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withlovewriting · 4 months ago

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 16: Silent Night

Chapter Sixteen.

Footsteps without a sound, I'm coming home to you, Snowfall blankets the ground, It covers the ugly truth, Things that we hide from view, I get tired around this time, But I will try to make things right, Bring your arms around me fast, Warm my bones and fill my glass, God, I hope this year's better than the last

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,867

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of past childhood trauma, underage drinking, wintertime fluff. I think that's it. Also barely proofread because I really just wanna get this chapter out so apologies in advance for any mistakes, feel free to let me know.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Taglist: @kezibear

Chapter Sixteen: Silent Night

Winters in the Midwest could be dire. Freezing winds rattled your bones and burrowed deep inside them, leaving you to feel their effects for days on end, and cold, wet snow that you often believed you'd sink right through, ending up in the middle of the Earth.

Yet despite the frosty weather, Hawkins in the winter was often referred to as picturesque with all the charm of the Walton's Christmas movie. But you were yet to see it. To feel it.

After the accident that viciously stole your sister from your life, followed shortly by your father's sudden exit, your mother had never really bothered with the holidays again, and maybe a bare Christmas tree in the living room would've been a more painful reminder than no tree at all. Either way, you couldn't remember much about the holidays when your sister was alive, but you were more than aware that there was a version of your family before, and a version after.

But you did come close to feeling it, just one time.

When you were around 9, you had been invited to spend the day at the Holland's home, where Barbara's mother watched you both through the window as you made slightly crooked snow angels, a poor excuse of a snowman that even had a carrot for a nose and a hat and scarf lent to you by Mr. Holland, who was warming up some hot cocoa as his wife whizzed around the kitchen, warm chocolate chip cookies cooling on the side as she hummed along to her Andy William's Christmas record.

It had been a peaceful few hours, and you knew deep in your soul that this was what Christmas was supposed to be about. In the company of loved ones; singing and dancing, and enjoying the time off work and school. Freezing your bones off during a snowball fight, only to warm back up with hot drinks, and a warm bath before bed.

But it didn't last long. Despite the promise of a warm, filling meal, your mother had turned up, tugging at your arm and half dragging you back through the snow as Mrs. Holland rushed after you both with your coat in hand. Your mother would then drive back home, half-cut and full with a mixture of annoyance and nostalgia. You knew what it was now, of course, but back then, your brain couldn't begin to understand how awful a thing grief was, and what it could make people do, make them say.

Hopper had tried once, not long after he'd called an end to the relationship with your mother. But you had been sure that the man wanted nothing to do with you, despite his turning up with a poorly wrapped gift on Christmas Eve. You'd stared at him for just a moment before shutting the door in his face and leaving him to the wrath of your mother should he insist on knocking again, silently pleading that he would. That no matter how many times you slammed the door in his face, or glared at him across the wobbly kitchen table, he would fight for you.

But he didn't, and you couldn't blame him for that, just as you couldn't be blamed for your fierce loyalty toward your mother.

Eventually, however, you would always find yourself awaiting her inevitable drunken slumber, covering her with a blanket before sneaking out into the dark winter night.

The coffee in the police station tasted like dirt, but it was hot, on tap, and most importantly, free. So you'd make your way there, too worried to drive the car in case the engine managed to wake her, and like clockwork, Flo would hand you a bitter cup of coffee in a slightly chipped white mug and send you through to Hopper, who would already be boring you with some spiel about how it wasn't safe for you to be out walking in bad weather conditions.

You'd watch the snow fall from his office window as he huffed and puffed through the night, claiming he couldn't tell you about any of the 'cases' going on in town, due to their confidentiality. That barely lasted an hour, however, and soon the man would be offloading his annoyance about how Mr. Gillespie had threatened to sue Mr. Caulfield because he'd cut down some overhanging branches from his tree, the latter claiming he would have to rake his garden twice a week because of his neighbor's overgrown tree. Hopper grumbled that they would be lucky if he didn't chop the damn thing down himself.

He had moved to New York to get away from these damn small-town problems and make a difference in the world. Yet, here he was, filing paperwork about how Mrs. Gillespie — he was beginning to think their family was the bane of all his problems — wanted to sue the park for an owl that had mistaken her hair for a nest and began to attack her, which with the amount of hairspray she used, he couldn't blame the damn animal. You wondered if now Hopper missed the quiet, tedious days before Hell opened up and spat out a couple of monsters.

But the Christmas of 1984 was different.

Your mother's meal remained plated up — but by this point, stone cold — on the side and you figured if she awoke and suddenly developed some respect for herself and her taste buds, she could help herself to your still-boxed meal that you just didn't have the stomach for.

You'd returned to your bedroom, a headache gnawing at the edges of your scalp as you considered whether or not you'd be able to get away with turning down the volume of the TV as your mother slept, spread out on the lumpy couch — you did pay the electrical bill that month, after all — when a loud knock echoed through the house, causing you to leap up from your bed and rush to the front door before the perpetrator had the chance to do it again, most likely waking your mother.

Almost ripping the door off its hinges, your glare dwindled to nothing more than a cocked brow as you came face-to-face with Eleven. A thick, heavy jacket hung from her small body and you could tell from how new it looked that she had received it that morning as a gift from Hopper.

“El? What are you doing here?”

Her smile was sweet, full of childlike excitement, and you wondered if this was her first real Christmas with gifts, visitors, and carolers. Even after escaping the lab, her first Christmas in Hawkins was in hiding with Jim. Same bird, different cage. But now… She had been officially adopted by Hopper — forged adoption papers be damned — and was able to experience a real family Christmas for the first time. You couldn’t help but wonder if Hopper's gift-wrapping skills had improved, and how burned was the turkey?

El's eyes darted toward the parked vehicle out front, “Hopper and I came to collect you.”

“For what?” You questioned, dumbfounded.

“It's Christmas,” Eleven grinned, wide and winsome, as if you were a total idiot.

Your rehearsed excuse was already sitting on the edge of your tongue, and you were fully prepared to turn the girl down no matter how shiny her puppy-dog eyes were, but the words that came out of her mouth next shut you down quickly, “We're going to have a real Christmas dinner together. Hopper said that's what real families do.”

Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you willed your eyes to not well up as a lump crawled its way up your throat, threatening to expose you for the sad, lonely, and unloved girl you really were. The same six-year-old girl who wept for her mother to wake up as she was starving on Christmas day. The same 9-year-old girl who had felt a glimpse of being wanted before her mother cruelly dragged her backward through the snow in her friend's front yard. The same 15-year-old who wandered through a town much more dangerous than she'd ever know, heading toward the yellow, dingy lights of the police station, toward the only person in her life who had shown her that she meant something to someone. To anyone.

Peering toward the man of the hour, you found Jim watching the scene before him with his window rolled down as he leaned out into the cold, winter air, “C'mon, Kid. Turkey ain't gonna baste itself.”

You didn't mean to slam the door in the poor girl's face, a small gasp falling from her lips that could be heard through the wooden door as you stared at it for a moment. Spinning around, you grabbed your jacket and hat from the wonky coat peg, haphazardly throwing it on before rushing toward your room, knees aching as the floorboards creaked under them as you blindly searched for the wrapped box you'd hidden under your bed a few weeks ago.

Returning to the hall, you took a few cautious steps inside the living room. Your mother remained steadfast in her drunken slumber, snoring almost drowning out the TV, and you took a moment to decide if you really could leave her, but a timid knock on the front door made your decision for you.

El's hand was raised high, but her attention was focused on a concerned-looking Hopper as you pulled the door back open. Moving past her frozen body and closing the door quietly behind you, you eventually settled on her, present under one arm as you held out your other hand to her, “The driveway gets a little slippery in the snow.”

You passed by the snow-covered trees slowly, Hopper's cautious driving surprising you for a moment as he hummed along to the radio. El had seemingly not taken a breath since the moment you'd entered the car, telling you all about her day so far, and how Hopper had bought her gifts but wouldn't let her open them until after he'd drank at least two cups of coffee. You hated to interrupt her, but you couldn't help slamming your hand on top of Hopper's seat, the man jumping as you pulled him from his bubble.

“Can we stop somewhere first? There's something I need to do.”

Hopper's tires barely kicked up any snow left on the long driveway, and you assumed it had already been shoveled for the party the family no doubt held the evening before.

The boy's room faced the pool at the back of the house, so you had no option but to knock on the large red door, trying to blink away the memories of the last time you'd done this, Barb and Nancy beside you, before everything had turned to shit. Well, shittier, you supposed.

You wondered how the Hollands were fairing this year, another year without their only daughter, who was now laid to rest in the cemetery in town. You'd have to visit them, you decided. No matter how awkward and uncomfortable it was for you, Barb's family had been there for you in times when no one else had.

For a moment, you wondered if anyone was even home. It was a large enough house that maybe they couldn't hear a simple knock from a few rooms away, but eventually, the door opened wide, another familiar memory of Steve Harrington appearing in the doorway, his eyes roaming over you with the same perplexity that it had just over a year ago. Only this time they softened much sooner, despite the confusion that still clouded them.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hi,” You swallowed, face pinching in embarrassment as you stood on the boy's doorstep awkwardly.

“Is everything okay?” His brow pinched, eyes roaming over you once more and only settling back into place when he realized you were uninjured, nodding like a damn bobbing-head doll in a car.

“Yeah, no. Everything's… It's fine. I just…” taking a deep breath, you couldn't fathom why your heart was beating so loudly in your ears. Maybe it was because of your audience, the piercing stare of both Hopper and Eleven making your face feel much too warm in the cold weather, or maybe it was the fear that Steve very well could reject your offer.

You were friends, you both knew that by this point. And friends hung out, as you often did. But Christmas was a time for family, as El had told you, and here you were, about to ask him to ditch his parents to hang out. It felt silly to be so worried about something so trivial, but you couldn't stop the pounding in your chest.

“I know you're probably busy, but, uh… I was just wondering if you had any plans tonight.”

Steve watched you for a moment as if waiting for the punch line of a joke that he would inevitably be the butt of, but as the silent seconds passed and you visibly became more self-conscious, he finally realized you were not joking.

“Oh, uh… I'm not doing anything, actually. My parents are still pretty hung over from their party last night, but… Yeah, I can do, you know… Whatever.”

A loud honk of the Chevvy caused you to startle, turning quickly to send a glare toward its owner, who continued to watch the scene in front of him, unbothered by the lack of privacy he was giving you both.

“You wanna join us at Hopper's? He's threatening everyone with food poisoning if we don't, so…”

Steve had already eaten, his parents serving Christmas dinner closer to lunchtime, but he couldn't find it in himself to refuse the invitation. Last year, he had spent his Christmas Eve at the Wheeler's residence and although he was coming to terms with the fact Nancy and Jonathan were now definitely an item, he couldn't quite shift the loneliness that he felt, a year later, laying on his bed and throwing an old baseball up toward the ceiling repeatedly in silence as his mother rested in her room, his father locking himself away in his office, claiming he had unfinished work that just couldn't wait one more day.

“I could eat,” Steve nodded, a small smile creeping onto his mouth as he watched yours do the same.

You felt as stuffed as the turkey that was sat atop the small dining table. It was a squeeze to fit you all around it, you pretty much had El sat on your lap for the majority of the meal, but as you collected the plates, you felt a warm, full sensation in your chest that you hadn't felt before, and couldn't blame on your second helping of mashed potato.

“Leave it, Kid. I'll do it before bed.”

Ignoring Hopper's protests, knowing that he damn well would not do the dishes before bed, you continued toward the small kitchen, pilling the plates on the small draining board as El joined you to scrape the leftovers into the trash can.

Hopper was already sprawled back against the armchair, legs wide and pants unbuttoned as he turned his attention to the TV in front of him, despite the volume being too low to hear much.

“Uh, thanks for letting me join tonight,” Steve cleared his throat, his back a little too straight to be at ease as he sat on the small couch.

“Wasn't my idea,” Hopper took a sip from his bottle of Coca-Cola before resting it back onto his jean-clad knee, “Kid wanted to stop by.”

Steve nodded, his eyes flitting toward where you stood scrubbing the stubborn gravy stain from the pot as El blew some remaining bubbles at you from a plate. Flicking some of the water in her direction, Hopper's attention turned toward you both when he heard the younger girl gasp lightly, her eyes wide as a smile stretched across her face.

“Hey, girls, don't start-”

Hopper's words were futile as El dipped her own hand into the sink before flicking the dirty water back at you, reveling in your hearty laugh that he wasn’t sure he’d ever really heard before.

“Not with your parents tonight?” Hopper questioned, his eyes finally settling on the boy who sat to his right.

“Uh, we hung out this morning. Dad had some work to finish up though…”

Hopper watched as the boy ran his hand through his hair, his eyes on the TV, but he could tell Steve wasn't really paying attention to the movie. He hadn't had much of an opinion on the Harrington boy before, originally passing him off as another old money, trust fund kid who rebelled against his parents until he'd eventually end up with a life just like his father's.

The irony wasn't lost on Jim as his own father — the old Chief of Police — flashed in front of his eyes, brows stern before letting out a dejected sigh so loud he was sure the whole town could hear it.

“Well, she's glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too…” Steve nodded, an awkward, tight-lipped smile sent the Chief's way before his eyes slowly trailed back towards where you stood next to the younger girl.

“So, since someone didn't have any ingredients to make a pie,” you began, a side eye sent Hopper's way, “El came up with the brilliant idea to make our own dessert.”

“Eggos?” Hopper sighed, rubbing his stomach. Only moments ago he was certain his stomach would burst at the mention of food, but now… Well, a sweet treat didn't sound so bad.

“Eggos,” El confirmed, perching on the sofa and taking a large bite from her first waffle.

Bringing a plate over to Hopper, he took it with a grateful smile as you returned to the small kitchen. Steve mustered the energy to push himself up, joining you only a few feet away from his previous seat, “I'll, uh… I'll help.”

“You're the guest,” you began, “and I think I can toast a couple of Eggos without burning the place down.”

Steve huffed, an amused smirk pulling at his mouth as he cocked a brow and all but snatched the box from your hands, “Just accept the help, for my sake. I think if Hopper glares at me any harder I'll be the one being set on fire.”

Leaning against the small counter, you watched as he went about heating the waffles before eventually plating them up. Standing side by side, you chewed in silence, eyes darting from the small TV to Steve every so often.

“I'm sorry for dragging you out on Christmas day just to sit and eat Eggos in a cabin in the middle of the woods, but I'm glad you're here.”

Steve stopped mid-chew, quickly swallowing the bite of waffle he'd only just shoved into his mouth, “No, no, it's uh… It's been nice, you know? I was only gonna watch some lame movie on my own anyway.”

The moment of silence that passed between you was briefly interrupted as childlike giggles from El filled the room, watching as Uncle Scrooge McDuck made amends with the Cratchit family. Your eyes softened slightly as you watched the young girl who could barely peel her eyes away from the TV set.

“Are you, uh, going to Lewensky's New Year's party?” Steve asked, his head tilting toward you slightly as he lowered his voice, all too aware of Hopper's not-too-distant presence.

The scoff fell from your lips before you'd even realized, “I'm sure my invite got lost in the mail. Plus, after last Halloween… high school parties really are not my forte.”

Steve's eyes dropped to his feet at the mention of Tina's last party, the memory of Nancy's drunken, harsh words was still a wound that was slowly scabbing over, “Yeah, yeah I get that.”

Taking a deep breath, you placed your plate into the sink and focused back on the boy who had since last year, had his life completely turned around. He'd lost more than you'd originally presumed, but because Steve had money, you had felt that no matter how bad Steve's life got, he would never have to steal for food, bundle up in every warm outfit he had just because he couldn't afford to warm the house or pick up extra jobs to keep a roof over his head. He would always have a sense of security that couldn’t be taken from him.

But Steve had lost parts of himself along the way. Some good, some bad. But looking at the sinewy boy standing next to you, you knew it was for the best. From his asshole friends who kicked him down as soon as he slipped from the top rung of the school hierarchy ladder to Nancy, the girl who had somehow stopped his straying eye and made him believe in love, despite breaking his heart along the way because she fell in love with a boy who wasn't him.

But now, Steve had gained friendships that didn't depend on what he could do for them, or how popular he was. They were no longer transactional and instead relied on how much they cared about him, and how far they were willing to go to keep each other safe. And even if you assumed it would feel like a consolation prize to the boy, Steve now had you and your unwavering loyalty, even if your friendship had originally felt like a slow-building, forced-together situation. He had saved your life multiple times now, and eventually, one day, you would both come to the realization that you had both in fact, saved each other.

“You never told me what happened at that party. Why everything seemed to go to shit after it.”

Steve's plate joined yours in the sink, and he was grateful that he'd already finished his waffles, as his stomach sank and he lost any type of appetite he'd had left, “I should, uh… I should probably get going.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you couldn't help but feel like an asshole. It had been less than two months since whatever went down with him and Nancy at Tina's party, and here you were, pick, pick, picking at his wounds because of your own curiosity. Nosiness. Inability to just let things lie. You sent the boy a strained smile which he returned before pushing himself away from the counter and toward the small living room,

“Uh, we're gonna head out. Thanks for dinner though, Chief. I had a great evening.”

Hopper's brow raised as he turned his attention toward you, then back to the boy, “It's late, I should drive you home.”

Before you left, you handed El the small gift-wrapped present, watching as her eyes lit up like the Christmas tree in downtown Hawkins. With a quick nod of reassurance from you, she began to tear off the paper, a large smile covering her face when she pulled out the cassette tapes from the old, wrapped shoe box, eyes scanning over the black and white picture of Bryan Adams. Only a handful were new, most being your old tapes, mixed tapes you'd made or been gifted by Jonathan throughout the years, hours worth of music she could discover,

“Now you don't have to listen to the old man's music.”

“Hey,” Hopper warned, despite his voice holding no real offense, “Nothing wrong with a bit of Jim Croce.”

“I'm not saying there is, unless, you know… you're a thirteen-year-old girl.”

“Right, that's enough out of you. Go get my keys.”

Once school had broken up, December always seemed to move slowly. The days blended together, and if not for work, you wouldn’t know what day it was. The arcade opened back up on the 27th and your manager was all too aware that with the children off for the holidays, at some point, the parents would get sick of them and send them out for the day, and most of them would make their way to the warm arcade. You’d managed to pick up an extra shift or two, thankful to be working with Keith and not Andy, the latter all but begging you to pick up his New Year's Eve shift. So you’d made your way to work, finishing just after 10. Keith could be an absolute pain in your ass when he wanted to be, but you couldn’t deny that he did a better job closing the arcade than Andy did, and actually did his fair share of cleaning, meaning you were able to get home quicker, especially with the boy dropping you off as the snow had started to fall once more.

Now you’d been back home for a while, you’d settled on your bed intending to read before bed, yet here you were sat staring out of your bedroom window, a book opened, but otherwise untouched as it remained perched on your lap. The snow finally settled, peaceful and undisturbed and you wished you could drown out the noise of your mother’s television show, — Happy New Year, America — the volume turned up so loud that it managed to drown out her incessant snores. You wondered if it was something she did in an attempt to drown out whatever turmoil she’d dream about, but with the amount she drank, did she even dream anymore? Or was her mind as dark and lonely at night as it was in the day?

The red lights from your alarm clock flickered, 11.32pm, and soon the town of Hawkins would ring in the New Year, the rest of America following behind shortly. People make resolutions to work harder, eat healthier, attend more aerobic classes, and only cheat on their wives with their secretaries on Tuesdays and Thursdays evenings. Promises to themselves that would be broken by the first week of February.

All you wanted was a quiet year. You didn’t need a pity party, but your life up to this point, had been difficult, to say the least. Since 1977 your resolutions have mirrored wishes. Hopes and dreams for the next year, akin to what you might’ve wished for when blowing out your birthday candles if you’d ever had a cake. A peaceful 1985, with no interdimensional monsters lurking around the corner, or curly-haired mullet-wearing Californian boys who wanted nothing but trouble. Or whatever the hell had possessed Will.

Blinking a few times, you tried to focus on the book and lifted it from your lap as if that would help, but the words were simply blurring into one big, inky mess on the page. Closing your eyes tightly, you pushed your face into the open pages of the book and let out an exasperated groan. Of course, you could’ve just gone to bed, woke up on January 1st, and continued your life as usual, but something forced you to remain awake. You needed to see this year through, right until the end, even if just to prove to yourself that you had survived it.

You couldn’t wait to see the back of 1984 and hoped the door did, in fact, hit its ass on the way out.

Releasing a long sigh, a cold shiver ran over your skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps, and the unnerving feeling that you were being watched caused a thick, tense air to settle around you, leaving you almost too scared to remove the book from your face, frightened to catch a glimpse of whatever was waiting out there waiting, observing you.

At best, it would be a peeping tom, but at worst? Well, wouldn’t it just be your luck to enter the new year with the same monsters you were hoping to permanently leave behind, chasing you into 1985? If there was no rest for the wicked, you’d hate to think of what you did in a previous life, something so heinous that karma had crossed over into this one, haunting you still.

A sharp knock against the glass forced your body into movement, the book flying from your hands and into the direction of said sound as if the old, worn copy of ‘A Room of One’s Own’ that you had yet to return to the library would suffice against any kind of intruder.

But before the book could clatter to the floor, dislodging some of the pages that were already clinging on for dear life, your eyes met those honey-colored familiar ones, the boy jumping at the collision of the book, only inches from his face despite being protected by the glass that separated them.

Releasing an annoyed huff of breath from your mouth, you pushed yourself from your bed and all but stomped toward the window, cringing as it scraped and squeaked against the windowsill.

Swallowing down your embarrassment and finally feeling your heart slow down, you sent a glare to the boy, one he happily returned.

“What the hell are you doing here, Harrington?”

Scoffing, the boy’s frown deepened, “You’ve got a hell of an arm, you know that?”

“Oh please, the window was closed. I probably did more damage to my book than I would’ve to your face.”

The crease between his eyebrows smoothed out as he took you in. He’d asked Nancy about the flashlight incident of 1983 after overhearing part of your conversation whilst you comforted his ex-girlfriend in the Holland’s bathroom, being told all about your ability to throw inanimate objects into the face of your enemies. Turns out, it was a habit — or rather, a reflex — you’d be taking into the new year with you.

“What are you doing here?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve placed an arm through the window frame, trying in vain to move you aside, “I was at Mark Lewensky’s party, and it totally sucked. Can I come in? It’s freezing-”

“My mom’s home,” you told him simply, as if she wasn’t out cold, sprawled across the couch. But your mother had been very clear about boys being in her home without her knowledge. It was just a shame she didn’t care as much regarding the men she brought home.

With a cocked brow, Steve watched you for a moment before bending over to grab something on the snow under your window, eventually holding up the bottle of cheap alcohol he’d swiped from the party before taking his leave, “I brought a gift."

You considered the boy for a moment, eyes glancing toward your alarm clock, still sitting pretty on your nightstand, the red numbers almost taunting you in a way you couldn’t describe.

11.46

If you really wanted to, you could easily send the boy off, tell him to go home, or even just go sit in his car and drive around town, and he’d do it. You could crawl into bed, pull the covers up over your head, and pretend that this whole year didn’t happen. Or, you could ring in the new year with some shitty vodka warming your belly, and a friend by your side. A friend who looked just as finished with 1984 as you were.

“Just… give me a second, alright?”

Furtively, you grabbed your denim jacket, hat, and blanket from your bed before shoving on a pair of sneakers and clambering out of your window, causing Steve to fumble backward to avoid getting headbutted. Recovering quickly, Steve helped you down onto the soft snow, now sullied with the prints from his shoes.

“C’mon,” you mumbled, closing your window a little more in an attempt to keep your bedroom at least mildly warm before grabbing the sleeve of his jacket and wandering toward the back of your house where the slightly splintered trellis sat against a wall, reaching up far enough that you were able to climb onto the slight slope of your roof.

Steve, however, looked much less certain, worry evident in his quizzical eyes as they moved from you, to the trellis, and back to you,

“It’s fine, Steve. I’ve been climbing this thing since I can remember.”

Grumbling under his breath, Steve not-so-nimbly started his own ascent, arm high in the air for you to grab the bottle until he eventually settled in next to you on the blanket. It wouldn’t stop the cold snow that you’d half-scraped off the roof eventually leaking through, but it was at least a little more comfortable.

After opening the bottle and taking a long sip, Steve handed it toward you, watching as you gulped down a mouthful of the drink, face screwing up just as his own did moments ago.

“So, why’d the party suck?”

Steve accepted the bottle when you held it out to him, taking another large gulp, “It’s just not my scene anymore, you know?”

“Wow,” you huffed out a fake laugh, “never thought the day would come when the Keg King of Hawkins doesn’t want to party.”

Steve rested the bottle in his lap, fingers picking at the peeling label, “Yeah, well, you’re the one spending New Year’s alone with your face in a book. Literally.”

“And somehow, I was still having a better time than you were.” You shrugged, sending the boy an impish smile.

You both remained quiet for a moment, but you could feel the awkward tension that had settled over you back at Hopper’s before you’d left. You and your big mouth had ruined a good evening, and you couldn’t help the heavy feeling of guilt that had settled on your chest since.

“I’m sorry about Christmas, you know? Bringing up the whole Nancy thing. It’s not my business and I shouldn’t pry. And I’m sorry for bringing it up now, too. I just… I felt bad.”

Steve sighed and took another sip of the drink before handing it back to you, his eyes remaining focused on you as he took a deep breath, all too aware that you were looking anywhere but at him now. He hadn’t been avoiding you since the awkward end to Hopper’s Christmas meal. You’d been busy with work and he… Well, he had been sulking in his room alone for the most part. But he’d come to the realization at the New Year’s party that he really didn’t have that many friends, even back when he was swanning around the school like he owned the place.

And maybe, being open and honest to someone would help him move past the shit he’d dealt with this year. Maybe it could help… Maybe you could help.

“Nancy was uh… She was really suffering after losing Barb. And I knew that a part of her blamed us for what happened. Whilst she was being dragged off to… whatever that place is, we were, well, you know…”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, not bothered that he was slightly messing it up, “I just didn’t realize how much she blamed us. Blamed me. She uh, she said everything was bullshit. That our relationship was bullshit. And when I asked if she loved me…”

“She was drunk, Steve. She didn’t know what she was saying-”

“No, I uh… I asked her at school the next day. She was pissed because I didn’t pick her up that morning, and I asked her. I begged her to tell me she loved me. And she couldn’t, because she didn’t. She didn’t love me, and I don’t know if she always knew that, or just realized it then. And then I… Jesus, I went around there like a total jackass, with roses and I was gonna apologize, you know? Because, she can’t help it if she doesn’t feel that way, and I shouldn’t push her into saying it, but… She’d disappeared with Jonathan. And I don’t know what happened between them, but… I mean, they started dating right after, so, I kind of guessed then that we were over, for good this time.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, but there was no humor to it, “You got nothing to apologize for.”

“I know, but… I was an asshole to you. And even after all that… You still made sure I was okay that night. Still protected us all at the Junkyard. I just… I didn’t know you were dealing with that.”

“Well, some things are a bit more important than my shitty love life, I guess. Being torn apart by a bunch of Demo Dogs being one of them.”

You placed the bottle back in his lap, placing a hand over his once he took it, “I can’t begrudge Nance for finding happiness with Jonathan, you know? It was kind of obvious from the outside that there was something between them. But you didn’t deserve that, Steve, and I’m sure Nancy knows that, too. She deserves to be happy, but so do you. And hell, it’s not like you’ll have any trouble finding someone else to warm your bed until then. You’ll be just fine, Harrington. I’m sure of it.”

“That night… With Billy-”

Shaking your head, you stopped him before he could finish his sentence, “We don’t need to go there, really. I’d prefer it if we put it down to being drunk and stupid, or lonely and desperate… whatever. It didn’t mean anything, and I knew the kind of guy he was, I really shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“He was an asshole, and I’m sorry about the rumors about us, well... you know.”

Finally, you met his dark, honey-colored eyes, “That’s not on you to apologize for. But I am sorry if that didn’t help shit with Nancy. And for what I said to you after… About, not wanting to hang out or be your friend. You looked out for me when I really needed it, and I threw that back in your face. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Steve smiled, the warmth of your hand still lingering on his skin even after you pulled your hand back, “I mean, there is a way you could make it up to me.”

Your brows drew together almost comically fast, dropping slightly as you sent him a suspicious glare, but when you remained quiet, Steve took it as his chance to continue,

“You could help me study for my exams. I mean, I’m not expecting to do well, or anything, but… I still wanna graduate.”

“You know I usually charge for tutoring-”

“Yeah, that’s not how apologizing works though, is it?” Steve smirked, a playfulness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a while.

A silence passed between the both of you as you took turns passing the bottle around, small sighs and scrunched-up faces as the drink burned your throats on its way down.

“Do you think this year's gonna be better? I mean, as in no more monsters crawling out of the Hell’s asshole that is Hawkins?”

Steve’s eyes returned to you — despite keeping yours front and center — and you could feel their laser-like focus roam over your side profile as if he would find an answer that would pacify the both of you etched on your skin.

“I think,” Steve seemed to choose his words wisely, “we’ve all been through enough shit to last us a lifetime. We’re owed at least one good year, right?”

A small bubble of laughter erupted from your chest as you finally turned toward the boy, “I think that’d be the bare fucking minimum, Steve. And those kids, you know? They deserve to just be… kids. Instead, they’re fighting against interdimensional monsters and god knows what else El and Will have been through.”

“Maybe this town’s cursed, you know?” Steve shrugged, taking another sip from the bottle.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave?” You questioned, specifying once Steve raised his brow, “Hawkins, I mean. Do you think you’ll ever get out of here?”

“Well, I don’t think I’m gonna get into any out-of-state colleges.”

“No, I mean like… forever. Do you ever just want to pack up a bag and let this shitty town swallow itself whole?”

Steve’s eyes softened as you peeked back at him, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket, “I guess. I don’t really have anything keeping me here. But… I don’t know. It pains me to say it but... I think I’d miss the little jerks too much. God knows Dustin wouldn’t survive five minutes unsupervised- Oh, hey, look-”

A fountain of light filled the sky, quickly followed by a loud crack as the fireworks spread across the sky, followed by another explosion of color.

You watched the lights as they forced colors into the night, breaking apart the dark sky before fizzling out and falling back down to Earth.

Steve called your name softly, watching as you turned your attention toward him, “Happy New Year."

“Happy New Year, Steve.” You replied, taking the bottle from his grasp with a small smile before returning your attention back to the sky, hoping the cheap vodka would wash down the nauseating panic that crawled up your throat as the sky split open once more, bright reds against the dark navy sky, looking as though it was ripped apart at the seams, and you half expected a monster to fall out of it.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

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wutheringmights · 1 year ago

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Can we get the latest directors commentary pls?

Of course you can!

All things considered, this chapter actually came together really quickly. I haven't had a free weekend in a while, so that the chapter got done in a little over a month is really cool and sexy of me

My original plan was to have the bit about the war ending and the engineer leaving in secret at the end of the last chapter, and for this chapter to be the scene about Kat plus its consequences. The entire year would have passed between chapters with the reader getting no glimpses into what happened

Obviously, things got screwed up and I had to think of a way to make the war ending work with the Kat scene. I ended up with the idea of showing the passage of time with Link constantly reflecting back on how he failed to see the engineer. And I think it worked really well! For once my bad pacing was a blessing in disguise.

A part of me feels bad that I didn't do more with the friends of the Heroes Spirit, though I already struggle at times to give Midna things to do. I don't think I could have handled more of Ravio or Tetra.

There was going to be way more of Marin, including a bit about how she fades in and out of existence since she's only a dream. The engineer was always going to be the first person who knew when she was back, as he could always sense her presence.

This chapter also has one of my knew favorite lines (which I will highlight because I want to draw attention to it): "He hadn’t been a child for a long time now. But he had been in that comfortable space where he wasn’t a kid but not yet an adult. He always had the sense that if he turned around, he could walk back into a small shape his mother could hold in her arms."

Fort Raven was named after Sir Raven, from the Oracle of Time manga

Where do I start with the Kat stuff?

First off, I almost named this part of the chapter after the pudding bun. I really wanted to highlight the idea that what breaks through Link's disassociation is one person being selflessly nice to him. Like showing someone humanity begets more humanity

Also, the auburn woman who pointed out which direction Kat went in is the same auburn woman who danced with Link and spread rumors about the engineer in chapter 16. This is a detail only I care about.

Okay, so random trivia aside, let's actually talk about Kat

I have mentioned many times before that Kat is based off of Kattrin from Mother Courage and Her Children. Kattrin is a girl who became non-verbal after she was sexually assaulted by a soldier when she was a kid. You can obviously see how that relates to my Kat.

A long time ago, I mentioned that one of the deleted subplots in CTB was about Link dealing with the Waltons wanting to connect with him now that he was the hero. A character who was deleted from that plotline was a slightly older cousin who was also in the army, and was a total asshole of a man.

I bring the cousin up because the cousin's storyline was going to end with Kat-- that's right, he was supposed to play the role that the major with the slicked back hair played in this chapter.

Obviously, this would mean that this bit about Kat being continuously harassed would have gotten a lot more attention and gone on way longer before climaxing with cousin assaulting Kat.

The cousin got deleted from the story when I got rid of the subplot with the Waltons. I told myself that having a random character attack Kat would still work, but it still feels a little sudden to me.

I really wanted to keep this scene not only for the ways it forces Link to respond, but also to show how shitty soldiers are to civilians, especially men in power

And yeah, I wanted Link trying and failing to save someone to be what triggers his wake-up call. Link definitively fucked up. The only thing he has left is being the hero, and he just fucked up saving someone he cares about.

Watching you all speculate about how Kat got injured up until this point was interesting. For a long while, a lot of you thought that the engineer would be involved. I somehow never expected anyone to associate the engineer with Kat's injury.

There were also a lot of people who thought Link was the one who injured Kat. That, I saw coming. It's been interesting to see how people think about what actually happened.

Of course, I was going to have this section go all the way until the end of the next scene, where Link faces the consequences of his actions. You'll have to see next chapter what those consequences will be.

Okay, onto the present--

Up until this chapter, I was utterly convinced that Twilight and Spirit would hate each other from the moment they meet. Then I wrote this chapter and realized that Twilight's protective gene would triumph any misgivings he would otherwise have. Absolutely no way he wouldn't find out about Spirit and not decide he was going to be the only bozo standing in his corner.

I really wanted this bit with Time and Warriors talking to be at the end of the last chapter. In my brain, the pacing just makes more sense that way. I can't even regret pushing it off until this chapter because their talk ended up being so long.

I also had to write this scene twice because the first time, Time was way out of character.

I was initially worried that Time explaining his point of view would be redundant, but after blindsiding you all with his extremely bias POV during his argument with Spirit, this ended up being necessary. My bad.

But also, Time's perspective is so, so... *vague gesturing*

There were a lot of people who were really certain that the child must have hated Link after Link hit him in the temple. Since then, I have been waiting for someone to connect that scene with the moment where the engineer hit the child first. I thought someone would point this point out after Time's argument with Spirit. But, no! No one did! So I had to point it out in this chapter!

I gotta emphasize that Time is not necessarily correct. But I swore that once I got everyone comfortable with Warriors's morality, I was going to start throwing curve balls to challenge your opinion. And as Time puts it, if Spirit can be forgiven, then why not Warriors? Weren't they both responding to shitty situations? And is Warriors correct when he says it's different?

And why am I writing literary response questions for my own fic? Damn.

I originally scrapped the Wolfie scene because it was too cheesy, then I had to put it back in because I had been writing Twilight like the scene was still there

I've been worried that CTB Hyrule has become so iconic for being kinda a hard ass that he's being flanderized, so I figured he could be the one who declares that everyone is safe and sound.

Wind gets a new haircut because it's not real trauma unless your hair changes. The author is someone who changes her hair every time her life falls apart.

And he has a cool anime-esque eye patch because he's thirteen and he deserves a cool anime-esque eye patch

There actually was going to be a scene where Warriors shared his plan for the Triforce with Lana first, but I cut it since I didn't want to have the same argument twice, once with Lana and once with the Chain; it still feels a little out of character for Link to not talk to Lana first.

So the Warriors and Spirit scene

I wanted to convey that talking about everything that happened too soon would cause Warriors to sort of relive his memories and worsen his trauma. I wanted to try showing that without needing to outright state it, hence the dream-like sequence.

I think this was largely successful. People get the idea. Shout out to this story for forcing me to get good at writing trippy sequences, though. I wasn't really planning on that.

I think my favorite part about Twilight taking control is that he still needed Four to do some of the heavy talking for him. Power duo between a grown man and his 16 year old BFF

As I promised, a Triforce quest comes with a lot of morale quandaries that we now have to navigate with the characters, the biggest one being what is the definition of a war won? How do you wish for a war to be over without causing a larger disaster?

Everything about the world building for the Faovarian government and society was designed to add complications to that question. You can't annihilate the army without killing thralls. You can't use it on their ruler because they have a senate who can be replaced. They're an empire made of conquered people, so there's the risk that you could hurt an oppressed state.

But yeah, we're ready to go on another adventure. The boys are sticking together a little bit longer, and now we have to go meet up with Lincoln.

I wanted to get them on the road this chapter too, especially so that I could end with another really important Spirit scene, but I punted that off to the next chapter. Hopefully, the pacing for the next chapter won't be too weird.

And because the ending is different from what I had planned, I didn't know HOW to end things. Then I remembered how much you all liked dog imagery.

One last note: I love reading everyone's thoughts on the story, especially your thoughts on Warriors, Spirit, and Time. I am amazed by how many different takes I have seen. There is no one out there who is thinking the same thing.

On one hand, that's terrifying for me. When I was younger, I was really into the idea that a successful story left every reader thinking the same thing. The part of me that is forever 20 years old is scared shitless that someone is going to have a bad take and get mad at me for it.

The part of me that is older and somewhat wiser wants all of these polarizing opinions. Every reader brings their own experiences to the table, and I want to see everyone reaching their own conclusions about the characters. I love this. I relish in every ask, reply, or AO3 comment. I love your mini-essays and note taking. I love knowing what everyone thinks.

So, yeah. I just wanted to take a moment to reflect on that. Things are a little terrifying, but they have to be in order to be exciting as well.

#oh my god do i have a bonus funfact for this chapter???#uhhhhhhh huh. i don't think i do. i think i actually got everything #me rambling #lu ctb #linked universe #ctb lore #ctb spoilers #ctb commentary

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veryqueermovies · 2 years ago

Text

My list of Queer books.

Now my labeling only has to do with the main protagonist, except for the books labeled "Queer" some of those the main protagonist is not Queer but the book has lots of Queer main and side characters. I only included the first books to make it easier but some of these are series.

The problem with making lists for books is that there's So. Goddamn. Many! New ones are being released every single day so all I can really do is add as I go. I also take recommendations so let me know of books I missed (specify what category they go in please 😊). I could also add specific Sexualities and Genders but right now I'm just doing basic categories because this is going to take time.

MLM:

Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Ocean's Echo by Everina Maxwell

In Deeper Waters by F.T Lukans

So This Is Ever After by F.T Lukans

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

The Gentleman's Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzie Lee

The Fever King by Victoria Lee

Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey Mcquiston

The Taking Of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass

Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice

Right Where I Left You by Julian Winters

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Call Down The Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater

Zachary Ying and The Dragon Emperor by Xiran Jay Zhao

The Disasters by M.K England

Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo

And They Lived... by Steven Salvatore

The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

Be Dazzled by Ryan La Sala

If This Gets Out by Sophie Gonzalez and Cale Dietrich

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

The Song Of Achilles by Madeleine Miller

WLW:

A Lesson In Vengeance by Victoria Lee

Burn Down, Rise Up by Vincent Tirado

The Unbroken by C.L Clark

The Black Veins by Ashia Monet

Escaping Exodus by Nicky Drayden

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

The Coldest Touch by Isabel Sterling

The Girls Are Never Gone by Sarah Glenn Marsh

Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron

Deliah Green Doesn't Care by Ashley Herring Blake

The Lesbiana's Guide To Catholic School by Sonora Reyes

She's Too Pretty To Burn by Wendy Heard

You Should See Me In A Crown by Leah Johnson

One Last Stop by Casey Mcquiston

The Girl From The Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker Chan

Polyamorous:

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (F/M/M)

The Dark Artifices by Cassandra Clare (F/M/M)

A Dowry Of Blood by S.T Gibson (F/F/M/M)

The Fifth Season by N.K Jemisin (F/M/M)

Strange Grace by Tessa Gratton (M/F/M)

She Whom I Love by Tess Bowery (F/F/M)

Knell, Mr. President by Lauren Gallagher (F/M/M)

Chameleon Moon by RoAnna Sylvester (F/F/F)

Midnight At The Orpheus by Alyssa Linn Palmer (F/M/F Poly V)

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi (Multiple Interlinked Poly V's)

The Fell Of Dark by Caleb Roehrig (M/M/M)

Books Of Raksura by Martha Wells

Lifelode by Jo Walton (M/M/F/F)

The Elemental Logic by Laurie Mark (6 person polycule)

The Tale Of The Five by Diane Duane (Group Polycule)

In The Ravenous Dark by A.M Strickland

Lead Me Astray by Sondi Warner

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

Queer (Books that have characters of many different identities):

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

A Song Of Wraiths And Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown

Six Of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

The Fifth Season by N.K Jemisin

The City We Became by N.K Jemisin

Heartstopper by Alice Oseman (everything written by them is Queer)

Chef's Kiss by T.J Alexander

The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu

The Backstagers and The Ghost Light by Andy Mientus and Ryan Sygh

Once & Future by A.R Capetta and Cory McCarthy

Nimona by N.D Stevenson

Trans/Non-Binary/GNC:

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas

A Million Quiet Revolutions by Robin Gow

Lakelore by Anna-Marie McLemore

The One True Me And You by Remi K. England

All Boys Aren't Blue by George M Johnson

When The Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callander

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

Self-Made Boys by Anna-Marie McLemore

Aro/Ace Spectrum:

Loveless by Alice Oseman

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Bardger

Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire l

Tarnished By The Stars by Rosiee Thorr

Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann

Hazel's Theory of Evolution by Lisa Jenn Bigelow

The Sound Of Stars by Alechia Dow

Thaw by Elyse Springer

The Ladies Guide To Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzie Lee

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dear-indies · 8 months ago

Note

Hello Cat! Can I please get some fc suggestions for a black woman, age anywhere from like 23-33 passing, who just gives bright, joy, fairylike energy? Thank you! and as ever #freepalestine

Ashleigh Murray (1988) African-American.

Tabria Majors (1990) African-American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Denée Benton (1991) African-American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Dominique Fishback (1991) African-American.

Tiana Okoye (1991) African-American.

Lydia West (1993) Afro Montserratian / Irish.

Aisha Dee (1993) African Australian / White.

Asia Jackson (1994) Ibaloi Filipino and African American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Arsema Thomas (1994) Nigerian / Ethiopian - has spoken up for Palestine!

Jaz Sinclair (1994) African-American / White.

Jasmin Savoy Brown (1994) African-American / White - is queer - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ayo Edebiri (1995) Afro Barbadian / Nigerian - is queer.

Raven Bowens (1995) African-American.

Bree Kish (1996) 1/4 African-American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Zuri Reed (1996) African-American.

Alisha Boe (1997) Somali / White.

Laura Kariuki (1998) Kenyan.

Samara Joy (1999) African-American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Genneya Walton (1999) African-American.

Marissa Bode (2000) African-American - is disabled - has spoken up for Palestine!

Halle Bailey (2000) African-Amercan.

Dara Reneé (2000) African-American.

Alexandra James (?) Dominican, Antiguan & Barbudian - is deaf and queer.

Hope this helps you out, anon!

#fc help #rph #rpc #black fc

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inkyskye · 2 years ago

Text

books that feel like nostalgia

you know those books you read that, instead of feeling like you're discovering something brand-new, they almost remind you of something you already know? like you already read it in another life? here are some books that gave me that feeling of returning home.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crowley

Circe by Madeline Miller

The Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by VE Schwab

Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell

Normal People by Sally Rooney

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren

The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender by Leslye Walton

#some of the best books ive ever read #the secret history #nostagiacore #nostalgia #currently reading #book recommendations #book reccs #fantasy books #whimsical books #in another life #books and literature #the raven cycle #normal people #addie larue #ve shwab #christina lauren #the book thief #madeline miller

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with-a-martyr-complex · 10 months ago

Text

With A Martyr Complex: Reading List 2023

Adapted from the annual list from @balioc, a list of books (primarily audiobooks) consumed this year. This list excludes several podcasts, but includes dramatizations and college lecture series from The Great Courses, which I consume like a parrot emotionally dependent on access to lecturers.

The Birth of Tragedy Out Of The Spirit of Music byFriedrich Nietzsche (Translated by Ian Johnston)

Death in Venice by Thomas Mann (Translated by Michael Henry Heim, Introduction by Michael Cunningham)

Financial Literacy: Finding Your Way in the Financial Markets by Connel Fullenkamp, from The Great Courses

The Dispossessed: A Novel by Ursula K. Le Guin

License to Travel: A Cultural History of the Passport by Patrick Bixby

Making History: How Great Historians Interpret the Past by Allen C. Guelzo, from The Great Courses

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai (Translated by Donald Keene)

Cyteen by C. J. Cherryh

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave by Frederick Douglass

Understanding Japan: A Cultural History by Mark J. Ravina, from The Great Courses

The Mountains of Mourning by Lois McMaster Bujold

What Has Passed Shall In Kinder Light Appear by Baoshu (Translated by Ken Liu)

The Other Side of History: Daily Life in the Ancient World by Robert Garland from The Great Courses

The Just City by Jo Walton

Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Understanding Imperial China: Dynasties, Life, and Culture by Andrew R. Wilson, from The Great Courses

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang (Contains: Tower of Babylon, Understand, Division By Zero, Story of Your Life, Seventy-Two Letters, The Evolution of Human Science, Hell is the Absence of God, and Liking What You See.)

Great Minds of the Eastern Intellectual Tradition by Grant Hardy, from The Great Courses

By The Sword: A History of Gladiators, Musketeers, Samurai, Swashbucklers, and Olympic Champions by Richard Cohen

War in Japan: 1467-1615 by Stephen Turnbull

Yūrei: The Japanese Ghost by Zack Davisson

Nine Princes in Amber by Roger Zelazny

The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu (Translated by Dennis Washburn)

Buddhism by Malcolm David Eckel, from The Great Courses

The Rise of Modern Japan by Mark Ravina, from The Great Courses

The Shogun's Last Samurai Corps: The Bloody Battles and Intrigues of the Shinsengumi by Romulus Hillsborough

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata, (Translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori)

Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima (Translated by Michael Gallagher)

Child of God by Cormac McCarthy

The Rise of Communism: From Marx to Lenin by Vejas Gabriel Liulevicius, from The Great Courses

Communism in Power: From Stalin to Mao by Vejas Gabriel Liulevicius, from The Great Courses

Common Sense by Thomas Paine

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo (Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood)

Cycles of American Political Thought by Joseph F. Kobylka, from The Great Courses

Docile by K. M. Szpara

Writing Great Fiction: Storytelling Tips and Techniques by James Hynes, from The Great Courses

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

Hart's Hope by Orson Scott Card

Real Service by Raven Kaldera and Joshua Tenpenny

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alhigieri (Translated by Clive James)

Dante's Divine Comedy by William R. Cook and Ronald B. Herzman from The Great Courses

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

Secrets of The Occult by Richard B. Spence (From the Great Courses, possibly?)

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

American Monsters by Adam Jortner from The Great Courses

The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik

Praetorian: The Rise and Fall of Rome's Imperial Bodyguard byGuy de la Bédoyère

The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik

Great World Religions: Hinduism by Mark W. Muesse, from The Great Courses

At The Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by H. P. Lovecraft

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath by H. P. Lovecraft

The Dunwich Horror by H. P. Lovecraft

The Shadow Out of Time by H. P. Lovecraft

The Shadow Over Innsmouth by H. P. Lovecraft

The Whisperer in Darkness by H. P. Lovecraft

The Complete Fiction of H. P. Lovecraft by H. P. Lovecraft (Collected by The H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society, contains: The Alchemist, At the Mountains of Madness, Azathoth, The Best in the Cave, Beyond the Wall of Sleep, The Book, The Call of Cthulhu, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, The Cats of Ulthar, Celephais, The Colour out of Space, Cool Air, Dagon, The Descendent, Discarded Draft of "The Shadow Over Innsmouth," The Doom that Came to Sarnath, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, The Dreams in the Witch House, The Dunwich Horror, The Evil Clergyman, Ex Oblivione, Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family, The Festival, From Beyond, The Haunter of the Dark, He, Herbert West-Reanimator, History of the Necronomicon, The Horror at Red Hook, TheHound, Hypnos, Ibid, In the Vault, The Little Glass Bottle, The Lurking Fear, Memory, The Moon-Bog, The Music of Erich Zann, The Mysterious Ship (Long and Short Versions), The Mystery of the Grave-Yard, The Nameless City, Nyarlathotep, Old Bugs, The Other Gods, The Outsider, Pickman's Model, The Picture in the House, Polaris, The Quest of Iranon, The Rats in the Walls, A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson, The Secret Cave, The Shadow out of Time, The Shadow Over Innsmouth, The Shunned House, The Silver Key, The Statement of Randolph Carter, The Strange High House in the Mist, The Street, Sweet Ermengarde, The Temple, The Terrible Old Man, The Thing on the Doorstep, Through the Gates of the Silver KeyThe Tomb, The Transition of Juan Romero, The Tree, Under the Pyramids, The Unnamable, The Very Old Folk, What the Moon Brings, The Whisperer in Darkness, The White Ship)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Patton: The Man Behind The Legend, 1885-1945 by Martin Blumenson

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

One Billion Americans: The Case for Thinking Bigger by Matt Yglesias

Red: A History of the Redhead by Jacky Colliss Harvey

The Man Who Laughs by Victor Hugo (Translated by Isabel Florence Hapgood)

The Rape of the Mind: The Psychology of Thought Control, Menticide, and Brainwashing by Joost A. M. Meerloo

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Legacies of Great Economists by Timothy Taylor from The Great Courses

Incomplete books: Trouble on Triton, Comparative Hell: Arts of Asian Underworlds, Dark Archives, The History of the World: Map by Maps, The Iliad (Emily Wilson Translation), Christina Queen of Sweden: The Restless Life of a European Eccentric, The Three Musketeers, The Only Plane in the Sky, Myth in Human History, The Dragon: Fear and Power

---

Great Courses consumed: 17?

Non-Great Courses Nonfiction consumed: 13

---

Works consumed by women: 13

Works consumed by men: 53

Works consumed by men and women: 0

Works that can plausibly be considered of real relevance to foreign policy (including appropriate histories): 7

---

With A Martyr Complex’s Choice Award, fiction division: Convenience Store Woman

>>>> Honorable mention: Hart's Hope, Ancillary Justice, Child of God, No Longer Human, Piranesi, the first 1/3 of Cyteen, What Has Passed Shall in Kinder Light Appear

With A Martyr Complex’s Choice Award, nonfiction division: By The Sword

>>>> Honorable mention: The Shogun's Last Samurai Corps, Praetorian, The Birth of Tragedy most of the Great Courses stuff I got to this year

>>>> Great Courses Division: Buddhism

The Annual “An Essential Work of Surpassing Beauty that Isn’t Fair to Compare To Everything Else” Award: The Divine Comedy

>>>> Honorable mention: Julius Caesar, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, The Shadow Out of Time, Pride and Prejudice, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Man Who Laughs, The Dispossessed

The “Reading This Book Will Give You Great Insight Into The Way I See The World” Award: What Has Passed Shall In Kinder Light Appear

>>>> Honorable mention: Hell is the Absence of God (from Stories of Your Life and Others)

The "My Mind is Thoroughly Exhausted By Reading Through All This But It Was Worth It In The End" Award: The Tale of Genji

Book Most in Need of A Single Extra Chapter: The Man Who Laughs

Best Dude: Darcy from Pride and Prejudice

---

This is the first year where I didn't struggle to reach my 52 book goal at all, only some of which is thanks to the Lovecraft marathon. I also read a ton of short sci-fi stories early in the year for an online class I took (which is also why there are so many sci-fi novels in the beginning of the year) and feel much more knowledgeable in the genre even though I'm still not very well read in it. I will be taking a fantasy course next year to what I assume will be similar effect.

It's still hard to read non-audiobooks, made worse this year by a promotion at work that means I have much less free time overall but still a fair deal of time for audiobooks while working with my hands. My (I don't post it) movie list suffered similarly, with this being the first year in a while I didn't hit my movie target. Not discussed: I read various comics this year! Standouts: Chainsaw Man Part 1, the first volume of Pluto, Fun Home, the fifth volume of Phoenix, Look Back

Goals for next year: more foreign policy reading, more literary fiction, write something of my own, ohgodthesearethesamegoalsaslastyearpleasetellmeI'mnotstagnating

#oc #yearly reading list

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blysse-and-blunder · 2 years ago

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I posted 6,790 times in 2022

That's 346 more posts than 2021!

58 posts created (1%)

6,732 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leitharstjarna

@masteroffoolhardyplans

@knifepadme

@fade-steppin

@dying-suffering-french-stalkers

I tagged 2,104 of my posts in 2022

#the untamed - 287 posts

#art - 204 posts

#cql - 179 posts

#the untamed fanart - 165 posts

#mdzs - 87 posts

#goncharov - 86 posts

#the goncharoverse - 74 posts

#unreality cw - 63 posts

#postry - 53 posts

#ilcb - 47 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#‘you’re right i did need to see that’ ‘if you share the link i can watch from here!’ ‘i missed this but that’s so cool thank you’

My Top Posts in 2022:

in lieu of a moon cake

aug 29 - sept 11, 2022

where have the ilcb posts been the last four weeks, i hear you cry? well genuinely, the end of summer took me and i wandered out of time and thought. did watch the moon rise rich and golden last night, though, so--on balance--we're doing just fine.

reading finished my ancillary justice re-read this morning and i got so much more out of it the second time, newly attuned to the little differences between this and all the other space opera i've been enjoying. also finished obernewtyn (isobel carmodie), one of the growing list of YA sci/fantasy i'm catching up on using libby. spent a lot of last week reading or what you will, jo walton, which i think i will have more to say about when i finish it, and listening to ann leckie's the raven tower as an audiobook on various commutes-- perhaps not the best medium for it, but the reader's absolutely eating the accent work which does liven things up. i also acquired a romance novel from @dimir-charmer which is Certainly Something, not quite up to the level of some of the classics @pandolfo-malatesta would review but which has made me say out loud 'stop using that word, i do not think it means what you think it means!' every time this poor author tries to call someone 'contemporaries.'

listening so i know we all remember (for better or worse) passenger's 'let her go' from 2013 or whenever, but i have very specific tender feelings and memories attached to that whole album. a recent re-listen, followed by a tour through his recent, extensive new discography (like five albums since i last checked, holy shit), has shown me that i'm not even remotely capable of being objective, but i do think? that none of the new stuff has grabbed me? like it all sounds consistent, it all sounds, uh, the same, and the nuances and things i can pick out in the tracks from all the little lights (2012) or hell even whisper (2014) are just...not discernible (is this just a question of production)(possibly). to quote one of the new songs, uh, it leaves me cold? whereas 'feather on clyde' is still revealing and teaching me new things to get teary-eyed about (this time it was the line 'well god knows that i've failed, but he knows that i've tried'), and just...plus the string duet at the opening of 'things that stop you dreaming,' the way it builds up so, so sweetly, the lyrics taking you by surprise by leaving no breaks or breaths until the chorus, playing with pace and rhythm--still not tired of it.

youtube

watching i spent most of last week cycling between 'sandman', 'doulou continent', and 'oath of love', with a brief detour to the mdzs donghua with @hematiterings as per us-- sandman is good, though i haven't finished it. i got to the death episode and did briefly cry actual human tears about the old violinist and the young honeymooners, only to have the rest of the episode with its chronological humor (reminding me of ep 3 of 'good omens', what with the 'let's put our cast in several different centuries and enjoy what that does to their hair', thank you neilman) give me slight emotional whiplash. the problem with my cdrama habit is that, especially with duolou continent, i've had a hard time believing i've seen as many episodes as i actually have (also viki is...incapable of keeping my place) so i tend to back up to whichever episode number sort of feels right? which means i've seen episodes 11-15 like three times each. at least now i'm getting people's names.

playing finished up summer and fall of year two in stardew, won the grange fair and the ice fishing contest now that it's winter, and just bought a duck! (her name is fern)

making i think the garden is fading, we're still harvesting tomatoes but a lot of the leaves have turned yellow and crinkly, meanwhile the squash (?) vines have all withered except for one, perplexingly round little green squash (?) with a few nibbles out of it courtesy of the neighborhood fauna. when do i pluck it? is it still...getting anything out of being on its vine?

working on *cue panicked laughter* chapter 1! also that presentation / conference paper based on chapter-1-or-possibly-the-old-book-practicum! also that presentation based on chapter-2-or-possibly-chapters-1-and-2-OR-possibly-the-diss-proposal! with all the complaining i've done to various friends and colleagues, its no wonder there's not been any. further writing. distracting myself by insisting on doing things for the incoming students, which has been very fun and diverting since they are cute and much easier to help.

20 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

in lieu of a break

10pm, sept 25, 2022

the title is a lie, today and yesterday have both been breaks in their own ways! but the days do start coming and they really don't stop coming, do they. kay @girlfriendsofthegalaxy did a really nice couple of posts not long ago explaining the Theory of her tuesdayposts, to which i have only to add that-- i think for me these are turning into a steam valve, where i let out whatever is happening in my head that has built up over the past little while; they are analytical or creative endeavors in their own way, sometimes, but i mainly write them for myself and my own recall (so that i can go back and check out what i wrote about first watching the untamed, for example, please see iclb 2 or 3 from way back), and to keep track of my days. which is going to mean they aren't Reviews or really Criticism, though i may dabble in both, and any enjoyment or enlightenment anyone else gets out of reading these is incidental. for this one, it's a real head empty no thoughts list of titles, so hold on to your butts let's go.

reading the big mention here is that i just finished susanna clarke's piranesi, which i didn't know how to feel about until like 30% of the way in, and then began to enjoy quite a bit as the whole conceit became clearer, and then found...melancholy but beautiful by the end. honorable mentions over the past mumblemumble weeks to (checks storygraph): squire by tamora pierce (reread), ancillary justice by ann leckie (also a reread); the raven tower (not a reread, also by ann leckie--though i still haven't finished it); and the duchess romance which i did finish mostly out of morbid curiosity.

watching strangely this will be the largest section for once! the escapism has been strong lately-- and there have been many excellent movie and tv show friendship opportunities. in reverse order, i have now seen two episodes of the new netflix bee and puppycat and find it delightful if inscrutable; i have now seen two episodes of the second season of fate: a winx saga also on netflix which i found less delightful, even more inscrutable (since i hadn't seen the first season or the previous show, lmao) but extremely funny to watch alongside more deeply invested jammies; i have now seen the first three episodes of andor and found diego luna as charming as ever; i have now seen the prestige (2006) and it did lodge in my brain in the way only very rare movies do; i have now seen the newest three (?) episodes of star trek: lower decks and did think the most recent one with the recruiting booth and the rutherford memories plotline to be incredible star trek and some of the best lower deck stuff yet; i did make my housemates watch a double-feature of the princess diaries (2001) and the princess diaries 2: royal engagement (2004), which were extremely fun and also wild opportunities for early- oughts media criticism and an in-depth examination of the portrayal of hereditary monarchy (and on the heels of qe 2's death, no less);

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20 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

In lieu of a commonplace book: summer nights

begun 9pm, monday, july 25, 2022 continued 11pm, monday, august 1

this post is like a week overdue, and has been tricky to write because i've had such high hopes for it. because this post? full of things that sparked joy. so i want to do them justice! finally finished a bunch of books, finally started listening to some new music which has been so good for my mood; it's felt like (last week and this weekend in particular) there's been novelty and enrichment in my enclosure. wrote my way into something i think i can now be happy with, at least; it's long, but it's true, and i can be grateful for the small victories.

reading i want to commemorate the fact that, somehow, i ended up finishing hilary mantel's the mirror and the light on the exact day, july 28, that it ends-- *spoilers* the anniversary of cromwell's death *spoilers*-- which given that i probably started reading it like 18 months ago at this point, feels absolutely fated. also if you're laughing at the fact that i felt the need to spoiler that, just know that i didn't know he died at the end. also, didn't know his involvement in the anne of cleves marriage! also didn't quite know political the kathryn howard marriage was-- but of course it must have been, had to have been. the last, oh, maybe 100 pages of this book, where it all starts to unravel, were the most engaging of the whole thing. i think the goal for the book, the intended tone, was this slowly mounting sense of melancholy, or of fatigue, of things falling apart, but it didn't translate to suspense or tension or uhhh pathos for me, except for maybe a few brief chunks in the last five pages that were then overwritten by how...tacky the last few lines were? i wish i could say that my feelings upon finishing this book were more than just, well thank goodness that's over. i think this one was a victim of its predecessors' success, in the sense that-- it took what i liked or what worked from the first two, and overdid it.

in contrast, and what an interesting world it is that i ended up getting to read these two in conversation, my loan for victoria goddard's the hands of the emperor came in on july 18 and, despite being actually longer than mirror and the light i have already finished it, and in fact started it over again from the beginning immediately. it...stunned me a little to think about the broad similarities between these two, but think about it: two main characters who are, essentially, self-made men who worked in and through governmental policies to change the world on behalf of a monarch ruling with the force of state and church and tradition, whose succession is a Big Issue and whose temperament, for better or worse, makes all the difference. i wouldn't say that's necessarily what hote is actually *about*, but putting it out like that was a fun thought-experiment.

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22 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

in lieu of a commonplace book has fans??

8 pm, july 11, 2022

wow y'all . in the last week i've been tagged in three (three? 3!!) other weekly roundup post from... loyal readers, what the fuck. friends!! first, i love that this series has been entertaining for literally anyone apart from its intended audience (i.e. future me). indescribable feeling. second, feeling flattered but dismayed by the folks who say they have never liked or commented on an ilcb post, but have apparently been reading them this whole time. wild. i had...no idea. you are all hereby empowered to engage, if you'd like (which i'd like!), and i'll do the same on yours! i love this for you guys. please revel in all the things you like and the delights that are you.

now, this post is delayed (again), because as much as i like to have them published on weekends, weekends are also where i tend to get the material i talk about. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ read on for some discussion of stranger things s4 episodes 1-5, and an extremely goofy medieval-renaissance video game. mild spoilers for the lloyd alexander novel the black cauldron.

reading i finished lloyd alexander's the black cauldron after having lingered on the last 3 pages for like....multiple weeks. (i thought there was more to go, but it turned out the last few pages were a preview of the last book.) i know a lot of people in welsh / celtic studies have nostalgia for these books but at the same time may or may not actually like them, because of the way they play with characters or lore from the Four Branches. personally i'm kind of into it? i didn't read them as a kid, so i don't have nostalgia per se-- i'm into the fact that i can recognize things, tone or theme as much as substance, and that i can imagine reading this aloud and enjoying the pronunciations and inspiring whatever children might be listening. also, the change from the first book to this one, and the changes made between this book and the movie, made me really enjoy this book. i liked adaon, and i was okay with the presence of ellidyr (he's very consistent with the spirit of efnysien, if not the reality, which could also be said about most of the book). i was...almost ecstatic about the way it wasn't gurgi, in the end, it just made so much more sense this way. this falls into the same category of reading YA fantasy i missed as a kid, initiated by the dianna wynne jones books and alison croggon's books of pellinor last year, and contrasts interestingly with the tamora pierce reread i've been doing.

listening a weird mashup of the a short hike soundtrack and the reddit manwhore playlist , because work and focus has continued to be. weird and challenging. the video game 'energizing but also focus' music is usually helpful but i nearly dozed off at my desk yesterday. still, i like that i've discovered a new game ost (owlboy) which is a lot of fun. do i know anything about the game? no! i'll have to investigate it.

watching episodes 1-5 of stranger things season 4. i'm not...having as much fun with this season as i remember having with season 3? it's something about how spread out and disconnected the cast are (they split the party ☹️) and partly also, that... as the kids have grown up, the differences in acting skill level have become more obvious. i just...have so much more fun watching joe keery and sadie sink and millie bobbie brown do their things, than i do the rest of them? the fact that david harbour basically doesn't get to speak for these whole first five episodes (plus the fact that his whole story line is just not that interesting?) feels like such a waste. a lot of what they give joyce and robin to say also feel like a waste? murray is fun but like...he's light comic relief now. what happened. the first episode of this season felt like it had a coherent vision with the dnd / hellfire stuff, but it's diffused a lot at this point. though i do giggle like a maniac when they so earnestly name-drop vecna-- having listened to crit role campaign one, i go 'oh hey i know him!' every time. i guess the thing for me is, i've always come to this show for the way it imitates and references horror/80s thrillers/etc, for the loving callbacks, more than these things themselves. i don't want or need it to be like. actually these things. and the more it tries to be, the less fun i have?

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25 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My dash did a thing I thought amusing

175 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#gosh this is so funny #my top posts in 2022: word vomit #long post #year in review #tumblr wrapped #tumblr 2022 #Youtube

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