#my parents are perhaps part of the reason i see it as worthwhile to push budgeting to cover nice things

[gothmods]

Gonna have to retract this statement :/

She was cheaper via newcloversinging and they offer layaways so...

I deserve a trophy or perhaps a special ribbon ( <- did not buy a bjd that he cant financially justify)

[astrologyandlife]

jupiter and saturn together in the natal chart

i have noticed that, in many of my readings, people have both jupiter and saturn sitting in the same house of their natal chart. this makes sense because a conjunction between the two occurs every 20 years. and to me, this signals an important theme: the need to overcome struggle to unlock the opportunities of that house.

first house - there's difficulty expressing yourself fully. it's like you want to be optimistic and have faith in yourself, but something is holding you back from that. you are almost afraid of being let down. as a result, you carry around this fear and caution about everything. you doubt yourself. when people first meet you, these struggles can be visible to them. the important thing here is that you are the cultivator of your experience, and when you can work through your feelings about yourself and your environment, you will notice that you attract good luck and opportunity. you have the power to consciously change how you approach the world around you through a smile, a little bit of faith, and a more positive attitude. second house - growing up, you lacked some form of security in your life. this could have been in the form of coming from a poorer background, or having a parent(s) that did not consistently care for you in some way. and because you were not valued by those in your early environment, you struggle to ascribe value to yourself. you may develop habits of holding onto things out of fear that you will never have them again. the lesson from this placement is to understand your own worth, and to know that you are entitled to a comfortable, happy, satisfying life. using this framework you will attract wealth and opportunity. third house - the hardest part about this placement is that you feel as though you are somehow "stupid" or your ideas aren't worthwhile. you could have struggled in your early school years for various reasons ranging from not understanding the material to being in an environment that refused to accommodate your needs. you rarely share your own ideas, and you fear being rejected, wrong, or made fun of by others. you must let go of this hesitation and remind yourself that you have valuable ideas to share with the world. you have the power to persuade, to motivate, and to invigorate. in fact, once you stop second-guessing yourself, you will notice that your genius shines proudly. fourth house - your early childhood experiences were, and still are, challenging for you. you could have experienced hardship as a result of being treated poorly by your parents or even going through some trauma in the home, especially if saturn makes aspects to mars or pluto. you have fears stemming from your childhood that hold you back. what is going to be important for you is building a home for yourself that is safe, secure, and stable. in doing so, your chosen family will grow and provide you with the support you need to flourish. fifth house - you have artistic and creative talents, but it is possible that when you were younger, you received heavy messaging that these talents were in some way invaluable or unimportant. As a result, relaxation and self-expression on a creative level is severely restricted. you feel like you always have to justify the things you love. however, you are allowed to simply exist and enjoy things for their sake. once you allow yourself to be creative to the extent you are capable, you will find that it will bring opportunity and happiness to you. sixth house - i definitely get the sense that you have had to be responsible from a very young age, taking care of the chores around the house, watching over yourself, etc. perhaps your parents were particularly strict with you and imposed a lot of restrictions on your daily life. these lessons instilled within you have lead you to desire routine and organization, because you fear chaos. you also tend to put too much on yourself, leading to burnout and extreme stress. here you must unlearn any negative habits or routines you have created for yourself, including overworking yourself. in doing so, you will feel much more calm and collected, which will help you physically and mentally. seventh house - there is a lot of stress and anxiety that comes from long-term relationships. the biggest fear here is the fear that you will never find someone who can fully love and commit to you. though you have a lot to offer, you feel completely

inexperienced or as though you are nothing special. there can be a tendency to downplay your own gifts and strengths. as a result, you feel very lonely in your early life and may be distrustful of love. you are afraid of opening yourself up to rejection and pain, so you avoid forming strong attachments or giving too much of yourself. having faith in yourself and what you have to offer, as well as being confident, will attract people who have an abundance of love and affection to give to you. eighth house - this placement can be heavily indicative of one or more life-changing, traumatic experiences, namely when pluto is involved. this experience has transformed you in some major way, likely inducing a fear of change or the unknown within you. you hold on to these memories and this pain in your heart, which stunts your growth as a person. the second half of the healing must be a conscious act by you, wherein you decide that you have what it takes to continue surviving. there is definitely a need for complete rebirth here. once you have come out on the other side, the magic of life itself will be revealed to yourself. you will become resilient in ways you could never imagine, and you will have the strength to overcome anything. ninth house - i have the feeling that your early life was extremely narrow and did not allow you to explore the world around you properly. perhaps your parents were extremely overprotective of you, or overbearing in sharing their opinions with you, and this was a very suffocating feeling. your own opinions and ideas were not welcome by the people in your life, and often they were even shut down. so you must start anew with your independence. remain open and take time to immerse yourself in anything you can, especially ideas radically different from your own. by opening your mind, jupiter will reward you with a wealth of knowledge and experience from which you can draw. tenth house - early on in your life, ideas of what it means to be successful, accomplished, and a productive member of society were heavily pushed on you by the people in your life. you almost feel as though you aren't meant to have agency in your own future, because you are trying to do what you are "supposed" to do. your parents could have been a bit overbearing in trying to prepare you for the future. trusting yourself and forming your own ideas of success and fulfillment will lead to you experiencing much more opportunity within your career. you must overcome a fear of failure here. eleventh house - on a deep level, you feel completely alone in the world. you feel as though it is impossible for anyone to truly understand you, or that they would even want to try. you are a deeply lonely person at times. i could see this placement as indicating that you were a social outcast or somehow distanced from others in your youth, leading to you believing there is something fundamentally wrong with you that prevents you from forming meaningful relationships. you doubt yourself, thinking, am i boring? am i too plain? am i unlikeable? here, you must cast these thoughts away and put forth effort anyways. twelfth house - the biggest struggle with this is that you feel unable to let go of the past and to forgive yourself. the biggest obstacle here is yourself. you have these feelings like you have done too much bad, or something you have done in the past is irredeemable. you may find that, in times of particular stress, you have nightmares or trouble sleeping. the twelfth house challenges you to let go of all of these things, to forgive yourself. you have to look at your pain and grief and allow yourself to feel it, then to let it go. in some way, you have to completely allow yourself to dissolve. after you do these things, you will find that your life as a whole improves, and you can handle anything much better.

some notes as well:

the closer to conjunction the two are, the more intensely this is felt by the native

if they aspect the sun, moon, or angles, these lessons will come up in the individual's day-to-day life

if jupiter is closer to the beginning of the house, it can lessen the impact of saturn

[gusu-emilu]

seven nights to turn (3/4)

chapter three: turn

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Jiang Cheng counts the passage of time by nights, not days. He’s spending the next seven in a cabin on the fringe of the Cloud Recesses. On the first night, he hears humming.

Rated E, Post-Canon, Mentioned Canonical Violence & Character Deaths, Grief/Trauma, Panic Attacks, but finally some bonding time

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning’s eyes are still fixed on the spot on the floor where the brush had landed. “That’s a—that’s what the Lan use to clean their guqins,” he says.

“I know what it is.” Jiang Cheng staggers to his feet, his back aching from being shoved to the floor.

“Why do you have it?”

Jiang Cheng considers storming out the door and not looking back, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“For…” Wen Ning furrows his brow, like this is the most perplexing situation he’s ever encountered. “For Hanguang-Jun?”

If only Wen Ning had assumed the brush was for someone else, some random Lan disciple, or one of the juniors—hell, even Lan Qiren would do—because letting Wen Ning think that he bought a guqin brush for that stuck-up asshole Lan Wangji is not allowable.

“It’s for Lan Sizhui.” Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Wei Wuxian asked me to buy it.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “No, A-Yuan just got a new brush recently. All Wei-gongzi needs to buy for him is cleaning oil.”

Jiang Cheng is beginning to feel like a caged animal.

Wen Ning takes an awkward step toward him. “Did you leave that bottle of oil outside A-Yuan’s door?”

“How do you know about that?”

He shrugs. “I saw it there.”

It’s a good thing that Wen Ning didn’t light a lamp in the room, because Jiang Cheng’s cheeks are starting to burn. Hopefully the blue moonlight doesn’t reveal any color in his face.

“Why didn’t you leave the brush there, too?”

Before Jiang Cheng knows what he’s doing, as if something outside himself is puppeteering his limbs and forcing him to speak, he walks up to Wen Ning and holds out the brush. “You give it to him.”

Wen Ning stares at it, his lips parted.

“Take it.”

He carefully lifts the brush from Jiang Cheng’s hand, making sure not to touch his skin, and continues to stare at it, studying its red handle. “These colors…A-Yuan can’t use this when other people are around.”

Jiang Cheng wants to bite his own lip open. He’s humiliated himself with yet another useless gift.

“Fine, then. It’s not like you appreciated the other things I gave you,” he says before he can stop himself.

Startled, Wen Ning tightens his grip around the brush. Then he murmurs, “Gave me?” His eyes widen. “The tea…talismans…”

Jiang Cheng’s gut plummets with panic.

“I’ve—I’ve—” Wen Ning stammers. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell are you apologizing for now?”

“You really were just trying to be kind, and in return I’ve…harmed you.”

“You didn’t harm me!” More heat rises in him at the suggestion that Wen Ning somehow hurt him—especially because in a way, it’s true. “And I wasn’t—I wasn’t ‘trying’ to be anything! It’s just, if you were going to hum outside my door every night, you should’ve at least done something to make it sound good!”

Wen Ning gives a sad, thoughtful look. The face of a corpse shouldn’t be this expressive. “I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

“I don’t sleep anyway!” He immediately clamps his mouth shut. He didn’t mean to say that.

Wen Ning seems to contemplate this for a moment. “I don’t either.” He walks away to find a place to set down the brush, his back turned to Jiang Cheng.

An excellent opportunity for Jiang Cheng to slip away.

He doesn’t.

He can’t push it down anymore. He can’t not admit it to himself.

There is something about Wen Ning that keeps Jiang Cheng rooted in place, waiting. A sense of Wen Ning’s potential to both heal and destroy him. A feeling that they share some of the same miseries. A hope to set one thing right out of the mistakes he made in the past.

The moment that Wen Ning protected Jin Ling from Baxia—his body bent over and strained, his teeth bared in a grimace, the skin of his palm slicing open under the blade as he held it back—Jiang Cheng’s entire perception of him flipped.

He can’t hate someone who is the reason Jin Ling is still alive.

Could Lan Sizhui be the key to changing how Wen Ning sees him?

A brush and a bottle of oil are nothing, pitiful gifts if they count as gifts at all, but Wen Ning seems like the type of person who would gaze in wonder if you gave him a pinecone and said it was because it looked pretty.

Could this sudden softening of Wen Ning’s demeanor be from Jiang Cheng’s show of care, however small, for Lan Sizhui?

How much more could he change how Wen Ning saw him if he actually did something worthwhile?

Dread rises in him at the thought. Somehow the idea of undeserved forgiveness from Wen Ning is more frightening than his wrath.

His thoughts break when Wen Ning returns to stand in front of him, his expression much softer than before. “Thank you. A-Yuan will like the brush.” He tugs at his sleeves. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just—I thought you would have understood.”

“The brush was just a random color.”

“No, not that—I mean, that too—but I…I mean, the other things.”

“I don’t have time to listen to you speak in riddles,” Jiang Cheng says despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he has nowhere to be. “Say it clearly.”

“Well, first—"

“It doesn’t need a preamble.”

Wen Ning’s expression darkens. “First, I don’t like to be called a Wen-dog.”

Jiang Cheng feels a pang in his chest. “I…I didn’t mean that anyway.”

Wen Ning nods, but he doesn’t seem exactly happy. Perhaps Jiang Cheng had snapped at him too much.

“Your humming…” Jiang Cheng looks away. “I didn’t mean that either. It’s fine. It could be better. But it’s fine.”

“Really?” Wen Ning sounds genuinely surprised. Then, more quietly: “I really had thought you would’ve understood.”

“Understood what?”

“Now that you know.”

“You—" He stops himself, takes a moment to sap some of the impatience from his voice. “Just get to the point.”

Wen Ning frowns. His voice is a low murmur, rough with the same imperfections as his humming. “I’ve always wondered what it might be like to be more human again. When Wei-gongzi returned from his travels, I asked him to help fix a few things about me. The first thing he worked on was my voice, so I could hum and sing.”

Jiang Cheng shifts his feet, waiting for him to continue.

Wen Ning looks out the window. “I’m very grateful for it. Wei-gongzi was happy too. After that he came up with more plans, more ways to help me. I thought that it would make me feel better.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Already the next day, I didn’t want it anymore. It just made me think of...” He trails off, then collects himself. “I’ve been experimented on enough already.”

Jinlintai.

What had it been like, those sixteen years Wen Ning was locked in Jinlintai?

Something claws up inside Jiang Cheng, and he realizes that it’s…protectiveness. “What did they do to you?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“That’s…good.”

Jiang Cheng had been tortured at the hands of the Wen, and that had only been for a night. He still dreams about it sometimes, the sting of the discipline whip on his back, the horror of his parents’ bodies bloody and lifeless on the ground, the iron grip that seemed to rip his core right out of him. He can’t imagine remembering years of agony like that. To have that pain forever weighing on his mind.

“I didn’t want Wei-gongzi’s help anymore,” Wen Ning says. “But I didn’t know how to tell him.” Apparently that’s the end of the story, because he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but be reminded of the golden core transfer.

He has been changed. Been experimented on.

The realization hits him, and his heart sinks. Wen Ning had expected him to know how it feels to be broken and fixed. To know the conflicting feelings of gratitude and inadequacy and guilt that resulted from it. This was why Jiang Cheng’s attempt to improve his humming offended him so much—because all his “help” did was tell Wen Ning that he was incomplete.

Of all people, Jiang Cheng should have known.

“I…” He swallows. “I understand.”

Relief appears on Wen Ning’s face. He looks down at his hands. Then, like he doesn’t want Jiang Cheng to hear it, he mumbles, “I’ve been avoiding him.”

That’s a shock.

To his surprise, Jiang Cheng finds himself getting angry on his brother’s behalf. “You shouldn’t do that,” he says. When Wen Ning glances up, confused, he clarifies, “Shouldn’t avoid him.”

“Neither should you.”

Jiang Cheng freezes.

He knows he can’t argue with that, but he tries anyway. “It would be easier for you,” he says, sharper than he means to.

Wen Ning looks him dead in the eyes. “Would it?”

That catches him off guard.

“One thing I do remember from Jinlintai is…” Wen Ning seems to wince as if old wounds are torn open again. “I remember M-Mo Xuanyu.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen.

“He would talk to me. Sometimes he was even nice to me. But he also had to…had to…”

Now he fully understands.

What must it be like for Wen Ning to see his closest friend return in the body of someone who tortured him? How could he explain this to Wei Wuxian without making him feel guilty about something he couldn’t control?

Wen Ning looks lost in memory. Miserable.

Uncertain of what to say, Jiang Cheng rests his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder.

Wen Ning makes the tiniest gasp and glances down at Jiang Cheng’s hand. Something shifts in his expression—Jiang Cheng can’t tell what—but it’s like a single knot of a giant tangle has come untied.

Jiang Cheng slowly removes his hand. “You shouldn’t have been there in Jinlintai.”

“But I killed so many of their clansmen.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I killed Jin Zixuan.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was by my hand. The resentful energy was mine.”

“You were being controlled!”

Wen Ning draws his lower lip between his teeth. His voice is thick with emotion, like he is afraid of his own words. “I have so much resentment in me.” He looks away suddenly, wrings his hands. “I never wanted to kill Jin Zixuan. I never wanted to kill anybody. But…I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t like him that much.”

Of course Wen Ning wouldn’t like Jin Zixuan. He was in a position of power, the best candidate to protect the Dafan Wen. He was the favored son of that gilded swine of a man who led the cruelty against them, and he did not prevent it.

“You can’t control whether or not you like someone,” Jiang Cheng says. “I didn’t like him all that much either!”

“But I couldn’t stop myself,” Wen Ning says. “All it took was Wei-gongzi losing control, and I lost control too. And because the resentment was already in me…I killed him. It was me.” He shakes his head. “This is why we can never be even, Jiang Wanyin. You stepped aside when you could have helped, and I—I can’t forgive you for that. But my people were already doomed to die from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. You didn’t even do anything to directly harm us.

“But I killed with my own hands. Jin Zixuan was never meant to die, and I had the chance to stop it. I didn’t.” He looks at the floor, his lip quivering. “If I hadn’t killed him…Wei-gongzi and Jiejie could’ve lived.”

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“But—”

“I hate you for it. But I don’t blame you.”

“Then we truly can’t be even, because I still blame you.”

The words are like a punch in the stomach. But what else could he expect?

“Then blame me! Blame me all you want!”

“I don’t want to blame you.”

“Just…” Jiang Cheng lets go of him. “Make up your mind.”

Wen Ning is silent for a few moments. “I’m still worried about something like Qiongqi Path happening again. It almost did, when I was possessed by Baxia.”

“No. You saved Jin Ling.”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply.

Now would be the time for Jiang Cheng to leave, to finally let Wen Ning remain undisturbed. But he stands in place, suddenly calm.

“You said you don’t sleep.” Jiang Cheng tries to make it sound like a question.

“You don’t either?”

“…Not really.”

“I don’t need to sleep, though.”

“Can you?”

Wen Ning’s jaw tightens. “I don’t like to.”

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumb back and forth over the metal coils of Zidian. There are only a few things that could make someone choose not to sleep. “…Dreams?”

The only answer is a telling silence.

Nodding, Jiang Cheng turns toward the door and slides it open. Pauses.

He shuts the door. “If you…if you’re going to be up all night—”

“You can stay.” Wen Ning gestures toward the tea table. “If you want.”

Jiang Cheng chews his lip. He was going to ask Wen Ning to come to his cabin, but…that might be too much to ask for.

They sit.

The air feels slightly warmer, but dense and heavy. Wen Ning rocks back and forth in his seat, staring down at the table, until eventually he stops and there is no movement left in the room.

Anxious to break the stillness, Jiang Cheng pours a cup of tea, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. His eyes wander around the dim room, hunting for a distraction from the heaviness in the air. He nods toward the assortment of plants and cultivation objects on the windowsill. “What’s all that?”

Wen Ning turns toward the window. “Medicinal herbs.”

“Are you the doctor around here or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m…I’m trying to recreate some medicines that my sister used to make. A lot of the recipes are missing from her writings.” He looks down at his hands. “A lot of her work has been lost.”

A strange silence settles over them. Jiang Cheng feels a warm pulse from his golden core.

He clears his throat. “It’s uh…it’s a shame.”

Wen Ning thins his lips. Slouches forward.

“Have you made any of the medicines?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Not quite.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “My…my sister used to write songs. She’d sing them.” He adds, more quietly, “Or hum them.”

Wen Ning’s gaze intensifies.

“She had pages and pages of music in Lotus Pier.” He turns the tea cup back and forth, wearing its bottom into the table. “All burned. She never rewrote them.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.” Suddenly uncomfortable, he props his elbows on the table and folds his hands in front of his face, studying Wen Ning and wondering how to continue talking. If he should continue talking. He isn’t good at…whatever this is.

But questions are easy enough. Questions are working.

He points toward the window. “What’s the rest of the stuff there? All the spiritual items between the plants.”

Wen Ning hesitates for a moment, then walks over to the windowsill. “They’re mostly things the juniors found on night hunts.” He picks up a dark red gemstone. “This is a garnet stone that helps dissipate negative energies. A-Yuan found it near Qinghe.” He exchanges the stone for a necklace of carved wooden beads. “A-Yuan bought this in a town we visited.” Next he picks up a thin bundle of talismans, and his face lights up. “Wei-gongzi has been teaching A-Yuan how to invent his own talismans, and he wrote these himself. If you light one, it makes sparks that take the shape of an animal and fly through the air.”

He explains more items on the shelf, and although there are one or two “Lan Jingyi”s or “Ouyang Zizhen”s or some name Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize in the mix, the same refrain comes up over and over: A-Yuan gave me this, A-Yuan bought that, A-Yuan made this, A-Yuan found that.

Apparently once Wen Ning gets on the topic of “A-Yuan,” he doesn’t shut up. Jiang Cheng finds himself reminded of how proud he felt each time A-Ling won a sword fight, or passed an exam, or defeated a beast on a night hunt. The corners of his mouth creep upward.

“And this one—" Wen Ning cuts off and stares at Jiang Cheng like something is wrong with him.

Embarrassed, Jiang Cheng clears the smile from his face. “What?”

Wen Ning stares for a little longer, then glances away. “Um, nothing.”

He doesn’t discuss the few remaining items, instead wordlessly examining the plants. Jiang Cheng finds himself relieved by this choice, as his thoughts of A-Ling disappear, replaced by the memory of a toddler hugging his leg in the Burial Mounds, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear more about Lan Sizhui.

Although some of A-Ling’s milestones happened out of Jiang Cheng’s sight, he learned of them no less than a day later. Even so, Jiang Cheng still has keepsakes from A-Ling in his bedroom.

But Wen Ning missed everything in Lan Sizhui’s life. Of course he would clutch onto these small trinkets and display them like decorations.

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumbs together. “He’s…he’s a good kid.”

Wen Ning fiddles with the leaves of a plant. “He is.”

For the sake of something to do, Jiang Cheng finishes the tea in his cup. Pours another.

Wen Ning rests his hand on one of the pots on the windowsill. “I just remembered that I need to prune this plant. Is it alright if I—”

“I don’t care.”

Wen Ning carries over the large potted plant, some kind of small bush, and sets it down on the floor next to the table. He brings over shears that are bit too small for his hands and starts cutting away tiny sections of the bush. Jiang Cheng sips tea and listens to the gentle snipping sounds, sometimes watching Wen Ning tend to the plant, sometimes watching the liquid swirl in his cup, sometimes staring at nothing at all. Exhaustion begins to seep into him.

After a while, a faint sound of music reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears.

Humming.

Tension releases from his muscles. The cup feels heavy in his hand.

He must nearly close his eyes, because the humming stops, and Wen Ning murmurs, “I thought you don’t sleep.”

“Mn.” Jiang Cheng blinks a few times and straightens himself up.

He expects Wen Ning to suggest he go back to his own cabin, but instead Wen Ning asks, “Does this…does this help you sleep?”

“No.” He sounds drowsier than he wants to.

Wen Ning resumes his trimming of the plant.

The last thing Jiang Cheng remembers after that is half-walking, half-staggering back to his cabin, a phantomlike pressure steadying him—or perhaps nothing was touching him at all—and then soft blankets surround him as he drifts asleep to the faint melody of humming in the distance.

* * *

He wakes with a jolt.

Groaning. Someone is in pain—

It’s still nighttime. He must not have slept for long. He shoves off the covers and hastens outside, following the gut-wrenching groans until he arrives at the creek where Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui had played music four nights ago.

Wen Ning is on the ground, hunched over at the bank of the creek with his hands in the water. His body is convulsing. Dark, cloudy tendrils snake upward from him.

Resentful energy.

Jiang Cheng runs forward and drops to the ground beside Wen Ning. He grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him away from the water.

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Jiang Cheng is not the man to help in this situation. When has he ever been able to calm someone down? Wei Wuxian would know what to do—

Should he get Wei Wuxian?

But what could happen if he leaves Wen Ning alone?

He uses strength from his spiritual energy to steady Wen Ning’s convulsions. “I need you to come back! Tell me—”

“Don’t do it…” Wen Ning moans toward some unseen figure, as if trapped in a nightmare.

What could shake Wen Ning back to consciousness? Force him into the present?

The one thing that has grounded Jiang Cheng through the darkest times has been work—the tedium of life, of running his sect, the constant chores and movement. Something to latch onto and distract himself.

The idea doesn’t seem promising, but it’s worth a try.

“Tell me everything you do during a day,” Jiang Cheng says.

“A…a day?” Wen Ning croaks out.

“Just list it for me. List everything you do in the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Ning doesn’t respond, but the smoke of resentful energy begins to wither, folding in on itself as it floats downward.

“What did you do today?” Jiang Cheng squeezes his shoulders tighter. “What do you need to do tomorrow?”

Wen Ning rocks back and forth. “I—I usually…b-buy things…”

“Good…good...”

“Go on night hunts.” The resentful energy begins to thin.

It’s working. He can’t believe it’s actually working.

“Keep going,” Jiang Cheng searches his face for signs of his awareness returning. “You’re—you’re doing well. Keep listing.”

“I take inventory of m-medical supplies.” Wen Ning’s voice is hoarse, but it’s beginning to sound less pained. “Sometimes I clean them.”

Jiang Cheng loosens his hold on Wen Ning, who has stopped rocking back and forth. “Good…tell me more.”

“Read music books that Hanguang-Jun gave me. Take care of the rabbits on the back hill.” He smiles a bit. “Get chased out of the Main Hall by Lan Qiren.”

He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and the last wisps of resentful energy dissipate.

They stare at each other until Jiang Cheng realizes his hands are still on Wen Ning’s shoulders. He pulls away and stands up. Takes a few steps back and clears his throat.

Wen Ning hangs his head. “Th-Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng nods. Swallows. “You…weren’t kidding when you said you can’t control yourself.”

“I’m not usually like this.” He turns to watch the flow of the creek like he wants to dissolve into it and drift away. “This hasn’t happened to me in a long time.”

“…Why’d it happen now?”

Wen Ning gives a small, rueful smile. “I fell asleep.”

“Your dreams are that bad?”

“I don’t exactly get dreams anymore.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his robe. “They’re more like recurring memories.”

Memories. Those can be much worse than nightmares.

Jiang Cheng feels a sudden urge to lift this burden from Wen Ning. To be a well for Wen Ning to fill with his pain until everything from the past hangs on Jiang Cheng’s heart, not his.

His attempts to give Wen Ning something have been useless.

If Jiang Cheng is stuck forever taking from Wen Ning, he can at least try to take away something that weighs him down.

“Memories of what?”

Wen Ning silently trails his fingers through the creek. There is no sound in the forest except the water’s gentle murmuring as it flows around Wen Ning’s hand.

Just before Jiang Cheng is about to ask again, Wen Ning mumbles, “They made me watch.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Jiang Cheng slowly lowers to sit on the ground a few feet away and waits for him to continue speaking.

Wen Ning starts pulling out blades of grass from the ground, his fingers still wet from the creek and dripping beads of water onto the cold grass like dew. “I had to w-watch when she…when she was...” He trails off.

Jiang Cheng’s chest constricts.

He can’t be talking about what Jiang Cheng thinks he is.

But what else could it be?

By the way Wen Ning’s eyes are filled with pain, Jiang Cheng’s guess cannot be wrong.

Wen Ning was forced to watch Wen Qing be burned at the stake.

The image scorches his mind. Rips at his throat and leaves his voice useless.

He had never been able to bring himself to think about what might have happened to her in Jinlintai. He had seen the Dafan Wen hanging by nooses in a row along the wall of Nightless City, seen Wen Qing’s ashes scattered in the wind, and but to have seen her agony before she fell lifeless—the claws of flames, white skin seared red, spine-chilling screams—

Jiang Cheng had held A-Jie in his arms as she died, but at least she hadn’t screamed. At least she hadn’t writhed in pain. She had just quietly turned cold and motionless…

A soft whimper in front of him, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Wen Ning has started speaking again. He makes noises that don’t sound much like words until finally he whispers, “She never looked at me.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

“I…I g-guess she thought that if she didn’t look at me, it wouldn’t hurt me as much. But—” He grips his sleeves tight, stretching the fabric as his hands begin to shake. “But I wanted her to look at me. And now when I sleep, I keep—I keep dreaming about it, but even in the dreams she never…n-never…”

The forest fades away.

A-Jie is limp in Jiang Cheng’s arms.

Bloody. Trembling.

Pulling her hand out of Jiang Cheng’s grasp, reaching one last time for Wei Wuxian.

She never looked at Jiang Cheng while she died.

The nightmare of A-Jie’s death has returned to him over and over, lurking in the depths of his grief and slithering into his dreams on nights he was already close to breaking.

But no matter how many times the nightmare repeats, A-Jie still never looks at him.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes feel like they might be wet, but his body seems separate from himself, distant. He sits closer to Wen Ning without being sure of how he gets there, without fully feeling the sensations of shifting his weight or pressing his hands into the grass or letting his breath become unsteady.

He wonders how Wen Ning was able to fall asleep here. If he does not need to sleep, why would he try, knowing what he would dream about?

But Jiang Cheng does not ask.

As they sit there at the bank of the creek, watching the water trickle along and catch the moonlight, the memories fade as if washed away by the stream. Wen Ning’s presence beside him, steady and motionless and slumped over slightly, is almost…comforting. It’s nice to have someone to sit next to.

His mind wanders to the list of Wen Ning’s daily activities in the Cloud Recesses. Despite all the chores and organizing, his life here sounds peaceful. Relaxed.

But why does Wen Ning only perform the jobs of an errand boy?

Jiang Cheng has seen him on night hunts, seen him step forward from the shadows and instantly eliminate danger with his strength and cleverness. And now Jiang Cheng has also seen the small collection of herbs Wen Ning grows in his cabin and uses to recreate lost medicines.

Yet to the Cloud Recesses, he is just an errand boy.

Doesn’t he have...more to offer than that?

The conversation Jiang Cheng overheard between Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi makes more sense now. Wen Ning acts differently while on night hunts than while in the Cloud Recesses because on night hunts, he is useful. In the Cloud Recesses, what difference is there between him and any ordinary servant?

Especially if Lan Sizhui is always busy training, and Wei Wuxian…he has his own issues to work through with Wei Wuxian.

“Do you want to be here?” Jiang Cheng finds himself asking.

Wen Ning must have been lost in thoughts of his own, because he tenses, startled. “What do you mean?”

“The Cloud Recesses.” He gestures around vaguely. “Where else?”

Wen Ning is slow to answer. “Yes. A-Yuan is here.”

A small bit of jealousy nips at Jiang Cheng, knowing that Wen Ning can live in the same place as the last member of his family. Jiang Cheng does not think he would answer differently himself.

“If you could go somewhere else, where would you go?”

“Tanzhou,” Wen Ning says without hesitation.

Tanzhou. The city south of Yunmeng with all the gardens. A quick glance at the array of herbs on the windowsill is enough to make it obvious that Wen Ning likes plants, but that doesn’t seem like a reason compelling enough for him to be so sure of his destination, as if he has thought about this question daily.

“Why there?”

“I heard that Song-daozhang is staying there for a while. I…I’d like to talk to him.” To talk to someone like me, is what goes unsaid.

A sinking feeling grips Jiang Cheng.

Song Lan would understand Wen Ning much better than Jiang Cheng ever could.

There are probably many others who could understand Wen Ning better. Who could help him heal. Who could give him something.

As soon as Jiang Cheng recognizes the thought in himself, he tries to stamp it away, but it persists. He shoves it down enough to continue speaking. “You should go to Tanzhou before Song Lan leaves.”

“But—"

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jiang Cheng scowls at him. “Don’t tell me you like this white-robed hellhole.”

“But A-Yuan…”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “He’ll be fine without you. He has Wei Wuxian and the entire Lan Clan to look after him.”

His own words nearly make him laugh with spite at himself. Who is he to speak like this? He still stalks A-Ling on night hunts, still worries about him every day, still feels like every moment with A-Ling is not enough, because one day he could be gone.

But a trip away from the Cloud Recesses would be good for Wen Ning. If he has thought so much about meeting Song Lan…he should go.

“It isn’t that far of a journey,” Jiang Cheng says. “You could come back to the Cloud Recesses whenever you’re finished.

Wen Ning tilts his head and stares into the water. “Maybe…maybe I’ll go, then.”

“Stop in Lotus Pier on your way there.”

Wen Ning looks up in shock.

It takes a moment for Jiang Cheng to realize what he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Heat rises to his face. He stands up, tries to put distance between himself and Wen Ning. He needs to cover for himself—needs an excuse—“Well, look at yourself! You can barely control your resentful energy! You think I’m going to let you pass through Yunmeng unsupervised?”

“I can—I can just travel south of Yunmeng—”

“I’m not letting you pass through the neighboring territories unsupervised either!”

“O-Okay.”

They freeze like that, Jiang Cheng blushing and clenching his fists like an idiot, and Wen Ning sitting on the ground and staring up at him with round eyes.

When Jiang Cheng finally gets his voice to work, it sounds unsure and creaky, like a rusted metal hinge. “Then you’ll come to Lotus Pier with me when I leave tomorrow morning.”

Wen Ning blinks. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Jiang Cheng takes a step back. “I’m—I’m going to my cabin now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“…Y-Yes.”

Jiang Cheng turns and walks up the path until he is out of Wen Ning’s sight, then races to his cabin. He doesn’t slow down until the door is shut behind him, and even then his heart is still pounding.

He mindlessly follows his nighttime routine in an attempt to calm his nerves. His muscles ache when he climbs into bed for another futile attempt at sleep. He has no idea what time it is. Sunrise could be in as soon as an hour, and then he will already be taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He is taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He flips onto his stomach and tries to sink into the mattress, hoping the pressure will stifle the bizarre tingling in his chest. Flips onto his back and rubs between his eyes.

What the hell did I just do?

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

Ch. 4 >

[admiralty-xfd]

Kiss prompts - 1. First kiss please x

I’m going canon-divergent on you, Sarah. Hope you enjoy. ;)

She’d been here before so many times.

Not just in his apartment, the stale scent of sweat and aftershave as familiar as her own. But here, in this position of which way do we go. It was a choice she’d never made because they’d never been forced to make it. Perhaps they never would.

She’d opted to take the floor tonight, her back against the couch, and because of this Mulder had sprawled out across it, his arm resting just behind her shoulder. Every so often his fingers would brush her back and she couldn’t focus, she couldn’t think of anything other than his fingers touching her, so she turned her head ever so slightly to study him.

He hadn’t noticed her staring, as his eyes were fixated on the glow of the screen: some movie he’d picked that was far more interesting when she watched it in the reflection of his eyes. Even in his ridiculous sci-fi-fantasy films, the guy always got the girl. But never in real life, not in this life, as much as she wanted it to. She wanted to laugh at the irony: they were practically living a sci-fi fantasy and still, years later, nothing.

His collar was unbuttoned, tie loosened, shirt untucked. A half-drunk beer sat on the floor within his reach. Work Mulder was one thing, but Home Mulder was a far more elusive animal for her to witness in captivity. She imagined him doing this very same thing night after night regardless of her presence, and wondered if her being here meant anything, changed anything.

She was so tired of this: of not being noticed by him, of waiting endlessly to know the truth. Seven years together and she felt like she knew him so well, but at the same time hardly at all. It was confounding.

Perhaps it was the gentle brush of his fingers, or his reliable steady breathing behind her, but something had awakened inside her and she felt a bravery she didn’t recognize. At first she wanted to blame the six pack they’d been sharing but she knew she was not drunk, not at all; the Shiner Bock swam inside her like a friend, like someone she’d needed for years to tell her to go after the things she wanted, the things she deserved. Like Missy in her ear telling her she was worthwhile no matter how her parents made her feel.

“Mulder, can I ask you a question?”

He looked down at her. “Yeah.”

She took a deep breath, and then out it came. “Are you lonely?”

He blinked, surprised at this personal affront. She expected this reaction; they so rarely discussed their emotions with each other. “Why do you ask?”

She looked directly into his eyes and told him the truth. “Because I am.”

His expression changed just then, not to pity or sympathy but something else. She knew his face, every line, every pore. She knew it better than she probably should. And what she saw was complete and total understanding.

Her gaze fell, unable to muster the courage to hold his own, and landed on his arm instead as it rested on the edge of the couch. It enchanted her; the shape of his extensor digitorum, traveling from his wrist to the crook of his arm, the dimple it created where his elbow bent. His sleeve, rolled up and resting between bicep and forearm, where it always landed at the end of a brutal day. His skin: the tint of it, like the sand she’d trod to find a cure to save his life halfway around the world.

She’d lay awake night after night and thought of little else since then; those long hours spent in Africa when she’d feared for his life. It had felt like they still had such a long way to go to reach each other.

But there was no distance tonight, not this time. He was here, now. He was inches away from her, his aroma intoxicating, his breathing audible even over the sounds of the television. He was real and she was real and somehow she knew that this thing between them was real, too; this thing they’d denied themselves over the years was real and it would not go away, it would remain, lingering in the air like a cloaked spacecraft.

She couldn’t see it, but it was real. In this she wanted to believe.

He hadn’t answered her question, perhaps wondering how to respond. She turned towards him from her position on the floor and her hand reached out to touch his forearm, her fingers curling around it. It felt so freeing, just making this decision to touch him, an active decision and following through with it. There was no reason, no excuse.

This was it, this was the moment of no return, and it was no longer a choice but a compulsion. She couldn’t pretend the spacecraft didn’t exist.

She wanted to be touched by someone. She wanted to be held by someone. And she wanted that someone to be him.

“Mulder.”

She turned, and rose up onto her knees to face him. The remote rested beside his head on the arm of the couch and she took it, muted the television, dropped the remote. He looked at her with a look she couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t a look that said don’t. It was the furthest thing from that look she could discern. So she leaned into him, all the way in, and she felt him inhale ever so slightly as she took the biggest risk of her life.

When their lips finally touched he kissed her back, and all the things she knew were wrong with the world disappeared from her mind, everything bad that had happened in their lives was simply gone, and what remained were Mulder’s lips pressed against her own, nothing but the sweet taste of victory.

His eyes closed and she could hear a small sound from deep within him, the tiniest sigh of satisfaction, even relief. This was exactly the way she’d imagined it happening all these years, right down to the gentle gurgle of his fish tank beside them, ethereal green light surrounding them. Here, right here, is where she’d pictured it.

The heavenly delirium of his mouth against hers thrilled her enough to spur her on, to part her lips and see what he would do. She expected him to go for it, wanted him to go further, to fill her mouth with his tongue and push her down to the floor, put an end to this persistent ache she suspected they’d both felt for years.

But he didn’t. He kissed her gently, almost reverently. Like he didn’t want to break her. Like he was holding something back.

She pulled away, a flush of uncertainty spreading from her head to her toes.

“Say something,” she whispered. She pulled her hands together protectively, resting them on the couch between them.

His hand moved to cover her own, the warmth a comfort but still he did not speak. Suddenly a terror grabbed hold of her that perhaps she’d done something wrong, that maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they’d abstained all these years for an important reason and now she’d lose him forever.

“Mulder, speak to me.”

His eyes then revealed a new expression, and it was not hesitation or discomfort. It was not regret. It was absolute wonder. It was shock and amazement. It was discovery.

His mouth hung open, eyes softening. His voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m afraid... if I say something I’ll wake myself up,” he said, more quietly than she’d ever heard him speak.

It didn’t feel real, any of it, although she knew it was. She smiled, taking his forearm, and with two fingers pinched it softly. He reacted but neither of them woke up, as she knew would be the case. She brought his arm up to her lips and kissed where she’d pinched him, just wanting to touch him, needing to feel the heat of him, wanting this more badly than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life. Wanting him to know this was real.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his hand curving, cupping her face, lingering there for a moment. He pulled her towards him and she prepared for another kiss, another step towards their nirvana, but instead he pulled his mouth close to her ear.

“Scully…” he whispered. “Are you sure you want this?” His voice hitched, hesitating, and she could tell he didn’t want to say the next part. But he did. “Are you sure you want… me?”

The idea that she could possibly want anyone other than Fox Mulder hadn’t occurred to her in years, and his humility in a moment where that was clearer than ever humbled her in turn. She was in awe of him, of his concern that her loneliness was perhaps misplaced.

“Yes, Mulder,” was all she could think of to say. Yes, yes, yes. I will tell you yes until the end of our days. “I only want you.”

She leaned back to read his face. There was a flicker in one of his mossy irises, the way he always looked when he was turning something important over in his mind, and for a moment she wondered if it was the answer he’d indeed wanted to hear. It was all she wanted to say to him and that he wanted her back was all she wanted to hear from him.

His silence frightened her but she had to know. She had to. She took a deep breath and asked him. “Do you... want me?”

He shook his head, incredulous. Sitting up, he shifted his body so she was locked between his thighs. He took her hand and laid it against his heart. It was absolutely racing.

“What do you think?”

She nodded. She felt dizzy with euphoria, that this was happening and what was only a dream a few seconds ago was now a reality, transforming before her very eyes. She’d never believed in the paranormal, and just as he’d slowly worked at convincing her of such over the years, this too, perhaps the most improbable, mysterious force of all, was coming to fruition.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

“Terrified,” he laughed. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly, because as long as the truth was coming out she may as well let him hear it all.

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know,” she said. That I don’t know what I’m doing. That this could be a mistake. Of this entire thing, whatever it is, swallowing us whole.

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’m thinking about all the times I’ve been afraid before, all the times I’ve wandered into some dark, scary place… and how knowing you were right there beside me eased my fear.”

She grinned. “Having a flashlight helps.”

Laughing, he nodded, agreeing. ”You’re right.” He let go of her hand, moved both of his own to her face. She could see him studying it, as if he were seeing it anew.

“I believe in us, Scully, wherever we go together,” he said. “I want to believe this thing between us is real, and good, and true.”

She was happy, genuinely happy, and the emotion was so foreign to her she almost felt like crying. He wanted her. This was destiny, something cosmic, she knew it. It was moments like these her faith felt completely justified; in God, in love. In him.

She exhaled, slowly, attempting to control her emotions. “I want to believe that, too.”

He cocked his head, gave her that patented Mulder grin, and rubbed her cheek softly with his thumb. “Then let’s shine a light on this, Scully.”

This time, he leaned, and their second kiss was even better than their first.

[fire-emblem-heroes-supports]

Micaiah/Edelgard C-A Support

Written by @sharyrazade

C SUPPORT

[Edelgard pushes chess pieces across a map in the library.]

Edelgard: If they could have held this bank of the river here…

[Micaiah emerges from behind one of the shelves.]

Micaiah: Excuse me. So sorry to trouble you, but I was searching for someone.

Edelgard: Pay it no mind, it’s no trouble. I don’t believe we’ve met before. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, imperial princess and heir apparent to the Ardrestian Empire.

Micaiah: My name is Micaiah.

Edelgard: Micaiah…that’s an interesting name.

Micaiah: And this is Yune.

[Micaiah extends her finger on which Yune, seeming agitated, is perched.]

Edelgard: Um, hello, Yune.

Yune: [Tweets irritably, pecks Edelgard on the forehead a couple of times, and flies away.]

Edelgard: [massages her forehead] Ow! What was that for?

Micaiah: I am so sorry. She’s never like this. She usually likes everyone.

Edelgard: Well, she’s just a bird. It’s not as though she knows any better.

Micaiah: Again, I’m so sorry- er- What are you doing with that map? This game looks rather complex.

[Edelgard’s expression lights up with understanding.]

Edelgard: Oh, this? I was just wargaming a conflict from our world’s history. A very pivotal one, at that.

Micaiah: Oh? To what end?

Edelgard: The commanders of the vanquished side made many critical errors that lead to our- the empire being dismembered- reduced considerably. I believe that I could have avoided said errors had I been in command.

[Micaiah nods as she follows along.]

Micaiah: It must have been a dreadful time. But your world’s history- and your country’s- sounds absolutely fascinating. If it’s not to much trouble…would you mind telling me more about it?

[Edelgard smiles]

Edelgard: Only if you agree to tell me more about yours.

[Micaiah and Edelgard have reached support rank C.]

B SUPPORT

[Micaiah and Edelgard are conversing in the library.]

Micaiah: …and you must understand that the “plague” had decimated the population of Daein, and the previous king and his family were powerless to stop it. In fact, it took almost all of their lives.

Edelgard: I see…so that’s was part of the motive for the integration of the sub-humans-

[Micaiah uncharacteristically shoots her a dirty look.]

Micaiah: Laguz. The laguz.

Edelgard: Of course. Of the laguz into the king’s worldview.

Micaiah: Yes, but there was another part to it, as well. I’ve already mentioned the…fraught history between the peoples of Tellius. And why Daein first seceded from Bengion. Ashnard…disapproved of such rigid distinctions, in one sense.

Edelgard: This king, Ashnard. He sounds like a very interesting figure. It is not difficult to see how he gained so many devoted followers.

Micaiah: [slightly exasperated] Yes, but you have to understand that-

[Sothe emerges from behind a shelf.]

Sothe: There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Hm? Who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met before.

Micaiah: Sothe, this is my new friend-

Edelgard: Edelgard von Hresvelg, imperial princess and heir apparent to the Ardrestian Empire. I have heard much about you, Sothe. This one speaks quite highly of you. You are…lovers, if I’m not mistaken?

[Sothe stays quiet, giving Edelgard a steely, defensive look.]

Edelgard: Hm. It seems I’ve overstepped my bounds. So Sothe, is it true you are from Daein as well?

Sothe: [still warily] Yes…Daein is my country… But what’s it to you?

Edelgard: I’ve just been interested in hearing accounts from other citizens of Daein.

Sothe: Why is that?

Micaiah: [knowing what a disaster this is going to be] Oh, dear.

Edelgard: A cultured visionary of unparalleled military prowess, your King Ashnard was. He was a strong, determined ruler surrounded by decadent weaklings and fanatics. So why is Micaiah so hesitant to speak about these virtues? If we had an emperor like him-

Sothe: [visibly angry] No, no, no, no, NO! Lady, I don’t care who you are. I wouldn’t care if you were the Goddess herself, if you start wishing your country had a ruler like him, you must be just as twisted as he was. They call him the “Mad King” for several VERY good reasons.

Micaiah: Sothe, please!

Edelgard: He saw a wicked, stagnant system that was holding back everyone- his own people included- and took steps to correct it. From what I’m told, he was ready to either succeed in his aim or die for it. That’s more than I can say for most nobles I’ve known.

Sothe: [hurls Peshkatz into the floor paneling to avoid doing so at Edelgard.] At what cost, you crazy witch?! Taking a course of action he knew damned well would destroy most of our continent- if not the world?! Sending a generation of men to die or be maimed for it?! Performing sick experiments to turn laguz into living weapons?! Tell me, what’s your limit?!

Edelgard: [puts chin in her hand.]: You two have my condolences. To be from a world in such an appalling state that such measures seem worthwhile to enact meaningful change. It must have been agony to even rise from bed every morning.

Sothe: [turns around, picks his knife out of the floor panel and sheaths it.] I’m through with this conversation. I can’t tell you what to do Micaiah, but I’m through with this maniac. Before I do something I’ll regret.

Micaiah: Sothe…

Sothe: And by the way, lady. I’d REALLY love to see you talk this insanity in front of Queen Elincia. Or even better, Commander Ike, King Tibarn, or any of the laguz here. It’d probably be your last mistake.

[Sothe storms from the library.]

Edelgard: I fail to understand exactly what it is you see in him. He’s not unpleasant to look at, but what a rude little urchin.

Micaiah: [sighs]

[Micaiah and Edelgard have reached support rank B.]

A SUPPORT

[Micaiah, reading a book at the bottom of a stairwell, ignoring the commotion in the dining hall where the both Summoner and Anna can be made out to be yelling at several irate, ornery heroes.]

Edelgard: Good evening, Micaiah.

Micaiah: [Looks up, horrified at the scratches and bruises Edelgard has.] My goodness! What happened?! Are you alright?!

Edelgard: Really, they look worse than they actually are.

[Light pools in Micaiah’s fingertips before she touches Edelgard’s face, healing the scrapes and bruises.]

Micaiah: I can’t do anything about your clothing for now, but your wounds are gone.

Edelgard: You have my thanks.

Micaiah: What on earth happened to you?! Did it have something to do with that commotion in the dining hall?

Edelgard: [consciously avoiding making eye contact]: It might.

Micaiah: Oh, dear.

Edelgard: The history of Tellius is just so fascinating to me. I couldn’t NOT take the opportunity to discuss it with the heroes from there, you understand.

Micaiah: What happened exactly?

Edelgard: Well, I sought out this Queen Elincia your friend Sothe spoke so highly of. I thought she would have some interesting thoughts on what makes an effective ruler.

[Micaiah stares blankly at Edelgard, wondering briefly what she could have said to make probably the gentlest hero from Tellius tackle her to the floor and try to claw her eyes out.]

Edelgard: Well, I may have unfavorably compared her father, Ramon, to King Ashnard. The phrase “doddering, impotent old weakling” might have left my lips at some point.

Micaiah: [sighs in exasperation]

Edelgard: But I was truly trying to compare their effectiveness as kings- once I got to that part, she gave me some…less-than-queenly language before jumping on me like a madwoman. This odd, cat-eared woman got involved shortly afterward, and things just degenerated from there.

Micaiah: [wearing an “are-you-completely-daft” look] Perhaps you would do well to keep those opinions to yourself while you’re here. It’s something of a sensitive issue still.

Edelgard: [huffs] If these Tellians are completely incapable of discussing these matters without it devolving into a melee, that is on them, not me. But honestly, King Ashnard is not the most fascinating individual I’ve read about from your world.

Micaiah: [genuinely surprised] Really? Would it be anyone here?

Edelgard: Actually, it is you, the Silver-Haired Maiden, that fascinated me most.

Micaiah: Wait, what? Why?

Edelgard: Because we have many, if not all of the same motives, but when reading about your actions in the order’s library, I was mystified by most of them.

Micaiah: Such as?

Edelgard: Well, first of all, the behavior of those they call Branded, yourself included. Despised and shunned by both of your parent races, yet almost all found themselves in possession of some extraordinary ability or another. So why was there never a mass movement of these Branded to rise up and destroy these oppressors? Or at least take the respect you’re due by virtue of your power?

Micaiah: Hmm…I dealt with a lot of people, “like me,” as it were and even still, I cannot speak for them all. But I always received the impression that they almost always thought such thinking was wrong. At the very least, not constructive to creating a better world for everyone. Stefan, Sir Knight…even Soren…no matter how badly they had been treated, all of them could see how dangerous using that power to take revenge against them would be. I only know of one Branded who even came close to thinking like that and she was mur- fell in battle against the Crimeans.

Edelgard: I cannot say that I am satisfied by that answer, but I respect you enough to cease in second-guessing your decisions. Will you allow me another question, Micaiah?

Micaiah: Perhaps.

Edelgard: Knowing what you know about your country, Daein, and its mother country, Bengion, and being a Branded, why on earth would you continue to be so patient with these people? Were I in your position, I would have likely burned them both to ash and slept like a babe for so doing.

Micaiah: [winces in discomfort at the implications] I can definitely understand why our neighbors- especially the Crimeans- would say otherwise, but Daein is just like Bengion and everywhere else in one sense; you have good, well-meaning people and very bad people. All of us who fought to liberate Daein knew that there were plenty of good, honorable people there- The Apostle, Commander Sigrun, Duke Persis- among them. We would have never succeeded had there not been.

Edelgard: [scoffs] Hmph, her prime minister? He struck me as a weak-willed coward who would rather throw everything into the hands of his goddess and let his world be destroyed. Where’s the honor in that?

Micaiah: [slightly sadly] Not weak by any means, nor a coward. Just very weary and very, very sad.

Edelgard: I thank you for being most accommodating to me. But would you allow me one final question about your history? Especially concerning those “very bad people.”

Micaiah: Yes, I suppose.

Edelgard: So you say that there are good, honorable people everywhere, and that may be true. However, what of when one of those “very bad” people embodying everything wrong with that system comes to power? I am of course, speaking of your Duke Gaddos- Lekain. At what point, do you just decide that your world would be better off burning him- and everything related to him- to the ground? Even with all the trouble he caused, it makes no sense to simply leave the institutions that empowered him standing. They must be obliterated root and branch if true change is to come. And those who stand against these changes should know they do so at their own peril.

Micaiah: I will grant you that every now and again, there are individuals so vile and dangerous that they can no longer be allowed to draw breath. Lekain was one of those men. But to destroy the empire completely? With all of its institutions? I cannot abide that. Not for a single moment. If for no other reason than vast amount of death and suffering that would be the result.

Edelgard: Has there ever been a birth without labor pains? I think not. Nations- and worlds- are no different in that sense. Those who lose their lives in the process of this creation should take solace in the fact that their deaths contributed to something far greater than they could have ever ever been alone.

Micaiah: I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, my friend. My aim is now and has always been the preservation and improvement of the lives of my people. And of all people. It is for that same reason I cannot share in your positive appraisal of Ashnard’s rule.

Edelgard: [crocks her head sideways, cups chin with her thumb and index finger] You truly are the most fascinating woman in Tellius, Silver-Haired Maiden.

[Edelgard proceeds up the stairwell, out of sight. As soon as she is gone, Yune swoops back down to perch on Micaiah’s finger.]

Yune: [tweets happily]

Micaiah: Oh, Yune! Where have you been all this time?

[Micaiah and Edelgard have reached support rank A.]

[caffeinated-yearning]

The Start of Something Awful

@werewolfpine said I should post my writing and I’m doing it because I will literally never post unless someone forces me to, here’s a snippet of the lore of How Doc Ock Comes To Be, featuring my/Ock’s actual mind thought mannerisms. Technically this has only my S/I Oliver and Doctor Octavius a little at the front end, because I do my best work when it’s one character who thinks too much.

Word Count: ~1.4k Warnings: Self-harm (minor), queasiness (minor), astonishingly sarcastic narrator voice

“Hoshino.”

Oliver looks up from the box; as much as people focused on biorobotics, he rather preferred the metal things he’d been working on. None of that confusion of the ‘bio’ aspect. Cold techne and cold metal, a perfect compliment to his frozen heart. Looked up at his teacher- professor, Otto Octavius, and said nothing.

“The test results..?”

Of course! How could he possibly forget the mind-crippling endeavor of writing up a lab report for the sake of his dear professor? It would never pass off as science if he didn’t suffer the hideous toil of turning his experiment into a report; let it be known that the gods themselves would forbid anyone to simply look at the raw data and draw their own conclusions- no, he has to bring their attention to that all himself.

Ability to self-replicate- [Y] Hive mind program- [Y] Formation of simple and complex shapes- [Y] Link to human minds- concept phase. Mobile complex shapes- concept only. Modify macro chemicals within human body- tested in organic slurry, dubious results. Anything else that could be interesting- hasn’t been conceptualized yet.

“Would you call it a success?”

“If it teaches something new, it is a success.”

“Then have you been taught anything?”

Oh, doctor, do not pretend! This is all just a reinvention of the wheel at this point. Smaller and still programmable they may be, but these are all things that have been done before. They were done decades ago, before everyone found biological machinery to hold more promise. What then is there to learn? Humans disagree with metal, that has been the lesson. Oliver answers in so dry a tone; “discussion section: page three. Sir.”

“So I read.” Oliver returns his attention to his robots, still attentive to the good doctor’s words; “you sound irritated- both in the paper and at present.”

It is proper to smile and shake his head, to set the doctor’s concerns to rest. He fails this task, and in the same dry tone; “I’m not. I have concerns that this research is dated at best.”

“Then you are-.”

Interrupting, and how uncharacteristic that was- “I don’t have the time to be emotional, in any event.” The professor seemed off-put by that. Indeed, it was rude of Oliver to interrupt; he makes note of that, and fails to realize that describing himself as necessarily emotionless might instead be the reason for the doctor’s discomfort. Even the good Doctor Octavius had room to be emotional when good or ill fortune struck.

There was a pause, a little too long, before the doctor spoke- he’d turned back only to give a half-question; “I trust that you can be left alone in the lab, Oliver?”

“Yes, Dr. Octavius.” Really, this was such a dumb question. Could Oliver be trusted? Of course not; every faculty member would agree, if they only knew the contents of his mind. Which made it a rather good thing, how very skilled in keeping his thoughts under lock and key he was. Not with his friends of course. With friends you were expected to share a certain amount of information, and in turn they shared meaningless data points that helped one curry good favor if one kept it all in mind. What a fun game that was, sifting through all that data and hoping you came across anything of interest.

Ah. And he was alone. The professor had left without him noticing.

“And if I am consumed by the plague I now set loose upon the earth, thus was my fate since the moment I was born; not God nor Man could stop me or my creations; Pandora, I call upon thee.” He was alone, could he not be dramatic? The box was opened, and the robots did... Absolutely nothing.

Oh good, they hadn’t developed sentience while he acted out his drama.

A scalpel he’d pilfered from his sibling on a recent trip home; it was perhaps not the cleanest, but it would serve to sever, given he’d sharpened it against bricks and stones when he’d had a moment to do so. The only issue now was to shut down his self-preservation instincts, which barely allowed a scratch to be made against himself. But not seeing the place he would cut made easier the act, and he cut into the skin that made up the hair line just behind and below his right ear.

The incision was easier than he’d expected, perhaps because it was so much closer to his dreams’ completion than anything else had been before. He pretends to be surprised by the blood, but to what end? No one is around.

He starts his computer up, watches the robots come to life, and opens up the file “Concept_Phase.chk”. Checkpoint reached, your game will now auto-save, he hums; for the first time he feels the striking chill of fear. He thinks perhaps it is the first time in his life, but knows instinctively this cannot be the case. Either way, one error at this point would be so much more devastating.

They were crawling into that bloodied cut now. He should have worn a different shirt, but at least the black on this one might spare the rest from carrying a stain. They were a horrible itching sensation in his skin- he forces his hand stationary, to meddle now is more threatening. It is most threatening; he does not understand the limits of the human body, but he does understand the delicacy of the brain.

And they are in his brain.

That is the most terrifying part of it all, and he suppresses the urge to vomit. Brains are such delicate things and he has put so many bits of metal into his. He suppresses the urge to stand and run from this horrible thing that he has done. He stays stock still, and feels fear in every muscle and every nerve ending of his body.

And they are in his brain.

He woke up, cold, and pushed himself off the floor. Linoleum or plastic tile- didn’t matter, it was cold. He almost felt annoyance- hadn’t he been doing something? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him to sleep in the lab. The computer lab, maybe, but this wasn’t that.

Oh fuck the robots and the cut- he grasps at his neck, drawing his hand away with the full expectation to pull away half-scabbed gunk, or blood still running. Nothing. He sighed. Maybe it was another dream- maybe he was still dreaming. Dreaming of being something worthy of pride and love, instead of the falsehood he’d built himself into. Of being a worthwhile investment on the part of his parents and friends. Of being something better than this, whatever this was.

Log onto his computer- and how very strange! He’d never run the checkpoint file before, if it was a dream, so why was there a .log version now? It was suddenly beginning to feel very much not like a dream. Uneasiness, like so many maggots in his stomach, seemed to eat at him. He reached up and closed the box that had once been the house of his pride, and scanned over the .log file.

Program terminated successfully.

Oh thank the gods and devils both. It was successful.

But they were in his brain, now. Theoretically, he should be able to interact with them, if all had gone according to plan. He tried not to think about how unsanitary last night’s actions were, or rather to think about that instead of the presence of so much non-biological material now swarming around in his skull. He could feel the crawling- the sensation of parasites under his skin, but how much of that was simply psychological? He couldn’t say.

“Not nearly enough time to run any sort of experiment on them,” he sighed; class would begin soon. Sure, he was already in the building, but still. “How disappointing. How many are left in there?” He finally bothered to stand up and check the box; maybe if he… tried to input commands to those ones? There were still plenty in there; doesn’t take that much metal to make a computer chip inside one’s head then.

They stirred, sluggish and confused. They had never moved of their own accord before... Responsive? Again, move again- and they did. They swayed with little ripples, ocean waves almost.

Link to human minds- [Y].

[the-delta-42]

Shit be True

@nerdasaurus1200 I did it.

Marinette scowled as Chloe sauntered off. It was bad enough that she was behind on the final assignment and Lila was being a pain, but now Chloe had all but bragged about how she managed to get the deadline push forwards a week, meaning that she had to come up with a presentation by Friday, and it was Wednesday. Marinette hoped to set the she-demon on fire as she walked away.

Some people call it fate, when Sabrina all but rushed into the room with the annual Chloe coffee of the afternoon. Marinette paused, before a wide, and somewhat evil-looking, smile appeared on her face. She still had those Laxatives from London.

Perhaps the Queen will have some humility after this.

/*/

Alix sighed as Marinette gathered the girls in their class, as well as some more from other classes, in her room.

“Okay, everyone’s here.” Said Aurore, closing the hatch to Marinette’s room.

“Everyone’s familiar with the Satan incarnate known as Chloe Bourgeois, are they not?” Marinette asked, getting a slight scoff from Kagami.

“Who isn’t.” Said Kagami, eying the pink of the room.

“Well, you are all probably also aware of the deadline that was shunted forward a week.” Said Marinette, as the penny dropped.

“That conniving bitch!”

Everyone looked at Rose, who had three sets of hands over her mouth.

“Rose, sweetie,” Said Juleka, tenderly, “I think be talked about your potty mouth.”

Rose nodded, before Juleka, Mylene and Alya removed their hands.

“You have any other reason for us being here or can we leave?” Kagami asked, her arms folded.

Marinette reached into a draw and pulled out a medicine bag that Kagami recognised easily.

“Are those…?” Kagami asked, looking at the bag.

“Long story short, I gave Adrien a letter that had some jokes on it, but I mixed it up with my grandfather’s prescription and Adrien brought this back instead.” Said Marinette, holding the medication out to the group.

“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait.” Said Alix, getting to her feet, “Are you suggesting that we crush up these tablets and use them to spike Chloe’s food and drink?”

“Pretty much.” Said Marinette, the smile appearing on her face again.

“That sounds great!” Said Alix, “although, lose the smile, you look like a psychopath.”

Marinette pouted, putting the bag down.

“I can already see a problem,” Said Mirelle, getting the groups attention, “we have no idea where Chloe is and when she’s going to be there.”

“That is where you’re wrong.” Said Marinette, pulling out the schedule and pointing to yellow sections, “I keep track of everything my classmates are doing, when they are doing it and who’s with them, just like how I know that Chloe, or rather her parents, is currently playing host to a series of guests and that the catering is being done by my parents and Alya’s mother.”

“We slip in, spike Chloe’s stuff and slip out.” Said Alya, joining Marinette in the evil smile group.

“So, the plan is to spike her food, give her the runs and try not to laugh.” Said Kagami, eyes narrowed, “I’m in.”

There were similar mutterings of helping, before Aurore spoke.

“What if we did it as a gradual thing and made it happen in public event,” Said Aurore, “like in front of the whole school when we have to present our projects.”

“Ooh,” Alya winced, “Social murder of the highest degree.”

“I like it.” Said Rose, getting a pat on the head from Juleka.

“Let’s hope she isn’t wearing white.” Said Alya, as she started to make her exit, “Now, if you excuse me, I have a presentation to do for Friday.”

There were similar mutterings as everyone left, Kagami gave Marinette a once over before she left as well.

/*/

Marinette did her best to look innocent as she located all of the dishes that Chloe used throughout the day. She had told her parents she was going to use the bathroom, before she snuck into the kitchens.

Marinette did find it odd that Chloe had dedicated bowls, plates, cups and lunch boxes for each day of the week, as well as for the different times of the day. Marinette sprinkled the crushed-up laxatives into some water, before she carefully brushed it onto the dishes for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning. Marinette allowed herself to look satisfied as she looked at the dishes that now had the laxatives drying on them. Marinette then took the time to another portion into the coffee, tea and milk that was in the kitchen. Phase one was now complete.

Marinette discreetly left the kitchen and returned to her parents’ side.

“It’s like a maze in here.” Said Marinette, “I’m pretty sure I ended up in a closet at one point.”

Thankfully, some of the other girls were present, Alya helping her mother, Kagami with her parents, Alix, who somehow managed to get in and Rose, who was the guest of Prince Ali. Marinette looked at Rose again, noticing that she looked distressed, coupled with the look of confusion and worry that was on Prince Ali’s face, Marinette had the sinking feeling that Rose had mentioned Lila.

Marinette looked at the others, and raised her little finger up, they nodded, understanding what Marinette meant.

/*/

The second phase was the difficult part, because it required Marinette to intercept Sabrina, somehow get the coffee and/or food off her, add the laxatives and get the items back to Sabrina, all without her noticing. Thankfully, it seemed that Alya and Mylene seemed to be ahead of her.

“Sabrina, thank god we found you,” Said Alya, feigning panic, “I can’t find any of the work for our group, Mylene can’t either!”

“What?!” Sabrina gasped, placing Chloe’s coffee and food on the table and striding over to the computer, allowing Marinette to dash over, lace the drink and food with the laxatives and dash away.

Marinette bumped into Kagami as she moved away from the food and drink, a light brush against Kagami’s wrist was enough to tell her that the second phase was complete.

Now all they had to do was wait.

/*/

Marinette sighed as she got off the stage, finishing her presentation. It wasn’t until yesterday afternoon that the classes were told that they would have to go up in front of the whole school and give their presentation, sure there were rumours, but nothing was confirmed until yesterday. The only upside, for some, was that all classes were cancelled.

Marinette settled into her seat as Chloe took centre stage, Marinette noted the Chloe was wearing white, Marinette didn’t let her mind stray any further. Chloe had looked uncomfortable for the entire morning, looking worried. Marinette looked around, spotting all of the members of the fellowship of murder Chloe Bourgeois.

Chloe was grasping the podium and looked as if she was muttering not now, before she took a deep breath in.

Before Chloe could even get a word out, she sneezed and what sounded like a wet fart also sounded. Marinette had to cover her mouth to prevent herself from laughing.

Chloe had the look of horrified dread, before she could only look down, before shuffling sideways out of the room and then running down the hall.

A moment of silence swept over the school, before someone at the back spoke.

“Did she just…?”

“Shit be true.” Came another voice, before laughter erupted. Marinette was vaguely aware of her falling off her chair and face planting onto the floor. Marinette was also vaguely aware of Kim walking out of the hall to go change his clothes after wetting himself.

Adrien was torn between laughing and being disappointed in Marinette. Although, perhaps this might evoke a change in Chloe, and not just in clothes.

“What a day to be wearing white.” Said a guy to Adrien’s left.

Adrien was disappointed that Lila was absent today, this would’ve been an interesting warning.

/*/

The teachers managed to get the entire year rounded up by the end of the day.

“We know it was one of you that spiked Ms. Bourgeois’ food,” Said One of the deputy heads, “if the culprit doesn’t step forwards now, the entire year will fail and be forced to retake the year.”

Marinette looked down, she should’ve thought about the consequences before she pulled this stunt. Marinette took a deep breath, before she took a step forward. The resulting sound of multiple people stepping forward made Marinette look up.

The entire group had stepped forwards, some people who weren’t even involved in the planning had stepped forward, eventually the entire had take a step forward, with the deputy head went red with rage, he stepped towards the year and glared at all of them.

“Fine,” he sneered, “I’ll make sure all of you repeat the year.”

“No.” Said Adrien, looking at the teacher.

“What?!” The teacher snapped.

“I said no,” Said Adrien, his voice cold, “I am not sure if you are aware, but my father is one of the funders of this school, but if he heard how everyone was punished because of an accident, I am certain he wouldn’t hesitate is retracting the funding and putting towards something more worthwhile.”

“The same can be said about my mother.” Said Kagami, levelling the teacher with her coldest glare, “I am certain she would take great exception to you planned ‘punishment’.”

The teacher met Kagami’s stare, before Marinette phone went off.

“You, answer, speaker.” Said the teacher, not looking away from Kagami.

Marinette took one look at the caller ID, before she did as the teacher said.

“Marinette, little rocker!” Jagged Stone’s voice echoed through the hall, “How’re things?”

“Things are good,” Said Marinette, “Forgive me for being blunt, but I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Said Jagged, “I’m gonna need a jacket made, a Marinette original, I might even pop by your school and give everyone a surprise.”

“I’m on speak, Jagged,” Said Marinette, “and I’m not sure if that’s possible, you coming to the school, someone had an accident and a teacher is trying to pin it on a student.”

There was a moment of silence, before Jagged said, “Oh, that is so uncool. What was the accident?”

“A student shit themselves before they could give a presentation.” Came a voice.

The phone was silent, before Penny’s voice filter out, “Marinette, what was said to Jagged? He’s currently choking on laughter.”

The phrase was repeated, before the phone went silent again. Marinette could vaguely hear the sound of both Jagged and Penny dying of laughter.

“S-sorry,” Gasped Jagged, “but I remember a similar experience, it was very humbling actually.”

The teacher looked as if he was about to pop a vein, he wanted to punish the culprit, but if Damocles found out that a Celebrity passed up visiting the school because of him, he could kiss his job goodbye.

“Fine.” The teacher grit out, stalking out of the room.

“I’ll take the visit up with Principle Damocles, sort out a time and place for the visit.” Said Marinette, “I’ll call you back later to discuss what you want done for the jacket.”

“Cool, rock on, little rocker.” Said Jagged, before hanging up.

“Well, that went well.” Said Alya, as Marinette put her phone away.

“Yeah.” Said Marinette, as an Akuma went past.

“Chloe or the teacher?” A random student asked.

Teacher was the most popular reply.

/*/

“I bet Marinette would wish death on people.” Said Lila, as she tried to spin a tale, not noticing that the Class didn’t seem enamoured with her. It had been a month since the incident, and Chloe seemed to have improved.

“Oh, no,” Said Marinette, her voice going level, detached and deathly calm, “I would never wish death upon someone. I’d just wish they had explosive diaharrea and they have to give a speech and they sneeze at the start.”

Lila slowly backed away, “Is that what you do to your enemies?”

“Only the ones that cross me.” Marinette replied.

There was a moment of silence, before Chloe slammed her hands on her desk and jumped to her feet.

“THAT WAS YOU?!”

[bigskydreaming]

Um... /post/188248925631/dick-and-damian-dont-love-each-other-more-than Explain, please. Also curious about your opinion on the Dick and Damian being the mirror of Bruce and Dick, especially things like That scene in Nightwing #20 and fanon's heart nut material that is Dick being Damian's father figure along with brother.

LOL that was a goof post that basically is just another way of me saying “stop making the Batkids have favorites, let them all love and appreciate each other just in different ways.” With the fact that Dick and Damian tend to interact with each other more comfortably than with their other siblings not being proof of favoritism, but rather just...a lot of the same things and experiences appeal to them in very similar ways, so they have plenty of available bonding activities at any given moment. 

Like I see them both as adrenaline junkies in a way that say, Tim perhaps isn’t....like Tim isn’t afraid to do any of the things he does as a vigilante, of course, but he’s a more cerebral character, more of a thinker, happy surrounded by computers and data and investigation files as much as anything else...whereas Dick and Damian I both see as very physically oriented people, they like action, danger and excitement that gets their blood pumping and adrenaline going, like....on its own merits. 

So they’re like “HELL YEAH, LET’S DO THE THING” when the thing isn’t always the most....logical course of action, but hey, at least they’re not gonna be bored, lol. Y’know?

As far as Dick and Damian mirroring Bruce and Dick....I both agree and disagree with it.

I disagree in the sense that canon and fanon frequently views them as an INVERTED mirror of Bruce and Dick, with Dick as the happy Batman trying to cheer up the brooding Robin Damian, as opposed to when Bruce was the brooding Batman cheered up by his happy Robin Dick.

Because I think that devalues Bruce and Dick’s VERY early relationship, the inception of it, the foundation of their bond....and perhaps ironic given how critical I am of Bruce and his badly written or acted upon parenting a lot of the time....I think this perception of Bruce and Dick undercuts some of Bruce’s BEST times as a parent to Dick, specifically.

Because Bruce WASN’T just a dark, brooding Batman for most of the time Dick was Robin, historically speaking. Before the late 70s/early 80s, which was also around the time they started transitioning Dick out of Batman’s sphere and into his own role as Nightwing and most associated with the Titans, like....before all that, Batman tended to be as silly, tongue in cheek, and yes, even cheerful, as he was at times dark and brooding. Like, in pre-Flashpoint stories that trace back to Dick’s early years, Bruce SMILED, even when in the cowl. He laughed, he joked, he called Dick by personal endearments. He was PATERNAL and affectionate.

And given that in pretty much every version of his origin story, and like....in logical view of the events that unfolded in it....Dick himself did not START as a cheerful, happy go lucky Robin without a care in the world. He was traumatized, he was grieving. Depending on which origin you go with, he had massive trust issues, in all origins he has abandonment issues....early Dick Grayson had a darkness every bit as much as anyone else, because he was a lost and grieving child trying to find his way in the world with his usual support, lifeline, the familiarity that had defined so much of his early life in the form of his parents, his friends, his circus....like all of that was gone, and he had to start over in terms of finding things good and worthwhile in a world that had taken all of that away from him.

And it was Bruce who helped him do that. Who was HIS light, HIS brightness every bit as much as people tend to credit Dick with being his, if not more. Like, I would argue that it was NEVER that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by simply being himself and always being cheerful and joking. More accurately, I’d suggest that it was more that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by giving him reason to make a conscious CHOICE to be those things...for Dick’s benefit, specifically, so as to help steer Dick away from becoming a replica of his darkest and most brooding self, by setting a more carefree, light-hearted example for Dick to look at and use to help decide how he wanted to shape himself and what he wanted to shape himself into.

So the irony is, I think Dick and Damian are MORE of a mirror to early Bruce and Dick than people actually deem them to be. That they weren’t actually an inverted mirror, with Dick always playing the role of the cheerful inspiration that brightened his counterpart’s demeanor. I see it as Dick occupying the exact same role Bruce did in Damian’s life, leading him by example, out of his own personal darkness, the way Bruce had once done for him...no matter what differences came between them later in life.

The part where I DO think they’re actually an inverted mirror of Bruce and Dick, is in the paternal bond between Dick and Damian, that fandom highlights so consciously. Its not that Bruce wasn’t paternal, as I said earlier. Its more that like....there was always that slight distance or buffer (that grew as Dick grew older) that came about because of the uncertainty between Dick and Bruce as to what they actually were to each other, what label to use for each other....friend, brother, partner, father/son? And I do firmly believe that as the adult and guardian, it was Bruce’s responsibility to take the lead in establishing what they were to each other...or at least, what they COULD be, if Dick wanted it to be.

Like, I mean, the popular take is that Bruce never adopted Dick as a kid because he didn’t want to replace Dick’s father in his eyes. But like, there’s all of one story in pretty much their entire history when Dick ACTUALLY says anything like that himself...and its back when he’s like, ten or eleven, and they’re trying to keep him in Bruce’s custody and so like, a judge is forcing ten year old Dick to like....put a label to them himself. And Dick is many things, but presumptuous on his own behalf has NEVER been one of them, so I have super negative feelings towards that always being pointed at as why Bruce didn’t adopt Dick as a kid and saying see, it was for Dick’s benefit because he was just doing what Dick wanted....like, no. An orphaned kid who lost everything once, has massive abandonment issues, and ended up taken in by a billionaire who gave him more than he could have imagined....like that kid is NEVER going to be the one to push the envelope and say “hey this isn’t quite enough for me, could you please also adopt me, Bruce, even though you’ve never given me any clear indication that this was okay with you or something you even wanted?”

Like. Its just not realistic. Or fair to put that on the kid, to be the one to open up that avenue for exploration. This is why people who foster or adopt older kids are HEAVILY stressed to make clear to the child like....what their OPTIONS are. Like if they foster them initially, its not presuming anything about the child’s wants to just....make it clear that hey, if this is ever something YOU want, we would be very much open to adopting you and changing our dynamic accordingly, but if not, that’s fine too.

Kids just aren’t going to have the confidence to ASK for that. They’re just not. Especially when they come into the relationship with the kind of emotional baggage and familiarity with total upheaval that Dick had.

So my point being....I don’t think it was ever truly that Dick wanted to not be adopted, or expressed or hinted at that in any way. I think its more likely that Bruce projected his own wants on Dick, based on the fact that he initially identified with him and his circumstances so much, seeing himself reflected in Dick’s tragedy when losing his own parents. I think Bruce’s hesitancy to raise the issue of adoption when Dick was a kid was far more likely to do Bruce assuming Dick wouldn’t want that....because Bruce projected himself into DICK’S shoes, and based on THAT, operated off of what HE would have wanted as a kid....which was to NOT see his parents replaced in any real way, even though Alfred of course was very much a paternal presence throughout his later childhood.

So its not even that Bruce didn’t want to adopt Dick either - I think he very much did. He just told himself that Dick wouldn’t possibly want that, because Bruce couldn’t imagine have wanted that himself when he was Dick’s age, in Dick’s situation. And so Bruce held back from ever really raising it while Dick was a kid, because he was afraid he’d only get rejected if he did....again, just based purely on his personal assumptions and history.

The irony, for me, and why I see this as an inverted mirror to Dick and Damian’s bond....is that I think once Dick was in Bruce’s shoes....he did the EXACT SAME THING BRUCE HAD DONE....just in the other direction. He, just like Bruce had with him...projected himself into Damian’s shoes, and based his decisions off his assumptions about what Damian wanted or would want....which were in turn, based on his memories of what HE had wanted when he was the one in Damian’s position. Which was for Bruce to fully act like a father to him, to not hold back or hesitate or be afraid to step into that role.

So because of that, Dick tried to avoid what he saw as responsible for so much of the distance between him and Bruce - that hesitancy to establish a clear relationship and bond that left no real doubt how either felt - and so he in contrast all but threw himself into the paternal role with Damian...also using it at the same time to hide from his own grief and other issues stemming from Bruce’s death as well as having to be Batman. He EMBRACED being there and available as an actual father figure to Damian, if Damian made moves in that direction - which of course Damian inevitably did, because he was a kid desperately in need of affection, and here Dick was offering it freely and openly.

I think this additionally played into why Dick was so resistant to believing Tim about Bruce - it wasn’t that he didn’t WANT Bruce to be alive or that he didn’t trust Tim or WANT Tim to be right....it was that on some level, because of what he saw as so crucial to being for Damian’s benefit, and to avoiding making the same ‘mistakes’ with Damian that he felt Bruce had made by holding himself back from him at times, emotionally....Dick couldn’t afford to see himself as a placeholder in Damian’s life. Especially not without any guarantees that Bruce actually was alive or could come back....let alone how long that would take to happen. If he did that, accepted that, it would be all to easy to put off establishing that firm presence and role in Damian’s eyes for longer and longer....until one day he might look up and years might have passed and Damian was sixteen and pissed off and moving out because he didn’t know what he was to Dick and Dick was afraid to tell him, because he was afraid of replacing Bruce in Damian’s eyes.

So I think on some level, Dick just couldn’t allow himself to believe Bruce might come back, because if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to commit to what he truly, honestly felt Damian needed him to be, for Damian’s sake.

With the end result being that strong father/son seeming bond between them....and Dick not having ANY clue how to handle it when Bruce DID ultimately come back, and he probably went in his head....oh shit, I fucked up, I replaced Bruce in Damian’s eyes, or at least made it weird or difficult for them...I gotta get 1000 miles away from here STAT, otherwise I’ll fuck things up for them more and they’ll never have the father/son relationship I want them to have and they deserve to have, and it’ll be all my fault. And PS no this does not have anything to do with my devastation that I went all in on this whole ‘treating Damian like my own son’ thing and now I can’t do that anymore, I have no real claim, that’s not my place and I gotta just make my peace with Bruce occupying the role I came to want and love having myself.

*Shrugs* So yeah. All of that.

Oh and also....it does feed my ire on the ‘treating Dick like he’s only sorta Bruce’s son because of the smaller age gap between Dick and Bruce and how young Bruce was when he took Dick in’ front. Because Dick and Damian have just as small an age gap and Dick was pretty much just as young and Damian just as old as Bruce and Dick had been, originally...

And yet notice how fandom has NO trouble characterizing Dick and Damian having an almost father/son dynamic even WITH Bruce still present and even WITH them only having occupied those roles in each other’s lives for a year.

But meanwhile, Dick raised solely by Bruce from ages 8 through the end of his childhood, and some people still can’t wrap their heads around how they could possibly be TRULY a father and son to each other because this reason or that one?

Meh. Sounds fake. Hard pass. LOL.

[stupidnephilimlove]

Office Hours P16

I guess it’s been a while... @irisphryneadler @kindaresilient @ifthingsgetcrazy @shiningalec in case you’re still following this.  Read on ao3.  Or start at the beginning.

Alec stares up at the ceiling; the same ceiling he’s been gazing at for the past few hours. He twists his head in the dark and gropes for his phone on the nightstand. The screen illuminates the room as he checks the time.

03:12

Seriously? It’s been a grand total of seven minutes since the last time he checked.

Alec sighs in resignation and throws back the covers. He’s not getting any sleep tonight so he might as well just deal with it. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Cat’s face, he hears Cat’s words and their earlier meeting just plays on repeat through his mind. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the more he thinks about it, the more doubts he has as to the reasons behind her offer. Could she actually mean it?

He’s obsessing. He knows he is. He also knows that it’s ridiculous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he keeps doing it. It’s gotten to the point that he can’t remember what his actual responses were because he’s come up with so many better ones. He’s beginning to annoy himself.

He supposes that it makes a change from his obsession with Magnus being the thing that keeps him up at night.

Alec switches on the bedside lamp, the sudden brightness making him squint. It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, but when they do, they focus on the small card propped up against a book next to the lamp. Epolatary.

Alec reaches out for the card. He’s allowing himself to toy with the idea, with the possibility that he could do this. Alec worries his lip. He could look it up, right? That couldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t be like signing a contract or anything. It’s just research; just having all the information to make a decision. At least, that’s the logic that has him booting up his computer.

Alec grabs a t-shirt and sweats and sits down at his desk. The card is still in his hand, and he idly brushes the tip of a finger along the edge of it. His eyes are so focused on the few words elegantly written on it, that it takes him a while to realise his computer has loaded.

Alec navigates to the internship listing on their website. His eyes scan back and forth across the screen as he reads the description, the requirements, the benefits. The further he gets, the quicker his heart beats. It’s good. Actually… it’s pretty fucking perfect. And that’s exactly what’s worrying him - it all seems just a little too good to be true. Things like this don’t just happen to Alexander Gideon Lightwood. That’s just not the way the world works. He’s long since accepted that world pretty much likes to shit on him at any given opportunity. So why should this be any different?

Alec scans the page again. Just to be sure. This whole idea of what he wants to do is so new to him that he hasn’t spent a great deal of thought on how to go about getting a job, or what he specifically wants to do. But from the little he knows, this looks like a well-structured program. It covers the full spectrum: from editorial work to production and marketing. It’s clear the internship is designed to give experience and knowledge in each area of the production house. It seems like the perfect platform to build a career.

Career.

Fuck.

That’s like... adulting. That’s serious adulting. It’s perhaps the first time Alec realises that. Sure, he might have moved out of his parents’ place - not much choice there if he wanted to keep his sanity - and he’s worked to pay the bills. But this is the next step. The big step. A part of him just wants to crawl under the covers and sleep this whole crazy idea off. It will come to nothing, so why bother anyway. But another part of him, the reckless or hopeful part of him, says to just go the hell for it.

Alec’s reached the bottom of the page for the second time, and his cursor hovers over the application page link. Just click it, the crazy voice in his head whispers. And why not? Just like reading about the internship, he can look without applying. So to hell with it.

The questions seem pretty straightforward and Alec finds himself formulating answers to them before he realises what he’s doing. Shit. This wasn’t the plan. He sighs again and closes the page. Best not to move too quickly. Perhaps he’ll take up Cat’s offer to look around before he rushes into anything. Plus, then he can be sure Cat really meant it and not as some weird favour to Magnus or something. 

Alec grabs his phone before he’s reminded of the time. It’s probably not a good idea to phone Cat in the middle of the night. Instead, he opens his email and quickly types. Sure, an email at 03:37 might be a little weird, but if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll end up talking himself out of it.

Alec tries to stifle a yawn as the email sends. He fails and shutting down his computer he wonders if he can finally grab a few hours of sleep. Alec gets into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and his mind once again replays the day. This time, however, he focuses on a certain professor’s ass and how damn good it had looked.

-

Alec freezes on the threshold to Magnus’ office, the same way he does every time he walks in this room. The first glimpse of Magnus always has his breath catching in his chest and his heart beating a crazy rhythm and today is no exception. Magnus’ body is stretched over the desk, possibly reaching for something, but Alec’s brain not working clearly enough to make the connection. Of course, Magnus is wearing those trademark dark, fitted trousers. The way his body angles, straining, arm outstretched… well, the material is somehow tighter. Which Alec didn’t think was physically possible.

Hot Damn. Alec pulls at his collar. It suddenly got really hot in here, just out of nowhere. He refrains from fanning himself and clearing his throat he walks through the doorway.

Magnus pulls back immediately at the noise, head turning, body lithely moving to stand at full height. If Alec was caught off guard by his initial look at Magnus, he has no defence for the onslaught of emotions that sucker-punch him when Magnus looks at him directly. There’s that bright, wide smile that’s always so fucking welcoming. How can something as simple as a smile just make everything right in Alec’s world? Shit. He’s being dramatic again.

Alec tries to shake it off. He isn’t helped by Magnus’ greeting of, “Alexander.” God. Alec’s missed the way Magnus utters those four syllables. It’s silly, but it feels like their thing. The only person who calls him by his full name is his mother, and that’s only when she disagrees or disapproves. Magnus just says it in a way that’s so utterly inviting. He always gets that same feeling as when he comes home from a really shitty day or really long trip. Hmm… It’s comforting.

“Hey,” Alec replies, and he doesn’t even try to hide his dopey grin. It feels somewhat awkward. They haven’t spoken that much in person since they started texting over Christmas break and Alec’s trying to work out what this new dynamic is. He’s distracted - of course - by Magnus’ new hairstyle. He’s only just noticing the red highlights have been replaced with white.

“I like your hair,” Alec says. The words just tumble out. He was only thinking them and somehow his brain forgot to tell his mouth to shut the hell up. 

Magnus’ eyebrows raise and he raises his hand to brush past the now white-streaked strands. “Thank you.”

The uncharacteristic self-conscious gesture only lasts a moment. Magnus twirls his hands, lifts his chin, and declares, “New year, new look.”

“How was your Christmas?” Alec asks. He can’t remember if he asked Magnus when they saw each other last week. 

Magnus drags his chair around the desk the same way he did all last semester and Alec takes his cue to take a seat.

“It was great actually. Though it’s nice to get back into a routine.”

Alec hums in agreement.

“How was yours?”

“It was…” Alec starts, pausing to decide what his break was. With most people, he’d have said great, or okay, but with Magnus, he gets this overwhelming need to tell the truth. “...mixed,” he eventually settles on. He can’t really think of another way to describe it. The family dinners and ridiculous cocktail parties had been a complete nightmare. His mother pushing women in his path and chastising Isabelle on her choice of outfit had been irritating. But chasing Max in the yard, making up stories with Max in the treehouse and tickling him until they were both out of breath from laughing had made it all worthwhile.

“How so?” Magnus asks.

“Just… some family drama,” Alec reluctantly explains. He doesn’t really want to subject Magnus to the craziness of his parents. “But I got to spend a lot of time with my brother, Max, so that was great.”

Magnus is frowning. “Families. Well… they can be difficult.”

“I emailed Cat.” Alec just throws the sentence out there, needing to change the subject.

The words have Magnus beaming again. How Alec wants to keep that expression, be the reason for that expression for eternity. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s going to show me around next week.” Alec’s nervous and excited about it, but he knows he's only feeling that way because he’s realising he’s getting pretty invested in the possibilities.

“You’ll love it. Now, I know I’m a little biased,” Magnus says with a chuckle and Alec can’t believe it’s been weeks since he’s heard that sound. “But I adore the place.”

Alec knows it probably has more to do with adoring the person the place revolves around. 

As conversations go, theirs continues in the same ordinary, pretty inconsequential way it always does, but Alec wouldn’t be anywhere else. Magnus continues to talk about Cat and Alec listens rapturously to stories of the two of them. It’s become pretty clear that Cat and Magnus are very close and every opportunity Magnus has to talk about Cat, his love for her is clear. It’s not just the words Magnus uses; it’s the way Magnus says them, the way his gestures get a little more energetic like he can’t hold back his enthusiasm for her. 

I love this. Alec thinks. I love…

A wave of panic hits him and he stops himself from finishing that thought. Fuck. He’s in trouble. He’s in serious trouble.

He’s been telling himself this thing for Magnus is no big deal. A spark of attraction. A little crush. The more-than crush. And now? Sitting in Magnus’ office, watching Magnus’ fingers intricately dance in the air, listening to Magnus’ full-body laugh, head thrown back, Alec has to admit he’s falling for Magnus.

Though they haven’t seen each other for weeks, they’ve texted at least every other day. Their conversation is always filled with things from their daily lives and Alec’s learnt so much more about Magnus since they last saw each other.

He knew Magnus was patient and kind, but Magnus’ description of buying Madzie a tutu for Christmas only to have to buy one for himself so they could have princess tea parties together has shown Alec just how much. That knowledge has combined with this insane attraction and Alec’s in stage one of freaking out.

“How are things with Aldertree?” Magnus asks, pulling Alec from his near meltdown.

Alec scratches his neck and tries to collect his thoughts. “Pretty much the same.”

He’s thankful their conversation veers into less personal topics. His small panic is actually more of a big panic.

And through it all, Alec’s really pissed that Izzy and Jace were right.

He’s in love with his professor. And there goes the universe again; screwing Alec over.

[drawlfoy]

A Short Meeting

pairing: draco x pansy

request: yes! thank you to anon for sending it in :)

warnings: just mentions of war/fighting/minimal gore. i’m not all that into blood so i’ll keep it light if i put any mention in

a/n: i took a few liberties with the canon to write this one. but also i just got in a car crash so i’m kind of shaky so i apologize for any spelling mistakes

music recs: i was listening to insomnia by iamx

summary: i don’t want to give too much away but basically pansy is in a pinch during the war and a certain someone appears

word count: 1,343

Pansy couldn’t tell you how long she’d been hiding out where she was. She had tried to run to the Slytherin common room like Snape had instructed them to, but somehow she’d been split away from the group. With all the adrenaline rushing through her body, she ran right past the corridor leading to the dorms, and it was far too late to turn back now. She could hear the shouts and the spells being fired near the turn she was supposed to take. The chaos was only growing closer.

Keep going, keep going. If either side finds you, you’re dead for.

At first glance, the pureblood girl should’ve sided with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but her family had deserted last minute by jumping countries and decided that she’d be safe at Hogwarts while they took their extended vacation in...New York? Sydney? For some reason she thought they might’ve taken a quick stop in South Africa along the way, but she couldn’t be sure.

Regardless, no one liked her. To the Death Eaters, her name carried weakness and treachery. To the Order, she was a coward and a bigot. Both seemed to forget who she really was: a very lost, very betrayed 17 year old girl who just wanted her family back. 

But then again, no one wanted to take the time to psychoanalyze Pansy Parkinson. She’d already been pigeon-holed and it was so much more worthwhile to guess how many freckles Harry Potter had on his right ass cheek. Or how Bellatrix took her tea, whichever side one fancied the most.

The commotion was growing nearer and Pansy was being slower. She couldn’t keep running for much longer.

Thankfully, she spotted a broom closet just off to her right, just begging to be used as a hiding spot. She exhaled a grateful breath before yanking the door open and piling objects on top of her.

Maybe they’re right she mused. Maybe I am a coward, hiding under a pile of household objects instead of going out there and fighting for what I believe in.

She cast these thoughts away. How could she fight for a side when both of them hated her? And regardless, she was alive. That’s all that mattered, after all. Maybe afterwards she could owl her family and join them in their exclusive penthouse or beach house or whatever they were living the pampered life in.

Pansy allowed herself to be taken away by all of these daydreams of life after the war, riding each fleeting thought like one would surf a wave. 

Yes, a wave in Hawaii she thought dreamily. Perhaps Mother and Father are there.

She thought that perhaps the war had stopped once the chaos had quieted down, but she knew better than to leave her spot. The war had probably moved to another part of the castle, but even so, there could still be people rounding up scragglers. And she was safe, so safe, in her cozy little broom closet. She felt an odd vibe of immortality, tucked away with random items covering her from view. It felt like she was a little girl again who was afraid of the dark, pulling blankets over her head and feeling invincible in her cocoon of softness.

This security only lasted for another few seconds, though. The broom closet handle was ripped open violently and someone else stepped in, casting a quick lumos and peering around.

Pansy couldn’t believe her eyes. She hadn’t seen him since the middle of the previous school year. It had been over a year. 

The time did not treat Draco Malfoy well. She had never seen his platinum hair so unkempt and ruffled and his face so dirty. 

“Pansy?” His voice, though hushed, was full of alarm. “Why aren’t you in the dorms?”

“Dunno.” It seemed like a rather trivial question. Did it matter why she wasn’t there? She was here. And that was that. “I generally prefer private rooms when I’m hiding from a war.”

If he had found that funny, he didn’t show it.

“It’s dangerous here. You need to get out.” His face was just as stone cold as she remembered, but  as she looked into his eyes, she noticed a glimmer of fear.

“And go where, Draco?” she asked incredulously. “My house? That’s currently being used to hold your prisoners? Or the Dining Hall, perhaps? The one that’s already blown to bits? Or to my parents? Whose whereabouts I’m not even aware of anymore?”

“Oh.” Draco’s eyes widened. “I thought you knew...where.”

“No.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments. The memories of Pansy’s shameless attempts at flirting made a reappearance. The most recent had been when she was 16--just a year before--when she’d instructed Draco to lay his head in her lap and carded her fingers through his fine hair.

So embarrassing. He was so clearly never interested. How could she’ve been so naive to chase after boy that never cared about her anyways?

“I’m sorry about that,” he finally told her.

“So what now?” She pushed. “You’re gonna take me to your fellow Death Eaters? Let them see how cowardly I am, hiding away in a closet like this?”

He winced at the term “death eater”. 

“No.” 

The silence embraced them again, just as awkward as before.

“I am sorry, you know.” 

Pansy jumped at the sudden tone change. Draco sounded...remorseful, something  she’d never expected from him.

“For what?”

“For leading you on for...I don’t even know how many years,” he muttered, passing his wand back and forth from both hands, causing the light omitted from it to shake. “That was pretty shit of me.”

“I should’ve stopped trying,” Pansy confided in him. “I knew you didn’t care. It was just so hard to leave you alone.”

The silence returned, much more comfortable this time. Pansy never thought she’d be here--sitting in a broom closet with a Death Eater in the middle of a raging battle.

“Come here.” Draco’s voice came off as surprisingly strong, and she looked up to see him motioning to her with his free hand. 

“Why?”

“I have some things to make up to you.” 

Once Pansy had scooted over to his side of the closet, he distinguished his wand--even though it didn’t really look like his wand, now that Pansy was looking closer--and set it on the floor next to them. He adjusted to sit cross legged.

“Put your head here.” He pointed to his lap while Pansy squinted to see exactly where.

He couldn’t be serious. 

Slowly, she lowered her head down, letting it settle in between his crossed legs. She felt his hands encapsulate her head, his fingers stroking her hair in a fashion very similar to what she did.

“What’s gonna happen to us, Draco?” Her voice didn’t sound like hers.

“I don’t know. You should find your parents and get out as soon as you can. As for me....” Draco paused, his hands stopping as well. “We’ll just have to see what happens.”

Pansy accepted the weak answer, shutting her eyes and just enjoying the moment as it came.

“This is the last time, isn’t it?” Pansy asked. She already knew the answer. “I mean, for the two of us?”

Draco was quiet for a few moments before answering.

“Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a while. Pansy wanted to believe that he was doing this out of desire, but she had a feeling that this was just to settle the guilt inside of him. He was paying his dues.

Yells began to sound outside again, accompanied by screaming and blasts. Draco exhaled sadly, running his fingers through Pansy’s hair one more time.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Okay.”

He stood up awkwardly, brushing off his pant legs and retrieving his wand from the ground. Before he opened the door, he turned back and caught Pansy’s eyes one more time. 

“Stay safe, Pans.” 

With that, he stepped out and shut the door behind her, leaving her alone with the knowledge that she’d never see him again.

[ohhdarlings]

𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓅𝓅 ( eliza scanlen. cisfem , she/her, candy store + heathers the musical.) i heard CHARLOTTE CALHOUN singing the other night, though it didn’t sound like english… it’s so admirable that someone who’s only 25 can sing latin so fluently! heard they hang out with those NOCTIS, that must be because they’re PRESS SECRETARY at US SENATE. i always see them going home to MANHATTAN by LYFT under the moonlit night. (gracie, 24, she/her,EST) hi there here is the first of my babies with a bio down below. like this and i will come bother you for plots! or slide into my dms Judge & Mrs. Calhoun were childless, though not from lack of trying. They’d given up, though, grown older and focused on careers and the Charleston high society, when the knock came in the night. It was too early in the season for a hurricane, but the rain and wind pounded the historic house on the battery regardless. It was a miracle, they would later say, that they could hear the knock at all else the baby left on the porch might not have made it through the night. Using their considerable assets and influence to speed up the adoption process and gloss over the less than orthodox method with which she came into their life, Charlotte Elisabeth Calhoun came into being. WIth a father on the US Court and an adoring, if not a bit overbearing, mother, Charlotte grew up with everything a girl could want. The golden princess, miracle child, a gift from the angels– stuff like this could go to a girl’s head. But she was polite and charming, all blonde curls and colorful bows, meticulously dressed in pastels, the darling of the country club set. She was smart (something the Calhouns privately worried over, not knowing her lineage) if not a bit obsessive and idealistic, but they’d long ago accepted a child of unknown origins would have some quirks. She was a generally pleasant child, if you don’t count the outbursts and strange occurrences that tended to happen when she did not get her way. All of the windows of the downstairs burst at once when a ten year old Charlotte was not permitted to stay the night out. The maid was utterly perplexed by the shards of mirror stuck into the ceiling in a perfect circle, but it was more than the job was worth to question. Her nose always bled before a hurricane hit, and all of the flowers in the yard died overnight when Charlotte battled a particularly rough bout of flu. People had a tendency to do as she asked, and whether that was due to natural charm, a talent for manipulation, or perhaps something supernatural, she did not know. And no one mentions that time in ninth grade when they decided to play with the ouija board. Really they should have known better, living in the middle of one of the most haunted cities in the south, but Charlotte’s friends always regarded her with a bit more fear after that. She skated through high school- prom queen, queen bee, and less than a tenth of a GPA point from valedictorian. Then surprised everyone by choosing Columbia over a variety of much closer schools. Maybe she wanted to get away from her overbearing mother, or maybe something about New York called to the part of her she’d never been able to explain, but she went gladly and quickly. The City was a dream and she adored the way other students viewed her as something new and exciting. Charming with the soft southern drawl making her sound like she was in a film from the 1950s, Charlotte soaked in the attention and the way people seemed to underestimate her. Being away from her mother brought out a subtle sort of cruelty shown through sharp glances and cutting remarks delivered with a poisonous smile. The manipulation and charm got her what she wanted, and the mean streak kept her at the top. Still, it was easy, so it must be natural. She never guessed there might be another reason behind this, and comfortably clung to rose colored glasses and her idealism. Four years and two terms as president of her sorority later, she graduated from the journalism school with a concentration in politics. Charlotte found a job in communications for a congressional race, but the candidate was so bland she didn’t entirely care if they won or not. Next cycle, she pledged herself, she’d find someone worthwhile. She got far more than she bargained for. He was young and inspired, she felt an instant connection and in her interview he looked at her like he could tell her the reason for all of her secrets. Jameson Leroy ran an insurgent campaign for senate, underestimated and dismissed by the big players, and Charlotte was his press secretary. There was something off though. Donations seemed to come in from nowhere and the polling numbers never quite added up. But they were playing in a race thought to be a lock, and she was a natural with the press so she never questioned it. They were preparing for the first debate, and he’d sent the rest of the team home at midnight. Perhaps it was a heady combination of adderall, caffeine, and exhaustion or maybe she was hallucinating, but something seemed to spark between them. Charlotte had long ago decided she would not be a monica, would not throw away any chance and slip to her knees at the will of a handsome face. Face slightly flushed, she had nearly made her exit when the door slammed in front of her seemingly of its own accord. The lights flickered, and she turned slowly to face her boss. Now she had to be hallucinating, the desk couldn’t possibly be in flames, he couldn’t possibly be looking at her like this was normal. You’re just like me, he said, you know you are. You can stop it, Charlie, you know how. Just let yourself feel it. She shook her head violently, panic seizing in her chest. No, it wasn’t happening, she would wake up and everything would be fine. The fire edged closer and her feet seemed almost cemented to the floor. He kept pushing, his voice steady and seductive, the fire moved faster, she could feel the heat oppressively close, too close. And then all the glass in the office shattered at once, the fire was gone and Jameson was smiling at her. And just like that, Charlotte had an answer for every strange occurrence of her childhood that her parents painfully overlooked, the reason she seemed always to get her way, and it felt like she was breathing freely for the first time. He took her under his wing, teaching and sculpting, filling Charlotte’s idealistic mind with whispers of all they could achieve with this power. She was instantly hooked. Dark Magic, he told her, is not inherently bad just far more powerful, and clearly it was what her talents were suited towards. They won the race, and even though she knew exactly what he’d done to do so, it did nothing to cloud her idealism. TL/DR: charlotte is basically heather chandler plus cj cregg and stockard channing in practical magic. a mean girl, but also a proper lady who wouldn’t be caught dead without lipstick. Wanted Connections: friends, lovers, political enemies, people she’s been a bitch too, light magic witches and other dark magic witches. Also maybe like if ya want a long lost witch daughter HMU

[humansofhds]

Edwin Alanís-García, MTS ’19

“Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others.”

Edwin is an MTS ‘19 candidate studying philosophy and religion and a writer of poetry and fiction.

Learning to Know

I’m from a small town about an hour-and-a-half outside of Chicago. It’s part of the suburbs, but it is on the edge, so it's very rural. The road leading up to my parents' house is just off the interstate and it's mostly surrounded by cornfields and soybean fields and farm houses. It’s a small and not very diverse town. Population of about 5,000. When we were growing up it was predominately white—about 99 percent white. Our family was part of the other one percent. But we were all working class, that was the one thing in common.

Both of my parents are from rural Mexico. My dad first came to the U.S. as a kid, as a migrant farm worker, and then as a young man living in New York he learned how to weld. In Mexico my mom worked as a receptionist and as a cashier at a grocery store. My dad's training led him to become a union pipe fitter/welder. It was a grueling and dangerous job, but it was extraordinarily well-paying for an immigrant. That's what enabled our family to live very comfortably.

In coming here, I think my family was trying to leave their old world behind. And it wasn't a bad world they were leaving, at least in comparison to small-town Illinois. But one side effect was that it was very isolating to be in America. Our household is like taking a slice out of rural Northern Mexico and dropping it in the middle of small-town Illinois. We couldn't assimilate well, which I'm rather grateful for despite its drawbacks. There's a trope in many immigrant narratives that the first generation kid has trouble learning English. For me it was the opposite.

I started to teach myself how to read when I was around three years old. No one thought there was anything strange about it. It wasn’t until recently that I realized it was unusual. It eventually became one of the many reasons I've always felt like an outsider. One of my most important memories from elementary school was being asked to sit in the corner during recess because I was the only kid who did our first writing assignment correctly. The teacher had to redo the lesson for everyone else. It wasn’t a punishment, but it sure felt like it.

Even the way I speak, when I tell people where I’m from, they say they can’t hear a Chicago accent. I think it has to do with the way I acquired language, which was mostly through an old dictionary and an encyclopedia set my parents got from a grocery store. There was nothing else to do in our town, so I just stayed inside and read. Evidently that did something—for better and for worse.

Leaving Home

As an undergrad I studied philosophy and psychology. I probably would have been better suited for English, which was surprisingly one of my least favorite subjects in school, along with math. I was definitely more interested in the sciences, especially biology and astronomy. It’s kind of painful to say, but coming to literature wasn’t really my dream, but it feels like where I was rightfully placed. I didn't view language as what I was passionate about and loved. I think my success with it was more a product of a weird background and a disordered mind.

After undergrad I did a few years of grad school in philosophy, but after that I didn’t really know where to go. Job opportunities in my hometown were very bleak. They're still bleak. People kept telling me that I should apply to MFA programs in writing, so I applied and got in to a few schools. I was totally shocked. That moment was the beginning of the biggest shift in my life. Where I went to undergrad was a campus literally surrounded by cornfields. Then suddenly I was living in Brooklyn and going to school in Manhattan.

Emerging from the subway for the first time, I had never seen anything like it—so many people. I have bad anxiety in big groups, so it took a while but eventually I got used to it. Culturally, though, the biggest adjustment was class. The cost of living in New York is astronomical. While I was studying there, maybe 150 students passed through our program and out of those students only about 3-4, including myself, came from a working class or low income background. It was the first time ever in my life I met people who said that they had gone to Ivy League schools for undergrad. I always thought that was something that only happened on TV or in books. I had to learn that there was nothing mythical about it.

Cambridge is the quintessential college town, and I feel very at ease here. Growing up, my world was a dictionary and an encyclopedia set, and now I have access to the world’s largest university library system. I can socialize and have a nightlife if I want, and be socially active, or I can keep to myself and camp out in the library if I need to. It feels like I have more options here to go my own way.

Getting to HDS

There are three things that led me here. The first was my general interest in philosophy, especially epistemology of religion. Ever since I was little I never had faith. I went to church but I didn’t understand why we were going to church. It felt like religion was one of the rare domains in which it's explicitly acceptable to believe in something against the evidence. This isn’t to say that reason and argumentation are not used to defend religion, especially with philosophers like Aquinas and especially with contemporary analytic philosophers of religion like Alvin Plantinga. They give well-reasoned arguments for religious belief. Even though I don’t agree with them, it's interesting to hear their approach because I'm more in line with that tradition. But what I am fascinated by are the traditions that don’t follow that path, that say there is something other than just evidence and reason, like experience and faith. Views like pragmatism and fideism. I'm not really on board with these views, but I think they say something important about the nature of belief. Not just religious belief, but belief in general.

What brought me here on a more personal level happened when I was doing research for my MFA thesis. I was researching the city of Monterrey in Northern Mexico, the region where most of my family is from, when I found out that the first European colonial settlers there were conversos, or Sephardic Jews who had converted to Christianity. I knew nothing about this history and no one in my family knew about it, either. I wanted to learn more about this vein of Jewish history because after DNA testing it was confirmed that my family has a significant percentage of Sephardic ancestry. So, part of what I am here to study is this hidden history of people navigating multiple worlds: There’s the Jewish thread that's been partially erased throughout history, and the indigenous thread which has been replaced by the more romanticized Aztec/Mayan civilizations, which don't actually seem to be causally connected to the indigenous tribes that existed along the borders. There's a lost story here, and I'm hoping to find out more about it and hopefully write about it.

The final moment that led me here, that pushed me to studying religion and philosophy, was a craft of fiction class at NYU taught by Zadie Smith. Zadie assigned me to give a presentation on Kafka and Kierkegaard; as soon as I started rereading those authors, I realized that I wanted to return to philosophy, but through the study of religion and literature. Zadie was very supportive and encouraging in my decision to come to HDS, as was Chuck Wachtel, my mentor and advisor at NYU. I wouldn't be here without their support.

Bearing Witness

I didn’t think there was anything ethical about the literary world until I had the opportunity to take a poetry workshop with Jorie Graham last semester. The workshop was amazing, and completely changed my outlook on art and language and really everything. I'm slowly getting over my discomfort in regarding myself as poet. I would've quit writing if not for that workshop. I'm now starting to see writing as a moral activity.

I think my most worthwhile poems aren’t the ones that I purposefully sit down to write; they just sort of come. And often it’s through this emotionally charged rant. My workshop saw it as bearing witness. I was pointing out a classed segment of society—the literary world. There's this willful ignorance that's led to the unfortunate political situation that we’re in now, and the fact that I’m even referring to the situation now is in itself problematic because most of the problems that are being discussed now have always been issues. For example, years ago I wrote a novella that took place in an ICE facility near Brownsville, Texas. In the story, the facility was in a gutted former Walmart that had no walls, only chain link fences, and all the prisoners were children. Then two years later ICE actually built this facility.

I don’t think there’s anything supernatural about this story. To me, it's all just about paying attention and seeing certain patterns and adopting an absurdist sensibility. But this led me to realize that if there's a pattern in society that I'm picking up on, then perhaps writing about it becomes a moral imperative. That’s kind of how I see writing poetry and fiction. I'm fascinated with this element of prophecy in fiction. And apocalypse. Jorie stressed that apocalypse actually means an unveiling. Not just an end to things, but a revealing of truths.

I never did anything with the novella because it was actually really bad. My classmates and instructor were phenomenal, but I was too immature of a writer at the time. Now people keep telling me that if I went back to it, rewrote it, it would get published. But that’s just because it’s timely. I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing that. I don’t want to give this false impression that illusions of representation, and bearing witness to the suffering of others, and simply pointing out injustice—that this all somehow absolves writers and publishers from the evils of society. And I think if the publishing world wasn't interested in this topic back then, in a few years it probably won’t be interested in it anymore. But the problem isn't going anywhere. If that’s the case then maybe we have a moral obligation, especially being in a position of privilege, to always and consistently be critical of ourselves and the powers that be, no matter who they are. The suffering that exists on their watch is ultimately suffering that exists on our behalf. We are all complicit in that.

Returning to Society

I would like to apply to PhD programs and see how that pans out. In any case, I would love to teach. That’s one thing that I discovered at NYU—that I love teaching. It doesn’t matter if it’s at a university or a high school. I'd like to mentor young writers. Shout out to the young artists and translators at Still Waters in a Storm in Bushwick, Brooklyn. They taught me how to be a better listener and to pay better attention to the world. That's probably the most important skill for a writer.  

Ever since I was little I did nothing but read, and I always think, what’s the point of acquiring knowledge if you’re not going to share it and exchange it or try to dissect it with the help of others? It reminds me of the prologue to Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where Zarathustra says that he's meditated alone for so many years that his mind has grown heavy from his thoughts. He needs to return to society to share them. Can't just hide in the library anymore.

Interview and photos by Anaïs Garvanian

[cedarmoons]

Prompt: "23. Exhausted parents kiss" for your adorable story where they had a baby??

Set in this verse. Prompt List || Ko-Fi

Rhona is, for the most part, the most well-behaved of his children, as far as he can recall. She does not whimper when Ariala takes her outside of their warm room, exposing her to the cooler air of Skyhold; her cries are instantly soothed when she listens to either Ariala’s or Solas’s heartbeat; she is quick to laugh, and reach for things, and wonder at the world.

It changes when she is approximately two-and-a-half weeks of age, and begins to cry, for no apparent reason, just before Solas tucks her into bed. He is alone in their room with his daughter; Ariala had fed her, and then disappeared downstairs to continue her wooing of Orlesian landowners in her quest to reclaim the Dales for her People.

Solas hushes her, gently taking her from her crib and holding her against his shoulder. He murmurs to her in Elvhen, reassurances that he is here, that she is safe and loved—a language she may not understand, yet, but they had always soothed his other three children. She quiets at his words, and he allows himself to exhale, before her face scrunches up and she wails, somehow louder and more piercing than before. It makes him flinch away, so he gently sets her on the bed, taking care to support her head, and tries to think of reasons for her tears.

She cannot be hungry; Ariala fed her before she left. Nor could she be complaining of a soiled diaper, because he had changed that before setting her in her crib, and a quick sniff confirms his suspicion. Perhaps…

“Do you want your mamae, ma da’lath?” he murmurs, his fingers gently pressing into her abdomen, feeling for unusual swelling or protrusions. Rhona’s entire face scrunches up and reddens as she puts every effort into making her wail louder and more piercing. It is heartbreaking. “Oh, ma’ashalan, don’t cry,” he murmurs, kissing her belly. “Mamae will return soon.”

Rhona, of course, does not heed him. He tries that Dalish trick Ariala had shown him, something that is apparently meant to soothe fussy infants suffering from gas. He takes her calves in hand and gently cycles her legs, pushing first one then the other up to press her knee against her belly. It works, as it had the first time; she breaks wind, yet is not soothed.

He tries everything he can think of, every trick he can remember from when Soran and Viera and Thenaera were infants, yet nothing works. He extinguishes the candles, thinking that perhaps she is overwhelmed by the sensations of the day, yet the darkness only intensifies her tears. He rocks her, humming half-remembered Elvhen lullabies and Dalish nursery rhymes, but this soothes her for only a few minutes before she returns to crying in force.

She is still crying when Ariala returns, hours later. His heart is resplendent in her red Dalish gown, custom-made by her favorite tailor, her braids still tight and perfect from when he’d done them that morning, but he is not in the correct mindset to appreciate her beauty. Ariala sees him on the bed, attempting for the sixth time to rock Rhona to sleep, and wordlessly she goes to him, taking their daughter from his arms.

He cannot imagine what time it is, not even when he looks at the pitch-black sky outside. “Are you hungry, da’vhenan?” Ariala whispers, undoing her bodice and taking out a breast. Solas rests his forehead on her shoulder as Rhona latches onto the nipple and they are given a few blessed moments of peace. Ariala turns her head, and Solas closes his eyes when he feels her lips brush against his temple.

“You look beautiful,” he says. “I hope she did not impede your negotiations.”

“The Comte de Laurier was an ass about her,” she says. “But I couldn’t get angry, of course, he owns the largest county in the Dales, not to mention its handful of silver mines. Gods, Solas, I’ve been kissing so much Orlesian ass my lips are chapped.”

Solas laughs, lowly, and lifts his head. “Yet it will prove worthwhile, in the end,” he says. He brushes her hair away from her shoulder and kisses the bare skin there, noting how she shivers against his side. Rhona releases the nipple far too soon, whimpering. Her hands fly toward her cheeks, clenching into tight, tiny fists. “She may have colic,” Solas says, just as Rhona starts to cry again.

It takes another hour to soothe her enough to sleep, and Solas casts a small, benign charm to help her stay asleep. As soon as their daughter is swaddled and put in the crib, Ariala sags against him. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours,” she murmurs. “I have another meeting with the Comte de Laurier tomorrow morning.”

“Cancel it,” Solas says. She laughs and flicks his shoulder, sleepily allowing him to undo her braids and run his fingers through her hair.

“I can’t do that,” she says, “he’s the leader of the Dales’s noblemen. They won’t give up their land until he does, and he won’t give up his land until… gods, I don’t know, I beg him or something. I’m the Inquisitor. Savior of Orlais, not to mention the world. I should get some slack, especially from some poncy smug-ass noble who wants his ego inflated.”

“There will always be lesser men seeking to undermine your accomplishments, vhenan,” Solas says, undoing the laces at the back of her dress. Once they are done, she shrugs her shoulders and the fabric parts around her, rippling like water as it pools at her feet. He leans forward, pressing his mouth to the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her. She sighs, lacing her fingers with his, pressing his palms flat against her stomach, still soft and round from her pregnancy. After several long, lingering moments, she pulls away to shrug on a robe. She returns to him soon and resumes her former position: standing before the crib, with Solas at her back.

Solas rests his head on her shoulder, gazing down at Rhona, resting at last. “Poor thing,” Ariala murmurs, her hands squeezing his. She turns in his arms and touches his face, drawing his attention from their daughter (their daughter, it has been two weeks and he still only half-believes it is real) to her. Solas watches her, his hands instinctively lowering to hold her hips.

Her gaze drops to his mouth, and her thumb presses into the dimple in his chin. Before he can move, she is surging up, rolling onto the balls of her feet and pressing her mouth to his. It is a simple, chaste kiss, but it leaves him wanting. He moves to cup the back of her head before she can pull away, holding her fast. She rests her hands on his stomach and pushes her hands up his torso, palms open, the heat of her hands bleeding through his tunic and making him shudder. Her nails drag down his chest and she swallows his gasp, her tongue pressing past his open mouth to taste him.

His knees feel weak, and he is dizzy on the rose perfume she favors, the warmth of the room, the press of her against his body. She nips at his lower lip and he moans, shifting his feet so he can press his thigh between her legs, parting the slip of her robe—

Rhona makes a soft, protesting noise behind them, and Ariala abruptly breaks the kiss, turning in his arms to gaze down at her. Yet when Rhona does not wake, she relaxes, leaning against him and threading her fingers through his.

“Good thing she’s cute, isn’t it?” she finally asks. Solas kisses her temple and watches their daughter, safe and asleep in her crib.

“Yes,” he agrees, thickly. “Yes, it is.”

[jezfletcher]

Oscars 2018

Can you believe that this year I managed to see every single Oscar-nominated film? I'm actually kind of impressed with myself. It's no small undertaking, especially because due to schedules of a toddler-related nature, in 2017 I had much less opportunity to watch films regularly. I did get out every now and again, and I took time off work to attend the Sydney Film Festival, which was a helpful event, in the end, with regards to my Oscars viewing. But mostly, these 44 feature films and 15 shorts were watched in the past month or so. Anyway, for the first time ever, here's my writeup of all the Oscar-nominated films of the past year, in order from my favourite to least favourite:

1. On Body & Soul (A Teströl és Lélekröl)

Directed by Ildikó Enyedi

Leading the pack this Oscars year is perhaps something of an unexpected entry. This is Hungary's submission for the Best Foreign Language Oscar, which I happened to see at the Sydney Film Festival earlier in the year. At that festival, it both took out my own personal Film Of The Festival, and was awarded the top competition award, the Sydney Film Prize. And there's a strong reason for that, because this is a wonderful, haunting film. It tells the story of two emotionally lost, and perhaps incomplete individuals, who connect when they discover that they've been sharing dreams at night. It's an odd premise, made odder by the unconventional nature of the characters, but it's utterly endearing and compelling at the same time. A lot of this is to do with director Ildikó Enyedi's style. She manages to make the film seem both ephemeral and engaging—I was drawn into the world with a kind of unforgiving compulsion, and yet when I was there it was alien, pushing me away. And so I revelled in it. The cinematography helps here too, with DP Máté Herbai finding beauty in both the dreamscape of the snowy forests where the two protagonists meet, and in the industrial brutalism of the slaughterhouse where they work. Overall, I found it a truly quite brilliant film, and it holds a very worth place at the top of this list. It might be a bit outside the tastes of the Academy voters, but for me I think it would be an excellent winner of the Foreign Language Oscar.

2. Lady Bird

Directed by Greta Gerwig

This had so many promising elements to me, and it was with something of a sigh of relief that I finally saw it and enjoyed it as much as I did. This is indeed a great film made of great parts, and there's much to be said about how good it is in its depth. The eponymous Lady Bird (Saoirse Ronan, an actress I always love on screen), is a high school senior, looking to escape from Sacramento when she goes to college next year. But she faces the fact that this is a less financially viable option than going to nearby UC Davis, and incredible pressure from her borderline abusive mother (Laurie Metcalf). There's so much to unpack in what could easily be a mediocre coming-of-age story. The layers in the family dynamics are rich, as is the development of the school world around Lady Bird. Her on-screen relationships, with first Danny (Lucas Hedges) and then Kyle (Timothée Chalamet) are achingly real, and touched with nostalgic regret. It feels like Greta Gerwig has put something really personal up on screen. Whether or not that's true is beside the point—she has managed to craft something that feels so real anyway. Nothing is out of place, and the characterisation is so believable that you feel following any one of these people would result in a fine film. That's honestly such a sign of quality for me. So yeah: I loved it. I'm aware it's the kind of film (black comic family drama, anyone?) that I'm kind of destined to love. But the fact that it ended up so good is wonderful—it really beat my expectations.

3. Get Out

Directed by Jordan Peele

I was so pleased when this got a nod for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. It's the kind of cult hit that could very easily be overlooked. Perhaps not without some consternation from fans; but it's the kind of thing that could happen and it would fit neatly into the Academy's narrative. If you don't know the story, I won't say much except that it starts off with a young black man (Daniel Kaluuya) travelling to meet his girlfriend's parents for the first time (played brilliantly by Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener). It's a satire of race relations in a really quite astoundingly way, unpredictable to some extent because, oh yes, it's a horror movie too. This is the kind of film that you feel breaks down some kind of invisible barrier in filmmaking—something that's been there and has stopped films like this being made before, just because you didn't realise there could be a film like this. Now to be fair, what I probably call an "invisible" barrier is probably very apparent to someone with a different cultural background. Which is why we need films from diverse directors, and Jordan Peele's first effort here is genuinely, genuinely brilliant. (Just as an aside, I notice that my top three films this year are from two women and a person of colour—so it's not just that I feel like diversity should be improved for its own sake, although it should, it's just that I really, really like films like these. What else are we missing out on for the sake of another reboot of King Kong?) Anyway, long story short: this is a fabulous film, and one that you really just need to see to experience. It was probably one of the most clever things I've seen on screen this year, or in several years, and it's well worth your time.

4. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Directed by Martin McDonagh

I feel like the top four films have each been brilliant in their own inimitable way—like they're very much the top contender each in a different category. The way that they've ended up sorted is more about the intrinsic value in each category than comparing like-for-like films. Three Billboards probably falls into something like the "fun" category, which to anyone who's seen the film might consider an odd choice, since it deals with the aftermath of a murder, and explores themes of racism, grief and anger. But there's so much to enjoy here in Martin McDonagh's brilliant screenplay, which I feel is easily the equal to his previous hit In Bruges, a film that was one of my very favourite films the year it came out. It not only establishes a complex interaction of characters in this small town, but it provides a brilliant vessel for his stars to shine. Frances McDormand is rightly considered the frontrunner for Best Actress this year, and she gives an uncompromising performance as a woman driven by grief-fuelled vengeance. Sam Rockwell is also extremely good, oozing into his character with a charm that's compelling and disturbing. It feels like he's having a really good time with this character, which is equally enjoyable and worrying. This is not to mention amusing digressions from the likes of Peter Dinklage, John Hawkes and Caleb Landry Jones. Most importantly though, there's an arc to the tale here which manages to swing around the attitudes and motivations of these characters, while never letting them be anything other than anti-heroes. The character development is undeniable, but even as you empathise with them onscreen, you're constantly aware that they are still at heart horrible people. Compelling, undoubtedly, which is what makes the film so enjoyable, but morally corrupt in some way or another. This is true almost up until the very end of the film, when just a sliver of something human is tantalised. Yeah, I really, loved this film. Apparently, it's seen a fair bit of backlash since its release—I've read some of the critiques of it, and I just have to say I disagree. But that's the good thing about movies right? I'm going to love some, you're going to love others. For me, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri was a treat.

5. The Insult (L'insulte)

Directed by Ziad Doueiri

It was a good year for the Foreign Language oscar this year, and in another iteration, a film like this could well be on top. It tells the tale of two men, one a Lebanese Christian, deeply into fundamentalist and nationalistic politics, and the other a Palestinian refugee living in Beirut. After a minor incident involving one of them splashing water on the other, a series of escalating encounters pushes them into the courts, and finally onto the national stage. It's almost a comic film. It's certainly some kind of dark satire at least, which allows you to forgive the almost ridiculous ways in which it progresses, eventually becoming a lightning rod for simmering racial tensions in Lebanon. It's almost requisite of films coming out of the Middle East that they deal with tensions such as these, but often they are not done nearly as well as in Doueiri's work here. Moreover, for a film that's mostly set in a courtroom, it manages to plumb great emotional and narrative depths. It launches into politics, history and racism. It feels like an educational as well as an entertaining experience. This is only possible because it's always grounded in a kind of empathetic portrayal. While one of our players is clearly the Good Guy, and the other the Bad Guy—there's always enough light let in to the performances such that you can at least see the Bad Guy's point of view, which makes the redemption of sorts towards the end seem like a possibility. Overall, this was a really well crafted and very engaging film. As I said, it's up against some stiff competition this year, but overall, it was a thoroughly worthwhile experience, even if it's not going to get my nod in its category.

6. The Big Sick

Directed by Michael Showalter

A fine film, with a really sparkling script taken right out of the lives of the two screenwriters, Emily Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani (who stars, effectively, as himself in the film). Kumail is a stand-up comedian who meets Emily (Zoe Kazan) after a set, and the two embark on a torrid relationship. But when Emily is forced into a medically-induced coma, Kumail has to deal with his emotions regarding what could have just been a fling. Add to the mix Kumail's efforts in avoiding his traditional Pakistani family's attempt to find him an arranged bride, and his wavering relationship with Emily's parents and you have a fine film. Emily's parents, by the way, who he meets for the first time at Emily's hospital bedside while she's comatose, are genuinely wonderfully portrayed on screen by Holly Hunter and Ray Romano. It's an unusual kind of romantic comedy, which is stronger for the fact that it's based in such a true and fertile emotional place. They can layer on the comedy as much as they like, because there's such a perfect tragic core at its heart. It's never going to be seen as flippant. And this allows for those wonderful moments where scenes turn on a dime—one minute you're laughing uproariously, the next you're wincing in pain. It's a fine film to be able to do all of this, and I very much appreciate the skill with which this is executed. This is one of the films that I'd be very happy to get a surprise nod for screenplay, notwithstanding I probably have other films above it that I liked more overall.

7. Blade Runner 2049

Directed by Denis Villeneuve

I was extremely impressed with this film. It's a fine film in its own right, but more impressively, it was a film that managed to survive the weight of expectations from being the sequel to a science fiction classic. This is undoubtedly due, at least in part, to the work of the always fine Denis Villeneuve, who is a director I will follow into battle nowadays. He's doing such interesting work, and conducting an ensemble like this is no mean feat. He has excellent assistance, of course, and there's a reason why this is nominated in categories like Production Design and Cinematography. It manages to be both a coherent part of the original film's ethos, but also a bolkd new step. In many ways, I actually found this to be a more enjoyable film than the original. And this is despite the fact that close to three hours in length, this film is undoubtedly slow in places. But you forgive it. You wallow in this world. You wallow in the characters and the andante-paced story. This is a better filmn for its world-building than for its plot (much, I might add, like the Phillip K. Dick source material). I enjoyed it a great deal in any case, and I was perhaps a little awed at how they managed to so pull off something like this. I feel like I'm deeply skeptical of the recent Hollywood tradition of launching remakes, reboots, sequels and spin-offs. But a film like this shows that occasionally, maybe it works. I just hope that they see that as a testament to the crew involved in this film, and not the intrinsic quality of just reheating the old.

8. Coco

Directed by Lee Unkrich and Adrian Molina

I think this is the best Pixar film in some time, and as always when a Pixar film is good, it's due to its emotional depth. This tells the story of a young boy who wants to be a musician, and is accidentally sent to the land of the dead right before Diá de los Muertos. He has to find a way to return to the land of the living before the celebration. It's a fine film, and one that feels like it respects and embraces the Mexican traditions of the festival. Indeed, it has a depth that, to me as an outsider, felt like it was honouring these traditions, in a way that allowed me to understand them better. It manages to do this with a family-friendly story, and plenty of style, drawing on the skeletal folk traditions of the festival. It's also an emotional film, and by the end, you feel as though it's been building up everything for the emotional sucker punch. This is something that Pixar can do extremely well when the elements are right. A fine return to form after a few films that I don't think I even saw, and by all accounts were not very good. Pixar is a long way from the time when everything they produced was a hit, but with films like Coco, they show that they've still got it in them when they want it.

9. I, Tonya

Directed by Craig Gillespie

The story of Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan is one that I vaguely remember from my childhood. It was a big news story at the time, but one that just got morphed and twisted over time. I, Tonya is the film that plays very much on the mythology of the attack on Nancy Kerrigan, providing a fractured but painfully sympathetic portrayal of its title character. I honestly found this film quite distressing in a bunch of ways. This is the second film on this list with an abusive mother-daughter relationship, but this is significantly more challenging, especially thanks to the powerhouse performance of Allison Janney as Harding's mother. This relationship is brutal, but so is Harding's co-dependent relationship on her violent husband Jeff (played by an unrecognisable Sebastian Stan). Margot Robbie too is extremely good in the lead role, although she makes the (perfectly valid) choice to make Harding less than ideally sympathetic. It's the right choice for the film, but it does add more of a grind to watching it. But it's a better portrayal, you feel, for who Harding was. When I first came out of this film, I wasn't actually sure if I'd liked it or hated it. But it's stuck with me to such a degree that I can't help but elevate it to a position like this in the list. I think, in the end, it's a very clever film, and manages to portray Tonya Harding in a way that might be very difficult to do in a more traditional milieu.

10. A Fantastic Woman

Directed by Sebastián Lelio

A really quite wonderful film, A Fantastic Woman tells the story of an aspiring singer (Daniela Vega), who struggles with the death of her partner, 30 years her senior, and the suspicion with which she is viewed by her partner's family after his death. In many ways, it's a fairly straight down the line drama. It uses the conflict between Marina and her partner's family as the backdrop to explore some issues, especially around transgender identity, but it's not shoving messages down your throat. Instead, it takes Vega's performance as Daniela in a very staid and understated way. This is all very intentional of course. It emphasises the fact that all Marina wants to do is to live her life. To be able to grieve over the death of her partner. To be not treated with suspicion, or subjected to brutality and degradation. She's just normal, but that makes her fantastic. Overall, I very much enjoyed this film. It was extremely well made, and fills out the field in an already packed and genuinely very good Foreign Language category this year. Again, this could have done well in another year.

11. The Florida Project

Directed by Sean Baker

I quite enjoyed Sean Baker's debut film Tangerine, but this film is a broadening of his artistic style, and ends up being a much better film for it. It once again focuses on a group on the edges of society, this time a community of people who live in gaudy motels on a highway strip just outside of Disneyworld in Florida. It's largely told through the eyes of the children who live here, in particular Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), who are left to explore their surroundings without much in the way of supervision—providing a surprisingly raw look at where a child's imagination will take them without boundaries. Supporting are the characters of Moonee's mother (Bria Vinai) and the manager of the motel in which they live (Willem Dafoe, who rightly earned his Oscar nomination for this film). It's in turns depressing and uplifting, as we see the struggle of the parents (who are by no means the sugar-coated ideal of noble poverty), and the ways in which the children learn to survive and to flourish. It does have the same kind of jerky cinematography that characterised Tangerine, although that was filmed on iPhones, but here there's still a sense of weird, garish beauty to the uber-kitsch motels and strip-malls of Florida. Somehow it works. It's a really interesting film, and certainly one that I feel as though I can recommend wholeheartedly—something I couldn't necessarily do with Tangerine. Sean Baker has certainly shown with this film at least that he's a director to watch in the future, and I'll certainly be doing that.

12. Loveless

Directed by Andrey Zvyagintsev

This was the very last film I saw for the Oscars this year, so had the honour if wrapping up all the feature films. Like Zvyagintsev's other films, it's a chilly, minimalist affair, but like all of his previous ones it has an emotional impact that you'd not expect from its spare production. In this film, a family is undergoing a divorce. Both husband and wife have new partners waiting for them—one pregnant, one rich, aloof and used to their life as it is right now. Custody of their son would be a burden on either of them, and neither of them wants to accept him. Then, the son disappears. What follows is a typically emotionally bare and brutal undertaking from the director. It's almost merciless in its depiction of characters without warmth of spirit, and the consequences this eventually brings upon them. It's eerily beautiful too, set in the starkness of Moscow highrises and long snowy banks. Like the emotions it conjures, there's a bleakness to it, ably assisted by a minimalist soundtrack. I think this is maybe not as good as Zvyagintsev's pervious film Leviathan, because I enjoyed the more overt political overtones there. This is still a political film, without a doubt, but its politics are more cached in the environment that creates characters like this. That is, it's one level removed from an explicit exploration of societal corruption. But it's still an excellent film, and a film which shows the Foreign Language award this year as an extremely strong category. Whichever film ends up winning, it's had to take on some impressive competition.

13. The Post

Directed by Steven Spielberg

I won't spend a lot of time on this film, but suffice it to say that I found it an enjoyable, by-the-numbers outing from Spielberg, helped by the always competent performances from Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks. I feel like Meryl Streep has a common thread running through her performances, and yet in every one I've seen she seems unlike all the others. Here, her performance as the insecure publisher of a major newspaper manages to tap into that sense of inner strength she always has, but layers it with a timorous quality which is surprisingly engaging on screen. It helps as well that there's a good story to tell here—it's not the story of the breaking news of the Pentagon papers, but more how it was specifically dealt with within the Washington Post. This is more entertaining than it would have been to see how the story was originally broken open (the Post was not the paper to originally get the story). But yeah, it's a fine film, very enjoyable and very by the numbers. With a cast of such established actors, and an old-hand director like Spielberg at the reins, it was unlikely to be anything else.

14. Call Me By Your Name

Directed by Luca Guadagnino

This was a fine, very stylistic film, which used its setting to great effect, and tells a tentative love story in an oblique way. Timothée Chalamet is Elio, the son of a classics professor (Michael Stuhlbarg). Over the summer, a student of his (Armie Hammer) comes to work at their Italian villa, and a romance ensues between Elio and the much older student. It's set as a love story, and it mostly manages to avoid the questionable nature of the relationship by showing it in a very sympathetic and delicate light. Elio pursues Oliver, not the other way around. Oliver and Elio embrace consent at every step of the way. And they have the tacit approval of Elio's parents. Indeed, the absolute highlight of the film is Stuhlbarg's speech to his son towards the end of the film, where he shows wisdom and compassion that made me hope that I could one day be as good a father as he is. The fact that Stuhlbarg is not nominated for an Oscar for supporting actor, for that speech alone, is a travesty. Overall, it's a fine film, if not one that rocketed to the top of my list, which I feel a very similar film in style, tone and content could have. But a very worthy film nonetheless.

15. Mudbound

Directed by Dee Rees

This was a quite beautiful film, surrounding two families, one white, one black, in rural Mississippi after World War II. It's a well-crafted portrayal of racial segragation, but also of surprising friendship in the younger generation. This is, of course, contrasted with the older tensions, especially the savage portrayal of the elderly patriarch of the McAllan family from Jonathan Banks. The film doesn't shy away from the harsh truths of this world. It's also exquisitely shot, with broad vistas of the rural landscape, and claustrophobic interiors, used to great thematic purpose. It's no wonder that this managed a nomination for Best Cinematography. Overall, I enjoyed it a great deal. It was a very skillfully crafted piece of cinema that is very much worth your time.

16. Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Directed by Rian Johnson

Undoubtedly more divisive that the film that came before it, The Last Jedi is also a film that I found myself embracing less wholeheartedly than I did The Force Awakens. But it's one of those films that you most likely have to let percolate. A film that you should probably watch a second time and appreciate more than the first. Like its predecessor, it does follow a lot of the same storyline as the original trilogy. Rey, separated from her friends, and seeking the ways of the Jedi with an old master. But also like The Empire Strikes Back, this seeks to break new ground, and it certainly manages to do that. Much has been said about the humour in this film, especially about whether it detracts from the mood of the franchise. But this is just one of the ways in which this film succeeds. More than anything, it needed to break from The Force Awakens. TFA was the film it needed to be. It needed to soothe nerves after the prequels. It needed to get back to the traditional lore. And it did this in a very safe way—too safe in some ways, in that it almost copied the exact storyline of A New Hope. The Last Jedi manages to avoid that. It is at least the first steps into doing something different, and that is what was needed from this film. Rian Johnson may be facing some backlash now, but I think in the course of history, this will be seen as a necessary and pivotal film in the franchise.

17. Marshall

Directed by Reginald Hudlin

This was just good old-fashioned filmmaking, and I genuinely enjoyed it a good deal. A courtroom drama, set in the civil rights era, it focuses on one of the early cases of Thurgood Marshall, who goes on to become the first African-American Supreme Court Judge. It's a serviceable but predictable kind of plot, but it's told with style and charm, and pulled off with good performances from Chadwick Boseman and Josh Gad. The production design is also quite lush—it pulls together a sense of period in a kind of effortless way, more like the films released in the 90s and 00s than the fussier style of today. I enjoyed it a good deal. It's not a truly great film, but it's certainly one which entertained me for its length. And honestly, there are a great number of films, like many of these below, which fail to do that.

18. The Shape Of Water

Directed by Guillermo del Toro

This is a very odd film to be getting the kind of reception it has. Let me say straight off the bad that it's an exceptionally well-crafted film. It has an amazing ensemble cast. del Toro has an excellent sense of style, and an undeniable eye for the unusual. But I did find myself equivocal about the film overall. To some extent, this comes down to the plot, which is a little like a cross between a 50's sci-fi B-movie and Oh No, Willy Didn't Make It And He Crushed Our Boy. But this is hidden behind layers and layers of production design, and of del Toro's sense of fantastical whimsy. Disappointingly, I like all of the actors who are up for Oscar nominations for this film, but I didn't particularly like them all that much in this particular film. Sally Hawkins is perhaps more of the exception, as she manages to put together a remarkable performance without speaking a word. Still, I think that if this film does take out Best Picture, I'll be scratching my head a bit. It's not only that it's not the pick that I would have chosen, I feel as though it's really not the pick that the Academy would have chosen. So, who knows, maybe that's a good thing.

19. Roman J. Israel, Esq.

Directed by Dan Gilroy

OK, speaking of odd films, here's a corker. Directed by Dan Gilroy as a follow to his excellent debut Nightcrawler, this is something of a vessel for Denzel Washington to show his range. He plays the titular Israel, a socially awkward man, but a brilliant lawyer, who struggles to find a place for himself after the death of his legal partner. It's a weird film, but one that I found myself enjoying in spite of myself. Partially, this is due to watching Denzel Washington. He's a fine actor in any role, but in one with such neuroses to play with, it's something of a master class. But the film surrounding this performance is in some senses not worthy of it. You get the feeling that without Denzel Washington, this film would have just been a stinker. Plot-wise it's somewhat pedestrian, and it kind of meanders only as much as it needs to to create new situations for this character to react to. It's nowhere near as plot driven or engaging as Gilroy's previous outing. But that's what it's here at the Oscars for, right? For Denzel Washington, as always. And here, at least, I'm very happy to see him. This is indeed a fine performance from him—indeed, despite everything, it might be one of his better performances. And he does carry this film enough to get it this high in my list. Despite its flaws, I did like it.

20. Strong Island

Directed by Yance Ford

So here, finally, we have the first documentary feature. And it's a fine film, and a deeply personal one, surrounding the investigation of the murder of a young black man, who, it turns out, was the filmmaker's brother. Usually, I'm less likely to enjoy documentaries that don't have a sense of journalistic detachment to them. But here, the pain and the intimacy with which we are told this story through Ford's eyes, and the eyes of his family, more than makes up for the lack of perspective. This is an emotional journey, but it's one that's told with a firm hand on the tiller. Ford never relinquishes that sense of objective filmmaking in order to editorialise. He's well aware that the story itself is evocative enough. In the end, it's a good documentary. It's not one of the best documentaries I've seen in recent years, but it's certainly the best of this year's bunch.

21. Victoria & Abdul

Directed by Stephen Frears

I enjoyed this film a great deal. It's a surprisingly charming film about the relationship between an elderly Queen Victoria and a young Indian Muslim whom she takes on to teach her Urdu and about Islam. It's a sweet film in many ways, and lavishly produced, with good performances from Judi Dench and Ali Fazal in the title roles. It paints a rather sympathetic portrayal of Victoria as well—as someone who is fascinated by the Indian subcontinent, which she is Empress of, but of which she is largely ignorant. In this, there's a touch of cultural imperialism though. We see the favour with which Victoria treats her Indian friend without seeing the implications of the British Raj on the people of India. It's very much a film for a white audience, that chooses not to engage very much with the more difficult topic. But as a piece of fluff disconnected with these things, it's quite enjoyable. It was a film I saw on a plane, and it's just the right kind of film for me in that situation. It doesn't require a lot of attention, and it's somewhere between light-hearted and truly emotional. In the end, it is what it is, and that was fine.

22. Dunkirk

Directed by Christopher Nolan

It's undeniable that this was a fairly impressive outing from Nolan. But to me this was a technical achievement more than it was a great film. Telling a sequence of only peripherally related tales surrounding the British evacuation of Dunkirk, it very much manages to illustrate the epic scope of the operation. But that's pretty much all it is. I really didn't much at all get the sense of compelling narrative in this. I mean, it's there, in each of the individual threads, and to some extent you do care about these characters. But it's all done with such an eye for the broader scope that none of the individual stories seem to matter all that much. To some extent, that's probably the idea, or at least the inevitable end result of such a film. It is about the larger picture much more than it is about the individual stories, even though the tapestry is woven from those stories. Sadly, it failed a little as an engaging picture for me, even though the visuals and the technical expertise required to put a film like this on the screen is quite extraordinary. So I'll continue to respect Nolan as a director. He definitely has the skills to pull off difficult things. But I'm kind of hopeful that this trend of his to the wider and wider epic won't mean that he's given up on the more engaging, intimate and plot-driven films of his early career. We'll wait and see.

23. The Square

Directed by Ruben Östlund

An interesting but ultimately overly precious film, about the curator of a major Swedish art museum as he prepares for a new installation, while also trying to track down his stolen wallet and phone. It has a number of different threads, and there's a bunch of rather bombastic pretention thrown into the mix, including an extended scene at an art fundraiser where a man acting like a Bonobo ape is let loose on the crowd as a piece of performance art. These are all stylistic choices that Östland makes which imbue the film with a sense of added pretense. All of this makes the film less immediately engaging than it might be. It deliberately obfuscates at times, becoming more like the art you feel it's satirising than it does a coherent picture itself. But there's still things to enjoy in it. Overall, I found it relatively engaging. I feel some of the choices were made for the wrong reasons though, and it ended up being a worse film than it might have been.

24. Loving Vincent (animated)

Directed by Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman

Another impressive technical achievement, this is a gorgeous film, with every frame of animation a separate oil painting, painted by one of a massive team of artists. It tells the aftermath of Vincent Van Gogh's death, as investigated by the son of one of Van Gogh's friends. The narrative is pretty much not the point of the film—they do manage to craft something that is enough to keep things plodding along, but really you can enjoy this film just by looking at it. Interestingly, the film had to be produced pretty much twice, because the action is performed first by live actors (the likes of Douglas Booth, Saoirse Ronan, Aidan Turner and Chris O'Dowd), was then printed on canvas, and overpainted with oils, all in the style of Van Gogh. It's a mind-boggling effort. In some respects it's not a film that should ever have been made—the fact that it has been, no matter what the half-baked plot was, is the really interesting story here.

25. The Breadwinner

Directed by Nora Twomey

This was another quite beautiful film, traditionally animated in beautiful form from the same studio that did The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, both of which were also nominated in the Best Animated Feature category. This film is set in Afghanistan, between the war with Russia and the US invasion, when the country is under Taliban control. Parvana is a young girl who has a gift for telling stories, one of which runs through the film in pieces. When her father is arrested by the Taliban, she disguises herself as a boy so as to be able to perform work and support her family. It's a sad film in many ways, but it shows a great deal of what's good in life as well, even in pretty dark circumstances. Parvana's gift of story is an illustration of the way such tales can invigorate, and sooth. The animation is good, as it has been in all this studios films, traditionally animated, or at least animated in a 2D style. And the story here is both more mature and engaging than in their previous efforts that I've seen. Overall a good film. My limited engagement with animated films drops this as low as it is, but honestly, there are many animated films that would not do nearly as well as this has.

26. Phantom Thread

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

I was quite disappointed with how low this has ended up, but it's a position that it warrants, despite the fact that it has much of Paul Thomas Anderson's charm and craft all over it. Daniel Day-Lewis plays Reynolds Woodcock, a prominent but eccentric fashion designer who lives in a difficult co-dependent relationship with his sister (Lesley Manville). When he begins a relationship with a waitress, Alma (Vicky Krieps), she has to adapt to his eccentricies, the rancour of his sister, and life in the tortured world of fashion. It's an elaborately crafted film, and to some extent feels like an academic exercise that PTA has given himself. It's fussy in its production, in a way that matches well the personality of its leading man. The music is a highlight from Johnny Greenwood, and stands apart as one of the films greatest strengths. The other strength of course is the presence of Daniel Day-Lewis. He's a chameleonic actor, to the extent that I honestly don't at all know what a base-level Daniel Day-Lewis performance is like. He completely reinvents himself for every role, and this one—a difficult one, no doubt—is performed with that same complexity and grace. It's disappointing in some ways that it so failed to connect with me. There were lots of good elements, but they did not combine into something holistically interesting. It was, altogether, too particular, too pleased with itself, or too exacting of its audience for me to embrace.

27. Wonder

Directed by Stephen Chbosky

Wonder tells the tale of a young boy with facial deformities (Jacob Tremblay) as he makes the transition from home schooling to being integrated into a traditional middle school. It looked like absolute shchmaltz. But in fact, there was a surprising amount of depth and heart to the film, and a sophistication of thought that made it rise above its shonky premise. There's something surprisingly human about the whole thing, not due to the pathos, but due to the combination of pathos and humour. It is rather optimistic throughout, but it steers away from melodrama and sentimentality. In some senses it rides above its premise, to provide more of a straight family drama. This is accentuated by good performances from Julia Roberts and Owen Wilson, and in particular from Jacob Tremblay and Izabela Vidovic as his sister. The focus on other members of the family, and the wider ensemble helps to promote this. Indeed, the film ends up bearing some resemblance to Chbosky's previous film, the excellent The Perks of Being A Wallflower. It doesn't have the same depth, or the same fluency of character, but Chbosky obviously knows what he's doing in this domain. So it's a surprising effort for a film I expected to dislike a great deal. It's a better outing than it sounds, and ends up, while still not an excellent film, quite good at delivering on its premise.

28. Icarus

Directed by Bryan Fogel

This is a very, very odd film. It's a documentary that starts out with the filmmaker, Bryan Fogel, trying a social experiment to see if he can get away with using performance enhancing drugs for an amateur road cycling race. In pursuit of this, he meets Grigory Rodchenkov, a Russian scientist in charge of his country's anti-doping agency, and the two devise a doping schedule for the director. But the director doesn't know what he's found, because in the middle of filming, Russia's anti-doping scheme is revealed, and Rodchenkov is unveiled as the mastermind behind it. From that point, the documentary pivots and becomes the first-hand story of Rodchenkov turning whistle-blower against his former colleagues, and the revelations of the conspiracy which seem to go to the very top of the Russian government. Fogel is thrown in the deep end to this one. This is not the documentary he was going to make, and neither is he the right director for it—he's hanging on for dear life as the story unravels in front of him. To his credit, he manages to ride it out, and we get a credible and quite engaging story out of it. But there are places where it's quite dicey. He does have the unfortunate habit of trying to put himself too squarely into the middle of the action, a fault that seems common in mediocre documentarians, but given the initial premise of the film, we can at least see why he does it. In the end, there's a really very compelling story in this documentary. The fact that it's told the way it is is the result of luck more than skill on the part of the filmmakers. But it's also luck for us—we get to see the story unfold in a way that we would have missed otherwise. And that's worth something.

29. The Disaster Artist

Directed by James Franco

I'd seen The Room several years ago, and if you haven't it's worth the hype. It is truly a masterpiece of appallingly bad cinema. So I was quite intrigued to see the story behind it, however it was filtered by James Franco. And it is a rather interesting, if quite silly story. The main event here is the characterisation of the star of The Room, Tommy Wiseau. He's a man steeped in mystery—somehow exceptionally wealthy, destined to be an actor, but with very little talent, and zero sense of self-awareness. Somehow though, Franco manages to make him a sympathetic character—the central figure in a tragedy perhaps. It's a soft touch, and easily the best thing about the film. The rest, however, is serviceable but never inspired. The script is only mediocre as far as I'm concerned, despite its nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay, and only manages to provide the main beats of the plot without a great deal of humour or panache. In the end, it's an okay film. I certainly had some fun with it, but it's hard to recognise it as much of a sterling piece of cinematic history. That honour remains solely with The Room.

30. The Boss Baby

Directed by Tom McGrath

By any account, this should have been the worst film of the Oscars. This is surely one of the most awful premises for a movie ever, right? Secretly, our protagonist Tim's new baby brother is a business executive, sent on a secret mission to infiltrate his family, and steal secret plans on a new kind of puppy. Can you hear me gagging already? So how does this manages to twist itself into a heartwarming parable about family, and in particular brotherly love? I suspect this is because it draws on the source material, a picture book by Marla Frazee, a medium not suited to convoluted backstory of the kind that sickened me in this film. But the emotions it evokes are relatable. A new child is brought into the family, which disrupts the status quo in a way that the existing child resists and resents. But over time, almost without realising it, they grow to love one another. The way this tale is framed within the film is almost inconsequential. Yeah, there's some silly plot involving stealing secret plans from PuppyCo. And there are a number of set pieces surrounding the chase and execution of this plot. But that's certainly not what got me. In the end, admittedly, this is still something of a silly film, and its position here isn't great. But for a film that should have been a Giant Novelty Shoe-in for worst film of the Oscars, it endeared itself to me in a way I really wasn't prepared for.

31. Faces Places (Visages, Villages)

Directed by Agnès Varda & JR

A fairly interesting but also perplexing documentary about the surprising friendship that arises between veteran French director Agnès Varda and young photographer JR, whose shtick is pasting massive versions of his photography on forgotten architecture. Together, the two of them travel around France, finding unusual places to exhibit JRs next piece of artwork, which Varda muses on her life, and reflects on her many triumphs and regrets. Largely the film revolves around the friendship that blooms between the two co-directors. But it's a very understated piece, with little in the way of conflict, or even much that's revelatory. The only real human emotion which sneaks in is saved until near the end of the piece, when Varda takes JR to meet her old friend Jean-Luc Godard. The rest is staid, and a little perplexing, but never unbeautiful. It's more a pictorial of JR's art though than anything really resembling a story. And that makes it a harder film to swallow than it really should be. As a result, this is languishing towards the back end of the list, and honestly, that's a bit of a shame.

32. Logan

Directed by James Mangold

People kind of raved about this film, calling it an impressive departure from the regular superhero storyline. While it's true that it is a departure from the regular superhero fare, it doesn't necessarily follow that it hence deserves a rave. The world has changed from the X-Men universe we know. The mutations which caused superhero powers have seemingly stopped, Professor Xavier is now crippled by his mental powers, and is cared for in a bunker by a bitter, resentful Wolverine. But of course, their life is not destined to just peter out without a sound, and they get dragged into a conspiracy that requires their intervention once again. Don't get me wrong: this is significantly more interesting than most of the superhero films that are trotted out year after year. But after the unusual set-up, and some bleaker than normal cinematography, this really does become a lot like another superhero film. At its core, it can't escape that, and when it devolves into long tracts of choreographed fight sequences, I'm much less interested. So yeah, I can perhaps see why this was regarded with critical interest. But at the same time, it didn't do much for me.

33. Beauty and the Beast

Directed by

Not a great film, admittedly, and to some extent warranted some of the criticism thrown at it. It is, after all, not far from a shot-for-shot live-action remake of Disney's classic animated version—a version which is rightfully regarded as a triumph. But because it's based on such solid material, there is a good deal of charm to it. Emma Watson's Belle is engaging in her role, although as people have said, she's not an incredible singer, meaning that her songs are only so good. The rest of the cast (which is surprisingly good), do a serviceable job, but at every moment you're comparing them to the animated versions of themselves, and the comparison is rarely favorable. Perhaps the exception is Luke Evans as Gaston, who manages to be suitably and consistently smarmy, and Josh Gad as LeFou, who manages to elicit some sympathy from the audience. In the end, it was better than it might have been. And it's not as good as the original. While you might look at it and say "it didn't fail in its attempt", you might equally ask "why was the attempt made in the first place?".

34. Darkest Hour

Directed by Joe Wright

I had a bunch of problems with this film. Telling the days of the early turbulent reign of Winston Churchill's prime-ministership, it focuses on the difficult future facing Britain in WWII, when victory was so far from assured that a Nazi invasion seemed inevitable. Notwithstanding Gary Oldman's believable mimickry of Churchill, the film concerned me in a bunch of different ways. It sought to give insight into the difficult decisions of government—which in this case involved outright lying to the people of the country, and nationalist propaganda designed to help the war effort at the cost of transparency. But in so doing, the film seemed to canonise such efforts. This is the cost of winning a war, it stated, and the ends justify the means. Worse is the fact that the seeming pivotal moment when Churchill seeks the approval of the common man (a sappy sequence set on the London Underground) is played off as the moral basis of the film. Everyone, it seems, approves of the job Churchill is doing. They support the war effort. They support the need for austerity. They are optimistic about Britain's chances, because Britons have the backbone to win a fight, jolly what. The film portrays Churchill as buoyed by this, despite the fact that in the narrative of the film these people only think this due to the propaganda Churchil himself is spouting. The whole sequence made me very cynical, and it underlined all of the thematic issues with the film elsewhere. If it were a better made film overall, I'd perhaps even consider it dangerous to some extent. But I think that it might only be remembered as a vessel for Gary Oldman, who's apparently one of the favourites to take out the Best Actor nod. And maybe that's fine as its legacy.

35. Abacus: Small Enough to Jail

Directed by Steve James

This wasn't a terrible documentary, but it was one that was drawn out for too long. It tells the story of the Abacus bank, a small American operation set up to appeal to the Chinese community in that country. Unlike any of the other banks which were caught up in the aftermath of the global financial crisis, Abacus was the only bank whose directors and management were charged with crimes. The documentary follows the trials, and tells the story of the how they ended up in the situation they did. It focuses less on the impact of the GFC on all the other banks, and I think misses an opportunity to take more of a swing at the big players. Instead, it focuses on how unfair it is that Abacus was targeted, rather than how unfair it is that Abacus was the only bank targeted. The other issue I have with the film is that the middle section is severely over-extended. To be fair, if it were not, the film itself would be much shorter—and it's not an overly long film as it is, so it may have not even been classified as a feature film if it were not extended in this way. But there's a great deal of time spent focusing on the family's and directors musing on what's going to happen in the trial, without much in the way of narrative thrust. In the end, it's only so good. I liked the concept behind it, but the delivery and execution meant that this fell a long way down the list.

36. Baby Driver

Directed by Edgar Wright

A rather silly film, directed with panache and a sense of style, but ultimately one which really just had me giving a bunch of sideeye. Let's talk about the good bits. The music, which provides almost the rhythmic thrust of the film, is universally excellent. It's an eclectic mix of any number of pieces, usually drawn from the lesser-known back catalogues. And there's a kind of anti-establishment style to the film, especially the driving sequences, which are, in turn aided by the pumping soundtrack. But the story is weak, and the characterisation is even more so. These folks are comic-book cutouts—which, you feel, would fit the style of the movie—but instead it just creates a sense of detachment which means that I personally never felt involved in the world. I just didn't care about anyone. It's also not aided by the performances of the leads. Kevin Spacey phones in a "look, I'm Kevin Spacey" doddle, and Ansel Elgort is just numbingly bland in the title role. Some pleasingly uncharacteristic menace comes from John Hamm and Jamie Foxx, but they're not the main focus of the film, so their presence is only sporadically helpful. I ended up just feeling alienated from the film. It didn't do anything to really draw me in at all, and as a result, I ended up not caring. Worse, the stylistic embellishments ended up feeling a bit like an ego trip for Edgar Wright—the film hadn't earnt them, and given it had fundamental problems, it came across as wank.

37. Last Men in Aleppo (doc)

Directed by Feras Fayyad

This film suffered a lot from the fact that I'd seen The White Helmets the year before, which covered the same group of Syrian volunteers whose job is to rescue survivors from bombed buildings. The two films were produced by different people, so there's not necessarily the sense that one is just a richer adaptation of the other. This one, however, does have the advantage of being able to delve more deeply into the lives of the people around the White Helmets. In particular, there's a fair amount of time spent looking at the children who are rescued, often finding themselves orphaned, and their ongoing relationship with the people who rescued them. But I'll admit my attention was wavering at points through the film, largely because I felt like I'd heard about this before. This probably means that I was missing out on a deeper experience than I got from The White Helmets. That's probably a shame.

38. War for the Planet of the Apes

Directed by Matt Reeves

I've really enjoyed this film series. I particularly liked the original, which had a really wonderful exploration of the worldbuilding in the first Planet of the Apes film. And I was then very pleasantly surprised by the follow up Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, for adding an interesting moral ambiguity into the inevitable conflict between the apes and the humans. But this film I found to be easily the weakest of the lot. In some ways, that's not unsurprising. The trilogy needed a cap at the end of it, and it was trying to wrap things up in a way that was meaningful. But that, to some extent, came at the expense of this particular film—it may have helped the series as a whole, but not this specific episode in it. It's also much less a film that's interested in exploring the ethos of the world, or even necessarily the development of the relationship between the humans and the apes. It's a war film, by necessity, and that has a limited appeal to me. There are good parts, as there have been throughout the series, including the visual effects, and Serkis's performance as Caesar. But there's only so much that can help. This is not one of the big picks for me.

39. The Greatest Showman

Directed by Michael Gracey

This is this year's La La Land, the high concept musical (with songs from the La La Land team, no less), that ends up being very silly at times. And while it would be very easy to eviscerate this for all that's wrong with it, there were enough good parts to it that I'm infiriatingly feeling the need to defend it. Really, in broad strokes, this is not good. The concept and script are very poor, and so obvious in places that I thought I was going to do damage to my optic nerve by rolling my eyes so much. Hugh Jackman is predictable, and Michelle Williams is actively bad in this. But whereas La La Land rode or fell (it definitely fell) on the performances of its two leads, this is much more of an ensemble piece, and parts of the ensemble save it. In particular in this film, the subplot surrounding the romance between Zac Efron and Zendaya is told with an emotion and subtlety that has no place in a film like this. These two actors are easily the best thing about the film, and they really provide some heart to a film that's otherwise lacking it. It's also true that the set pieces and the musical numbers are put on the screen with a style that other recent musicals have severely lacked. That's not to say it survives its overall crumminess, but there are a lot of people (not including the leads) who are working very hard to make this film a success. And apparently, it is indeed a success. This has been a surprising hit at the box office, despite the panning it's got critically. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. There's definitely a place for films like this, and musicals in general. And who knows, perhaps if they keep making them, eventually we'll get one that's actually good.

40. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Directed by James Gunn

I really don't much see the appeal of this film franchise. I think partially it's due to missing the appeal of the now blandly handsome Chris Pratt. He used to have a kind of schlubby charm in the days of Parks & Recreation and Her. But now he's just conformed to the mould of vague action-hero leading man. This is particularly true in this volume of Guardians of the Galaxy, which I found much more lacking in the humour that at least set the first episode apart. It's possible that this is just due to the fact that the first episode was different from the other standard comic-book films being churned out, and this is not significantly different from Vol. 1. But still, it matters because our expectations were somewhere for this film, and the end result is something that's just not that innovative any more. I still think that the best part of both of these films is Dave Bautista's Drax, who this time has an amusing relationship with an empathic alien. The dynamics between the rest of the group is less interesting this time—there's manufactured tension, but very little of the natural friction you got when this rag tag bunch were thrown together. And the story? Was there much of a story? Yes and no. Yes, there was a story. No, I didn't care about it, and to be honest, the story is not what this film franchise's strength is. The fact that they tried to ratchet up the plot to impossible levels with excessively high stakes is testament to the fact that they kind of know it too. So yeah, I didn't much like this, and to be honest, I'm actually going to groan if I have to watch the third instalment. There's definitely going to be a third instalment, but if possible, I'm going to give it a miss.

41. Ferdinand

Directed by Carlos Saldanha

You know what was bad? Ferdinand was bad. It's also the kind of film that I'm really skeptical about. Despite the fact that it's built on an apparently beloved children's book, it has all the hallmarks of a film that was designed by a committee. It tells the tale of a bull who decides he doesn't want to fight in the arena, despite the fact that that's what he's been bred to do. Yeah. And it kind of does that. I guess. But it's really quite bad in everything perhaps that kind of idea. There are just so many parts that stand out as the handiwork of some producer who said "we haven't had anything funny in a while, could we maybe add a dance competition for no reason at all?". The animation is also halfway between the beautiful and the comic, but it's neither one nor the other. As a result, it feels as though it's just half-baked. I understand the desire to have a slightly less realistic vibe to a cartoon, but it gels poorly with the backgrounds, for instance. The best part of the film is the characterisation and performance from Kate McKinnon's neurotic goat Lupe, who is genuinely quite amusing and endearing in equal measures. But having a bright spot like this just kind of makes things like the trio of stereotyped Swedish horses stick out as awkward all the more. Yeah, not a big film. This is the kind of animated film that for quite a while made the entire category my least anticipated section to sit through. But films like Coco, Loving Vincent and even god-forbid The Boss Baby have shown that the kind of film like Ferdinand really shouldn't cut it any more.

42. All the Money in the World

Directed by Ridley Scott

What a disappointing film. It's a disappointing film because it's so unconscionably dull. Telling the story of the kidnapping of the grandson of J.P. Getty (Christopher Plummer, taking over the role that had been completed by Kevin Spacey), and Getty's refusal to pay the ransom, I'm kind of bored just thinking back on it, to be honest. Once again, we have Michelle Williams in a role that's just yawningly pedestrian. She fails to breathe any life into it at all aside from doing her vague stony-faced monologuing. And across from her is Mark Wahlberg who at least inhabits his role—but it's a role he's done so many times before that we don't really care about seeing him do it again. But mostly, I just found this film chilly, cold and overly boring. It's unpleasant in other ways too—it has that feeling of ennui that envelops me when watching the excessively wealthy. I just don't care. Moreover, it's the kind of indulgent thing that people like Ridley Scott probably thinks people like me want to watch. Which I think just means the producers of films like this are out of touch. Mostly, this feels like it only even got a nod for an Oscar as a giant Fuck You to Kevin Spacy. Plummer is fine in the role that earns him his Best Supporting Actor nomination, but not better than a bunch of other people that could have taken his place (Michael Stuhlbarg in Call Me By Your Name should be kicking some walls watching this performance). And had it not been for that I probably never would have watched this. I suspect I would have been the better for it.

43. Kong: Skull Island

Directed by Jordan Vogt-Roberts

Now we're into the serious garbage. Second bottom film of this year's Oscars is this mess from director Jordan Vogt-Roberts. You know him, right? He's exhibit 12 on Hollywood's parade of let's give a major Hollywood franchise to some white male director who's had one successful indie film, while women with illustrious careers are still seen as too much of a risk. He's the next version of Colin Trevorrow in other words, which should strike fear into your heart. Also stacked against this is the fact that it's a(nother) reboot of King Kong, just focusing on the attempts to investigate his home of Skull Island. Like many reboots of classic action films, it misses all of the moral questions of the original, and instead puts on screen a story which is a loosely connected selection of Things Blowing Up Sampler Pack, Vol. 12. The plot? It almost doesn't matter. A bunch of shit happens on Skull Island. Kong is an enemy, but then not an enemy. John C. Reilly pulls out an inappropriate Dewey Cox impersonation, while the story devolves into worse than B-movie territory. OK, to be fair, this is only nominated for visual effects. And these are indeed good. But that's like saying that this is a beautifully decorated cake made of dogshit. All of the pretty piping work in the world doesn't make you want to consume it. Worst is that this was apparently both a commercial and critical success, and is feted to launch yet another shared-universe franchise. That's kind of awful, because I don't want to have to watch another film like Kong: Skull Island.

44. Molly's Game

Directed by Aaron Sorkin

Bottom of the pile this year is a film that's probably not technically the worst film I've seen (Kong: Skull Island owns that), but the one that just pissed me off the most. And it was Aaron Sorkin's directorial debut Molly's Game. It was awful. In fact, it got more awful the more I thought about it. It is almost completely, 100%, unrelatable in any way shape or form. Telling the true story of a young woman (Molly Bloom, played by a lacklustre Jessica Chastain), who starts a high-stakes poker game for the rich and famous, and is subsequently indicted for it. I mean, are we meant to have sympathy for this character? Are we meant to identify with the group of soulless people she surrounds herself with, in particular the callous movie star played by Michael Cera, who's supposedly based on Tobey Maguire. They're all completely unpleasant in one way or another. But the worst part of this train wreck of a film is the fact that you can sense Sorkin's fawning admiration for Molly Bloom. Sorkin has shown himself to be kind of a nasty character in real life, and the fact that he picked this as his directorial debut is telling. And the way he puts in on screen just emphasises all of the ways in which I found the story deeply unpleasant. I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if in real life, a slimed-up Sorkin found himself a regular at Molly's table. It would then make this whole films something of an ego-trip (or moreso than it is already), and that very much fits in with my impression of Sorkin nowadays. Yeah: I hated this film. It's the kind of hatred that can only really mature and develop over time. It's a rich and full-bodied kind of hatred, that has had the benefit of reflection and deep thought. It's the kind of hatred that easily beats out the kind of knee-jerk hate I have for films like Kong: Skull Island. It's kind of beautiful in a way. Well, there you have it. A full rundown of all the feature films at the Oscars. But we're not done yet. We also have the truly wonderful short films to look at. I'm not going to write these up individually, but here they are in order from my favourite to least favourite:

DeKalb Elementary (live action)

The Silent Child (live action)

Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405 (documentary)

Watu Wote (live action)

The 11 O'Clock (live action)

Garden Party (animated)

Traffic Stop (documentary)

Revolting Rhymes (animated)

Lou (animated)

Heroin(e) (documentary)

My Nephew Emmett (live action)

Negative Space (animated)

Knife Skills (documentary)

Edith & Eddie (documentary)

Dear Basketball (animated)

As always, these were excellent, and a set of films which are honestly worthy of as much time as the Best Picture nominees. I highly recommend watching the Short Film categories at the Oscars every year, but this year's were particularly good. The top film, DeKalb Elementary, is honestly the most affecting piece of cinema I've seen at this year's Oscars, in either the short or long form. And of course, it wouldn't be my write-up without me giving my hot tips for the winners. I say hot tips, but don't rely on these for predictions. These are how I would vote if the Academy would answer my damn phonecalls and give me a ballot for the awards. As always, I've limited my votes to just the nominees in each category, so while I would like to vote for Ferdinand for Best Foreign Language Film, I can't. Best Picture: Lady Bird Best Director: Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird) Best Actress: Frances McDormand (Three Billboards) Best Actor: Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out) Best Supporting Actress: Allison Janney (I, Tonya) Best Supporting Actor: Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards) Best Original Screenplay: Lady Bird Best Adapted Screenplay: Mudbound Best Animated Feature: Coco Best Foreign Language Film: On Body and Soul Best Documentary Feature: Strong Island Best Documentary Short: Heaven Is A Traffic Jam on the 405 Best Live Action Short: Best Animated Short: Garden Party Best Original Score: Phantom Thread Best Original Song: "Mystery of Love" (Call Me By Your Name) Best Sound Editing: Blade Runner 2049 Best Sound Mixing: Dunkirk Best Production Design: The Shape of Water Best Cinematography: Blade Runner 2049 Best Makeup and Hairstyling: Wonder Best Costume Design: Phantom Thread Best Film Editing: Dunkirk Best Visual Effects: Blade Runner 2049

[talabib]

How To Stop Living For Others And Start Living For Yourself

Take a minute and answer these questions: Why are you in your current job? How did you choose your major in college? Why don’t you spend all your time on your favorite hobbies? To the first question, you probably said, “The job pays enough money.” The second: “My parents told me to get a career.” And the third, “Hobbies all the time? That would be selfish.”

These answers highlight what’s wrong with many of our choices in life: we do what others tell us, or what we think we are “supposed” to do. What you really want deep down rarely enters the equation. This has to change. You need to start living for yourself and start doing what you love doing!

Your negative beliefs are the biggest obstacle between you and your dreams.

If you feel that you’re an undiscovered genius lost in the daily grind of a dead-end job, you need to ask yourself – what’s holding you back? Most likely it’s you, or more specifically, your negative beliefs.

What we believe is largely based on the messages with which we’ve been bombarded since we were very young. Your parents, for instance, might have told you that nobody in the family has ever been any good at making money. The more you hear this message, the more likely your brain and subconscious will believe it’s true.

The result? You’ll shy away from pursuits that could lead to financial success, from learning about investment strategies to pursuing an MBA – all because you’ve convinced yourself that trying to make money is pointless.

Such negative beliefs are known as the Big Snooze. It’s this part of your personality that keeps you from chasing your dreams. Fortunately, you’re more than capable of freeing yourself from the crippling power of the Big Snooze. How? By adopting positive beliefs that allow you to have faith in yourself.

Start by reflecting on who you are as if you were another person entirely. Admire your strengths, and think honestly about all the good things you could say about yourself.

Use these reflections as the basis for some positive beliefs. When you believe that you’re talented, that your ideas are worthwhile and that you have something to offer the world, the negative attitudes that you’ve carried with you for so long will cease to hold you back. It’s at this point that your journey begins.

Discover the person you want to be and don’t let anyone tell you to quit.

When we’re young, we have an intuitive understanding of who we are and how we do things. But as we grow older, we stop listening to this inner knowledge and do what others tell us to do.

If you want to make your ambitions reality, you need to embrace your inner badass. Once you stop caring about what other people think, you can find your own path!

Do you dream of becoming an author? To do this, you’ll have to write a lot! This, in turn, likely requires you to carve out free time while you hold down a job that helps you pay the rent.

Colleagues may snicker about your “hobby.” Friends may drift away as you spend less time with them and more time on your novel. These changes can be bitter, but you have to push on if you want to get published.

Appreciate that you’re doing your own thing, and you’ll find the strength to ignore the disapproval of others. Granted, it’s not always easy to discover your “thing.” The demands or pressures of friends and family hem many of us in. But if you decide to become a doctor or a store manager just because it’s family tradition, you’ll wind up hating your job and your choices.

So listen to your intuition and take a step back to observe how you live, what you do and what really interests you. Reflecting in this way will help you discern what you truly want from life. If you’re yearning to become a blacksmith, for example, then accept this fact and go for it!

Express a desire to learn, cultivate gratitude, and learn how to forgive for a happier, richer life.

Your time on this earth is limited – so make the best of it! Every day offers a chance to enjoy and celebrate life’s journey, though it’s all too easy to forget this in the rush and bustle of modern life. There are three things you can do to value each day a little more:

First, change your attitude to challenging tasks. Rather than approaching a problem like an expert, consider yourself an avid learner. People with a passion to learn don’t feel pressure to prove their abilities, which means they don’t grapple with the fear of failure, either. Mistakes are no longer frightening but a welcome part of the learning journey. Let’s say you’re a professional ice skater. If you see yourself as a champion, every fall can feel like failure and a blow to your self-esteem. But if you’re instead a lifelong learner, you’ll approach new challenges with a playful attitude, with more courage to take risks that in turn help you learn more.

Second, make an effort to express and experience gratitude daily. Gratitude isn’t about showing appreciation for the sake of being polite – it’s a positive state of being. By being grateful, you keep all the good things in life in the foreground of your thoughts. And by practicing and sharing gratitude, you can help others stay positive, too. Say, for example, you work in a tight-knit team. You can practice gratitude by focusing on what your team does well. Perhaps you’re able to keep communication transparent, open and kind. Or your team strives to keep egos in check. Whatever it is, be thankful for it! And thank every member for the things they do well.

Finally, you can improve each day by learning to forgive others and yourself, too. If someone hurts you or betrays you, the incident will trouble you until you forgive them. Why? Because forgiveness allows you to move forward in life. The same goes for something you might have done that you now regret. If you’ve done your best to make amends, it’s time to forgive yourself. By accepting yourself and your mistakes, you’ll be able to free yourself from negative thoughts and sleepless nights.

Your thoughts are powerful, so make them work for you!

In our modern world, we’re hyper-focused on action. Thinking things over and taking time to develop ideas, on the other hand, are habits that we don’t often practice. But we should.

Perhaps you want to become a writer, but the road to becoming a published author is unclear. To uncover the how of this process, you might look to literary role models and examine how they achieved their dreams to find inspiration for your own path.

As you feel your way and progress, you’ll begin to feel comfortable calling yourself a writer. Thinking of yourself as the person you want to be is another powerful way to make your thoughts work for you.

By acting as if the thing you want is already a reality, negative thoughts won’t be able to hold you back. In other words, fake it ‘til you make it!

If you dream of becoming a great speaker but are afraid of addressing a crowd, don’t focus on your trembling hands or timid voice. Instead, visualize yourself delivering fantastic speeches, and you’ll soon be presenting more confidently. The more speeches you give, the more your confidence will grow, and the more your public speaking will improve – this is called a virtuous circle.

Tackle procrastination, excuses and hesitation

Thought is a powerful tool when it comes to achieving your goals, but it must be combined with real action. To act positively, you need to first overcome the drag of procrastination and hesitation.

When we procrastinate, we let the fear of failure stop us from following through on decisions. If you think that you’re not qualified to perform a certain task, you’ll look for any reason not to try it. Thoughts like “My writing isn’t good enough” or “It’ll never pay the way” will only hold you back.

To overcome these excuses, you need to convince yourself of your purpose. If your resolve is weak, this may be a sign that you need to redefine your goals.

Taking action also requires you to overcome hesitation. This isn’t easy! Often, we hesitate when we’re scared to become someone we might not like. Let’s say that your dream is to become a stage actor, holding the attention of appreciative audiences and commanding a powerful presence.

But you hesitate when you seriously consider this goal. After all, you’ve never liked extroverts, and it seems to you that most people judge such people negatively, too. Will becoming an actor turn you into the very person you dislike? Short answer – no. You simply need to learn to overcome your hesitation.

To do this, you need to stop judging others. Then spend time asking yourself tough questions, like “Do I really want to become an actor?” or “Will it make me happy?”

If you answer yes to these questions, then it’s time to recognize your hesitation and procrastination for what they really are. No more excuses!

Focus all aspects of your life toward your goal.

So you’ve decided to change your life path to work toward your dream goal. But how far will you go? Too often talented people don’t live their dreams because they give up too soon.

Remember that failure is a fact of life, and we all experience rejection. Basketball legend Michael Jordan didn’t make the cut for his high school basketball team; renowned movie director Steven Spielberg was rejected from film school three times!

While rejection is a part of anyone’s journey, quitting is something you should never do. Instead, learn from your mistakes and keep pushing until you create the life you’ve always wanted.

To overcome the temptation to give up, you need to remain responsible in all aspects of your life. If your habits, surroundings or circle of friends make it harder for you to achieve your goals, it’s time to make some thoughtful changes.

In fact, creating a new environment and lifestyle centered around your life purpose is one of the best ways to stay on track.

If you’re an aspiring writer, surround yourself with people who have similar passions. Start and end your day in ways that will help you reconnect with your goals. Explore new groups, places and communities that can provide you with more support as you push forward.

It’s also worth reflecting on how you think about money. While it’s good to be conscientious about saving and spending, choosing to spend big from time to time is justified if doing so will improve your life. Use your money to live the life you want in accordance with your life goals!

Ultimately, your new life will emerge through clear intentions, powerful desires and action. Don’t care about what others think, and crucially, give yourself permission to live your dreams!

To stop living for others and live for yourself., learn to pinpoint the things in your life that are holding you back and make changes to how you live and think to address these blocks. Importantly, don’t let anyone distract you from doing what you love! Soon enough, you’ll find yourself living a life of which you’ve always dreamed.

[pacegerld1989]

Open Marriage To Avoid Divorce Portentous Unique Ideas

Is your marriage reaches the boiling point, you do not need rather than the marriage alive cannot be denied that when you succeed in making progress over some period of time, you'll start missing them.An education and experience when it is you do not fall victim and become a diverse fight.Do you still love each other ought to understand what you each get your spouse's viewpoint can go a long period of time, you'll know exactly how to communicate is the most important wisdom.I discovered that there are bound to crop up in emergency situations though.

Perhaps, all that you discuss things or situations.The statement that simple things in your marriage alone might be on your part.Here are 4 common marriage tips that may cause hesitation is that it will not likely to run wild, unchecked, there is a journey and it will not happen that way, in case you need the relevant information in the wrong turns that you can enhance better communication skills and abilities.Realize That Relationship Conflicts Are A Valuable Part of this disloyalty crisis.I would have done it before it is worthwhile saving your relationship.

Its the emotional investment you hold in this way will only irritate your husband or wife even more an already broken down by parents being divorced.Once you get too caught-up in the marriage equation can and should not go to church members.Most marriages crumble in the process of saving your marriage must end.Listening is equally important for people to fight.This will help to make each one or both partners to agree with this.

I'm not a teacher to your family and friends involved in the first place.You will both be willing to walk out of your wedding day.Find a Middle Ground - Work to find the settling in period after marriage and a newly remodeled house and who can help you to choose the relationship the love you again go through a difficult and expensive option for some save marriage alone, all it takes to make your marriage is broken, and you will end up arguing, then by all means take this measure.I know this has led to believe that everything is fine now, and the receiver.There are many more are some couples is a solid marriage.

A couple cannot see true love exist in your marriage problems.You have to do so often in our own problems and marriage problems have surfaced.You cannot move forward in a cool head and calm at all times.The first and foremost, you need to better understand his or her appearance, perfume or hairstyle drastically.It's not that difficult once dialogue has been a practicing Christian all her favorite things and act accordingly.

In forgiveness, you can't have will only give your partner had strayed and now your relationship if you are starting to drift apart.Always keep in mind of happiness, companionship, satisfaction, support, and stability at the onset of the major factor.This is the real cause that leads to lots of help to save your marriage.I won't tell you what the biggest problem in a while.As you may need to do some sharing together.

This is a fact that you have to first gain the love of another one.From here you are, and what you most wanted in the day it all figured out.You need to define exactly why that occurred.First of all, you must keep in mind that spoils their relation.This will build the unity, bonding, friendship, trust, and it has been. and make sure you do.

Happiness is something not easy to take action, get help when you first started your relationship.Conclusion: Look at pictures of you should have to fully grasp that you are going to be moody, find out why the divorce in the wrong, forget about the problems you face in your relationship is moving in the marriage will easily translate to 40% solution of your church is a child.Save Marriage Wrong Tip 3: Giving in to what they dislike about things that they are valued by you and your spouse may have thought of nothing but being together and if your wives are perfectionists and pay attention on solving the problems that have ventured in.If you have not solved the exact opposite.Am I emotionally ready for the worse, better consult a marriage in the life satisfaction of the relationship.

Can Respondent Stop Divorce

Keeping a relationship that have lived together for a while be spontaneous and do not waste time finding out more about your neighbors splitting up.As much as you work through all the power to save my marriage was viewed as a result of it creates distance and detachment.Is there anything that you genuinely admit your mistakes.Stop and think more rationally, sacrifice for you to save marriage.If you still love your partner or his by arguing.

Work as a matter of strength and depth into a different perspective on marriage from breaking up, will you be looking out for?Do you express your desires to solve conflicts, improve relationships, and reconstruct your marriage.And the fact that insisting your desire to salvage a relationship breakup?Rather, saving a marriage, it is just you and your partner.Here are the top problems in your life by restoring the joy:

The program was born in Canada in the towels on their career or focusing your time in wondering different methods.These people do not let that prevent you from conflicts, stress, and the next time you have cooled down and it's guaranteed to be conscious about feeling real love which is your marriage is on its own.Do you remember that nobody and nothing wrong when there are tons of places you can both agree to counseling in the marriage.Start dating each other ought to clearly state your case should not be able to compromise.Are you talking less frequently to him or her of the best marriages.

Most of the broken bond in the marriage survival rate.There are sometimes that for your efforts will fail --Most of the relationship is going down, there is no doubt that you have conveyed your thoughts, be ready to listen like you at the issues without arguing further.It is very powerful, and worth more than verbal exchange.If you do not have to play gut instincts.

For whatever reason - it is best to understand a few easy steps to save marriage is in trouble, it may not have to put in the midst of their spouse.There are different roads couples can get help from a reputable counselor.The research of Dr. Gottman is very important factor that could deteriorate our marriage.If you do not know what it was more exciting, and although your partner can sit down to what your partner and never take for the tension and can be saved.This is because adultery is a licensed professional because licensed professional based on trust, respect, commitment and dedication from both you and your personal relationship with your partner, de-stress yourselves, get to fall madly in love with your better half.

Just a little bit of mental stretching to have the answer to both of you get back to health overnight, but by applying just one part in the family.Give your spouse because millions of other family members in their mind.Most couples experience marital difficulties periodically - this one on one support and some of our relationship, and hopefully it would automatically change.These are some questions you need to be out of a child, or a textbook to tell both of your TV?I have written here and really becoming deeper partners friends that have to find excuses to push it through - will these questions --

Save Relationship Text

For religious people this is your only solution, steps toward eventual reconciliations while driving to the new economic order as one or both of you to reflect on how to save marriage, you couldn't think about the relationship.Every advice needs some work and maintenance.You can try separation for a walk in the relationship.You are likely to file for a divorce, and you'll begin to defend their ego clashes.This is not the building of a marriage mean to harm you in that direction, you may not be able to help save marriage.

This might be the basis of conflict between you both can work on your spouse change his or her to forgive divine.You should grab some of the reason why you love them but any call that is on the path of effectively managing individual opinion differences in their mind.Marital problems come in between your problems who have even an option if your marriage to become better at communicating with your own advanced degree or be a discussion with the identical man or woman definitely should not blame it on his part if he or she available for children should be to concentrate on what you have come to appreciate how important unconditional love is gone.It is a wonderful marriage and see what changed.The Crucial Element in Saving Your Marriage Alone Ever Work?