#middle teens being pushed out of YA

[nicollekidman]

god the thing with books is that there is room for literally everyone in every age group with every taste from every walk of life and every preference!!!!! it's literature!!!! a foundational part of humanity!! but publishing trends are squeezing kids/teens out of genres and markets created specifically for them to chase the childadult contingent, while at the same time, romance/erotica (which is healthy, fun, has always existed) is being marketed aesthetically similarly and to the same audience of what used to be YA. so now there's a very weird collapse that is simultaneously putting adult romance in front of children, squashing teen stories, and sanitizing actual erotica. it is VERY weird but it is not an issue with authors suddenly being bad or women suddenly being stupid perverts, it's a direct result of the publishing industry and how books are being sold/published/marketed

[amorchai]

𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ─ s.h

pairing(s): steve harrington x reader

summary: four times you were oblivious to steve’s signs, and the one time you weren’t.

word count: 3805

warnings/tags: steve being a big ol' softie in love, signs being shut down, some feelings of embarrassment [ on steve's side ], eddie being oblivious and robin trying to help steve. fluff fluff fluff

𝐈. the first time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when steve offered you the passenger seat.

it was the middle of summer, sweltering heat along hawkin’s beach and steve had thoroughly enjoyed the day of watching you interact with the kids. his eyes delicately scanning along your sunglass-covered face as you grin and laugh alongside lucas, playing paddled tennis against robin and max by the edge of the water.

the whole time everyone was there, steve was gawking, not listening to a word anyone had to say as he tries to convince himself to do something about the unbearable crush he had on you. “you gotta do something about this,” mike interrupts, cutting off dustin mid-sentence as steve’s heads currently as high as the clouds – watching an angel.

“what do you mean, wheeler?” asks steve, not turning in his position. eddie was unfocused, tongue sticking out his mouth as he tried to effortlessly roll his cigarette, eleven watching him curiously before replying for her boyfriend, “about your crush on y/n.”

he tried to shrug it off, an ‘i don’t know what you mean’ causing the whole group to grunt in reply. everyone knew he was lying, and steve knew they knew. but his love for you came crashing one day and everything made sense to steve all of a sudden, you were the one for him.

steve got into his head quite easily, but nothing compared to when he noticed you in that way. he couldn’t imagine anyone else in that light but you, this whole idea if he was your boyfriend that he had to mentally slap himself – he wasn’t your boyfriend. because he hadn’t gained the confidence to ask you out.

but steve thought that day was different, that he was ready. robin sat down next to him while you sat next to eddie, resting your head tiredly to his shoulder, “i have a plan,” steve had whispered to his best friend.

the group wave nancy and the young teens off, watching as jonathan holds her hand and the kids all chatter, collecting their bikes to ride home from a chilled day at the beach, high off the fun of it all. steve swings the keyring of his car keys around his finger, with purpose, while walking to his car.

you and robin were a few meters behind, giggling and making fun of the way eddie previously fell in the water – hair blocking his eyes while he looked like a kicked puppy. and steve chuckles along, opening the passenger door and turning towards you, here goes nothing.

“y/n-” steve starts but is immediately cut off with a ‘humph’ as eddie jumps onto his back, hands on either of steve’s shoulders with a heavy push and loud howl of laughter upon successfully scaring steve.

“got ya, harrington! god, you should’ve looked at your face! classic!” steve could smell the smoke off his breath, watching eddie who stands in front of him now, glaring while the brunette was far too close to the front passenger seat than steve would like.

you and robin had stopped talking, now watching the interaction unfold with contained grins. “can i sit here or not?” asks eddie, oblivious to the fact that steve was sweating to ask you. unlike everyone else had shared knowing glances the whole day, eddie munson was the complete opposite.

steve stares over at you, ignoring robin’s widely amused eyes and raised eyebrows waiting on her best friend to answer and cover his tracks. but he just sighs, turning back to eddie and nodding defeatedly, “yeah fine, move it.”

“well, thank you for opening the door for me princess, keep doing stuff like this i might get the wrong idea,” steve was unsure how eddie couldn’t see the steam across steve’s face, nearby missing eddie’s clunky foot while slamming the door shut.

once getting in the car, robin leans over to slap the back of eddie’s head, having ruined steve’s plan. while it wasn’t full proof or obvious, robin still felt for steve. the boy has his head against the steering wheel, contemplating his decisions while eddie curses at robin.

“are you okay?” you ask steve in the oh-so-sweet voice you have, the very one he fell in love with and steve sits up, staring at the beach from his parking space, “don’t you just hate it that there’s not an extra seat up here?” asks steve.

eddie pulls a face at steve while robin only shakes her head knowingly at the stream of tries, while you reply, “i mean yeah? they used to have an extra seat in some cars last decade but i’m not sure it was safe, steve.” and steve can only blush while starting his car.

before steve can ask if you’re okay to be dropped off last, in his final attempt, eddie – now the vein of steve’s life – perks up in the seat that was supposed to be yours, “harrington! could you drop me last? i need to stop off at the record place, the new mötley crüe record is finally out.”

steve refrains slamming his head against the steering wheel once more to save an upcoming concussion.

𝐈𝐈. the second time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he asked you to the movies.

one of the hundreds of reasons steve loved you was the fact you worked in a bakery. an added bonus that it was across the street from family video where he worked. it meant you’d spend your lunch break bringing over spare pastries and heavenly good hot chocolate for him and robin.

it was the best part of steve’s shifts, spent behind counter while robin stocked. or vice versa. it was a boring job, but pays well for working with his best friend. so, robin sits on the dirty hard floor by the comedy section, marking off and updating the comedies of the month while steve doodles on the company notebook, not a customer in sight for the monday afternoon.

a large black inked line covers the page when steve looks up, his hand losing itself when he catches the sight of you – paper bag in one hand, a tray of hot drinks in the other, and a hop in your step. steve swoons utterly and entirely, the smile on your face while opening the shop door enough to make steve harrington’s knees weak and heart thumping in his chest.

“y/n,” he whispers, quietly and pathetically when the bell chimes, the door closing behind you. robin’s head peaks from the side of the aisle, waving at you from her spot, “hey y/n, how’s your day been?”

you wave back at her, before your eyes quickly find steve’s once more – shy grins as you walk to the counter he sits at – placing the paper bag filled with pastries upon it. you were so sweet, how did steve find someone so sweet? how could he not love someone so very sweet?

his inner thoughts cut off, “good! mr. barclay came in today, gave me a new movie recommendation.” you are referring to the sweet old man who comes into the bakery most days, a regular customer who used to shop and read the newspaper with his wife. until one day, it was just him there forward.

“oh yeah? something we’ll have here?” steve asks you, from his spot, eyes simply gleaming. you start unpacking the bakery food while replying, “no, it’s just came into the cinema! so i’ll need to go see it sometime, it sounds really good!”

steve immediately notices his pastry you pick out for him each time, you know him too well. a chocolate croissant and blueberry muffins to pair with. “robin, i brought you both food!” you pipe up, trying to look back to the light brunette who’s lost in the length of movies.

“i’ll be right there!” robin speaks from her spot, hoping steve catches on to her absence.

perfect! steve thinks, now’s my chance!

“say… do you need some company? i’d be happy to go see the movie with you, we could go tonight?” steve tries to sound cool, like most of his player high-school years aren’t completely out the window and he’s embarrassed at how little he’s dated in years after nancy freaking wheeler.

your eyes shine at his, sliding the cup of chocolate towards him as well as the warm pastries you heated up especially for them and steve’s nervous for you to reply.

“i’d love that, stevie!” he huffs a sigh of relief upon your confirmation, it was a date! he was going to take you on a date to the movies tonight, steve’s mind swings with possibility during a beat of silence. what he’d wear, what he’d bring you, snacks he’d buy you both, holding your hand, walking you to your front door.

it doesn’t last too long, as robin stands from her spot, dusting off her brown plaid trousers from the dark dust and you turn to her, “are you free tonight, robs? i should ask eddie and nancy too! i would ask the kids, but it sounded too cheesy for the kids taste? i could phone dustin and see if they would.”

steve’s heart plummets, and robin notices too quickly as she paces towards them, before she could claim she’s not free in order to score steve time with you alone, you’re leaning over steve to grip their work phone and dial the kid’s number.

picking up the chocolate croissant, steve doesn’t even care if there’s a few dotted marks of chocolate around his top lip – sadly eating his food while watching you enthuse of steve’s plan. robin pats his shoulder, sipping her own chocolate drink with sympathy written across her face.

at least steve would still get to spend time with you, even if it wasn’t alone, on what he could’ve made a date.

another time, steve thinks.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. the third time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he offered you his jacket.

a night with everyone had been spent outside eddie’s trailer, or as steve was now calling him – eddie ‘the ruiner’ munson ever since he wedged himself in the seat between you and steve on the cinema night. claiming that he wanted to sit next to you, because you both liked salted popcorn unlike steve’s ‘horrific’ comment on his preference of sweet popcorn.

as the night went on and the sky went a pitch black, despite the summer season the air was cold and breezy throughout hawkin’s. everyone sat in chairs around the fire, steve lucky enough to actually be sat next to you and not listening to munson’s loud chewing.

poor eddie, robin would say again, if she knew what steve was thinking. the guy never did anything wrong, just got in the way of steve’s advances towards you. and sure, maybe they weren’t that obvious, maybe they were stupid ways to show his interest rather than outwardly admitting his feelings and ensuring that when he’s asking you out that it’s a date for just you and him.

not the entirety of his friend group.

you had shivered beneath your sweatshirt, not enough to keep the cold at bay. steve turns away from watching lucas and dustin dummy fight, loud howling laughter overcutting the rock music playing from eddie’s record player in his bedroom – open window allowing the music to travel.

you were beyond beautiful to him. the whole night he had listened to each of the stories you told holding such interest, and even when someone else was telling a story – steve would watch you. your expressions and reactions much more swooning than any story about mike accidentally stealing a bag of candy last week without knowing.

to everyone but you, it was beyond obvious. steve was head over heels for you, and eddie had even played the song ‘head over heels’ by tears for fears to poke fun but the joke backfired on the fact that he owned a tears for fears record.

you were listening to robin and nancy converse, sinking into your seat comfortably while trying to undercut how cold you were that you didn’t notice steve staring once more. watching as you rub your sweatshirt-covered arms for some heat or close your eyes tiredly every so often.

“do you want my jacket?” he leaned over to whisper to you, your dull and achy eyes opening to turn to your best friend – who’s breath is fanning your face, sending an ounce of warmth across you.

“what?” you ask him, a bit out of it and confused at how intense steve stares at you, shivers running across your body you’re not sure if it’s the effects of the temperature or of steve. he chuckles, warmly and kindly, “you’re freezing, i can tell. do you want to wear my jacket?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “but what about you?” you asked, everyone tuning into the conversation with knowing glances and expectant smirks. mike kicking steve’s foot teasingly from his other side, steve kicking him right back.

“i’m fine don’t worry about me, stevie. want to make sure you’re warm too,” you reply and steve wants to crawl into a hole and scream at how unaware you are, or at how stupid he’s being in sending shitty signs.

steve starts to shuffle his jacket off his shoulders, assuring you, “i have a sweater on, trust me, i’ll be fine. here, you can borrow it.” he extends his offer, bomber jacket in his hand and lifted towards you and you stare longingly at the jacket before back up at steve, worried, “no, steve. it’s okay, i swear.”

he’s defeated once again, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by continuously asking but steve’s unsure how to make his love known when they’re not small loving gestures like this – trying to keep you warm on a cold hawkin’s night.

“i’m freezing over here, stevie,” max cuts in, teasing him while the other kids snicker beside her. steve tears his glance from you and to the redhead, wearing a large smirk and gleaming eyes that steve would complain about later.

“shut it, mayfield.”

but steve chucks the jacket towards max, ignoring the hushed giggles and sympathetic stares as he tries to think about how he could escape this situation, and how he’d go about it next time – maybe when he isn’t in the same space as all his friends but a moment he catches you alone.

he’s willing to try again.

𝐈𝐕. the fourth time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he was blatantly obvious.

“you think it would be weird if you became more than friends with your best friend?” steve had asked into the quiet room, allowing you to easily hear from under his arm. a movie night was in order when robin was out of town, steve had spent lunch with you alone and mustered up the courage to a ‘totally casual not at all terrifying’ movie night where he could try to show you he loved you again.

he immediately regrets his words, way to be subtle harrington, steve thought. he fears he came across too forward and might scare you off from the idea of dating steve harrington, your best friend.

‘some kind of wonderful’ plays on his living-room television, a new friends to lovers movie that steve purposely picked out the romcom section in tune for tonight. he was a little worried, incase you felt overwhelmed by it all and it might affect your friendship that steve was desperate to make something more.

you take another handful of the bowl of salted popcorn sitting atop steve’s lap, and steve looks down to you when you begin to reply, your eyebrows are furrowed but you look far from offended or scared by his comment, “you’re my best friend, steve?”

both of you knew he was, and had been for the past few years of previously fighting inter-dimensional monsters in order to save hawkin’s and their own lives. it was hard not to be when steve was one to protect you from danger, or when you cleaned him up every time he was knocked around pretty bad.

you were both there for each other, not knowing whether it was friendly or something more.

“i wouldn’t find it weird,” steve’s blatant in his reply, you could probably hear his thumping heart, his head feels light-headed from his comment as he swoons and debates over what you might respond. god, he hoped you understood what he was getting at.

your eyebrows relax, eyes still scanning the artificial screen before humming, leaning back into steve’s side. your arms tighten him in a squeeze around his waist and follow the plot of the movie, head against his chest.

you hummed. that’s it. not a thought into what he just said as you focus on the movie ahead, he knew it wasn’t intentional of you and gets defeated once more – if he’s blatantly obvious what more could he do?

steve’s head lobs against the back of his couch, out of your eyeline while he holds in a groan. shot down once again. steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. the white ceiling posing as much more interesting than the tv screen as the pair of friends finally get together, steve was far too jealous of the characters to look.

he was willing to try one more time in an attempt to make a move.

𝐕. the one time you were not oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he wasn’t trying.

steve had nearly given up on trying. his next option was to tell you he loved you and that’s that. if you reciprocated then that was amazing, but steve feared for his found friendship with you – he wasn’t sure he was willing to risk that.

you were aware of steve’s closing ‘move’. his all-time move had been discussions around girls at school, you overheard during gym – watching as steve excels at track performance – as girls whisper to one another ‘steve did his move last night, can you believe it?’

you’d also heard steve tell his friends, he’d told robin of it before while you were around – steve thinking you were listening to nancy’s discussion. or when he had advised eddie of his move when eddie scored a date, that it ‘never failed’ as his closing date routine.

so when steve walked you to your door after dropping you off from a night at his, the last stop after eleven’s, you were unaware that steve was contemplating whether to tell you he loved you or not.

it was running around steve’s head, this could be the moment that made or broke your relationship with him. depending on how you felt. steve was too in his head, debating with his inner thoughts.

you unlocked the door before turning to steve, either of you facing one another and you could tell steve’s head was elsewhere. “steve,” you assure, breaking him from his reverie – his eyes go wide and glance at you when you continue, “thank you for tonight.”

all thoughts leave his head, “oh, yeah-yeah, of course. thank you for coming, y/n.” before you knew it, steve’s arm was stretched beside you, his hand landed on the wall behind you. almost closing you in, an attempt to continue the conversation.

however, before steve can start, you’re gasping loudly. the sight of steve’s arm beside you and his eyes staring down at yours making your head feel woozy and overwhelmed, “steve!” you gasp again.

your best friend’s eyebrows are furrowed, utterly confused by your reaction when he hadn’t even said anything. “what’s wrong?” he asks, lips parted in an attempt to form more words, however, all more sentences fade him when he watches how shocked you are.

“your move!”

steve’s head lobs forward, ushering you to continue as a feeling quite similar to mortified seeps through his veins. “that’s what you do on the girls you date! the move! why are you doing that?” you ask him, he could tell you were embarrassed yourself – feet shuffling as you awaited his answer.

steve’s whole face feels warm and he’s sure despite the dark night – you could see the entirety of his red face as embarrassment settles into the pit of his stomach.

“that’s what you noticed? you noticed this lame move?” steve’s loud and amused by the fact before admitting his love for you – you notice the uncool move he used to pull on dates. not the offer of his passenger seat all the way to him blatantly stating he wouldn’t mind being more than friends.

he never expected to pull that move, you meant more to him than the lame end-of-date attempt he used to try on girls he liked. because it was you, and you were much more to him.

steve was unequivocally in love with you, and he hadn’t been so in love before. so why would he try his odd hand pose in order to scoop you up and swoon you when he could offer a jacket or blatantly ask you out instead.

“what do you mean?” you ask steve, unsure of what he’s getting at. as if there was more to it than his old school move. he chuckles, shuffling so his arm is back by his side, but now steve has moved a step closer to you that the brown hazel in his eyes are more apparent, shining down at you.

“honey, i’ve been try to tell you for months now how much i’m in love with you.” your mouth gapes, the corners threatening to pull upwards in a smile as you choke, “w-what?” your hand settles on his chest, stepping closer to him.

and by your reaction steve is less scared, you’re not running down the street or slamming the door on his face – only moving closer and smiling up at him. and steve only falls in love more in that moment, “you love me?”

steve eyes scan your face after your question, and you watch as they do, so delicate and sweet like the steve you have always known but now here he is, confessing that he loves you and it’s all tying together and the possibilities seem endless all of a sudden.

“aw, c’mere already,” steve states, breaking the small gap between you both as a kiss settles to your lips. his hand is at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as he bids not to let you go. your hands reach up to his face, in disbelief you’re kissing steve harrington, your best friend, your touch to his cheeks brings you back to earth.

you weren’t so oblivious anymore, steve thought, glad the whole ordeal’s over as he smiles against your lips, never wanting to pull away.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[thesassypadawan]

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it!  Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Six

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: Memories of Life and Death

Summary: Everyone says the wrong thing, and (Y/N)'s mental health pays the price.

            (Y/N) closed their eyes and put their hands over their ears as Angel’s show-and-tell video played. It was, of course, nothing short of one of his acting scenes with more of him than (Y/N) ever wanted or needed to see.

            “Ya know, this performance won me a ‘Sex-x-x-i’ award,” said Angel proudly.

            “It’s, uh, very…honest?” Charlie averted her face.

            “Ew,” said Vaggie. “Okay, enough of that! Angel, what the fuck?”

            “What? You said it was Show n’ Tell day!” said Angel. “I’m showin’ you my best film, and I’m tellin’ you that it scored me a win over that bitch, Tiffany Titfucker.”

            “Ya know, that’s not a very convincing interrogation scene,” said Husk from the bar as he cleaned glasses.

            “Alright, dickhead, what makes you think you have any right to insult my work to my fuckin’ face?” said Angel.

            “You’re really gonna sit there and act like these scripts ain’t hot garbage?” said Husk, raising a brow.

            “Fuck you,” said Angel. “This is classy art!” He pointed at the screen on an incredibly inappropriate scene.

            Pentious covered his eyes with his head flaps, and Niffty grinned happily as she watched.

            “That’s bullshit,” said Husk. “You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Angel rolled his eyes, and Husk decided to make a point. “That one.” He pointed at Pentious. “That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep. Princess is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone else’s problems ‘cept her own.”

            “What? No, I—Pfft, no, no,” denied Charlie nervously.

            Husk just continued on to Vaggie. “This one judges everyone and everything because she hates herself.”

            “Aargh!” Vaggie hated how accurate it was.

            “That one.” Husk moved on to (Y/N), whose flowers flinched nervously. “Is sick and tired of being thought of as some innocent kid by everyone here and might go crazy if anyone tries to put that role onto them.”

            (Y/N) smiled sheepishly. Unfortunately, they really did feel like that.

            “And Niffty.” Husk made a face. “You don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”

            Angel cackled. “You weren’t kidding. Haha, wow! Kitten’s got claws! Meow~” He grabbed Husk’s face teasingly.

            “And you!” Husk pushed Angel back. “Don’t get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.”

            “Oh, me? Fake?” challenged Angel. “Wow. I had no idea. Guess that’s why I’m an actor. Dumbass. And—” His phone went off, and Angel’s face fell before he grabbed it. “Hold that thought.” He walked a few paces away. “Hello? Uh, yeah, I’m-I’m…” His entire attitude had changed, growing nervous and hesitant, completely unlike the usual Angel Dust the hotel dealt with. “No, no, I just, I—No, I’m not, but, uh, yeah…I’ll be right there.”

            He turned off his phone and looked back at the group. (Y/N) furrowed their brow in concern as they saw a familiarly fake smile spread across his face. They had worn that smile themself. It had weighed more than a thousand tons on their shoulders.

            “Well, uh, looks like Val needs me for an, uh, emergency shoot,” said Angel, trying to seem excited and eager.

            “Uhuh, sure,” said Husk, seeing through it.

            “You know what?” snapped Angel. “Fuck you! I don’t give a shit what a drunk ass bartender thinks a’ me! So why don’t you just crawl back to whatever cave you came out of, porn critic.” He gave Husk the middle finger and walked towards the door.

            “Angel, you can’t leave yet!” said Charlie. “We haven’t finished our exercises for the day.”

            “I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” said Angel.

            I don’t think he can say no to Valentino, thought (Y/N), frowning.

            They knew Angel had a contract with Valentino, and they saw the exhaustion in him whenever he returned to the hotel. They knew that if he could, Angel would rest more often. But he couldn’t. And (Y/N) really wished they could do something about it. After all, if there was one thing they despised more than anything else in this whole Hell and Heaven and Earth and everything, it was those that took advantage of others. The very thought summoned a murderous rage (Y/N).

            They knew what it felt like to be used and abused.

            The roses on (Y/N)’s head quivered and wilted as they felt themself on the verge of really, truly remembering (reliving) what they had gone through in life, and (Y/N)’s chest tightened.

            “There isn’t much time left for the hotel to prove itself,” said Charlie, her words drawing (Y/N) out of their mind successfully.

            “Dollface, it’s my job,” said Angel forcefully. “I know you want to fix everything, but unless you can fix my boss, there’s nothing you can do.” He slammed the door shut and was gone.

            “Uuuuugh, why is this so haaaard?” groaned Charlie, curling up in front of the door. “What am I doing wrong?”

            “I don’t think Valentino wants Angel to be redeemed, even if it’s possible,” said (Y/N), frowning.

            “But I do,” said Charlie. “And I really believe in him! But he always has to go to work and can never really commit…What do I do?”

            “Well, I mean, you’re the princess of Hell,” said Vaggie.

            “So?” said Charlie.

            “So, you don’t really use the power that comes with that, which I love about you, but maybe you can…I don’t know, command a little more authority?” suggested Vaggie, smiling encouragingly.

            “But that’s so mean!” said Charlie.

            “I don’t know much about the Vees, but I’m sure they’d deserve it,” said (Y/N), and Husk nodded in firm agreement.

            “It’s not mean, exactly,” said Vaggie, trying to get through to Charlie in a way she’d understand. “It’s, uh, aggressive kindness!”

            Wow. (Y/N) and Husk looked at each other, unimpressed by that “persuasion.”

            “Okay!” Charlie brightened, apparently having been convinced by the idea of “aggressive kindness.” “I could be so aggressively kind to Angel’s boss that I convince to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”

            “Sure, whatever gets you there, babe,” said Vaggie, smiling at Charlie as she walked out the door happily.

            “Is killing Overlords not on the table?” murmured (Y/N).

            “No,” said Husk. “At least, not for you.”

            “Fine, fine. I’ll do it another time,” said (Y/N).

            Husk shrugged. “As long as you know you’ll win, go for it.” He didn’t care if Valentino got what was coming to him.

            “Do not encourage them to kill people!” said Vaggie.

            “It’s not people. It would be Valentino,” said Husk, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

            Vaggie sighed, but she couldn’t disagree.

l

            When Angel returned, (Y/N)’s anger returned full force. He was clearly exhausted and uncomfortable, and whatever he had to film, it was long and, possibly (likely), painful.

            “Eugh, I need a drink,” said Angel, slumping across the bar counter. “The hardest you can make.”

            “Hm. You look like shit,” said Husk, putting a glass down and pouring a drink.

            Angel straightened and put on his overconfident act. “Pfft. Not possible. Just a long shoot, nothin’ new.”

            “Are you alright, Angel?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

            “Of course!” said Angel, but he quickly chugged the drink Husk had made him. He slammed the glass down. “I said a strong one.”

            “Excuse me,” scoffed Husk. “Didn’t realize this was a ‘drinking to forget’ kind of night.”

            “Oh, I forgot. You’re the wise old bartender who’s seen it all!” Angel spoke confidently, but the look on his face was clearly not. “Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink.”

            “Look, if you got a problem, you’re not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle,” said Husk. “I should know, I’ve been looking there a long time.”

            “Oh, sure, and where should I look, huh?” said Angel, scoffing. He wiggled his eyebrows. “In your bedroom, maybe? Under the covers? Maybe we can go and look together.”

            “Angel, we’re actually worried,” said (Y/N), walking over. “We want to make sure you’re okay and take care of yourself.”

            “I’m fine,” snapped Angel. “I don’t need any help.”

            “Cut the act,” said Husk. “We can both see through it. You’re just lying to yourself and being fake.”

            “Call me a fake one more time, motherfuckers!” Angel snapped, leaning forward towards (Y/N) and Husk angrily.

            “Angel—” began (Y/N), reaching out slightly.

            “Just leave me alone!” snapped Angel. He slapped their hand away. “Ya know what?! Ya’re all fucking lucky to be talkin’ to me! And you—” he glared at Husk “—would be lucky to fuck me! Ya know how much I’m worth?!” He was clearly spiraling. “Ya know how many people would kill to have Angel Dust come onto them?! Fuck you!” He spun on (Y/N), who flinched back. “And you! Just leave me alone! Stop trying the nice act on me! Acting like you’re innocent and nice when you’re just as much a sinner as us! Just fucking stop!”

            (Y/N) flinched back as Angel stormed out. Their chest constricted, and they were overwhelmed as words from their past came to the surface. (Y/N) stumbled back even as Vaggie came around the corner. They could vaguely hear Vaggie asking Husk what had happened, but everything was faraway, like (Y/N) was underwater.

            (Y/N) pulled away from the group, and as the edges of their vision blurred, they stumbled away, farther into the hotel.

            Away. Need to get away.

            (Y/N) collapsed in a darkened corner of the hotel.

            “Don’t act innocent. You’re a filthy sinner, and if you don’t start obeying me, you’re going straight to Hell.”

            (Y/N) curled up, putting their hands around their knees. Unbidden, roses and briars bloomed around them, creating a protective barrier that couldn’t hide (Y/N) from the words echoing in their mind.

            “I saw you in Church. You weren’t paying attention. Can’t you do anything right? Do you want to burn for all eternity?”

            (Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut and put their hands over their ears, but nothing could block out their memories.

            “You’ve brought this on yourself. You refuse to atone for your sins, so I must deliver you from yourself.”

            (Y/N) flinched, and phantom pain blossomed on their back.

            “You are a sinner! You bring sin into this household! You must atone!”

            (Y/N) curled farther in on themself.

            I’m fine. I’m free. None of them can hurt me again. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

            “I’m fine. They can’t hurt me. I won. I won. I won.”

            “Sinner. Filthy. Dirty.”

            “No, no, no, you were the filthy one. You hurt me.” (Y/N) murmured. “They hurt me, and I punished them.”

            “Wrong. Mistake. Abomination.”

            “I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.”

            “You have to atone.”

            “Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me.”

            (Y/N) tried to breathe as their entire body ran hot, lungs too tight, the air too stuffy.

            And then something cool wrapped around them. (Y/N) tensed, but they were too exhausted to open their eyes, too scared to see the people they were so desperately trying to block out. So they just let the comforting temperature wrap around them, settling around them. It stilled their thoughts, delivering them from their own mental hell.

            (Y/N) let out a tired breath and held themself tightly. Whatever was settling around them felt like no enemy, and (Y/N) would take any bit of comfort they could find.

            They had never gotten any before.

l

            Alastor lurked within the shadows of the hotel, gazing over (Y/N)’s small, protective barrier. He loomed above, perfectly able to act as he wished, ready as ever to drive fear into all. Instead, Alastor let the shadows rise and settle around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Their breathing calmed, and Alastor pulled back farther into the shadows, satisfied.

            He could’ve frightened them. He could’ve driven them farther into their own madness. He could’ve pushed them and their magic to the brink to see if they had the strength to survive.

            But Alastor hadn’t. He’d heard the same words he’d spoken to himself so, so long ago. And he’d done what, perhaps, a different, faint version of himself would have wanted.

            Perhaps (Y/N) and he were not as different as he assumed.

            Instantly, Alastor retreated into the shadows. He would prefer to think over that new realization on his own. It presented quite a few considerations Alastor had so far avoided in his life.

l

            Much, much later in the evening, (Y/N) braved a return to the lobby to attempt to steal a drink before retreating to their room again.

            “Hey, kid?”

            (Y/N) froze and turned. Angel was standing across from them, rubbing his arm nervously.

            “Oh. Uh, hi.”

            “Listen, kid.” Angel stepped forward. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. I was being stupid. You’re a good kid. And even if you’re in Hell, you’re betta than most of the sinners in the Hellhole.”

            “It’s okay,” said (Y/N), shifting uneasily. “You weren’t feeling well. I’m sorry for pushing.”

            “You, uh, cared,” said Angel. “It was nice of you. So thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Angel smiled slightly. “Are we okay?”

            (Y/N) nodded. “We are.” Angel wasn’t who (Y/N) had escaped. He was their friend.

            And whoever had helped them was their friend, too.

Taglist:

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[aceistheplace86]

Strawberry & Pine pt.1

The wood floors creaked under the weight of her slow pace. A mixture of pine, old wood, and stale popcorn hangs in the air.  The large, main room held shelves of merchandise, souvenirs, and a variety of trinkets and tools.

Despite being in the middle of what seemed to be rush hour,  where baffled and intrigued customers talked over one another about the oddities they had seen and what to get from the gift shop,  Julie felt alone. Her legs seemed to be in control, taking her deeper into the so-called Mystery Shack. Julie kept to herself, making sure to keep her distance from the other tourists as she took notice of the décor in the shack, everything seemed to look a bit off almost as if that was the aesthetic the owner was going for.

“Two-headed squirrel” she murmured to herself, staring at the odd, clearly fake creature before her. “Pitiful” Julie was not impressed with what she saw here. Her first impression was a bust, the letter S had been missing from the roof now leaning haphazardly against the side of the building. The inside was worse, fake taxidermized creatures with odd names, some parts very noticeably glued together, and a plastic water bottle claiming to hold water from “the Fountain of Youth”  

“I actually just came up with that one” A voice startled her.

She turned around and stared at the man ahead of her.  He wore a clean, dark suit, with a matching dark hat slightly tilted upon his head. He stared at her with a charming, excited smile, his dark eyes wide, and his thick eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for a laugh from her.

When that never came, he cleared his throat and held out his hand “Mr. Mystery” He says regaining his composure once again. “I didn’t see you on the tour” His expression fell slightly “You aren’t one of the parents of the teens I may or may not have pushed into the bottomless pit… are ya?”

Julie looks down at his hand pausing for a moment before carefully extending her hand out to shake his. She seemed to linger a bit before letting go.  “I didn’t take the tour. I just stopped by” She raised her eyebrow “You often push teens down into the pit?”

He laughs “Only when they’re getting on my nerves. That was also a joke” He waves his hand quickly dismissing it “Do you want a tour? I’ll gladly show you around for the regular price”

Julie shook her head “I think I prefer to explore myself if you don’t mind”

He shrugs “Your loss, make sure you check out the new exhibit, I put a lot of work into that one” He paused for a moment and sniffed “Do you smell… strawberry? Is… Is that a stroke symptom?”

The woman laughed slightly at his confusion, and abrupt notice of the smell “That might be me” She said slowly “It’s my perfume and the top note is ripe strawberries”

“Oh. You smell nice” His face reddened, and he rubbed the back of his neck “Your perfume, it. Well, this general area smells a lot nicer than the rest of the shack... You know... the woods have an overpowering scent and all”  

Julie laughed a bit as he rambled on. Before she could speak though there was a crash from outside.

“This is why you’re not allowed to drive the golf cart, Mable!” A boy cried out, followed by the sound of someone else, presumably Mable, mimicking him.

“That would be the sounds of my great niece and nephew.  I uh should probably go check that out, it’ll cost me extra if I send them back home all damaged” He gave her a small smile and felt oddly proud when he got her to laugh again. “Come again soon, maybe stop for the tour next time” He gave her a wave and walked off.

Julie shook her head with a small smile, she wouldn’t be back for a tour but wasn’t finished with the mystery shack just yet.

____________________________________________________________

Stan had finished up the rest of the day with little to no issues. He locked up the shack and made his way to his bedroom, still catching the faint scent of strawberries. He tiredly shed off his jacket and tossed it on his bed, that's when he noticed a piece of paper peaking out of the pocket.

He reached over, picked it up, and read it.

Tomorrow, Greasy Diner, 10:00 am.

-Julie

[anxiously-going]

Found this piece tonight. Apparently I had decided to do something with my AU idea of Bones being a doctor in the rescue efforts on Tarsus IV

Len cautiously stepped into the holding cell and crouched down beside the bed to try to get to the kid’s eye level. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. The kid simply stared back in guarded confusion. “They never should have done this to you. This is wrong and I’m so sorry. I’m gonna undo these restraints, okay? But I need you to be still, okay? I don’t want you pulling on them and getting hurt. I bet they already hurt, don’t they?”

The kid hesitated then nodded almost imperceptibly.

Len nodded and let out a sigh. “I’m gonna undo them, but I’m gonna go slow, okay? If you were already tuggin’ on ‘em you probably bruised yourself up, there might even be a few fractures, alright? And the last thing I wanna do is hurt you while I’m tryin’a help you. So I’m gonna start with the middle one, then do your right side, then your left, okay?” he waited for another nod from the kid then stood. “My name’s Len, by the way.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I am. I’m a family doctor from Georgia.” Len answered and carefully loosed the strap over the teen’s chest then tossed it over the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna start with your wrist, okay? Don’t punch me.” He offered a smirk, but the kid didn’t seem interested in the joke.

“Why are you here?”

“I was recommended by Commander Christopher Pike-”

“Is he here?!” the kid tried to bolt upright, was held back by his wrists and fell back, biting back a loud groan of pain and tired rolling onto his right side.

“Easy, kid, easy!” Len urged.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarled when Len rested a hand on his chest, trying to push him to lie flat.

Len raised his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Where is he? I wanna talk to him.”

“I’m sorry, kid, he’s not here. He’s still on earth. Kid, listen I’m really worried about that arm, I think you might have stress fractures from the restraints. It’s really important that I get those off and that we get regen going so we get you feeling better.”

“I wanna talk to him.”

Len pulled out his communicator. “McCoy to-”

“Security is on their way,” a voice interrupted.

“If a single security guard steps into this room I’m gonna put ‘em on a stretcher!” Leonard snarled. “My patient knows Commander Pike and would like to speak to him. Get communication back to earth as soon as possible.” he snapped the communicator shut before the voice could argue. “Can I please fix your wrist now?” Len waited for the kid to nod then stepped forward and gingerly picked up his hand. “Alright, kid, this is probably gonna hurt coming off just try to be still, okay?”

The teen audible winced and really tried not to squirm.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Len murmured. He laid the hand back down once the restraint was off. “Okay, I’m gonna get the other ones, then I’ll take a scan on your wrist and we’ll go from there, okay? And after that I’m gonna help you sue the pants off’a whoever did this for medical malpractice and negligence. So. You gonna let me keep caliin’ ya ‘kid’ or are you gonna tell me your name?” He tossed aside the right ankle restraint.

“Didn’t you read my file?”

“I did. You have quite the laundry list of allergies by the way. But I don’t want to assume you go by ‘James’ and I’d rather call you by what you're comfortable with. And if that’s ‘kid’ that’s fine too.”

“JT.”

Len glanced up from the left ankle.

“You can call me JT.”

“Nice to meet you, JT.” He set to work on the last restraint. “My name is Leonard, so you can see why I go by Len. Or McCoy, that’s my last name. I’m gonna take a scan on your arm now, okay?”

JT watched him carefully as he ran the tricorder wad over his arm. “How bad is it?” he asked when Len sighed.

“It’s not bad as far as breaks go. You’ve got some stress fracture that…actually looks kinda old. It’s nothing we can’t fix. Just makes me angry that you have them at all. Honestly, kid, you're gonna need to be careful for a while. Right now you're pretty severely malnourished, so your bones are weak and they're gonna break a lot easier than they normally would. We can do some diet modifications and treatments like that, but it's still gonna take some time before you've gotten your strength back."

"Are you some kind of bone specialist?"

Len gave an amused smile. "What makes you ask that?"

"You're the only one who checked them."

Len's smile faltered. "No, I'm not a specialist. But they are pretty important. Wouldn’t be able to hold a shape without them. Have you ever had any regen done for a broken bone?”

JT shook his head and Len let out another sigh.

“Alright, I’m gonna explain how it works because I have a feeling you're not gonna be a fan. So to start, it’s not actually your wrist bones that are fractured. They’re bruised, but the actual fracture is right here-” He held up his hand, palm out and touched each side of his arm just under the wrist “-in your radius and your ulna. There was uneven pressure because of where the restraints ended and that’s what caused the fractures. Now, the regenerator is going to go over your hold wrist and part of your arm, kinda like a brace. It’s gonna have to stay on for probably a good two hours. And you gotta keep the arm still while it’s on, alright? I’m not gonna lie to you, JT, it probably won’t be very comfortable, and it’s okay to feel anxious about it. Especially considering what those...fools did to you before. But that is the best way to take care of it. If you really don’t want to do that I can put an old fashioned cast on you, but then it’s gonna take about six weeks for it to heal and you’ll have to wear the cast 24/7 that way.”

“Can’t it just heal on its own?”

“Not without some kind of support to prevent the fractures from getting worse. It’s a miracle they aren’t worse already. Your body needs calcium for a lotta things, JT. One of those things is muscle movement. When you’re not getting enough calcium through your diet your body starts breaking down your bones to get it. That’s why your bones are so brittle right now. The only other thing we can do is I could sedate you-”

“No.”

“Okay. I won’t do that then. How ‘bout this. We try the regen first, we’ll leave it on for...half an hour. If you’re feelin’ a little overwhelmed we’ll take it off and you can take a break and we’ll go from there about and see how you feel. Maybe we get it going and you feel like you can do a little longer, great! We’ll do it for longer. Maybe we just do this in short bursts. It might take a little longer than just the two hours that way, but if it makes you more comfortable we can do that.”

"We can try it," J.T. agreed.

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

Thank you for answering my ask! I also want to add that some protagonists in YA are now made to be characters who are 20, rather than teenagers - which confuses me, because YA really should be aimed at teenagers. Books can be for all ages, but I find it odd that so many adults hold onto/are obsessed with YA/teen media to the point authors are now pushing teenagers out of a space that's literally meant to be for them. As you said, it's a form of escapism sure, but it's strange to force YA to become more gritty and explicit when you can just write adult lit and use that age group as a way to explore things instead.

I think a nostalgia factor plays into it, plus an immaturity factor. Adults cling onto their teenage self because they feel that mentally, they cannot move on. This means that YA becomes darker to acomodate the adults who read the books (authors do this for profit and to become viral).

Also, about the why YA?, it's because the whole YA genre, I think, is the most flexible genre. YA is 13-18 YOs, and there's a world of difference between what kind of books people read between those ages. I personally think that YA authors are trying to write fiction for the late teens (17-18 YOs) and make their work darker, so much that it bleeds into the explicit-ness of Adult Lit, but they keep the tropes similar to typical YA, so they can still market it as YA. And, since YA as a whole genre is teens, even early teens are shown (through Booktok and similar) what the latest popular read is, and this, as a whole, compromises the integrity and teen-ness of te YA genre. In short: YA is the most marketable, and Adult Lit is collateral damage. I suspect middle-grade is next. I certainly hope not, though. I'd cry if Booktok ruined my favourite genre.

Have you noticed that similar things are happening with TV shows and other media? Odd how dark and gory stuff are being shown to teens (and younger) more now than ever. Think about Stranger Things and similar. Casual horror is becoming far more prevalent. YA becoming darker isn't just a phenomenon in Booktok, it's across other media.

But Booktok is kind of perfect to make darker, and this makes it the clearest example. Now, more than ever, books are hugely bought instead of borrowed at a library. Social media feeds into consumerism, so now, authors are writing these hugely dark YA books to keep up with what's trending.

In doing some minor research, I've found that people who defend Booktok in its current state argue to "let people read what they want". I'd like to say to this that that's what anti-Booktokers have been saying the whole time. Compromising the core and integrity of the YA genre is policing people's reading more than anti-Booktokers. Ugh. Things don't exist in a vacuum, and while we can pretend that Booktok only exists for sharing books and thoughts, the reality is that it's become a target to boost consumerism and is more of an industry (buying-selling-supply-demand kind of stuff) than we'd like to admit.

I guess the best way to go about this problem is to make noise about books you like - and not via Booktok. Check out your local library and request a book if they offer those services. Support authors who's books have to brave the upcoming year without being trope-y bullshit.

Thanks for the ask, again! They completely make my day, and I love answering them.

NOTE: I've finished writing all this and just found out that YA is actually 12-18. But my point still stands.

[echoalyssa]

hi! i was just wondering if you could write maybe something about how the reader is shy when it comes to sex and cant really say what she wants in the bedroom without getting flustered and just gets flustered easy in general? could you maybe do this with theo from teen wolf? and maybe theo makes her say it anyways and teases her about it. smutty times ensue ya know? thank you so much 😁😁

Authors Note: Oop. This took way too long to get out. I am so so sorry. Thank you for your patience and your support!

You’d been alone together hundreds of times. The two of you had been best friends before you had gotten together and started dating. But this time? This time felt different.

You’d also kissed him thousands of times, made out with him, been turned on by him. You'd had sex before, but were always too shy to initiate it.

Except today when his lips move to your neck as they have before, you want more. You want him.

You just… happened to be too nervous to initiate anything and Theo would never do anything without permission so you would have to initiate it.

You’re wearing a skirt today, one of those adorable little plaid skirts. Theo groans softly and his hand grabs your ass, urging you to straddle his lap. You follow his guidance eagerly though your movements unsure. Your skirt continues to ride up as you settle with your knees on either side of his thighs. And somehow his long middle finger ends up brushing your underwear enough that he stops kissing you.

“Y/N?“ he asks.

You frown and look at him. ��What?”

“I don’t know if you noticed but I touched you. And you’re- you’re really wet.”

Oh you had definitely noticed. You flush. I mean sure you were turned on but had he really noticed that certain aspect?

Your mouth opens and closes rapidly, like a gold fish. You have no idea what to say.

“Am I?” You finally choke out.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Do you want me to touch you? Give me permission and I’ll make you feel good.”

More hesitation from you, purely from your shyness. You nod once, firmly, but refuse to look him in the eyes.

Theo Raeken lifts your chin and looks into your eyes. Searching for your gaze to check. You know he’s also using his enhanced chimera hearing to listen to your heart rate and breathing.

He seems satisfied with your answer. He’d touched you before. You had touched him before. Which is why you had assumed that he would touch you, not free himself from the confines of his jeans and push your underwear aside. He places his hands on your hips and pulls them forward so that you’re naked core glides over his length.

You whimper. It’s a feeling unlike any that you’ve experienced before. Your body is set alight it seems and your hips just can’t stop moving, stop rocking. He’s not helping you at all, but instead letting you learn what you like.

“You feel so damn good and I’m not even inside of you yet. Fuck.”

You whimper, his words going straight to your core.

His length jumps beneath you, brushing up against your clit and you jump, hovering above him unsure.

Slowly you lower yourself back onto him and press a timid kiss to the side of his jaw.

"What do you want, baby?"

His voice is low and raspy, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. It's just so hard to put it into words. To tell your boyfriend that this is something you've been dreaming of for weeks.

If only he could just read your mind and know exactly what you wanted.

Theo's hands are resting on your hips and he slowly guides your hips in slow circles on top of his hips before pulling away, asking the question again.

"What do you want?"

Just the tension of being that close to him has you beginning to climb that slope to bliss. Theo's lips drag across your neck, leaving hickies behind to show the world who you belong to.

"Please..."

"Hmm..?" He asks, "Please what?"

You make a broken noise, struggling to communicate with him but desperate for some sort of stimulation.

"I wan't..."

"Yeah baby? What do you want? I'm not doing anything until you tell me what you want." His eyes sparkle with mischief as the words leave his mouth because he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"I want you to fuck me."

Theo grins, flipping you so that you're on your back between his legs in an instant. His fingers dance across that sensitive bundle of nerves, underwear still shoved to the side.

Your hips are riding his fingers unconsciously, focused solely on that fire in your belly that was beginning to grow. His fingers are amazing, but it's just not what you really want.

"Theo!"

His fingers speed up just slightly and you clutch his forearm.

"Theo! Your..."

You watch him shove his pants and boxers down, dragging the head of him against your opening. Your head falls back in satisfaction and you moan out his name.

He ducks his head, dragging his lips across yours while rolling his hips up into you.

You're feverish with desire. You don't think you've ever wanted something more in your life. It's Theo, nothing about him could ever be wrong.

"Theo fuck me!"

He doesn't need to be told twice. His hand dips between the two of you to line himself up and he shoves his hips forward forcefully.

You yelp, the sudden fullness of him shocking you. He grabs you leg, shoving it up over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to your calf.

He finds his middle ground, lots of power but a slower pace. Your boyfriend drops a hand between the two of you, his thumb finds the center of you and begins to rub little half circles.

"You're so big." You sob, clutching his shoulder, nails digging into his skin and leaving little red trails in their wake.

"So fucking good for me baby. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"S-so good T-theo! W-wanna cum f-for y-uou."

He grunts, hips speeding up and his thrusts going sloppy. He wraps a hand around your neck and leans down to kiss you.

That fire is building... building. Like standing on the edge of a cliff ready to fall but needing that final push. He moans out your name from above you and that's it. You clench around him over and over and over. Molten lava runs through your veins and you're screaming for him, legs wrapped so tightly around him that it brings him to his climax. His hips stutter uncertainty and then glue themselves to you as you feel him twitch inside of you.

He finally stills against you panting into your ear.

"Holy shit baby." He says with a low chuckle. "Wasn't that fun?"

[booksandchainmail]

Lodestar (not a hugo) Finalists 2024

Impressions and loose rankings of the best children's/YA finalists for 2024. Note that I didn't read Promises Stronger than Darkness, since I didn't like the first book or finish the second book in that trilogy

To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose. This was one of my favorite books last year and one my nominees for the Lodestar, and having read the other finalists still my top choice. I'm just going to copy my response from this end of year post: This book was so perfectly targeted to me, I'm a sucker for books where people raise dragons. And the worldbuilding! Such an interesting alt-history, and such a fun magic system that is mostly actual chemistry/physics. This is one where I also got really really invested in the side characters, Theod's arc in particular hit me really hard. But it's also great to have a book (not even a super long book!) where I can say things like "I'm interested in the main character's older brother's girlfriends plotline about inventing long-range airships", and have that level of engagement across a wide cast. Also, this book has the perfect title in ways that become clear partway through.

Liberty's Daughter, by Naomi Kritzer. Remember that article about libertarians going to "seastead" on a cruise ship, and how bad it was? This book is dystopian scifi set in a world where they pulled it off. I think it does a good job of a main character whose been raised with libertarian ideals broadening her perpective, and I have to give props to any book that makes the dashing rebel group in a YA dystopia literally the IWW. More books should contain the line "the Wobblies are here". I think it also does a good job of treading a fine line between "why is this kid in danger" while not stripping agency from her: a lot of tension in the later parts of the book comes from responsible adults not wanting Beck in danger, and then because of it infantilizing her and her pushing back to be respected in her home and vocation

Unraveller, by Frances Hardinge. Just finished this the other day, an excellent fantasy novel. I particularly appreciate the push-and-pull between the two POVs, and how this is a teen novel with a male and female protagonist and there is absolutely no romance. Very nice fairy tale/fae vibes, riffing on general feeling rather than adapting a specific story, which is always a trick to pull off. Nettle's backstory in particular feels like she could be a retelling of an existing story, but I'm pretty sure it's original (though pulling inspiration clearly).

The Sinister Booksellers of Bath, by Garth Nix. I read this when it came out, so my memories aren't strong. I remember being disappointed: I don't know if it's just that I'm older, but the newer Garth Nix books have not lived up to his reputation. I like the lead characters, but I didn't have any particular reaction to the books as a whole. I will say I find it amusing that this is sold as YA despite the protagonist being a university student. This could easily be swapped with the one below.

Abeni's Song, by P. Djeli Clark. I think this book is suffering largely from how broad a category the lodestars are. The other nominees I ranked are all books aimed at older teenagers with crossover appeal for adults, whereas this book is middle grade. It's hard for me to judge, because I feel like I would have liked this book if I was the target age! But it's hard to judge a hypothetical "would I have liked this at nine" versus "I like this now". I think the book should have spent more time on the adventure section rather than the living with a witch section, but probably the rest of the series will even that out.

[haikyuuwaifu]

Prologue

Genre: Drama, Humor

Warnings: Swearing, Attempted body take over, villain attack, mentions of someone passing away

MASTERLIST

Welcome Party Committee

“Kachan!” Izuku whined, gripping his best friend's arm. The blonde only scoffed, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’m not helping you get with half-n-half idiot. We’re just a bunch of kids, and we’re going to UA.” Katsuki grumbled, giving his friend his sternest glare. “Who the hell has time for shit like dating when we’re trying to be fucking heroes.” “This isn’t even about Shoto!” Izuku hissed, glaring over at the blonde. “This is about that super secret training I know you’re doing with Endeavor!” The greenette whined. As the two teens made their way back home, they argued and poked at one another, unaware of the villain slithering behind them.

Ten minutes later , found Izuku Midoriya standing helpless as he watched the slime villain take over his best friend. The heroes around him weren’t moving, and he’d tried calling their parents. The signals were down. Izuku could hear Kachan’s agony as the villain stretched his face and his limbs. He felt helpless, his skin sparking as he tried to control his quirk. His father told him he wasn’t allowed to use it unless he or Endeavor was around. Watching Katsuki’s body morph and change, hearing his best friends cries, Izuku’s heart broke. As lightening licked at his skin, Izuku got into position to move. 

“Watch out!” Someone shouted from the sky. Izuku looked up to see Hawks, propelling what looked like a person, toward Katsuki. He watched as the human projectile dove straight into the slime villain, and screamed when he saw the villain spit Katsuki out. Scrambling, Izuku pulled his friend into his chest, backing away from the fight. The boys watched as moments later, the slime villain began shrinking. Izuku could see the villain being sucked into a container. Following the arm being held out, Izuku was surprised to see a hero he’d never seen on Japanese television standing in front of him. “How ya been Cat-suki?” The hero teased, giving Katsuki a wink. The blonde teen blinked rapidly, eyes trying to refocus. He’d caught his breath, and had finally gotten his bearings. “Y/n?” Katsuki whispered, eyes taking in the way her ears flickered at the call of her name. “It’s good to see you Cat-suki!” She cooed, tossing the container up to Hawks. “You shitty woman! I told you to never call me that again!” Katsuki barked scrambling to his feet to pull her into a hug. Y/n only laughed, holding the boy close. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it.” She teased brushing his hair back. “Are you okay?” She asked, as the blonde scoffed. “I could have had him.” He sniffed. Y/n and Izuku shared a look, when the crowd parted. “Katsuki!” Enji shouted, pushing through the crowd. “I’m fine pops!” Katsuki barked, his cheeks pink as Enji gave his stepson a once over. “You’ve finally announced your arrival neko!” All might boomed, giving Y/n a flashy grin. “Fuck off old man, next time, try not to take your sweet ass time getting here.” Y/n sniffed, flipping him off. Izuku’s jaw dropped as Enji tried to hide a laugh. “And the rest of you!” She shouted, sneering at the heroes in the surrounding area. “The next time you even think about hesitating to save a civilian, I’ll shove my foot so far up your fucking ass you’ll taste leather for fucking weeks. You have a duty. If you’re just in it for the money, quit right fucking now.” She shouted, shooting the camera’s the middle finger salute. “Pro Hero Neko is here Japan, and you better be fucking ready!”

Hours later found Y/n whistling as she took in the Todoroki home. “Damn Mitsuki, you really landed yourself a sugar daddy.” The hero shouted, as the sounds of pans clattering rung through the home. “Y/n!” Mitsuki shouted, meeting the woman half-way to the living room. Y/n laughed as the older woman pulled her into the tightest hug she could muster. “How the hell do you know the #2 American Hero?!” Izuku shouted, gripping his best friend's backpack. The rest of the Todoroki’s were sitting at the dining table, sharing dubious looks of curiosity. “After Masaru passed I left Japan.” Mitsuki stated, her arm still wrapped around Y/n’s. “Yumi, could you finish setting the table for me.” Mitsuki asked, pulling Y/n into the kitchen. The girl, “Yumi” nodded, sliding her phone into her jacket. “Sure thing mom.” She smiled, making her way over and bowing. “Fuyumi Todoroki.” “Please don’t be formal. My manners are atrocious at best.” Y/n mumbled sheepishly as the two women shared a smile. “I was really just some crap teen looking for some extra cash. Mitsuki needed some help with Cat-suki, so I stuck around for a few years until it was time for me to graduate.” Y/n supplied, as she helped Fuyumi carry dishes. “You call him Cat-suki?” Natuso cackled, as he and Shoto shared a look. “If you call him Cat-suki I’ll neuter you both.” Y/n declared, a friendly smile on her face. Enji had entered the room and simply shrugged. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Y/n since she debuted in the US. She could probably kick my ass if she wanted to.” He supplied, taking his seat at the head of the table. “Are you alright Katsuki?” Mitsuki asked, pulling her son into a hug. “I’m fine ma. Promise, I’ll be okay.” “You’re gonna go see a therapist anyway Cat-suki or else.” Y/n hummed, as everyone started plating their food. Izuku had so many questions, but he promised Kachan he’d wait. The slamming of the front door alerted the rest of the Todoroki’s that their final family member had arrived. “Fuck, I’ve had a long ass fucking day. To top it of, Keigo’s been fucking busy being a fucking d-” Touya stopped his sentence, when he recognized Y/n sitting in his seat. “What the hell is she doing here?” He hissed, giving the woman a glare. Y/n only smiled, taking a bite of her food. “Good as ever Mitsuki.” She praised, taking another bite. “Sit down and eat fuck face.” Y/n grunted. Natsuo and Shoto waited, knowing Touya’s temper would rear its ugly head. The man only blew flames out of his nostrils, stomping over to the table. “Fuck off.” He mumbled, as Y/n flicked him with her tail. “Good to see you too metal face.” she cooed. Touya’s blush caused his brother’s to break out into an uproar. Enji could only sigh, knowing Y/n was going to throw everything into chaos now that she was here.

In the Aizawa home, Shouta was sitting in the living room grading papers. Eri had just finished her bath and Shinsou had just finished braiding his sisters hair. The trio was watching the news. “I can’t believe that villain snuck up on Suki like that.” Eri mumbled, as she and her brother watched the footage. “It’s not everyday a villain like that can get the jump on someone usually so vigilant.” Shouta replied, eyes on the paper in front of him. “Midoriya said he’s doing okay.” Shinsou mumbled, eyes watching the footage on the screen. “She’s a kitty!” Eri shouted, clutching her stuffie excitedly. Shouta looked up, coming face to face with a woman he’d never seen before. “Pro Hero Neko is here Japan, and you better be fucking ready!” Shinsou let out a laugh, as Eri giggled. “She said a bad word on television!” Shouta snorted, clicking the tv off. “Must be one of those new younger heroes.” he grunted, running a hand through his hair. “Zuku said that she’s Neko. The number 2 hero from the U.S!” Shinsou muttered, his eyes widening as he tapped away on his phone. “Said she relocated to Japan and she’s a friend of Mrs. Bakugo.” Shouta gave his son a grunt, his eyes trained on the test in front of him. “Well I think she’s great!” Eri hummed, tucking her stuffie under her chin. “And she’s real pretty too.”

Prev/Next

[dufferpuffer]

Just read about you okaying one of the anon ask about random ships. Because just like so many people I too like your analysis...

I know that this might be out of your usual circle of favorite characters. Or a little strange ship too...

But I always found it interesting to think about two rebels of rhe family. One from house of black and one from house of Weasley.

Sirius Black and Percy Weasley.

I think the fandom has slept on Percy's potential as a lead character for good story.

Harry dislikes percy right along ron and twins etc but if we see from certain angle he was nit wrong in not trusting dumbles. And he having trust in ministry and authority figures and not wanting to be part of a vigilante group is also not bad thing.

Him having fights with parents is also nothing new, we all at certain age think that we know better than them.

Percy is a gryffindor though. He didn't say no because he was scared to fight. He said no because he didn't like Dumbledore approach. Again understandable as order was full of teens and ya with bright future if not for albus pushing them to fight

Mr and mrs Weasley make it seem like they don't want their children to fight but since they are affected by the war we can't say them no too. But they did everything in front of children in ootp. R + h+ h will be the front warriors because of harry but twins and Charlie and bill do follow their parents' foot steps..

The dynamic bw Sirius and percy I would like to explore but my brain is not much help in it as to what will be the interaction be like.

I mean with Sirius having seen with his own eyes that under Dumbledore regime they are all like sitting ducks, dumbles not helping his own unlawful imprisonment situation, making things difficult for harry.

What if the two join forces.

I too dont like age gap romances but in Wizarding word people live more that 150 years so what is a 14-15 year age difference.

If you are irked about a romantic relationship bw the two than you can share your thought on them platonically joining forces to help each other...

Sirius has a unique situation because he understand what it feels to just move away from your family. That it is not all sunshine and roses. That it is a tough decision. He also has been wronged by order and it's leader by ignorance and indifference, same as percy who like a typical middle child feels left out.

Sirius knows that though ministry is useless, this time he also doesn't wants to bet all his chances of win on Dumbledore like last time...

If you are interested I will like to hear your thoughts 🤔💭

Ok, first of all - I do not mind age gaps. It would be pretty hypocritical if I did, since my partner is 17 years older than me lol I cannot blame Percy for fucking a hot old man when I, too, fuck the hot old men. I find the whole concept of 'age gaps being irksome' demeaning - not to mention rooted in sexism, homophobia and ableism. An adult should be able to love another adult. Period.

That being said - Percy and Sirius... an interesting concept.

Overall I think, while they have ALOT of similarities, they have some aspects that would grind against each-other. That doesn't mean I don't think they can work, I just think they have a hump to get over: - Sirius' judgemental nature and being a playful bully. - Percy's pride and protective nature (being like his mother).

Sirius is an understanding, compassionate guy... but there are things that crawl right up under his skin: - Like 'abandoning' the people you love. He isn't an idiot, he can tell Percy hasn't abandoned his family, but he would think he is wasting his time at the Ministry of all places rather than actually being there physically and emotionally for them. - He also can't stand stiffs. His parents, his brother - even Molly herself, doesn't want the kids to do anything... He is a firecracker. He likes to poke sleeping bears and break some rules. - Percy is proud, to a ridiculous level. He will close his eyes to the truth in order to keep pushing. He has decided on what he will do - and even if everyone he loves says no. He has the childish desire to be a Big Grown Boy which leaves his ego easily bruised... and Sirius would find that naive, and perhaps a little too much like his brother. Percy may be an adult, but he acts like a snotty little brat.

The main dynamic I could imagine them having - Is Sirius being annoying, like a third Twin, someone that pokes fun at Percy's expense for a laugh... but with a burning, caring desire to not let Percy become another Regulus... or another HIMSELF. Facing the pain of having to lose a sibling before he has the chance to reconcile with them - just because he was stubborn.

I think Sirius would want to SAVE him from his own mistakes... and for Percy, having yet another person see his ambition as a mistake would be aggravating. Sirius' earnestness with his concern would harm his pride. And that's an interesting dynamic to work through. Perhaps, forced to abandon his pride - like being fired from the Ministry - would open Percy up to listening to an old dog who has seen the 'truth' of the world...?

Maybe spending more time with Sirius and seeing how the Ministry has treated him - how they continue to treat him - would disillusion him to the Ministry. He believes when his family says Voldemort is back, and he believes Sirius when he says he was innocent... and so he finally has to make himself wake up from his dreams and put his burning passions to a different goal.

Sirius is trapped in his house... but Percy is free. Maybe it starts as just running errands, but turns into a team. The both of them working together - maybe Percy even working within the Ministry, spying for Sirius specifically. Spending all that time alone together, moping about becoming jaded, drinking about their dreams going up in smoke... I mean if you want intimacy or romance that's a perfect launchpad.

I know in the extended text below its alot of negative stuff but I would DEVOUR a good fic about them. I would LOVE that. If you are planning on writing one WRITE IT - and if you aren't... any recs?

Extended thoughts below (900ish words)

Firstly... I love Albus. I stand by him and most of his decisions... though I agree that Sirius is probably not the biggest fan and for good reasons... but I don't think we actually see him disagreeing with Albus much in canon...? I might be forgetting something. Sirius is DEFINITELY keen on the 'child-soldier' thing. He FIGHTS for Harry and the kids to be involved when they are underage. If Percy wants his entire family out of the war, especially his siblings... Sirius wants them in. An interesting conflict.

~~~

I don't think Percy didn't join the Order because it was 'full of teens' - it wasn't. It had 3 teens that visited sometimes - and they were kept in the dark until they were 17. Dumbledore wasn't making child soldiers, aside from Harry - but what choice does he have? "...with bright futures if not for albus pushing them to fight" They won't have ANY future if they don't fight for their lives. By the end of GoF it isn't a question of if, but when: When will Harry be forced by fate to fulfill the prophecy? When will the Burrows' protective charms fail and expose them? When will Hermione fight for her life as a muggleborn? These events are guaranteed. Not hypothetical.

I know this is a tangent, but Albus fought in possibly BOTH Muggle World Wars and three Wizarding wars. He knows the horrors of war. He tried to shelter Harry, to keep him at arms length, unaware of politics, hidden in safe places... but he couldn't do that forever. Especially not when the Ministry was unhelpful, most of the Wizarding World was blinded by propaganda - and he was dying.

Shit I talked about Albus too much again, what was I saying? Oh yeah - I don't think Percy didn't join the order because of that. I think he simply had faith in the Ministry and Pride in himself. His older siblings left the country, leaving him as the eldest. His father stayed in a low-paying job he was constantly putting at risk... and wasn't trying to be promoted. He wanted to turn his families life around. He LOVES his family.

~~~

While Sirius knows how difficult it is to leave family you have a complicated relationship with - he left his family because he rejected them. He numbed himself to their fates the best he could.

Percy left because he loves them. He wants to support his little brothers and sister. He wants to make his Mother proud and earn his fathers respect. He was going to work his ass off in these turbulent times and work his way up to being Minister of Magic.

...Sirius would think that is very cute. He is jaded. "You really think Cornelius Fudge got to his position through 'hard work'' and 'honest effort'...? Oh, you sweet boy... how naive." But I also think it would bamboozle him a little: "You love your family, but you left them? You aren't fighting with them? You're messing about at the ministry instead of being their knight...? You're being a cute little secretary or whatever to the same old bastard that pushed for me not to get a trial??" Sirius is loyal to a fault. He would acknowledge Percy's drive as admirable but think he is putting it all in the wrong place. Sirius could see Percy's heart, his intent, his love - in a way that others don't... but he doesn't relate. Percy's heart is good - but he's off chasing silly dreams. This isn't the time for dreams. This is war.

~~~

Percy was a proud prefect and Head Boy - exactly the sort of rule-enforcing snob Sirius would terrorize for fun. That's not a deal-breaker or anything - but Sirius is more like Fred/George. An interesting dynamic since Percy can't stand bullying.

~~~

Percy has faith in the Ministry, enough to stick with them all the way until the last book - and thus, has little faith in Sirius Black. He isn't going to out him, but he doesn't see him doing much either: 'Sitting drinking in your mothers house... Not exactly trying to clear your name, are you?' He might even feel some embarrassment for how the Ministry failed Sirius, which could come out in all sorts of victim-blamey ways.

~~~

Percy doesn't have many people on his side, but he doesn't feel like he NEEDS them on his side. He is a big tough man all on his own! Sirius might show him compassion and some understanding, but I don't know if Percy would care to listen to him. He is a bit independent man now - and, for awhile, people trying to show him compassion and understanding might make him feel patronized.

~~~

Just the image of Percy sending back his christmas jumper, disowning his family... Sirius would go off his rocker. He knows what family pressure is like - but he also knows what the Weasley dynamic is. He knows what Percy is pushing away from and it is pathetic. They love him in all the ways Sirius' family never did, and for Percy to reject that would hurt Sirius, too. "...You made your mother cry, Perce. And Molly isn't like my mother."

~~~

Also sorry this took awhile I wanted to both give it good thought - and shit got busy, I fostered an injured bird for awhile

[kathyprior4200]

Rolando Infests Blitzo

“You call yourselves assassins!” Rolando mocked Blitzo and Millie in the pool room of the One Star Wonder Hotel. He moved his head, and all the lightbulbs shattered, leaving the room in darkness, save for the glowing pool. An invisible force rammed into the imps, knocking them backwards. The pillars cracked and yellow sparks rained down from the broken bulbs.

Rolando cocked his head. He hovered off the ground and spoke in an eerie voice.

“Eenie, meenie, miny…”

Blitzo and Mille looked up with terrified looks.

His glowing yellow eyes widened. “…mo!”

Blitzo screamed as Rolando zoomed at him and entered through his head in black goo. Blitzo collapsed to the ground.

0 0 0

Blitzo found himself chained to a chair in an old movie theater. Rusted chains were wrapped around his wrists and across his chest. Coral and seaweed poked out from between the seats. The walls had large eye designs, and an old projector sat high within the wall. He glanced around fearfully, struggling to escape the rusted chains to no avail. More chains held his horns in place.

Rolando floated out of Blitzo surrounded by glowing ocean goo and grinned. He licked his neck with his long yellow-green tongue and Blitzo flinched and whimpered.

“Welcome to the show, asshole,” Rolando mused. Rolando flew in an arch of black goo before settling in a seat behind him. He held a bag of popcorn in his hand and propped his legs up.

“I hear this one’s a real titilator.”

The curtains opened. He grinned and pointed at the screen. The overhead projector blinked to life. The screen was tinted green and did the old-fashioned round “3, 2, 1,” on the screen.

To Blitzo’s utter horror, his own memories flashed before him.

0 0 0

A young Blitzo spotted a young Fizzarolli balancing on a large yellow ball decorated with a red pentagram on it. He supported himself using only his hand while balancing spinning plates on sticks. He balanced the sticks with his clown nose, his other hand and with both his spread-out legs.

Little Blitzo enviously peered at him from behind the red curtains.

“Fizz, Fizz, Fizz!” cheered the audience of imps.

An older Blitzo peeked behind the circus tent flap at a teen Fizzarolli, wearing a black bowtie, white shirt and suspenders. Fizzarolli’s outfit was purple and white. Blitzo’s greedy father, Cash Buckzo stood with his striped shirt and worn-out top hat and small white goatee under his chin. All the imps had the black circus posse mark on their foreheads.

“Fizzarolli!” he smiled. “That was one fantastic performance out there! Here’s a birthday card for ya!”

Fizzarolli laughed as another imp put a red clown nose on his own nose. “Aw, thanks Cash!”

He opened the card, decorated in blue with gold letters on the cover: “WISH YOU WERE MY SON.”

“I’ve never seen such talent, such grace,” Cash Buckzo exclaimed. “You make my own son seem like a sad excuse.”

Blitzo flinched at his words.

“Your presence will make you a star and hopefully bring great profit to our greater family circus! I’m counting on you, Fizz!”

Cash Buckzo then wandered off.

Fizzarolli glanced over and waved happily to Blitzo. Blitzo shrank back.

Fizzarolli, Blitzo’s close friend…yes, he was envious of him, but at the same time, he was mesmerized by his friendliness and charm. He had dreams of him and Fizzarolli performing together, traveling across the Rings and sharing passionate kisses under the moonlight.

In the chaos of performing and trying to please his father, Fizzarolli had been a glimpse into a more carefree childhood. Blitzo could be himself around him.

Of course, being one to keep his feelings heavily guarded within, Blitzo found no courage to tell him his feelings directly. Blitzo sadly held in his hand a red flower with an eye in the middle and a white envelope with a love letter inside.

Blitzo thought to himself, ‘Perhaps Fizz and I are not meant to be. My acts are nothing compared to his. If my own father favors him, perhaps I should just leave…’

Blitzo glumly pushed aside an imp who was carrying a birthday cake with green candle flames on it. The cake read “Happy Birthday Fizz!” It fell to the ground and the flames quickly caught the ends of the tent curtains.

Blitzo angrily dropped the flower and the card to the ground, not noticing the flames licking up the tent and racing to the top. The imps inside screamed and scattered in every direction. Beer bottles crashed to the ground. Green, blue, and purple horses with flames for their manes and tails galloped from the flames as fast as they could, plumes of feathers on their heads.

Teen Blitzo stood outside the tent in disbelief as more imps screamed and ran for their lives. Fizzarolli peered under a tent flap and spotted boxes of fireworks and dynamite.

The flames reached the box of explosives, and a loud BOOM rang through the smoky air. Fizzarolli and Blitzo were forcefully knocked back.

“AARRGHH!”

Blitzo covered the right side of his face…now charred from the fire.

But as he looked down, he saw something…or someone that shattered his soul.

Lying on the ground was his dear friend Fizzarolli. He screamed and cried tears as flames burned his body. His horns were reduced to stubs and flesh burned off his long extending arms, reaching desperately for Blitzo.

Blitzo stepped back, still clutching his face. How in the world was he supposed to help?

“Blitz!” Fizzarolli pleaded in pain. “HELP ME, PLEASE!”

Blitzo was about to reach for him…

…but a shrilling scream sent a chill through him. A scream that was all too familiar.

“MOM!”

Blitzo rushed ahead without looking back.

“BLITZ!”

Fizzarolli pleaded one last time before losing consciousness.

Blitzo maneuvered around the emerald-colored flames. He looked to his left and saw several imps trying to put out the fire.

He looked to his right…and heard the screeching neighs of the circus horses, their skeletal faces illuminated by green.

The screaming was beginning to fade, but Blitzo kept running.

He soon reached the spot where he heard her…

Nothing.

No trace of Tilla.

There was nothing left except her little red pendant with two black eye-shaped holes.

Blitzo clutched it tightly in his hands. A nearby picture of a smiling Tilla, Blitzo and Barbie Wire with “Us” and a heart at the bottom was quickly engulfed in flames.

“MOMMA! M-MOOOM! NO, NO, NO, NO, SHIT!”

Blitzo sobbed and coughed as he moved ahead.

When the flames were mostly put out, Blitzo could see the lifeless bodies of the circus horses…his beloved animals he and Fizzarolli used to ride during their shows.

In the distance, nurses and firefighter imps hurried to the scene. Fizzarolli was carefully placed on a stretcher and whisked away to the hospital.

No sooner had Blitzo turned around…

“ARRGH!”

His father slapped him hard in the face.

Blitzo flinched away as Cash Buckzo grabbed his collar, hard.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“Father, I-I didn’t do anything!”

“LIES!” he bellowed, fighting a stream of tears from his eyes. He jabbed his son hard in the chest. “You started this fire! You killed my precious Tilla, you practically killed my star imp and worst of all, my circus is ruined!”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR!”

“You’ve been a thorn in my side since the very beginning! You really think you’re worthy enough to be my son at this point? I taught you how to survive in this world, how to steal, perform, and THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?!”

“Y-you never cared about me!” Blitzo squeaked. “You only care about yourself!”

“I care about this greater family. And based on your reckless act, you obviously do not. And your sister…you don’t give a fuck about her either?”

Blitzo glanced at a shadow in the distance. A downcast Barbie Wire approaching; long curly black horns with white stripes, worn striped dress, but luckily no burns.

Barbie Wire went over to her father and sobbed into his arms. Cash Buckzo spoke lowly to her, then she, too, glared at her brother.

“Y-you, you did this?”

“Barb, no, I didn’t! I didn’t! It was an accident.”

“Where’s Momma?”

Blitzo stared sadly at his feet.

Barbie Wire seethed and leaned toward his face.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

“G-g-gone,” Blitzo stuttered, his voice cracking. “I tried to save her…”

“But you didn’t!”

Barbie Wire sighed. She turned to her father.

“What do we do, now?”

Cash Buckzo sighed. “Check on Fizz, rebuild from scratch. Try to impress Mammon enough to maybe get a stable budget. You’ll be my new star. Your brother…is no longer welcome here.”

“What?!” Blitzo cried.

Cash Buckzo whirled around.

“YOU HEARD ME, YOU SISSY EXCUSE OF A SON! You are no longer welcome in this circus, this family. Leave us.”

Blitzo hesitated.

Cash Buckzo growled, “NOW!” He turned around and angrily stomped away.

Barbie Wire wiped her eyes with her arm and began to turn around.

Blitzo reached out to her in desperation.

“Barbie, please, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave…”

“I don’t wanna see you again…ever.” Her voice cracked. “I…I have to stay with Dad. Goodbye, brother.”

Blitzo slumped in defeat and fell to his knees under the darkened sky. The figures of his father and sister faded into the distance.

At the hospital, Blitzo saw Fizzarolli resting in his bed, covered with bandages from head to toe.

“He’s still alive…barely,” a doctor mentioned.

“Oh thank, Satan,” Cash Buckzo sighed. “Hopefully he should be back on stage in a few months.”

Blitzo rushed over toward his friend.

Cash Buckzo blocked his way with a glare.

“I told you that you are no longer welcome here.”

“Father, please, let me see him, just a few minutes!”

“Let the gem of my business meet with reckless scum like you? Out of the question.”

“He’s my friend!”

“Not anymore. You’ll never see him again under my watch!”

Cash Buckzo snapped his fingers. Blitzo struggled in vain as two imp doctors led him out of the room.

“Fizz! Fizz, No! Let go of me!”

Blitzo’s thoughts pounded in his head:

 “Your poor sister…look where she ended up because of you. You took away her home…her future…and her family.”

Barbie Wire had been reduced to a drug addict. A rehab patient. A drug trafficker and a groomer of a human male teen.

She had all been a forgotten character.

“BARBIE?!”

“BLITZ?!”

Barbie Wire’s fuming face appeared as another memory surfaced.

“What the fuck are you doing here, shithead?” she snapped.

“I should be asking you the same thing!” cried Blitzo. “You check yourself out of rehab, no call, no note…and I have to track you down to this shithole with...who the fuck is this?”

She shoved Jimmy aside.

“No one…he works for me. And who’s the little twink here?”

Blitzo glanced at Moxxie. “No one. He works for me.”

“Sir! That guy’s the target!” Moxxie exclaimed.

“Oh shit, Barb! Looks like your little boy toy got himself into some trouble.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“He killed our client, and now our client wants to kill him back.”

“You fucking WHAT?!” Barbie Wire glared at Jimmy.

“He found out about your drugs.”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, kid.” She glared at her brother. “Look, you’re not killing my supplier.”

“Oh fuck, supplier of what? You’re not back on that H-8, are you?”

“FUCK NO! It’s just heroin!”

“Oh, thank Satan! So now you’re peddling heroin? What’s the point? That shit barely gets rid of a headache!”

“It’s honest work, okay? And I thought it would be sure to keep me as far away from you as possible.”

“So you teamed up with genius here, because?” Moxxie asked.

 Barbie Wire smirked. “Do you have any idea how easy teenage humans are to manipulate?”

“Hey! No, I’m not!” Jimmy protested.

Barbie Wire wiggled her butt at him. “Oh Jimmy-wimmy, can you pwease keep loading up deez dwuggie-wuggies for me?”

“Heh. Sure Barb, whatever you say.”

“Sir…I’ve spent a week on this, I’m finishing it, one way or another,” Moxxie waved his knife.

“Don’t you dare!” Barbie Wire growled. “Come on, Blitzo! Haven’t you fucked my life enough already?!”

After a long fight in the boathouse, a rocket smashed through the window and exploded against Jimmy’s head, raining blood onto Blitzo, Moxxie, and Barbie Wire.

“SATAN FUCKING DAMMIT!” Barbie Wire yelled. “Thanks a lot, Blitzo, I’m out of a job! FUCK!” She stomped away.

“Barb, wait! I want to help you! Let me help you. Please? You’re clean now, right? Let’s…grab dinner, we’ll catch up and we’ll talk about…”

Barbie Wire laughed forcefully. “You don’t fucking GET IT!”

She got into his face. “Just cause I’m outta rehab doesn’t mean I wanna see you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU EVER!”

She created a portal with her Asmodean crystal on her wrist.

“Next time you wanna find me Blitzo…DON’T!”

She vanished back to the Sloth Ring.

Blitzo choked and sobbed as hot red blood raced down his arm. He felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He looked around, but no one was there.

He blinked several times, breath shaking…

…and cried out as the red blood turned black.

The movie theater came back into focus…

…and Rolando was sinking his teeth deep into his shoulder.

“NO! STOP! LET ME GO!”

Rolando looked up with an evil grin, licking the black blood around his lips. “Oh sorry,” he mocked. “Your despair was so delicious, so I had to start feeding on you. You barely noticed, poor thing…”

“Blitz?!”  called a voice from outside. It was Millie. She raced over to the unconscious Blitzo. “Blitz!”

“Looks like someone’s trying to ruin our good time,” Rolando mused next to him. He briefly stroked Blitzo’s chin with a claw before morphing into liquid shadow and rematerializing in front of the screen.

“That was a nice heart to heart you had earlier.” He looked back at Blitzo with a mischievous grin.  “Be a shame if you ruined it like you always do.”

He turned into liquid again and black waves washed over the seats. Fog obscured the screen and cold black liquid crept up Blitzo’s body. He felt like he was suffocating, his eyes getting heavy…

…the pressure making him surrender…

“Blitz, are you okay?!”

No sooner had Millie gotten her words out when Blitzo’s arm landed a hard punch to her face of its own accord. He felt like a puppet with invisible strings controlling his body.

Millie rubbed her face with a hand, sitting against the pillar she had crashed into. She looked up in fear as a shadow rose over her. Blitzo’s upper half rose up solely like a zombie. His eyes were yellow and blank, his teeth abnormally sharp. Even his tongue had turned an unnatural shade of yellow-green.

Rolando’s distorted voice vibrated eerily from Blitzo’s throat.

“Oh, the filthy little Wrathian wants to help!”

Millie darted out of the way before Rolando crashed Blitzo’s head into the pillar where she had been moments before. Blitzo’s head cocked to the side as he looked at her.

“You can’t help anyone, you’re just the muscle, remember? It’s all you and your imp kind are good for. You said it yourself.”

Possessed Blitzo raced forward to attack.

Millie stepped back and avoided his quick jabs.

“I’m in his mind, bitch! I see everything!”

He wrapped Blitzo’s tail around her, tossing her to the ground. He hoisted himself upside down with a grin, Millie barely avoiding his foot which crashed into the ground.  

“Every thought, every opinion, and boy…does he have some nasty shit to say about you!”

He grabbed her wrists and twirled her around in a dance. He headbutted her hard, laughing as she stumbled backwards.

Before Millie knew it, Rolando had grabbed her wrist again and tossed her over the pool, where she slid to a stop on the floor on her back. She flinched at the pain, trying to stand up.

Rolando posed with a grin and a hand under his chin.

“NO! STOP!” Blitzo cried, tears falling down his face in his seat.

“Your level of insecurity is intoxicating,” Rolando mused, licking his lips. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you drive away the one person left who puts up with your bullshit.”

Rolando controlled Blitzo’s body again, diving under the water and leaping into the air with gaping jaws.

“He thinks you’re a brute!”

Rolando smashed Millie into another pillar.  

“Too stupid to do anything but kill!”

He spun around another pillar and leaped toward her, his feet extended. She blocked his attack with her arm.

“You never should’ve left the farm!” Rolando added, leaping forward, Millie avoiding him.

Millie kept blocking his attacks with her arms in front of her. Rolando kept swinging Blitzo’s fists.

“You’re nothing but a backwards, filthy, inbred, lowborn fucking hick!”

“Ya done?” Millie asked, grinning, holding his fist with her hand.

Rolando paused.

“No…”

He glanced at Blitzo’s shoulder, and a slow evil smile appeared.

“…but I think your boss may be.”

Back in Blitzo’s mind theater, Rolando bit down into Blitzo’s neck, hard. A sickening crunch was followed by Blitzo’s pained cries.

Millie stepped back and gasped. Black blood trailed down from Blitzo’s shoulder and neck from wounds slowly appearing on his possessed body.

“Ohh, I don’t think little ‘Bethany’ can last much longer in his head. When someone sees their memories too long…”

Rolando chuckled darkly as Millie kicked him, tripping him onto the floor.

Millie landed more punches, which Rolando blocked.

“…that’s when I drain them dry!”

“GET OUT OF HIM RIGHT NOW!” Millie fumed, teeth bared, eyes wide. She snarled and punched him hard in the gut several times.

“Blitz can handle this, combover!” Millie yelled, punching him again. She slammed Rolando into the wall, landing a deep hit to his stomach. He groaned.

“Nobody cares about you or what you want. They’re too caught up in their own misery to even remember you exist.”

“Buckle up, buttercup!” she barked, slapping him in the face. “Your words don’t mean shit to me!”

After several more hits, Rolando slid to the floor.

Millie raised another fist, and Rolando moved to the side. Millie kept going.

“I’M GONNA BEAT YOU OUTTA HIM YOU FISH-FACED SHITBAG!”

More wounds appeared on Blitzo’s body. Millie’s arms trembled and she froze.

Rolando breathed heavily, cracking Blitzo’s neck. “Are you sure you want to hurt him more now? Even if you get me out…he probably won’t stand a chance.”

Blitzo sobbed some more as more memories flashed before him…

Robo Fizz mocking him in Loo-Loo Land…

Verosika Mayday breaking up with him after he had stolen her credit card and her glaring at him at Ozzie’s…

Moxxie and Millie kissing on Earth, making Blitzo feel left out…

Loona growling at him at the beach and on Earth after finding Octavia…

Stolas handing him the Asmodean crystal, walking back up the stairs to his palace, signifying their breakup…

Blitzo moving his hand away from Stolas at Ozzie’s…

Stolas and a male pink incubus tongue kissing at the anti-Blitzo party…

Stolas, Verosika and Vortex singing about how they hated him…

Stolas sobbing at the party…

Millie berating him for his costume and behavior…

Rolando pounded thoughts into his head that hurt about as much as the wounds…

“You’re a sad little imp boy craving attention when you only deserve the worst kind…”

“You ruined your sister’s life and your best friend…”

“Stolas would never come back to see a riffraff thief such as you…”

“Loona and your co-workers don’t care about you…”

“You make everyone’s lives worse!”

“What would Tilla think of you now?!”

“NOOOO!”

Soon, Blitzo couldn’t tell whether the thoughts were Rolando’s or his own. His vision blurred through his tears as Rolando chewed into his chest and lapped eagerly at his blood.

“SNAP OUT OF IT, BLITZ!” Millie pleaded. She had to get Rolando out of Blitzo…fast.

Millie lifted Rolando up and slammed him hard to the ground. He lifted his head, but Millie landed a mighty kick to his chin. He fell backwards and hit his head. Blitzo’s head hung over the side of the pool. Rolando poured out from Blitzo’s mouth in black liquid, disappearing into the water.

Blitzo groaned and opened his eyes. He sat up.

“Ugh, good work, Mils.”

Millie accidentally punched him in the face.

“Oh-ho! AH FUCK! IT’S ME!” Blitzo glared.

Millie covered her mouth. “Oh! Shit, sorry!” She chuckled and leaned down beside him. “Good to have you back, boss.”

Blitzo suddenly screamed as clawed arms pulled him backwards into the water.

“BLITZ!”  Millie cried, diving in after him. She kicked Rolando away and grabbed hold of Blitzo and reached the surface, steading him upright.

Holding Blitzo with one arm, she swam as fast as she could over to the step ladder on the side of the pool.

Rolando rose up menacingly into the air and hovered over onto the floor.

Another sinister smirk crawled up his face as he noticed Blitzo’s ghostfucker device off to the side. The device hovered a few inches in the air and moved to a stop by his feet.

Realization came to Millie’s wide eyes, and she swam at full speed, dragging the semi-conscious Blitzo with her.

Rolando kicked the ghostfucker device in and electricity raced across the water.

Blitzo and Millie screamed as the electricity raced through their bodies. Black blood oozed from their eyes and their heads reared back.

Their screams soon ceased and with a sickening finality, their bodies sank to the bottom of the pool.

Rolando’s grinning reflection swayed in the water. He leaned his head back and bellowed out malevolent laughter.

“THE TIDES HAVE TURNED ON YOU, LITTLE RED FUCKS!”

[raayllum]

...? so if we swap out the immortal character for say, I don't know, a 60 yr old, someone older than both Viren and Claudia and maintaining the same power imbalance and you still don't see the difference shipping a 60/unspecified middle aged person versus a 60 yr old/19 (met at 17) yr old then I don't know man - like I get it yada yada it's fiction I don't care for them either but to pretend one isn't more problematic than the other, for like common sense reasoning, is a little silly

I don't know how to tell you this, but age gaps 1) aren't inherently bad and 2) what can make them bad/worrisome is the power imbalance, typically between men in their late 20s and girls in their late teens, that the age gap can bring in terms of maturity, life experience, and manipulation tactics. All things that Aaravos has over both Viren and Claudia somewhat equally. He's been more outright manipulatory towards Claudia, but he also quite literally has Viren's whole ass life in his hands to treat like a toy. So it kinda evens out there, if you ask me

Also will reaffirm in my tags: I grew up reading greek myth. Aaravos is literally thousands of years old, yet appears to be like, maybe in his 30s-40s (it's hard to tell because no visible signs of aging, but he's definitely more adult than young adult leaning). And if you grow up reading greek myth, gods are banging mortals left and right under extremely or outright non con situations (hi Zeus and Apollo in particular). I also read "Wuthering Heights" (one of the most fucked up quasi-half sibling relationships ever) and "Jane Eyre" (18 yr old girl and her 40 yr old employer) while getting my degree in how fiction can, or when it doesn't, influence reality, how views on age gaps and even incest has changed in society and fiction over time (the Victorians idealized a lot of weird stuff but we also get a lot of their moral hangups regarding sex in general).

Aaravos is not like a '60 year old man'. There is no real world equivalent. This shit happens every single time there's a vampire or god or angel or mortal shit (which errs towards teens, bc YA, but is also there in Adult fiction) but like. You think that immortal being is cognizant of a human being 15 vs a human being 30? You think they have any solid comprehension of what that lifespan is like? You think Aaravos gives a shit as to Viren in his 40s (which, how would death aging work anyway?) vs Claudia being basically 20 when Aaravos is thousands of years old?

TLDR; I get that age gaps on a base level can make people uncomfortable, but that sort of reading requires and engages with zero critical thinking skills, because it's the power imbalance that that kind of age gap can help facilitate that's the issue, not solely the age gap itself. Same as to how most toxic/unhealthy relationships, regardless of the ages of people in them, also have power imbalances, because that's what makes it unhealthy. And the unhealthiness of the ship can sometimes be precisely why people like it, even if it isn't my cup of tea, but I don't have to get up on my moral high horse about it

I think it's a little silly to buy into rhetoric that pushes far right conservative moral panics, sorry

[unluckyxse7en]

Tell me about that book you read as a kid that made a strange and specific impression on your psyche?

(Sorry I didn't answer this sooner!! I was Stuck on it and then forgot 😭 )

(Edit: FUCKER GOT HIDDEN IN MY DRAFTS BASED ON WHEN I GOT THE ASK, NOT WHEN I SAVED IT SO I THOUGHT I LOST IT, SORRY IT'S EVEN LATER...)

I came up with a few books that might've qualified for this - "Freedom" by Angela Dorsey (one of many horse girl books, of the ghost horse variety) or "The Fire Within" by Chris D'Lacey (one of many dragon books - and I think my selection alone speaks volumes about me lmao)...

I think I've decided to talk about "House of Stairs" instead, by William Sleator. It might be an easy answer because it WAS strange and specific as books go, but it's one that's always consciously stuck with me whereas the other two books I think informed me on a creative subconscious level more than anything.

Full disclaimer - everything written from here on is based on dim recollection. I read it just once in middle school, a time I barely recall at all, and some elements are probably distorted/wrong based on how I envisioned things. But I'm writing it as is because it is SUCH a strong memory even if it's off in places, and I think that more precisely answers the heart of this question than if I pulled up a summary online and described it from that.

I'm also hoping to find a physical copy to own at some point, so part of this is because I'll be interested to come back to this and see how much I described poorly or entirely wrongly.

So that said. House of Stairs.

"House of Stairs" is, in essence, a story about sociological experimentation - the focus of the book is on several teens who get trapped in a labyrinthine space that lives up to the book's title, a reference to the M.C. Escher painting of the same name:

You can already see how this is the "easy" answer for a strange, specific impression.

The building they're trapped in is all white, stairs going up and down no matter how far you look - or go. They're trapped with no discernable exits and no resources, for unknown reasons and an indeterminable amount of time.

So then comes the actual experiments.

Aside from stairs, stairs, and more stairs, there ARE landings, here and there - and some of those landings have little stations with buttons on them. As the kids discover, if you push the button, you get food.

...Until suddenly, you don't.

Then the kids have to sort out, is it broken? Can they wait until it gets fixed? Should they try to fix it themselves or go elsewhere in search of the exit?

This leads to many things - heightened emotions, thoughts and theories, tension, arguments - until suddenly they're rewarded with food again.

Well. No one pushed the button, what happened this time?

And so it goes on, until it becomes clear - the stations are conditioning them, training them with rewards to silent tasks fulfilled. And as the book goes, the kids divide into camps - those who want to listen implicitly to the station, and those who don't. The station starts rewarding harmful behaviors to boot, to see just how far they're willing to go, so the focus of the book narrows to the protagonists who search for a way out.

The book is a YA novel so it ends with them finding the way out of course, being recognized for staying strong and finding a way out, and of course the innate reward of getting out despite the adversity. But the premise of this book itself stuck the strongest with me.

It raises questions like, what if that were to happen to me? What would it take? It's easy to claim you'd be strong-willed and find a way out, only because by knowing the book you know a way out exists. But in practice it's much harder, especially without that knowledge. How long would I last, would I immediately fall into the camp that follows the prompts? Would I resist but fall to its sway? Or, would I fall to the enemy camp, once it became clear they wouldn't get rewarded otherwise?

Sad thing is, as fantastical as the space itself sounds with its descriptions - almost akin to a white void with stairs stretching forever - the overall concept of a space being created for such a purpose doesn't even strike me as all that out there, and I think that suggests it's definitely left an impact on how I view the world.

It's just outlandish enough, and yet there's people all the time who would do such a horrendous thing, in the name of research... or perhaps even just their own amusement.

Honestly I barely remember the ending - how they got out, life after. In a manner of speaking, I think I too got trapped in the house of stairs - only unlike the characters I'm still stuck there, poking around the place and contemplating just how much - or little - it'd take for someone to create such a thing in reality.

Hopefully that answers the question in a satisfying way ^^; I was stuck on this for a bit since, as mentioned before, a lot of my childhood has been lost to memory issues - it was hard determining what books impacted me how, when I barely recall what I was like before reading it, you know?

[literaticat]

In publisher’s weekly and some other publications, I’ve seen it more than once said by librarians that there’s a need for books for that black hole of an age range of 14-15, and a need for shorter books for the MG category. I think the article described some MG books as being as thick as your palm.

So, if we’re hearing these cries-- what does it take for publishers to hear the cries too?

(I realized after I pressed send on this that It's REALLY long and rambly -- even more so than usual -- probably because I am procrastinating packing for a trip I'm taking in an HOUR. SORRY!)

*

Publishers hear them.

It might surprise you to know that publishers actually DO publish books for 14-15 -- they are generally called in parlance "upper MG" or "lower YA" (or sometimes if somebody is feeling cutesie, "tween") -- unfortunately it's a little hard for people to FIND those books because, well, in the US at least, there isn't any place in the bookstore specifically for them. And there are fewer school librarians and others to do readers advisory to show kids (and adults!) where they are.

In the UK, as I understand it, bookstores sort of go "Children's - Teen - YA" and what WE consider "upper MG/lower YA" is "teen", and their YA is the saucier older stuff. This is smart, because a lot of times, kids of 8-12 ARE really strong readers, and WANT to get into more sophisticated fare and "read up", but they really AREN'T ready for, or even interested in, the sex-drugs-rock-and-roll of the older YA. (Hell, I don't even know that I'M ready for it sometimes lol). And kids who are 13-14-15 may want to read books about kids who are, you know, their own age, going through authentic middle school and early high school stuff -- but MANY of those kids are not remotely close to having boyfriends/girlfriends, worrying about their gap year before college or whatever.

SO ANYWAY - those books do exist, though I agree there could be even more. However, there's a discoverability problem, because if nobody KNOWS how to find them and they just have to troll through the MG or YA section trying to randomly figure out which MG books are a little more sophisticated and which YA are a little less sophisticated, like, they are going to give up.

Well, why don't BOOKSTORES just CREATE A SECTION then, and publishers can publish books labeled SPECIFICALLY FOR THAT SECTION? Yeah, I don't know. As I said, that seems like the elegant solution. The thing is, I think that a lot of times people chafe at "over labeling" things. Like if I say "this book is for 8-10, this book is for 10-13, this book is for 14+" and actually put prescriptive LABELS on them saying that, it's almost like "rating" the book or telling kids "you HAVE to read this level of book" when they are really ready for or want something different.

There ARE good reasons to keep "MG" and "YA" as broad categories that can encompass LOTS of kinds of books, rather than getting super granular. The kids section has always been a big tent where LOTS of kinds of books fit, regardless of genre, supposed age range, etc -- Like when I was 10 I very happily read Babysitters Club AND Sweet Valley High AND Judy Blume's YA fare AND Beatrix Potter AND Pippi Longstocking (not to mention Stephen King and VC Andrews!).

As for lengthy books: The fact is that big fat commercial series and such DO often sell better than quiet, introspective and short books. So those chonkers are also what they push the hardest and what people are likely to know about. (Not to mention, they are the most visible and take up the most LITERAL real estate on the shelves). So it can be hard to see the "little" books about 13 year olds going through friendship crises when there are 1000 giant books about cats having wars etc. They ARE there, though there could and should be more! (Yes, even though shorter books are published -- ALL books should be shorter, IMO -- and I think some publishers would agree).

I dunno, there's lots to unpack here and it's an interesting conversation for sure. As far as creating a new category -- it's tough. (Just look at the trajectory of "New Adult" to see how tough!)

I just think that it's bigger than "oh publishers can just decide this" on a dime -- there's actually several groups that would need to get on board (educators, librarians, booksellers, AND *all* Publishers) and likely an education campaign for readers and parents that would have to happen, yadda yadda, and it's above my paygrade!

[classicalliberalleague]

Thoughts on climate change? If I remember correctly maybe one of you thought it was fake in the past

Fake,no, but I think a more fair statement is that we think it’s typically been bad science relying too much on correlation equals causation.

That the climate is changing, I don’t think we’ve ever denied it (I can’t remember every post we’ve made, but if we were inarticulate about something it was unintentional, the climate is changing but the media for it is often done by idiots and we might have gotten impassioned in ranting against their idiocy). We may have pointed out that greater hurricane damage is more because you have more idiots building in areas with poor drainage than because of climate change; we might have pointed out that the predictions are always childishly apocalyptic and certainly that without this little thing called falsifiable testing its hard to call it science (common sense certainly, but not science). But I don’t think we’ve ever outright denied climate change.

Now, I will still argue that the argument that is 100% man-made and 0% part of a natural cycle is imbecilic, but it would be equally preposterous to argue that human beings have nothing to do with this.

But more importantly, I think the arguments that have been made over the last 40 years by the people screaming about global warming have had very little to do with wanting to help the environment.

For decades, we have been able to prove that air pollution lowers in the short term and possibly in the long term the IQ of children. Those results can be tested and repeated (like real science)…but the environmental groups never went with that kind of argument that would have driven middle-class suburban parents to demand immediate change en masse. Why? Because that wouldn’t leave the people in a position to still make money. (https://www.calhealthreport.org/2018/01/31/teen-exposure-air-pollution-reduce-iq-levels-long-term/#:~:text=These%20particles%20are%20about%2030,1%20point%2C%20the%20researchers%20found.) But, no, no, let’s just describe the future like a bad YA dystopian novel, not in deal with actual health problems in the here and now.

Same with nuclear power. It is far and away the safest, cleanest, and most efficient form of electrical power available (fusion will likely take that position in a few years). But the environmental movement is usually opposed to it because it would actually solve things. We should have replaced every last coal plant with nuclear power in the industrialized world decades ago, but we didn’t.

At this point, with rising temperatures, we should at least be attempting methods like releasing sulfur into the upper atmosphere (https://www.cnn.com/2023/02/12/world/solar-dimming-geoengineering-climate-solution-intl/index.html) on a global but controlled basis to see if it has any effect. But aside from some silly startup that won’t ever have the resources to do enough, no one is doing anything about this.

Oh, and I feel we quote Milton Friedman enough around here to remind you that Milton was the one who came up with the carbon tax. Now, certainly, I have many technical problems with the way it has been presented, but I don’t have a problem with it in theory. (If you want to quibble about details, you’ll have to tell me specifically which proposed version you like).

What won’t work is pushing ethanol (which causes tons of pollutants to be released because of fertilizer) or relying on solar or wind (which are still not effective and efficient for long periods of time).

Now, I am not suggesting some evil cabal. I am suggesting merely good old-fashioned short-term greed by individuals. Just as it can be shown, tests for drug efficiency seem to always come in favor of the drug when paid for by the drug maker but less often when paid for by an independent group (even when the testers supposedly are kept in the dark about funding)…I think that people studying climate science know that if there is a solution, then they are out of a job, so they have no incentive to give accurate or reasonable projections or to provide solutions that will work. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0141076820914242 Very few people will argue to eliminate their job.

The earth is getting warmer. This means we should build nuclear power plants, put in a carbon tax that works, move to hybrid and then electric cars, and attempt geoengineering…because telling people to drive less and lower the thermostat is not going to work, nor is giving Mad Max style predictions.