people's needs first as the price of admission to a relationship. Instead of expecting others to provide support or show interest in them, they may take on the role of helping others, convincing everyone that they have few emotional needs of their own. Unfortunately, this tends to create even more loneliness, since covering up your deepest needs prevents genuine connection with others.

[frederator-studios]

Graham McTavish: The Frederator Interview

At the moment, Graham McTavish is in Malta getting his head torn off by a Werewolf. Jack Bauer once rammed a fire poker through his chest then slit his throat. He’s been set on fire, drowned, strangled, stabbed, speared, knifed, shot - not to mention, kneed in the balls, punched in the face, even slammed over the back with a log by an over-eager young performer. All in a day’s work for the Scottish actor, who’s played the baddest of baddies on a slew of excellent dramas-with-a-twist, from Preacher to Outlander, 24 to Castlevania. But Graham himself doesn’t view his characters as ‘villains’ - just passionate, complex people, of which Dracula (though he’d resent to be called “human”) is the embodiment. Read on for Graham’s take on playing one of literature’s most iconic, dangerous anti-heroes—from the relative safety of a recording studio.

Are you in LA long?

I’m flying out tonight actually, back to New Zealand. My kids are there, so I split my time. I’m doing Lucifer at the moment for Netflix as well as Castlevania, so I had to come back for a day, yesterday - I flew back just for that. (wow whaaa?) Yeah. I do a lot of traveling, but even for me that’s insane! It’s also unusual for the scheduling to work out perfectly, which it does the next few months. I have an episode gap now, then in October, I do a film in Malta, and the day that wraps, come back to LA to finish Lucifer, and the day after that, fly to Canada to do a film with Willem Dafoe about the Iditarod. I’ve got to learn how to mush a dog sled.

That’s awesome. It’s like getting sponsored to learn a cool obscure skill.

It’s definitely a nice side effect of being an actor. What other job would allow you to learn how to mush a dog sled, unless you were actually becoming a professional dog sled musher? It’ll be great.

How is it for you to switch between characters, with so little time between roles sometimes?

It really depends on your approach to acting. I approach from the point of view of a child. I have two young children, and the great thing about being that age, is they can switch from one thing to another in an instant. Very fluid. I think because I’ve never trained as an actor, I can see work as play. Some actors live as a cobbler for 5 years to play a cobbler, and that’s what works for them. Personally, I pretend. When I'm mushing dogs, I will give the illusion that I really know what I'm doing. That’s what acting is: an illusion that the audience willingly participates in. And everybody is complicit.

You didn’t have professional training?

No. I used to write comic sketches at school with a friend of mine, and we didn't trust anybody else to perform them, so we did. The Drama teacher at school asked me on many occasions to be in a play, but I always said no. Then on one occasion, he asked me to step into a play called “The Rivals” by Sheridan, filling in for an actor who’d fallen ill three days before the production was due to be performed. I said yes. To this day, I have no idea why I agreed. But I did the play, and was of course bitten by the acting bug.

After that, a local Dramatics company asked me to join them, so I did amateur theatre for a year. Then I attended Queen Mary College London University and majored in English literature. I was lucky enough to have a professor who loved Shakespeare and Jacobean drama, and he cast me in all of those plays. As an English Lit major, I was doing two or three Shakespeare plays a year, performing roles that I never would have been given if I'd been at Drama School. I'm not against it, but I don't think it's for everyone. I got my union card in Britain after doing a Beckett play, and then just started working professionally. I also did a lot of Repertory Theatre in the UK, which I think is a great training ground for actors. So it was all slightly accidental, the case with a lot of people.

How did you choose to play Dracula? What about that part compelled you?

I played him onstage once, a great experience. Dracula is the sort of character people love guiltily. If you get the opportunity to play that, it's a no-brainer. Just reading Bram Stoker’s book, your sympathy is with Dracula, in many ways. You live the story through him. It's such a wonderful ride to be playing a man whose been alive for hundreds and hundreds of years. Dracula plays to our secret desires, our secret fears. I think in all of us, there is a fascination with the idea of living forever. Fear of living forever, and fear of death; the Dracula myth plays on that edge. It’s so powerful because it takes something that we all have to face one day and says, what if you didn’t? But in gaining immortality, you lose something very important. Dracula is very enviable in some ways, but is also deeply sad and tragic.

How is it, playing tragic characters?

Among the few advantages of getting older is you have more life experience, including with tragedy. It’s inevitable. And you can draw on those memories. But you can also draw on your fears as well. I did a scene in Outlander, toward the end, where my brother is dying. I thought of my own father, and all the things I never said to him. Those emotions definitely informed that scene. When tragedy and death and loss touch your life, you carry those feelings into your future.

Are you an animation fan?

I love animation, I grew up with it. Along with books, it was my first experience of storytelling. Cartoons, as we called them; they fired my childhood imagination. It’s like how we were talking earlier, about children, and the profundity of animation to them. The first film I saw in a theatre was Walt Disney’s Peter Pan. I was five and had no question that those characters were real. To such an extent that when they took the posters down at the cinema, I got upset. I was like, “But where’s Peter? Where’s he gone?” Because I thought Peter lived in the cinema. I still get absorbed into great pieces of animation, when the artistry is powerful, and it’s part of my attraction to doing animated work. And this show, Castlevania, is particularly beautiful.

How were you introduced to the project, and did you have expectations going in?

I knew it was going to be great. I was recording Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when the Voice and Casting Director, Meredith Layne, pulled me aside. She said she was on a project and couldn’t tell me much, but she thought I’d be a fit, and would I like to be considered? Meredith has great taste, so I said “Of course” and sent in a tape. And when I heard that Warren Ellis was the writer, that was a huge attraction. I love his comic book work, and fiction as well. The Crooked Little Vein is one of my favorite books. Really, it couldn’t not be great, and the more I learned of the creative team behind it, the more sure I was. Everything put into the show - the casting, directing, producing, animation - elevates it so hugely above anything comparable. I love that it occupies this unique space.

What do you feel Castlevania’s Dracula uniquely brings to the character?

It’s his being human that makes it so interesting. When I portrayed Dracula onstage, there was no suggestion that that version of him felt love, or experienced empathy. But in this production, a woman, Lisa, takes him by surprise. She makes him feel, and turns his life around. I love that, because everybody can relate. You think your life is one way, then you meet someone who changes everything, opens your life up, makes you think about it differently - and makes it more enjoyable to be alive. And since Dracula is essentially dead, that irony is very clever.

Do you have a favorite representation of vampires in Media?

I'm a little biased, but I love the portrayal of Cassidy by Joe Gilgun in Preacher. It’s so unconventional. Herzog’s Nosferatu springs to mind, just incredible. Gary Oldman’s Dracula is wonderful. And I loved Let the Right One In, the original Swedish version. It’s genius. It took something familiar as a vampire story and gave it a whole new spin.

You work so much in the fantasy genre - is that purposeful?

Oh yeah. I love the variety. I've been a Viking, a Roman - twice - after always dreaming of playing one, I got to be one for a whole year. Growing up in the UK, you never imagine yourself getting to be a cowboy. On the first season of Preacher, there was a scene I rode into a western town: the whole duster coat with the Stetson guns, surrounded by horses and wagon trains, all the paraphernalia. I had to look cool and unbothered. I wanted to jump up and down in excitement. I was so, pathetically excited. I did a season of 24, and I’d been a huge fan. Every day I’d go up to the producers telling them I was a huge fan. After a while, they’d say, “Yeah, great, we get it. You like the show. You’re in it now, so if you could just be the character that’d be great.”

And I still get a pathetically childish enjoyment out of playing Dracula. What kid doesn’t want to play Dracula?! I once talked to Lance Henriksen, and he said one of the reasons he went into acting was to be thousands of people. You get to be a cowboy and a vampire and a dog musher and a Highlander in the 18th century and a dwarf in Middle Earth. I'd definitely rather do any of that than put on a suit and do a courtroom scene. Not that I wouldn’t! I’ve just never been asked. No one’s ever looked at me and said, “Let’s cast him as The Dad.”

Have you ever played a “Castlevania” game?

I am a terrible game player.

But, but - your voice is in like every game of the past decade!

Yes, I have done loads of video games. I did a franchise called “Uncharted”. Award-winning; incredibly popular. Never played them. I played one game years ago with my friend, called “Gears of War”. I was so bad at it. I'm the guy that shoots in a circle around his feet. I’m useless at them.

Your character's bad-assery makes up for it. Anything to say to fans of the show, in advance of season two?

I just really hope you enjoy it and get carried along with the story and and want to see more. That’s always the greatest thing, if you can get the fans to clamor for more ❀

Follow Graham on Twitter and Instagram

Thank you for the interview Graham! Without a doubt, you’re the kindest chronic bad guy I’ve come across. 

- Cooper ❀

(Craving another CV interview? Read Richard Armitage’s here.)

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (6/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part).

He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.  [Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Part 7 ]

Part 6

The soldiers filed out after them, most setting off in different directions while two took up guard positions on either side of the office door. Gil turned towards the summit room where he could hear the curious voices of the other attendants but his father's grip nearly stole his breath, forcing him in another direction.

"But the meeting," Gil protested as he was guided down another hall with guards now stationed every ten meters.

"Barkley will be assisting for the rest of the day."

"But-"

They turned the corner to the guest wing, one of their attendants seeing them coming and opening the door. The Baron shoved Gil into the room; Gil nearly tripping over his feet. He stumbled into a settee then spun just as his father released his pent up disgust.

"What were you thinking?" His voice hit octaves Gil had never heard before.

He swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything wrong. You said-"

His father grabbed his hands roughly, pulling them up his face. "This says otherwise."

Gil glanced at his raw knuckles, two spit and bleeding--or maybe that was Tarvek's blood--then quickly found something else to stare at.

His father dropped his hands in annoyance. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gil fought back the lump in his throat. All the years of trying to prove to his father he was worth something--worth his time and attention. And one afternoon with his rival destroyed that little bit of trust he'd built through all of those experiments and procedures. He shook off the feeling of helplessness and anger.

"Well?"

All of his reason fled under his father's disapproving scrutiny allowing only one thing to escape. "He started it," Gil said to his feet feeling six-years-old again and knowing the instant he said it that it was the wrong thing.

His father growled. "Unacceptable."

Gil sighed. "I know--I tried to stop, to not engage, but-"

His father only watched him, waiting for a proper explanation. There was no point in lying. "I told you this was a bad idea--Tarvek hates me. He attacked me for no reason."

"No reason?"

"I swear--I was only talking to Anev- I mean the Princess."

His father's eyebrow shot up the same moment Gil realized his mistake; he was supposed to be observing at the luncheon, not exploring the castle with Anevka. Gil sighed, slumping against the sofa and carefully rubbing his sore face--there was no talking his way out of this.

"This was a peace summit and you are an official representative of the Empire. I expect the utmost attention to protocol-"

"I know; I'm sorry."

"You've embarrassed the Empire with your behavior. I'm disappointed."

Gil winced at some of the harshest words he could ever receive from his father.

"Herr Victori," the Baron called into the sitting room, getting the attention of an older gentleman whose job was officially to keep files. The man approached, wary of the Baron's ill temper.

"Yes, Herr Baron?"

"You will make sure Herr Hozfaller remains in our quarters for the rest of the afternoon.

He will stand at attention until I return--maybe that will teach him some discipline."

Gil's eyes snapped up to his father's. He wanted to shout and scream and demand to know why he was being punished for doing nothing but defending himself and his reputation, but he bit his tongue and straightened his back, chin high.

Victori glanced between them, obviously uneasy with the tension and his task. "Of course, Herr Baron," he finally said.

His father paused at the door, studying Gil like he had something else to stay but only frowned before leaving Gil standing at attention for the next few hours.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Tarvek said for the fifth time since everyone had fled his father's mounting wrath--not that anyone noticed any more than the first four times.

His father and sister stood on either side of him shouting their disappointment at him and each other and the world but mostly about him like he wasn't even in the room. The noise was making Tarvek ill.

He took two steps away before his father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back hard. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I just need to sit down," he said meekly, the room starting to spin.

"Unbelievable."

A knock on the door ended the rest of his father's rant. He let go of Tarvek with a shove, sending him stumbling on unsteady legs, regaining his footing and straightening his shirt just as his father called, "enter."

One of the servants poked his head in looking more than a little nervous as his eyes darted around the room. Tarvek wondered how much he had heard--the rumors would be lighting through the castle like that fungus Anevka grew.

"Yes," barked his father, making the servant jump.

The man cleared his throat and entered fully, standing tall. "The summit, Your Highness--the other delegates-"

His father huffed. "Yes, yes. Tell them I'll be there in a moment. Has the Baron returned?"

"Not as yet."

"Well, there's that," he muttered then turned to his children, face less red but eyes still blazing. "Anevka, you will accompany me through the afternoon's meetings."

Anevka nodded. "Of course, Father."

"Tarvek-"

Tarvek swallowed hard before forcing himself to meet his father's hard, disgusted stare.

"Go get yourself cleaned up--I'll deal with you later." With that, the two swept out of the room, the servant scampering after them.

After the door slammed shut, Tarvek let out a long breath and slumped against the desk with a groan. "What have I done," he mumbled.

He took several minutes to center himself before finally sneaking out the side door into the private quarters of the royal family. Inside his room, he collapsed onto his bed, head swimming. The clothes he'd gone through earlier were still spread out around him, and the mostly empty bottle of brandy sat on the bedside table where he'd left it.

In a sudden surge of anger and self-loathing, he rolled off the bed, grabbed the bottle and slammed into the wall across from him, barely noticing the shower of glass that pelted his legs before dropping to the floor, head buried in his knees.

* * *

Violetta watched from the corner as her cousin crumbled, silently sobbing as he hugged his legs to his chest. She'd rarely ever seen Tarvek lose his cool even when he'd get hurt during training--she'd always tried to be just as calm although she rarely lived up to that dream. 

Seeing him fall apart scared her more than it should and tore at her heart which was even more wrong. Empathy was weakness and Smoke Knights didn't have the luxury of being weak.

Something slick slid down her cheek, plopping onto her cloak. She wiped at her face, fingers coming away slick with blood; she found several other small cuts around her eye. Shaking the remaining shards from her cloak, she stepped out of the dark to stand in front of Tarvek--he'd wallowed enough.

"Martellus is up to something," she said matter-of-factly.

Tarvek sucked in a shuddering breath but didn't look at her. Had she actually managed to surprise him?

It took him a moment to get himself together before he let his head fall back against the bed with a sigh. "When is Martellus not up to something?"

Violetta ignored Tarvek's tear-stained face as she joined him on the floor, close enough to offer support but not touching. She wanted to ask if he was okay but that was too close to caring so instead she said, "what are we going to do about him?"

Tarvek sighed. "Why do we have to do anything?"

"Because he's up to something."

"Violetta-" His words cut short as he finally looked at her, his eyes growing wide before shifting to the broken bottle inches from where she'd been hiding. Just as quickly, he averted his gaze, staring at his feet. "I'm sorry."

Violetta frowned at the broken glass then at Tarvek's shoes then at him before shrugging as her only reply. Why was he sorry? He was the one to teach her about feelings and weakness and control.

"About Martellus," she said, trying to refocus his attention.

That seemed to work as Tarvek hopped to his feet, thrusting his hands through his tangled hair. "I have more important things to worry about than whatever stupid plot Tweedle is up to."

"But this is important. He-"

"Enough!"

Violetta jumped up, hands on her hips and right in Tarvek's face. "What is wrong with you? You always told me to watch him and report any suspicious activity."

"And earlier I told you to stay away from him--he's dangerous, and I don't have time to keep you from getting hurt."

Anger bubbled up from a well deep inside that she fought constantly to keep capped. She launched herself at Tarvek, slamming into his back, nearly taking him to the ground. "I don't need you to protect me--I can take care of myself like I always do."

"Fine, go take care of yourself somewhere else."

They glared at each other for long seconds before Violetta broke, spinning away before he could see the tears blurring her vision. She shouldn't be upset at him yelling at her, she told herself. It's not like they were friends.

Technically, Violetta worked for Tarvek and his family--she was a servant just like all the other cowed subjects in the castle, but Tarvek had never treated her like that--not when it was just the two of them alone. But in the end, she was just a Smoke Knight sworn to protect the family and ultimately expendable.

So why did his rejection hurt so much?

With a swish of her cloak, she disappeared into the darkness before she did something stupid like demand to know why Tarvek was being such a jerk.

* * *

Gil's back and shoulder's ached from standing at attention for so long.

He could hear the clock ticking on the mantle behind him but refused to budge no matter how much Victori fretted and insisted he wouldn't tell.

This day just got worse and worse like he knew in his gut it would from the moment he learned of the summit. 

"Should have listened to me," he muttered,  getting the older man's attention. Gil bit his lip, raised his chin and continued to stare at the door, waiting for his father to return. He would show him--Gil had discipline. He wasn't a disappointment.

The word bounced around his head fueling an alternating current of anger and regret. Maybe he was a disappointment. Maybe that's why his father kept him hidden for so many years, why he was still keeping him a secret, not for his safety like he said. Maybe he's always just been a face--another puppet to the Empire--here to serve his purpose and nothing more.

Gil sucked in a breath, holding it until his lungs burned. This line of thoughts never ended anywhere healthy.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a rest?" Victori asked for the hundredth time, glancing at the door then back to Gil. "A snack perhaps?"

Gil let the breath out slowly but didn't acknowledge the man. It's not that the thought Victori was trying to get him in trouble. On the contrary, he thought the man only trying to be helpful and understanding, but Gil's pride was much stronger than his discomfort.

Pride--one thing he definitely got from his father. The thought almost made him laugh as his lips curled into a slight grin that seemed to unnerve his nervous guard.

Victori wrung his hands before picking up a glass of water. "Maybe you would-"

Before he could finish, the door to the room flew open, letting in a loud group including the Baron, Barkley and several Sturmhalten servants that arranged a quick tea. Once the servants left and the Baron's attendants were seated around the table, Gil's father finally addressed him, hands held lightly behind his back like this was any other day.

Gil kept his eyes straight ahead which left them staring at a button just below the collar of his father's shirt--it had a little Wulfenbach emblem on it.

"Follow me," he said after a moment, brushing past Gil and into the adjoining bedroom suite.

Gil let out a soft breath, spun on his heel and ignored the pointed stares of the others in the room. His father waited then shut the door behind them before collapsing with a sigh onto a small sofa set at the end of the bed. Gil waited, confused, while his father rubbed at his face.

Was his father actually tired? Showing weakness? The incongruity of that spun his head around--maybe the world was coming to an end.

With another sigh, the Baron shifted, patting the spot next to him. "Come, sit, Gil; we need to talk."

Yep, the world was definitely ending.

He cautiously joined his father on the sofa, keeping his distance in case it was some kind of trick--he wouldn't put something like that past him. When nothing happened, Gil leaned forward slightly and asked, "are you well, Father?"

This seemed to snap the Baron out of his thoughts. "It's been a long day."

Gil nodded. "It has.” Longer than Gil wished to dwell on, mostly because he had to dwell on Tarvek, and he wished to keep his old friend as far from his thoughts as he could. It was proving more difficult than he thought after everything that happened.

"Have you had enough time to consider your behavior today?"

Gil cringed then fell back against the sofa in a slouch that rumpled his heavy coat. His father simply waited, arms resting on his knees--Gil knew there was no getting out of this conversation or lecture.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually. "It's not like I meant for all of this to happen. I warned you-"

"Ah, this is about your behavior; do not try to shift blame to someone else."

Gil glared at his father, fighting back angry words that would do his cause little good until he could no longer hold the older man's steady gaze.

"What lessons have you taken from today's events?"

I should have listened to my gut and stayed on Castle Wulfenbach. Not that he could ever say that so he sighed. "I should have stayed at the luncheon instead of running off with Anevka like I was supposed to."

Then I probably wouldn't have encountered Tarvek.

His father let out a breath. "The Princess is trouble as much as her brother ever was if not more--the entire family-"

"I know, I know; you've mentioned it a time or two," Gil interrupted with annoyance. "We were just having some fun."

Reaching into an inner pocket of his coat, his father pulled out a folded sheet of paper that revealed several very unflattering drawings and mismatched scribbled comments. Gil groaned, sinking even further down in the sofa as his father snorted in apparent amusement.

"I think you need to work on your technique," he said, dropping the paper on Gil's lap.

Gil picked it up, stared at Anevka's neat penmanship then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket across the room.

His father laughed again which Gil found more than a little unsettling. Klaus Wulfenbach has a sense of humor? Who knew?

"Gilgamesh," the Baron said, sitting up a little more seriously, "I know your experience with young ladies is somewhat limited by your circumstances-"

"Ugh," Gil yelled, shooting to his feet, "it wasn't like that at all. We were just talking. I was- I was gathering intel like you said."

The look his father gave him said he didn't believe that for a second forcing a furious blush to heat Gil's face and neck. He dropped back onto the sofa, face buried his hands.

His father patted his shoulder with another snort. "When we get back home, we'll have to talk more about this--women are-" He paused considering his words. "Complicated."

"Father, please," Gil moaned.

Another laugh, another pat and his father got up. Retrieving a case from a bureau across the room, he opened it on the bed behind Gil. Before Gil could fully turn to see what his father had, something sharp stabbed him in the neck.

He fell back, holding his neck and blinking as the room spun a little. "What was that?"

His father held up a syringe of glittery purple liquid and squirted a small amount out of the tip. "Inoculation," he answered before capping the needle.

Gil blinked even more furiously. "Inoculation for what?"

"Oxfam's Hypnotosia--Barkley did say it was going around."

Gil shook his head which just made his neck hurt more. "The clucking disease?"

His father just continued to return things to his case as if Gil wasn't freaking out a meter away from him.

"Why didn't you get one then if it's so contagious?

"I don't need one. Now go get ready for supper."

"Supper?" Gil asked, dropping the subject of then inoculation knowing full well his father would never elaborate on anything.

His father placed the case back on the bureau just as Barkley knocked on the door then poked his head in nervously. "Yes, supper," he said, stopping Barkley with a hand up so he could finish with Gil. "We're eating with the royal family tonight, and you will be on your best behavior. None of this feud nonsense from earlier. No excuses," he added when Gil opened his mouth to protest.

With that, the conversation was over and the Baron was waving Barkley into the room. Gil snapped his jaw shut, clenching it tightly to refrain from saying something else he'd regret.

Why doesn't he ever listen, Gil wondered as he marched down a short hallway in the suite to his much smaller room that, thankfully, had a private bath. He tossed his coat on a chair, not bothering to worry about wrinkles and discarded his waistcoat and shirt on the bed as he made his way into the bathroom.

"He never listens--nobody every listens," he told his reflection which glared back at him until Gil let out a long sigh, dropping his head. "Story of my life," he mumbled.

Until Tarvek.

The thought hit him like a steam engine, stealing his breath. Before then and since, he'd screamed and yelled and begged to be seen, but no one ever paid him any attention. But Tarvek had listened to his ideas, had wanted to know more, wanted to talk about everything. Tarvek had cared right up until Gil messed it all up and lost the only friend he'd ever had.

He sucked in a long breath then let it out slowly, pushing all the memories into a corner of his mind to hopefully never think about ever again. He knew that was a lost cause the second he thought it because he had to face Tarvek at supper and for the rest of the summit; it was going to end badly no matter how well he behaved.

But then there was a part of him that wanted Tarvek's attention--any kind of attention was better than silence and glares filled with loathing and anger. He hated himself a little for being so desperate and pathetic. It's not like he could ever fix things with his ex-friend. How do you even apologize for a betrayal of that magnitude?

"You can't," he whispered then shook himself out. The whole line of thought was pointless--he needed to focus on surviving the rest of the week but more importantly, surviving supper.

Despite his resolution to not think about Tarvek or their history, his mind kept wandering back to it while he cleaned himself up and got dressed in his clean, fancy clothes that he hated. Give him work pants and a lab coat any day.

God, he missed the lab.

Ever since his father dragged him into this apprentice farce, Gil hadn't had any time to be in his lab--the one good thing that ever came out of those events six years ago. Another pointless train of thought derailing his focus tonight.

With another sigh, he fixed the top button of his shirt and secured his Wulfenbach sigil, straightening it in the mirror, surprised by the burst of pride it gave him to wear the stupid thing. Silly really since all Wulfenbach employees wore one, but Gil was a Wulfenbach which mean it was his sigil for whatever that was worth.

"Gilgamesh," his father called from outside the door.

"Coming," he shouted back as the small smile slid from his face. He straightened his shoulders and forced a neutral expression because Wulfenbachs never showed emotion if they could help it, at least that's what Gil took away from his father's constant calm.

In the main room, Barkley and the other attendants hovered around the Baron nervously, some still giving reports from their day of probably nefarious activities.

His father shot him a disapproving look then headed to the door without a word.

Great, already in trouble and not even at the supper yet. It was going to be a long night.

Outside their suite, a guard waited, snapping to attention as soon as the door opened. "Escort," he said making it clear this wasn't optional.

His father nodded, letting the guard lead the way and showing none of the annoyance Gil was having a difficult time hiding as he trailed behind the two.

His stomach knotted the farther they got from their quarters. He tried to memorize the way the same he did while exploring with Anevka but kept getting distracted by the feeling the paintings on the wall were watching him. Knowing the castle and the family that lived here, he wouldn't be surprised if they were being watched from portraits. The idea creeped him out and he hurried to catch up with the others.

* * *

Tarvek sat slumped in the chair in his room where he'd been since Violetta left him feeling alone and full of guilt for how he treated her.

Why had he said that?

Out of everyone in his life, Violetta was the only one he could trust--the only one that didn't seem to have ulterior motives or sinister plots to exploit him like the rest of his family including his father and sister. Violetta actually cared about him which, unfortunately, was a weakness that needed to be flushed out of her if she was going to survive.

He ran a hand over his face, wincing at the bruises. Could this day get any worse?

"Probably," Anevka said from the doorway startling him out of his morose thoughts. He blinked at her with a frown getting a snort from her.

"Yes, this day can probably get worse, especially if you're in this funk at supper where Father will be watching you like a hawk."

Tarvek slouched down further, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with a groan. "I said that out loud?"

Anevka laughed again then sat with a flourish on his bed where she picked up one of his discarded shirts between two fingers, tossing it to the floor.

"You need to get dressed."

Tarvek knew this.

"And cleaned up--you look like you were kicked by a cranky mule."

He knew this too but only sunk deeper into the chair until he was nearly falling out of it. "Close enough," he muttered into his chest.

Anevka clucked at him. "This is your own doing, dummy. What were you even thinking attacking the Baron's apprentice? And don't blame the, what is this?” She sniffed at the glass beside his bed. "Brandy? Is this the stuff we stole last week?" Her fond smile only managed to anger Tarvek even more.

"You don't understand," he said, suddenly jumping up to pace across the room, his boots crunching over shattered glass.

Anevka played with her dress, spreading the flowing green skirt out around her. "What don't I understand?"

Tarvek ground his teeth as he ground the glass under his heel, suddenly remembering the blood on Violetta's cheek. His eyes darted to the dark corner behind the door--had she been standing there when he threw the bottle? His stomach dropped out.

"Tarvek, honey," his sister said, reminding him very much of their mother, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He couldn't bear to look at her, afraid she'd see the shame scorching his skin. He could have killed Violetta; he could have killed Holzfäller if Violetta hadn't intervened--she was always looking out for him. Because it's her job, a little voice whispered, but he didn't believe that not after the hurt she'd tried to hide when he'd dismissed her like any old servant. What was wrong with him?

"Tarvek?"

He turned slowly at Anevka's alarmed tone. She eyed him warily, fingers playing with the ruffles of her dress--the style was from last season and the color clashed horribly with her hair, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. He shook his head clear before facing her fully, his shoulders falling in defeat.

"What don't I understand, little brother?" She reached her hand out to him and he took it greedily, needing her care and attention like a child needed a mother and Anevka was as close to a mother as he had.

"Holzfäller and I-" He paused, considering his words. "We have history."

"How? We just met him today."

Tarvek cringed knowing he'd have to tell her now or she'd never let it go.

[ Part 7 ]

[royal-writer]

The Adoption

I’m not crying YOU’RE crying....

The heat of the fire crackled warm, but the best part was where she sat; scrunched up and nestled into the familiar scent of oak trees and amber hues. Warmth surrounded her in the huddled blankets. Hugged to her, with an arm around her and the other situated in the folds of one of her lover’s cloaks as he held a hand to hers. Their fingertips gradually warmed, and his breath soft to her nape as they nuzzled lazily against each other. Limbs and bodies folding closer; unable to mold together beneath all the layers of furs and fabrics but the outline of him was still a heaven she knew well.

With his whiskers grown thicker, they felt rougher and wiry in the early brisk of winter. Essätha tried not to snicker at the way her beloved Lord burrowed himself against her upturned collar to inhale the scent of perfume dabbed to her skin. His lips were soft; tracing against the side of her throat.

Sighing, she held her gaze upon the twists and curls of the flames. A thought that had been nagging her brain tugged relentlessly. It had been a seed of a thought; sprouting and soon becoming a destructive weed ensnaring her mind.

They hadn’t had a discussion in baring children in months. Too equally nervous of their ages; Amon more openly concerned for her carrying. The commitment would cut into their travel schedules, their workload, their social requirements. The time it took to raise a child would be monumental at that.

Nobles did this sort of stuff all the time. Amon had done it once before. But it abolished routine, and it came with too much risk. The more time went by, the more danger the physicians warned it would present. The young and beautiful bore their children straight away usually. The old were left to fate and luck if an aging body could handle the strain. Especially for a first child; not used to the imbalance it would cause.

With a faint laugh at the teasing barely-there brush of his beard, Essie turned her face to kiss his forehead. His sigh was magical. Filled with content and joy as he lifted his face for her to lightly peck his charmingly shaped lips. Her eyes grinning with her smile as she looked into his darkened eyes through a collection of small, grazing kisses of sweetness.

“My handsome husband,” she breathed softly.

With a broadening grin, Amon spoke against her mouth as he murmured in reply: “My wonderful wife.”

She hummed a pleasant note at the sound of such endearing words on such a husky voice. Her body shifted; worming through the trap of comforting cloth to release her hand not held from the heat of her layers. Her fingers carded through his coal black locks, slipping around to hold the side of his face as she circled her fingers over the rise of his cheekbone as he smiled. Only the most pure and wholesome version of love in his gaze. Only the gentlest touch to her scaled hand as he slipped his fingers between her spaces to press his palm to hers.

Her nerves tried clamping down upon her mouth. She pushed past the weariness, finding safety and understanding in the searching light of his gaze. Specks of light from the hearth like starlight glistening and moving over his vision as Caesar yawned and stretched upon the floor; curling himself tighter into a ball after flopping closer to the fireplace.

“What do you think about adoption, my love?”

A peculiar lop-sided grin stretched crookedly into place. His features strained, as though trying to hold the position in place rather than frown.

“It’s… always an available option,” he cautioned.

Though the words did not rise up in his throat, she could swear she felt a small twinge of pain strike her form his heartstrings.

“It would eliminate the worry of me carrying,” Essätha reminded him quietly. “We wouldn’t need to get a child very young, either. There are plenty of children looking for loving homes.”

Watching how Amon’s face grew flat, she pressed a kiss to his cheek as she whispered, “You don’t have to hold back your opinion, m’lord Amon. If it makes you unhappy-”

His hand squeezed hers reassuringly beneath her blankets and coats.

“I think it’s worth looking into,” he agreed softly. “But we should not be rash in jumping into parenthood.”

Relief swam through her in the form of a sigh and wide-eyed look of hope. It was better than a ‘no’. It gave her something to aspire for.

Between the creases in his brow with thoughtful worry and the half-smile in place, his eyes were an endless field of thought. Some she came to understand swiftly; a sorrow like so many you could never fully shake. It sat dormant, usually, but it came and went like tides at sea. Some days the memory of his dear Marie were too hard to bear. Some days when the mention of children came up, it clouded his eyes and hung over him like a dreary storm for days.

But there was equally layers of anticipation. A yearning not quite grasped. It burdened her heart, not knowing what it was for. If he held to the idea of children in any way she did; longing and loving and wanting to hold and protect someone so small and innocent. Raise another, where they could lead a life knowing they were loved. They would always have a sense of family; always someone to protect their back, to look after them, to nurture them and be proud to watch them grow and become what they wished.

She did not wish for him to spare his feelings and happiness for her desires. She prayed he would not give in to her, simply because it was something she had always wanted.

“Let’s discuss it tomorrow, when there’s no wine still on our breathes or hazing our decisions,” Amon teased her, releasing her hand to sneak his own out and gather the one against his face. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand, before taking her chilled hand back beneath the huddle of blankets to warm them once more with tender caresses.

Essätha nodded, too overjoyed; and too anxious, for words. Her smile eager all the while, as her beloved leaned in to seal his promise with a kiss so dreamy and gentle it left her breathless for what felt like the entire night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the coming months, they discussed the idea on and off with serious debate. The effects it would hold, both good and bad. How the adoption process played out; what sort of age ranges they might look into.

With still questions to be had, they turned to the church of Pelor for answers.

The priests, priestess, clerics and other training figures under the name of the God of Light were all warmly gracious to their approach, and sought to their inquires with dignity and clear-cut answers like a well-sharpened blade. They were shown the foundling wheel, where sometimes babies and very young were left by parents who left their infants without the repercussion of needing to answer as to why. They met a few adopted children in the town, to speak of their experiences and with their parents.

They were asked their own questions. A few insecure eyes darted over Lord Amon’s locked jaw, chiseled features, and tight eyes. Sometimes standing too stiffly and erect; trying to mask the stench of hurt and sadness that washed over him from time to time.

Unfortunately, Briarton’s residents were all too familiar with the young lady Marie, and of her loss. They stared with pity, or a mix of that and confusion as the word spread throughout the town that they were considering taking in a child.

Some people had their viewpoints, of course. Essie was grateful most of them were offered to her, rather than Amon. Fearing his reaction, no doubt.

She listened with as much grace as she could. Sometimes it was polite; encouraging, understanding. Sometimes it was not so. Judgmental and crude; spitting on race, her values, her stature. Some called her ‘careless’, others said they were too old for such things.

Essätha held on to her faith, but not too strongly. After all, though many years of her life had been spent fondly loving the idea of having kids, she had never thought she’d truly have the chance.

This could very well be that chance.

But she watched, ever loving and always worried, to her Lord Amon. Listening for the cues in his voice that would shape the beginning or end of this journey.

What would come next, she would accept with love and empathy. It was all she could do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Winter was mostly though when they visited the temple again for another meeting with the high-priest. There was frost bleeding into water and snowdrift melting in the streets. Amon held an arm around her; puffy swirls of white smoke like dragons ready to employ their greatest weapon ushering from their mingled breathes interlocked so closely.

Before they came upon the heavy set of doors, a priestess cleaning the steps greeted them. She ushered them inside warmly, offering coffee which they denied.

“Let me go fetch the minister; my Lord and Lady, he’ll be pleased to see you both again.”

“Thank you,” Amon murmured softly, his face appearing tired and worn.

Feeling a clinging sense of agony for him, Essätha held firmly to his hand. She didn’t relax until the pressure was returned to her, with a small smile and affection eyes.

As a robed gentleman greeted them, they were brought into a private wing of the shrine. A cleric and some devote followers were tending to some sickly patients, offering their healing words and last rites to some. Among the assistants were some older teenagers Essie recognized from previous visits. Young but not lost. Some abandoned once; others from family’s who were gone too soon, but they had found sanctuary and teachings in the place of the church.

Amon was engrossed in conversational greetings and tense discussion of their visit, when Essätha slipped away from his side. She greeted the people within the room with politeness. Held the hand of a man losing his final breath as he praised her good work in the town- mumbling something about strange it was for his failing eyes to lay upon an angel one last time (that had been enough to cause her eyes to weep, though she withheld until the widowed man had passed and was offered plenty of handkerchiefs for her runny nose). She passed treats unto the young and those hard at work and god a bit of scolding for doing so by an older priestess (she swore that woman hated her).

Stepping around a draped curtain, Essätha beamed upon the youthful woman’s backside with which she saw. They turned their head to her approach.

“Lady Essätha! Back again I see. May Pelor Light your path, my Lady.”

“Essie or Essätha works just fine, Margret,” she reminded the pale complexion of the woman with a laugh, stepping curious closer.

“Oh,” the woman murmured, turning to show what she had cradled in her arms. “She’s a new arrival. Dropped off at the founding wheel a few days ago.”

Essie stared, mystified. Before she could utter a word, however, a sharp cry jolted her from the right.

“Must be the twins at it again,” Margret sighed, offering the swaddled figure to her. “Would you mind, for just a moment, my Lady?”

“I- I- o-o-of course-”

The baby settled into her awaiting arms couldn’t be more than a few years old. Her skin was dark; much darker than her own, and she had hair black as a raven’s wing. She was large enough to fight against the blanket wrapped around her; grumbling and babbling nonsense as her dark eyes peered up beneath dark lashes.

She had pointy little ears protruding from beneath the depths of her curls. A hand reached up as she fought for her freedom, patting to Essie’s face.

She didn’t even hear the woman leave. There was something about the elf-child; or at least partial elf-child, that felt too deep.

The baby sneezed. She froze, her eyes starting to water as though frightened by the loudness of her own body.

“Oooh no no tears,” Essätha soothed, wiping at her eyes before the wailing could begin as she bounced the tiny figure up and down in her arms. “No tears now, little one. It was only a sneeze.”

“Maaa mamama,” the child mouthed, her wobbly lip disappearing as she went back to patting her face.

Oh no. Oh no oh no, she loved her. Loved the dark little freckles speckling over her nose and cheeks, loved the mostly-toothless smile and gurgling giggles.

“Essätha, my darling,” Amon’s voice carried; a hand parting aside the curtains. “The priest wanted us to��. To…”

He stared down at what was in her arms instantly as she looked up to him. Defensively as the sheet had been parted, she held the youngster tighter to her chest as though fearing someone would snatch it from her.

She studied his blank expression as her arms grew lax to let the child be seen. Her little feet kicked wildly; squirming in her arms.

“Maaama. Mamamama… Maaaa…”

Essätha snorted back laughter as the child grabbed at her mouth and nose. Curiously working her way up as she tried to scale her; prodding at the scales on her face.

Amon stepped closer. The swish of his cloak moving against the floor.

Realizing that a shadow had befallen them, the little girl craned her head back to look up at his face. Essie held her smile; a sense of worry eating at her insides. She looked between the babe’s wondering face, and the lack of expression on her beloved’s.

Tentatively, the elf reached out. Her hand managed to grab a fistful of Amon’s beard, and she yanked.

Amon grunted, teasing the tiny hand free so that it held to his finger instead.

“Strong grip,” he observed; a rasp in his voice and twinkle in his gaze.

“Daaaaa,” the babe responded with passionate excitement; holding to his finger with a white-grip. “Daaaddaaa daaa…”

The smile that stretched across his face held so many countless memories in Essätha’s mind. It softened his eyes, and drew away all signs of aging and agony from his features. Smoothed over into a sense of calm, of joy. So much happiness, that he seemed to forget about the world, forget about everything but the moment.

He moved his hand slowly, grinning wider as the little girl squealed with delight.

With an adoring smile on her face, Essie looked between her husband and the child. His arm moved behind her to the small of her back as they huddled closer, staring down at the curious umber eyes looking back at them. Her quiet babble growing louder; more boisterous as she switched her attention from Amon’s finger that curled against hers and the unique texture of Essätha’s face as she pawed at her.

She was perfect.

And she would be their first.

[cyrelia-j]

The Case for Jack

(*pats self on the back for not titling this "You don't know Jack"*)

So working on "For the Glory of Morning" resulted in doing a lot of research/character study into Jack which was challenging. Outside of the two episodes where he appears on the show we know precious little about Jack (as well as Lauren and Patrick) so I really had to spend a lot of time rewatching and thinking about his character. I wanted to share a few thoughts that were bouncing around my head on Jack as well as "make the case" for why he's such an incredible and tragic character and why I've come to love him so much. (And by extension why you will be seeing more Jack stuff here along with writing/drawing more Jack/Julian themed things - Jack/Parmak too as of May 2018-  when Garak/Bashir will always be my biggest love).You can take this with a grain of salt because these are just my own thoughts and possibly projections but any discussion is welcome!

This got long...

The first time I saw Jack (and read the description of him as a "violent, anti-social and aggressive" man) I didn't give him much of a thought beyond those basic descriptors. He comes off as he's meant to be as one of a few foils for Julian to see just how bad off he could have been with his enhancements or as he says "there but for the grace of God go I". We see Jack's antagonism, and while he's interesting to watch he's not easy to "like".

According to wiki he's been at the Institute for 15 years and going by his appearance and the age of the actor portraying him he's roughly the same age as Julian which means he's been at the Institute his entire adult life and likely part of his teenage years. I think it's safe to assume that he likely had a childhood and adolescence full of doctors/therapists/counselors leading up to that point. The reason for his enhancements is never explained but from his comments to Julian about his parents not being able to "afford the full overhaul", his knowledge of 15th century poetry, and [to me] his manner of dress speaks to someone with a monetarily privileged upbringing. 

So you have a child starting out whose parents have paid for a genius and despite the happy portrayals on television, imagine being a child that far above not just your peers but adults as well. It's hard to talk to people that don't understand you- we naturally talk to people starting out with a subconscious expectation that their intelligence will match ours until otherwise indicated and we adjust. For most of us we have a mix of people more and less intelligent than us. Jack never finds anyone he can relate to. People constantly disappoint him. He tries to relate to people. He doesn't understand as a child that other children and adults aren't on his level. He can't comprehend why they don't understand things that he does and his responses come off as condescending. 

You see this when he's talking to Julian. "You had to have known that.""Why would you bring it up" etc. This gets played off as paranoia as part of his personality but here Jack is meeting someone he's told is the same as him, who can understand him so he expects the same unabashed mental shortcuts in speech and thought. Children don't have patience, and Jack never was able to learn that he needed to have patience. He kept finding himself constantly frustrated, disappointed and isolated. Money will only get you so far with friends and Jack may not be able to read people well but eventually, he could see children only wanting to hang around him for his money. They didn't like him. Coming from that much money, I think it's possibly that his parents didn't put the same attention to him as Julian's did or that any attention was in the form of trophy status shit. I'm sure he was an incredibly lonely and isolated child.

Then add in that unlike Julian he has greater enhanced physical abilities. Julian may have an unfair athletic advantage but Julian isn't capable of the same damage as Jack. We can see where Jack threatens to snap Sarina's neck that he's stronger than the average human is. Despite what movies show, snapping a neck is incredibly difficult. One could argue he's bluffing but everyone in the room behaved as if he could absolutely do it easily. So now you have a child who not only comes off as arrogant, rude, and cold, you have a child who can easily hurt others without meaning to. I'm sure that he has. 

Children with those physical gifts respond to hurting others with differing degrees of empathy some [like I imagine Julian would] feel that very strongly and their reaction is to try and never hurt anyone even to their own detriment. They become afraid of their own strength and sometimes even end up bullied. Others don't understand they're stronger. Their guilt becomes frustration and resentment that someone should be hurt so easily. They don't have the tools to understand they need to exercise more care and they lash out even more. This only gets worse when he gets older and you add in puberty to all these feelings of isolation. 

He starts wanting to have friendships, romantic relationships but everyone either hates him, is afraid of him or both. His parents are largely absent and he's smart enough to get good marks even if he is a discipline problem. They throw more money at his school and at counselors. No one knows he's enhanced and he's likely spent his whole life having to keep this to himself letting everyone think he's just an asshole freak. His counselors don't understand. He resents them. He feels like no one wants to help him. They keep telling him that if he doesn't "get it together" he's going to be locked away. He's terrified because he doesn't want to be put away. He has no one he can confide in. He hates himself and he hates everyone else because it's better than feeling desperately lonely and hopeless. I'd be amazed if he's never made one suicide attempt in his life.

He keeps trying to fit in but he's even more angry, older, stronger, and he gets into fights where he hurts people. He's resentful that he has to hold back his strength because others are weak, that he has to hold back his intelligence because others are stupid. His parents finally have to confess after one incident too many and it's easier to put him in a place where he can "get help" and they can wash their hands of him.

I can see him being skeptical of Dr. Loews and not believing she sees him as anything other than a freak. She treats him differently than she does Lauren and Patrick and this isolates him more. Lauren is free with her attraction to everyone but him and just how big of a blow is that to someone's sense of self worth whether they're really into someone or not? I don't imagine he's ever been able to be intimate with anyone else ever and may not even have desired to. He isn't like Lauren and Patrick who lack a certain level of self awareness. You can see when he's ranting about being locked away how little they seem to be affected in comparison. He's trapped in a cage and he knows he's going to spend the rest of his life there and he hates it. It's a torment. His constant agitation, nervous tics, expressions are an expression of that anguish, of that energy, that being having no where to go and no outlet. 

I don't honestly know what Dr. Loews was thinking in introducing him to Julian. To me it almost seems cruel- I can see why they have such an antagonistic relationship even if it is misunderstanding from Jack. He hurts her with the broken PADD but she's the one with all the power in that relationship- she controls his life and to him these are all nothing but a series of taunts, of cruelties, of poking at him. I see him caught between not wanting his failure as a person rubbed in his face and wanting to taste just a hint of freedom. 

Jack looks at Julian and doesn't see a "goal" but rather fifteen years of his life that he's spent trapped that he's never going to get back. He sees a man with friends, who people like, who's attractive. No wonder from the outset everything Julian does and says seems combative, arrogant, and condescending. Jack can't read people well but even he can see the way Julian looks at him. Julian makes him feel like less which is why we constantly see him jumping on furniture to put himself in a position of dominance. He wants to be liked, he wants to be free. He wants everything Julian has and at the very pit of him he's incredibly kind. We can see that in the way he wanted to help Sarina even though he gets no benefit from it and loses one of his "pack".

As for the brief mention of Jack/Julian, I think that Julian would be incredibly good for him if they met under different circumstances. Or even if there was some big moment of truth, some baring of souls between them. We have no idea of Jack's sexuality as far as whether or not he's bi or straight. Jack himself may very well not know. I had a lightbulb moment when talking it over and he seemed to me to be likely completely asexual or demisexual. Julian when he has reason to be is endlessly patient. Jack wants to experience things, experience the world, and he and Julian can do that together. I imagine a world where they both find themselves in the Institute sharing grand dreams of exploring space and Julian finding Jack's wild ideas and mania contagious. I like the ideas of universes where they grow up together and fall in love. I can see Julian helping Jack learn to cope, learn to live in the world and to be his biggest cheerleader and pillar of support which Jack needs and I can see Jack being fiercely loyal to him like no other once that trust and relationship is established.

Edited to add May 2018 Jack/Parmak: Yeah this is a total oddball one and actually goes off my own non canon Parmak. I think there are some intersections. To start I think Cardassia as a whole would be a place where he'd adapt well. I think he'd find it fascinating to be with a people who are combative and argumentative with everyone as a culture. He can see they treat him just the same as any other and no one would give a damn about his being an augment. I think he'd find himself crazy mentally stimulated and acclimate well. He's had a regimented life as it is so I can see him taking to the routine and customs with interest. 

For me Parmak is also a character with an insane capacity for forgiveness and compassion. He's patient, but also won't just roll over and enjoys a good debate and I imagine him to be pretty brilliant in his own right. He's not unbending, and this is the guy screwing his former torturer. I think Parmak's pretty impossible to intimidate at this point in his life with all he's been through. I could see him finding Jack a fascinating puzzle especially seeing how very different he is from any human he's ever encountered before. Reaching a bit but Parmak strikes me at this point in his life as not shying away from danger or confrontation and I would love to see how this plays out. There are totally alternate reality possibilities and believe me I'll be messing with some of these too!

So in closing, yeah, I love Jack and will definitely be writing more adventures and fun romantic angsty things for him so hopefully this may get some others on board or thinking as well :) Believe me I have a lot of plans for this man! Also as an aside, one of the ST authors didn't feel the "scary" side of Jack came across well but I think Tim Ransom's incredibly portrayal gave Jack more depth than the "menacing" figure they were clearly trying to create.

[infinitheismworld]

The Importance of Being a Living Role Model

We need more living role models to show the next generation that there are people whose actions match their ideals. All the suffering in the world could be eliminated if we had role models in our life that we could learn from. Our lives can either be a warning or an example.

It seems…

“Wanted role models,” read the signboard.  The first applicant was a lion and its resume had a caption, “They say, ‘As majestic as a lion’.  I can be seen as a role model for the way I carry myself.”  The second applicant was a peacock and its resume had a title, “They say, ‘As beautiful as a peacock’.  I can be seen as a role model for my natural beauty.”

As free as an eagle; as fast as a cheetah; as faithful as a dog; as colourful as a butterfly; as hard working as a bull; the memory of an elephant; the concentration of a snake…  With such remarkable traits they have become synonymous with, there stood so many applicants, each one of them gazing at the sign board, “Wanted role models.”

The jackal, which was hiding its resume from everyone else, for it had printed on it, “As cunning as a jackal,” looked around and asked, “Where are the humans?”  The ant whose resume read, “The teamwork of ants; after all, nobody makes it alone,” replied, “Oh, they are busy modelling.  They are happy just being models.  So the poets have turned to us for role models.”

Everyone is concerned about the economic slowdown, food shortage, lack of civic amenities like toilets, the water table going down, the pollution hazards, the depleting ozone layer, global warming, deforestation… but do we realise that all the suffering in the world stems from scarcity and poverty of role models?

How long are we going to show our children the history books?

When can we begin to show them living role models?

When are we going to have a world where children do not have to look beyond their parents for role models?

How long are we going to pacify ourselves by saying, “But for his smoking and drinking habits he is a great man?”

How long are we going to appease ourselves by saying, “Let us not look at the character of our teacher; that’s a matter of his personal life; let us just take his teachings and go?”  Why should there be just one Gandhi to tell us, “My life is my message?”  Why not enough of us ‘Walk the Talk’?  How about a world, where in a Guru the world sees that the message is the messenger himself!

How about a world where my CEO is all that I need as a philosopher and guide?  How long can we compromise by saying, “But for his weakness for women, he is a wonderful person to work with?”

In the absence of real life character role models, children helplessly take a cricketer as their icon, only to know later that he traded the dignity of his country through match fixing.  In the absence of living moral role models, children helplessly follow a showman as their icon, only to later find out that he was a drug addict indulging in sexual abuse of children.

Children follow the heroes and heroines of the entertainment world only to eventually discover that one is a terrorist, one changes women faster than he changes his clothes, the other needs cigarettes for his macho screen image and for another alcohol is synonymous to happiness.

What the world needs today is not those models whom we can only ADMIRE from a distance, but role models whom we can CHERISH from a closer proximity.

Rather than arguing about what is right and what is wrong, ask yourself these questions:

Am I willing to do what I like to do in the presence of my parents?

Will I be happy seeing my children do what I keep doing?

Can I do what I like to do inside my place of worship?

Let the answers that unfold from your true self guide your sense of right and wrong.

I am sure you have heard the story of a frail old man who went to live with his son, daughter-in-law and four-year grandson.  The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was poor and his steps faltered.  The family ate together at the table but the shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult for the aged man.

Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.  When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.  The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.  “We must do something about my father,” said the son.  “I’ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating and food on the floor,” added the daughter-in-law.

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner; and since he had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.  There the grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed the dinner together.  Still, the only words the couple had for the elderly man were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled some food.

When the grandson glanced at the grandfather’s direction, he sometimes saw tears in his grandfather’s eyes as he sat alone.  The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with some pieces of wood on the floor.  He asked the child sweetly, “What are you making?”  Just as sweetly, the boy replied, “Oh, I am making a little wooden bowl for you and Mama to eat your food when I grow older.”  The four-year-old smiled and got back to work.

The words so struck the parents that they were speechless.  Tears began to stream down their cheeks.  Though no word was spoken, both knew what had to be done.

That evening, the husband took his father’s hand and gently led him back to the family table.  For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family.  For inexplicable reasons, neither the husband nor the wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, or milk got spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

Why do we conduct ourselves as though our children are not watching us?  Children are remarkably perceptive.  Children learn more from what they SEE than what they HEAR.  The nerves that go from the eyes are far greater in number than the nerves that go from the ears.  Hence the visual impact is always greater than the auditory impact.  Children will follow your examples and not your advice.

The father reads out the scripture to the child to explain the virtue of honesty.  Later while eating his breakfast, he instructs his child to tell the person on the phone that he is not home.  The child heard the scripture but saw the liar in action.

Remember, “Like father, like child.”  Unknowingly, the father has just now issued a license to the child to lie.  When you ask people to lie FOR you, you have taught them to lie TO you.  Through every disrespectful fight that happens between the husband and wife, they have issued a license to their children to disrespect them; the child does not see the husband and wife fighting, but sees that his father and mother need not be respected.

With habits like chewing, drinking, smoking, illegitimate sexual behaviour, and by indulging in corruption and dishonesty, and by making compromises on integrity, parents lose their right to look into the eyes of their children.

The role models in the books and scriptures rarely make a greater impact on the child than the one the child sees in action within every home.  Moral science is never learnt from books but by watching those who live around us.  What we leave FOR our children (materialistic abundance) is not as important as what we leave IN our children (morals and ethics).

What is the point in asking the Lord to move mountains for our children, when we as parents have failed to teach them to climb?

There is not much a ‘Father of the Nation’ can do if the ‘Father at home’ is not okay.

What to say when the whole world, including the Prime Ministers, the Presidents and the Brand icons of the world, are consumed in advocating safe sex towards prevention of AIDS, but no one wants to speak about monogamy and loyalty to one’s spouse?

What to do when the government is willing to license anything that will fill the treasury?  We need not leave our children at the mercy of the world, if we can be the building blocks of character and the moral role models they can look up to from within the family.

We have enough material on business success stories.  What we need are more role models to show the younger generation that it is possible to be honest, maintain integrity, live a value based life and still carry the torch in the corporate world.

We have enough material on women liberation and equality of rights.  What we need are more women role models to show the next generation that they need not be enslaved, and confined to the four walls.  We have enough material on parenting.

What we need are more parental role models to show the next generation that there are still people who can walk their talk, and you are one of them.

The essence…

Let our freedom in life not be sans our responsibility to the next generation.  That will be licentiousness.

In our own little ways, can we always be that someone that the world around us can SALUTE?

In our own private ways, can we be a positive turning point in the lives of those who come after us?

Your life, my life, and the lives of each one of us will serve either as a WARNING or as an EXAMPLE.

A warning of the consequences of neglect, self-pity, lack of direction, apathy, character compromises, messed up priorities and spiritual poverty… or an example of talent put to use, of discipline self-imposed, of objectives clearly perceived and intensely pursued, empathy, value based living and of spiritual expressions.

For many people, especially our children, we are the only Quran they will read in a lifetime; the only Vedas that they will see; the only Bible that they will experience; the only Dhammapada they will imbibe and the only Dharma that they will follow.

I know it is an awesome responsibility, but how else can you explain why you came into this planet before them?

The impact of the messenger is always greater than the mere message.

Of course, nothing is as powerful as the message being the messenger, and the messenger being the message.

[filmista]

Stranger Things (Season 1)

“If anyone asks where I am, I’ve left the country.”

As a  lot of you know I usually review films and not tv series. ‘Big Little Lies’ has been the big exception, although that’s a mini-series and thus an easier to cover than a series with more than one season.

But I wanted to make another exception and cover another series that I’ve discovered lately, really gotten into and thoroughly enjoyed: it’s the hype of 2016 ‘Stranger Things’.

Now you can’t be a regular Netflix or Tumblr user and not have heard of ‘Stranger Things’. The hype definitely got to the cave I live in, I’ve had people ask me if I’d seen it and recommend it to me. As always I eventually caved. Because you do start to wonder if it’s acceptable to venture out in public and not have seen it... 

But as is usually the case, I’m always late to a hype and don’t get into it until much later. I thought it wouldn’t be for me because I thought it would mostly be an homage to 80’s cliches that I’m not too big a fan of.

Also, I have to admit that I’ve never been that big of a fan of the government is doing, secret, fucked up shit in some top secret lab… it has a tendency to go really big and stray too much from subtlety for my liking.

 Although one day I was home sick from school and had an entire day of couch sitting ahead of me, and the film I picked was ‘Super 8’ which judging from its storyline, should by no means have been something I’d enjoy. But I ended up quite liking that film, because of it’ focus on friendship. And a large chunk of the morning past with it.

Much the same happened with ‘Stranger Things’, I had heard of it but I never thought it’d be something for me, yes admittedly basically because of preconceived notions about it.

Eventually, curiosity did get the better of me and I decided to read up on it a little bit, and all the mostly positive reviews convinced me that there must be something to it.

“Joyce, this is Hawkins, okay? You wanna know the worst thing that’s ever happened here in the four years I’ve been working here? Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s head because it thought that her hair was a nest.”

So skip forward and there I was on the sofa watching ‘Stranger Things’, that same afternoon I watched the first two episodes, in less than a week I was done with it. And even though I didn’t love the first two episodes, I liked the atmosphere enough and there was enough tension at the end of the episodes to keep me watching.

I had conflicted feelings about the show at first, on the one hand, I actually thoroughly enjoyed the episodes and I wanted to watch the next one, but I also was always left a bit underwhelmed. It didn’t feel like nothing I hadn’t watched before to me.

‘Stranger Things’ is definitely a beautiful show, with all kinds of aesthetic wonderfulness, but its quality goes deeper than just the surface. While it does borrow heavily from 80’s films, there’s also a lot of nods to one of my favorite horror writers: Mr. Stephen King, I can’t be the only one that got ‘Carrie’ ( I love Carrie) vibes from Eleven.

It’s more than just about paying homage, to some of the sci-fi and horror from the 80’s, though it starts as a murder mystery and eventually goes full-fledged sci-fi,  it does without getting too overbearing kudos to that!

The creators of the show The Duffer Brothers clearly know the era they were working with and know their stuff, but the most important thing is that their love for the era and it's films, even it’s music shines through.

We all love some music, books, and films from the 80’s, though it is safe to say that not that many of us would like to live in it now being conscious of how hideous the fashion was, it really was…

So the Duffer Brothers took the 80’s and weren’t afraid to create something build upon existing elements of that time. But as I said ‘Stranger Things’ is much, much more than just a pretty show.

It’s well written, well acted, and man does it have fantastic music! (the soundtrack is my new to go to put on in the background while I’m working for class).

It’s acting is above the level of a lot of tv series, all of the actors, the child actors too give very strong and nuanced performances, they build their characters into so much more than just their 80’s archetypes.

Also how cool is it that 80’s and 90’s icon Winona Ryder is in this?! It builds around elements from known 80’s movies and it pays the era a loving, nostalgic glance.

“Yeah, that’s right! You better run! She’s our friend and she’s crazy!”

Stranger Things is set in the 80's in a small town in Indiana, Hawkins. A typical  “we all know each other town”, where really nothing ever happens. Until a boy, Will disappears without a trace one day. 

His three best friends are determined to find him. However, during their search, they do not find Will, but a mysterious girl. Without name but with supernatural powers. Meanwhile, Will’s mother is also convinced that Will still lives, despite the fact that every indication seems to prove the opposite- 

And believe me, there are still a lot more strange things happening in Hawkins. Like in many films and shows from the time, adults and children, coexist but it is seemingly in opposing planes, a lot of the parents are unaware of their children’s internal world.

This is especially so with some of the teens and their parents, the show illustrates that time when teens and adults begin to grow a little apart, beautifully. 

But in this show, a supernatural mix is also thrown into the equation, super secret shit of the government went wrong (when does it not?) and now there’s a dark, alternate version of the town within the town, inhabited by a monster (The Demogorgon)  that smells blood from miles away and feeds onto the inhabitants.

The people in the town that went missing get into this alternate version of the town called the upside down. Now the group of children figures this out sooner thanks to their mysterious new friend Eleven, Eleven true to the cliche was experimented on because of her supernatural powers, by the government in their evil, top-secret lab.

The younger people of the town are onto the truth much faster than some of the oblivious adults, and some adults also are sooner than others, some just stay oblivious to what goes on around them, like boring “enjoying your chicken Ted” the only one in the show, to never shed the skin of his stereotype and mutated into a more interesting one. 

Ryder’s character is one of the first adults that experiences that something supernatural is going on in the town, she doesn’t give up on her son, and comes to believe that he makes contact with her through the Christmas lights, and is thus still there.

Though of course in accordance to the cliche, she questions her own sanity first, but still, holds on to that beacon of hope no matter how ridiculous. And while some say Winona Ryder pulled some serious overacting here, that may be so but how would someone react if they lost their child?

She has others around her question her sanity, but the character that eventually comes to believe her and one of my favorite characters in the show overall: Chief Hopper.

It’s implied that Chief Hopper and Joyce somewhat have feelings for one another. And hopper himself lost his daughter, so he feels a lot of empathy and sympathy for Joyce, and is in the end always there to support her.

Now what I loved about chief Hopper, is that he’s not an overly macho policeman, he’s a very kind and sympathetic man, with a somewhat nervous disposition because of his past. 

He’s also an alcoholic of who we perfectly understand why he became one, but underneath all of that, there is still the same kind, loving man. And as a coffee lover, I love anyone that would say “Mornings are for Coffee and contemplation.”

There’s the group of kids, all perfectly played by the child actors.They illustrate perfectly that childhood friendships are some of the strongest we have in our life, but they also face disagreements. Though the star of all the kids is arguably, Millie Bobby Brown as Eleven.

She delivers an insanely nuanced and emotional performance for her age, she never falters in the role and stays strong throughout,  I can predict now (and I’m probably not the only one) that’s she’s going to be big one day.

Then there’s the teens and the adults. The show is in this regard mostly focused on two families, The Wheelers and The Byers. All of the adults in the Wheeler household are blissfully ignorant of the events happening in the town, except eventually teenage daughter Nancy (who’s my favorite character but I’ll get to her).

And the Byers household. Now Joyce’s son Jonathan, who’s the brooding, quiet kid, that’s discovered photography (another cliche) at first doesn’t believe his mother and thinks that she has lost her mind.

“Maybe I am a mess. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m out of my mind! But, God help me, I will keep these lights up until the day I die if I think there’s a chance that Will’s still out there!”

Until he too is confronted with the events. And later teams up with his crush Nancy to fight the Demogorgon. Now Nancy (played with brilliant subtlety by Natalia Dyer) who’s hideous layering style, I find secretly wonderful.

Nancy at the beginning of the show doesn’t really start out as a character that we love. She comes across, as the very shallow, somewhat bitchy older sister, that’s just found popularity, she’s dating in true 80’s fashion, an enormous douchebag.

She drags her best friend, the shyer Barbara to a party she really didn’t want to go to, chugs beer, ignores all of her friend's advice, and further ignores her to give into her hormones, and lose her virginity to the douchebag her friend warned her about.

But the really interesting thing about Nancy is that she grows, and eventually evolves from that storyline. Like in classic horror movie she would have died after this, only this show doesn’t do that her and gives her another chance- 

She realizes she made a mistake with her friend and sets out to repair the damage she made. In the meantime, she also befriends the kid, who’s not popular.

And she just becomes one of the biggest badasses in the show, being the first to willingly go into the upside down, and the first to devise a plan to kill the monster. Guys I just love Nancy. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other. They must’ve married for some reason. My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac… and started their nuclear family. Screw that.“

Which leads to the very cool moment of her training with a baseball bat a scene I love, she and Jonathan stocking up on stuff to face the monster with, and eventually fighting it. 

And she also moves away from her grumpy older sister image and restores her relationship with her younger brother. 

Perhaps the only decision she makes that some people would be bothered by, is her choosing Steve over Jonathan (at least in this season) but she still didn’t change her personality that much, she stayed true to who she is.

And Steve arguably was redeemed a bit in the end, as he tries to make up for his mistakes, and ditches his utterly awful friends.

Overall Stranger Things is a show with a great binge-ability factor, a clear love of and an ode to the 80’s, but that goes deeper than just becoming a copy of classic 80′s sci-fi and horror. 

But anyway what makes it great, is that as deep as it can be after you’ve had a deeper look at it (it took me a while to really warm up to it) you can also just enjoy it as you spent an entire afternoon watching. 

‘Stranger Things’ is probably one of the best-crafted shows on Netflix though, truly one of those shows, that transcends the quality, of what’s usually expected of it and becomes a true phenomenon. It was the most popular Netflix in 2016 in America, and with this outdid ‘Orange Is The New Black’ now that is a feat. 

It’s in quality just as good as any film. It builds up its atmosphere brilliantly, not only is at pretty and pleasant to look at (there are some great special effects and just beautiful use of colors and lighting) but it’s also all believable and makes sense.

Its atmosphere is dark throughout, it’s almost like an inverted fairy tale, it’s not every day that Christmas lights become something so dark and sad. But it also knows when to be lighter and let the audience breathe, so we get some very intense, sometimes slightly frightening scenes (this depends on how easily you scare I think though). Alternated with moments that are funny, or heartwarming.

It’s got a love of all things nerdy as well, the most important characters in it are huge nerds, and where these people would usually be the victims, here they’re the heroes and they get to stand up to their bullies. 

It has acting, that’s at the level of some films, no overdramatic, soap-like acting, everyone delivers strong and confident performances. And then there’s as I said that wonderful soundtrack, a true 80’s synth soundtrack.

In conclusion, I’d say ‘Stranger things’ is indeed worth the watch, though I like some people had some difficulty with the first two episodes. But once past those two, it consolidated itself into something with a high nostalgia factor, while still managing to become unique.

I for one, like I think many other people am all set to enjoy season 2 when it arrives on October 27th. Whereas for all the influences; there’s a great deal of them, Spielberg’s films being one of them, but all of those you can find plenty on the internet. 

[heroes-hq-blog1]

BRIAR IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› GABRIEL HAN › 19 YEARS OLD › PHYTOKINESIS › 3 YEARS IN THE ACADEMY

POWER

Phytokinesis allows its wielder to influence and manipulate plant-life.

STRENGTHS

– Plant-matter Manipulation

– Growth Speed Enhancement.

– Botanical Communication & Plant Empathy.

– Gabriel is able to transfer energy into and out of plants, granting him abilities that manifest similar to healing. He has no official name for this skill.

WEAKNESSES

– Repeated use of any phytokinetic skill makes its users reliant on the presence of plants in their environment in order to regenerate properly. Given how much use Gabriel has already made of his gift it is to be assumed that he would be unable to live surrounded primarily by concrete. – Gabriel can’t conjure matter out of thin air so in order for his abilities to function he needs live plant–matter in a radius of ten metres. – Plants can’t be taken out of their physical natural form. A tree can’t be manipulated into a thin, ivy-like vine, bamboo can’t be shaped into oak-like consistency. Pushing it too far will cause the plant physical damage and drain the user’s energy in order to sustain its form. – Like any manipulation-based power, Phytokinesis also brings the danger of destructive power if unchecked. If a user loses control over their emotions and signals distress or pain the plants will act accordingly and protect them based on what they themselves would do in nature. Phytokinesis also does not grant immunity to plant-based venoms, meaning that use of venomous plants in combat always puts the user at risk. – If a plant’s growth cycle is sped up it will adapt to it and will go on to age accordingly. A flower with double the growth speed compared to its natural state will die twice as fast. This process is irreversible and unavoidable. – While a user can facilitate the growth of plants they can’t take them out of their native environments without having to invest more energy into keeping them alive. – If done without proper control a plant growing at enhanced speed will grow uncontrollably and is prone to causing damage. It is advisable to induce any enhanced growth outdoors and from a safe distance as to reduce risks of injury. – Plants can’t communicate verbally. They can send signals and transmit very basic emotions but how these inputs are interpreted depend on the recipient. Phytokinesis comes with no guarantee to be able to do just that, the skill of reading signals correctly has to be learnt and even then comes with a margin for errors. – Unskilled and novice users often find themselves struggling with filtering input received from plants. Part of learning to control this ability involve being able to be able to shield themselves from input and gradually open themselves up again until they can do so at will. It takes mental fortitude and focus, making it a tiring constant process. Consequences can be as harmless as a minor headache or struggle to concentrate on everyday tasks and bad memory. Gabriel specifically tends to lose his grip on his mental shield when tired and has to keep a vigilant eye on all of his activities and duties in order not to lose track. – Healing done through Phytokinesis can only be proportional to the plant’s own lifespan and size. Once a plant’s energy is completely drained it will die. This consequence is unavoidable and irreversible. – Energy transfer always requires direct skin contact with the plant, both on the user’s and the patient’s end. Special care must be taken to ensure that the plant doesn’t mistake the patient for its next host and roots itself in them or for the body to mistake plant matter for its own tissue and heal over it. Thus, energy transfer requires great focus and mental calm. –  Regenerating a plant always comes at the expense of the user’s own life force and will require different amounts of energy depending on the plant’s age and size as well as its state and how long it has been in said condition. Ignoring his limits has severe consequences on his own physical health. Gabriel is currently able to completely revitalize small plants within 24 hours of their withering and can partially revitalize bigger ones within six hours.

ORIGINS

trigger warnings for: death 01. The Han family has always been odd. One of the few Asian families living on the island of Lindau, Southern Germany, and one of the few families with a majority of superhumanly gifted members standing out was never particularly hard. As a healer and a geokinete’s firstborn children and older siblings to a little girl gifted with superhuman hearing, the twins Elias and Gabriel always seemed like they would be the only “normal” members of the family. Why exactly their parents chose to move so far from their homeland was something that the children never really questioned and for Gabriel’s first seven years. Lindau was safe and Germany a well-regulated country, making it a good place to raise a child. “Your father and I were both trained in Düsseldorf, we didn’t want to leave the country. And we like it here,” Gabriel’s mother would always remind them. “It’s a beautiful town, don’t you think?” 02. The move back to Seoul was sudden. Within a month after receiving word of Gabriel’s paternal grandfather being terminally ill the family was all packed up and moving across the globe. Adapting to their new home was hard for all three Han children, with Sarah, the youngest, not dealing well with the noise of the metropolis, Elias struggling emotionally and Gabriel starting to fall ill in regular intervals. Neither one of them felt particularly welcome or at ease in South Korea and this would be a pattern that would go on to accompany all of them through the following years. 03. Elias Han died in late July, shortly after his fourteenth birthday. It was an accident, a car hitting the bus he had been travelling in. “He died before the ambulance arrived,” his family was told. Gabriel doesn’t remember what followed after that, only waking up in the living room the morning after receiving the news to their potted plants having grown rapidly overnight, cocooning him as if he were the Sleeping Beauty. 04. “Your brother must’ve been blocking out your powers.” That was the reasoning the specialist Gabriel’s parents took him to see gave him. “You were never ungifted. Your brother just cancelled out your abilities. Have you never noticed your powers waning during your pregnancy, ma’am?” 05. After Elias was gone it all became so much in so little time. Years of his gift having gone unnoticed and unused meant that now, at fourteen, Gabriel had no idea how to handle his abilities. Any experimenting was always accompanied by the fear of being unable to control how much force he put into anything. Weeds started to sprout uncontrollably wherever he set foot outside, one time the leaves in the trees in the park across from home changed colour in mid-June following a panic attack of his. Setting foot into the woods came close to opening his mind to a million voices, each one of them wanting to share something else with him. He had gone from unremarkable to extraordinary out of nowhere and now he was left reeling. 06. Gabriel’s parents had been aware of Avenger Academy for a long time already when he enrolled, mostly planning to send Sarah once she reached the required minimum age. It only made sense for him to attend too, direly in need of guidance and more specialized help that his parents were unable to provide. The move to Ankae alone did wonders for Gabriel’s formerly fragile health and he quickly found a new home within the academy’s walls. But with his more sociable twin brother gone and him never having had proper closure with the chaos that followed in the wake of his untimely passing, Gabriel grew reclusive and insecure. 07. To an outsider, Gabriel Han is friendly. Good grades, pretty smile, clean student record. A bit mysterious, maybe, and rather shy but polite and approachable. He makes a good welcome committee member and of all the things he is tasked with at Avengers Academy, his duties as such are the ones he seems to be most comfortable with. There is no real mystery to him, just a lot of caution as he attempts to keep a safe distance between himself and the rest of the world. Convinced that he still doesn’t know how to keep the destructive side of his gift under control he has made himself somewhat of a loner by choice. Still, if met with patience and understanding you might find yourself facing a blossoming boy with a smile as bright as the sunlight his plants feed upon. After all, growing flowers, too, takes time.

[cupofteajones]

Credit: Evening Standard

  The longlist for the 2019 Women’s Prize for Fiction was announced today.  This year’s longlist contains books that are from both new and well-established authors that span from a range of genres, including seven debut novels.

The prize is also making history. For the first time in the prize’s 27 year history, the committee has nominated a non-binary trans author. Akwaeke Emezi is nominated for their first novel, Freshwater and is up for the £30,000 prize. Professor Kate Williams, one of the judges made a comment to the The Guardian about this historic moment:

It is a historic moment…We’re very careful not to Google the authors while judging, so we did not know. But the book found great favour among us, it is wonderful. They are an incredibly talented author and we’re keen to celebrate them.”

The shortlist for the prize will be announced on April 29 and the winner on June 5. Meet the sixteen books that made the cut:

Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi

An extraordinary debut novel, Freshwater explores the surreal experience of having a fractured self. It centers around a young Nigerian woman, Ada, who develops separate selves within her as a result of being born “with one foot on the other side.” Unsettling, heartwrenching, dark, and powerful, Freshwater is a sharp evocation of a rare way of experiencing the world, one that illuminates how we all construct our identities.

Ada begins her life in the south of Nigeria as a troubled baby and a source of deep concern to her family. Her parents, Saul and Saachi, successfully prayed her into existence, but as she grows into a volatile and splintered child, it becomes clear that something went terribly awry. When Ada comes of age and moves to America for college, the group of selves within her grows in power and agency. A traumatic assault leads to a crystallization of her alternate selves: Asụghara and Saint Vincent. As Ada fades into the background of her own mind and these selves–now protective, now hedonistic–move into control, Ada’s life spirals in a dark and dangerous direction.

Milkman by Anna Burns

I read this two months ago and I highly enjoyed it. If you would like to read my review of it, you can find it here.

In this unnamed city, to be interesting is dangerous. Middle sister, our protagonist, is busy attempting to keep her mother from discovering her maybe-boyfriend and to keep everyone in the dark about her encounter with Milkman. But when first brother-in-law sniffs out her struggle, and rumours start to swell, middle sister becomes ‘interesting’. The last thing she ever wanted to be. To be interesting is to be noticed and to be noticed is dangerous.

My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

When Korede’s dinner is interrupted one night by a distress call from her sister, Ayoola, she knows what’s expected of her: bleach, rubber gloves, nerves of steel and a strong stomach. This’ll be the third boyfriend Ayoola’s dispatched in “self-defence” and the third mess that her lethal little sibling has left Korede to clear away. She should probably go to the police for the good of the menfolk of Nigeria, but she loves her sister and, as they say, family always comes first. Until, that is, Ayoola starts dating a doctor at the hospital where Korede works as a nurse. Korede’s long been in love with him, and isn’t prepared to see him wind up with a knife in his back: but to save one would mean sacrificing the other…

Normal People by Sally Rooney

Also Longlisted for the 2018 Man Booker Prize and nominee of the 2018 Costa Book Award

Connell and Marianne both grow up in the same town in rural Ireland. The similarities end there; they are from very different worlds. But they both get places to study at university in Dublin, and a connection that has grown between them despite the social tangle of school lasts long into the following years.

Sally Rooney’s second novel is a deeply political novel, just as it’s also a novel about love. It’s about how difficult it is to speak to what you feel and how difficult it is to change. It’s wry and seductive; perceptive and bold. It will make you cry and you will know yourself through it.

Swan Song by Kelleigh Greenberg-Jephcott

They told him everything.

He told everyone else.

Over countless martini-soaked Manhattan lunches, they shared their deepest secrets and greatest fears. On exclusive yachts sailing the Mediterranean, on private jets streaming towards Jamaica, on Yucatán beaches in secluded bays, they gossiped about sex, power, money, love and fame. They never imagined he would betray them so absolutely.

In the autumn of 1975, after two decades of intimate friendships, Truman Capote detonated a literary grenade, forever rupturing the elite circle he’d worked so hard to infiltrate. Why did he do it, knowing what he stood to lose? Was it to punish them? To make them pay for their manners, money and celebrated names? Or did he simply refuse to believe that they could ever stop loving him? Whatever the motive, one thing remains indisputable: nine years after achieving wild success with In Cold Blood, Capote committed an act of professional and social suicide with his most lethal of weapons . . . Words.

  Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss

In the north of England, far from the intrusions of cities but not far from civilization, Silvie and her family are living as if they are ancient Britons, surviving by the tools and knowledge of the Iron Age.

For two weeks, the length of her father’s vacation, they join an anthropology course set to reenact life in simpler times. They are surrounded by forests of birch and rowan; they make stew from foraged roots and hunted rabbit. The students are fulfilling their coursework; Silvie’s father is fulfilling his lifelong obsession. He has raised her on stories of early man, taken her to witness rare artifacts, recounted time and again their rituals and beliefs—particularly their sacrifices to the bog. Mixing with the students, Silvie begins to see, hear, and imagine another kind of life, one that might include going to university, traveling beyond England, choosing her own clothes and food, speaking her mind.

The ancient Britons built ghost walls to ward off enemy invaders, rude barricades of stakes topped with ancestral skulls. When the group builds one of their own, they find a spiritual connection to the past. What comes next but human sacrifice?

Circe by Madeline Miller

In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe has neither the look nor the voice of divinity, and is scorned and rejected by her kin. Increasingly isolated, she turns to mortals for companionship, leading her to discover a power forbidden to the gods: witchcraft.

When love drives Circe to cast a dark spell, wrathful Zeus banishes her to the remote island of Aiaia. There she learns to harness her occult craft, drawing strength from nature. But she will not always be alone; many are destined to pass through Circe’s place of exile, entwining their fates with hers. The messenger god, Hermes. The craftsman, Daedalus. A ship bearing a golden fleece. And wily Odysseus, on his epic voyage home.

There is danger for a solitary woman in this world, and Circe’s independence draws the wrath of men and gods alike. To protect what she holds dear, Circe must decide whether she belongs with the deities she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

Bottled Goods by Sophie van Llewyn

When Alina’s brother-in-law defects to the West, she and her husband become persons of interest to the secret services, causing both of their careers to come grinding to a halt. 

As the strain takes its toll on their marriage, Alina turns to her aunt for help – the wife of a communist leader and a secret practitioner of the old folk ways.

Set in 1970s communist Romania, this novella-in-flash draws upon magic realism to weave a tale of everyday troubles, that can’t be put down.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist on the brink of an exciting career. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart by circumstances neither could have imagined. In this deft exploration of love, loyalty, race, justice, and both Black masculinity and Black womanhood in 21st century America, Jones achieves that most-elusive of all literary goals: the Great American Novel. 

Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli

Told through the voices of the mother and her son, as well as through a stunning tapestry of collected texts and images–including prior stories of migration and displacement–Lost Children Archive is a story of how we document our experiences, and how we remember the things that matter to us the most. Blending the personal and the political with astonishing empathy, it is a powerful, wholly original work of fiction: exquisite, provocative, and deeply moving. 

Number One Chinese Restaurant by  Lillian Li

The Beijing Duck House in Rockville, Maryland, is not only a beloved go-to setting for hunger pangs and celebrations; it is its own world, inhabited by waiters and kitchen staff who have been fighting, loving, and aging within its walls for decades. When disaster strikes, this working family’s controlled chaos is set loose, forcing each character to confront the conflicts that fast-paced restaurant life has kept at bay. 

Owner Jimmy Han hopes to leave his late father’s homespun establishment for a fancier one. Jimmy’s older brother, Johnny, and Johnny’s daughter, Annie, ache to return to a time before a father’s absence and a teenager’s silence pushed them apart. Nan and Ah-Jack, longtime Duck House employees, are tempted to turn their thirty-year friendship into something else, even as Nan’s son, Pat, struggles to stay out of trouble. And when Pat and Annie, caught in a mix of youthful lust and boredom, find themselves in a dangerous game that implicates them in the Duck House tragedy, their families must decide how much they are willing to sacrifice to help their children. 

Ordinary People by Diana Evans

‘You can take a leap, do something off the wall, something reckless. It’s your last chance, and most people miss it.’ South London, 2008. Two couples find themselves at a moment of reckoning, on the brink of acceptance or revolution. Melissa has a new baby and doesn’t want to let it change her but, in the crooked walls of a narrow Victorian terrace, she begins to disappear. Michael, growing daily more accustomed to his commute, still loves Melissa but can’t quite get close enough to her to stay faithful. Meanwhile out in the suburbs, Stephanie is happy with Damian and their three children, but the death of Damian’s father has thrown him into crisis – or is it something, or someone, else? Are they all just in the wrong place? Are any of them prepared to take the leap?

Set against the backdrop of Barack Obama’s historic election victory, Ordinary People is an intimate, immersive study of identity and parenthood, sex and grief, friendship and aging, and the fragile architecture of love. With its distinctive prose and irresistible soundtrack, it is the story of our lives, and those moments that threaten to unravel us.

Praise Song for the Butterflies by Bernice L. McFadden

Abeo Kata lives a comfortable, happy life in West Africa as the privileged nine-year-old daughter of a government employee and stay-at-home mother. But when the Katas’ idyllic lifestyle takes a turn for the worse, Abeo’s father, following his mother’s advice, places her in a religious shrine, hoping that the sacrifice of his daughter will serve as religious atonement for the crimes of his ancestors. Unspeakable acts befall Abeo for the fifteen years she is enslaved within the shrine. When she is finally rescued, broken and battered, she must struggle to overcome her past, endure the revelation of family secrets, and learn to trust and love again.

In the tradition of Chris Cleave’s Little Bee, Praise Song for the Butterflies is a contemporary story that offers an educational, eye-opening account of the practice of ritual servitude in West Africa. Spanning decades and two continents, Praise Song for the Butterflies will break and heal your heart.

Remembered by Yvonne Battle-Felton

It is 1910 and Philadelphia is burning. For Spring, there is nothing worse than sitting up half the night with her dead sister and her dying son, reliving a past she would rather not remember in order to prepare for a future she cannot face. Edward, Spring’s son, lies in a hospital bed. He has been charged with committing a crime on the streets of Philadelphia. But is he guilty? The evidence — a black man driving a streetcar into a store window – could lead to his death. Surrounded by ghosts and the wounded, Spring, an emancipated slave, is forced to rewrite her story in order to face the prospect of a future without her child. With the help of her dead sister, newspaper clippings and reconstructed memories, she shatters the silences that have governed her life in order to lead Edward home. 

The Pisces by Melissa Broder

Lucy has been writing her dissertation about Sappho for thirteen years when she and Jamie break up. After she hits rock bottom in Phoenix, her Los Angeles-based sister insists Lucy housesit for the summer—her only tasks caring for a beloved diabetic dog and trying to learn to care for herself. Annika’s home is a gorgeous glass cube atop Venice Beach, but Lucy can find no peace from her misery and anxiety—not in her love addiction group therapy meetings, not in frequent Tinder meetups, not in Dominic the foxhound’s easy affection, not in ruminating on the ancient Greeks. Yet everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer one night while sitting alone on the beach rocks.

Whip-smart, neurotically funny, sexy, and above all, fearless, The Pisces is built on a premise both sirenic and incredibly real—what happens when you think love will save you but are afraid it might also kill you.

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

The ancient city of Troy has withstood a decade under siege of the powerful Greek army, which continues to wage bloody war over a stolen woman—Helen. In the Greek camp, another woman—Briseis—watches and waits for the war’s outcome. She was queen of one of Troy’s neighboring kingdoms, until Achilles, Greece’s greatest warrior, sacked her city and murdered her husband and brothers. Briseis becomes Achilles’s concubine, a prize of battle, and must adjust quickly in order to survive a radically different life, as one of the many conquered women who serve the Greek army. 

When Agamemnon, the brutal political leader of the Greek forces, demands Briseis for himself, she finds herself caught between the two most powerful of the Greeks. Achilles refuses to fight in protest, and the Greeks begin to lose ground to their Trojan opponents. Keenly observant and coolly unflinching about the daily horrors of war, Briseis finds herself in an unprecedented position, able to observe the two men driving the Greek army in what will become their final confrontation, deciding the fate not only of Briseis’s people but also of the ancient world at large.

Briseis is just one among thousands of women living behind the scenes in this war—the slaves and prostitutes, the nurses, the women who lay out the dead—all of them erased by history. With breathtaking historical detail and luminous prose, Pat Barker brings the teeming world of the Greek camp to vivid life. She offers nuanced, complex portraits of characters and stories familiar from mythology, which, seen from Briseis’s perspective, are rife with newfound revelations. Barker’s latest builds on her decades-long study of war and its impact on individual lives—and it is nothing short of magnificent.

  Longlist for 2019 Women’s Prize for Fiction Announced The longlist for the 2019 Women's Prize for Fiction was announced today.  This year's longlist contains books that are from both new and well-established authors that span from a range of genres, including seven debut novels.

[papaculture]

Shirley Hughes

When it comes to bedtime (and morning and afternoon) reading, I’m not sure I’ve enjoyed sharing any author’s work more than Shirley Hughes. Undoubtedly, part of this is due to nostalgia on my part. Her Dogger was probably the book I read more than any other as a child and one of the first books I bought as a parent. The nostalgia here is twofold �� for the remembered pleasure of discovering her books, but more so for the seemingly lost world they depict.

It’s a cliched lament for parents to yearn for the apparent simplicity of their own childhood, but I get a real pang looking at the screen-free days, large backyards, intimate neighbours and kerbside games on show in books such as Moving Molly and Alfie Lends A Hand. If Hughes’s time machine has a particular power, that’s largely due to how vivid and real her work seems. Part of that is down to her illustration style. At a glance it might almost be called unpretty, but there is something unusually tactile to her slightly scruffy figures and the furiously detailed backgrounds. Her characters and settings almost feel more familiar than those from my own memories of childhood.

While I often transposed myself into the characters of books I read as a child, I don’t think I ever felt that books were about me in quite the same way as I felt Dogger was about me. That wasn’t entirely because protagonist Dave is a good spit for my four-year-old self. It was because Hughes conjures an emotional life for her child characters that is almost unparalleled in the world of picture books. The dramas here are perfectly sized. There’s terror as Alfie accidentally locks himself in the house with Mum on the street, or grief as he loses his pet stone, or excitement when the roof leaks while he’s at home with a babysitter. Molly comes to terms with an unfamiliar environment. Carlos wishes for a new bike, but finds joy in not getting what he wants. Dave, of course, is heartbroken when he thinks his lost toy dog is gone forever.

I’ve seen both our kids connect with these simple dramas and the complex emotions they elicit. It’s easy to underestimate the trauma wrought on young minds by apparently trivial upsets, but Hughes has an extraordinary empathy for the children she writes and draws so beautifully. Everything is an adventure, everything matters, and everything can be dealt with – by determination, negotiation, patience or resilience.

Dogger

This was a – if not THE – formative book for me (like myself, it has recently celebrated its 40th birthday). I suspect it still informs my worldview in ways I can’t entirely pinpoint. It’s a story about loss that ends up not quite being a story about loss. When collecting his older sister Bella from school, Dave loses his favourite toy and best friend — the eponymous Dogger. Mum and Dad search everywhere, but Dogger is nowhere to be seen. At the school fair on the weekend, Dogger turns up on one of the toy stalls, but Dave doesn’t have enough money to buy him back. He runs to Bella for help, but not before Dogger has been bought by somebody else.

This book is such a rollercoaster of emotions. Indeed, so profound was its effect on my young heart, that I had misremembered it as a tragedy. While the (spoiler) happy ending brings a sense of great relief, the gutpunch moment is the display of sibling love on the part of Bella, who sacrifices a toy of her own to save Dave’s Dogger. This is all the more moving as it follows a bout of resentment on Dave’s behalf towards Bella, as she is having a much better day than he is. There’s such a closely observed honesty to the line: “At that moment he didn’t like Bella much either because she kept on winning things.”

Hughes was apparently inspired to write Dogger out of fear one of her children would lose their most precious toy (Dogger actually existed, but was never lost). It’s a recurring nightmare for this parent too. Child Two has gone through half a dozen foxes (we prepared for this eventuality), whereas Child One was once briefly separated from her Pooh Bear (who has no understudy). When that happened, I oddly found myself more worried about the Bear than the child. We could have persuaded her to accept a substitute, but I’m not sure I could have lived comfortably with the knowledge that the original bear was out there, wondering why his best friend had never come back for him.

Moving Molly

This was a recent, timely discovery. We had to move twice in the space of 12 months, which was a bit traumatic for all of us, not least Child One. This book was a salve for her feelings of dislocation and uncertainty. Molly’s family leave behind a basement flat in the city for a large house in the middle of nowhere. While she likes having her own room, she misses the busyness of the city and her neighbourhood friends. Left to her own devices (a luxury children had in the 1980s), she discovers an overgrown garden next door (hints of The Secret Garden) and conjures up a raft of solitary adventures. It’s a simple tale that acknowledges loneliness and boredom, while assuring the reader they already possess the equipment to overcome. Life doesn’t stand still for long; it’s up to us to make what we can of it. I particularly enjoy the double-page spread (not pictured) in which Molly’s reality is paired with a number of imagined adventures.

Trotter Street

This anthology series follows the exploits of a group of kids from a London street. While Hughes generally seems to focus on white, probably middle class characters (I hasten to add that her illustrations and supporting characters always depict a multicultural Britain), here she broadens her scope somewhat. Characters such as Carlos – who lives in a council house with his brother and single, working mother – are from more diverse backgrounds.

Actually, it’s worth noting that all her books depict a reasonable array of different sorts of families. While the mother is usually the primary caregiver, I never had a sense of her worlds being afflicted by rigid gender roles. I’ve only tracked down four books in this series, but suspect the original intent was to explore the sort of characters and situations that often exist at the periphery of her stories. As it is, these are great tales, possibly aimed at a slightly older audience than Dogger and Alfie, but nonetheless devoured by our (then) three-year-old. She was particularly inspired by Angel Mae, who enjoys her stage debut in the school nativity play as the “Angel Gave-You.”

Alfie

These are such a rich collection of stories. It’s a treat to be able to see Alfie grow and his relationships with friends (notably bad boy Bernard) develop. Likewise, sister Annie Rose goes from being a bit part baby to an involved and troublesome toddler. It’s probably Hughes’s most elaborate world, with the neighbours portrayed as vividly as Alfie and co (one of the stories deals rather beautifully with the death of a neighbour’s much loved moggy).

What I think I like most about these tales is the focus on relationships — friends, siblings, parents, friends of parents, neighbours. In Alfie Lends A Hand, Alfie has to negotiate his own unease at going to a party without Mum, while balancing the conflicting needs of two of his friends. In helping others, he learns something of his own strength. I never tire of reading these stories, although I’m grateful for the audiobook collection (read delightfully by Roger Allam, with music and sound effects) as the children’s enthusiasm for them exceeds even my own.

Age and stage: 2+

Gender stuff: Pretty great, really. While you could argue that most of the protagonists are male, there are some really well-crafted and atypical female characters throughout her work. Take Bella, for example. Athletic and pragmatic, where Dave is dreamy and sensitive. Likewise, male characters like Alfie resist the usual rough-and-tumble stereotype. Both Alfie and Dave are pictured crying without this being a reflection on the state of their masculinity.

Drama: realist, very child-centred, usually resolved without trauma.

Outdated bits: I’m really reluctant to pick out the old-fashioned bits, because many of those are my favourite bits. You could argue that the Britain pictured looks a bit monocultural by 21st century standards, but Hughes does a much better job at representation than almost any other picture book writer of her time.

Themes: kindness, resilience, bravery, compassion, disappointment, change, love, loss, friendship, community, stuffed animals.

[shadowsong26fic]

The Rabbit Hole AU

So, I babbled at my wonderful roommate nightlightflame (who is so much fun to bounce ideas off of omg) and decided I had to write this one up.

This is, essentially, an exercise in the Greek mythological concept of fate/destiny. Some things are Meant To Be.

...but how we get there, and what shape it takes when we arrive, well, that’s a different story.

And so, I present to you: the Rabbit Hole AU, aka Temple-Raised Palpatine.

So, Palpatine is identified as Force-sensitive as a tiny. (Which, how this was avoided in canon, IDK; his explanation in Plagueis makes little sense to me. As nightlightflame pointed out, the Son was probably involved)

Which means this is probably the Father going “hey, you see this kid over there? The kid who is clearly meant to be a Sith Lord? Let’s give him to the other guys and watch what happens.”

Anyway, Palps is identified and his father does the Right and Proper Thing and signs custody over to the Jedi Order.

For the purposes of this fic, I’m adjusting a couple things. Namely, Palpatine is five years older than his probable canon/Legends age, and Qui-Gon is approximately five years younger than his probable age.

They grow up together.

They’re friends.

(or, well, as close as Sheev can get to such things. He is still Palpatine, after all. But more on that later)

I’m going to skip over the next few years for the purposes of this outline, because they mostly deal with Qui-Gon and Palps being friends, and Qui-Gon occasionally functioning as Sheev’s external conscience, and Sheev occasionally poking at Qui-Gon until he at least acknowledges that the bigger picture exists.

And then they’re old enough to be taken as Padawans.

(this is where the fun begins)

How ‘bout some role-reversal? :D

This is the main reason why I fudged the ages.

Because given canon ages, it’s vanishingly unlikely that Dooku would take Palpatine on, particularly since this would have to happen IMMEDIATELY after Qui-Gon’s trials.

So, they’re the same age.

I’m not entirely sure who would train Qui-Gon.

Maybe Yoda?

Probably Yoda.

The only other timeline-appropriate Jedi I can think of is Jocasta Nu maybe? How old is she?

Or, wait, isn’t Plo Koon a long-lived species?

...I don’t think I want Plo Koon though, for reasons that will probably become clear later.

Dooku ably shepherds Palps through what is bound to be a fairly volatile adolescence. Palpatine develops into a shrewd, silver-tongued, and occasionally somewhat ruthless Knight. He takes his Trials at about 20/22, does remarkably well. Dooku is very proud.

Qui-Gon probably graduates around the same time, and they occasionally work together and maintain their friendship.

And then Xanatos happens.

Qui-Gon may, sadly, be backed into a corner where he has to straight-up kill Xanatos right at this point. I haven’t decided yet.

Qui-Gon, I think, straight-up leaves the Order afterwards.

MEANWHILE

Plagueis finds himself lacking in apprentice/partner candidates. He’s working to build up to the Clone Wars, because that was always the plan.

He focuses on the actual broad logistics for the time being, building the armies, etc., all while keeping an eye on several up-and-coming politicians on a variety of worlds, spinning his web.

(This will be important later.)

Some years later, Palpatine is in the Temple between missions, and idly observing a class of senior Initiates.

He sees one boy at the end of a row and deep from the bottom of his ice-cold heart comes a resounding cry of mine.

He is slightly concerned by this. Partly because he’s not overly fond of children and hasn’t ever really liked the idea of raising one (especially after what happened to poor Qui-Gon and Xanatos), but partly because...uh...

Look, Sheev knows he’s not like the others--he’s cold, calculating, finds it extremely difficult to find the empathy and compassion expected of a Jedi.

He can fake it well enough, and he’s built himself a rigid set of rules for his own behavior with Dooku’s help (which mostly but not entirely line up with the official Code), but he knows that there’s something atypical with his approach. Especially among the Jedi.

He goes to his former Master with his concerns.

Dooku’s advice boils down to, “it’s probably a very strong signal from the Force. The way it was phrased/the way you perceived it does cause some concern. Meditate for a while, speak with the boy, speak with his other instructors. Don’t rush this decision, but don’t discount the idea because of your initial reaction.”

This is very wise advice and Palpatine follows it.

Long story short, Palpatine takes Obi-Wan as his apprentice.

They are an incredible team, guys. Seriously, just think of the possibilities.

I don’t want to say much about the actual adventures they have, because that takes work I haven’t yet put into this AU, but I do need to mention Mandalore. And Satine.

Palpatine was going to recommend Obi-Wan for his Trials at that point. Then he decided “....I’ll give him a year or two to restabilize and then recommend him.”

When the time is right, he tells Obi-Wan, “when we get back to the Temple, I’m recommending you for your Trials.”

Obi-Wan: thank you, Master. I won’t fail or let you down.

Palpatine: I know. If I thought you would, I wouldn’t recommend you.

then they smile at each other because this is How They Do.

Obi-Wan, of course, passes with flying colors.

They continue getting teamed up, much like Obi-Wan and Anakin do in canon, because they work so well together.

(Also, Obi-Wan is pretty good at helping Sheev supplement his rules with Actual Decent Humanity)

Side note: Palps butts heads with the Council just as much as Qui-Gon does. But where Qui-Gon hears them out and then goes and does whatever the hell he wants to do anyway, Sheev, on the other hand, tends to hear the Council out, patiently discuss the issue, and then politely accept their judgment and withdraw. Five minutes later, the Council realizes that he just talked them into authorizing the EXACT OPPOSITE of what they wanted him to do.

Ten years later, Obi-Wan starts utilizing that same skill.

Yoda has several drinks and deeply, deeply regrets authorizing this partnership.

But doesn’t split them up because, again, super-effective and they make up for each other’s emotional weaknesses.

Qui-Gon, meanwhile, has somehow come in contact with Plagueis.

Exactly how, I’m not sure.

Now, he’s not a good candidate for the political face Plagueis needs, but he would make a decent Sith Lord.

So, he becomes the Apprentice.

He needs a Sith Name.

Any ideas?

We are now up to approximately the point where Episode I happens.

Plaugeis, as mentioned above, has been keeping an eye on several up-and-coming politicians. And his puppet King on Naboo, Veruna, is beginning to try and cut his strings.

We can’t have that.

But there is this bright, charming, idealistic, ambitious young girl.

(If only, Plagueis thinks, she were Force-sensitive)

As it is, he can split those responsibilities--this young lady, in time, can be the public face of things on the Republic side of the coming War, and Qui-Gon can assist him with those parts of his plan that require Force use.

He has another candidate in mind to run the political wing of the Separatist movement--a certain brilliant, passionate, stubborn, idealistic Duchess...

But more on her later. Let us return to Naboo.

Plaguis makes contact with the young Padme Naberrie, and encourages her to put herself forward as an alternative to Veruna’s corruption.

(From here, in time, it will be child’s play to get her into the Senate and persuade her that his way is the best to counteract the corruption in the Republic as a whole).

The planet is blockaded.

Master Palpatine and Knight Kenobi are sent to negotiate.

This first part goes much as in canon, only with Plagueis, rather than Sidious, pulling the strings.

They are still forced to take refuge on Tatooine for repairs.

Palpatine identifies the boy immediately of course. And promptly claims him for the Order. He can work out the logistics later.

Of course, he doesn’t want to lose the child. But he also doesn’t really relish the thought of raising another one.

So, naturally, he goes to Obi-Wan. “This boy is powerful, and this boy is fragile. The Sith are extinct, but the Jedi are not the only power in this universe. We cannot allow him to be manipulated by the wrong people.”

“So, instead, we manipulate him ourselves?”

“Precisely.”

Obi-Wan agrees in principle, but is a little hesitant about taking the child as an apprentice. “Master, I’m still relatively inexperienced. I’m not sure I’m ready to take on any Padawan, let alone one who will need special attention.”

Palpatine gives Obi-Wan the same advice Dooku gave him--sit with the boy, speak with him, don’t make this decision lightly or in haste. And, if Obi-Wan says no, resolves to train the boy himself. Because without one of them advocating for him--insisting--the Council will never admit him into the Order. He’s too old.

Obi-Wan follows his Master’s advice. And deep from the bottom of his warm, kind heart comes a resounding cry of mine.

Maul is probably still involved here, because I don’t think I want to drop the Qui-bomb this early. He probably gets very dead (like, for real, actual, permadead this time) because Palps and Obi-Wan together? Ahahahaha, good luck.

Qui-Gon is keenly distressed by the death of his apprentice. (Especially after Xanatos. Who he has personally killed by now, if not when things first went wrong). And then to learn it was at the hands of his one-time best friend?

Ten years pass.

Anakin trains as a Jedi. Obi-Wan and Palpatine still frequently work together, now with their tiny tagalong.

Padme finishes her term as Queen of Naboo and enters the Senate, still receiving counsel and training from Plagueis.

Finis Valorum’s term ends as scheduled. Bail Antilles is elected to replace him, replaced in his seat by Bail Organa.

And then, under the charismatic leadership of the Duchess of Mandalore, a secessionist movement begins to take shape.

Obi-Wan feels slightly conflicted. They have a reasonable point, and he can’t help but remember Satine--but his loyalty is to the Republic, to his Order, to his Master and to his Padawan. Mostly to those last.

He discusses his concerns with Palpatine, who agrees, but maintains that the chaos of factioning would be worse than the corruption Satine and her Separatists are protesting.

Anakin has no opinion. Anakin, much to his Masters’ despair, has a tin ear for politics, and will simply follow wherever they lead him.

(he’s a little better than in canon, because Palpatine, rather than aggravating his issues, is trying to ameliorate them, but some things can’t be helped.)

And then comes an attempt on Senator Amidala’s life.

(”You may need the sympathy vote to help you become Chancellor after we remove Antilles. Even your unimpeachable reputation as the Steel Flower of Naboo might not outweigh your youth and inexperience.”)

Anakin and Obi-Wan are assigned to protect her, as in canon.

Padme: ‘oh no he’s hot’

Padme: ‘kriffing hell.’

Padme: ‘my Plans for the Republic do not allow for pretty, dumb, pretty Jedi boys.’

Anakin: ::awkward attempts at flirting::

Padme: ‘WHY IS THAT ENDEARING.’

Padme: ‘kriffing hell.’

Obi-Wan: ::headwalls::

I’m not sure where Palpatine is. Possibly involved with some other investigation--while he and Obi-Wan mostly work together, sometimes only one of them is called for, and if he was on a solo mission he probably wouldn’t have been recalled.

Anyway, a poison dart still leads Obi-Wan to Kamino, and Geonosis.

Padme and Anakin still go to rescue him.

(They still make a detour to Tatooine.)

(Palpatine doesn’t really care about Shmi, sadly, so would make no efforts to free her. Obi-Wan and Anakin would probably handle it about the same as they do in canon, until it’s too late.)

(Palpatine senses what’s going on and extracts himself from his other mission immediately to go see to his flailing child, and guide him back from the brink. Because he knows what that’s like; who better to help?)

(But by the time he arrives, they’ve already left the planet.)

(He reaches Geonosis around the same time Mace’s team does.)

Geonosis is probably where I drop the Qui-bomb, actually. Mostly as muscle backing Satine--an ex-Jedi supports the Separatists!

Obi-Wan is Very Conflicted on seeing his former lover.

Satine has a Moment herself. Not enough to challenge her convictions--nothing short of actually exposing her patrons for what they are will do that--but it gives her pause.

Satine is taken out of the arena to safety.

Qui-Gon leaves as well.

Anakin and Obi-Wan pursue.

Anakin still rushes in. Anakin still loses his arm.

Palpatine is caught up in the thick of the battle, not there for his children when they need him.

(He regrets this intensely later. Not nearly so much as Qui-Gon will, of course. Friends they may have been, once upon a time, but no one harms Sheev Palpatine’s children. No. One.)

Padme requests that Anakin escort her back to Naboo. He is all too eager to agree.

His masters, who are neither stupid nor blind, meet each other’s eyes and sigh.

Palpatine: well, this is probably for the best. They’ll spend a week or so in bed, and he’ll get this infatuation out of his system.

Obi-Wan: I’m...I’m not so sure it’ll work that way, Master.

Palpatine: Five credits says I’m right.

Anakin returns to his Masters some days later and, having a different relationship with them than in canon, immediately confesses all.

(Obi-Wan discreetly holds out a hand for his credits. Palpatine, equally discreet, passes them over.)

Padme returns to the Senate and gives a stirring and passionate speech about what she witnessed at Geonosis.

Another of Plagueis’ patsies follows up by accusing Antilles of underestimating and mishandling the Separatist threat, and proceeds to call for a no-confidence vote.

The newly minted wartime Chancellor Amidala hides her smile and promises to guide them safely and surely through these troubled times.

The War begins, with Plagueis pulling strings behind both Padme and Satine.

Anakin is quickly Knighted.

Obi-Wan, while still recommending him, does see that Anakin still has trouble letting go. Especially after what happened to his mother. He consults with Palpatine, who agrees.

The Battle of Christophsis happens.

A tiny teenaged Togruta turns up, announcing she’s been assigned to Anakin.

(Some time later, deep from the bottom of his wildfire heart comes a resounding cry of mine.)

The War continues. Padme gradually accumulates power.

Palpatine begins investigating some things that don’t quite add up--it starts with tracking his obsession with Qui-Gon (he knows it’s not Jedilike, he knows it violates the Code, it comes perilously close to violating his internal rules, but that was his child.)

Things come to a head...I’m not sure exactly when.

Possible point #1: The Second Battle of Geonosis, where Anakin nearly loses Ahsoka.

Possible point #2: After the children get back from Mortis, and tell Palpatine what happened.

(This would, of course, be slightly different than in canon, but I haven’t quite worked out the details)

Possible point #3: After Umbara.

Possible point #4: After Kadavo.

(This one is less likely, because while Palpatine strenuously objects to the idea of sending his younger son there, he would acknowledge that time is a factor and there was no other team close enough.)

Anyway, at one of those four points, Palpatine is completely Done with the situation. He is taking his children and his clones and they are leaving. They are taking a third option. They are not Sith, but they are not Jedi anymore, either--what they are is a family, with an army, and a singular goal: to see peace restored to the galaxy and protect what is theirs.

Padme: what

Satine: what

Plagueis: WHAT

Palpatine, his children, and their armies form a third faction in the War. Their intent is to basically make both the Separatists and the Republic sit down, shut up, and stabilize.

They go to Padme, and lay out everything they think they know. Mostly at Anakin’s insistance, because he can’t leave his wife.

Padme hears them out, thinks back over everything she’s done with Plagueis, everything he’s asked her to do, every word he’s whispered in her ear, and says, “I’ll help you.”

They try to reach out to Satine, too, but they have no real ties in Separatist space, so it’s taking them longer.

With their generation’s most brilliant tactical mind running their offenses, they quickly make strides and gain ground. Which is nice, because it gives Padme cover to communicate with them--it’s only proper, after all, that the Chancellor should attempt to negotiate, now that the war has grown infinitely more complicated.

(She plays her part with Plagueis perfectly, of course.)

I admit, the ‘how’ of the next part is a liiiiiittle shaky, but it all basically ends with Palpatine murdering Qui-Gon in the face (with extreme prejudice), Anakin (probably with Obi-Wan’s help) killing Plagueis (this may or may not result in Anakin losing another limb or three on Mustafar because why not), and Ahsoka (with help from the clones; she’s their favorite) ending Grievous. Their faction has now won the Clone War.

The Separatists may need some mopping up, I need to work out exactly what would happen with Satine and all.

Padme graciously steps down, and Palpatine is installed as Chancellor for Life.

He does not take the title of Emperor, but that is in effect what he is now.

His sons, his daughter-in-law, and his granddaughter are at his side.

Obi-Wan does most of the day-to-day running of things--he’s very good at it, after all, and Palpatine would rather concentrate on larger problems. Handling any lingering issues with the Separatists, and one never knows what one might find outside the Republic’s borders...

Padme assists--her political acumen and strength of will are a terrible thing to waste, after all.

Anakin is happy and stable; a loving husband and father, and, together with Ahsoka, ensures that justice and stability actually exist in Palpatine’s realm.

So, to make a (very) long story short...remember what I said at the beginning, about Greek concepts of Fate?

The Clone War still ends with Palpatine ruling the Galaxy.

Anakin is still his right hand; his enforcer.

But how we got there...well, that’s the story, isn’t it?

[gethealthy18-blog]

Why I Started a Weekly Digital Day Off

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/why-i-started-a-weekly-digital-day-off/

Why I Started a Weekly Digital Day Off

I remember seeing a series of photos of people in what should have been some of the most important moments of their lives (like wedding days, holding new babies, etc.). Instead, they were all on their phones. Not enjoying the moment, not talking to each other, but looking at phones.

From a less dramatic perspective, I’ve also been guilty of looking at my phone during moments that should be some of the most important in my own life: meals with my family, time with my children, time with my husband.

This inspired me to share something I’ve been doing for a while that has really helped bring some balance to my life: a weekly digital day off from all technology.

Digital Day Off? But Why?

I get it… technology is an incredible thing. We live in a world with more information available at our fingertips than was available to all of human civilization not long ago. In fact, Google CEO Eric Schmidt has been quoted as saying that every two days, we collectively create as much information as has been created from the dawn of civilization until 2003.

This is an incredible benefit from the perspective of societal advancement, but it can also be a curse.

While our social circles were once limited to a small group of people who were geographically close to us, we now have the ability to connect with friends and family around the world, at all times. We have constant news about new babies just born to our friends, what a family member ate for dinner, or the ever-mysterious status updates that leave us wondering about the emotional state of someone we love.

In just one generation, we’ve adapted to taking in an enormous digital diet every day. How it affects us is a big question mark and of the one reasons I chose to make digital detox one of the steps in my book The Wellness Mama 5-Step Lifestyle Detox.

Here’s how the research is stacking up…

Mental Changes From Technology

We digitally “connect” much more, but according to many sources we are actually connecting on a human level much less.

Aside from the fact that I don’t want my children to remember me as always checking my phone, new research is showing that our constant use of electronics is actually changing us, mentally and physically.

This article reports:

Results from the few studies that have been done are troubling. Social media appears to promote narcissism, smartphones could be causing insomnia, and screens seem to be making our kids less empathetic.

It goes on to say that additionally, with over 4 trillion Google searches per day, new research suggests that “the Google Effect” is actually changing the way we think and that we are actually outsourcing our memories to the Internet:

Neuroimaging of frequent Internet users shows twice as much activity in the short term memory as sporadic users during online tasks. Basically, our brain is learning to disregard information found online, and this connection becomes stronger every time we experience it. So the more we use Google, the less likely we are to retain what we see.

All this to say that technology is quite literally changing our brains.

In fact, the book Mind Change argues that technology poses a threat to the very way our brains work and adapt. The author cites studies that show that technology use, especially in children, creates dopamine responses similar to drugs or junk food, shortens attention span, reduces empathy and creates many other problems.

As a mom, this is especially concerning, as my children are still developing these and many other capabilities and it makes me wonder about the long-term affects on their entire generation. This is one of the reasons my husband and I have been pretty careful to limit our children’s tech exposure, especially at young ages, and part of the reason that Steve Jobs didn’t let his children use iPads.

Physical Changes from Technology

What about changes to the body?

Aside from the mental aspects, constant exposure to technology may be actually physically changing us as well. Many phones, TVs and computers emit blue light, which we now understand can affect our normal circadian rhythms and reduce proper sleep hormone production.

This is why our children don’t have nightlights and we limit their exposure to blue light devices after dark. It is also why I wear orange sunglasses and run programs like f.lux when using my computer after dark.

Technology use has even led to new conditions that exist entirely because of computer, video game or TV use:

e-Thrombosis: a form of deep vein thrombosis that results from long-time sedentary behavior of computer uses

Nintendoitis: a condition in the tendon of the thumb from video game use

Computer Vison Syndrome: Eye fatigue from looking at computers for long periods of time

Other research suggests that technology use may be changing our posture, contributing to obesity and sleep problems, and leading to other problems as well.

The Good News

Again, technology isn’t bad, but our overuse of it might be. The good news is that it appears that even short breaks from technology can have a positive effect.

In 2015, researchers took a group of 35 people that used the internet often (CEOs and entrepreneurs) into the desert in Morocco to study if their behavior would change with and without technology use.

After only a couple of days without their smartphones, researchers saw these people exhibit better memory, relationships, conversation, and changes in perspective.

From a physical perspective, they also saw better posture, sleep and memory. All from just three days total!

What I’m Doing to Create Balance

Technology isn’t going anywhere. In fact, most adolescents consider their phones a “need” and put them in the same category with air and water. In fact, most said they would rather lose their pinky finger or their car than their phone! (Just let that sink in…)

Especially considering the attachment that younger generations have toward technology (and that many adults have as well), I’m finding that balance and an occasional digital day off are helpful for our family.

Technology is a tremendous asset in so many ways, but rather than letting it control our family, I’ve been putting measures in place so that we are in control.

Despite the fact that my blog and many aspects of my work are online, I’ve noticed that my digital day off has had only a positive effect on my life and my work/life balance.

My Digital Day(s) Off

As I mentioned, we already severely limit screen time for our children, but I’ve recently started implementing limits for myself too. As a blogger, it is all too easy to check Instagram while eating dinner or listen to a podcast while cleaning the house with my kids, but my family deserves better than that.

I decided to implement for myself 2 days a week that are a “digital detox” or digital day off. From the studies I saw, even just a couple of days away from digital technology were enough to create better memory, increase creativity and improve sleep.

During these days, I won’t use my computer or phone with the exception of phone calls to or from family members or friends.

The first couple of times I did this, I found that I was antsy and kept having the impulse to check my phone. I made an effort to instead read or play a game with my kids, or pick up a new book. Now, I savor my time away from my phone and computer and look forward to them.

Currently, my digital day off is officially on Friday (which is now our designated field trip day) and one other day of the week depending on schedule. I also won’t check or answer my phone during family time, school time, or meals, or while spending time with someone in person.

I’ve greatly enjoyed my digital time off, but more importantly, I want to make sure that my children see an example of uninterrupted family time and balance in daily life, as these become elusive in a fast-paced, high-tech world.

From a blogging perspective, this time off has increased my creativity and made me much more productive.

Other Ways to Take A Break From Tech

Don’t always use the camera on your phone– For me, the biggest temptation of using my phone is often to take pictures to document something my children are doing. As quickly as they are growing and changing at their ages, I sometimes wish I could hold each moment in a time capsule and pictures seem the closest I can get to doing this. The thing I realized is that while I have many memories stored on my phone, I hardly ever look at them except when I make our yearly photo books. Rather than turn to the phone, I’m trying to get better at soaking up memories vividly in my mind so I’ll always have them to look back on, with or without my phone.

Make a conscious effort to fill the time in a meaningful way– Just turning off the tech won’t do much if you spend the time stressed or putting out rhetorical fires. Make a plan for phone and computer free time so that you can get the most out of it.

Go on a retreat sans phone or computer– I’m able to do this more as my children get older. The benefits are obvious, but getting away without any technology use is what the study showed had the most rapid effect. Taking even just 2-3 days away, preferably in nature and with other people, is a great way to undo some digital damage.

Tell important people– To reduce stress, I let people that might need to text or email me for information know about my digital day off so that they won’t get worried or think I am ignoring them. These select people also have the ability to call me in emergencies, and I’m usually spending the day with most of them anyway.

Schedule it each night– Since blue light can be most disruptive to sleep patterns, consider starting digital time off each night. Whenever possible, I love to put down the phone and computer when I start preparing dinner for our family and not pick it up until the next morning. Not perfect at this by any means, but working on it.

Once or twice a day only– My goal is to only check email, social media, etc. once a day. I’m still working on putting systems in place so that I can accomplish this, but this is my ultimate plan. Inspired by a friend, I’m working on creating auto responders for my emails that alert people that I have received their emails but only check once a day at a certain time.

Finding Balance in the Digital World

Balance is always a moving target and obviously the “right” answer here varies and depends on multiple factors. Each family has a unique set of factors to take into account.

This is what has worked well for me, and I’m sure it will change over the years as technology changes (at warp speed) and as my kids get older. Still, it’s worth the effort to figure out the best ways to use technology in our homes… rather than letting it use us.

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How do you balance the benefits and drawbacks of technology? Do you have a digital day off?

Sources

https://news.umich.edu/you-re-so-vain-u-m-study-links-social-media-and-narcissism/

https://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/09/for-a-restful-night-make-your-smartphone-sleep-on-the-couch/

https://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/parenting/kids/uk-psychiatrist-believes-the-high-rates-of-technology-use-are-causing-kids-to-show-signs-of-autism/news-story/825d263047a8fb5d854f238e4ca5b804

https://www.netaddictionrecovery.com/the-problem/health-conditionsassociated-with-problematic-use/391-physical-conditions-associated-with-problematic-technology-use.html

https://www.netaddictionrecovery.com/the-problem/health-conditionsassociated-with-problematic-use/391-physical-conditions-associated-with-problematic-technology-use.html

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/60497/digital-day-off/