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likesrandomstuff · 3 years ago

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Avalance Fic Recommendations Part 4

The final part of this series. Thanks to everyone who reblogged and liked, and a huge shout-out to @heywhereisperry who encouraged and motivated me into doing this.

As I said in Part 1, feel free to add any more stories you think should be recognised to any of these posts, and my ask box is open if you would like more detail on anything.

Part 1: Bite Sized

Part 2: Snacks

Part 3: Meals

Banquets (Over 75,000 words)

When you do not have anything you need to do in the next couple of days

You're My Miracle by bihexualmess

My tags: Ava is FBI, Sara is a Private Investigator, Rip brings Sara on for a case

This just got updated the other week and ruined multiple nights of sleep for me. At almost 350k words, still going, I don’t know how to explain without spoiling stuff that happens a long way in. There are so many layers to both Ava and Sara here, and the trauma, and the issues, and the fact they will not talk to each other about anything. I jumped on this a bit late, as the title and description didn’t grab me, but oh boy, I was missing out. I did get to read a heap of it in one go, but that doesn’t help the slow burn. I would start this even though it’s still a WIP, just because it will take you a while, to read, and also the storylines need time to settle in, because they are heavy, but just amazing. It is now the longest Avalance fic with the latest update.

this is the way that we love (like it's forever) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: College Avalance dated and broke up, five years later they meet again, Ava’s dating someone else

This fic had me crying in the lunchroom during my second week of work because I couldn’t not read during my lunch break, and it was hitting me so hard. That was after starting it at 10pm, reading to 2am, sleeping until 6am, reading until 11am a couple of days before. Warning for major character deaths; the funeral for one is alluded to in the description. If anyone says something bad about Jordan, I will not be happy; one of the best original characters I have ever read in a fic. Sara’s not in a great place initially, but she gets there. And there’s some cute flashbacks to college Legends too.

you make me smile (please stay for a while now) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: High School Rivals AU, Ava’s class president, Sara is the superstar soccer captain, they have more in common than they thought

I just looked at the word count for this, and it must be the first time I have, because wow! It is a journey! There’s a couple of prequel, sequel and interjection stories in this universe too. Ava has to deal with her family not being super supportive when she comes out. Sara has to deal with Laurel struggling and their mum having a clear favourite (Laurel). Most of the Legends have really great arcs in here as well. Ava’s family is great. I wanna hang out with her little sister. Don’t be like 2018 me who gives up after the first chapter because they are mad about what Laurel is going through. She’s fine, and there’s a heap of great Sara and Laurel moments. I recently re-read the last 10 chapters, and I still couldn’t stop myself from reading like it was the first time.

i am who you used to love (and you are just a memory) by justpalsbeingals

My tags: The Vow AU, but Ava makes some better choices early on, they’re married, Ava gets into an accident and loses all memory of Sara

I hate the movie this fic is based on. The movie’s fine, and it was a delight seeing Tatiana Maslany in it while I was watching Orphan Black, but basically it is my worst-case scenario, losing my memory. The fact that this fic kept me hooked despite that, is a testament to the quality. The fic itself says “light angst”, I say it’s much, much heavier than that, but that’s just me. Warning, there are some intense twists in here, and everyone is a bit OOC to me, memory loss being considered, which might not be your thing.

and i will stumble and fall (i'm still learning to love) by lucylikestowrite

My tags: SwanQueen kid fic AU, yes, I know go with me on this, Ava adopted Sara’s unexpected baby, said kid finds Sara years later

In general, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t like kid fics. Fics with future children coming back to meet their parents, or the couple going into the future? Some of my favourites ever. This has no time travel, but I trust Lucy. This story is under 75k, but the sequel is almost as long, so combined they’re over. The sequel is a WIP. I didn’t watch Once Upon a Time, but it’s the plot of the start of that, except the gay actually happens. There are a lot of issues our girls have to work through here, but the kid is so cute.

and we could try by plinys

My tags: it’s a story mostly told on twitter through fake screen shots of social media, Sara drunk messages Ava, Ava doesn’t block her

I’m sure this format of storytelling is not for everyone, and that’s okay! I was so confused by it at first. I would recommend starting with the shorter one, I can be your hero (in Part 2), just to see if you like it, before jumping into this. I read this when the epilogue, the fic, was released, and I was up until 5am because I couldn’t stop. It became part of my personality. Story wise, Sara and Ava are on different coasts, but both know Nate, Ray and Nora. Ray and Nora get engaged, and Avalance have to deal with planning that wedding, and whatever is going on with them.

take my hands now by plinys

My tags: Another Social Media twitter AU, Sara is The Canary, Ava is trying to arrest vigilantes, Nate accidently gives Ava Sara’s number

Another brilliant twitter story. Some of our gang is trying to arrest the other half. Sara knows who Ava is, Ava doesn’t know that Sara is the person she’s chasing. Everyone has public twitter accounts. Sara actually gets [spoiler villain] to stop an attack by sending them money for a drink.

your eyes, they shine so bright by plinys

My tags: Social Media AU, everyone works for not Buzzfeed, a colab series is pitched, Sara and Ava’s teams have to work together

Ava makes factual videos, Sara does not, they are forced to work together. Nate is everyone’s boss technically, but they do what they want. Nate and Ava are non-biological siblings, and Satan Camp is a running gag. Oh, fake dating is in there too!

right to the top, don't hold back by SJAandDWfan

My tags: American Ninja Warrior AU, Sara’s a veteran and the Legends train together, Ava’s a rookie, rivals to training partners to friends to …

I re-read this every year when the new Australian season comes out. It’s so burned into my brain that when I was watching the speed climbing at the Olympics I genuinely thought “I wonder how Amaya would go in this?”. Amaya’s pre-Ninja experience is rock climbing in this fic. I learnt so much about Ninja Warrior and how the show (at least in this universe) works, and it’s fascinating. Would recommend watching some clips if you’re unfamiliar with the concept. The story goes pretty in detail about the courses. For recommendations, either Jessie Gaff, who was a S1 Supergirl stuntwoman, or Australia’s own Olivia Vivian, who is just stages better than our next female.

biding our time (until tomorrow) by TheTruthAboutLove

My tags: Period setting AU, Ava’s too noble for her own good, Oliver’s dad is the villain

This was a really cool experiment. Basically, told in lots of mini chapters like a soap opera. I do not know much about this period of American history, but it did not matter. A lot of different Arrow-verse peeps show up along the way. I’m sure I complained out loud “you’re allowed to want things Ava!” at some point. There’s an attempt for fake dating, and it’s not the homophobia but the second daughter problem that gets them.

Click here to see all the parts

#Avalance fic rec #Avalance #Sara Lance #Ava Sharpe #fanfiction

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emotionalsupportshelby · 3 years ago

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Hi, I'm depressed it's almost 1am and I'm gonna blog my Peaky episode watch:

Episode: Series 4 episode 3

Let's go

My dad said Paul walks like a ape, and it's, all I see now... Like with both arms at the same time

Michael gives me so many mixed feelings but it's cute that his, adoptive mum showed up in the hospital

Village Michael was the best Michael

Does the adoptive mum know it was Michael's decision not to go back? She's out here, blaming Tommy, like babe... Tommy wanted Michael to go, he refused

ADA MY BABY

Polly counting the days she's gone without a fuck 😭 legendary behaviour only, you go be with someone unsuitable ma'am, we rooting for you

Hi Ada saying "behave yourself" is lowkey fucking hot

You never behave yourself Pol you go down with legends

Only Cillian could rock Harry Potter glasses with that Haircut and I am here for it

I'll make a post on this, later but Tommy needs a, woman like Linda, a women who gets him away for the Buisness

Im not a fan of Linda but Kate is gorgeous 😍

Why is everyone in this cast so hot though

No but I had to watch the Arthur and Linda, sex scene with my dad 😭😭 there's others but this is by far the worst 😭 I hate every time we get there 😭

"keep his balls empty and his belly full" Linda's mum >>>>

I hate myself for thinking this but I wonder if Helens hair drastically changed to this shorter one because she was going through treatment..it looks similar to my aunts, who went through breast cancer so I'm like 👀

Probably not cuz it's years before but.... Who knows

The paint fight scene must have been so fun to film... I love watching it each time

"I'm here as a lover of theatre" Me introducing my theatre nerd ass

I alwaud forget how good Adrien is in Peaky... Season 4 is one of my least favourite seasons but Adrien kills it as Luca even though I dislike his character in general

Arthur he had a fucking vote because it was planned to have the vote Just because you were getting fucked doesn't mean that stops

Arthur... John shoulda killed his teacher... Its not on you it's on his dumb ass

Kates smile is GORGEOUS

Arthur and Linda are a toxic relationship on each end and I hate that neither of them are getting happiness

She's trying to help you get out of the life which is damaging you Arthur, don't go Bat shit at her

100% found out that I've developed a new crush on Kate just now...can't wait to rewatch with this knowledge

"you have a lot of enemies" no shit mate... No fucking shit

JESSIE BABY HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU

and your muppet dress

You cannot say that that dress don't look like it's got muppet on

Ti's the Muppet dress..

Okay I made a post on this before but Cillians subtle yet heartbreaking acting when Greta gets brought up is a hyper fixation every damn time I watch this episode... Here's, my gif from last time

He looks so broken and I can't explain how much I love his acting choice there... Whether he even knew he was doing it or not

I'm so angry Jessie isn't coming back next series 😭

Her and Cillian had so much on screen (for lack of better word) chemistry and I'm sad we won't get any more of it 😭

Greta is still Tommys truest love and possibly his ownly love and I will go to my grave thinking that

Jessie/Charlie deserves SO much more love than she got and I'm forever bitter about how dirty she was done

Cillians acting in this scene is heartbreakingly subtle yet beautiful and I'm in awe

Arthur firing the bullet, I'm not a HUGE Arthur fan but he needs to go and get therapy and find happiness

Lizzie is under appreciated as the woman who isn't with Tommy... She is so much more than Tommy's wife

"Tommy said yes, Arthur said yes"

"but did God say yes" - I love Polly 😭

Finn trying to be in charge, bby no

As someone who has been to Blackpool... That is the happiest look you will ever see... I stayed at a hotel there for a con and it didn't even have a fucking window... We were in a box... I feel Tommy had the same experience

Lizzie, Polly and Linda arranging a girl for Finn gives more proof that he's fruity 🍓

"nice women don't do that sort of thing"

"yes they do, look at you" - we love sweet Tommy one liners 🥺

Hi if tommy wants to take me to the docks Id love that because it's, precious as fuck 🥺

He is fully in his head fucking Greta here but its still a fucking sweet moment and I love it

HE PROMISED GRETA HE WAS GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD GUYS I CANT 😭

The way he goes back to talking business straight after having sex 😭 boy, rest dammit

"I don't want it like that ever again Tom" cuz you are interested in the other gender?

This scene woulda been a great one for Finn to come out to Tommy and I'm bitter it didn't happen, Steven recognise he ain't straight dammit

I remember watching the scene where Polly 'betrays" Tommy the first time and being so fucking pissed 😂 Still lowkey stresses me the fuck out

I always think I dislike S4 until I watch it and then I'm like damn... What a masterpiece ✨

Top 3 thinks I've thought:

1. Wow Kate is gorgeous and I hate that I've ignored it this long

2. Tommys romantic side who has his guard down needs to be shown more

3. It's not gonna be the same without Helen, I just pray they do it respectfully 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Ahhh that was fun... Hope you enjoyed my commentary 😂

(it's now 2am...oops 🙈)

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

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WS Chapter 55- Rallying Cry

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

Only five more chapters before the end! It’s so close, and it’s be such a wonderful ride with Red and Ecto, I couldn’t have asked for better people to collab with! And all of you, reading and commenting! That’s why i wanted to do this minesona event, was for you all to be a part of the ride as you already are!

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Bre belongs to @mintyhotchocolate

Star belongs to @thatonewannabedragon

Perri belongs to @hyperfixatingparrot

Pierre belongs to @cabbagesenpai

“Why are dark oak forests so big?” This is the second time Ecto has found herself within the dark shadows of the massive oak trees. She’s lost among the enormous mushrooms, but at least she doesn’t have to worry about creatures of the night in this one. It’s a little sparser, more mushrooms and the trees are more variable in height. Lilacs grow in large bundles at the base of roots, fungi as large as the trees that shelter them from the sunlight.

Doesn’t stop the rich forest from being hot. And not the kind of hot that Ecto likes. That dry heat that the desert brings- no, this is warm and wet. Sticky, the sunlight warming the dew from the morning and suspending it into the air. Ecto unscrews her water bottle, whimpering as she discovers it’s already empty. She forgot to refill it last time.

Looking around, she spots a stream trickling through the forest, and follows it to a rocky ledge. The cool water falls free from the creek bed, showering across mossy rocks and blooming flowers before continuing downstream. Ecto doesn’t bother to check how safe the water was- it was better than no water, especially with as sweaty as she feels. She thrusts her bottle under the falling stream, listening to droplets of water trickle across the metal like a bell. It sounds like someone laughing.

Someone is laughing. Ecto doesn’t change her body language, but she reminds herself where her sword is. Paranoia creeps over her, feeling the sensation of being watched. A hellspawn is near. The green foliage shifts and stutters as a footstep slips against the moss, and Ecto reels around. Dropping her bottle and unsheathing her weapon. “Oh! Oh- oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

It’s not a hellspawn. Her hair is dark brown, eyes blue and panicked beneath the flower crown resting on her head. Definitely not a hellspawn. But as Ecto looks over the stranger as she slips trying to get up, she notes the potion bottles and books at her hips. Eventually, the girl gives up, and opalescent dragonfly wings spread open. She lifts herself up, brushing off the dirt on her shorts. Ecto lowers her blade. “Are you an alchemist?” She remembers what Kai scolded her about last time. “I’m Ecto, by the way.”

“I’m called Bre, and yes- I make potions. Do you need some? I’d be happy to help.” Bre offers a gentle smile, rocking on her heels and pulling out a variety of potions. She begins to list off the properties of each, potions Ecto didn’t even know existed.

“Actually, I think there’s more ways you can help me and my friends.” Ecto picks up her half empty bottle, screwing it shut and inviting the fae to listen to her spiel.

___________________________________________

Avon flies above the roofed forest, the thick canopy is like another layer of grass, and the trunks are roots rather than branches. Beneath Avon, she holds tight onto Jessie. The little dragonet has her wings out, trying to gain some understanding with flying. Her chirps are beginning to deepen into growls and roars. She’s getting bigger by the day, and her wings are strong enough to take her weight.

But Avon doesn’t know when the baby needs to be let go. When to take away her hands, and trust Jessie to keep up her own weight. That her black wings, massive for her body size as she grows, will hold her up. That she’ll know how to push against the air to maintain flight. She’s been watching Avon long enough. Avon didn’t have anyone to learn like Jessie does. People wished she’d fall when she’d jump from roofs. Hope she’d break her neck and be gone. But she learned to fly all the same. Jessie deserves more than that.

Jessie tips her ears to the side, blinking glowing purple eyes as she hears something. “Hey, what are you doing?” Avon questions, struggling to keep hold of the dragonet as her black wings beat against Avon’s arms. Avon has to hover midflight, her own wings cresting and curving to keep hold. “Stop it Jessie! You’re going to fall!”

The little dragon chitters and growls, before finally slipping free from Avon’s grip. She opens her wings wide, and claws dig into the leather of Avon’s gloves as she leaps free. But rather than fall- Jessie flies. Black wings spread wide, catching the air and letting her soar across the sky. A few nervous flaps shake and stutter along, but she dips low.

And Avon realizes Jessie isn’t flying alone. Another creature is flying beside Jessie. Another dragon, elongated and without wings, about as large as Jessie. The noodle dragon dips into the canopy, disappearing among the leaves. Jessie dives after it, crashing through branches. Avon follows, unwilling to let Jeane’s daughter get lost.

If landing in a normal forest was hard, a roofed forest was impossible. Wings are caught in branches and twigs, until Avon collapses to the ground beneath the trees. She sits up as soon as she hears another voice. A soft song whispers across the forest, and Avon snaps her head around to find it’s source.

A lanky person sits with Jessie, black and grey freckled fingers petting down Jessie’s spines. Tufted blue hair spikes outward, with the noodle creature resting on a black hoodie. They look up, a short gasp escaping the stranger’s lips as they lay eyes on Avon. “Is...is she yours?” They peer closer, eyes wide. “You have dragon wings!”

“Uh, yeah?” Avon isn’t sure someone’s ever had a positive reaction towards her wings. But this person seems shy but curious about her.

“I’m sorry… it’s been years since I’ve seen an ender dragon. I thought they went extinct here as well. I’m Star, and what a cute dragonet!” They pick up Jessie, who squeaks and gains an ego with such praise.

Avon bites her lip, sitting down next to Star. They don’t seem dangerous, or at least not someone who will cause a fight. “Jessie’s mom died, I’ve been taking care of her since the invasion.”

“Invasion? Here too?” Star sighs. “Why don’t we have some lemonade and I can hear the story you have to tell?”

______________________________________________

Red laughs as the parrot before her imitates the distant bark of a dog. It’s higher pitched, but close enough for her to believe it really is a puppy. The parrot then begins to imitate her laugh, which only makes her giggle even more. Soon, the entire forest is full of laughter.

Red doesn’t know why more people don’t call the jungle home. This place is great! It’s so bright and green, with trees taller than he’s ever seen and rivers that wind through the biome at it’s own leisurely pace. The humidity wraps around him like the ocean, comforting and heavy as a blanket.

“Alright, little birdies. I gotta keep on walking. Unless you know someone who can help me stop a massive army of fiery death?” Red stands up, stretching his arms over his head.

“We know just the person!” Red jumps out of his skin as the parrots respond. Not just imitate, but respond.

“You guys can talk?” Red tilts his head, peering at the blue macaw in front of him. Watching for it to respond.

The bird squawks, but it’s mouth doesn’t say anything. But the voice returns. Rather, it’s behind Red. “They can’t, but this little birdy can!”

Red sees blue feathers dance in the air as a bright figure leaps from the vines to the ground. A stunning array of greens, blues, and yellows welcome Red to the new person before him. Blue hair, feathery as the blue wings, curls around a small face. Just a little taller than Red, but shorter than Avon. “You aren’t a human? What are you?”

“I’m a kipling! And I’m Red, by the way. Who am I talking to?” The person before him eases back, the antsy nerves returning to bouncy joy.

“I’m Perri, nice to meet you Red the Kipling. What brings you to this neck of the jungle?” A parrot comes to rest on Perri’s shoulder, the two twittering a short conversation with one another.

“I’m looking for people, friendly people who want to help me and my friends with something big.” Red hates knowing that he’s asking for people to help cause trouble, to fight for something they hardly understand. But they need the help. And maybe someone like Perri can help it be less deadly.

Perri’s quick to catch onto Red’s change in emotions. She leans forward, tapping Red’s shoulders. “I’m sure whatever it is, I can do something. What’s the problem?”

“There’s a fight coming.” Red can’t help but agree with Perri’s grimace at the word ‘fight’. She seems just as happy about a battle as Red. “But we can’t avoid it, unfortunately. We exhausted our attempts to. You don’t seem like the kind of person to get into a fight.”

“No, I’m not.” Perri sighs. Red’s shoulders fall, and he starts to stand. To continue looking for someone to cause more damage. “But… maybe you guys could use someone to heal your wounds? I can do that.”

“You want to help us? To save our world?” A nervous smile appears on Red’s cheeks.

“I will do anything to protect what I care about.” Perri’s wings open as she stands. Ready for the fight, even if she won’t be on the front lines.

___________________________________________

“We should avoid a village.” Avon whispers to Jessie, the dragonet taking off from her shoulder. Jessie has been near impossible to keep out of the sky since she learned to fly with Star’s familiar. They went separate ways, Star towards the hermits setting up camp while Avon continued her search. “They don’t really like dragons, Jessie. Trust me.”

The baby dragon lands on a branch of orange acacia wood, stretching perpendicular to the dry savanna grass. She looks so curious, so interested in seeing the town before them. Such innocence. Avon sighs, and turns around.

Running right into the sturdy metal of an iron golem’s chest. Avon topples over, crying out as the lumbering beast towers over her. Avon pulls free her trident, putting it between herself on the ground and the looming sentinel. She didn’t think that golems wandered this far from villages!

The golem sees Avon’s threat displays, and firmly presses it’s arms down onto Avon’s wings. Pinning her to the ground. She kicks out, swinging her trident to no avail. She doesn’t like golems, and they never like her. Jessie leaps from her perch on the tree, landing quite heavily on Avon’s chest. She opens her wings and lets out as fierce a growl a few-weeks old baby dragon can.

��Rusty, no! That’s not how we greet visitors!” A voice shouts, followed by the clack of metal as someone appears. A pair of arms pushes the iron golem away from Avon, the golem listening to the person and letting go of Avon’s wings. She scoops Jessie into her arms, rolling backwards and away from the golem. Wings spread wide and trident at arm's length. “I’m so sorry, stranger, Rusty must’ve thought you were a phantom or something!”

The golem’s friend turns around, offering a smile as warm as the savanna sun. Tanned dark skin stained with redstone dust and short hair mussed with the dust. Redstone alights and locks across the person’s legs, an advanced redstone contraption that Avon totally doesn’t understand. She knows nothing about redstone. She stands up, ignoring the friendly hand offered to her. “It’s not the first time a golem has attacked me, at least...err, Rusty was gentler.”

“Are those wings real? Wait, hold on. I’m Pierre, what’s your name?” He smiles, waving to himself, his maroon waistcoat.

“Avon, and yes.” She looks past him, watching as the golem lumbers back towards a home at the edge of the biome. Jessie leaps free, awing Pierre as she chases after the fox that appeared beside him. The two chirp and tussle beside Pierre and Avon. “Are you a redstone engineer?”

“I like to think I am. I mean, I built these.” He shows off his redstone legs, proud of his handiwork. “What makes you ask, Avon?”

“Would you be willing to help me and my friends with something?” Avon tilts her head, feathery blonde hair falling around her.

“Depends on what it is, but I’m sure I can at least aid you and your friends. Why don’t you come rest up at my house, and we can talk about adventures?” Pierre nods his head towards the house.

“I have a feeling there may be an opportunity for another adventure at hand, if you’re ready to protect your home.” Avon’s shoulders ease, watching the golem warily but following Pierre. Watching as the dragonet and fox wrestle in the tall grass. Let’s hope Jessie doesn’t realize she has fire breath in this biome.

#wandering stars #ecto #avon #red #bre #star #perri #pierre #minecraft #mineblr #minesona #mcsona #minecraft persona #writing

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welcometothebookreport · 4 years ago

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In 2020, I read 40 books (with maybe a few more to be added after I post this) after discovering my love of reading all over again. I am not a very hard reader to please, so it will be rare for me to rate a book with a low score, so I doubt you’ll ever see any criticism from me. So, here we go!

A few things before I start: There are three series in this list (but technically only two, because I’ve only read Serpent & Dove so far) but I’ve limited myself to no repeat authors. That must have been the hardest part for me. Since Jessi went the extra mile and ranked them in order, I’ve decided to make myself suffer the same. And while most of these were not published in 2020, they were read in 2020.

I am (sometimes) a picky reader, but any book that is on this list, I have loved. I chose not to rate them because honestly, they would have all been high. I give ratings easily, and try not to pick things apart even for books I truly did not like.

Please keep in mind that I do my best to add trigger warnings, but you should always check for certain triggers before reading. Triggers vary for everyone.

10. Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

Warnings: There’s a male character that’s a creep and you’ll spot him as soon as you crack this one open. This tale deals with Peyton being sentenced to prison, and their mother practically glossing over what he’s done by victim blaming.

I have read Dessen’s books since I was 13 and I truly still enjoy her stories as much as I did then. While this was a re-read for me, it’s a tie for my favorite book of hers. It’s tied with Along For the Ride.

Sydney is left in the aftermath after her older brother, Peyton, is sentenced to prison after a drunk driving accident that paralyzes a boy. Formerly in his shadow, Sydney struggles to discover what it is she wants, and how she wants to be seen as her own mother seems to gloss right over her. It’s a YA read that always feels like more than the romance that originally interested me.

9. Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Warnings: Misogyny. The church and religion plays an extremely heavy part of this plot, which was hard for me to get into. It’s clear that some characters do not value women in their actions and words toward Lou. It made me uncomfortable in spots because I just wanted to get past it, but I plan to read this one again since I know that it won’t bother me this time! Still, there is: violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women, and again, misogyny.

I finished this one two days ago, and I sincerely cannot wait to dig into the sequel. Lou is a witty, snappy character that was such a breath of fresh air from the normal. You usually see the male lead that’s a bit crude, a bit quick to pull the trigger, and the one that’s harder to crack. Is that what happened here? Absolutely fucking not. Shelby Mahurin took something I loved, enemies to lovers, and kicked its ass. Forced marriage? UM YES. A witch and a witch-hunter? Mortal enemies? Characters that can never possibly love each other? DONE DONE DONE.

It’s hilarious in parts. Serious when it needs to be. A bit spicy too, while not a lot, which I certainly appreciate. Reid’s character development is a wonder to watch, at least for me, and by the end of the book, I am so in love with him that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have so many annotations for this novel.

8. The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Warnings: There’s a fair bout of murder. Women are expected not to take lovers before marriage while men are not held to the same standard. Gross. Allessandra is continually underestimated so let me say: let the women do the work.

It’s called the Slytherin romance we’ve been waiting for, and I agree. While this is a shorter read, and a standalone, I was pleased with it. Both characters are incredibly ambitious, but it’s Allessandra that steals the show. The plan? To enter the palace, woo the king, and then kill him in order to take his kingdom. She’s wicked in all the ways I love.

I loved this book, and each page, but this was the line that will make me return to it: “I’m not a trollop,” I announce to the empty room. “I’m a sexually empowered woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The Folk of the Air Series by Holly Black

Warnings: Aside from murder, there’s nothing that stands out to me as a trigger.

A series! The first! There’s something interesting about this series for me, and it’s that I didn’t fall in love altogether, all at once. It was gradual, like wading into water until it went right over my head. By the final fourth of The Cruel Prince, I was fully invested in this world and I absolutely needed to know how Jude and Cardan would become, well, Jude and Cardan.

As a YA series, I was not expecting the sheer amount of mystery, political intrigue, and plot twists that came with this series. However, I never knew what was going to happen, and if I did guess what was coming, Black had at least two more twists to send me for a loop. The Queen of Nothing was likely my favorite book of the series, with The Wicked King as a close second.

6. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Warnings: Discussion of attempted non-con assault, forced disclosure of sexuality

I laughed until my eyes watered and I nearly cried in this book. Delightfully funny, and snappy, RW&B delivers on everything I didn’t know that I needed. I had never read a book where LGBTQ was represented in such a positive light. As someone raised in a more conservative household, I’ve known my own sexual orientation for a long time, but this book made me feel like I could relax in my skin because this story was stunning.

Alex and Henry left me with so much hope that it’s impossible to ever put the lid back on. I’m so happy I read this.

(oh, god, we’re in the final five.)

5. The Caraval Series by Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Physical and emotional child abuse.

I could dedicate multiple posts to this series. Maybe I still will. While this is at number five, it’s my favorite series I’ve ever read. If I could only have one series to read for the rest of my life, I would choose this one. Hands down. Full stop. These characters live in my head constantly and I would give an obscene amount of things to read it all over again for the first time. I actually read this with two of my closest friends in our many book club, and we all loved it.

Doused in magic, this world is unveiled to us with excellent descriptions. Truly, Garber owned my heart within a few chapters. Scarlett is the elder sister, Tella the younger, and if you don’t love Tella by the end of Caraval, I promise you will. I know because I was skeptical, but here I am. I’ve said it to my friends, but Scarlett is the one who holds my hair while I have a hangover. Tella is the one that helps me start the bar fight.

With non-stop turns, and magic, everything comes to life on these pages. And the romance, the romance. Please, please give me my great love in this style. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

4. Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Warnings: loss of sibling, loss of parent, alcoholism, mention of infidelity, mentions of previous physical and emotional child abuse.

Mae sent this recommendation to me, and I devoured all of Kemmer’s books post-haste. Declan and Juliet fall in love without knowing who the other is, while also not liking the real version of their penpal. Juliet has lost her mother, and she’s treading water, but not well. Declan has suffered in the years that follow a family tragedy, and he’s not adapting to life with his new step-father.

But he opens with CemetaryGirl (Juliet) and it’s raw in the best of ways, and the openness between them that eventually moves from their bubble to reality is one of the most pleasing things to read. I’ve read it twice this year. I will read it again next year too.

I also read this twice this year and will for sure be reading it again in 2021.

3. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Warnings: Child abuse.

This was another novel that I fell in love with as I went, and that’s definitely because of the non-linear narrative. It was a little confusing, but I’m going to read it again someday since I know everything now! I read this to follow-up to Caraval with my book club pals, and it’s just what I needed to leave Caraval behind. Marco and Celia are incredible and I absolutely believe that the ending of this novel is one of the best endings I’ve ever read.

My book club has not finished this book entirely this so I’m not sharing any spoilers, but I would like to share one of my favorite quotes. “What did you wish for?” “I wished for her.”

2. Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton

Warnings: Cuba is in the middle of a revolution, and it’s tense in parts. There are some bittersweet elements and I think the parts of the ending are like the punch in the gut you need in order to wake you up and remember to live.

This was my first read once I really dug back into this hobby in August. It was picked by Reese Witherspoon for her book club, and she always picks good books. This is a dual timeline romance, and mystery. It’s an absolute stunner of a book. It’s a dear favorite to me now. I’ve never been to Cubs, or heard stories, but Cleeton manages to make you feel like you’re right there feeling saltwater spray across your face.

The romance made me feel breathless, but truly it’s the strong familial ties that make this such a beautiful gem. It leaves you with hope even in the dark and with love in the absence of it. I could scream about this book for the rest of my life, which I absolutely intend to do.

Favorite line? “You’re going to be difficult to walk away from, aren’t you?” “I hope so.”

1 In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Warnings? There are none that strike me. This is a lighthearted read that pulls at the heartstrings, but it’s by no means short on the laughs. And, I’m sorry for the long wall of text below.

In A Holidaze is the story of a woman stuck in her ways of never going after what she truly wants until a stray wish lands her in a time loop over the holidays. It's only after repeating the same day a few times that she quite literally says "fuck this," and starts living for HER. I really expected this to just be a Hallmark kind of read, but it was SO MUCH MORE. You should read it, even if it's after the holidays.

It's witty, and heart-wrenching, and it's just everything I didn't know I needed. Mae is snarky, and brave when she figures out that there is nothing stopping her, and the romance is - GODDAMN. Andrew. I need an Andrew and a fan.

It's not quite a love triangle, which was what I expected and I was so pleasantly surprised. I have grinned like a goddamn fool all day. I have giggled all day in front of customers, and my co-workers. I have nearly CRIED in my bedroom when my heart fell out of my ass and landed somewhere near my ankles, because hello, it's gonna get you.

This is going on my yearly re-read list for the holidays.

In the two days since I’ve finished, I’ve convinced my two friends in book club to read it, convinced Jessi to order it from Book of the Month Club, convinced another friend to read it, and bought it for Mae on Christmas day because her library had a six month hold and that was simply unacceptable.

#kelseyreads #2020 Top 10 Reads

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waywardnerd67 · 5 years ago

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Fast Cars & Bleeding Hearts Part II

Summary: Charlie speeding back into (Y/N)’s life leaving her mind and heart spinning. Unable to focus on her races costs her, but nothing compares to the thumping ache in her chest watching Charlie winning races. Will she be able to push aside her feelings long enough to win the most important race of the night? Characters: Charlie (OMC), Jessie (OFC), Kyle (OMC), Joel (OMC), Sean aka King (OMC), Reader Pairing: Charlie x Reader / Joel x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2399 A/N: Once again, Charlie Hunnam starred in my dreams and I am here to continue the story.

Check out: Fast Cars & Bleeding Hearts

(Y/N) let her eyes wander up Charlie’s body. His jeans were hanging low on his narrow hips. His chest and shoulders were broader. Even through his hoodie, she could see his biceps bulging. Charlie had shorter hair now from what she could see under his black ball cap. Then her eyes connected with his, the same deep blue ones she fell in love with when they were teenagers.

“It’s nice to see you again, (Y/N). You look great.” His hand ran over the back of his neck as he smiled at her.

(Y/N) shook her head slightly, “Thanks, you too. What brings you back to town?”

His eyes glanced behind her, “Wow, your car looks great. May I?” he asked, starting to walk past her.

“No,” she reached out pressing her hand against his firm chest, “you gave up the right to look under her hood when you ditched us five years ago. I suggest you get your own car ready because King will be starting soon.”

She turned back towards her car not looking back at the man her heart ached for. The man who disappeared from her life in her weakest moment. (Y/N) heard Kyle talking to Charlie as they walked away. She leaned against her car placing her head down on it when Jessie stood next to her.

“When he first reached out to Kyle, I told him to tell Charlie to fuck off.” (Y/N) looked over to her best friend chuckling.

“Let me guess, he used his charm on you to get you to agree to him having the apartment.” she lifted her head and turned to lean her back against her car.

Jessie shook her head, “No he couldn’t charm me if he tried. Charlie told me where he had been the last five years and why he left. It was time for him to come home.”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Really? What could he have possibly said that justifies him leaving his coma ridden girlfriend?”

“That’s his story to tell, (Y/N). For what it’s worth, I think you should hear him out,” Jessie touched her shoulder, “However, right now you need to focus on kicking ass and winning races.”

(Y/N) laughed, “You’re right. King is going to start soon.”

Race night always began with Sean or as he was known on the streets, King, having a drivers’ meeting. He would go over rules, expectations and then draw for races. Normally she would listen carefully since King was known for changing things up. Tonight, she could not focus on anything but the pair of blue eyes across the drivers’ circle staring at her.

“Alright, looks like our first race will be (Y/N) and Ronan. Y’all have twenty minutes to get to the line.” King dismissed them.

(Y/N) watched as Charlie walked over to King having an intense conversation. It was only when someone tapped her on the shoulder that she looked away. Kyle was standing next to her and she gave him a gentle shove with her shoulder.

“I know you hate him and I know you want answers. For now, push it aside and focus on the road in front of you.” Kyle’s calm voice brought her mind to focus clearly.

She gave him a short nod before walking alongside him to her car. Exactly twenty minutes later, (Y/N) was revving her car on the starting line. Ronan next to her with his ‘87 Camaro z28 which was nearly five hundred pounds lighter than her Chevelle. She turned back towards the road in front of her when her eyes went wide seeing who was flagging the race.

Charlie stood in between them about six feet up. A flashlight in his right hand and his blue eyes on her. (Y/N) was even more surprised to see sympathy in his eyes right before he flashed his light signaling for them to go. Being focused on Charlie caused her to be slow off the line. She lost to Ronan by half a car length which was not too bad, but if she had been focused she could have won.

Driving back to her trailer, she parked taking off her helmet, “Shit!” she yelled opening the door.

“What happened?” Kyle asked as Corey popped the hood of her car.

(Y/N) spotted Ronan making his way over for the two hundred dollars they had bet. Walking up into her trailer she grabbed their money box to get the money.

“Off your game tonight, (Y/N).” He said holding his hand out.

She slapped the two bills in his hand, “I guess your lucky night. I’ll get that back from you soon, Ro.”

He walked off laughing while she walked back to her car. Kyle and Corey were looking over the data on his computer.

“King is fucking with me, isn’t he?” she asked when her friends looked over to her.

Kyle nodded, “You knew he would. You’ve taken a lot of money off his guys and now he sees a way to make the playing field even.”

“When’s my next race?” (Y/N) pulled her hood on her head and grabbed her headphones from her purse.

Corey looked up at her, “At least a half-hour. I wouldn’t tune anything on the car so she’s ready.”

She gave them a thumbs up then started to walk down the path towards the entrance they all came in. There were only King’s watchers out there keeping an eye out for cops. (Y/N) pulled out her phone turning on her favorite playlist. Her favorite band blared into her ears calming her instantly. She loved it when they would race out here. The night sky was cloudless which meant the stars were shining bright. Letting out a long breath seeing it in front of her, (Y/N) began to walk back towards her car.

The night was turning out to be a bust. No matter how hard she tried, Charlie flagging her races were too distracting. Every race she was up against one of King’s drivers. After her third loss, she stormed off to confront King about it. Kyle and Corey hot on her trail.

“King!” she called out as she approached his trailer.

Sean was a larger than life kind of guy. He was nearly a foot taller than she was and a round belly that was usually hidden under a baggy t-shirt. She never had an issue with him until one night his drivers kept challenging her to races and she took all their money. It was all fair and square which was the way King ran all his races, but apparently he does hold grudges.

“(Y/N), what can I do for you?” he said, stepping out of his trailer with a smug smile on his face.

“Well you could start by stop fucking with my races.” She stood with her hands on her hips staring right up at him.

His eyes flashed with anger for a moment, “You’re accusing me as messing with your races. Why would I ever do that?”

Before she could say anything a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist pulling her back. She watched as Kyle and Corey started to talk to King as she was being dragged away.

“Hey! Get off me!” she yelled trying to break free from whomever had her.

A familiar raspy voice had her body stiffening, “(Y/N), shut up before King decides to do something rash.”

Charlie let go of her and she whirled around with her fist connecting with his jaw, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Charlie chuckled, rubbing his jaw, “Damn… forgot about your killer right hook.”

“Is your life’s mission to make my life a living hell?” she asked, pushing him as hard she could.

“Of course not, (Y/N). I don’t want to do this, but I have too whatever King says. It’s part of my agreement to be back here. And you know what?” He pulled her closer to him, leaning in until their noses were almost touching.

She sucked in a breath, “W-What?” she whispered.

“It’s all worth it to be able to see you again, pretty girl.” His lips pressed against hers making her head spin.

“(Y/N)?”

She pulled away hearing her name only to come face to face with her boyfriend, Joel, eyes wide in shock. (Y/N) looked between the two men in front of her. Her mind urged her to run and her body gave in to that urge as she ran past them both. Each of them called out her name but she did not stop running until she was at her trailer again.

Jessie was talking with Kyle when (Y/N) got there, “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Joel. Charlie.” she said in between gulps of air.

Kyle grabbed a hold of her shoulders, “We’ve got bigger problems than that right now. King wants you and Charlie to be the last race. A thousand dollars on the line and that will be the last of our cush fund.”

Her body shook and she felt as if she would pass out, “I-I can’t.”

Kyle helped her over to a chair in the trailer while Jessie grabbed her a water bottle, “Look I know a lot of shit is going down, but we need this win. I don’t know what Charlie’s deal is with King but he won’t throw the race. We need you to win.”

(Y/N) took a long drink from the bottle nodding, “Okay. Okay. Let’s make some adjustments to the car because we know Charlie has got some power under his hood.”

Ten minutes later, (Y/N) was pulling up to the starting line where Charlie’s cherry red Chevelle was already there. He was looking straight ahead gripping his steering wheel tightly. One of King’s drivers was flagging the race and she turned her eyes to the road ahead of her.

“When you’re on the line don’t look anywhere but the finish line. The people around you, the driver next to you means nothing. The only thing that matters is crossing that finish line first.” Charlie’s words from when they raced together echoed in her mind.

Focusing on the quarter mile in front of her as soon as she saw the flashlight shine, she pressed her foot to the accelerator taking off like a bullet. Everything blurred around her as she kept her car steady in a straight line. A speck of red creeping up on her right side as the finish line came into view. Pressing her foot down further trying to edge out Charlie the finish line flashed beneath them as both their chautes popped out.

Both cars stopped and they each took off their helmets. Looking to one another a wide smile was mirrored across their faces as they got out of their cars. (Y/N) jumped into his arms as he spun her around.

“Damn pretty girl, that is the best race I’ve had in a long time!” Charlie put her feet back on the ground, his arms keeping her against him.

“Yeah it was even if King will make it to where he gets the money.” She tried to take a step back, but Charlie held her closer, “Charlie…”

“I know. Your boyfriend gave me an ear full. I just want you to hear my side of what happened that night. I will keep my distance out of respect for your boyfriend, but I… I can’t leave here tonight without this.” His lips crashed against hers.

Time froze in that moment and it was just the two of them together. All the anger and resentment she had for him vanished. Her hands found their way up into his soft blond hair. A low groan rumbling from his chest as his hands slid down to her hips. Just as quickly their kiss started, Charlie broke away stepping away from her.

“Boyfriend or not, I’m here to stay,” he stepped closer his lips near her ear, “and you’re worth the wait pretty girl.”

Charlie stepped past her getting back in his car and driving back to the starting line. (Y/N) stood there her mind wildly trying to process everything that happened. She quickly got back into her car, making her way back to the starting line where everyone was waiting. Pulling up, she found Kyle, Corey and King looking at a computer screen.

Parking her car, she walked up to them just as Charlie was, “What’s going on?”

“It was too close to call so they’re reviewing the footage.” Jessie explained coming to stand beside her.

(Y/N) glanced over to her, “Where’s Joel?” she whispered.

Jessie nodded towards their trailer, “Back there. He didn’t want to watch the race.”

“We clearly have a winner.” King announced.

Seeing Kyle and Corey’s faces told (Y/N) everything she needed to know. Just as she assumed, King announced Charlie the winner by a bumper. Corey was cursing under his breath as he handed her the money. She walked over to King and Charlie handed him the money.

“Good race. I’ll win this back soon.” she said as she held her hand out to him.

Charlie shook her hand holding onto it tightly, “I’m sure you will.” he winked at her before letting go of her hand.

Walking away from him was hard for (Y/N) but she looped her arm with Jessie’s making her way back to her car to pack it up for the night. Joel was standing beside the truck talking with Kyle while Corey finished packing up their stuff.

“Give me a ride home, handsome?” she asked, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“Yeah, I think we have a lot to talk about.” Joel started walking toward his car as Kyle gave her sympathetic squeeze on her shoulder.

Her and Joel drove in silence for a while until he pulled off to a rest area. There was no one around and they were still an hour from being home.

She turned in her seat towards him, “You’re not going to murder me out here?” she joked.

Joel shook his head not looking at her, “Tell me everything about Charlie. Don’t leave anything out including your feelings for him. Then, we can decide if this relationship is worth keeping for either of us.”

Tagging: @maddiepants (because she read the last one lol)

#original fiction #dreams into fiction #not spn

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marchpisces · 7 years ago

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So recently I just got into the Stonathan fandom and am absolute in love with these two.

I’m also watching a Chinese show called “歌手” (The Singer) and while listening to Jessie J’s Killing me softly with his song cover, and a story just hit me.

This is an AU where nothing in Stranger Things ever happened to Hawkins, and of course Mike still had a chance to meet Eleven, and Eleven is actually Jane Hopper - our dearest chief’s daughter.

Let’s talk about Stonathan though

Without all the events in Stranger Things, Steve would still be dating Nancy.

Nancy was smart, her thought was way ahead of their time, she figured nothing would make her happier than being one of the most influential journalists and so after she graduated high school, she broke up with Steve and finally moved to New York with her bestie Barb to follow her dream

Steve himself got a job at his dad company, Tommy H and Carol would have all gone to college, leaving him alone. They did not lose contact but Steve just did not feel like talking to them anymore because they were not really the kind of friend Steve would want to keep

Steve was lonely, he had no friend, no lover, he barely made progress in his job, so to make himself feel better, one night, he decided to stop by the only bar in town for a drink and listen to people singing

He did not know for sure what urged him to do such thing but he glad he did because Jonathan Byers, who worked there, would perform a song each night and listening to Jonathan singing somehow made Steve feel so relaxed.

He went there for a month or so before he made up his mind to talk to Jonathan

There was nothing much for the two to talk about at first, they would just talk about work and occasionally mentioned how great Nancy’s life in New York was because yes, she was the only string and topic pulling them together. For most of the time, Steve would be the only one to talk, Jonathan preferred listening to him anyway

One day Steve got really drunk and Jonathan didn’t know why, drunk Steve didn’t talk as much as the usually Steve, he acted like a really nice kid and did whatever Jonathan told him to

Though he got sleepy after his eighth drink and poor Jonathan had to carry him home, Jonathan couldn’t find it in him to leave Steve sleep on the sofa so he let Steve sleep on his bed

Jonathan woke up really early although he always worked the afternoon/evening shift (from 1PM to 9PM) and so today he woke up with Steve face in his chest and his arms and legs all over him.

Steve did wake up half an hour after that because Will was knocking really loud on the door, he felt totally embarrassed and apologized for being so damn clingy, Jonathan laughed and said it was nothing

Jonathan then made breakfast, and had Steve sat down because “It’s Sunday” Jonathan said “Take it easy on yourself and just enjoy the meal I’ve prepared for you, will you”

Joyce would be a little surprised because Jonathan never brought a friend home, let alone letting them stay for the night but Steve was really polite and what the hell, Joyce would not care even if Steve was actually Jonathan’s boyfriend as long as he can make her baby boy happy

They had small talks every few minutes before Will went out with his friends, Bob also stopped by to pick Joyce up for their date, leaving the whole house to Jonathan and Steve

At a time like this, Jonathan figured it is a good time to ask Steve about whatever was troubling him. He squeezed Steve shoulder, hoping to that Steve understand that no matter what problem he was facing, Jonathan was willing to help.

Steve blushed, his face was so red Jonathan wondered if he suddenly caught a fever.

He did not tell Jonathan his feeling because he was too afraid, afraid that Jonathan would find him crazy.

He managed to keep calm and tell Jonathan about how lonely he felt having no friends, making zero progress at work and how his dad expectation exhausted him, Jonathan did not say a word, but the next day they met Jonathan did offer Steve some sweets because Steve loved sweets

Their friendship had gone to a new level, Jonathan opened up more and since they both have issues with their dad, they had a really special bond

Steve thought he was ok with being Jonathan friend until Jonathan told him some girl confessed to him. I know, this is so cliché. Steve got really sad but he acted like he’s fine with it and tell Jonathan to try dating the girl.

Jonathan didn’t say anything but then he did ask the girl for a date, he even asked Steve to help to set up for a romantic date or something for them.

I mean at this point, it was too much for Steve so Steve turned him down, saying he had lots of work lately so he could not help. The next few days, he spent his evening in his house, avoiding Jonathan and for once, Steve was actually grateful that his parents were almost never home.

He hadn’t met up with Jonathan for five nights and it felt like a century had passed by. The door bell rang, Steve paused the movie on VCR and went to open the door just to find a very lonely looking Jonathan standing there.

Steve did not say anything, he moved aside to let Jonathan in.

They both sat down in the living room, not saying a word.

Then Jonathan cleared his voiced and asked Steve why he did not show up at the bar these nights, Steve simply replied that he was busy with work

Jonathan was quiet for a few seconds before he laughed making Steve felt so confused. Jonathan finally said “And here I thought you were jealous of that girl, you didn’t want to see me go on a date with her.”

Steve got shocked but his expression remained calm, Jonathan continued, “For a while back, I was getting this feeling that you had a crush on me. It wasn’t something I feel happy for, but I certainly don’t hate it.”

“I like to spend time with you, and feel like there’s a special connection between us.” Jonathan smiled “That was when I realized I like you”

“No one confessed to me, I just wanted to see how you would react if there really was someone. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about your feelings. I guess I just want to make sure you really like me before confessing so I won’t get punch in the face”

“That’s what I have to say, so sorry for bothering you. I’m going to leave now.”

Jonathan stood up and started walking, Steve pulled him back for a kiss, it was sloppy at first but then got really passionate.

Fast forward to the sex scene, I mean I’m not good with words so sorry for not being able to describe how passionate their kiss was.

When Jonathan entered him, it hurts so much Steve started to regret being the bottom but when he saw Jonathan worried expression and how small and precious Jonathan was (though Jonathan is only a bit shorter than him), he couldn’t bring himself to let Jonathan bear this pain. But the longer they do it, the pain just went away, replaced by waves of pleasant feeling.

So they were officially dating, Steve did not want anyone to know yet but Jonathan did tell Nancy, she was so surprised at first because she did not think they would even be friend at first let alone dating, but she did congratulate them and she meant it.

Joyce was the first one to noticed that they were dating, then Will and his gang, then Bob, yes Bob was the last to even noticed, although he was really smart, he just was not that good at reading the atmosphere, but every one was happy for them.

Hawkins was a small town, eventually every one in town will know, Steve got beaten by his dad for the first time, his mom was crying and saying how disappointed she was, Jonathan wanted to help but Steve decided it was his time to stand up for himself and do what he felt like was best for him.

He quit the job at his dad company and start getting a job at the police station, though people still gave him eyes and talked about him behind his back, he knew that he did not have to care about it as long as he could make a living. Chief Hopper was a great boss anyway, he treated Steve the same as before.

Steve’s parents pretended like they did not have a son like him, it would be a huge lie to say Steve was not sad, but the Byers were like his family now, Joyce liked talking to him and showing him pictures’ of Jonathan when he was young; Will trusted him when asking for some love advice; and most important was Jonathan cherished him.

Hawkins was a small town, nothing much happened, Jonathan and Steve watched as Will got married, Mike and Jane got their first baby girl, Nancy finally return home with a three-year-old son and was a proud single mother and also a very influential journalist at the age of thirty five and so on

Jonathan and Steve watched as things changed, as the elders parted with Hawkins and as the younger generation were born

Nothing much happened in Hawkins, Jonathan and Steve did not achieve anything big in their lives, but Steve was so grateful for all of these years

He remembered when he was in his sickbed that Jonathan, now an old man but still as charming as he was the first time they met, asked Steve: “Did yo ever regret about all of this?”

Steve smiled gently and patted Jonathan’s hand: “Idiot, if I ever feel regret, would I stay with you until you turn into an ugly old man?”

Jonathan also smiled and put a kiss on Steve fore head.

The day Steve was gone was a rainy day, that night Jonathan dreamed about the first time they met.

Steve was sitting there with a cup of whiskey on his hand, totally in awe when Jonathan sang. There was something about Steve, maybe it was his hair, maybe it was his eyes, or maybe it was because of the lights in the bar, but Jonathan could not keep his eyes from Steve as he sang.

“Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly, with his words”

God, I know, this is so goddamn cliché, it might have made you feel bored or cringe so hard.

But goddamnit, what the hell, the story just hit me and I thought I should really write it down

#stonathan #steve harrington #jonathan byers #jonathan x steve #stranger things #random rant #fanfiction idea

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jessiegoesabroad · 6 years ago

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flowers and education research in the siempre primavera city > Cochabamba and my homestay, Bolivia

This is coming to you way late because of lack of service and wifi at the end of the program! We were in Cochabamba for the longest out of any other stop on the program - 3 whole weeks! Felt like a lot longer and a lot shorter at the same time. Cochabamba is the 4th biggest city in Bolivia and it is fondly referred to as having a “siempre primavera”, or a “forever spring”. It is in a rain shadow, which means that because of mountains nearby its climate is fairly dry, but it never gets too hot and it is fairly stable year round. Overall, the weather was really great! When we were there it was the month leading up to the summer solstice, and you could feel it, but it still felt really good. I keep saying that it felt like Florida but less humid. There were flowers everywhere - all over our house’s yard and down the streets. Even though it’s a busy place with a lot of cars there is still a lot beautiful greenery, if you look closely.

I totally lucked out and had an incredible homestay. I lived with my friend from the program, Sharlaine, my homestay mom, and one of her daughters, Fulvia. Our mom is a mom of 4 grown kids who also have their own kids and getting to share in the happiness of their big family was so special! We met two of her other kids and their spouses as well, and they are all so incredible. Our mom spends a lot of time listening to music and with her grandkids, and practicing her English with her and speaking Spanish with her was so awesome. She is so kind and giving, and from day 1 we really felt like her children. Fulvia, our sister, is literally the #1 MVP!!! She is a professional singer, teacher, and small business owner and is such a badass. Doing homework at our house often consisted of me at my computer listening to her voice from downstairs, cause how could I not! She is so talented and it was like having a private concert all the time, really. She is so sweet and caring and was SO much fun to be around!

Every day for class we would be at our amazing-beyond-words country coordinator, Ismael’s house. That was SUCH a treat. Ismael’s got a beautiful garden, which you walk through to get up to the house, and we had class in his dojo. It sounds as cool as it was! He seemed to have nearly every species of tropical AND arid plant ever in his garden. It was so special to have class in his home every day. It felt so good to have a home base and when school stuff got more stressful as we progressed in and through finals to be in a comfy space.

Ismael and his team are truly incredible. He is a documentary filmmaker who has been a pilot and lawyer, and an activist for a really long time. Learning about Bolivia from his perspective was very special. he would keep us grounded with meditations, incredible dad jokes, and hugs! He also ran the program with his partner, Lupe, and of course his amazing daughter, Krishna, or Krish. Lupe practices reiki and when I get struck with altitude sickness for a large portion of my time in Bolivia she would always offer up help and be ready with calming words and a much needed motherly presence. and Krish! She is totally the bomb! Krish did a lot of the logistics of the program and spearheaded much of the organization. She is SO funny and so kind, and became a great friend of mine. through all of my moments where I was hurting, she always gave the best advice and is someone I can really rely on. She felt like a big sister to me the whole time, and she and her whole family really feels like a second family to me. They are truly some of the most amazing people I have ever met.

Not only was my altitude sickness pretty bad, but my migraines got a lot worse while we were in Bolivia. I think it was really just a combination of being run down from traveling, the altitude, and stress, but I would get them a lot more often and with a higher intensity pretty much the whole time. It weighed heavily on my conscience because I had to miss some classes and eventually a few of my classmates’ final presentations, which made me pretty upset. I had one pretty bad episode, which had never happened to me before, where I lost vision and hearing for about 10 minutes and passed out for a few minutes from a migraine. That was pretty scary. And is also kinda the reason I am coming back to the states next semester! The doctors think that because my medication doesn’t work, I have been getting them more frequently and worse, and they’re hard to predict that I shouldn’t leave the country and go back out into the field again without treatment and medication. I was pretty gutted at first to not be able to go to Panama next semester but I know in my heart and my head that this is for the best. Don’t worry, please, because I am just fine! Doctors are good and the rest and relaxation from being at home has been very good to me. My body already feels better. and I really am looking forward to going back to the Rock next semester. I am SO excited to plan my thesis, and I am SOOO excited for my classes and to see everyone again! Between my professors, the staff, and of course my incredible friends, I am more excited than ever to return home to my school community. The time is right.

Cochabamba is such an incredible city and by the time our 3 weeks there was up I felt so at home! I love being able to go on walks and not use google maps, which was an achievement in whatever city we went to. Between the weather, the people, and the food, I felt like I fit right in. My Spanish is great and it felt awesome to use that and to connect with that part of who I am in a new context. The people are so kind and welcoming and excited to talk about Bolivia, which I love! Some of the most rewarding learning we did was about Bolivian politics, and important events like the Water Wars of 2000 in Cochabamba. I even talked about this with my extended family at our Christmas celebration this past week. Everyone is so passionate about it, and in very different ways. Right now in Bolivia there is a lot of contention within the political climate and what is best for Bolivia, and getting to even learn a little taste of it was so interesting. One of the best parts of this program has been getting to learn about climate issues and for me especially, issues of education, within the different political contexts. Vietnam, Morocco, and Bolivia are all SO different and even though Bolivia’s political system is closer to the US’s than Vietnam or Morocco’s, they have such a unique situation right now because of their history and current issues and that made for the most interesting learning environment. And of course, if anyone is headed to Bolivia, you must go to Cochabamba. What a beautiful place to be in. Not just to walk around and see, but to live in too.

but really what I spent most of my time in Cochabamba doing was my final research project. It feels really good to say that I am really proud of my work and I cannot wait to continue working on it in the future. The research that I clocked in this semester feels so significant and important and part of something bigger, which is tight. I have found a place for my passion in education and education justice, which makes my heart nearly burst with happiness and excitement! I wrote a 20 page paper and did a 20 minute presentation on my work on global education systems and how they do, or often don’t, teach climate change for finals and again, I remain excited about it! This feels like the gateway to a lot of much longer studies and more work in the future, but in the best way. As my thesis approaches and grad school becomes something more tangible in my mind, I get nervous, but also excited (nercited), and this kind of thing just makes me feel ready. Part of me thinks I’ll never really feel ready, and that’s plausible, but doing work that just feels right makes me think that I am doing something right and I am on the right track.

all my love,

jessie

the group at a site visit on a farm outside Cochabamba!

my INCREDIBLE homestay sister, Fulvia!

cow in a school’s community garden on a site visit in Cochabama

the always busy Avenida America - on my walk home from a cafe

friends walking home for lunch from class at Ismael’s!

my dear friend Emily and I walking home after studying :)

#bolivia #cochabamba #ihp climate change #ihp #international honors program #sit #sit study abroad #photos #climate change #study abroad

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lesbianstories-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Unfinished

Clare comes into town to chase the girl she doesn’t want to get away.

It was nearly 1am when Clare walked into the bar. Her heart thudded against her throat. The bar was crowded, which made sense. It was Friday night and Monet Money, one of Chicago’s most popular local drag queens, was performing.

And that’s why Clare was here.

Monet Money was roommates with Jessie. Jessie went to all of Monet’s shows. At least, she used to. For the first time since making the decision to come tonight, Clare felt the long fingers of doubt run along her spine. What if Jessie wasn’t here? What if she was here with Aliyah? What if she didn’t want to see her?

Clare shook her head. She needed to snap out of it. She made it this far. Butterflies still fluttering in her stomach, she pushed her way through the swarms of people to the bar.

“Hey, Clare? Holy shit is that you?”

Fuck. Clare forgot Marcus worked Friday nights.

“Hi” she said.

Marcus grinned at her from behind the bar, his tank top slick against his chest with sweat.

“Busy night?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

He winked. “I may have been on the bar a few times. Vodka soda with two limes?”

“Nah” she said, “Two jameson shots. I’m on a mission”.

Marcus laughed and turned to grab the bottle. Even though she had wanted to be in the city incognito for the night, it was nice to see him. He was familiar and despite the fact that she could see both of his nipples through his shirt, he made her feel safe.

“Now tell me why you’re here and why you didn’t hit me up?” Marcus said, setting down two shots.

She downed one fast, grimacing at the back end.

“It was unplanned, I just have this thing I have to do and then I’m gonna drive back”

The music swelled and people began cheering. Monet must be back for her second set.

“Whats this thing you have to do?” Marcus asked, squinted at her.

Clare held her hand to her ear, feigning innocence when Marcus rolled his eyes at her.

“Call me tomorrow” he said.

She blew him a kiss, took her other shot and slipped into the crowd.

The back room of the bar held the stage where drag queens and dancers performed. Clare inched closer until Monet came into view. She stood over 6 feet tall, long green braids brushing against the back of her heels as she painted furiously on an easel. . She wore a long black gown with a scoop neck almost down to her belly button. Clare remembered scouring Goodwill with Joshua and Jessie on the Tuesday after Christmas and finding that dress. Joshua had pulled it from behind a wedding dress.

“Ladies” he said, his voice booming through the store,I’ve found my dress”.

Jessie had come through the aisle, wearing an oversize knit vest with crochets kittens on the front.

“Ladies” she repeated, “I have also my dress. Well,” she amended “my vest”.

Clare began moving toward the right side of the stage, where Jessie usually stood. A roar of approval shot up from the crowd, and Clare watched as Monet triumphantly revealed her canvass; a huge, very detailed, neon green penis a huge set of lips opened above it, the same shade of pink as Monet’s lips. Amongst the cheering she heard one, very distinct, boo.

Clare would recognize that voice anywhere; Jessie.

And there she was. Leaning against the back wall of the bar, a half finished drink dangling from her fingers. Her hair was shorter than the last time Clare saw her, less shaggy. But she had the same grin on her face and acid wash jeans slung low on her hips. Clare felt her body propel forward, as if by instinct alone. The bar was so loud she managed to come right next to Jessie without her noticing. And for one small moment, it was enough just to look at her. To recognize each freckle on her nose, the way her cheeks flushed with color from the alcohol, the small hole beneath her bottom lip left over from an impromptu lip ring decision when she was 19. She was wearing small hoops in the line of piercings that crept up her ear, the last one covered by a small curl. And then, the moment passed, and Jessie turned, laughter on her face, and her eyes met Clare’s.

Her mouth dropped open and Clare could hardly breathe.

“Clare? What the fuck?”

Clare froze, suddenly worried that she was wrong to appear out of nowhere. She should have just texted.

But Jessie threw her arms out and hugged Clare, and Clare could feel her laughter reverberate through her own body.

“What are you doing here?” Jessie said against her hair.

Clare pulled away, and in that moment she almost kissed Jessie right there. But that would not be right. “Uh, let’s talk” she said, gesturing to the back door of the club. Jessie bobbed her head, downed her drink and followed her.

They walked into the alley, littered with broken bottles and smelling like stale beer. There was a guy sitting on an old crate on the far side of the street, his head in his hands, crying, as another guy rubbed his back and sucked on his cigarette feverishly. Not exactly the scene Clare had pictured. But, with Jessie looking at her expectantly, Clare knew she wasn’t going to have another chance.

“I think I love you”.

Shit. That was not the smoothest start.

Jessie’s eyebrows crinkled. “What?”

Clare stumbled over her words. “I mean, I don’t think, I know I love you.”

Jessie turned, so she was facing her head on.

“But you moved.”

“I know”

“You never said anything”

“I know”

“So why now?”

Clare let out a gust of air. “I just, I thought that I needed to move. Take that job offer, be independent, live in a new place on my own. And at first it was great. I made friends and found a new favorite sushi place and made a real salary. But something always felt unfinished. I would be laying in bed at night unable to fall asleep because something kept nagging at my brain, like I had forgotten something in Chicago.”

She looked at Jessie, at the glitter she wore beneath her eyes to hide her dark circles and the edge of the cat tattoo peeking out from her sleeve.

“I don’t know if you’re still with Aliyah, and I don’t even know if you have feelings for me.”

Clare shrugged, “But honestly, you are the one who got away. And I had to tell you. Even if you still get away.”

Jessie blinked at her. Clare counted the seconds. How many silent moments should pass before she should run away?

“You know I had the biggest crush on you, right?” Jessie said.

Clare opened her mouth and then closed it. That was not what she had expected Jessie to say.

“I mean, I had an inkling”

“An inkling?”

Clare held up her hands, “I didn’t know for sure!”

Jessie laughed, shoving Clare’s shoulders. “I switched the schedule so we worked together every Saturday. I brought you candy, I put notes in your work locker like a goddamn middle schooler!”

Clare blushed. “Well, I was scared!”

Jessie smiled at her, but didn’t say anything else. Nerves bubbled in Clare. She looked down at her hands.

“Am I too late?” she mumbled.

She felt Jessie shift in front of her, and Clare looked up at her.

“Maybe” Jessie admitted, “but I kind of don’t care”. She smiled.

Clare smiled too, and in a moment she had been dreaming about for months, she reached forward, and kissed Jessie.

It felt like kissing someone for the first time. In her head, this moment was full of lust and passion and fiery eyes. However, standing, pressed against Jessie in an alley, Clare felt nervous and giddy and 13 again. Jessie tasted like whiskey and coke and she felt Jessie’s hands flit between her shoulders and her hair, and their teeth bumped. It was awkward and sweet and so worth the wait.

#lesbian #Girls who like girls #fiction #ClarexJessie #short stories #stories

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albinohare · 6 years ago

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A test of commitment: a young couple cross the North Atlantic from Michigan to Cornwall

Jessie Zevalkink and her fiancé Luke Yeates, sailed from her house to his – 4,800 North Atlantic miles from Michigan to Cornwall

Luke asked me marry him. My feet didn’t touch the ground, I was airborne in saying yes. Within a month we were discussing sailing trips, big sailing trips, the kind of trips that people spend lifetimes planning. Luke is the kind of guy who chases big ideas. He tackles them and they become his reality. His athleticism in this department is impressive.

I was never hankering to cross an ocean. It rested on my mind as a possibility but it wasn’t eating me, in fact I probably had to be gently sold on the idea.

Luckily for Luke, he is a salesman, and a damn good one. My perspective on sailing oceans changed in meeting someone who had an admirable passion for the sea, and a confident familiarity with handling its multiple personalities. I began to think that I, too, had a small fraction of what he had. We had barely sailed together, but knew that we needed to.

I grew up as a leisurely passenger aboard Desireé, my father’s 1962 Pearson Invicta, sailing the Great Lakes. Then, I had no interest whatsoever in the action of sailing, purely catching rays and swimming to land. It wasn’t until five years ago that I sailed a boat alone for the first time. I bought a 1979 Cal 27 with one of my best friends, and we dreamed of taking it to the Bahamas.

Luke had his first taste of sailing as a kid growing up in New Zealand. The first time Luke sailed an Optimist he decided sailing was all he ever wanted to do. He forged sick notes and skipped school to go sailing. As a 12-year-old, he would disappear for lengthy afternoons sailing, much to the annoyance of his family, as he never told them where he was sailing and when he planned to return. He became obsessed, with racing in particular.

I remember the first night I met Luke, at the Annapolis Boat Show. There may have been tequila involved but one conversation I recall was sobering. Luke and a friend had sailed a Hobie cat around Britain at 21 years old, setting a speed record on the way. I understood his extremity; his pushing of boundaries, which made me feel like I had yet to push mine, even though I thought I already had. Simply imagining being on the trampoline of a Hobiefor 28 days straight, soaking wet and freezing, had my mind ping-ponging with questions. I wanted to know everything.

In agreeing to spend the rest of my life with Luke there was no question about my future on the ocean. When I realised what ingredients we had laid out in front of us, I pitched him my brilliant idea: “Let’s sail from my house to your house, Michigan to England, before we get married. The ultimate premarital test!”

I didn’t even have to finish the pitch before Luke was speaking in numbers, routes, seasons, and logistics. I sat my father down and chose my words wisely: “Dad, can we sail your boat to England?”

Desireéis solid, built by wooden boatbuilders during the early days of glass. She is a beautiful design tastefully crafted by Bill Tripp Jr. She is a yawl rig with long overhangs, a big, full bow and a lovely counter stern, with sweeping sheer lines and low freeboard.

Luke was in love with the demi bulwarks with their mahogany cap rail, essential for keeping all lines on board, not to mention having stopped both of us from sliding off the deck on several occasions. She was designed for the Newport to Bermuda Race, which her sistership won back in the Sixties. This was the first glassfibre design to win an offshore race anywhere. It was guaranteed the boat would be fast and strong enough for any ocean.

The never-ending job list began. Inside an ice-cold storage unit during a northern Michigan winter, we prepped Desireéto cross the Atlantic. With numb fingers we installed self-steering, solar, AIS, a new head, and pieced together a newly rebuilt engine.

We measured the rig for new sails, installed an inner forestay… and the list went on and on. By spring’s first thaw, we launched her and sailed away on 17 April, just a few degrees above freezing.

Our route took us across four of the choppy and unpredictable Great Lakes, out through the ripping currents of the St Lawrence Seaway and into the Atlantic Ocean.

We were to cross the North Atlantic from St Johns in Newfoundland to Falmouth, south-west England. I had never been so terrified and never wanted something so badly. Planning and executing this voyage took everything we had mentally, physically, emotional, and financially. Our relationship orbited Desireé, our conversation rarely straying from the Atlantic Ocean. We were completely consumed.

It took one month to get out of the Great Lakes and over to Montreal, a wicked and arctic experience of frosty decks with both water and air temperatures just a few degrees above freezing. The Great Lakes were fierce, but my motivation to sail the boat to the ocean was to gain the confidence and to prepare for conditions that we expected to be much fiercer.

Heading for ‘Iceberg Alley’

Sailing double-handed on a classic boat was demanding. Our first night out of Quebec City we had to short tack up a narrow shipping channel, all hands required on deck. With 9 knots of current and ships navigating the channel, we both remained awake until the following day. Progress was hampered on several occasions, by headwind gales and wicked tidal currents pushing and shoving us as they pleased. Time was ticking away and we were far behind our ambitious schedule that had been based around career obligations. ‘Iceberg Alley’ was up next, and it was not the place to be rushing.

We opted to sail without radar, agreeing it was just another distraction, another drain on the battery, and another excuse for our eyes not to be on the horizon. A controversial decision? Yes. We entered the iceberg zone on the south coast of Newfoundland where seven bergs had been reported. The sun had set, and I disliked that night more than any other. It was foggy and windy, the kind of fog that messes with your mind. We turned off our running lights to eliminate the back glow, in hopes of seeing just a few more feet ahead of the bow. We dropped all canvas apart from two reefs in the main to slow down. Lightning flashed twice a minute but there was nothing to see besides birds circling, fog, wind, and blackness.

We agreed to take shorter shifts and I went down below to try and rest. I tried to sleep, unsuccessfully, and I smelled ice. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t trust that it was possible to smell ice.

When we switched shifts we sat together for a few moments in the companionway, looking ahead into the fog. I squinted to focus, and gripped Luke’s arm. “Look, look!” Just 200 yards away a wall of white passed down the port side of the boat. Visibility was so poor we hadn’t spotted it until we were already passing it. A chunk of glacier the size of a hotel silently drifted back out of sight.

It was terrifying and magnificent. I’m just a girl from Michigan; this was hard for me to wrap my head around. We decided to stop on Newfoundland’s south coast the following morning and review our iceberg tactics.

The anticipation of crossing the ocean was the worst of it. It was mental preparation for ultimate disaster. An uninsured, borrowed, classic yawl in which I held huge emotional value, captained by two opposites: Luke, a dinghy racer and accomplished super sailor who thrives on speed and efficiency; and myself, the slowest coastal cruiser known to man who knew a thing or two about diesel engines and virtually nothing about sails, a green ocean sailor.

By the time we reached St Johns, Newfoundland, we had learned a lot about the boat, and even more about each other. We had done our studying. We’d read our books and had a thousand conversations with experienced sailors. We took every precaution. Information was everywhere, it was just up to us to decide on the validity of that information, to agree or disagree.

We had to make our own decisions based on our own abilities and our own boat, no one else’s. This is tricky.

The whole reason for sailing all the way to St Johns, Newfoundland, was so that we could sail the great circle route over the North Atlantic, the fastest possible crossing for that section of ocean. Although it is the shortest mileage, timing is tricky. Leave in June and there are icebergs everywhere; wait too long and the ice has gone but it’s hurricane season. You have two choices: mountains of water, or mountains of ice. We decided ice would be better as you can sail around ice… if you can see it. We kept a diligent lookout for the first 600 miles until we were well clear of the Labrador Current.

Violently ill for the first two nights, it took five days for my body to adjust to the swells and sleep patterns. Energy and motivation was restored after week one and Luke and I found our divine rhythm. We were in a water park along for the ride, fine-tuning the sails and the Hydrovane. Days would go by on the same tack with only the most minute of adjustments. Gales and torrential rain would pass by, stirring up the seas and making the simplest of tasks effectively impossible, only to be followed by hours spent floating upon a sea of mercury, rocking side to side in the leftover swells, completely becalmed.

It took 17 days to cross the ocean. Two days of headwinds, 15 days downwind, three days becalmed. We never saw waves over 15ft, or winds higher than 45 knots. We did see three icebergs and six cargo ships, over 102 watch changes. I kept waiting for it to get worse, to meet God in a 30ft wave, to be locked inside the cabin under bare poles. But it never got worse and I didn’t meet any gods. The only thing that locked us inside was rain. We considered ourselves extremely lucky.

Desireécame alive once out on the ocean, beam reaching in 35-40 knots of wind heavily reefed, the staysail set with the Hydrovane self-steering gear engaged, and she proved herself as a truly excellent ocean-going yacht.

However, in under 10 knots of wind the boat would start to wallow in the dying swell, and it took a full sail change using the big asymmetric and the mizzen staysail to get her moving again. We had a bombproof set of Hyde Sails and went through every possible sail combination several times. We tried goosewinged, Twizzlerigged (double genoa goosewinged), poled back asymmetric main, mizzen and mizzen staysail, sometimes when really windy just sailing on the staysail only. The inner forestay and staysail combination was essential for this boat and this trip. The Hydrovane was our best friend and our Mazu weather app prepared us for the gales.

Making landfall

On the 17th evening we flew by the legendary Bishop Rock and made landfall in the Isles of Scilly under moonlight. We dropped the hook in St Agnes under the stars. We drank our last two beers and watched the sunrise in the stillest of waters.

It was the greatest reward, and the greatest sense of accomplishment. After 88 days since leaving Michigan and 4,800 miles in total from ‘my house’ to ‘his house’, Luke and I had solidified our joint capabilities. We had short-cut years of married life getting to know each other’s ‘worst’ selves. In very close quarters, we were forced into endless physically and mentally uncomfortable scenarios. When we made it to the other side, I can honestly say I’d never felt so complete, so entirely connected to another person, so in tune with how I wanted to spend my life, my time, my money.

We believe that any decent coastal sailor is capable of crossing the Atlantic, it is truly simpler than many of the hazards that coastal sailing brings. I never expected to feel so relaxed in the middle of an ocean; I became most anxious when we closed in on land. The nervousness of actually going often forces you to over-prepare, and all those precautions stacked up make for an ultra-safe vessel. And once you understand your ability to cross an ocean, you can go anywhere.

We have agreed to sail Desireéback to my father in Michigan. Now it’s just a question of if we’re going to take the long way or the short way home.

The post A test of commitment: a young couple cross the North Atlantic from Michigan to Cornwall appeared first on Yachting World.

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trentjmahoneyuwrfeng200-blog · 7 years ago

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Turning Air Into Gold

“Turning Air Into Gold.”

By Trent J. Mahoney

“Was he your brother?”

It’s such a simple question; until only recently, I would have been able to produce a simple answer. Truthfully, that was the same question that had crossed my mind more than once this year. But now things were much different, it would be a travesty to plead ignorance and believe that they weren’t. How did it ever come to this? Christ, the first time I ever met him feels like only last week to me.

I can remember everything about that day, as if it were the most important day of my life.

Thunder split the sky; rain water poured down the street, and gushed into a nearby sewer drain like it too was trying to escape this dreaded town. I jumped over the turbulent gutter river, and ran to the front doors of the high school. Upon entering, to my joyous surprise, the high school lobby was as silent as the grave; a much-welcomed noise when compared to the typical high pitched hum of gossip and rumors. Then out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure, a divine figure, Jessie Staple’s figure. She had been my deepest desire, ever since I first laid eyes on her when I arrived in that shit-hole town, more commonly referred to as “Greenwood.” I did my best to look appealing; struggling to form a tremulous fabricated smile, and exhibit a pathetic wave. Unfortunately, Jessie had already spotted me and consequently made the deliberate motion to not look at me.

Heartbroken and full of teenage angst, as I walked to my locker, I had made up my idiotic mind; I was going to write the most beautiful love-note that a misunderstood outsider of a teenager ever did write to the girl of his dreams. I was the teenager that thought himself much smarter and infinitely cleverer than my fellow pupils; so, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t one of the cool kid’s or even that I wasn’t that much of an athlete. Obviously, once she read the note that I had already began formulating in my horribly misguided brain, she was going to see me for who I truly was and then consequently she would fall head over heels in love with me. Once I had retrieved my thought provoking homework, a “word find” for Spanish class, I walked hastily toward the nearest exit doors, when the growing sound of laughter became wretchedly more apparent to me.

Without breaking stride for even a broken heartbeat, I peered into the hallway perpendicular to me, so that I too could observe what was evidently very comical to a modest sized gaggle of football players. They were in their “nonchalant-passive-aggressive-ridicule” formation, honking and hissing at a boy of about my height; but still worlds shorter than the testosterone gang.

“Ask him again Derek!” one underling honked to the “mother goose,” trying to repress his annoying, deep laughter.

“Alright, just so we're sure we didn’t misunderstand you ‘buddy,’ what’s your name again?” the brutish leader inquired, with a disturbingly calm demeanor.

As I had started to avert my gaze, wanting nothing to do with the miss-fortune of a total stranger, something extraordinary caught my eye. A smile, not a “beak-ish” smile, which had been forged at the expense of another’s suffering. It was an innocent smile, like that of a child; a smile which held no lies or malice. Why is he smiling like that? I recall pondering; regrettably, the thought had come to me with a great sense of anger. Angry, as if it were the boy’s intention to make me feel rotten for caring more about my important problems, than his common high-school encounter with bullies. Disgusted with what I had seen, or perhaps with myself; I veered toward the men’s restroom which would provide me with sanctuary from the pecking of the football players, and allow me to walk home without constantly looking behind my shoulder for the ever so aggressive “flying-v” formation.

Before I could escape to the lavatory, I heard it. A loud and triumphant yawp, as if Walt Whitman himself were making an undeniable declaration from the very rooftops of the world.

“Iam’me Haffmain!!” boomed barbarically through the corridors of Greenwood High.

The broken English sounded strangely deliberate, and though I could no longer see the boy, there was no doubt in my mind that he had spoken those words with every ounce of his heart behind them.

But the boy’s glory was short lived, as it was smothered by the thunderous cackling of the football players.

“I Amy Half-man!” a heard one jest, in what sounded to me like a “Tarzan” impersonation.

An idiotic joke. Still, it caused the entire gaggle to burst into laughter, despite the fact that the boy had clearly meant “I am me, Hoffman.”

“Alright boy’s let’s leave the little pussy to his ‘golf practice,’ lord knows he is going to need it if he ever wants to make it to the women’s PGA. Besides we gotta pick up the girls in like, fifteen.” mother goose ordered.

His acolytes adoringly giggled at what seemed to me to be a totally random and strange joke to precede a serious demand. Puzzled, I nearly had failed to notice that the “flying-v” was headed my way. I quickened my pace, and slunk into the men’s restroom like a philosopher desperately clinging to shadows cast upon a cave wall, rather than see the light of day.

“I Amy Half-man.” Derek had repeated, pausing for a moment to laugh, and to finish constructing his next gift to mankind in the form of ingenious comedy.

“Half man, half cripple, half retard; one-hundred percent hilarious!” Derek exclaimed with great pride.

While I was shocked that someone would even refer to anything as having three halves, the rest of Derek’s loyal gaggle found it extremely brilliant. They all continued to laugh absurdly loud for almost twenty seconds straight. I could hear them basking in their own greatness and cleverness until they exited the lobby, and I’m sure they carried on laughing long after that.

Although my hands were clean, I washed them furiously in the sink anyway just to be sure that they were indeed, absolutely clean. I exited the bathroom confident that I had done what anyone else would do, and thus rationalizing in my selfish teenage mind that I was not at any fault. As I entered the lobby, my logical thinking was shattered by the faint sound of humming. It was the boy. “Iam’me.”

He didn’t so much walk as he did hobble, his right leg had a slight limp; yet if you were to look at his body moving collectively, he seemed to have a strange spring in his step. In fact, if I had not heard him speak just moments earlier, I wouldn’t have thought he was handicap at all. As he waddled toward the exit, I continued to unravel Derek’s joke, curiously inspecting the paradox that moved before my very eyes. He wielded an old golf club, it looked like an archaic “four-iron,” something, one could safely assume hadn’t been used for its intended purpose for many decades. Despite its homely appearance, the boy showcased it proudly, leaving it slung over his shoulder like a knight who was heroically resting his blade after he had slain a terrible dragon. When he realized someone had exited the bathroom he immediately stopped, and turned his head to meet my sullen gaze. To my surprise, and undeserved relief, there was not any contempt in his eyes; I could not sense a single trace of ill-will about him. When, without any reason, an enormous grin quickly erupted across his face, and he whimsically gave me a grand wave with his arm fully extended and his hand loosely flailing in the air as if it were struggling to stay attached to his wrist. I was so in shock that all I gave back was a stare of amazement; with my jaw trying to escape my mouth because it too held much disbelief. Then he turned to the exit; using his weapon to push open the door, the boy began to hum cheerfully again. The door shut behind him, and I instantly fell back to reality, realizing that the knucklehead was walking right into the tempest while holding a metal golf club! And though the rain had ceased, the lighting was still as violent as ever.

Before going after him, I hesitated, and questioned if the bastard had some kind of death wish, or if he actually was that clueless.

Miraculously, Iam’me had traveled a fair distance in what I was sure was only a matter of seconds. He was under a long line of maple trees nearly one-hundred yards away from the school; the trees, as I had come to understand, effectively acted as a divider between the soccer player’s turf and the football player’s territory. I walked slowly, and menacingly toward him; like a pissed off mother straight out of hell, who was willing to traverse the expanses of the universe to ensure her bastard of a son was chastised, and corrected. A loud blast of thunder echoed through the brisk Minnesota air.

“BWOOSH!” Iam’me imitated; while he swung his club wildly at some acorns that had fallen on the wet grass, knocking several into the soccer field. I could feel my face swelling with anger.

“Hey kid what--”

God had interrupted my objection with another blast of thunder.

“BWOOM!” he yelled happily, this time whacking a family of acorns into the football field.

“Hey you! What the hell is your problem, if football players saw you doing that you would become their bitch literally! And if they didn’t get you the lighting just might…” I reprimanded angrily, as I grabbed the club from behind him while he was mid-swing. The boy spun around excitedly, still holding the acorn launcher with one hand.

“Ehh Doo!!”

I became speechless and stepped back in shock, not due to amazement, but because of fear. It’s not possible… how did he know my name was Drew? I frantically thought to myself.

“Doo o’gay?” the psychic inquired.

I let out a harrowing sigh of relief; Iam’me had meant “you,” there was no such thing as psychics, and most importantly I was still the master of my own future.

“I’m fine… what are you doing?” I restated, this time with less force.

He grinned and proclaimed “Erryting deserbs suntine.” The smile was distinctly present even as he spoke.

The brilliance of his justification almost escaped my narrow mind, but as I watched him begin to imitate thunder again, what he was doing became very clear. He was liberating the acorns from their parent’s chocking shadows, placing them in a brave new world of possibilities, his world; because in Iam’me’s world even acorns had hopes, even acorns deserved to chase their dreams. It was like he was turning air into gold. Out of the ever-dark sepulcher that is the real, unsympathetic world; he was able to easily create light, and more amazing yet, he did it with nothing but a rusty golf club. I was about to ask Iam’me of his real name, when he produced an unbalanced golf swing, which sent a few acorns on an unintended route up into the maples.

The robin was still falling to the ground when I heard Iam’me let out a terrible cry of agony; ignoring the handicap of his gimp leg, Iam’me “ran” as fast as he could to aid the creature. But it was already too late. It began to rain again. As I slowly and cautiously walked to his side I could hear him sobbing; and in-between the tears I could hear him calling out to the already dead bird. Whimpering softly to it “No” and “comb ack” like an autistic child who was learning of death for the first time. He cradled the bird gently in his hands, and remained kneeling in the mud despite the rain. I’m sure he had forgotten all about the rain and all about me as well; to Iam’me there was only the bird now. If I had not said anything, I know he would have stayed in the mud and cried until he was as dead as that bird.

“It’s dead, there’s nothing you can do…” I said apathetically.

He peered just over his shoulder; remembering that I existed, he yelled “DOO WRUNG” loudly as he wiped his nose with his soaked sweatshirt sleeve.

Then he rose to his feet and started to savagely strike the ground, tears still racing down his cheeks, he ineffectively struggled to use his club as a shovel. On any other day, if someone were to tell me that you can bury a dead bird in the ground and someday it will grow into a “bird tree,” I would have laughed and called that person insane. But not that day. Logic, reason, mathematics, everything that I so fervently had put my faith into; none of it mattered to me while I was helping him “plant” the bird in the ground.

I decided to walk him home that night; it would have felt wrong to just let Iam’me wander aimlessly in the storm for hours. Although neither of us spoke a word the entire time, it was obvious that he was glad to have someone to share the journey with. He stopped at a small dilapidated hut of a house; the front lawn was extremely overgrown, and smack dab in the middle stood a wooden sign that conveyed a macabre message. Much of the sign’s paint had washed away; still, one phrase was horribly clear in my eyes. “Foster Home.” Lightning had forked across the sky once again, as if god were trying to dramatize the horror of it all. A great amount of guilt rushed over me, it wasn’t even a month earlier that I had been complaining to my parents about how crappy our new house in the suburbs was.

“Wat’s yoo’r name?” Iam’me asked me in what must have been his best attempt at talking like everyone else.

“Drew.” I stated plainly.

“Doo” he reiterated, giggling happily to himself.

Then he raised a fist and his golf club both high above his head; just as triumphant and cheerful as always, he proclaimed “Iam’me!!!” Then he turned away from me, and happily strode into the run-down house humming a different, but still whimsical tune.

Relieved to be alone, I walked quickly down the sidewalk; as I passed by nice house after nice house, I demanded myself to forget about Iam’me. After all, I had to write the world’s greatest love note tonight; and I had felt strongly that I had already wasted far too much time helping other people with their problems.

It hadn’t taken me very long to compose the disastrous love letter; but it had taken me almost an entire week to work up the courage to give it to her. Of course, I didn’t personally give it to her; I had decided to give it to her through the ever so romantic gesture of slipping it into her locker. Looking back at it now I find the whole locker affair quite humorous, but back then I had thought it the most dreadful thing I could ever experience. Had I noticed Jessie Staples was already in route to her locker, I would not have even attempted to shove that small book through the slits in her locker. But I didn’t, and so I did. She had walked right behind me, and watched me struggle for god knows how long. I finally realized her presence when she cleared her throat; she must have thought my pathetic struggle was not even worthy of validating with words. However, the horror that had struck me in that moment had made even the most basic of conscious actions impossible; when I tried to turn around to meet her gaze, I gracefully tripped myself and fell flat on the hard school floor. After that I wanted nothing more than to escape; despite all my effort that would be the closest I ever got to Jessie Staples. While I rose to my feet I didn’t even dare to look at her judging figure, being so embarrassingly close. So I simply said nothing, left the note haphazardly sticking out of the locker, and walked quickly toward the lobby exit with my head down in a futile attempt to hide my shame from everything and everyone.

The cool March sun hung lazily in the western sky, and to my great disbelief Iam’me was playing golf with acorns under the “boarder” trees once again. I had been avoiding him for that entire week at school, because I had thought that there was no way Jessie Staples would ever date the guy who was friends with the mentally handicapped kid at school. A belief that seemed pointless after the epic tragedy that had just occurred; but still I did not want to see Iam’me, so I darted behind the nearest car in the parking lot and stayed hidden from his sight. The sun had nearly set when Iam’me finally had finished spreading acorns evenly amongst the football and soccer field. He surveyed the fields for a final moment, immensely proud of the good he had done; then he triumphantly rested the golf club on his shoulder and began his long walk home.

Just as I had arisen from my hiding place, a boisterous uproar came stomping out of high school. It was mother goose and his goslings; I had turned away and started to walk toward the soccer fields, but it was already much too late. The first peon out the doors had spotted me trying to casually escape.

“Derek! There’s that kid!! He’s headed for the soccer fields!” He snorted franticly.

Over the large squadron of geese that poured out of the door’s, I unmistakably heard mother goose demand “After him!!” Indeed, I had started to run the second I heard the first one refer to me as “that kid;” but even on my best day I wouldn’t have had a shot of escaping Derek’s minions.

I had made it just inches short of the sidewalk when I was tackled to the ground by a goose in a letterman jacket. The sidewalk ran parallel to a busy interstate, but despite the fact that I was clearly being held down by four steroid enthusiasts, not one car had stopped to object for the entire duration. The threat was short, but Derek’s message was vividly clear.

“Stay away from Jessie, ‘Romeo;’ I own her. And if your scrawny ass ever try’s to steal what belongs to me again… I’ll force you to eat your own finger.” He said, calmly hovering inches above my own face.

He pulled his face away from mine and stood up; for a brief second, I had thought that I had gotten away with nothing but a morose warning. But when Derek had begun to laugh; I could tell by the delight in that twisted laugh, that I wasn’t going to escape the gaggle unscathed.

“But just for kicks, and to make sure you don’t forget my promise to you; I’m afraid you’re going to have to eat dirt.” He hissed calmly.

Then the rest of the mob laughed excitedly as Derek grabbed a large hunk of dry dirt and spat on it. A fifth accomplice of his then held my nose shut and forced my mouth open, leaving me totally defenseless against the germ riddled dirt-pie. Laughing joyfully at my suffering, the other remaining players without a role had joined in; imitating their leader they kicked dirt in my face and hair until they had felt like big men. Finally, god and the rest of the bullies had had their fill, and left while laughing without a sliver of regret or empathy amongst them. As I began to rid my mouth of the grotesque mix between saliva and dirt, I reluctantly picked myself up from the ground. I stared at the passing cars, as if to judge the interstate as a collective entity which was guilty of neglect. Then, much to my dismay, I spotted Iam’me staring at me with a look of great concern from across the interstate.

“Doo!!” He cried, over the hum of the interstate.

I had quickly turned away, afraid that if he saw me looking distressed, he would undoubtedly do something irrational; but Iam’me was graced with irrationality since the day he first arrived on this planet. The cars, with defiant horns like brass trumpets, began to complain in absolute unison. I was already furious, and he hadn’t even made it safely across half the unwelcoming gauntlet of racing metal and distorted obscenities. I clinched my eyes together tightly, momentarily accepting that there was an idiot on the interstate who was moments away from death. I waited for the inevitable “screech-crash” of death to reach my ears; when suddenly I felt a pair of arms embrace me, and two hands quickly followed, which rested at the center of my ribcage.

“Doo o’tay?” Iam’me whispered.

Realizing the tremendous audacity of Iam’me, who was willing to risk even life just to confirm that I was alright; I began to cry. Ashamed that I had just moments ago came to accept the death of my superior so easily; I let the tears roll down my face effortlessly to wash away the mud and dust. For the first time in a long time, on that memorable day, I cried for nearly ten minutes in the presence of another human. All the while Iam’me sang softly to me his own rendition of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline;” a performance, which had a power to soothe that was so pure, and so effective, that I never have found a word in existence that could capture its beauty in totality.

From that moment on, for the rest of what remained of the ever-diminishing school year, me and Iam’me were best friends. In actuality, he may have been my only friend my entire life. However, as much as I loved Iam’me and the beautiful simplicity of his way, I had thought as a teenager that it would have never been enough for me; and so, I did what most smart people did and went to college.

Iam’me had been shipped away to a “care home” in Chicago upon turning eighteen in the summer, while I headed to Boston in the Fall. Only god knows how sad he must have been without me or the maple trees; or really without everything that was so familiar to him, that he loved so much. I had made a conscious lie the last time I had seen him; for I had told him that I would call him as often as I found time to while I was away at school.

The first time I had heard of Iam’me since he left for Chicago, was from a young lady who worked with death.

She was a mortician who had called me while I was at your typical college party, she was asking for me to come verify the body of “Isaac Hoffman.” and stated coldly that I was his only listed emergency contact.

The people at the party may not have been able to notice. But as I drank, and stood puzzled, unraveling the mysterious request, the truth had hit me. Like a giant acorn bullet hit me right between the eyes.

“What happened?!!?” I inquired hysterically.

“I’m not allowed to tell you that sir… not unless your related to him… Was he your brother?” She boringly insinuated.

“Yeah, I am his brother…” I lied after much hesitation.

The mortician without much human emotion at all proceeded to describe to me the fate of my hero. Iam’me had found a group of homeless people and had tirelessly shuttled food and water from his home on the north end, to their slum on east Cicero St; almost a distance of twelve miles, that he traversed for nearly three days straight. He had collapsed to the ground long before he died, due to his gimp leg, but even unable to walk the mortician identified a great amount of "wear and tear" on his jeans, which according to her indicated that when he could no longer walk he had begun to crawl toward the needy homeless until he died of exhaustion. I left the party and bought the first ticket to Chicago, during the flight a million different thoughts raced through my mind; as the other passengers slept, blissfully unaware that the world had lost one of its kindest inhabitants.

They'll be calling it suicide... What a joke, Iam'me couldn't knowingly do harm to anything or anyone, least of all himself... He didn't commit suicide; no, it was this world that killed him. It's so strange that now I can't help but think Derek had been right on one thing about Iam'me... He was one-hundred and fifty percent of a human.. fifty percent saint, fifty percent hero, fifty percent was devouted to everyone else... All while he never comprimised any aspect of who he was for second... It only makes sense that it would be inherently impossible for such a selfless individual as Iam'me to exist for long in such an unforgiving and greedy world... Damn, I wish I would have told him that... told him about how he made my world infinitely brighter just by existing..

I land in Chicago, and walk immediately to the appropriate morgue. I looked at his cold dead body, the sight of seeing him so still and incapable of laughter makes me feel ill, and I vomit without warning all over the glassy floor of death. I gather his belongs from the mortician, including his rusty club, then quickly stop by the care home to pick up only a small box of raggy clothing. Done with business, finally I sit alone in my hotel room, the sound of honking and drunken laughter making it impossible to sleep.

In the morning I arrive at the civil burial to see much to my amazement, an old man present, he is the only other attendant at the funeral. I walk beside him, and he friendly greets me, in response I am only able to wave. I place the golf club on the closed, homely coffin, and say good bye to the greatest person I’m sure I’ll ever know. As the workers erase all knowledge of him from the world; I suddenly am reminded of the day with the robin. As I think about planting the "bird tree" with Iam'me, the corners of my mouth start to migrate towards my ears as if driven by some irresistible force. I realize that perhaps for the first time I could remember, I was smiling uncontrollably; without an ounce of dishonesty, or any regard for who might see it.

"Was he your brother?" the old man asked in a raspy voice.

I turn to get a second look at him, upon inspecting him further I deduce he is homeless; undoubtedly, he had known Iam'me.

"Yeah... Yeah he was my brother," I responded with confidence.

"Ha, I see the family resemblance."

"Oh?" I question, now very intrigued.

"Yeah." He laughs.

"Yeah, you smile just like him."

The End.

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