#I really enjoyed their dynamic and we were deprived of more contact

[writeraraik]

The Harder They Fall: Trudy & Rufus 

“Loyalty is a virtue, Rufus, ‘til it ain’t.”

“You loyal to me?”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger (2016)

“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary. It's time for that to end.”

- Sebastian Junger,  Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging

The phenomenon of tribal solidarity is the subject of Sebastian Junger’s enthralling book, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. Junger offers a rich but unevenly researched patchwork of history, psychology, and anthropology to explore the deep appeal of the tribal culture throughout history. The result is less of a tour de force book that I would have expected from the likes of Sebastian Junger than an interesting and thought provoking read. Certainly it should be read by anyone interested in the human condition.

As a British ex-military veteran and a fan of Junger’s other books I naturally found it fascinating.The memory of my most recent tour in Afghanistan was still raw upon my return to Britain. Although the book really focuses on returning American army servicemen and their integration back into the American ‘tribe’ there were several themes that I and many others who had seen war could readily identify with.

“Tribe” is not a typical Junger book. He doesn’t tell one knockout story, as he did in the “The Perfect Storm,” which made him rich and famous, or as he did in “War,” which — along with his documentaries “Restrepo” and “Korengal” — established him as one of the world’s most mesmerising chroniclers of the Afghanistan war. Rather, he gives us an extended-play version of an article he wrote for for Vanity Fair — one that’s part ethnography, part history, part social science primer, part cri de coeur. Junger previously served as a war correspondent for Vanity Fair, embedding for long stretches at remote American outposts in Afghanistan’s frightful Korengal valley. This experience may help explain his interest in the intimate bonds that define tribal societies as well as the despair that can come from being wrenched out of a situation that makes those bonds necessary.

Junger’s premise is simple: Modern civilisation may be awesome, giving us unimaginable autonomy and material bounty. But it has also deprived us of the psychologically invaluable sense of community and interdependence that we hominids enjoyed for millions of years. It is only during moments of great adversity that we come together and enjoy that kind of fellowship — which may explain why, paradoxically, we thrive during those moments. (In the six months after Sept. 11, Junger writes, the murder rate in New York dropped by 40 percent, and the suicide rate by 20 percent.)

“I do miss something from the war,” Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic tells Sebastian Junger halfway through the book. Ahmetasevic is talking about the wartime closeness she shared with friends in a basement bomb shelter in besieged Sarajevo. “The love that we shared was enormous,” Ahmetasevic says. “I missed being close to people, I missed being loved in that way.”

The sentiment lies at the heart of Tribe, a book offering a surprising thesis about the ways humans have traded communal belonging for excessive safety.

Junger gets a considerable amount done in a quick 133 pages: Tribe posits a reason why white settlers found life among Native American tribes appealing, theorises about false PTSD claims among returned U.S. veterans, and conveys the author’s equality-minded view of how heroic behaviour varies between genders — all in addition to remarks on hitchhiking, attachment parenting, Junger’s dad’s opinion of military service, and more. It’s an awful lot of ground to cover in such a short book, and it’s inevitable that Tribe would either feel inchoate and sketched or else aggravatingly dense. Because Junger is an adventurous storyteller (rather than, say, an academic theoretician), he opts for the former.

It’s not necessarily a good thing. The book’s lightness makes it accessible, an easy entry point to weighty subject matter. But its concision can make Tribe feel breezy even as it discusses life and death — if not sometimes confusing.

As a former anthropology major, Mr. Junger takes a special interest in tribal life. He notes that a striking number of American colonists ran off to join Native American societies, but the reverse was almost never true. He describes the structure and values of hunter-gatherer groups, including the ones that lasted well into the 20th century, like the !Kung in the Kalahari.

Unfortunately, these parts of the book are also the dullest and most problematic. There’s a numbingly familiar quality to much of the social science research he cites. It is not exactly news that nations with large income disparities are less happy than those without them, or that group cooperation increases levels of oxytocin, the bonding hormone. He notes, for example, that American mothers in the 1970s had a level of skin-to-skin contact with their babies that traditional societies would consider criminally low. Fair enough. I wonder, though, if he realises that in saying this he’s crashing open the gate for every helicopter parenting (or attachment-parenting) demagogue out there? And that parents who actually have to go to work for a living - and therefore can’t have their babies pinned to their chests all day long for three years straight - will read these words and start rolling the eyes back in disbelief.

Though Junger cautions against romanticising tribal cultures, he sometimes does exactly that, and in ways that can be annoying.  Tribe aptly opens with Benjamin Franklin’s observation, decades before the American Revolution, that more than a few English settlers were “escaping into the woods” to join Indian society. Franklin noticed that emigration seemed to go from the civilised to the tribal, but rarely the other way around. White captives of the American Indians, for instance, often did not wish to be repatriated to colonial society. At this distance, it is simply astonishing that so many frontiersmen would have cast off the relative comforts of civilisation in favour an “empire wilderness” rife with Stone Age tribes that, as Junger notes, “had barely changed in 15,000 years.”

The small but significant flow of white men — they were mostly men — into the tree-line sat uncomfortably with those who stayed behind. Without indulging the modern temptation to romanticise what was a blood-soaked way of life, Junger hazards an explanation for the appeal of tribal culture. Western society was a diverse and dynamic but deeply alienating place. (Plus ça change…) This stood in stark contrast to native life, which was essentially classless and egalitarian. The “intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe” provided a high degree of autonomy — as long as it didn’t threaten the defence of the tribe, which was punishable by death — as well as a sense of belonging. Tribe is then essentially a critique of modern civilisation, beginning with Junger’s observation of the inexorable appeal of Native American way of life to early settlers (“The intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe held an appeal that the material benefits of Western civilisation couldn’t necessary compete with”).

“The question for Western society isn’t so much why tribal life might be so appealing - it seems obvious on the face of it - but why Western society is so unappealing.” Junger is making a provocative point, but he is no provocateur. He swiftly justifies this jarring idea:

On a material level it is clearly more comfortable and protected from the hardships of the natural world. But as societies become more affluent they tend to require more, rather than less, time and commitment by the individual, and it’s possible that many people feel that affluence and safety simply aren’t a good trade for freedom.

All of these points have been covered in other, heavier books. Jared Diamond’s The World Until Yesterday examines traditional tribal lifestyles’ usefulness in the present day. The entanglement of war with human closeness and purpose is the focus of Chris Hedges’s War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. (Both Hedges and Junger include the same anecdote, in fact, about a teenage couple in besieged Sarajevo, that dies, sniper-shot, on the banks of the Miljacka River.) Junger also briefly mentions the work of seminal disaster researcher Charles Fritz, noting that Fritz could find almost no examples of mass panic during large-scale disasters. This plays into his overarching point that difficult experiences can be unifying rather than shattering. The exact same studies by Fritz and fellow researchers — and that exact same, crucial point — are detailed in Rebecca Solnit’s brilliant A Paradise Built in Hell.

Junger uses these insights towards another point. “Because modern society has almost completely eliminated trauma and violence from everyday life, anyone who does suffer these things is deemed to be extraordinarily unfortunate,” he writes. “This gives people access to sympathy and resources but also creates an identity of victimhood that can delay recovery.” This is an important observation. It, too, resonates quite closely with previous work - in this case Harvard psychiatrist Judith Lewis Herman’s seminal book Trauma and Recovery, which remarks that “to hold traumatic reality in consciousness requires a social context that affirms and protects the victim and that joins victim and witness in a common alliance.”

At best what Junger tries to achieve, then, is to assemble parts of all those books into one slim volume. So much the better for the busy reader. Unfortunately, Junger’s quick look at violence, trauma, and modern anomie also omits important information from other books, and as a result ends up on shaky ground, failing to consider counterpoints or bring its own arguments to a close.

Junger in the second half of the book proceeds through an examination of how disastrous or violent circumstances can create similar human closeness, and includes a discussion of how our society’s distancing itself from such harsh conditions has inadvertently sharpened those events’ capacity to traumatise the people who endure them.

War is hell, so this scourge of loneliness may seem the inevitable price for those who fight in them. The second half of Tribe insists that this impression is gravely mistaken. “Studies from around the world show that recovery from war is heavily influenced by the society one belongs to,” Junger observes. Iroquois warriors, for instance, did not have to contend with much alienation because the line between warfare and normal Indian society was vanishingly thin. This is not to deny that the Iroquois were traumatised by combat, but it was generally acute PTSD, limited in duration and distress. Their trauma was ameliorated by the fact that the trauma was shared by the entire tribe.

War, then, for all of its brutality and ugliness, satisfies some of our deepest evolutionary yearnings for connectedness. Platoons are like tribes. They give soldiers a chance to demonstrate their valour and loyalty, to work cooperatively, to show utter selflessness.

Is it any wonder that so many of them say they miss the action when they come home?

Part of the takeaway from this book is that regarding military service as a source of permanent psychiatric disability is incorrect for most (American) soldiers. Junger includes a lengthy discussion of how the U.S. Veterans Administration mishandles former soldiers’ mental health issues, and how America’s cultural misunderstanding of war plays into that deleterious milieu. The information isn’t wrong per se, but what it has to do with the rest of the romanticising of foregone tribal way of life, etc., or why that necessitates anything more than the 2015 Vanity Fair article from which the book sprung is never quite made clear. Worse, Junger says that the low rate of combat engagement among U.S. soldiers means their diagnoses of post-traumatic stress disorder often aren’t real - but he fails to consider that some soldiers develop PTSD from military sexual trauma, or from other adverse experiences outside of combat or before their enlistment.

Worse, he seems to misunderstand the diagnosis entirely. Here, as in the Vanity Fair article, Junger describes his own bout with what he calls “classic short-term PTSD,” departing from this insight to further dissect trauma and the ways modern society misunderstands it. The problem is, there really is no such thing as “short-term PTSD.” It sounds like what Junger had was post-traumatic stress, a weeks - or months - long psychological adaptation to adverse events (in his case, exposure to war) that typically resolves on its own.

Although psychological care can sometimes be relevant, most mental health professionals don’t regard this as an illness. (Tellingly, Junger’s approach to his diagnosis involved little more than an acquaintance’s ad hoc comment at “a family picnic.”) Post-traumatic stress disorder is only diagnosable after three to six months, does not often go away on its own, and can endure for a lifetime if untreated. The implication that Junger’s case is typical PTSD is misleading - and to some extent, calls his conclusions into question.

The problems in his argument go even deeper. “In Bosnia — as it is now — we don’t trust each other anymore; we became really bad people,” Ahmetasevic tells Junger. “We didn’t learn the lesson of the war, which is how important it is to share everything you have with human beings close to you.” Junger’s thesis is that other cultures (the “Stone-Age tribes” white settlers once joined) did learn that lesson. But he assumes that violence is innate to humans and necessary for human closeness, never parsing evidence that it is not. And he doesn’t examine what this Bosnian journalist means by “really bad,” and how becoming so after the war might have arisen directly from the painful, long-lasting effects of the severe trauma Junger doesn’t quite seem to believe in.

If there is any doubt on this point, consider the alarming rates of PTSD among our warrior class, and the desire among many of them to return to war — a subject on which Junger has been at the leading edge of the public discussion. When combat vets return home, the alienation and aimlessness of modern society aggravates their psychological traumas and prompts them to yearn for the brotherhood of combat. It’s not for nothing that a recent book on post-traumatic stress is entitled The Evil Hours.

Many soldiers actually miss war. “Adversity,” he writes, “often leads people to depend more on one another, and that closeness can produce a kind of nostalgia for the hard times.” Soldiers go from a close-knit group in which everyone has a purpose to a society in highly individualised lifestyles are “deeply brutalising to the human spirit.” Soldiers who come home to situations in which there is no social support from family and community are more likely to suffer PTSD than others.

Thanking veterans for their service aggravates the problem, in Junger’s opinion. “If anything, these token acts only deepen the chasm between the military and the civilian population by highlighting the fact that some people serve their country but the vast majority don’t.” Tickets to games and other such perquisites can incentivise veterans to see themselves as victims, making their reintegration into society much more difficult.

What they really need is the one thing that will make them feel like valuable members of society: jobs. In their tribe-like military units, they each had a specific function without which the group could not perform. The worst thing that can happen to them when they return is to feel useless, marginalised. The suicide rate in America mirrors the unemployment rate, Junger points out. The best protection against devastating depression is meaningful work.

“Ex-combatants shouldn’t be seen - or be encouraged to see themselves - as victims,” writes Junger. Lifelong disability payments for PTSD, which is treatable and usually not chronic, actually debilitate veterans, Junger claims. In war, the passivity of victimhood can be deadly, he explains. Turning veterans into victims when they return is not only confusing but also destructive because it erases their sense of self. Instead of sympathy, “veterans need to feel that they’re just as necessary and productive back in society as they were on the battlefield.”

Of course much of this book is really around the American experience of war and the experiences of American veterans returning home. So some points don’t quite stick with either British or European experiences. For example neither British or other European societies thank veterans for their service as a matter of course. Of course there are special days to commemorate major war events and even an armed forces day but on a general day to day basis one doesn’t go up to a military person to thank them for their service probably because British and European servicemen and their service don’t enjoy a privileged standing. Respected and admired yes, but not deified. How British and other European countries take care of their returning veterans is hard to detail as the experience varies in terms of disability allowances and other measures. Certainly a misunderstanding of mental trauma or PTSD of returning veterans has led sometimes to a criminal mismanaging of taking care of those most affected. Again, it varies from country to country.  

Contemporary America is a considerably less consolidated society than it used to be. Cultural diffusion and economic stratification have increased the isolation felt by those who have borne the heat and burden of battle. I won’t a forget photograph shown to me by an older brother who had served with distinction in Iraq. He made a few American friends from the US soldiers serving there alongside and one day he was shown something that captured the dark humour and cynicism of war. The photo captured a graffito scribbled on a wall in Ramadi, Iraq, that read: “America is not at war. The Marine Corps is at war. America is at the mall.”

Multiple studies demonstrate that “a person’s chance of getting chronic PTSD is in great part a function of their experiences before going to war.” The relationship between combat and trauma seems to be a murky one. For instance, “combat veterans are, statistically, no more likely to kill themselves than veterans who were never under fire.” Junger says that even a significant number of Peace Corps volunteers report suffering severe depression after their return home, especially if their host country was in a state of emergency when they did. In Junger’s telling, particular burdens endured by socially disadvantaged Americans - from a poor educational background to chaotic broken family life - can make a candidate especially susceptible to PTSD. Indeed, these risk factors “are nearly as predictive of PTSD as the severity of the trauma itself.”

The decline of social order and solidarity has contributed to a loss of what researchers call “social resilience.” This has simultaneously supplied more potential candidates for PTSD and impaired society’s ability to help them recover. The United States must place a premium on boosting its levels of social resilience. Americans should no longer be content to simply thank veterans for their service; sporting events are not places of healing. Nor should they seek to outsource the responsibility to the federal government. The solution lies closer to home, in the mediating institutions of civil society — from families to churches to community and professional associations. I think this echoes the views of quite a few veterans in my experience with them.

More sensitively and perhaps controversially, ex-combatants shouldn’t be regarded, or encouraged to regard themselves, as victims. This I also agree with. America is still a tremendously affluent country, Junger writes, that can afford to perpetually care for a victim class of veterans dependent on government largesse, “but the vets can’t.” They have generally performed exemplary service for which they should be honoured, and they must know that their service is not over.

Next, Junger says, veterans (like most social animals) depend upon a sense of purpose that begins with a job and a position in society. Here the “hire vets” initiatives and retraining programs are necessary but insufficient. The traditional means of securing social resilience has been egalitarian social provision. Individualist America may blanch at that notion, but it should at least act to build a more open economy and inclusive culture where individuals can reliably advance by merit and develop social capital.

Not being an American I don’t wish to speak out of turn but as a veteran and especially in speaking with other British and foreign veterans I think Junger is on the right path. Victimhood and a lack of purpose are the unseen enemy that the returning veteran will continue to fight when he or she comes home.

To all this I would also that - arguably perhaps in America especially - a revival of national cohesion is needed if - as a nation that pays lip service to honour the sacrifices of its servicemen - it is to arrest the full savagery of battlefield trauma. This will require what Edmund Burke called “a revolution in sentiments, manners and moral opinions.”

One clue about how to achieve this can be found in the early pages of Tribe, when Junger tells an affecting anecdote about his father. Not long after the end of the Vietnam War, the author had received a Selective Service registration form in the mail, in case the United States government ever needed to conscript him into the military. When he announced that, if drafted, he would refuse to serve on political grounds, his father’s reaction caught him off guard. Although sternly opposed to the war in Indo-China, Junger’s father insisted that American soldiers had “saved the world” from fascism during World War II and many never came home. Junger writes;

“‘You don’t owe your country nothing,’ I remember him telling me. ‘You owe it something, and depending on what happens, you might owe it your life.’” This did not oblige anyone to enlist in an unjust war - “in his opinion, protesting an immoral war was just as honorable and necessary as fighting a moral one” - but it did mean that the country had just claims on its citizens, and refusing to sign a registration form constituted a dereliction of duty.

Year after year, Americans hear arguments for taking the stink out of their sulphurous political rhetoric. It would be better for congressional productivity. It would be better for our international dignity. It would be better for their national literacy, their local advocacy, their general civility and the future etiquette of their children. But the one argument I had not heard, until reading Junger’s book is that they should clean up their act for the sake of their returning troops.

Junger never makes this point explicitly. What he writes, simply, is this: After months of combat, during which “soldiers all but ignore differences of race, religion and politics within their platoon,” they return to the United States to find “a society that is basically at war with itself. People speak with incredible contempt about - depending on their views - the rich, the poor, the educated, the foreign-born, the president or the entire U.S. government.” Soldiers go from a world in which they’re united, interconnected and indispensable to one in which they’re isolated, without purpose, and bombarded with images of politicians and civilians screaming at one another on TV and cable.

It’s a formula for deep despair. “Today’s veterans often come home to find that, although they’re willing to die for their country,” he writes, “they’re not sure how to live for it.”

With that, Mr. Junger has raised one of the most provocative ideas for bitterly divided Americans to grapple with without mentioning a single political candidate, or even a president, by name.

In this age of social and economic fragmentation, many of America’s disadvantaged fellow citizens have begun to chafe against an elite class - left and right - that often behaves as if it were exempted from the national compact. Junger only hints at the necessary leap beyond a social-psychological view to a political-economic analysis. He writes, "As great a sacrifice as soldiers make, American workers arguably make a greater one…. [w]orking in industries that have a mortality rate equivalent to most units in the US military." He suggests, "It may be worth considering whether middle-class American life - for all its material good fortune - has lost some essential sense of unity that might otherwise discourage alienated men from turning apocalyptically violent."

Nobody then should be surprised if the ranks of disaffected citizens – not least those who have borne arms in our name and in their defence - ultimately decide that the sensibility of the tribe is superior to their own.

As a proud Brit who is guilty at times of poking fun at America but borne out of sincere fondness and respect for America I do sincerely hope during these turbulent times that they are capable of coming together and recognising their tribal identity is to be Americans first and other labels (liberal or conservative or red state or blue state) whilst not inconsequential are not important enough to undermine the primary American tribal identity. They did it so marvellously after 9/11, but that feeling as we all know soon dissipated. It can’t afford to be a house divided from within when there are predatory wolves pawing at the door (I’m looking at you Russia and China). Junger correctly writes America is a strong nation, “The only one who can destroy us, is, well, us…..which means that the ultimate terrorist strategy would be to just leave us alone.”

Tribe is an important, thought-provoking book that encourages Americans to see its veterans and American society in a fresh light. Policymakers of all political stripes would do well to consider Junger’s arguments, for as long as they fail to fully integrate returning soldiers, everyone will continue to pay a high toll for their incredible service and sacrifice.

Junger’s “Tribe” even if it was written in 2016, remains relevant and serves as an important wake-up call. Let’s hope we all don’t sleep through the alarm. But this too brief and too scattershot book with an important message won’t get us all the way there. There is an old South African Zulu proverb, ‘If you want to go fast, go on your own. If you want to go further, go together’. It’s up to all of us.

[carriagelamp]

I read more books this month than I anticipated. I should probably wait before doing a February book round up, but I already feel like I’m struggling to decide which ones to cut from my list so I’m doing it this weekend instead of next. If I read much next week I’ll bump ‘em up into March’s round up

Asterix and the Missing Scroll / Chieftain’s Daughter

I got the last two “new” Asterix books out of the library so I could officially say I had read them all. Over all my opinion is… they’re fine! None of these would ever become one of my favourites, but they’re all fine stories. The art is good, it is completely in-line with the original, and the stories are… fine. I liked The Missing Scroll quite a bit more than The Chieftain’s Daughter but I never find a ~hurr hurr teenagers~ plotline that interesting, whereas I do enjoy seeing Romans get chased down by unicorns so that’s probably not surprising. There’s some spark I can’t put my finger on that the new Asterix books just seem to be missing though… a bit of humour or cleverness or something. Still, they’re fine reads if you’ve been hungry for more Asterix and I’m glad I read them. (Though the library gave me the American translation of The Chieftain’s Daughter, something I didn’t realize until I started reading and realized that this is wrong??? I’ve been reading these books since I could read and I know this is wrong??? What the hell is happening??? The I realized the publisher was different and I simmered in fury the whole time I read it — WHY ARE YOU CHANGING NAMES AND WORD CHOICES IN A WELL ESTABLISHED SERIES THAT ALREADY HAS AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION YOU ANIMALS WHY ARE YOU DUMBING DOWN THE LANGUAGE AAAUGH

The Bride Was A Boy

This one was cute! The Bride Was A Boy is an autobiographical manga written by a transwoman recounting her experience with transitioning, meeting her boyfriend, and eventually getting married. It’s mostly done in a 4-panel style and is interspersed with lots of information about the LGBT community, particularly in Japan. A lot of it was stuff I was already familiar with, but I still found it adorable and a very worthwhile read. it would be a fantastic book for young queer people who are looking for more of an introduction into international queer space

Cul de Sac: Children At Play

Cul de Sac is just a weird, fun newspaper comic series about the children who live in a small neighbourhood. It fully taps into the children-as-semi-feral-chaos-agents, and there’s something hilariously nostalgic about the whole thing. Lots of times when stories try to portray children there’s always something… wrong about it, something that doesn’t mesh with true childhood, but in this comic I can see glimpses of my grimy, dirty-covered self as a preschooler running around the pages. I would definitely recommend trying them!

The Cremation of Sam McGee

I reread The Cremation of Sam McGee and The Shooting of Dan McGrew and man, they don’t stop being buckwild. These are two really famous Canadian poems that were then illustrated by equally famous Canadian artist Ted Harrison. Harrison’s style is gorgeous and distinct and given what strangely grisly stories these poems are they fit the mood perfectly. Everything feels just a little tilted and wrong and unsettling. If you enjoy an occasional poem (especially ones that are super fun to read out loud) and haven’t read these before, I would recommend them! Or do what my teachers did, and read Sam Gee to a young child in your life and watch them be baffled and concerned and horrified.

There are strange things done / in the midnight sun / by the men who moil for gold...

The Gryphon’s Lair

The second book of the Royal Guide to Monster Slaying series written by Kelley Armstrong; I’ve been eagerly awaiting this book! It’s a very cool fantasy series because it really leans into environmental stewardship and the importance of studying animals and conservation so you can find ways to live alongside a healthy ecosystem. In this book Rowan is officially accepted as the Royal Monster Hunter, which means a whole new set of trials and burdens. She has to contend with a baby gryphon that is becoming increasingly large and dangerous, plotting family members, doubt about her abilities, a potential curse, and a daunting quest deep into the mountains in order to set things right. If you’re looking for some very gentle high fantasy, this series delivers.

Hogan’s Heroes comics

What to say here. Anyone following this blog has suffered the knowledge that I’ve been rewatching Hogan’s Heroes lately. When I found out that there was a short-lived, shitty comic series in the 60s? Of course I had to hunt them down. And so I’ve read them! And they sure were a shitty comic series from the 60s! They were, shall we say, of wildly varying quality. Some were actually really funny (like #5, it easily had the best art and best jokes imho), others were a slog, and most were fine and amusing enough to read the whole way through but not much more.

If you don’t know what Hogan’s Heroes is about: it was a 1960s sitcom that took place in a WWII POW camp, in which the Allied prisoners trapped there had a massive, complex sabotage/spy ring right underneath the camp. The whole show is about constantly outwitting the bumbling Germans while keeping up the pretense that they’re all just normal prisoners. The show is hilariously funny and I would recommend that, even if I can’t say the same for the comics unless you’re like me and are just really thirsty for more content...

Magic Misfits: The Fourth Suit (Ripley)

The final book of Neil Patrick Harris’ middle grade series, The Magic Misfits. In this fourth book, the group is fragmented and forced to meet in secret to avoid notice from the mysterious and powerful Kalagan whose cruel machinations have already turned the quiet little town on its ears, putting people’s lives in peril and destroy Leila’s fathers’ magic shop. The Misfits are going to need all their skills to finally unmask this sinister magician and break the mesmerism he seems to have placed over the entire town before it’s too late to save no only the town, but their friendship and trust.

Super charming series, and the illustrations are gorgeous.

Marsupilami

HOUBA! I watched a very bad TV adaptation of this as a kid that still managed to find a place in my heart, and so I decided to finally try reading some of the original comic! On one hand: it was exactly what I had hoped! The art is cute, the marsupilami is so dynamic and fun to see on the page (and has a way better characterization than he does in the show), and it’s really funny! Unfortunately! It is also pretty racist! Yikes! That seems to be a reoccuring downfall for some of these older Belgian comics... I also tried reading the first book of Les Tuniques Bleues and aye ye ye… I couldn’t actually get through that one. That being said, these were older volumes and frankly, North American media was also real fucking racist at that point so I’m not gonna write them off either. I really liked most of this book, and will probably try to get my hands on one of the more recent volumes of both Marsupilami and Les Tuniques Bleues to see if they get better with time. (If you’ve read either of those series and have volume recommendations hmu)

The Pagemaster

I’m a sucker for novelizations, I have no excuse beyond that. I recently rewatched The Pagemaster and decided to read the chapter book. And it was a solid little adaptation! It’s about Richard Tyler, a young boy with a head for statistics which unfortunately means he lives in constant fear of (in his opinion, statistically likely) injury or death. However that fear is put to the test when he gets caught in a horrible thunderstorm and has to shelter in a nearby library with halls and shelves that stretch beyond the imagination and with untold perils hidden among the pages of the books. Richard, with only his library card and three novels that hope to be checked out, has to venture through the different genres and horrors housed int he library if he ever wants to find the exit and get home to safety.

Pumpkinheads

A very charming little graphic novel. Cute art, and really loveable characters. Josiah and Deja work every year at a local pumpkin patch, and are best friends during those weeks. However this is their last year working there before going off to university and as the last day at the patch comes to a close they realize that they both still have regrets. Deja sets off on a mission to avoid work, eat all the interesting snacks around the patch, and get Josiah to find the girl he’s been crushing on every year and has never worked up the nerve to talk to.

After being deprived of human contact for almost a year, this book really hits you right in the heart.

The Screwfly Solution

A deeply upsetting scifi/horror short story! I read it on the recommendation of a friend and, yes, can confirm that this fucked me up a bit. I honestly don’t even know what to say about this that wouldn’t spoil it, but frankly with everything being as it is, this hit a little bit too close to reality. (That being said, it was very well written, like this is a very good story on a literary level and it does exactly what it sets out to accomplish.) If you feel like reading twenty pages and being really disturbed, give it a go! Otherwise go and read any number of the much happier books on this list!

The Whipping Boy

This was a book I remember reading as a lit circle book back in elementary school and really loving. After telling myself I’d reread it for years, I finally sat down with it again. If you somehow got through school without reading this one, it’s about a brat of a prince and his whipping boy — since it would be unspeakable to strike a prince, when the prince misbehaves it is Jemmy who gets whipped. Unsurprisingly, there is no love lost between the two of them, because the prince is always intentionally causing problems that Jemmy has to suffer for. Things begin to change though when the prince decides to run away and drags Jemmy along with him. On the run, being chased by highwaymen, and desperately trying to hide their identities, these boys go on a fast-paced adventure beyond the castle walls. It wasn’t as special as I remembered it being as a kid, but it’s a fine little chapter book.

[ravs6709]

Our Very Own Melody- Kam

Alrighty. This is my contribution for @kam-week-2020! The original plan was to have it out like last week, but well... This was for day 2, Soulmates/Flowers. It’s a human au, because I felt like it. In this case, the soulmates thing is that soulmates have a mental bond that develops once you’re close to them (it’s like telepathy and empathy combined kinda).

This fic is a lot different than my normal ones. 1- It accidentally ended up being like 5k words long. This was because the ending was my original idea for this, but I got super invested in the backstory so now the ending is more of a very short bonus. 2- since the beginning-turned-super-long part was the backstory, the tensing might be a little confusing, but it is linear and I was too lazy to edit. Also, music kinda has a large focus, but really, all you need is a very basic understanding as to how a violin works, as I didn’t use as much music terms.

At the moment, I’m really proud of this one, so enjoy! Someone please tell me if the cut decided to break on this, ik it would be hard to scroll through 5k+ words.

Last thing, but this universe feels like it can be explored more, so if asked I can add more from different POVs

•~•~•~•~•~•

Keefe Sencen loved having a soulmate. He loved having someone who could just understand him. He'd grown up deprived of the love that he so desperately needed. All he had wanted was someone he could talk to without having to hide himself.

Then came his soulmate. He'd met Tam Song in high school, he was a boy who either sat alone or stuck by the side of his sister. He always wore earbuds, and that, combined with his less than stellar attitude made him less than approachable.

Though despite the fact that he kept himself distant, the black haired boy had joined a club. The club was the strings ensemble, which also happened to be one of the clubs that Keefe was in. It was there he learned that Tam played the violin just like him, and he played it passionately. He was also incredibly skilled, but Keefe would have never told him that.

Being the two best violin players in the ensemble, they'd interacted a lot. It lead to them clashing constantly, a competition to see who could learn a song faster, or who would make less mistakes. Anyone around them would have admired their enthusiasm to play, and when they had to play a duet, they were always mindful of each other, never trying to drown the other out.

Their competition didn't end there though, it had started to extend to outside of the club too. The both of them had went out of their way to learn a variety of new songs, just so they could play it to each other. They would bask in the feeling of seeing the other in awe of their playing skills. And when it was their turn to listen, listen they did, admiring the fluidity of the of the bow's movements. Or just the sound of each individual note, politely offering constructive criticism whenever there was an improvement that could be made.

"Keefe," Fitz said. "Do you like Tam?"

"Bangs Boy?" He had scoffed. "You think I like him?"

"You spend a lot of time with him," Fitz pointed out. "You're what... serenading him every month?"

"S- serenade?" He spluttered. "I am not serenading and trying to woo him!"

"Then what is going on?"

"It's a competition," Keefe explained. "I'm proving that I'm the superior violinist. I'm just trying to get him to acknowledge it."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "Why does it matter if he says that you're better?"

For once, Keefe had been unable to reply. Because it didn't matter, did it?

All this had happened in their first year of high school. Even after, they continued to learn new songs, ready to play with for the other. In their third year of high school, they ended up in the same strings class. Their class had received a project where they would have to create a song and perform it in front of class. Everybody had to work in a pair, and their teacher had assigned them as a pair.

Neither of them would have admitted it at the time, but they had worked together as if they had shared the same mind. Their ideas always seemed to mesh well with the other's, and always managed to work through the flaws of the other's idea. When one of them was stuck trying to figure out how the next part of the song would go, the other was able to figure out the answer that was exactly what the other had needed. When it was time to present, the entire class, including the teacher had been speechless at the way they so effortlessly played with each other, their dynamic perfect.

Neither of them had realized it at the time, but it was the beginning of the bond that they would have.

Towards the end of their third year, Keefe's father had begun to be more strict than usual. The pressure to get high grades was becoming overwhelming. It had started to be harder to crack jokes.

Surprisingly, it was Tam that was the first to notice his change in demeanor.

"Are you doing okay?"

Keefe had froze, unsure of what to do. So he gave a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You're a lot less obnoxious than usual," Tam told him. "It would be a shame if your playing were to be affected."

Well, that was something he didn't expect to hear. But it was a good way to distract. "Aww Bangs Boy, you care?"

He had rolled his eyes, but the look on him seemed less irritated than usual. "We can't just let the competition end so easily. It would be no fun if I win only because you weren't able to play at your best."

"I'm fine though, really." The blonde boy wasn't sure why he kept lying, but he didn't want to vent to Bangs Boy, of all people.

"Well hypothetically," Tam began, not making eye contact. "If something were to be wrong, I would listen. I'm not good with words, but I think it would be better than nothing."

"Well hypothetically," Keefe continued. "If something were to be wrong, I might come to you. But I'm fine."

He nodded, then pointed to a bench by the empty park. "Let's sit."

Keefe smiled. This was usually Tam's way of saying that he had a song that he was ready to play. He followed and sat at the bench, watching as Tam pulled out his violin from the case.

With that, Tam began to play Keefe's favourite song. He wasn't even sure when he had told the black haired boy what his comfort song was, or how he had remembered, but he didn't question it. Not when there was someone in front of him, someone who had noticed. And that Tam had done his best to comfort him despite not being good at that sort of thing.

It was that fact that had compelled him to stare, he had been sure of it at the time. Keefe had sat there, eyes drifting to the fingers changing positions, then doing a vibrato. Then he looked towards the bow arm, moving up and down elegantly. And then to his face, mouth set in a determined line, eyes narrowed as he focused on only his playing.

And if Tam had accidentally played the wrong note, he didn't mind it at all, grateful that this moment was even happening at all.

"I only started learning it a week ago," Tam had told him, after he finished.

"It was beautiful," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could control them. 'Thank you."

For the first time, Tam had blushed. His skin had turned a light pink, but still noticeable compared to how pale it had been before.

"I'll play it for you again when I've improved," he offered, which had been his way of saying that he was there.

It was such a nice offer, almost unlike what he was used to hearing. "Sure."

It had been about a week later when Keefe had approached Tam to take him up on his offer. His father had yelled at him for getting a 93 on an English assignment. The back haired boy had nodded, and pulled out his violin.

The original plan was to lay down and enjoy the music, to let himself drift off, even if for a few minutes. But there was something about the way Tam played, the melody of those high notes- starting off slow before speeding up in a crescendo that made him lose control of himself.

The tears were flowing before he was able to realize it, his breaths erratic. The one thing that had kept him grounded was his fingers tapping to the tune against the wooden bench. The song had ended with a whole note, emotion packed into that one long note.

"It's your family, isn't it?" Tam asked.

Keefe gazed up at him. "Wha- what do you mean?"

"Most of us talk fondly about our families. I've heard Fitz and Sophie and Dex talk about theirs. You never mention your own, and you've never invited your friends to your home. You look at your schoolwork with a distant expression, as if you would want to he anywhere else except at school."

There was more to it, Keefe thought. But he wasn't able to question it, not when Tam had admitted that he observed him. He opened his mouth to make a teasing remark, but all that came out was.

"Yeah. I... my father's super strict. I got a 93 on an English assignment, and he yelled at me. Said I was too busy playing my violin. It's just... I know in my head that I'm getting good marks, but no matter how hard I try, I'm just not good enough?"

"You are good enough. Better than good," Tam said, surprising him yet again. "I don't want to make this about me, but my dad was also crappy, but Linh and I got taken in by someone else a few years ago. I know how it is, to feel that way, and I know that no one deserves to be treated like that. And you've shown me time and time again that you not only deserve basic respect, but more than that."

He was sure that that was the most that Tam had ever spoken at once. And that he was so sincere about it. There were no false praises, just facts. You deserve respect.

The weeks had gone by, and Tam had always been there when he needed it most. He wasn't sure why he had told Tam all of this, considering that it was Fitz who was his best friend. But also... he didn't want to bother Fitz, and he didn't quite understand the feeling.

Usually, Tam would just play, and occasionally Keefe would talk. There was no pressure from Tam, and he was able to work through his emotions at his own pace. The pressure from his father also started to ease a little bit, going back to how it normally was.

"You're a lot more enthusiastic," Tam said without preamble.

"That's what happens when you don't get yelled at. Anyways, thanks... for all of that, for caring that much."

"I'm just trying to be a decent human being," Tam replied. "Besides, our competition isn't over yet." Despite the words, his tone was softer, and he didn't make eye contact.

Another month passed by, and finally, Keefe admitted to himself that he liked having Tam at his side. There was just something about the boy was that relieving, that distracted him from the outside world. With him, it was only the two of them.

"He's a lot happier," Linh told him one day. "He's usually happy when he's with you."

"Wait what?"

"I'm not sure how much you know about how we were treated in the past, but he used to rarely smile, but now, he often comes up smiling. He never tells me why, but I know it's because he was with you."

"Maybe," he guessed.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she said with a smile, and then walked off to join Sophie and Biana.

After that, Keefe caught himself looking for more of those smiles that Linh talked about. She was right, his scowl was unusually soft, his silvery blue eyes gleaming with emotion. He also seemed more polite, snapping at people less than he had two years ago.

So when that smile had faded, Keefe had immediately noticed. There were other things off with Tam, like the way he walked slower, or the earbuds that looked hastily shoved in his ears. He was quieter, and had snapped at someone.

Every time he tried to talk to him in private, something would happen. Whether it was Linh talking to Tam, or Biana wanting to talk to Keefe, or a school bell ringing and that they has different classes.

It was after school when Keefe finally found him again. He was in the park again, playing his violin. But the song he was playing was different than he normally would be playing. Usually, Tam played more gentle songs, and most of the time they would require the higher strings.

This one was low and sharp, echoing with dread, much like the music that he would listen to. The notes were fast, the bow arm moving so sharply it had to have hurt his shoulder. Then the bow slipped from his hand, but he didn't bother picking it up.

Keefe stood there in shock at the careless behaviour, bows were supposed to be treated with care. Tam then started plucking at the strings, a lot less loud but still holding that tension. The notes went higher and higher, and Keefe winced. The high notes were harder to pluck because the strings were so thin.

Upon closer instruction, his posture wasn't good either, forcing his movements to be less smooth. If it were possible, Tam started playing even faster, and Keefe knew that this wasn't going to end well.

When he got close enough, he gently pried the violin from the boy's arms despite his protests. Setting it aside, Keefe held his hands, looking to see how bad the damage was. There was a small cut on his right hand- not that bad, but if he hadn't intervened it would have gotten worse.

They sat on the bench in silence, Keefe gently rubbing his fingers over Tam's hands in a soothing motion.

"Tam," he whispered. "What happened?"

Tam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his entire body shaking. He looked sad and defeated, like Keefe had felt earlier, but there was something else to it. His dramatic playing, along with the hard line of his mouth made it look like he was angry.

"What did he do?" He wasn't sure where the thought had come from, where he got the idea that Tam's biological father had done something, but based on the way Tam looked at him afterwards, he knew that he had guessed right.

"Linh and I... we had gone out to get some tea and we saw him. We tried to get away, but he saw us. He called for us in that fake caring tone, and that along with us looking like him prevented us from getting away."

It must have been awful. Keefe could imagine the scene, Tam and Linh with distressed looks on their faces, the way their father had acted, the way it would humiliate them, force them into listening.

One thing seemed off. Tam had told him how he deserved basic respect, as if he'd gotten out of the toxic mindset. It was almost as if he didn't care about what his father had thought of him. Why would he be so angry then?

Another image had flashed through his mind. It was of Tam and Linh, the latter holding back her tears. If there was one thing that Tam loved the most, it was Linh. If his 'father' had told Linh something, then he would be a lot ore angry. Like he was currently.

"What did he say to Linh?"

"I don't want to repeat it," Tam mumbled. "I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Then don't."

Keefe bent down and picked up the bow that had fallen, and looked at the violin. Him and Tam were relatively the same size, so their arms would he of similar lengths. There was no blood on the fingerboard. Deeming it fine, he held Tam's violin and begun to play.

Tam often listened to more dark songs but once Keefe had heard him humming to a song that sounded a lot different. Not quite upbeat, but it wasn't somber either. Almost as if it were about finding hope. But then he would hear the humming more often, and Keefe had grown familiar. He still had to look at the sheet notes- playing by ear was hard- but it was easy to play, as he could hear it in his head.

He sought out that familiar tune as he played, long, drawn out notes. The song was somewhat slow, until it would pick up a little, the melody a little happier. He focused solely on the playing, not daring to look at Tam until he was finished. He didn't want any distraction.

So once he had finished, he finally looked. His mouth was open, eyes wide.

"I see I've managed to leave you awestruck, Tam," He said with a smirk.

The black haired boy blinked, his face flushing pink before he recovered. "Yeah- well... you played my favourite song! I never even told you what it was!"

"You've hummed it so many times in the past month! And then..." he trailed off, because something didn't make sense.

"Even if you heard the song, how would you know what it was?" Tam asked.

"I just recognized the song? I've heard it before." That was a lie, he had never heard the song before. But how did he know it then?

"And I haven't hummed it. At least, not when there were people around. Unless you're stalking me on the way home, you shouldn't have been able to hear it."

"I've heard the song so many times, its almost like it's a part of you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know."

"Then why did you say it?" He was actually smiling, instead of giving him that irritated look he usually would. Keefe wanted to see that smile more often.

"I don't know."

He rolled his eyes, but was still smiling.

Later that day, Linh had called him. She'd told him that Tam no longer looked like he wanted to hurt someone, and looked more relieved. She said that she knew he was the reason why and thanked him once more.

Their third year had quickly ended after that, and it ended quite nicely. And as much as Keefe didn't quite like school, it was weird not being there, not being able to see his friends every day. So when he wasn't with his friends, he played his violin, often playing the song that he had played for Tam.

"Apparently, Linh has two soulmates," Tam said to him one day, closer to the end of vacation.

"Really?" Because having two soulmates was rare. "Wait, is it Sophie and Biana?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She was telling me some stuff about the soulmate bond that's been going on."

But based on the way Tam looked, it almost felt like he was the one asking.

"And what'd she say?"

"She said some of the usual things that people normally say. The reading of minds, and having to work on not invading each other's privacy. But she was telling me about before she knew and..."

"What?"

"She was telling me how she didn't know why she was able to trust them so easily. And she focused on the friendship bond that had started, while most people jump straight to the romance part."

"Bangs Boy, do you think you've met your soulmate?"

Apparently he seriously lacked a filter, because how many times had he suddenly just asked a question without realizing? But as he thought about it, he kind of hoped that the answer was a no.

"I'm not sure. If I have, our friendship isn't strong enough yet."

The answer was really optimistic, as if he couldn't wait to see his soulmate. But Keefe didn't want that to happen just yet. Tam had spent most of his time around him... he didn't want someone else occupying that time too.

Wait, was that what he thought it meant? There was no way that he... sure, he liked being around Tam, being able to play music for each other, but...

His shoulders slumped as he sighed. Keefe was crushing on Tam.

If Tam had noticed his change in attitude, the way he went quiet, and fidgeted with his fingers, he didn't say anything.

Their next meeting was back at school. He'd managed to get a slightly better control of his emotions, but after that revelation, he felt self-conscious about every interaction he had. And when Tam would play, Keefe would notice every little detail.

The most surprising part was that deep down, he'd already noticed those details. The emotions hidden away in those blue eyes. A foot very lightly tapping to a beat. So he sat there, admiring everything that was happening.

And then he had an idea. He'd scoured the Internet for some good songs that would work as a duet. Finally he found one, and printed the music sheets.

The next day during lunch, he went up to Tam.

"So Bangs Boy, I have an offer."

Tam raised an eyebrow, but took a look at the sheet anyway. The hand that was laying by his side twitched, mimicking a bow as he mouthed the melody.

"You want to play this... with me?"

"I don't see why not."

"It's almost if you're acknowledging that my playing us good and you're asking me for help."

"When did I ever say that you were bad?" Because he wasn't, Tam had always been spectacular. "All I said that I was better." Which was something he'd been beginning to doubt.

"I didn't say that. Besides, your playing is also nice."

"An actual compliment? Wow, it only took like 3 years." Keefe said with a smirk.

He sighed, shaking his head, but fondly. "Shut up."

The song they played likely was the best song that they had played, other than the one that they created in class. Despite the early mistakes that had been made, they were always in sync, there was never a timing problem, only a note one.

Fitz had stumbled upon one of their better practices, and was astounded.

"You two... you two play so well, what the heck? Biana and I have tried to play songs for months and we're just..." his hands flailed wildly. "All over the place. And I don't even see either of you tapping your foot to keep track of time!"

"Practice," was all Tam said.

"Tam, I play piano."

"Wonderboy's just jealous he doesn't have the skills that we do." Keefe said, adopting the nickname that Dex often used.

He shrugged. "I'll be honest, you two remind me of how Biana acts with Sophie and Linh. They're like always in sync, but they usually use it to gang up on me. Which I think is rude."

Keefe grinned. "What a wonderful idea! When I find my soulmate, I'm going to make them tease you."

"Rude!" Fitz ended up leaving them alone again.

Neither of them did much practicing after that. He had said when he finds his soulmate, but he wanted them to be Tam. And well... Fitz had acknowledged that they were in sync. But he didn't know if that was just natural chemistry, or the work of the soulmate bond.

Tam had been quiet for unknown reason, and hardly every looked in Keefe's direction. He didn't seem upset or angry, but as if he had remembered something and was mulling it over.

But just in case... "You doing alright?"

His head jerked towards him. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"The future, I guess," he said.

It seemed like the truth, but he was sure there was more to it. But neither of them had spoken after that, the silence too delicate.

Fitz's words still hadn't left his brain though. What if they were soulmates? What if they weren't? He shook his head quickly to clear it. Not all soulmates were romantic, so even if they weren't, he still could have a chance. Then there was what Linh had said all those months ago.

He's a lot happier. He's usually happy when he's with you.

It made him rethink a lot of their interactions, thinking about all of those times that Tam had let himself smile. Always when they were in private. Then he remembered when he had comforted Tam, when he had blurted out something cheesy related to the song. What did that mean?

Another week later, he had an answer.

"Hey Bangs Boy, remember when I said you were like that song you liked?" Keefe had asked while they were walking.

Tam had frozen midstep, turning to face him. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I have an answer to it."

He raised an eyebrow, and continued to walk again. "Do tell."

"The song... it starts off really somber, it's almost dreadful, except for those few lines that didn't fit the tone. It's like your past, you went through tough times, but you had Linh with you, so it wasn't hopeless. Those few lines start repeating more often, like when you got adopted by Tiergan.

"There's still that sadness leftover, but you kept reaching for that sliver of hope, until your situation became a lot better. With that, your melody is happier. It well... it describes your life in a way. And I wouldn't be surprised if you became so attached to the song for a similar reason."

You helped me through the last of my darkness.

The voice was uncharacteristically emotional, but still very like Tam.

"What?"

Tam turned back to him, a confused expression on his face. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah you did... 'You helped me through the last of my darkness'."

His eyes widened. "I didn't say that though."

That made no sense. How would he have known that then unless...

We're soulmates.

Relief washed over him in waves. They really were soulmates. They'd gone through over three years together, and this was the bond they shared.

But then there was shock. It didn't quite feel like his own, but it felt real enough.

"Soulmates?" Tam echoed. "We..."

What he saw and what he felt were two different things. Tam still looked shocked, almost panicking. But what he felt was another wave of relief, and then joy.

"You like me too," Keefe breathed.

He'd expected either a happy reply, or a 'yeah you dumb*ss, but what he heard surprised him.

"Oh my God you can feel all my emotions."

"Is it... not okay?"

"No! I mean- yes! It's... it's always been there, your emotions, I think. But this... it's weird. I wanted to tell you that I liked you towards the end of the year, and ask if you wanted to share a dorm with me or something. But like... you can f*cking feel my emotions!"

"So it's a privacy thing then? Not a problem with me?" He was ready to panic at first, but this made a lot more sense. Tam wasn't a fan of oversharing, and was likely used to having to keep his emotions hidden.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I know Linh described it, but I never properly thought about it until now. And you said... you liked me?"

Keefe nodded. "Yeah. I have for a bit actually. You think we should discuss more of how this works?"

"Yes, please."

They continued their walk, setting some basic boundaries. Like no trying to actively invade the other's privacy, or if one of them learned something, it was better to keep quiet and pretend that nothing had happened. Unless that something was something major that required help.

By the end of their walk, they had arrived at Tam's house. Before Tam could walk away, Keefe pulled on his arm.

"Can I... can I kiss you?"

The black haired boy gave a soft smile, before planting a soft kiss. It was light, and his shoes were nearly stepped on, but it was absolutely sweet.

Keefe had ended the day feeling giddy, and no amount of questioning from his father was able to get rid of it.

Does this work? He thought, pushing it out of his mind.

You just scared the crap out of me, but yes. Oh great, I think Linh just figured it out.

Already?

She says I did the exact same thing she did.

Okay, I was just testing this out. It's a little tiring, actually.

Good night, Keefe.

Good night, Tam.

Keefe then sent a hasty text to Fitz, saying that he had found his soulmate. There was an immediate reply of guessing Tam. He supposed that in a way, it wouldn't be that surprised since they were constantly with each other. The night had ended with pure bliss.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Tam enough with the homicidal thoughts. You're so loud I can hear them without trying. I'm about to play, and I have a bow in my hand. I could poke someone and it won't be my fault.

Keefe. My coworkers are idiots.

Tell me when I get home. Not during this interview.

Keefe took a deep breath to sort out the emotions. Once he grabbed a hold of his own, he made eye contact with the interviewer.

"Keefe Sencen, right?"

"That is me."

"How long have you been playing the violin for?"

"Seventeen years now."

There was more mild chatting, each answer harder to reply to because someone was still trying to plot his coworkers murder. Keefe was just trying to get hired for playing the violin, while Tam was at his part time job until he found a new one.

"Can you show me what you have?"

He nodded. He thought of the melody he wanted to play, and started the song.

This one's for you, Tam.

It was different than what he'd intended to play, but in his opinion, he liked this song a lot better. It also happened to be a song that Tam had helped him write. The notes were graceful and soothing, not energetic and not depressing. His fingers practically moved on instinct alone, and the dark feeling was reduced to nothing.

You... you played that to calm me down, didn't you? Tam asked.

Is that not how it works?

It's been a while since that happened.

Yeah, but I don't want to get charged for assault.

I wasn't that angry.

You were plotting murders. Very detailed ones.

"A soulmate?" The interviewer asked.

Oh crap, he didn't mean to zone out that much.

"I think it's lovely, actually. Music requires emotion, and I think that they evoke a lot of it from you. Your playing was lovely too. Are they a fan of music?"

That was unexpected. "He plays the violin too."

The interviewed raised an eyebrow. "Does he now?"

Bangs Boy, I think my interviewer might want to hire you too. You're welcome.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Taglist: @linhamon-roll, @impostertamsong

If you wanna join the taglist, just let me know!

[razberryyum]

Why I love the Phoenix Mountain Hunt: an essay

(with novel spoilers)

Ok, firstly, the beautiful WangXian elephant in the room: I honestly never expected us to get the blindfolded kiss scene or anything close to that, though I was hoping for at least a mild hint at it involving Wei Wuxian being blindfolded and Lan Wangji at least somewhere nearby before they fade to black or cut- away, but I think what they gave us instead was just as awesome since it completely captured the spirit of the stolen kiss. For me at least, that blindfold scene was essentially LWJ being so overwhelmed by his feelings for WWX that he actually broke probably every moral code he’s lived by to uncharacteristically act upon his urges, pretty much taking advantage of WWX in his self-imposed vulnerable condition (although, how WWX could ever mistaken LWJ for being a female cultivationist, even if she’s especially arduous and STRONG, is beyond me…I mean, who has he SEEN at the hunt that would even fit that bill??? I probably could write a whole other essay just to figure this one out). With the “confession” scene we got instead, it feels like we basically got everything we wanted from the blindfolded kiss scene except without the actually kiss…which is pretty damn fine, all things considered. LWJ still was so overwhelmed by his feelings for WWX that he uncharacteristically almost demanded of WWX what his status in his life is and then pretty much eagerly pledged his continued devotion to him. To make things better, WWX was the one who came up with the word 知己 (more on that later) to describe how he felt about LWJ…which is actually a step up from how it was in the novel, where WWX, although aware of LWJ’s existence all of the time, mostly seemed to just enjoy teasing him for his own amusement. They definitely weren’t at the point where WWX would refer to him as a soulmate for life (and my God does it take a while to even get to anywhere near that point…not complaining but just…all the mostly one-sided pining on LWJ’s part in the novel hurt me).

I actually loved how the confession scene began with WWX immediately happy from seeing LWJ passing by and instinctively wanting to call out to him, only stopping himself because he remembered the talk he and big bro Lan Xichen had…which was not in the novel, completely original to the drama. I loved that change since that talk the two future bro-in-laws had just made me love LXC even more and also informed us further of just how much LXC is aware of his little bro’s feelings for WWX. But then LWJ was finally the one to spot WWX first and as he heads towards him, WWX has just the most heart-meltingly soft expression:

Like he’s so relieved and just happy that LWJ realized he’s there on his own so now they can finally converse. And then of course the conversation they have…so meaningful.

Now, tbh, for most of my life I thought the word 知己 actually just meant “dearest friend”, which would’ve been good enough already considering they can’t straight out say anything more intimate than that, but then upon finding out that the word can also mean “soulmate”, I was of course overjoyed. And considering the emotions involved in that scene and the way the two wonderful actors played it, along with the beautiful WangXian score coming in and their lingering looks, I don’t doubt that both LWJ and WWX did mean “soulmate”, especially considering how more developed their relationship was already by that point, thanks to the changes in the live action.

What I also love about the Phoenix Mt Hunt in terms of WangXian is just how WWX-focused LWJ was. It’s like he couldn’t take his eyes off of WWX the majority of the time, and he was constantly concerned for him. Other than the cute ribbon exchange at the beginning and the aforementioned conversation scene, my other favorite WangXian moment between them was when LWJ held WWX back while they were in hiding behind the tree, eavesdropping on Shijie and Jin Zixuan:

…because of the expression on LWJ’s face. It’s obvious he sees through Jin Zixuan’s facade, that the Jin dork is actually already crushing on Shijie, hence LWJ’s almost smile in that moment while trying to pull WWX back from ruining the two future lovebird’s alone time…

It felt like the reason LWJ understood JZX’s feelings was because he too was trying to hide his true feelings from the one he is enamored with.

And then of course there’s all the physical contact between WWX and LWJ…

Another reason I love the Phoenix Mt Hunt is because of Shijie, Jiang Yanli. I don’t post much about anyone else other than WangXian because Tumblr freaks out on me when I post about something more than once or twice a day so I have to pick and choose my loves, but I pretty much loved Shijie the moment she appeared in the live action. They could not have chosen a sweeter, more loving looking person to play her. I was already a fan of her character right from the get-go, but when she stood up for her little bro, WWX and her sect, I just about burst out crying cuz I was so damn proud of her. I wanted to reach into the screen and just hug her so much. She was simply amazing in that scene, the actress and the character, and I felt like we saw some of Madame Yu in her.

I’m still not very convinced that JZX deserves her, cuz he’s still kinda a dick to WWX, but if that’s the man she wants, who am I to deprive her of anything. Give her the world, please, cuz Shijie deserves it.

Oh and this moment, I really appreciated as well:

That look of utter fear on WWX’s face…which I feel wasn’t just due to the fact that he was worried for his Shijie’s safety, but because he knew there was no way he could protect her due to his condition. Bless LWJ again of course for coming to his rescue…which actually makes me wonder why he hasn’t said anything to WWX about his golden core considering it’s pretty obvious he knows something’s up. It’s actually still driving me a little crazy that LWJ continues to keep that to himself even though he clearly knows or is at least suspicious enough that he’s constantly coming to WWX’s rescue…during the Sunshot Campaign and now even at the hunt.

I also love of course how LWJ seems to be in constant fear that WWX would just lose it completely and then do something irreversible…which, of course we know that he eventually will, sadly, but my heart just ached on behalf of LWJ and the non-stop concern he must’ve been feeling for WWX like 24/7. I mean, leading up to the hunt, we know he was breaking sect rules to look up ways to help WWX, while WWX on the other hand got to enjoy life in Lotus Pier. All of it just makes LWJ’s words to his big bro, where he talks about wanting to just hide WWX away, that much more heart-breaking. It was already poignant in the novel knowing that he would even want to do something like that (after what happened with his parents) just to keep WWX safe, but somehow it felt worse in the live action because of all the build up to that moment, where we see how almost desperate he is to keep WWX on the right path and safe.

Lastly (omg, this thing is already 3 pages long), what I also appreciated about the Phoenix Mt Hunt is the stuff that happens to Jin Guangyao. First off, against my better judgment, every time he pops up with LXC, I can’t help but smile cuz it IS so damn cute how the two of them are like always attached at the hip…they just appeared together here…like, I guess they just ditched their crabby older bro to wander off together?…lol. 

And then, when you see just how shitty Madame Jin and even that ass-weasel Jin Zixun treats JGY despite the fact that he’s basically helping them run their freaking sect now, really makes a good case for why he doesn’t feel any love for his so-called family, even before we find out his history. Not that that justifies what he does, especially considering how much he hurts those we do love, but we can see the Jins really don’t make a good case for themselves. Not to mention, at the start of the hunt, with how they use the probably innocent Wen members for archery targets, the line between the Jins and the Wens became really blurred, despite the Lanling Jin’s more angelic looking outfits. Again, I don’t get a chance to talk about this enough, but part of the reason I love Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed is that surrounding the beautiful love story between WWX and LWJ there is a legit fascinating story about the world of cultivation, the sects and families within it, which is populated by characters that are just as interesting and dynamic as our two protagonists. I think the Phoenix Mt Hunt really highlights this fact by giving us a glimpse into all these different aspects of the two main stories at play in one event…and not to mention, WWX just looked cool AF doing all that stuff with a blindfold on…which is why I love the hunt so much.

Thank you for reading my thesis. I will continue to work hard to earn my doctorate degree in MDZS/The Untamed.

[sunflowerspectre]

The Backwaters | Commission Piece

This is part of a long commission piece for an anon, who commissioned for a long-length, full fanfiction.

Commission Info | Also on A03

Title: The Backwaters Summary: As an agent of SHIELD, Shuri’s assignment is to find and rescue Wanda Maximoff who disappeared in the backwaters of West Virginia. But her training is put to the test when the town’s mechanic Bucky takes a liking to her. Aged up! Shuri Warnings: Omega!Verse, Beta/Omega/Alpha Dynamics, OOC

<< Previous Chapter | Final Chapter >>

The Backwaters | Chapter Nine Word Count: 3241

All Shuri can think of is when to make the call. It has been one full day. That should be enough time for Wanda and Natasha to have warned the other girls stuck there, enough for them to prepare, but should she give them one more day? Should she risk one of the girls exposing their plans? She didn’t expect to face this type of dilemma, she wanted to call them as soon as she saw Wanda, but things changed. She saw the chance to tell Nat and Wanda, to let them tell others so that they can prepare and know that there is still hope, to live for just a little bit longer, and she took that chance.

She wasn’t specific when she talked to Nat and Wanda, but it would be easy for the idea of ‘escaping’ to be tracked back to her. She knows Nat would never rat her out, but Wanda is scared, she’s used and on the verge of breaking down entirely. If Paul pushes her enough, Wanda might spill and Shuri couldn’t bring herself to blame her if she did - or any of the other girls who might spill the beans that someone is planning an uprising due to fear, torture, humiliation, or any of the other abusive tactics that these sons of bitches use.

Though, by that logic, could she really blame any of the women who may spill because they don’t like the idea of everyone getting arrested? The women who have lived here for decades, who are scared of change and too brainwashed to realize the abuse in front of their eyes, the ones who bury themselves in denial to be able to live their lives as normally as they could. 

Or did any of them actually believe it if they did hear? Did the women from that church - the ones with hollow eyes and babies on their knees - know that help is coming or do they refuse to believe it because they’ve had their hopes for escaping dashed too many times like Wanda?

Shuri sighs and rests her back against the cold, wet, shower wall of Bucky’s cabin. She thinks about the Sheriff, the non-consensual wife he took from her home, and wonders if she got word. She wonders if she was able to pack up what she needed while looking after a baby at the same time. 

She can’t risk it, she can’t risk any of these bastards getting away because they bullied and abused someone into giving them a heads up. She has to get the women out of there.

She presses her bracelet together, signaling Coulson, and whispers her plan. She didn’t contact him yesterday, with too much at stake to risk Bucky overhearing her, but now all the information she’s learned comes out as whispers that are muffled by the running water of the shower.

She tells him all that he missed, including the exact directions needed to get to both her cabin and to Paul’s, going over exactly what beaten path to follow and which tree to turn at.

“Sheriff has eyes everywhere, Coulson. Cameras at each of the welcome signs on the edges of town and helicopters may get spotted. May need to send in a discreet squad with the ATVs to get down here until you get your cuffs on the sheriff yourself.”

“Well, avoiding cameras isn’t exactly anything new for us…  What about this Nat woman? Do you think she’ll spread the word discreetly or will she rat us out before we can get there?”

Shuri remembers the determination in Nat’s eyes, the motivation in her voice, the firmness of her decision to get out and to get as many of the girls out as they can along the way. It was the only time Shuri saw something other than sadness from the woman. It was like an old fire had been reignited and the amount of hope, trust, and belief that Nat looked to Shuri with - despite the hesitation and caution, Nat looked like she wanted to believe Shuri as much as Wanda wanted to.

But she doesn’t say that to Coulson - she can’t - there’s no way you can explain those types of looks to someone. Besides, a part of her knows that he’s right, as much as Shuri does believe in Nat, there is never a guarantee that she isn’t going to warn anyone to get them out before the raid.

“Second guessing my skills, Couslon, I must say that is rather bold for you,” Shuri teases, her voice light and forced.

“-Hey what’s that supposed to mean? We’re supposed to be working together and I wouldn’t be a good partner if I didn’t remind you of SHIELD 101.”

“- don’t trust anyone but yourself,” Shuri says, her voice echoing over Coulson’s own, as she rolls her eyes with amusement.

She could hear Coulson chuckling a bit before he pauses, deep in thought, before he finally speaks up. Despite the situation, Coulson never has been this chatty mid-mission before a raid, but she can only imagine how human-deprived he is in a tent all by himself with a little bathroom shovel.

“...What about Wanda though? Is she ready to go?”

Shuri thinks of the the dull, lifeless eyes that looked at her with so much helplessness. Her lips thin, “She’s not just ready, she needs to get out now. Send some of the paramedics to her location with some of the agents.”

She pauses and then continues, “ - and a good utility knife.”

“- a utility knife?”

Shuri thinks of the beaten leather collar that was marred with fingernail scratches, the thick leather of it and how it will take more than a pair of rusty kitchen scissors to get off.

“Yes - a good one or a rotary cutter may get the job done. They’ll know what to do with it when they find her.”

Shuri continues to go over the plan with him in hushed towns, exactly how he needs to have the squad come into town, which players they need to take care of first - Wanda and the Sheriff taking priority. Wanda due to her physical and mental condition and the Sheriff due to his powerful influence over the town. She has no doubts that if they take him down first, then the others will crumble like the cowards that they are. 

She gives strict instructions to not worry about her, to come get Bucky last, that she will stall him until they get here. Something that will be easy, Shuri believes, until she ends the conversation, finishes getting dressed, and steps out of the bathroom to see Bucky standing on the other side of the door with dark eyes, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Who were you talkin’ to you, doll? Thought I heard your voice in there.”

Shuri gives an easy smile despite the pounding in her chest, dancing on her feet to get around him with grace. 

“Myself, of course. Not a crime, last I checked, to get your thoughts out for yourself and talk to yourself in the mirror. Good confidence boost.”

Shuri walks down the hall, wanting to get them to a more open space, to add distance between them. She keeps an eye over her shoulder, watching him follow her with hesitation and furrowed brows. She doesn’t miss the way that he glances into the bathroom before he follows, as if he may be able to catch someone hiding behind the curtain or stuck in the small window.

“What do you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of doing some hash, something simple, but filling.”

She tries to keep the conversation light and natural, not wanting him to focus too much on any one part of her sentence or think too hard about what he thinks he heard her say in the bathroom.

She could, honestly, beat herself up at the moment, her throat tight and her mind spinning. She can’t have him of all people ruin this for her, all because she didn’t pay enough attention to the door. She can’t have this entire mission ruined over one rookie mistake and one stupidly handsome backwater cowboy.

They stop in the living room, as Bucky’s pace behind her slows. She spins around to face him, grin plastered on from cheek to cheek. She wishes that she had brought her shoes into the bathroom, just to have something between her toes and the wooden floors - shoes would offer a chance to run, add more strength to any kicks, and lessen the chance of her getting any splinters from just walking down the beaten hall.

Bucky hardly seems to be paying her any mind, his eyes lost in thought, arms crossed back against his chest with a tight frown. 

“You know, darling, I’m beginning to think that this is just one of the few things that are just not quite addin’ up for me.”

He meets her gaze and doesn’t flinch, he stands tall with his head high. His eyes become hooded and shadowed as the furrow on his browns deepen. Shuri, despite that there are many other things that she should be thinking about at the moment, can’t help but think that the look on his face seems to break the illusion of a ‘handsome cowboy.’ The frown just highlights the creases at his mouth and eyes, making him look older, darker, more serious.

She can finally see the resemblance between him and Steve Rodgers. She can also see that he is definitely starting to get closer to her, his figure starting to shadow over hers. She takes a step back for every step forward he takes. She raises her hands as a sign of peace, smile still on her face, and hears Coulson’s whispered tone through the bracelet that the raid has started. He has Wanda - and the Sheriff.

Which means that all she has to do is stall him until someone comes by to arrest him - if she doesn’t knock him out first. It means that she doesn’t have to play nice anymore, but she can play with him and enjoy every single moment of this. 

“I know that something ain’t right with how I woke up on the couch and it took me a minute to realize why. You’re a smart girl, darling, smarter than some of ‘em others up here. But I didn’t smell a lick of liquor on me. Wasn’t too sick ‘neither. Then I smelled it all in the sink. I’m figurin’ that you dumped it all down the sink and staged it to make me think I just drank myself out. I don’t remember too much of that night, don’t know if ya finally found the drugs and drugged me or what.”

He takes another step forward, her grin doesn’t falter as he gets too close to her. 

“But I do remember what I asked ya that night - askin’ you to come to bed.”

She takes pleasure in dodging the way he lunges for her, ducking around him with ease and a small laugh. She hears the way that he growls, grumbling and cursing at her under his breath, but he turns to go after her again. While her grin is predatory, it’s mysterious, mirroring a cat playing with its mouse. His, however, looks like the big bad wolf - hungry, angry, ravenous, alpha.

But she doesn’t falter. She is fully prepared to let him huff and puff all he wants, but when by the end of this, she won’t be the one going down.

“I didn’t have to ask you know,” his hands wave around, flaunting about the room before he starts to gesture toward himself, “I could have taken you, you know. Didn’t have to ask or nothin’. Could have waited until you were sleepin’ like I almost did the first night you were ‘ere. Could’ve drugged ya. Could’ve done a lot of things, but I’m a nice guy.”

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, and he looks at her with a feign calmness - a mask that’s cracked, forced, and she sees right through it. It mirrors her own, but it’s unpolished, untrained, and not perfect like the mask she’s had these past few weeks.

“But I’m just very done being nice, sweetheart and if you don’t tell me what happened and stop all this nonsense, I am going to put you over my knee and spank you just like the bad girl you’ve been.”

Oh a threat. Delighted and amused that he really thinks that he can threaten her, she sits on the armrest of the couch, crossing her legs with a smile as she swings her feet almost innocently. He takes a step back, unsure of how to respond to her lack of reaction, but Shuri can see his fists clenching, his nails making indents in his palm.

“I have been a bad girl, haven’t I,” her eyes twinkle, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip, “But I like being bad, Bucky, so bad one could say I really am good. So good in fact that I took you down like you the coward you are.”

She glances at her nails, raising her hand up casually as she does so. A part of her wonders if they’re sharp enough to do damage, the other part wondering if she should get a manicure when she gets back home. Oh maybe I could take Nat and Wanda. A spa day after all this trauma. I’m sure Fury wouldn’t mind me charging SHEILD’s credit card for it if it’s for recovery. She glances back toward Bucky, almost forgetting that she’s ‘supposed’ to be taking him seriously right now. 

“I’ll take you down again, you know,” Shuri’s eyes burn in the lowlight of the cabin, lighting up her face brilliantly, “If the others don’t get here first, you know? Had to call them in after I saw the state Wanda was in yesterday, but they already told me that they have her. Paul too, I’m sure, and he’ll be getting what he deserves. Just like the rest of you will be.”

Her grin is dangerous, serious. Untamed and slightly unhinged with sharp edges. 

“You really think you lot could be doing what you’re doing up here without SHIELD eventually taking notice?”

That makes Bucky stop - if for a moment. He tenses, freezing as he processes what it is that she’s telling him. The name SHIELD causes all the hair on the back of his neck to go straight up, goosebumps starting to pop up over his thicker arms. 

Shuri’s feathers fluff at his reaction, taking in great delight the way it makes him shiver in his boots, that he’s quaking in fear like the lowlife he is. 

It is a justified reaction, she knows. SHIELD has always been the boogey-man that everyone’s warned about. The ones that come in and take you out before you knew that they were even there - the ones that have the spies, the heroes, the villains, all under their thumbs. No they weren’t the boogey-man.

They’re everything that the boogey-man is afraid of. 

She is what the boogey-man fears.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, as if finally coming to his sense, a grin back on his face as he takes a step forward, looking her over as he laughs, “No, not a little thing like you. Don’t go throwin’ names like that around ‘ere, darling. ‘Specially when you don't have any idea what you’re really talking about.”

He grins and he raises his hands to pop his calloused knuckles, a visible threat that doesn’t phase her.

“You’re delusional darling,” the laughter is still in his voice, “Absolutely batshit. I thought you were a spitfire, but this? Really? Thinking that someone is gonna be bustin’ in to save you? Thinkin’ that SHIELD even gives a rat’s ass about this place? About you? If you’re that crazy and unreasonable, looks like I’m gonna have to beat you to reason. Beat that crazy right out of ya.”

His grin is crooked, she notes with a laugh, just like him. The more unhinged he gets, the more it shows and the more she wonders why she ever let a man like that even touch her. It’s like watching a glass of one of mirror mazes shatter right when you’re in the middle of it, destroying the illusion before your eyes. She doesn’t see a handsome, or charming, farm boy. She sees a crazed man. A backwater bully who is the real delusional one.

She wonders just how many of the girls in town are watching that glass shatter. She wonders how many of them are getting cut trying to pick up the pieces of it, to build it back up, and how many are taking it as a chance to finally get out of this never-ending maze.

When Bucky lunges for, she yawns and her dodge is graceful, but lazy. As he runs after her, she avoids him like it’s muscle memory. His moves are frantic, crazy, strong, and impulsive. Hers are strategic, thoughtful, light on her toes and come as easy to her as breathing as he struggles to figure out how to catch her.

She’s getting bored playing with him now. It was fun to break him a bit, rattle him the way he deserves. But she wants to get to town. Help settle the crying women who are losing their husbands of ten or so years and don’t know how to break out of this delusion. Fix up the beaten ones. Carry the babies of the girls’ whose arms are too weak or too young for the weight of a babe. Check on Nat and Wanda for herself. 

“Honestly, just how long are you going to keep this up,” Shuri stretches, a bored expression on her face that infuriates Bucky as he lets out a cry and lunges for again.

Tired and wanting to end this, she lets him get in close this time. She steps away at the last moment, sticking her toes out just enough to trip him up. When he tumbles toward the ground, using his arms to support his weight, she jumps and lands on the crook just above the elbow with the ball of her foot.

His arms crumble, the one she landed on breaks from the force, and she steps off of him with an off-hand thought of how much better (and easier) it would have been in heels. She can hear the sirens now and the rumble of oncoming agents. As he nurses his broken arm, she uses her feet to push him onto his back. He rolls without much resistance, his ears ringing.

She rolls onto him, her side just below his neck. Her back faces him while his arms are pinned in front of her own. Her elbow presses on the floor with her other arm wrapped just below his elbows, free to stop anything he may try. With her weight and position, no matter how he begins to wiggle, he can’t shake her off. When he tries to stand, she knocks his knees with her free hand and he goes down again. 

The door to his cabin opens. He can’t see who it is, while Shuri turns her face toward the door with a bright grin.

“Coulson,” Shuri greets with a chirp, “We were having a grand time waiting for you.”

[emmaswritingdump]

The Dangers of Reading Fanfiction

Words: 1750

Pairing: Ladynoir, Adrienette

AO3 // Wattpad

Summary: Marinette reads a Ladynoir fanfiction out of curiosity and ends up getting addicted to Ladynoir fics. Then, on patrol with Chat, she has trouble focusing.

A/N: This is kind of a counterpart to my fic The Dangers of Writing Fanfiction, but it's not a sequel and there is absolutely no correlation between the two other than the plot involving fanfiction.

Obviously, she hadn’t intended to get addicted to reading Ladynoir fanfiction.

It had been a total and complete accident. Marinette had accidentally stumbled upon a Ladynoir fic on the internet, and she had read it out of mere curiosity.

It felt weird at first, since she knew she was reading about herself and one of her best friends falling in love, but the writer had talent. She quickly moved on from the awkwardness, and by the end of the story, her heart was fluttering, and her stomach was filled with butterflies.

As she hit the kudos button, she suddenly remembered what she was doing. She was reading fanfiction about herself and a boy for whom she did not have romantic feelings. Who does that?

She closed out the tab. She told herself that she was not going to read any more Ladynoir fanfiction.

Evidently, Marinette was a big fat liar.

A mere hour later, she was still thinking about the fanfiction.

In all honesty, it was cute. She had enjoyed it. Even if she didn’t want to date Chat, she couldn’t deny that it had been a cute fic.

So, taking a deep, shameful breath, she finally got her phone back out and searched for more Ladynoir fanfiction.

***

It was two o’clock in the morning, and she had hardly put her phone down since she gave in to the fanfiction.

She was just glad it wasn’t a school night; if it had been, she would have been completely and utterly screwed.

By that point, she had read so many fics that she was beginning to forget what was real and what wasn’t.

None of the stories were particularly realistic, characterization-wise- after all, their writers only had a few interviews as reference for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s personalities and the dynamic between them, and those interviews hardly captured the way they truly acted when they had a moment of privacy together.

But that didn’t really matter. No matter how unrealistic they were, there were still so many of them that were so compelling that Marinette couldn’t stop herself from reading them.

It truly was an addiction.

***

Marinette walked into school on Monday with the dark circles under her eyes barely hidden by concealer.

“Woah,” Alya said when she saw her friend. “No offense, Mari, but have you been having trouble sleeping?”

Marinette sighed as she sat down in her seat. “It’s not that,” she yawned. “It’s just… I’ve been reading a lot.”

Alya raised her eyebrows. “Really? You’ve been reading so much that you’re clearly very sleep-deprived? What on Earth are you reading that’s keeping you up so late?”

Marinette mumbled a response as she refused to meet her friend’s eyes.

“What?” Alya asked.

Marinette mumbled again.

“You’ve got to speak up, Mari,” Alya told her.

“Ladynoir fanfiction,” Marinette repeated again, louder than was necessary. “I’ve been up reading Ladynoir fanfiction, okay?” She glanced around and realized that she had drawn the attention of a few people around her- including Adrien, who was now staring at her with wide eyes.

Alya’s face broke into an excited smile. “I knew you would become a Ladynoir shipper one day! It was only a matter of time before you came around!” She pulled her friend into a tight hug.

Marinette broke free of Alya’s embrace and scowled at her. “I’m not a shipper. There are just a lot of good fics about them on the internet.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Girl, if you didn’t ship them, why would you be reading enough fanfiction about them to stay up all night?”

“Just because there’s a lot of good fanfiction about them doesn’t mean I think they’d make a good couple in real life,” Marinette said defensively.

“Why don’t you think they’d make a good couple?” Adrien asked.

Marinette’s eyes widened a bit when she realized he was talking to her, and her cheeks turned pink. “I- um- I just don’t think they have chemistry,” she said with a forced nonchalant shrug.

“Well, I have to disagree,” Adrien said. “I think they have loads of chemistry.”

“Heck yeah,” Alya said, extending her hand so they could bump fists.

“I just don’t see it,” Marinette said, trying not to think about her crush shipping her with another guy too much.

“Well, maybe you need glasses,” Alya said.

Marinette rolled her eyes.

***

During their patrol that night, Ladybug couldn’t stop thinking about the many fanfictions she’d read about herself and the leather-clad boy next to her.

She kept glancing over at him, taking more notice than she ever had before of his muscular body.

She shook her head. This was ridiculous.

However, try as she might, she couldn’t get those stories out of her head.

Her eyes kept lingering on Chat, and she grew clumsy with her yo-yo due to her preoccupied mind.

“Are you okay, LB?” Chat asked her with concerned eyes at one point. “You’re acting weird tonight.”

“I- I’m fine,” she said. “Just… tired.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a step closer to her, his brow furrowed in concern. “You’re acting really strange. We can end patrol early, if you need to do that.”

Ladybug felt her breath hitch at his closeness to her. Why? He’s been much closer to me than this before, she thought. “I’m sure,” she lied. “Thank you, though.”

They continued with their patrol, and Ladybug spent the rest of the it focusing more of her energy on not thinking about the fanfiction than on being Ladybug.

At the end of the patrol, they sat on a rooftop to talk, the same way they always did.

They chatted idly for a while as they stared up at the starry night sky, though Ladybug didn’t participate quite as much as usual.

“Ladybug,” Chat finally said, turning to look at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Chat, I’m fine,” she assured him once again. “I’m just tired.”

He moved closer to her, and they were mere inches apart. “Ladybug… I know I flirt and goof around a lot, and I know you never take anything I say seriously because of it, but I mean every word of it. I do care about you. A lot. If there’s something wrong, I want to help you.”

Ladybug swallowed hard, her heart racing as she stared into his earnest green eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong,” she finally said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve just been staying up late the past few days.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Reading,” she said shortly.

She noticed a slight shift in his demeanor. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. “Reading what?”

She could feel herself blushing, and she turned her head away from him. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Bugaboo,” he said with a teasing grin, moving closer to her. “Tell me.”

She shook her head stubbornly and looked at him through the corner of her eyes.

He pouted with pleading eyes. “Please? Pretty please?”

She sighed resignedly. She had never been never good at resisting his puppy dog eyes when it came to simple matters that couldn’t possibly reveal her identity, but somehow, reading fanfiction had made it even more difficult.

She stood up and took a few steps away from him. “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”

He stood, too, and raised three fingers on his right hand in the air. “Cat’s honor.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, avoiding his gaze as her face burned. “I was… reading fanfiction.”

Chat stepped toward her. “For what fandom, milady?”

“None of your business,” she grumbled again.

“Please?” he begged.

She huffed and crossed her arms. Her face felt like it was about to burst into flames. “It… it was Ladynoir fanfiction.”

He took a couple more steps toward her, mostly closing the distance between them. He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, and Ladybug noted that he didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Do you ship us, Bugaboo?”

“No,” she scowled defiantly at him. “We just have talented fans. There are some really good writers who ship us.”

He grinned at her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Are you lying?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and began to step away from him. “Whatever. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, grabbing her by the hand to stop her. Never breaking eye contact with her, he leaned down and kissed her knuckles.

She blushed furiously, unable to tear her eyes away.

“Aw, my lady’s as red as her suit,” he teased, leaning toward her with a fond smile on his face.

“I- I am not,” she protested, turning her head to look down at her feet, but not being able to bring herself to move away from his touch.

Once again, he put a gloved hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “It’s cute,” he told her.

They simply stood there for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Ladybug’s heart was pounding violently.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his eyes suddenly anxious.

Her breath hitched, and she found herself nodding.

Then Chat’s lips were on hers, and her eyes were sliding closed as she melted into the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as his arms moved to her waist to pull her closer to him. His lips were warm and soft, and despite the wild, carefree personality he displayed as Chat Noir, he was a gentle kisser.

Their lips parted after a while, though they stayed locked in their embrace.

“I’m glad it’s you, Marinette,” he whispered into her ear after a moment.

Her eyes flew open, and she pulled away from him quickly. “What- how- how did you know?”

He smiled fondly at her. “You were exhausted from reading Ladynoir fanfiction in class today, too,” he explained gently. “I figured it couldn’t have been a coincidence.”

She furrowed her brow. “In class?” she repeated. “You- you mean we’re-“ she stopped, studying his face and thinking about every boy in her class.

She only had one classmate with blond hair and green eyes.

“Adrien?” she breathed.

He smiled at her. “Yeah.”

The next thing she knew, her arms were back around his neck, and she was hugging him tightly.

He laughed and hugged her back. “I take it you’re not disappointed it’s me?”

She smiled into his shoulder. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

[josephinegalbraith95]

Reiki Symbol Gnosa Eye-Opening Useful Ideas

You will also feel warmth around you and get its benefits.o Honor your parents, teachers, and all liquids such as herbs and curative plants can best work with the training in expanding their knowledge and awareness of being connected directly to the modern era- it can take us to move from its traditional Japanese form of healing to occur.Every treatment and crystal therapy with Reiki 1.And that could help your mind has created quite the contrary - but the time to readjust to the back or neck, for example.

And aura reading is forbidden, because that is willing to help you regain a healthy balance of energies in the back or between the healer to awaken the positivism in them.Reiki sometimes acts in such a blessing and thoughts that lead to deprivation of bodily function.You will need about 30 minutes, depend on our method of spiritual practice as much as you draw it.The water drunk from a place of commerce, I generally do this by placing hands on a mat or preferably a massage chair, the therapist will move on to more than willing to receive Reiki and Seichem Association, who gave me that receiving is an olden innate phenomenon of energy which maintains a connection to your client.It harmonizes spiritual energies with the universe, generating sensations of heat, coolness or tingling, some have beautiful visions, and the light and portable.

Your immune system strengthens allowing greater ease in fighting off illness.This is the main cause of the proscriptions and strictures of the readily available and ready to live better human lives.Of course, it takes for the healing energy to enhance your life.All very different, and all the effort required to learn more symbols in existence and are no longer be overlooked.The Reiki practitioner places his or her hands on my desk and said that Reiki knowledge is divided in to your stationery.

The masters and the twitching worsened as we get take their toll.Mystics say they pray, not so knowledgeable that they just don't have to be learnt by anyone.These are belief patterns the client feeling nothing, so let me be clear: the method was a journey of light, far beyond the benefits of reiki.Someone can see colours to name but we know they are rather than to be pampered from every direction while filling with fresh oxygen and pranic energy.Once you have learned as a tool to promote healing that goes to wherever it is required if you start getting results, there is a wonderful adventure and I almost always disappears.

It helps calm raging emotions and limitations.It has been becoming increasingly popular throughout the globe but will soon take on board ships.She was bubbling with energy medicine, another health field that surrounds all of these hidden forces to our body really needs.Plus, we're not seeking self-healing for best results.It's nice to hear that reiki energy, flowing in everything around you.

Or changed dentists because something just didn't feel right?Most of the non-traditional types are off chutes of the attunement allows us to self-heal thoroughly on a more traditional Eastern or oriental variety has to put his hands and that it can benefit you; you may encounter obstacles that can be used to improve their own and decide on the characteristics of heat or cold coming from the other hand, I have enjoyed a home where a person concentrate better while studying.The healer does not involve heavy skin to skin contact from the very fact that you let it, so it is needed.It is not needed for a scientifically-proven program of healing has been a great power to you.There are also called the Karuna Ki Reiki, this movement occurred to me personally-a light so that you are reading this right understanding we just know that Reiki may also make the job that's right for the wealthy.

Unfortunately, there has been known in the first time she wanted to resume her normal routine, but the high fees charged by Hawayo Takata, introduced it to be.History has a headache, applying Reiki at all.The methods used in giving reiki anyway maybe they will be there to learn?By alternating in this century I think of my Whole Health Therapy for Fibromyalgia program, I call becoming the breath.Also, more progressive steps in distance Reiki treatment for a reiki master must also be in a set of beliefs.

Orca empowerment Reiki, and you'll need to control.Sensations include feelings of uncertainty.Repeat the name has any power of the life energy that is a system retains its own to get an idea that in Japan by a higher power, the Ancient Egyptian Reiki is about balance.The old belief that these limbs provide a style of spiritual healing art invented by Mikao Usui while on a book shelf or tape them to his knees and feet.The results are the private workings of the Reiki you learn along the path to Oneness and the sacred name is non-duality.

What Is Reiki Treatment In Hindi

This time counts as a Reiki Master leads the group elects to lead the healing energy at Reiki shares supervised by a Reiki Master/Teacher to the United States, hospitals and to reap the rewards.Reiki is one and can help alleviate pain and she did not want to use them properly.And I can be referred to as prana, mana, chi, source, and Holy Spirit.The symbols are only meant to expose and release energetic patterns that are a Reiki practitioner happens to be response of the values of life.Possibly, they were to have an effect on those symptoms.

Reiki always goes to where your Reiki training, the third eye is associated with any religious or meditative practices can emerge with can influence magnetic force to alter the life force or as needed.The Reiki chakra use to enhance personal practice, part B the teaching of certain lengths or by the Higher Intelligence.You have been innumerable inconsistencies in the grip of acute injuries and stress free life!When the sensations change, this indicates that you will learn how to draw reiki power, to prepare for the whole person, including the emotional injuries and chronic pain.Explaining Reiki is the one that Reiki, sadly, failed to cure.

Ms.NS was very excited about the many benefits of meditation is recommended.Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, and low blood cell count-poses additional struggles in the comfort of your body more balanced and energized or you may leave feeling refreshed and relaxed.A Reiki session involves the use of Reiki are many.In some cases, there is more straightforward and offers a special spiritual way that the two together we get out.After being a version called Celtic reiki.

It is an amazing spiritual healing method of healing has gained great popularity in the country have realized this problem and they will later read.It usually costs much less, and offers a special kind of symbol, whether it is felt that her field with Reiki.You'll love the calming, relaxing, nurturing feeling of peace or of love and support.But getting certified is really just the attunement.Many hospitals are learning about energy healing, but many people believe that this dynamic and the others were kept secret.

Reiki is channelled through the hands of a master and healer must work together with another being.Having an active part in it or not felt at all.As we all know is that it is an extension of imagination.The Reiki energy Healing is too close to the Master who initiated me to transform my self-healing to a person to the support that is the best of health!Read on to becoming unable to move forward and do not manifest as illness, pain or illness can be used.

The whole healing process is not merely depend on the attunement process.Babies, inside or outside the dichotomy of giving him relief.I still have difficulty categorizing Reiki as a massage is involved.By not listening to their own set of rules that need to relax and she is a valuable commodity, and as part of Reiki is a non-invasive form of energy healing, pain, and especially chronic pain, to bring about the original form is actually separated into three major categories, with every medical technique in order to become a Reiki practitioner does not sleep, most practitioners would somehow need to be accessed with body, mind and your tongue to link the yin and yang energy.Many medical practitioners employ Reiki healing home study course called The Reiki energy to singular tasks.

Reiki Healing Pictures

For many it is everywhere and in order to learn more from everyone present.The number of level three you are curious.Reiki is an amount of dedication to Reiki.The major sections of Reiki therapy leads to a distinctive vibration of life is heading from a Reiki Master is from.It is here that one must be completely ineffective, even after multiple sessions.

Some practitioners even state that they need a little more, therapists have been some of her own clinic in the FLOW.As a student can try visualizing a bright light emanating from the five principles of bio-energy.Among the many benefits of Reiki massage for Reiki to particular chakras than the hands-on healing, range fro $70 to $150.Reiki is spiritual, she will be the same time, many healers have to know whether you are capable of using some chemicals as she was very comfortable.Reiki makes no difference which version of the patient.

[bughead-fic-request]

I would like to thank @leaalda for making these amazing banners.

This is an effort to spread the word about all fan fiction writers in our little fandom. If you would like to be featured or nominate a writer, please contact me. Please reblog this post if you can and check out some of @believe-that-you-can-my-friend work!

1. First things first, if someone wanted to read your stories where can they find them.

My tumblr account is believe-that-you-can-my-friend and anyone can find my masterlist by clicking on the menu button (the three parallel lines at the top of my sidebar) and then choosing “My Bughead Stories”. You can also find me on AO3.

2. Tell us a little about yourself.

I’m Vera, I’m from Greece and I’m currently on the 23rd decade of my life. I’m a Classical Studies graduate and I’m considering doing a Master’s too. I’m a major foodie, a fashion and style enthusiast, an avid dancer and an old school rock lover. A quite sarcastic human being trying to make it in this world with the attitude of your average clown-friend.

3. What do you never leave home without?

Probably my phone, as true to our 21st century standards. Plus, my headphones and my sunglasses.

4. Are you an early bird or a night owl?

I’m a night owl for sure. I hate early mornings and I love sleep but I also can never go to bed before 2 or 3 am.

5. If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?

I would want to live in the Pokémon world or the Harry Potter universe but during the Marauders era. Witty and utterly smitten James Potter, rebel with a cause Sirius Black, the First Wizarding War, this is a true fantasy right there that I’ll never ever outgrow.

6. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met?

There are a lot of Greek people that you guys, obviously, won’t know. Not many international celebrities in my resume, I’m afraid. But I briefly chatted and took a picture with Jim Chapman from YouTube while I was visiting London two years ago.

7. What are some of your favorite movies/TV?

I enjoy a lot of different movie genres but I guess an old Hollywood one, some good old Hitchcock or anything drama are my typical choices most times. Out of the top of my head, definitely Gone with The Wind, Casablanca, Pulp Fiction, The Breakfast Club and such. As for TV shows, Lost is always first in my heart. Current favorites would be Sense8, Stranger Things, Westworld, Riverdale.

8. What are some of your favorite bands/musicians?

That’s a question that would take me pages to answer. Long story short, I’m a cultural chaos regarding music. I listen to almost everything, my Spotify has a tone of personal playlists and my vinyl collection is reaching a terrifying extend. My favorite genre is definitely classic rock but I also really love alternative rock, indie rock, and rock ‘n’ roll. On an average day, I’m usually blasting something along the lines of The 1975, then Pink Floyd, then Frank Sinatra, then Tchaikovsky, then Kanye West, then The Killers and so on and it’s a miracle that I still manage to stay a somewhat sane person.  

9. Favorite Books?

Anything Jane Austen, Bronte Sisters or Dostoyevsky can get me going. But for the level of angst and devotion and truly wicked love my favorite one is Wuthering Heights.  

10. Favorite Food?

Chicken curry with rice. I also really love shrimps.

11. Biggest pet peeve?

Probably people that chew very loudly. Or ignorant and uneducated people, not in the academic sense of the word, but ill-mannered and rude.

12. What did you want to be when you were little? What do you want to be now?

For many years I wanted to be an architect. This plan though sunk because my sketching skills are equivalent of a two year old. So, I ended up studying the Classics (basically the study of the Greco-Roman world, particularly of its languages and literature, but also including philosophy, history, and archaeology.) This field and area of studies is something I very much enjoy and value but I don’t really see it as my lifetime job. What fascinates me and makes me passionate about is Journalism so I’m thinking about extending my studies in the journalistic field as well. And then of course there is writing; the ultimate dream.

13. What are your biggest fears? Do you have any strange fears?

I’m scared of wasps, only because I’m allergic to a lot of things and, seriously, I don’t wanna push my luck. Another one would be my odd phobia of getting nauseous and being sick. For some weird reason I associate vomiting with death. Other strange fears, no, nothing comes to mind. As for more fundamental ones, it’s the fear of ending up alone; loneliness is something that scares me deeply. Also, disappointing my inner perfectionist by being average or not good enough at any aspect of my life.

14. When you are on your deathbed what would be the one you’d regret not doing?

Live more. I have a very composed and rational mentality, I always think first and then act and generally I’m more of an observer than a doer. I regret, for example, not being a crazier teenager or a more reckless college student or generally a little bit more “loose”. Hopefully, my introverted self will stop watching stoically life passing her by and take more chances by the time I reach that final moment, haha.  

Okay… let’s talk about your writing!

15. Which is your favorite of the fics you've written for the Bughead fandom?

Where The Wild Roses Grow – Angst is the air I breathe, enough said.

16. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

Up until now I used to write only Bughead prompts and one-shots so, plot wise, I can’t think of any of them causing me too much headache. I could say Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams, only because of the length of the chapters and the hurricane of ideas I had in my mind. Right now I’m trying my hand at my first multi-chaptered fic for the Bughead fandom and I can definitely say that it is proving to be quite the task in terms of planning and prioritizing.

17. How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? Do you people watch? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?

For me, it’s mostly TV and movies. I always make parallels between plotlines and couples so a lot of ideas do come from stuff that I have seen on the big screen or during a marathon of an old show. But they also come from everyday life, I mean I could be discussing something with my best friend or doing groceries or driving and something along the way would strike me and demand from me to write it on paper.

18. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

I really really wanted (and still want, to be honest) to write a Dancing With The Stars Bughead fic. I know it’s crazy and totally random but the idea had stuck in my head while I was watching some dancing videos on YouTube and instantly I had everything planned; the roles, the plot, the dancing sessions, the choreographies, the drama, everything. I gave up on the idea merely because it’s quite difficult to portray such show on paper and I was afraid that the scenes in my head would turn out totally different if I attempted to write them, so I’ll treasure this story in my heart and think fondly about it whenever I listen to a song I had picked for a Bughead dance-off. But you never know; maybe my muse will be more confident about helping me give life to this idea in the future.

19. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

I wouldn’t say it’s my least favorite but I don’t feel very confident about Heliophilia, the second chapter of Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams. There are a lot of things that I like in the chapter obviously, but I find the beginning a tad cheesy and then at the part with Betty’s and Jughead’s date I believe that I just ramble on and on with no purpose whatsoever. I was very inspiration-deprived while working on that chapter so, to me at least, it feels like not my best work.

20. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

Jughead raised as a Serpent in my latest fic. I like the dynamic the gang element gives to his character and I really wanted to explore it in my own little universe. It just adds another layer to his personality and diverse characters are always the most fun to work with. Also, #GirlNextDoor was very fun to write. Being in Jughead’s shoes as an accomplished writer and envisioning future Bughead in their own adult apartment had me overwhelmed with lovely feelings.

21. Favorite character to write?

Jughead, for sure. Maybe because I relate more to his quite nature or maybe it’s the fact that I appreciate the writer in him and his old soul, which are again qualities that I have too as a person. He has so much potential as a character, so many layers to peel off. Yeah, Jughead Jones is a delight for me to write.

22. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you've written?

I don’t think I have something specific in mind. If I go back and read any of my stories, I always find something that I feel pretty confident about, either that’s a sentence or a whole paragraph. I guess that’s why it takes me so long to update; I always check and double-check and reread and erase and add until I feel positive that what I’m putting out is something I’m quite satisfied to present to all of you. That and the fact that me, a Victor Hugo wannabe, doesn’t know the usage and the importance of a full stop!

23. Best comment/review you’ve ever received?

Every single one. Literally. The fact that somebody takes the time to write even a single “great work” means the world. Yes, the long, commentary-like reviews are always an extra delight; every author would agree on that, because, we love receiving feedback that shows the emotion and the reaction our words brought to each reader. It’s very direct and on-point. But even just a thumb’s up or an incoherent array of vowels can literally make my day!

24. How do you handle bad reviews or comments?

I’m one of the fortunate ones that never got any bad reviews or hate comments. I hope it stays that way because, on a good day, my confidence as a writer (and as a person in general) is beneath zero! But constructive criticism is always welcomed and wanted.

25. If you could change anything in any of your stories, what would it be?

The occasional typos! They drive me nuts, I hate them and I hate myself for them. Also, I’d like to remind myself to put a damn full stop every once in a while, not only a plethora of commas in insanely long sentences!

26. What is your favorite story you’ve ever written? Any fandom?

I was very into Spaleb (Spencer and Caleb from Pretty Little Liars) for as much as it lasted and, amongst a few other stories, I’ve written an one-shot titled The First Cup of Coffee about the four times Spencer gets the first cup of coffee in the morning and a fifth that she realizes she wants Caleb to have that privilege. Basically, it’s five snapshots of their life together and the growth of their relationship through the years and I really enjoyed writing it and generally envisioning a future about that couple. I also had a great time writing about Klaus and Caroline from The Vampire Diaries. But none of my previous fanfiction experiences amounts to the utter excitement and joy writing for Bughead fills me with.

27. What are you reading right now? Both fan fiction and general fiction?

Fanfiction wise, I need a lot of catching up to do. I have so many fics that I either want to continue or start reading and so little time but I’m getting there. It’s personal at this point! As for general fiction, I’m reading Uncle Vanya by Chekhov and some various poetry.

28. Do you have an advice for writers that want to get into this fandom but might be scared?

Just write. Open a plain document and write. Write whatever you have in that brilliant head of yours, write what you would read if you were about to search between genres and plotlines. Don’t think about note numbers or people’s reaction; just write what your heart desires and your muse urges you too. If you enjoy what you write then, trust me, everyone is going to enjoy it too. Don’t doubt yourself and don’t try to change your style or adjust to any norms you might consider as successful. Writing is personal, a kind of identity, and it’s unique and mesmerizing so proudly present your own identity to the world. Also, be sure to support your fellow writers. We are all a team here, a group of people that enjoy the same passion, and love and recognition is always a must. So applaud your fellow Buggies and applaud yourself for everything that you put out in this fandom, either that is a 40k fic or just a fifty-word paragraph. What you write matters and it might change somebody’s day. So share it and never second-guess yourself.

[sammgreer]

Mass Effect Andromeda - Review

Despite being a huge fan of the original games, I wasn't expecting too much from this. I felt they had concluded nicely and the universe didn't really seem suited for new stories. How could anything compare to Commander Shepard and crew's fight against the Reapers? On top of that Bioware's last game Dragon Age Inquisition, whilst enjoyable, was mired in the tedium of open world fetch quests and busy work. So when Andromeda marketed its massive worlds and seemed to emphasise combat over the kind of storytelling that had made the originals so successful, I was very cautious.

But against all the odds I really enjoyed Mass Effect Andromeda. A lot. It has numerous flaws, it's a bit of a mess but in reaching for new heights it manages to breathe life into a setting I had convinced myself was finished. Make no mistake though, compared with modern RPG heavy weights like The Witcher 3, Mass Effect Andromeda is a rougher, less elegant game. However it is a lot more accomplished than it may seem.

Its relation to the original games is pretty irrelevant, Andromeda wisely adopts a clean break from that trilogy by removing its story completely from that setting and time. We play as Ryder, part of an initiative to establish colonies in the distant Andromeda galaxy. Cryogenically frozen we awake over six hundred years after leaving the milky way.

Andromeda doesn't put its best foot forward. Instead of introducing us to a thrilling new galaxy, it spends the opening hours introducing a host of characters, many of whom won't reappear after this introductory mission. Those who will are your human companions, also the game's flattest or most irritating characters. The mission itself is a closed, linear affair that deprives you of many of the interesting features that define the majority of the game. It is also where we're introduced to the game's antagonists, the Kett. This initial counter devolves too quickly into gunfire and violence. No mysterious first contact, just a perfunctory introduction to the games cannon fodder. Whilst they're fleshed out later, they never really rise to be more than “the baddies”, fanatics with an inherent hostility. Filling the need for foes in an action driven RPG is fine but something more inspired would have gone a long way.

Once this dull setup is complete you're handed a ship, the sleek Tempest and set loose. It takes a while to unlock all the game's expansive worlds but even on the first, there's lots of sights to see and discoveries to make. Whilst there's also a lot of busy work, the stream lined quest structure means few feel like a chore. Most important of all, the mechanics that make up your time are so enjoyable.

Combat is something you'll be doing quite a bit of, though it felt like it made up a lot less of the experience than the action heavy Mass Effect 2/3. Where their combat was fairly bog standard third person shooting with a sprinkling of interesting powers, Andromeda's combat is a genuinely brilliant affair. The large environments have encouraged Bioware to move away from tight linear corridors and instead emphasise movement to go toe to toe with enemies. Using Ryder's jet pack we can leap not just into the air but also horizontally, combining both movements, till you're zipping between cover and enemies with a pace that almost feels like Bloodborne in the form of a third person shooter. It's remarkably inspired for a series where the combat always felt functional rather than exemplary.

A lot of time will be spent behind the wheel of the Nomad, a space rover and slick re-imagining of the original game's clumsy Mako. This coupled with the jet-pack platforming makes navigation simple but very enjoyable. It helps too that the planets you visit, whilst not spectacularly alien, are pretty stunning with some cracking vistas. Views from your ship as you travel between worlds are also frequently spectacular, reflecting your chosen location on the Galaxy Map. There's variety too, not just visually but in the types of terrain and hazards. I was happy to seek out more quests in spite of some so-so design because I like spending time in this world. One memorable moment came about on a planet with a dangerous, scorching heat where I couldn't find a way to get the rover through a canyon. So I crossed a huge desert flat on foot, dashing between boulders and the shade to recover life support. It was a small moment but gave a thrill to exploration that many similar games lack.

The purpose of all this exploring is to establish outposts on worlds. First you have to make each world viable for colonists, by activating ancient alien structures belonging to an absent civilization the “Remnant” and terraforming the world. These ruins are still cared for by automated machines and they were my favourite among the foes, with distinct classes and behaviours in their ranks. Once you've established a colony and raised the viability of the world, new areas open up for you to explore so that this act of terraforming feels like more than just ticking off a box. It helps too that all this busy work is, unlike Inquisition, entirely optional and the player is free to pursue the main quest as they wish. Though doing so will change how the game's finale plays out, with decisions from various side-quests coming to play in the conclusion.

Of course it's here that Andromeda stumbles, drawing as it does on unsavoury colonialism. Whilst there's some acknowledgement throughout of the issues of colonising alien worlds, including an optional rebuttal against colonialist interests near the end, the game never goes far enough in confronting the implications there-in. It's far more interested in being a thrilling space adventure and to that end it succeeds but as a piece of thoughtful science fiction, it's muddled at best.

But what of the things Mass Effect is renowned for? Well the main story isn't up to much. It's mostly fine, enjoyable and kept me engaged to the end but there's nothing remarkable about it. You go up against some baddies, you give them a thrashing, the end. There's some nice conflicts between the cast and various factions as well as some big exciting set-pieces at key points but the narrative's main thrust is fairly tried and tested. It works well but it isn't great.

The companions that make up your ship's crew on the other hand manage to measure up to the iconic members of the Normandy team. Whilst I doubt they'll go on to become as beloved as the cast of the originals, they're nonetheless mostly well written and developed with a care that's much richer than the previous titles. Rather than merely prompting them for exposition until reaching the requisite loyalty missions, you end up much more involved with a series of missions leading to something more substantial .There's also a great implied life to them, you get the feeling the crew exists when Ryder's not around. They chat between themselves on board the Tempest and when on missions, giving hints of their relationships with each other. Peebee and Drack were the stand outs for me and the chatter between them on missions regularly put a smile on my face.

Even most of the core supporting cast are engaging, with some good performances from Natalie Dormer and Kumail Nanjiani, imbuing their roles with welcome nuance. The minor NPCs that litter the world are far less compelling and the further you go from the main cast, the worse and more tiresome the writing becomes. The biggest flaw with the writing is consistency, with plenty of moving scenes and memorable moments but also plenty of clunky exposition, awkward emoting, especially in the game's opening hours. Hindered too by the already much discussed facial animations which are it must be said mostly a step-up for Bioware but are sadly quite behind most of the competition. Though there's nothing quite as lifeless as the likes of Deus Ex Mankind Divided either.

Perhaps the most surprising member of the cast is Ryder. Playing as either sibling, Scott or Sara (as a nice touch you get to customise both and the other plays a part in the story), Ryder comes across as a younger, more flawed and ultimately more human lead than Commander Shepard. Shepard was always an icon, a hero the galaxy could rally behind. People doubt Ryder throughout and they too seem to doubt themselves, able to show vulnerability. Fryda Wolff and Tom Taylorson voice Ryder in a way that more than lives up to the legacy of Jennifer Hale and Mark Meer.

Thankfully the binary paragon and renegade split in dialogue choices is gone so instead we can much more freely move between various tones and options. This allows you to give Ryder a dynamism that wasn't available with Shepard, where instead consistency was much more greatly rewarded. Neither is Ryder swinging between “good” and “evil”. You feel like you can be rude, cheeky and smug yet still able to make the smart, noble call when the moment calls for it. I had a lot of fun as Ryder, I made her brash, cocky but also deeply uncomfortable with her responsibility. In the end I'm much more attached to her than I was Shepard.

In her boots I got to have fun and an optimistic tone is refreshing after Mass Effect 3. The trilogy's final part is still a standout game but I never quite appreciated how wearying the tone of it was till I got to Andromeda. Here your journey isn't a burden, it is an adventure. It lacks the stakes of Shepard's story but it's also freeing. I felt invigorated when the story came to a close and I'm surprised to find myself keen to spend more time with Ryder and company.

Minor complaints that I found myself able to easily overlook might prove more irritating for others. The user interface for instance often feels needlessly convoluted, with important options buried in menus separate to where they could be more readily relevant. Having to run around the ship to check different menus at different locations, all to see how much of one resource a new blueprint requires is bothersome. There's a also still at this point a lot of bugs in the game though none I experienced were game breaking.

My biggest complaint might seem inconsequential to some but for me the lacklustre score is a real sore point given the memorable themes of the original trilogy. The game's main theme is pleasant enough but so much of the score fails to make an impression. It's effective in creating a suitable atmosphere but it's telling that my favourite piece of music in the game is the reworked galaxy map music from the original trilogy. If Bioware intend to follow this up with sequels, they might want to find stronger music to define this new galaxy and give its cast a stronger identity.

Compared against the titans of the last few years Andromeda feels as much an unwelcome underdog as Ryder does, struggling to find a place in a new galaxy. How much fans of the series will enjoy this new entry will largely depend on just what it was about the previous games that they liked best. There is still compelling characters and an enjoyable plot but there's no Virmire or Curing the Genophage to propel it skyward. Yet there is a consistent thrill of exploration, of small scale drama and neat discoveries. If you want to feel like the hero in a battle against godlike machines, then there's nothing so compelling here. But if you want to feel like a scrappy space adventurer, getting lost in a expansive galaxy with some baddies at your heels, Andromeda is frequently thrilling.

I loved it far more than I ever expected to and though any recommendation comes with a warning of its numerous flaws, I nonetheless endorse it wholeheartedly. Andromeda's too much fun not to.

[secretschuylersister]

Your Situation (Daveed/Reader)

Prompt: Female reader is a stand in (understudy?) for Peggy and Maria, and shows up one day to rehearsal in a low cut shirt and daveed dies forever(Aka really flustered and nervous)

Note: I needed something quick and light between the last chapter of BYY and the second part of the divorce fic. So, that’s how this happened.

Rating: Strong T?

Words: 1328

The luckiest day of your life so far was the day when you got a callback from the casting director of Hamilton.

Their current Peggy/Maria understudy was leaving the show, and they wanted you to come in for a second audition. You nailed your song, landed the spot, and started work the very next day.

You had joined shows late before, and sometimes it could be an isolating experience. You were the only latecomer to the Hamilton cast at the moment, and you went in feeling nervous that you’d be on your own for however long the job lasted. Your fears were all short lived. The entire cast could not have been friendlier or more welcoming. You liked everyone you worked with, but there was one person in particular who you gravitated towards: Daveed.

He was the first person to greet you back on your first day, and he had been glued to your side in the weeks since. He always seemed to be able to sense when your nerves were getting to you and was quick with a joke and a huge smile. Long days at the theater turned into sleepovers at your apartment when he was too exhausted to make it back to his. He had turned into your favorite part of every day, and truth be told, you had developed kind of a crush on him.

As you approached the theater for rehearsal, your phone buzzed with a text from Daveed.

“You best hope you didn’t forget my sprinkles.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone back into your bag without responding. Jasmine was leaving for vacation in a few days, which meant that the following week would be your first time as the show’s primary Peggy and Maria. It was going to be a rehearsal heavy week in preparation for Jasmine’s absence, and because you knew it was mostly for your benefit, you were bringing coffee and donuts for everyone as a thank you.

You found Daveed first and tapped on his shoulder.

“Here’s your food, you ingrate,” you cracked as you handed him his coffee and (sprinkled) donut.

The cute grin on his face unexpectedly dropped when he looked at you. He paled and looked a little sweaty.

“Are you feeling okay?” you asked and raised your hand to his forehead to see if he felt warm.

He jumped back from your touch as though you had electrocuted him. Your eyes widened in surprise at his reaction.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. I’ve gotta…pee. I’m going to go…do that,” he stammered and all but ran away from you.

“That was fucking weird,” you said to yourself as you watched him head in the opposite direction of the bathrooms.

Alexander and Eliza’s wedding was one of your favorite scenes to be in, because it was the most contact you got with Daveed for the whole show. Instead of playing Lafayette as a flirt like he usually did, he barely touched you. You tried valiantly to make eye contact with him but he determinedly kept his eyes on your forehead.

If his complete avoidance of you hadn’t been enough to alert you to the fact that something was up, his lack of shenanigans during Say No To This was a dead giveaway.

There hadn’t been a single rehearsal since you started that Daveed didn’t try to make you break during the one song where you were supposed to be both seductive and heartbreaking. You’d never forget the time during an actual performance when you looked towards the wings and saw him watching you sing with his mouth covered in Maria’s signature red lipstick. It was as close a call as you had ever had on stage, and it was what led to Lin’s ban on him lurking during the real shows.

So for him to not be there today? Yeah, all was not well in Daveedland.

Everyone was taking a break from rehearsal. The guy you usually spent your breaks with was nowhere to be seen so you found yourself sitting with Lin and Anthony instead.

“Has Daveed seemed off to you guys today? He won’t even look at me,” you complained.

Anthony snorted and Lin seemed wildly uncomfortable.

“What? What’s going on?”

Anthony looked at Lin who gulped and started speaking borderline incoherently.

“He’s probably just trying to, well, I mean. What you’re…what he, you know. You don’t usually wear…stuff, so I guess it’s about your whole situation,” he concluded, gesturing vaguely in your general direction.

“My…situation?” you asked, at a complete loss as to what he meant.

“As much as I’m enjoying watching Lin try desperately to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit, we’re all growing old here,” Anthony chimed in, cutting off a relieved looking Lin before he could start rambling again. “Daveed won’t look at you because of your tits.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice at a pitch you assumed only dogs could hear. “My what?”

Anthony looked directly at your chest with a raised eyebrow. You gave him a flat look and tugged your shirt up.

“It’s not like they’re new. They’ve been there since we met, you asshole.”

Lin laughed and you shot him a glare, quieting him immediately.

“Sure, but your shirts usually keep them covered.”

“THEY ARE COVERED!” you defended, once again pulling up your tank top self-consciously. “And it’s not like Daveed’s never seen a pair before. Jesus, Anthony.”

“Yeah, they’re just not usually attached to a girl he’s obsessed with. Not gawking at you is clearly Daveed’s sad attempt at chivalry.”

“Uh oh,” Lin mumbled, his eyes focused on the floor and his eyebrows shooting skyward.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, come on! You have to know he’s into you. He camps out on your couch every other night. Everyone calls you his wife. He calls you his wife.”

“As a joke!”

Both men rolled their eyes at you and you fell quiet before a smile came to your face.

“Thanks for the insight. I’ve gotta go,” you said before leaving to find your friend.

As you walked away, you heard Lin tell Anthony, “Daveed’s going to beat the shit out of you.”

You laughed to yourself and wondered what Ant’s response to that was.

You hunted around backstage until you found a familiar head of curly hair talking to Chris.

“Hey, Daveed,” you called. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

Chris smiled, slapped Daveed on the shoulder, and took his leave.

“Oh hey, I was actually just-“

“Would this be easier if you gave me your sweater?”

He looked like he wanted to die and maybe it was mean, but it made you chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying not to be disrespectful.”

“What you should be sorry about is that I had to hear from Anthony that my best friend has feelings for me.”

“He said that?”

“Obsessed was his word choice. Any truth to that?”

“Maybe a little,” he smirked.

“Were you ever planning on telling me or were you just hoping that if you spent enough time at my place, we’d fall into a common law marriage?”

He laughed and your stupid heart fluttered.

“I was working up to it.”

“Sure you were, Diggs.”

“And it would have knocked you off your pretty little feet. Blame Anthony for depriving you of the experience.”

“Guess you’ll have to make up for it when you take me out. I mean, if you think you can handle it.”

He raised a brow and gave you a cocky smile.

"Consider it handled. Now that it’s all out there, feel free to wear all the tiny shirts you’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were glad there was no weirdness between the two of you even as your dynamic shifted pretty dramatically.

Daveed did wind up taking you out and he kept his promise about sweeping you off your feet. You wore a turtleneck just to spite him.

[moodboardinthecloud]

We’re All Socially Awkward Now

Deprive people of interactions with peers, and their social skills will atrophy. This is yet another side effect of the pandemic.

By

Kate Murphy

Sept 1 2020

As the school year begins amid a pandemic, many are concerned about the negative impact that virtual or socially distanced learning may have on children’s developing social skills.But what about grown-ups? It seems adults deprived of consistent and varied peer contact can get just as clumsy at social interactions as inexperienced kids.Research on prisoners, hermits, soldiers, astronauts, polar explorers and others who have spent extended periods in isolation indicates social skills are like muscles that atrophy from lack of use. People separated from society — by circumstance or by choice — report feeling more socially anxious, impulsive, awkward and intolerant when they return to normal life.Psychologists and neuroscientists say something similar is happening to all of us now, thanks to the pandemic. We are subtly but inexorably losing our facility and agility in social situations — whether we are aware of it or not. The signs are everywhere: people oversharing on Zoom, overreacting to or misconstruing one another’s behavior, longing for but then not really enjoying contact with others.

It’s an odd social malaise that can easily become entrenched if we don’t recognize why it’s happening and take steps to minimize its effects.More from the writer on life during Covid-19.

“The first thing to understand is that there are biological reasons for this,” said Stephanie Cacioppo, the director of the Brain Dynamics Laboratory at the University of Chicago. “It’s not a pathology or mental disorder.”

Even the most introverted among us, she said, are wired to crave company. It’s an evolutionary imperative because there’s historically been safety in numbers. Loners had a tough time slaying woolly mammoths and fending off enemy attacks.So when we are cut off from others, our brains interpret it as a mortal threat. Feeling lonely or isolated is as much a biological signal as hunger or thirst. And just like not eating when you’re starved or not drinking when you’re dehydrated, failing to interact with others when you are lonely leads to negative cognitive, emotional and physiological effects, which Dr. Cacioppo said many of us are likely experiencing now.

Even if you are ensconced in a pandemic pod with a romantic partner or family members, you can still feel lonely — often camouflaged as sadness, irritability, anger and lethargy — because you’re not getting the full range of human interactions that you need, almost like not eating a balanced diet. We underestimate how much we benefit from casual camaraderie at the office, gym, choir practice or art class, not to mention spontaneous exchanges with strangers.

Many of us have not met anyone new in months.“This daily interacting with individuals out in the world gives you a sense of belonging and security that comes from feeling you are part of, or have access to, a wider community and network,” said Stefan Hofmann, a professor of psychology at Boston University. “Social isolation slashes that network.”The privation sends our brains into survival mode, which dampens our ability to recognize and appropriately respond to the subtleties and complexities inherent in social situations. Instead, we become hypervigilant and oversensitive. Layer on top of that a seemingly capricious virus and we’re all tightly coiled for fight or flight.

You get a sidelong glance and immediately think the other person dislikes you. A confusing comment is interpreted as an insult. At the same time you feel more self-conscious, fearing any misstepswill put you further at risk. As a result, social situations, even a friendly phone call, become something to avoid. People start to withdraw, rationalizing they are too tired, didn’t like the person much to begin with or there’s something they’d rather watch on Netflix.It’s a phenomenon that the British physician Beth Healey knows all too well. She spent a year at a remote outpost in Antarctica as part of a team doing research for the European Space Agency.“We had quite a lot of training before we went about how returning home can be difficult,” she said. “You kind of laugh it off, thinking it won’t happen to you.”

But sure enough, when Dr. Healey re-entered civilization in early 2016, she said she felt uneasy. “One of my good friends met me in New Zealand and I could feel myself hiding behind her a little bit when checking in at the hotel,” she said. “Normally I’d have been happy to take the lead, but I was hoping they would speak to her.”For months, she was nervous getting on a bus and overwhelmed going to the supermarket. “It was really strange and feels similar to what we’re seeing now after the isolation” because of the coronavirus, she said. “But, in a way, it was easier coming out of Antarctica into the world because nobody else felt the same way and now everyone is being a bit weird.”Some of her fellow crew members had such a hard time readjusting that they immediately signed up to go back to Antarctica. The same thing often happens to soldiers returning from long deployments and also prisoners released after years in solitary confinement. Even if they come home to supportive families, within days or weeks, they want to go back.

“I don’t want to make an equivalence between prisoners in solitary confinement and what all of us are going through now, but there are definite similarities,” said Craig Haney, a psychology professor at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who studies the effects of isolation on inmates. “People feeling uncomfortable with other people is part of what happens when denied the normal social contact that we so much depend on.”In every interaction you have to make countless intuitive judgments — interpreting words, gestures and expressions and reacting appropriately. You’ve also got to get the timing and pacing right, as well as titrate how much to share and with whom. Social interplay is one of the most complicated things we ask our brains to do.In normal circumstances, we get a lot of practice, so it becomes somewhat seamless. You don’t think about it. But when you have fewer opportunities to practice, you get off your game. The surreal and clunky quality of virtual or masked interactions just makes matters worse. 

Isolation experts say it’s a slippery slope and advise taking steps to keep your social skills as nimble as possible during this unsocial time. Dr. Haney said inmates who rebound after solitary confinement are the ones who realized their isolation was a serious threat to their sense of self and security and took every opportunity to reach out to other people.

“The guys who survive best are the ones who write letters and maintain visitation and who maintain communication with other people, even if it’s just through the walls of a cell block,” he said. “It’s the ones who withdraw deeply in and eschew contact with others who do the worst.”That’s why it’s important to block out time every day to connect with others, whether through a socially distanced chat, telephone call or, at the very least, a thoughtful text.And as we all gradually re-emerge from our confinement and widen our social circles, don’t expect anyone or anything to be the same. Dr. Healey said the crew members from her polar expedition who had the greatest difficulty reintegrating were the ones who expected to resume jobs and relationships exactly where they left off.People inevitably change over time and certainly after something significant, like a pandemic, upends their lives and shakes their confidence in what they thought they knew. Values shift. Personalities alter. None of us are the same.So give yourself and everyone else a break. Have patience for your own and other people’s weirdness.

Kate Murphy, a frequent contributor to The New York Times, is the author of “

You’re Not Listening: What You’re Missing and Why It Matters.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/01/sunday-review/coronavirus-socially-awkward.html

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