#neil knew exactly what he was doing making characters that hot okay!?!?!?!?

[strangerthings1975]

I have a few questions about writing sorry if there are too many:

Do you have any pre writing rituals? What do you write on (online)? Do you take a lot of notes (online or otherwise) or go with the flow? Did you plan every chapter before writing them? Do you write with background noise (music/shows/any sound at all)? Do you plan the time you will upload or just when you’ve finished (morning or evening)? How long does it take to write a chapter? How long does it take to edit a chapter? Do you edit as you go along? Do you read your fics after you’ve uploaded? Do you wish you’d of put things in other places (earlier or later in the story) ? Is there any parts that you wish where more of a story than they are (more in-depth than you went)? Do you have someone read before you upload?

Sorry I know it’s a lot but I’m really into learning writing processes right now, hope it’s okay to ask. Thank you.

Hello! This question is no bother at all. I don’t mind. 🖤🖤🖤

I have no ritual tbh. I just open a word document and start. I use Microsoft Word. Mostly I have an idea to begin with and no serious plan, but then once I get a little deeper into it and connect with the characters and the story more, the idea evolves and gets more complex. So then at that time I’ll stop and make a plan and figure out exactly where I want things to go and then start finetuning the writing to steer in that direction.

Like idk if you’ve read MPG, but for that it was just: I want Eddie to suck Steve’s dick through a glory hole. Then I was like okay, how is that gonna happen? Where is this hole? Why is Steve there? Then to answer those questions I developed some context, and then it was like oh, well how does Steve find out about the glory hole so he can actually proposition Eddie? So then I had Neil come into play, and he was only ever just supposed to be a random guy. Never planned for any drama. Never planned for Hellfire Club or Corroded Coffin to be a part of anything or for any other plot shit. It was just supposed to be 30k or so. Very quick. But then as I continued writing, I unearthed the need for Steve’s character arc and for Eddie to be more complex, and then I thought hmm maybe I should use the Hargroves as active villains and not just background fillers. And toyed with whether Steve should tell the truth about Neil sooner or later, couldn’t actually decide… And then Eddie offering Steve FWB was sooo unplanned. Didn’t know I was doing it until Eddie said the words. And then I was like okay we’re doing this now, so let’s connect dots/figure out how long it’s going to go on and what sex acts they’ll exchange and where. How much further will they bond before Eddie has enough? And around that time I was like okay I need a more concrete plan to work towards so I plotted out the next chapters but very vaguely. Like I knew I needed a fight. Couldn’t decide if it would take place when Eddie and Steve were together or when they were apart. Couldn’t decide which Hargrove it would be and why exactly but knew if it was going to be Billy I had to show him being at the Hideout once or twice before the fight night so it wouldn’t seem too convenient he was there. Which meant I had to find a place for Eddie to slip that detail. And I didn’t know what I wanted Neil’s fate to be. So I had to consider that. And also didn’t know when the rejection would be or how, just knew I needed Eddie’s hot and cold behaviour to come to a head. So it was probably around when I was writing Chapter 16/17 that I knew the Neil secret reveal and Steve’s love confession were going to be a 2 for 1. Initially was going to have it separate. You know so basically what I’m saying is I planned milestone events—sort of. But had no real idea of what the hell was going to happen most times. The characters like to do their own thing and surprise me. Which can be irritating.

Every chapter takes a different amount of time to write. The early ones (1-18) were sooo fast because I was extremely excited and all my ideas were flowing. Like I worked on each chapter for probably like a couple hours each evening after work, then alllll day Saturday/Sunday and that allowed me to update nearly once a week. But then my mental health took a huge hit, and chapter 20 was hard for me to write because it was my first time with such angst. I rewrote the breakup scene about four times. Ever since around that time (October) my mental health has been awful, so writing anything has been taking hours and hours of work because forming ideas and flow is like crawling uphill. It’s taken me approx. 3 weeks to get 3500 words written of chapter 26 for comparison. When I wrote basically the first 12 chapters in that same time.

I edit as I go too which is a habit I’m trying to break because it can be extremely disruptive. Like I’ll edit some sentences a few times until I get it just right. Especially the dialogue because it’s my favourite thing, and it’s important to me. But then once a chapter is done I’ll edit it again, and then maybe decide to add a scene, so then I’ll read the chapter again with that scene added, and then I’ll read it again like dozens more times and keep hacking at it or beefing it up until I feel satisfied. I don’t press the publish button lightly lmao. But despite all this effort I always always find typos in my work when I reread it later. Again, poor mental health makes this process gruelling because I hate everything and can’t tell if it’s actually good or bad. So I can’t trust my instinct. (Do not write when your mental health is bad. Seriously. I am a cautionary tale.)

So yes I do read my work after it’s posted. But mostly just to get the flow of the story before I start working on the next chapter. I did it with MPG at first. But then it got so long that I haven’t read it back for a while. If I’m talking about a certain thing or referencing old shit, my good memory helps with that. I’ll just CTRL-F a certain word to see when the last time they spoke about something was and how they spoke about it just to avoid redundancy and maintain consistency. But usually by the time I finish a work I’ve put so much effort into it I’m tired of looking at it. So it won’t be a while until I read them over again for actual enjoyment. I’m very hard on myself too and when I reread old work all I see is errors and things I could’ve changed. So I try not to torture myself like that.

I don’t plan the time I upload really. Just whenever a chapter is done and I think, okay I can’t even stand to look at this shit anymore… I post it. I don’t like to hold onto it. But I often regret it. Because the next day I’ll get an idea and think fuck I should’ve included that. But if that happens I just go back and edit the chapter right on ao3. It’s never anything major. Just little nitpicky things. But that answers your other question too. There is ALWAYS something I would change if I could go back in time. For this reason I won’t be posting WIPs anymore until I have them done, then I’ll just release one chapter at a time or post the whole thing at once. I’ve learned it the hard way unfortunately.

And no, I don’t have anyone read it before I post. I probably should because I know it would help me improve and give me new perspectives, and a few people have offered but I’m too insecure. Also too much of a control freak. It would irritate me if someone told me to change something, and then I’d wonder if I’m a useless failure who just shouldn’t bother writing anymore if they told me an idea I had wasn’t quite working… so best to avoid that.

My main process is just reading stuff to my mom (the non explicit shit) and asking her if it sounds right. And sometimes if I’m caught between a few choices I’ll ask her what she thinks is best to do. Sometimes she gives me answers and then I know what I *don’t* want to do. Which is helpful. Or if I read something that doesn’t sit well with me but I can’t tell why, I’ll highlight it to come back to.

And also I listen to music only. I’m not a tv on in the background kind of girl. If the tv is on I need to watch it. I don’t have specific playlists. Just whatever is the vibe. Like this is the vibe right now:

[femalevil]

neil after reading the things fans are writing:

Those of you writing explicit Sandman fic are brave, brave souls 🫡

[writingpuddle]

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Nicky asked, digging in his pack for a chocolate bar. To their left, the cliff dropped away precipitously, sheer granite cliffs like sentinels at the end of the world.

Neil stared at Nicky. “No,” he said.

“What, never?”

Neil looked out across the sweeping vista of mountains before them. A speck that could have been a hawk or a raven or a sparrow spun against the sky, too small and distant to judge. He’d stood in the middle of busy cities; he’d gone to school with hundreds; he’d even tried out for a track and field team once. He’d been surrounded by people, and he had been so ferociously lonely it had been like a knife in his chest.

“No,” he said, because he didn’t know how to explain—didn’t even want to, really. He’d felt more alone back in the so-called real world than he’d ever felt in the wilderness, miles from any other person. When there was no one around, there was no one to miss.

~~~The Long-Distance Hiker AU (A Bullet Point Fic)~~~

So after Neil’s mom died he kinda of ghosted around for a while and eventually ended up in a small hiking town in California

He met a bunch of thru hikers and figured, hey, my dad probably won’t find me if I’ve fucked off into the wilderness

So he starts hiking

And pretty soon he realizes it’s the best thing he could imagine

He spends all summer in the mountains and when winter rolls around he finds a temporary job in a skiing town working in a second hand gear shop

He’s an ultralighter in the most accidental sense possible

His gear is weird and cobbled together and his shoes are held together with dental floss

He sleeps under a tarp with a down blanket and a thin foam mat and he’ll eat the same shit day in day out without even registering it while he covers frankly obscene distances every single day

It basically gives Kevin an ulcer

Kevin’s an ultralighter, but in the stuck up, rich bitch way; his gear is probably worth thousands of dollars and he’ll lecture anyone who listens about ripstop nylon and is super snobby and elitist about who is a so-called “real” thru hiker (hint: anyone who doesn’t do it his way isn’t a real thru hiker)

(don’t worry he’ll get smacked around a little by people like Dan and stop being such a little bitch about it but he grew up rich so even though it might’ve been shit living with Riko he really doesn’t always take into consideration the context of how much fucking money gear costs when he’s preaching about ultralighting)

(yes I’m taking out my dislike for pretentious rich ultralighters on him, okay, but the difference is he’ll have character growth versus the people I met are probably still being preachy and self-important to this day)

Andrew’s like the exact opposite

His pack weighs like seventy pounds and he’ll pull a six-inch knife (a gross misuse of smart gear weight management) at anyone who comments

He has a completely contained single person tent that’s big enough to sit up in and a four-inch inflatable mattress

His sleeping bag is rated to like -20 even when he’s hiking in the summer

Nicky swears he once saw him pull a full-sized chocolate cake out of his backpack three days down the trail and everyone says that’s stupid and made up but secretly think its totally true

Andrew likes to hike alone but somehow he’s never more than a day away from Aaron and Nicky and when he keeps showing up near them it gets harder and harder to pretend like he doesn’t actually care about them

Nobody says anything, obviously, but Nicky gets a little teary when he starts to notice the pattern

It was Nicky’s idea; in this universe Erik got him into hiking when he was in Germany so he got the cousins into it as a bonding exercise and then it turned out it was the best family activity they had ever found

This is several years after they graduated and they’ve scrounged together enough time and money to hike the Pacific Crest Trail

Now the upperclassmen:

So Stephanie Walker is a trail angel: one of those people who lives near a long trail and provides snacks and rides and somewhere to stay and basically helps out anyone who comes by with whatever’s going on; she’s pulled a lot of people out of frankly dangerous situations and she’s not afraid of anything the trail has to offer

So Renee finds herself and her faith while living this life of meeting new hikers every day and it’s almost inevitable that she starts to hike and find solace in the wilderness

Allison is one of those Wild types: she’s done some hiking (much to her parents’ chagrin) but she’s never done a thru trail or even much overnighting before, but she’s ready to throw herself into it and doesn’t care how dirty she gets

She totally carries a tiny spa package though

The other women are very skeptical because they take pride in being free from societies expectations and make up and shaving but they come around after Allison pulls it out one time when they’re seven days into a ten day section and gives them face masks and they all have a little pedicure pampering session (so, so needed when your feet are being beaten and bruised by hard terrain all day)

She has a lot of new, expensive gear and is super touchy about people trying to help her (because a beautiful woman absolutely gets people trying to “help” all the time and it’s infuriating and condescending) but she learns to accept help from her closest friends

She was showing off near the beginning of the trail drinking with a bunch of guys and probably got too sloshed trying to act tough (alcohol hits you waaaay harder at high elevations dude, if you’re not expecting it you can get Fucked Up really fast)

It’s Seth who realizes things are getting out of control and pulls her out before the guys can do anything shitty which is how their friendship and eventually their relationship gets started

They piss everyone off with their constant breaking up and getting back together on the trail, sometimes hiking together for days and then splitting up and going to hike with other people but they find a lot of healing out there in the woods

Seth’s mom is totally dismissive and condescending of his hiking, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but she thinks everything he does is a stupid waste of time so at least when he’s out there without cell service he has an excuse to not respond to her

Now Dan

Dan’s trailer trash, right

She’s got no fucking cash but she has this dream in her head to hike the PCT and she’s going to fucking well do it

Her gear is probably most similar to Neil’s except where his is a mess of weird priorities and held together by spit and twine

Hers is meticulously planned

It’s cheap, some of it’s over forty years old, but it’s hers

It’s probably the only stuff in the world that’s actually hers

She accumulated it over about four years, hitting all the second-hand gear events, saving up every penny, packing and repacking and writing everything out in great detail until David Wymack got wind of her plans at a gear event

He’s one of those guys who hiked the PCT thirty years ago back before anyone knew what it was except instead of feeling superior about that it means he knows exactly how much impact experiencing the wilderness can have for disenfranchised people

He approaches Dan and offers to sponsor her hike

She’s resistant at first; she planned this hike, she got all the stuff together, she was going to do it without anyone’s help

But he comes back and says he just wants her to write about her experiences and publish it on his website

He’ll pay her for the work, of course

And she wavers and finally caves because this will move her plans up by about two years if she can make money while she’s hiking instead of having to hoard up enough cash to take six whole months off

Her blog posts are a huge hit

She doesn’t preach about how the mountains saved her, or get too metaphorical about hiking or anything like that

She just talks about the real, raw experience of hiking

The friendships, the trials, the triumphs

The infuriating people whose mental image of the hiking community doesn’t include poor black girls who grew up in a trailer park, who say she’s an inspiration like they actually mean something else

She talks about the days that she flies up the mountains and the days that she can barely drag herself out of her tent and the day she realizes that Allison and Renee, these women she thought could not be more different from her, are the best friends she’s ever had in the world

And she’s takes fucking amazing pictures

She’s also very determined not to have a trail romance

That’s stupid and cliché

Look that guy Matt might be hot but she’s not interested

He’s clearly working through some stuff and she’s not here to be some guys savior or whatever

So Matt then

His mom helped him get sober a couple years ago and he’s been struggling with it ever since

She got him into hiking as an outlet and a healthy hobby and he took to it like a fish to water

He’s got legs for days and he doesn’t mind carrying a heavy pack, he can hike for hours without stopping

(The fact that he’s faster than her pisses Dan off a bit, but sometimes you gotta accept that you’ve got short legs and just hike your own hike, there aren’t any prizes for speed)

He relapsed again a couple months before his hike started and he and Randy weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to do it but he’s damned well going to try

So anyway

Pretty much everyone is trying to actually hike the PCT except Neil

He drives everyone bonkers

His motivation isn’t really about the trail so much as staying out in the wilderness where there are no gangsters to murder you

So he just does whatever he wants and keeps showing up at random points

He’s technically got one of the thru hiker permits but he frequently goes off on side trails not on the PCT and ends up hiding out in the woods so rangers won’t find him

He’ll just hitchhike straight through boring sections or anywhere that you pass through too many towns where he’d rather not be remembered

He keeps coming back to the PCT but it’s more like it’s a rough guideline of where to go than an actual route he’s taking

He’s got his natural colouring back because who’s dying their hair or wearing fucking contacts on the trail?

But also

Who would ever associate a runaway mafia kid with a guy with overgrown hair and a stained t-shirt who’s sitting serenely on a mountain pass in a photo on David Wymack’s website?

Nobody

That’s right kids, Nathan doesn’t have a role in this one because he doesn’t find Neil

Maybe he gets killed in a shoot out or something and some other gangster steps up and takes over, and in the shuffle Neil’s just kinda forgotten

Maybe he finds out months later and he just stares at the computer in shock because he should have known, shouldn’t he? He should have felt it when his father died

He should have realized that he was free

That happens later though

Who fucking cares what Riko’s doing honestly

Kevin has somehow attached himself to Andrew and is driving him up the wall with advice to improve his hiking/base weight/distance/etc and he sees this guy (Neil) who regularly covers like thirty or forty miles a day (obscene!) and is like YES this guy is my people!

Except when he starts talking to Neil he realizes he’s this total weirdo who doesn’t even have a cook set he just eats cold food (a common enough thing among ultralighters, but not like this. Oh god, not like this)

Neil’s just sitting there gnawing on a pack of uncooked ramen like a fucking animal

And he’s not! Even! Hiking! Properly!

You’ll never finish the trail if you hike like this!

Neil just gives him a blank look

He’s got no interest on getting on some “verified” list of people who hiked the PCT, he just likes hiking

Andrew likes him

I mean obviously he despises him what the hell is with that janky ass setup but also he’s so unconventional and unapologetic how could Andrew not be into that?

They’re the kind of people who give wilderness rescue personnel grey hair, but for completely opposite reasons

Neil keeps running into them because even though he covers so much ground every day, his meandering route means he doesn’t actually move down the trail very fast

They’ll be like wait weren’t you like a week ahead of us and he’s like oh yeah I heard about this cool waterfall and took a sixty mile side trail to visit it and nearly ran into a momma bear with two cubs, it was awesome

And they all start to grow on him, and each other, almost accidentally

Look none of them are out there romanticizing the trail as some kind of magical place where the problems of the real world disappear and the people are somehow more pure and true or whatever

People are people and they bring their issues wherever they go

But there is a paring down

When your daily concerns are just mileage and shoes and food and weather, a lot of other stuff fades into the background

And well the truth is a lot of people are on those trails to work through stuff

And they find each other

Gradually, without even really noticing

They team up in June, groups of three or four with crampons and ice axes to get over the Sierra’s.

Neil was planning to just do side hikes and wait for the snow to melt—he isn’t so reckless he wants to go over the ice alone, but Kevin insists he join them and for the first time he hikes in a group with Kevin and the cousins all together.

It’s weird

He’s not used to people talking to him when he’s hiking and he frequently doesn’t respond and it’s not because he’s being rude he’s just so focussed on what he’s doing and what’s around him that he literally doesn’t hear them

And then

Nicky slips

It’s not his fault, they did nearly everything right (Kevin may be a pretentious ass, but he does know his shit) but sometimes shit just happens for no reason

And they’re at the edge of the ice sheet so Nicky’s just untying himself from the rope that links them together, he’s not even moving, and the snow beneath him shifts and he doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s hurtling down the snow below the trail towards the cliff at the bottom of the ice sheet

Neil doesn’t even hesitate

He dives after him, ice axe in one hand like a fucking gladiator and gets his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist

He slams the ice axe into the snow and it drags behind them, and it looks like it’s not going to catch, and the edge is getting closer and closer—

Until the axe catches something, and Nicky and Neil lurch to a halt, clinging to each other, hanging off of Neil’s one arm and the axe.

Neil looks up and sees Andrew, Aaron and Kevin in various places on the slope above them, their axes dug in and long gouge marks in the snow beneath their heels, strung together by a ropeline that’s still attached to Neil’s waist

That rope is probably the only thing that slowed them down enough that Neil could stop them without ripping his arm clean off

It’s hardly a by-the-book rescue, and in fact it was pretty stupid, but they’re okay, they’re okay, that’s all that matters

That night they light a fire down by a lake and Nicky cries on Aaron’s shoulder and Andrew keeps clenching his fists because he’s never felt so helpless in his life and it was Neil that jumped, not him

He knows that he was at the far end of the line and he would’ve made it worse if he had, but doing nothing while Neil risked his life to save Nicky

They don’t really talk about it

But you kind of can’t help being friends after that

And even after they’re out of the high mountains and back on solid trails Neil keeps tabs on them

And Nicky befriends the others and without even meaning to they start to develop a sort of loose trail family vibe

They’re not hiking together all the time like some of the groups they meet, but they check on each other all the time and wait up in resupply villages and bond over firepits and shitty hot chocolate mixes and swap tips on how to keep the butt-chafing at bay

Neil sticks to the outskirts, mostly, but he starts to open up a little, in fits and spurts, tiny non-specific things that wouldn’t even register to most people but that this particular group knows means more than that

He’s slowing down, too, sometimes hiking entire days with people and covering half his usual distance even when there’s no cliffs or glaciers threatening him

He likes hiking with Andrew the most, though

Because neither of them are big talkers when they’re hiking and Andrew’s pack might be absurdly heavy but he’s got legs the size of tree trunks and endurance to match, so he might not be fast but he can outwalk half the people on the trail by sheer relentlessness

They both like to camp up high, near treeline (so Neil can set up his tarp) and in the places that it’s legal they’ll start a small fire and Andrew will loan Neil his pot so he can actually cook his fucking ramen for once and sometimes they’ll watch the Milky Way rise and share secrets under the open sky, not looking at each other so they don’t break the illusion, and sometimes they won’t say anything at all but it’s okay, because they’re saying nothing together.

It’s nice

It’s maybe more than nice

The summer draws to a close and Neil is starting to realize that he doesn’t want it to

He never wants the hiking season to end but this time it’s different

This summer has been perfect

And he knows deep in his bones that once they leave the trail things will change

The others have lives to return to, and Neil…

The trail is all he has

And if he’s barely hiking alone at all these days, well, who’s going to call him out on it?

The others like having him around because he stops them from getting too fixated on the Trail to see the trail

He still takes side trips but now sometimes people will come along and he’ll stand at the base of a canyon staring up at the glossy white walls and Dan will snap a photo for her blog and smile, because the PCT is just a line on a map, but the hike is all of them; together

He’s hiking with Andrew in September when a storm hits, this time vicious

Neil huddles under his tarp in resignation

Storms suck, he always gets wet, no matter how much he lowers the tarp, but he’s used to it; he just waits it out

But it’s just getting worse

Hail lashing at the tarp and pummelling the ground and maybe for once he regrets camping so high up

And Andrew has to shout to be heard but finally Neil realizes he’s offering to let Neil come into his tent

You’re going fucking freeze, just get in here

Neil goes

It’s weird

It’s instantly weird

The tent is not built for two people, so they’re both sitting cross legged with their heads ducked to not press against the roof

The storms probably not going to let up soon, Andrew says

Yeah, Neil says.

Andrew sighs

Lie down, he says, and Neil does, and Andrew lies down next to him, shoulder to shoulder

It barely works, only because neither of them are very big people

Neil’s pack is outside wrapped in his tarp and all he has is his damp down blanket but he’s not cold anymore, not with Andrew bundled up in his ridiculous sleeping bag right next to him

The storm rages for nearly two days and what passes between them in that tent, nobody knows

If they’re barely ever seen apart after it, well. You only see people so often on the trail. It could easily be a coincidence

And if Neil doesn’t even set his tarp up on rainy nights anymore, well. They never camp near other people anyway, so who’s to know?

In early October the snow blows in, blocking the route to the finish.

They drift around a resupply village for almost two weeks, waiting for the trail to reopen, but finally even Kevin accepts that it isn’t going to

After all of that, none of them are going to finish the trail

It’s a disappointment—of course it is. For most of them, the end of their trip is now a nondescript exit into a village, no fanfare, no closure; they didn’t even know they were done for days

Still, it’s not so bad

They’re all together

Allison suggests Vegas, but they all laugh it down; they wouldn’t even know how right now, bearded and hairy and ravenous as they are

They go to South Carolina instead

It’s not really even discussed that they’ll stay together, they just all go; Allison hosts them at her resort and they laugh at the incongruous weirdness of seeing each other in real clothes, and it’s different, but it’s also okay

They stay for another two weeks, and they don’t hike another fucking inch

We should try the Continental Divide Trail sometime, Dan says

Her blog is so popular now that she’s got sponsorships from more than just Wymack waiting for her

She could make a career out of hiking and blogging and doing gear reviews and it’s a dream she’d never even realized she wanted until she had it

And if she accidentally fucked up and ended up with a hot trail boyfriend? Well, nobody’s perfect

And he has a great butt

(she has photos of it on her blog, from when they jumped into a glacier lake naked back in August)

Everyone is jealous

How about that trek in Iceland? Matt suggests

Or the whats-it-called in New Zealand, Allison says

Oh, I bet there’s some good ones in Europe! Nicky says. You guys can all meet Erik!

And it’s going to be different, but it’s not going away, and Neil feels calm in a way he never has at the end of a hiking season before

Eventually everyone has to start making plans to return to their lives, and jobs, and Neil sneaks out to the back of the house to sit in crisp fall air and watch leaves spiral down out of the trees

Andrew follows him

They sit together, watching the moon rise over the hills, and when Andrew asks Neil to come home, Neil says yes

[fallingin-like]

november 22

fox sleep by @annawrites [requested by @allforthebee]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is an amazing fic that features shapeshifter!neil who arrives at the foxhole coven in the form of a fox. it is such a sweet, playful, and comforting fic with a wonderful tinge of magic, i cannot recommend this fic enough. 

shapeshifter fics are always among my favourite, so i cannot explain exactly how excited i was when i first saw this posted. this was 10k words of softness, but at the same time it felt entertaining and i didn’t want it to end. i love the world that you created, it feels like it really does exist.

some of the parts i especially enjoyed:

”it’s like a gong being struck inside andrew’s head, and it hurts right down to his fingertips” there is something so andrew about having the wards tied to to himself in a way that it physically pains him when they’re breached. that he allows himself to endure this pain to protect the ones he cares about. i wonder, is this how all wards are? or just how andrew’s are

”trust-such a foolish, fickle thing; and yet.” ooh i love this sentence. andrew is so reluctant to let people in, it’s so wonderful to see that andrew has allowed himself to trust some of the foxes and it really shows the bond that has formed between him and the other foxes

”the morning is sharp and cold, a blade buried under snow” oh, what beautiful imagery

”nothing should have been able to break through so easily” this makes me so excited! i love powerful characters, although i know that this means that andrew will immediately be that much more wary and suspicious of neil

”andrew grinds his teeth. he must have done it a lot in his sleep last night because pain shoots through his jaw at the renewed pressure” lol this is really relatable

if there’s anything i love more than shapeshifter fics, it’s shapeshifter fics where the shapeshifter is injured… sounds mean but i just love angst!!

”his energy is a carefully rationed good; he’s stopped wasting it on arguing with a stubborn bunch of bleeding hearts who don’t listen to him anyway.” although i know that andrew is, for the most part, fond of the foxes, there’s something so heartbreaking about this. i don’t know exactly what andrew’s backstory is in this au, but i assume it’s similar to in the books, where andrew learns at a young age to not speak his opinion because it doesn’t change things

”sunlight warms his back through the window as he pokes the wards in his mind one by one, plucking at them like strings and listening to their familiar hum” ahh magic is so so cool, i’m always super interested in how it works. do you think that renee experiences her wards in a similar way? i always find myself leaning towards the idea that andrew experiences the world, and as a part of that, magic, in a way that so unique to only himself and that’s why he has so much control over his emotions, actions, and powers

”he doesn’t miss his jacket until he’s back outside and the biting wind sticks its icy fingers under his shirt.” ugh i am such a big fan of your descriptions

”the lapping stops. the fox’s head swivels over and his eyes unerringly find andrew’s across the room” woah i got shivers reading this!!

”the fox hastily retreats into his blanket nest-andrew can see his jacket poking out of the mess and tamps down a brief flash of irritation” i love nesting!! i wonder what neil was thinking when he added it to his pile, was he drawn to the scent of andrew?

”andrew remembers the burned patch on his face, now hidden under healing salve, and puts the lighter away. for now” !!! this is good

”then he reaches out to tap the box twice for yes, somehow succeeding in making the movement look sarcastic” neil josten i love you

”he looks a little bit chastened, but andrew catches him scratching at a scab again the minute abby’s back is turned” this is a great example of how flawlessly you are able to show neil’s personality even though he’s a fox. this reminds me of when wymack was like ‘make sure you have your phone with you and on all the time’ and neil was like ‘okay coach’ and immediately turned it off (was that canon? i think it was but not sure when it happened)

”everyone turns to the fox, who is busy sneaking persimmon slices from renee’s bowl while renee graciously pretends not to notice. his face immediately morphs into a picture of innocence, which matt takes as agreement” this is adorable! neil is so sneaky, but in a cute way. reminds me of a kid version of himself, although he definitely acts this way in the series as well, taking advantage of how fond the foxes are of him (and because of that, how blind they are to how dark and capable he actually is). when neil’s a fox version of himself, is his mind the same as when he’s a human? or is he more… fox-like?

the chickens!!!hen solo? amelia egghart? genius

SCRABBLE THIS IS THE BEST IDEA IN THE WORLD

neil is really showing off his personality here, with the ‘ouch’ and ‘nunya’ (that one made me laugh)

”the words sublimate in front of his mouth, from sound straight to steam. andrew can almost see the scrabble grid in the air” woah, what an amazing couple of sentences

hmm “how long he’s been in his fox form” and “the risks of staying in any one form for too long” hints at the idea that shapeshifters can shift into multiple animal forms? is there a limit? is it based on skill? how many animals can neil shift into?

”it is less them settling into a routine than the routine settling over them, like snow piling up overnight. one morning, andrew wakes up and finds himself neck-deep in it” what in the world, this is so so good

”andrew can’t tell if neil and jean are friends or enemies or a bit of both, but they squabble over everything-the best napping spot in the common room, the juiciest bites at dinner, the shiniest cat toys, the plumpest berries” i love this little insight on what things are like. we don’t see a lot of interaction between neil and jean in the series

andrew carrying around fruit for neil is super cute!

oo i like how you handle neil’s response to not shifting. “neil huffs and pushes a few letter tiles around aimlessly” and “he yawns demonstratively and curls up in his nest” yeah that’s neil

andrew in an ugly sweater knitted by bee that is super warm is the most adorable thing ever

THE BOOZY HOT CHOCOLATE SCENE IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITES. IT FEELS SOFT AND KIND OF BLURRY ALONG THE EDGES. ANDREW TRUSTS NEIL ENOUGH TO BE DRUNK AROUND HIM AND I LOVE THAT. thank you for listening to my psa.

wait okay so the edges of the newspaper start to smoke, what is the extent of andrew’s powers?

ohymgoodness i didn’t know there was something that could be as cute as andrew giving neil a bath!!

the scene with andrew showing neil the newspaper is so good. how you describe neil breaks my heart, and i love the mention of andrew feeling neil’s scars

”he seems asleep every time andrew checks on him, but somehow he still follows the progress of the lights across the room, ending up squashed in a corner with the last ruddy-golden wisp of it before it disappears altogether” this is a wonderful detail and i love that you included it

NEIL SHIFTING BACK INTO HUMAN FORM AND ANDREW FREAKING OUT AND THEN NEIL GOING BACK TO A FOX oh. it’s good. again and again. i love the way that you treat it.

i bet the thing that neil missed the most about not being in human form was being able to talk. he probably only survived as a fox because then he couldn’t insult people

”and neil promptly conks out mid-sentence on the couch with his feet in andrew’s lap” ahh this is so cute

”was anyone going to tell me that he’s this handsome or was i just supposed to find that out myself” OH MY GOODNESS YOU REALLY DID THAT

ANDREW AS A FURRY UHHHH

the porcupines!!

okay so dan has a dog, renee has an owl (love that idea, so serene, all-knowing, but ready to strike and attack at a moment’s notice), seth has a rottweiler, aaron has a ferret (that is hilarious to me, HAH), bee has a cat. are there any others that i missed/weren’t mentioned? how did you come up with these matches and do you have backstories behind how they came together?

this fic was so so wonderful to read. as a really conflict-averse person, i loved the sense of comfort i had while i read this, i knew that they were all safe and protected and i felt so warm and cozy. i loved your characterization and the way that you were able to show neil’s personality so well in his fox form. this fic was fluffy, funny, and contained such beautiful descriptions and sentences. i know that when i read a fic that’s written from you, it will be good, and this one was no different. it was so easy to read and i loved witnessing the bond form between andrew and neil. i enjoyed this so so much. thank you for writing it!!

[shkspr]

i was thinking about the similarities between tenrose (+ninerose) and a/c and i had a thought - rtd would’ve done a really great job with a/c. i feel like he would actually portray what neil retroactively claims he was trying to portray aka non-conventional romance.

i dont think these two asks were from the same person but every time i tried to answer them, there was a lot of overlap in my responses, so i’m putting em together

it’s interesting bc i feel like there’s no real consensus as to whether or not it’s baiting? like ive seen a lot of twitter folks for example say that it’s really clear they’re in love and they don’t need to kiss or anything to affirm that. idk i feel really conflicted bc im seront valid arguments on both sides of the debates. it’s definitely not like other baity ships i’ve come across before, that i can say.

this got reeeeeaaaally long so tl;dr: i don’t hate neil, i love the book and the show beyond human comprehension, but i do think it’s baiting and i am a bit upset about it. authorial intent should not stop anybody from interpreting or responding to it in whatever way they prefer, but it is important in the discussion of baiting and representation. i’m not waving a pitchfork, i’m just a gay person critically enjoying a piece of media. 

okay so… for me, what’s on the screen is not the issue, you know. a/c is very like tenrose, in a lot of ways. ten & rose never properly kissed, they never properly said “i love you,” there was never anything explicit in the show that said they were in what we would consider a romantic relationship, except for quips that could be written off as jokes (like “that was our first date”). 

and it does help that it’s a het ship, so there’s less…conscious denial of it, i think. but also. rtd and julie and david and billie and everybody involved has said time and time again that they were in love. bc that’s what was written. and it was obvious. it was clear, on the screen, that they were in love, even if they never explicitly said it. and it was never a question, it was just the truth. 

and with the exception of a few qualms (like the fact that they like… never touch), i think a/c is the same. it is obvious, from what was written and how it was acted, that they are in love. the issue, for me, is firstly, that neil fully knows how important this relationship is to a great number of his fans, and chose to ramp up those aspects of the relationship in the show to a ridiculous level, knowing that people would see it like that, took it right up to the precipice without allowing one toe over the line, and still says it isn’t a romance.

and secondly, that he’s patting himself on the back for writing it, for appealing to the audience like that, for the support of the relationship, not realizing that people support that relationship in spite of him. the other day he retweeted a tweet calling it a “slow burn love story” and it’s just like… you can’t write a fantastic romance, claim it isn’t a romance, and then congratulate yourself for writing a fantastic romance. it’s not fair.

it’s kind of like. some months ago, i saw a post made by someone saying that they saw themself in a&c because they were asexual, and they appreciated that a&c have a clearly profound connection without it being overtly sexual. and that is valid, absolutely, that fan: valid. but then i saw neil had either liked or reblogged it, i don’t remember, and that made me uneasy, because… he didn’t write a loving asexual relationship. he wrote a relationship that he knew would be interpreted by many as a romance, and included several jokes at their expense, and then chose to no-homo it basically by saying they don’t have sex. that’s not… that’s not representation of any kind.

neil’s favorite line is that what’s on the page/screen is canon, and he supports fans having headcanons and whatnot, but canon is canon. and that’s. true, obviously. but it’s not a coincidence that the show is so much more out there with the romantic aspects, and it’s not a coincidence that it still just barely manages to not be “canon.” and while i’m at it, i’d be remiss not to mention that it’s not a coincidence that it’s only the gay relationship that gets this treatment.

like, i’ve spoken about this before just as an issue that i have with the book in general, but it gets even more upsetting when considered alongside aziraphale and crowley’s relationship. newt and anathema have no chemistry whatsoever. the narration from his pov mentions several times that she’s hot, and that’s it. she shows no signs of liking him, at all, and he shows no signs of liking her beyond a superficial physical attraction, and he has zero qualities that would make it worth her even considering him as a romantic option. but we’re supposed to accept that relationship, because it’s canon.

shadwell and tracy also have literally no chemistry. he’s useless and mean and racist and treats her like garbage, and one of her only defining character traits is that she… likes that about him? like literally their entire relationship is him being awful to her, and her doing things for him because he’s a grown man who can’t feed himself, for some reason. and we’re supposed to accept that as a relationship, too, because it’s canon.

crowley and aziraphale have a 6000-year-long relationship full of trust and understanding, overcoming obstacles, bonding over their love of humanity, choosing each other over their loyalties to their respective sides, saving each other, helping each other, knowing each other’s interests and quirks, showing each other, over and over again, that they love each other. that’s the story that was written. so you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit put out when the writer tries to simultaneously insist that he didn’t write it like that and that he did write it like that, somehow. 

listen. i’m not saying i’d prefer it if the relationship was toned down. i’m not saying i’d prefer it if neil was going full rowling and claiming that they’re both canonically straight, or some shit. i’m not saying the relationship is worthless if they’re not making out. i’m just saying… i guess the bottom line of what i’m saying is: purposely dialing up the gay subtext in order to appeal to fans of the relationship without making it canon is literally the definition of queerbaiting. even if you repeatedly state that it won’t be canon, it’s still baiting. you’re using the relationship to reel in viewers who will be grateful for those table scraps because we’re in no position to complain, right?

and it is different from other baity ships, in my opinion, because it is a genuinely very well-written love story. like the only example of baiting i really have expertise on is probably bbc sherlock, and that is different. it’s different because neil knows how to write a love story, and he knew he was doing it, whereas moffat does not know how to write a love story, and he wasn’t trying to. he was just trying to write a weird friendship with a wacky homophobic remark thrown in once an episode, to appeal to fans who would gnaw at that bone because we were starving. 

neil, on the other hand, has dangled a picture of a feast in front of our eyes and it’s like… it’s good art, it’s just not good food. it’s good writing, it’s just not good representation. and i, a gay fan, feel alienated and invalidated by the fact that he knew that was exactly what he was doing. it’s just a bit of a cop-out, is all, and i’m a little disappointed in how he’s handling it in his interactions with the fandom, but that’s not new. 

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Beautiful Trauma 2- Love Me Again- [Billy Hargrove x OC]

Summary: Billy and Valerie talk but it doesn’t go well. Billy lashes out after school. 

Characters: Billy Hargrove x OC, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers, Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Will Byers, Eleven, Joyce Byers, Jim Hopper 

Warnings: Child abuse, underage sex, underage drinking, implied cheating, step-sibling incest, step-sibling relationship, violence, language 

Word Count: 3394

Ch. 1

“Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to.”

~ E. Lockhart

There were not enough words in the English Language to describe the kind of week that Valerie had had. First, they moved to some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. Then, she’s rudely ignored by the one person that she thought she could count on. Lastly, she had yet to make a genuine friend in Hawkins.

She thought she had something with Nancy but the girl had been hard to keep track of. They had three classes together and Nancy seemed to make an effort before class started but anytime they were in the hallway, Nancy seemed distracted. Either by her boyfriend or something else, Valerie wasn’t sure. 

Billy had made it a point to pretty much ignore her outside of going to and from school and familial interaction around the house. Max was really her only saving grace and she was so damn angry. She was angry at their mom for marrying Neil, angry at Neil for moving them out there, angry at Billy for being a jackass. Just angry. It was hard to be around all that anger constantly.

Valerie looked up when she heard Billy’s music crank on. It was Thursday night and she wouldn’t be surprised if he already had plans. 

Billy was attractive and she wasn’t blind. She knew how girls looked at him. Hell, that was how she first looked at him the first time she saw him in California. He truly was a specimen shaped by the clever hands of whatever deity pulled the strings of life. It was as if he’d been carefully crafted with the very thought in mind to draw the eye up his frame from bottom to top and back again. He was beautiful and she didn’t blame any girl, or guy, who thought so.

It would be easy for him to make friends and find a date, regardless of how she felt about it. 

She released a long-suffering sigh and heaved herself off her bed and down the hall. His door was open and dense with smoke. She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face, leaning against the door. 

He saw her but didn’t say anything, turning to his mirror and fingering his curls. He met her eyes in the mirror and Valerie almost cried at the brief glimpse of sadness she saw before his mask fell back into place. 

“What?” He snapped. She shrugged and shook her head. “Nothing. I heard your music and thought I’d come see what you were up to.” He flicked his eyes to hers and she could tell that he didn’t believe her. “You always were a bad liar, Val.” She stiffened at the familiar nickname but didn’t say anything. 

“Yeah, well, we all have our weaknesses.” He snorted and straightened, turning his cologne bottle over onto his wrists.

She watched him work and knew, in the back of her mind, that this was what he did when he got ready for a date. The scent of his cologne was familiar and Billy was just pretty enough to know it and care. 

She told herself to leave it alone, to not worry about it but, in the end, she just couldn’t help herself. 

“Hot date?” It sounded weak to her own ears and she grimaced. Billy stopped and stood up slowly. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the pity or anger, whatever it was, that was in his eyes. 

She did it anyway.

His face was blank but his eyes were expressive. They always were. His poker face could make the pros jealous but his eyes gave him away. They were pools of emotion, whirling around like stormclouds over an ocean. Waves crashing violently against each other, fighting one over the other, higher and higher until the surface broke and chaos exploded against the horizon.

She closed her eyes against the raging storm and turned her face away.

“Don’t.” His whisper was harsh between them.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened her spine.

She was Valerie fucking Mayfield. She knew Billy better than anyone and she knew how to deal with his moods. 

She was the one who broke through the surface of his anger in California. She was the one who pushed back when he lashed out at her attempts to get closer to him. She was the one who made the first move. She was the one who patched him up when his dad got rough. She made the first move. She was the girl he loved, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. She would not be cowed by his insecurities and anger. 

“What? All I asked was if you had a date.” She retorted. Her voice was just as sharp as Billy’s and he caught it. 

He narrowed his eyes at her and jerked his closet open. “You know what, Mayfield. We discussed this months ago.” He tugged on his leather jacket and adjusted the collar. She felt a fire well up in her chest when he used her last name. They hadn’t done that since before they were dating. 

“I know exactly what we discussed, Hargrove. All I asked was if you had a date. No where in there did I say anything about us having been an us nor did I make some snide remark about how hard up the girls in this town must be for some new dick if you already have a date after being in this backwater town for,” She looked mockingly down at her bare wrist as if she was checking the time. “Five fucking days. You sure do work fast, Hargrove.”

If steam could come out of his ears, it would. 

She wasn’t wrong about his eyes displaying his emotions so easily. He was enraged. His eyes were ablaze with an anger she hadn’t seen since Neil had announced their move. Billy had gotten a bloody lip for his troubles that night. 

“You know what, Mayfield.” He took slow measured steps towards her. “I do have a hot date. Her name’s Kimberly. She’s got dark hair, brown eyes and a tight little ass that you could bounce a quarter off.” He mimed flipping a coin, standing a hairsbreadth away from Valerie. 

She could feel the heat rising up in her face and hot tears of frustration and anger and pain welling up in her eyes. Her hands were shaking and her chest was heaving as she took in great lungfuls of air. 

“You’re a son of a bitch.” She couldn’t bring herself to speak any louder than a whisper but Billy heard her. She could by the tightening around his eyes and the clenching of his jaw.

She knew that he was trying to hurt her and she told herself not to let it get to her but she loved him. It was hard to not take what he said personally. It was hard to let it roll off her back. Everything he was doing, everything he was saying, was coming from a place of pain and sorrow but that didn’t give him the right to hurt her like he was.

“That may be, but you and I both know that I haven’t gotten laid in months so I’ve hit a bit of a dry spell.” 

She always told herself she would never hit him. He got enough from his dad and he didn’t need it from her but now he was just being cruel. 

She didn’t even think about it before it happened. It was over in less than a second and her hand tingled after.

Billy twisted his head back to the front, his cheek pink. He swiveled his jaw around and clicked his tongue. He glared at her from under his brow and sneered. “Get out.”

She couldn’t move fast enough.

She heard the door slam behind her as she fell onto her bed face first. She willed the tears back into her eyes and her throat was tight with the effort. She sniffed loudly and turned when she felt a body sit on the edge of the bed. It was Max.

Her little sister looked pensive and Valerie was sure she’d heard them arguing.

She sat up and tried to discreetly wipe underneath her eyes but she didn’t think she’d done a very good job. 

She gave her sister a smile that felt forced and settled her hands in her lap. “What’s up, kid?” Max tried to smile but failed and instead turned to fully face Valerie.

“Are you okay?” Valerie shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. “I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be?” Her voice held a false sense of happiness that sounded hollow to her own ears.

She let Max scan her face for several seconds. “I heard you and Billy arguing. He sounded mad.” Valerie rolled her eyes and leaned back against her pillows.

Max was not aware of the inner workings of their family. She didn’t know the extent of Valerie and Billy’s relationship. She knew that the two of them knew each other before their parents got married but she was not aware of how deep their relationship went. 

Max was also unaware that Neil liked to use Billy as a punching bag from time to time. 

Valerie had known since they got together in California and she was fairly certain that she was the only person who knew. She took it upon herself early in their relationship to fix him up. She would clean up the blood on his face and hands and she would bandage the deeper cuts on his face. She iced his bruises and wrapped his knuckles. 

After their parents got married, Valerie suspected that her mother knew about the abuse as well. She didn’t have proof but the way that Susan would eye the bruises on Billy’s face with equal looks of shame and pity made Valerie suspect that she knew that Neil hit his son. Once Valerie knew that her mother knew Billy was in pain, she developed a deep resentment towards her mother that really only got worse.

Not only did Susan know about the violence but she married the man. It was one thing to find out that your boyfriend abuses his son but then to accept his marriage proposal after the fact was a whole new level of desperation. Or maybe Susan was just lonely. Either way, Valerie lost all respect for her mother the moment she realized that Susan knew Billy was being abused. 

Billy and Valerie had an unspoken agreement that Max would never know. She was too young and knowing about the abuse would shatter her perception of the world so they had made it a point after the wedding to keep Max away from the knowledge of Neil’s violence. 

“He’s fine. I’m fine. Tell me about school today.” Max continued to look unsure but Valerie sat up and gently prodded her sister in speaking. Max finally relented and rolled her eyes. 

“Fine. Science class was stupid. I guess we’re learning about the brain but we covered that first quarter in California so,” She shrugged and picked absently at the bedspread. 

Valerie glanced up when she heard the front door slam. Max continued. “I don’t think this town gets new kids very often because there were four boys who spent all of recess spying on me.” Valerie smiled and nudged her little sister with her toes. “Maybe they think you’re cute.” She wiggled her eyebrows and Max laughed.

It always made Valerie feel good when she could make her sister laugh. “Ew! They don’t think I’m cute. I’m just interesting to figure out. I’m from California. They’ve probably never met anyone who’s not from this stupid town.” Max looked down at the ground between her feet, swinging her legs side to side. 

Valerie sighed softly and pushed her sister's hair back behind her ear. “Hey,” Max looked up. “Do you want to get some ice cream and see what’s on TV? Maybe there’s a monster movie we can find.”

Max’s smile was hesitant but she nodded and hopped off the bed, leading Valerie out of the room and to the kitchen.

~*~

Valerie released a long breath and pressed her forehead against her locker. The final bell had just rung, releasing them for the weekend. Tina’s Halloween party was tonight and Valerie wasn’t sure if she was going to go. She knew Billy would be there and didn’t know if she wanted to deal with him.

He had come home late from his date last night and spent nearly an hour in the shower. Valerie had leaned against her door frame as soon as she heard the shower shut off. When he came out the pain that Valerie felt nearly bent her in half.

There were scratches all down his back and a decent sized hickey on his collarbone. 

He turned to look at her and the emptiness she saw in his eyes had her tears spilling down her cheeks. He didn’t look sorry or angry or happy. He looked broken.

She had to close the door on him or else she’d collapse. She did just that as soon he was out of sight. She’d pressed her back against the door and slid down its surface, her hand held tight over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She heard his door close and lock and only then did she get up off the floor and bury herself beneath her blankets. 

She cried herself to sleep and woke up with sore eyes and a headache. 

School had been difficult but she’d made it through and now it was the weekend. She turned and pressed back against the locker, watching the nameless people pass her by, some looking at her with interest and most ignoring her. She saw Billy pass her with Tommy and Carol and their entourage. He trailed his eyes over her but didn’t say anything. She could see the turmoil and conflict raging in his eyes before he was pulled away by something Tommy said.

Valerie perked up when she saw Nancy walking dejectedly down the hall, Steve nowhere in sight. She stepped up beside her and tried to smile. Nancy didn’t seem to notice. Valerie tried anyway. 

“Hey, Nancy, are you excited for Tina’s party tonight?” That seemed to break Nancy out of whatever state she was in and the other girl looked up at her. “Oh, hey, Valerie. Yeah, I guess.” Nancy turned away quickly and Valerie drew her eyebrows together.

Something was bothering Nancy or at least distracting her. “What are you going to dress up as?” Valerie tried again. Nancy didn’t take the bait this time. “Look, I’m sorry, Valerie, but can we talk later? I’m supposed to get ready at Steve’s.” Nancy dashed away through the crowd and Valerie felt disheartened. 

She made her way to the parking lot and saw Billy leaning against the back of his car smoking a cigarette and watching her. She glared at him as she passed and missed the way his eyes followed her. He sighed and turned back to the front, tossing his cigarette. There was a tightness starting in his chest and a lump rose up in his throat. He sniffed loudly and turned his head when he heard Max’s skateboard. 

He narrowed his eyes suddenly angry. “You’re late again.” He said. Max glanced up at Valerie standing by the front of the car but she didn’t look at her. “Yeah,” She looked over at Billy. “I had to get catch-up homework.” Max opened the door and pushed the passenger seat forward. Valerie turned to follow her in. Billy scoffed and pushed off the car. “Jesus, I don’t care. You’re late again and you’re skating home, do you hear me?” 

Valerie glared at the side of Billy’s head as she nudged Max into the car. She pushed the seat back and buckled herself in, ignoring Billy’s poignant gaze across the center console. He gave a sharp huff before jerked the transmission and backing out. 

He sped down the side street, his music blaring through the speakers. Max sat hunched in the back seat, her bag beside her and her skateboard at her feet. Valerie kept her gaze out the window and ignored Billy’s petty attempts to get her to look at him.

“God, this place is such a shithole.” He wasn’t very loud but Valerie heard him. She turned her head. “It’s not that bad.” Max piped from the back seat. Billy looked at her in the rearview mirror and his eyes narrowed. Valerie glanced back at her and felt the storm brewing.

“Yeah, Billy, it’s not that bad.” Valerie quipped. The smile on her face was sardonic and Billy could tell. “No.” He nodded and rolled down the window. Valerie jerked back as the wind caught her hair. “You smell that, Val.” Billy was mocking her, holding his nose closed as he hummed. “That’s actually shit. Cow shit.” He looked over at her and she rolled the window up.

“I don’t see any cows.” She replied. Billy snorted. “You’ve met the high school girls. Hell, I saw you talking to Nancy Wheeler today.” Billy’s voice was dripping with acid and Valerie forced herself to bite her tongue. He wanted a reaction from her and she wasn’t going to give him one. 

Billy glared at her. “So what? You like it here now?” Valerie scoffed and shook her head but didn’t answer him. “So why are you defending it?” Billy was looking at her, expecting an answer. 

Valerie wanted to be the bigger person. She didn’t want to give Billy a reason to release his anger. 

She knew he was angry. She hadn’t talked to him all day and he hadn’t had time to expel his pent up emotions that had been raging inside him since last night. 

“I’m not.” She said with scorn. Billy shrugged. “Sure sounds like it.” 

Valerie turned to look at him. “Are the girls really such cows, Billy? I mean, they must not all suck after the night you had.” 

So much for being the bigger person.

Billy snapped his eyes over to her. She saw his lip curl up in contempt and a low growl from deep in his chest.

He shifted gears with a sharp jerk and the car flew down the street. Valerie’s heart leaped in her chest and she gripped the dashboard.

They came over a hill and Valerie could see three boys riding their bikes down the street. “Billy, slow down,” Max called from the backseat. She was leaning forward with her head between the two of them. “Are these your new hick friends?” He asked maliciously. 

Max shook her head, her red hair flying around them. “No, I don’t know them.” Billy cocked his head, staring straight at Valerie. “I guess you won’t care if I hit ‘em then, huh?” He asked. 

He sped up again and the car grew closer to the boys.

She didn’t know what to do. Billy was doing it on purpose, trying to get a rise out of her. He wanted her to be anything but angry at him. 

Well, he succeeded. 

She was scared of him. 

“I get bonus points if I get ‘em all in one go?” Billy adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, careening down the street. “No, Billy, stop. It’s not funny.” Valerie said. Billy looked at her, his eyes were dark and resentful. His face was blank as he pushed the car to go faster. 

The boys turned and began to pedal faster. “Billy, come on! Stop it! It’s not funny!” Max screamed. Valerie snapped her eyes from the boys to Billy and back again. Billy smacked his hand against the steering wheel, his foot pressed to the floorboard of the car. 

“Stop it!” Max screamed one last time. Valerie reached over and jerked the steering wheel to the left, swerving into the other lane and around the boys as they tumbled into the grassy shoulder. Max twisted around to watch the boys as they got to their feet. 

Valerie pressed back against the door as Billy cackled, the car speeding down the road, music shaking the windows.

[clarascuro]

Clara Reads City of Bones Part 3: Hogwarts Institute for Witchcraft and Shadowhunting

The Plot Thus Far

When last we left off, our lovable cardboard cutout protagonist, Clary Fray, had been attacked by a demon called a Ravener and taken to a place called “The Institute”. After three days of recovery, she has an uncomfortable (for us) conversation with Isabelle Lightwood, where we learn that Isabelle is hot and that we, the audience, should hate her for that, and also that Jace Wayland lives with the Lightwood family because his parents are dead. We are meant to feel bad about this. We are meant to feel sorry for Jace, which is a bit of a tall order, considering that Jace Wayland is the worst person to ever smirk and shrug his way through a YA book. If I were trapped in an elevator with him I wouldn’t even wait five minutes to be rescued, I’d pry those doors open and just drop. Death is cruel but quality time with Jace Wayland is crueler. 

So Clary leaves the hospital wing and goes down a long hallway, lead by the sound of someone playing a piano. Last time I said that it was Alec (Isabelle’s brother) who played piano, and that it was his only character trait, but nope!! It’s actually my favorite boy Jace, that sack of human refuse! So I guess Alec has no personality, actually. Anyway, they have some “witty” “banter”, and then Alec takes her to the library to talk to the head of the Institute, Hodge Starkweather, and, yeah. I think it’s time to talk about the Harry Potter stuff. 

The Harry Potter Stuff

You know how E.L. James made minor changes to her crappy Twilight fanfic and then published it as 50 Shades of Gray? Well, as near as anyone can figure out, this is basically the same thing that Cassandra Clare did with her Harry Potter fanfic The Draco Trilogy. Just change the names, tweak the backstories ever so slightly, slap on a crappy cover and publish that sucker! It’s technically not plagiarism anymore! This is how you end up with stuff like "The Institute”, a secret school to teach young magic kids to control their powers, or Hodge Starkweather, elderly magic professor, who, one could argue, is a crackpot old fool teaching our protagonists magic tricks. (Gosh, how does Clare come up with this stuff?) 

This obviously isn’t proof of any kind, but when the villain of your story is named “Valentine” and he’s an evil magic user who has been dead for sixteen years (the age of our secretly magic protagonist) and the main characters are afraid to even say his name...yeah, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where all of this comes from. 

Now all this is frustrating, but it’s also hilarious. I mean, the big bad of the story is called Valentine. VALENTINE. And I actually laughed out loud for several minuted when I first read the name “Hodge Starkweather” to myself. I still get a little chuckle typing this. Oh, and since the word “muggle” would have JK Rowling’s lawyers on her ass faster than light, the word Cassandra Clare uses for non-magic people is...”Mundie”. It’s short for “mundane”. Like...first of all this is objectively hilarious. Second, mundane just means “normal”. If the Shadowhunter society is magical, then aren’t they they mundane ones? I know humans don’t have magic, but we still figured how to like, fly and stuff. That has to count for something. If I saw a dog that taught himself how to read, I wouldn’t like, make fun of him for not also being able to talk. I’d be like “Shit! That’s a pretty impressive fucking dog!” like what the fuck?

Anyway, this is all just a roundabout way to say that obviously this used to be a HP fic that through some twist of fate landed a publishing deal. And you know, it’s not as brain-meltingly bad as 50SoG, so who cares? Cassandra Clare’s just having fun, so who cares if her writing gets published? 

Well...

The Plagiarism

So, yeah, she plagiarized lot. Like a lot. The Draco Trilogy has lines of dialogue taken directly from shows like Red Dwarf, Black Adder, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novels. Quoting shows apparently used to be pretty common in the early days of fanfiction, so there is context to consider here, but it gets worse. Cassandra Clare lifted almost a whole chapter, nearly word for word, from an out-of-print fantasy series called The Hidden Land, by Pamela Dean. On top of that, Clare was sued in 2016 by author Sherrilyn Kenyon, whose Darkhunter series predates Clares Shadowhunters series. (And for the record, Clare’s series was originally titled Darkhunters. Yikes.) You guys can read the full(ish) stories here and here.

I Guess I Have To Keep Talking About The Plot Now

Sigh. So after Hodge Starkweather (A+ naming there) tells them about Valentine, he explains that Shadowhunters are angel-human hybrids? Or something? They’re special, and they fight demons. Also faries, vampires, werewolves, all that stuff exists. We’re stuck with the Shadowhunters, however, because God has punished me for my hubris, and my work is never done. (Oh look, I just plagiarized Brian David Gibert. I’m a real author now, like Cassandra Clare!) The Shadowhunters were started thousands of years ago by a man named, I shit you not, Jonathan Shadowhunter. JONATHAN. FUCKING. SHADOWHUNTER. Why the fuck am I trying to come up with clever names for my characters? I should just name them all “Alex Clarasbook” and call it a fucking day. Fuck.

Anyway after a thrilling conversation with Alec-Who-Has-No-Personality, we find out that he does have a personality! His personality is that he hates humans. Oh, excuse me, “mundies.” Yep, that’s the best way to make a character relatable. Just make ‘em fucking racist. It’s okay though, it’s only magical racism so it evens out. Have I mentioned that this story has no poc?

(Oh also Clary’s mom was a Shadowhunter, but 1. I hate Clary                        and 2. literally a newborn baby could’ve figured that out, so)

Clary and Jace leave the Institute to go back to Clary’s house, and Clary slaps Jace, an act that brings me such joy that only the birth of my firstborn child will ever eclipse it, and even then, it will be it close tie. The moment is quickly over, however, as Clary immediately feels bad about it, because again, she is not a character. She’s a Walmart mannequin created for Jace to make out with. Then she sees two girls looking at Jace, and, in what can only be called the true essence of the book, “Clary turned instant traitor against her gender.” Just as a reminder, Clary sucks.

Anyway they get to her house, kill a giant, talk to a witch, yaddah yaddah yaddah. Basically nothing happens except the inevitable unraveling of my mental processes. I had to stop reading there because I have better things to do with my life besides destroying the few braincells I have left. I’ll post the next part soon, as soon as I can read more than five pages without wanting to fling the book off a seaside cliff into the frothing mist that obscures the swell and crash of the unforgiving waves. Until then, please enjoy some of my favorite bad lines.

Selected Passages (And Commentary)

“Jace chuckled. Clary could tell that he had come up behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning that infuriating grin of his.”                                                                                                             (She knew all that without looking?)

“Attacked. Clary wondered if this was a euphemism for ‘murdered’.”            (Clary you’re literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met.)

“Clary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.”                  (This may just be me being petty, but I hate this cliche so much.)

“‘You may be the only guy my age I’ve ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it’s in Earl Grey tea.”                                                                   (Ah yes, that famous stereotype, that boys don’t know about tea. Oh, you like tea? Name three kinds. I hear sexist gatekeeping is a real problem in the tea community. I am not having a good time.)

“Dorothea chuckled. ‘It’s good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays.’ ‘Thanks,’ Clary said. She thought of Isabelle’s tiny waist and felt suddenly gigantic.”                                                                            (Cassandra Clare’s super feminist, guys. You can tell because she’s always pitting her female characters against each other.)

Rating So Far

3/10-Bad. Jonathan Shadowhunter gets an entire 10/10. I’m going to have my name legally changed to Jonathan Shadowhunter.

[flippyspoon]

I NEED to share this with you: I absolutely think Billy would be a complete uhauler, like planning his future with Steve after they've only kissed once. Lying awake in bed at night after Neil's gotten on his case about something and just picturing a life far, far away with Steve and wondering if he'd want an apartment or a house, if he's a dog or a cat person, if he likes breakfast or just coffee in the morning... Billy falls in love faster, but hides it better. This is the hill I'll die on!

HEY. I like that- I think Billy’s really fun because I can just as easily picture that as him being afraid of feeling too much for Steve even inwardly and honestly both of those make sense to me.

This isn’t exactly what you said, but it inspired a little thingy, hope you like:

2am

“So what’s so bad you had to get out of the house at two in the morning?” Billy said, speaking quietly around his smoke. They’d parked on Hawkins’ main drag because it being two in the morning and all, they could do that and feel like they own the place. The street was deserted and shuttered and dark but for the Beamer. They sat on the hood, smoking and drinking Cokes.

“S’no problem,” Billy went on before Steve could answer. “Middle of the night’s actually the easiest time for me to get away. Til around five anyway.”

“I dunno,” Steve mumbled, and fidgeted with the tab of his soda can. “Can’t sleep sometimes. I hate being alone in my room when I can’t sleep.”

“You get nightmares about those demo-whatever things?” Billy said, raising an eyebrow. He had fought exactly one. Billy was still getting his head around the monster thing just as Steve was still getting his head around being friends with Billy. But here they were.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Steve said quickly.

“I’m not!” Billy put his hands up in defense. “Those things are for real. Almost took my fucking arm off.”

They had not been friends very long. There had been a truce before that, a fragile peace that had at least made friendship a possibility. Still, it was new and it felt a little surreal to Steve. Then again, he’d tapped on Billy’s window at two in the morning because there was no one else to wake up when he didn’t want to be alone in his room and Billy, while a wild card, was often game for things like that.

“Just asking,” Billy said. “You get nightmares and shit?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, sounding far away. “Sometimes I think I hear them too… Like in class or…anywhere. Get all freaked out.”

“Hmm.” Billy nodded. “You do look freaked out in class sometimes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Yeah, I… I try to like…put myself somewhere else, ya know? Think about something else like…imagine I’m on a beach or… I dunno. It’s stupid. It doesn’t even work.”

“I do that,” Billy said, casual as anything.

Steve gaped at him. “Hmm?”

“The reason I gotta be home by five,” Billy said, “is ‘cause sometimes my old man likes to wake me up at five. Put me to work doing chores at sunrise and shit. Like when I’m not expecting it. Thinks it builds it character or something? Like I’m in the army. Lecture me on what a piece of shit I am while I do it, of course. Or when he’s…if he’s going off on me. Ya know… I’ll think about…” Billy rubbed his eye, and chortled a little sadly, staring at his cigarette. “I’ll think about something else. Take myself out of it.”

“What do you think about?” Steve said, genuinely curious.

Billy looked away down the street for so long that Steve followed his gaze, thinking he must be looking at something in particular as smoke spiraled between them. Then Billy shifted, folding up his legs, his body language suddenly a little defensive.

“You,” Billy said softly. “I think about you.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve said, but he couldn’t play it off as he sat there, an icy hot feeling blooming in his hands and his feet because some part of him knew it was true. “What do you…?”

“I just think about…” Billy shook his head, and still would not look at Steve as he spoke. “About something you said that day and how it was funny or stupid or…just…nice, I guess. And…what you were wearing. Or like…the way you fidget with your mouth, if you were nervous. Try to guess what you were nervous about. And whether or not you still hate me… If…if you could ever… Or…why you looked at me some way and… “ He smiled to himself and said, “How you take your fucking coffee, I dunno. What it would be like to…”

“To what?” Steve said, hardly breathing.

“To wake up in your bed,” Billy said, smiling slowly. “I figure waking up in bed next to Steve Harrington’s gotta be about the best feeling there is.”

“Oh…” Steve ducked his head, blinking, feeling dumb. “You’re fucking with me. You’re such an asshole-”

“Wish I was,” Billy muttered. “I’m dead serious.”

“But…why’re you telling me this?”

“I dunno, Harrington!” Billy laughed wryly. “Because you asked me and it’s two o’clock in the goddamn morning.”

“Oh…” Steve felt weird with this new information that threw everything into a different light and found that A. He still wanted to be friends with Billy Hargrove and B. His brain was shockingly not shutting on the door on what Billy had just said. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Billy made a face at him, curling his lip a little. “Okay what?”

“Okay, it’s two o’clock in the goddamn morning,” Steve said. “And you basically just told me you’re in love with me and…okay.” Billy stared at him, perhaps waiting for a worse shoe to drop and Steve felt a bit of pity or empathy or a sense that Billy could be sweet it turned out and impulsively he reached out and tucked a stray blonde wave behind Billy’s ear and said, “Sugar. No cream.”

“Um…what?” Billy blinked at him, his breath a little short.

“How I take my coffee,” Steve said, and smiled.

[metalandmagi]

October Media Madness!

It’s the last day of the month, so you know what that means! What-no not Halloween! It’s time to see how one person wasted their time this month by keeping track of all the media they consumed! And if you thought October would mean a lot of horror movies and books and TV shows...you are going to be very disappointed because I’m a fucking wimp who hates horror.

September media

Movies!

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: Scott Pilgrim, aka the most intentionally unlikable protagonist ever, has to defeat the seven evil ex-boy...uh I mean exes of the cool girl he’s dating. Yeah, I’m super late to the Edgar Wright party, but since this movie was finally available on Netflix I figured it was time. And it’s pretty good aside from the fact that Scott is the worst. But at least he owns up to it in the end. It’s crazy over the top ridiculous, has tons of little details that film theorists love to salivate over, and Scott’s roommate Wallace is hilarious. I just wish I could hear what Michael Cera says half the time. Oh well, there’s nothing good or bad I can say about this movie that hasn’t been said before. 8/10

Coraline: Coraline Jones, an imaginative young girl with inattentive parents who has just moved into a new apartment, discovers a secret door that leads to a world where everything is better, and everyone has buttons for eyes. However, under the perfect exterior, things are more sinister than they seem. I got the urge to re-watch this because it’s freaking October, and although I don’t watch horror movies, I felt obligated to watch something at least kind of Halloween-ish. And I stand by my long held opinion that this is the all time creepiest movie marketed for children ever made. Literally everything about this movie is creepy. There’s creepy music, creepy dolls being made and following people around, creepy cats, creepy people with buttons for eyes, creepy ghosts of children, creepy children with their mouths shown shut...the list is endless. And Laika never fails to make beautifully animated stop motion. 9/10

Sierra Burgess is a Loser: The latest film in Netflix’s attempt to dominate the rom-com genre, in which an unpopular high school girl ends up texting a handsome jock while leading him to believe he is texting a gorgeous cheerleader named Veronica who also goes to her school.

Okay, this isn’t a bad movie, so let me start with the good. I appreciate the message of how you need to make yourself stand out to colleges and how high school in general is becoming a toxic competitive environment. There’s a lot of good material about living up to expectations and stereotypes, both from Sierra’s side and her partner in crime Veronica’s. And speaking of Veronica, I was completely blindsided by how much of a great character she was and how much she grew throughout the film. I also liked Sierra’s best friend and the love interest, even if they were a little generic.

That being said...I didn’t like Sierra. When main characters intentionally lead people on for no good reason (and thinking some guy you’ve just met isn’t going to text you back because you’re not “conventionally attractive” is not a good reason) it annoys the hell out of me. Not only does she lie through texting him, but she and Veronica lie to his face multiple times. She also does something really horrible to Veronica because of a misunderstanding that could have been avoided if she taken five seconds to use some common sense. She also thinks she’s above doing a simple homework assignment for her poetry class because she wants to be different. I realize she needs to stand out in order to get recommendations for college, but come on. And finally, when she’s upset about how she looks, she blames her parents because her mom is attractive??? Yes it is frustrating to have these brilliant “conventionally attractive” parents, but they always try to build her up, as opposed to Veronica’s mother who only tears her down. I DID NOT HATE HER CHARACTER, but I think she could have been portrayed better. The other major thing that bothered me is that there is the complete lack of proper conflict resolution. All the problems and hurt feelings just magically go away in order to have a happy ending. Overall, the movie’s just okay. 7/10

Howl’s Moving Castle: Sophie, an ordinary girl who gets cursed by a witch, turns into an old woman and ends up working for a wizard who steals hearts. It feels like Studio Ghibli’s version of beauty and the beast, except Howl is the beauty with a questionable personality, and Sophie is the “beast” who whips him into shape...until the second half of the movie anyway. I’d prefer to watch an entire movie of old woman Sophie interacting with the other characters rather than deal with the war aspect of the plot. Anyway, the animation is awesome, and I appreciate the English voice cast...except for the fact that no one had the good sense to use Crispin Freeman as Howl instead of just having him as Turnip-Head! I know lots of people have talked about the differences between the book and the movie, but I like how the movie portrays that even though being old is physically painful, it can also be emotionally freeing. Either way I think Sophie is a great character with a fun sense of humor! 8/10

First Man: The story of Neil Armstrong and the years leading up to the moon landing...which apparently a lot of people didn’t like? Some people are butthurt about there not being a shot of planting the flag (which if they actually saw the movie they would know the focus of the scenes on the moon were to show Armstrong dealing with wonder and grief, NOT rallying together as Americans). Some people are unhappy that an American hero can be portrayed so negatively, and some people just thought it was boring and dragged a lot…

Okay, yes, the movie is a drama that does not portray Armstrong in a glowing light, and yes there are certain scenes that go on too long. BUT I really liked this movie...and this is coming from someone who doesn’t like Ryan Gosling. It is a family drama that captures how different people respond to grief and stress set in the backdrop of the space race. I also liked learning about this period in history and the controversy around the space program in general. It was beautifully shot and had very creative music choices, which was the main reason I saw it in theaters. I came away from it awed and terrified that we basically sent these people to the moon in freaking tin cans, and that in the sixties men shunned their emotions so much that they wouldn’t hug their children before going to space! Overall, it was good in a solid way, but it did drag a bit. 7.5/10

Mama Mia: Another protagonist named Sophie is getting married and invites the three men who could each possibly be her father to the wedding. But who cares about the plot, the main purpose of the film is to show women having fun with their friends! This movie...isn’t exactly good, but it 100% knows what it wants to be and accomplishes that. It’s a wacky, ridiculous, musical romp that people only watch with their friends when they’re plastered because they want to hear ABBA songs. It’s the very definition of a guilty pleasure movie, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I will say that it’s harder for me to relate to because I don’t have friends that I act this ridiculous with, and sometimes it gets to be a bit much. Although, I have seen the Broadway musical and remember absolutely loving every minute of it...so maybe it’s just the movie overplaying it. Oh well, it’s just something fun to have on in the background or watch when you need cheering up! It’s a 9/10 for being accomplishing what it wants and a 6/10 as an actual movie.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: In this Marvel filler episode between Infinity War and Captain Marvel, Scott is under house arrest and Hope tries to get her mother out of the quantum realm. Okay, this was a fun movie with some great moments, but it definitely had its issues. For a movie called Ant-Man and the Wasp, the two did not do much fighting together...or at all until the end. It felt more like an origin to their partnership than a team up movie (and I’d rather have a Wasp and Black Widow team up movie...or all the Marvel women team up movie). It also couldn’t figure out who the villain should be. It’s like they realized half way through writing it that Ghost was way too sympathetic and cool and had to come up with a bunch of more forgettable villains. And because this was more of a hot potato rather than a heist, I didn’t think it was as fun as the first movie overall. HOWEVER I still really enjoyed the inventive action and the characters. I will always watch 2 hours of Evangeline Lilly kicking ass, and Paul Rudd being himself. And I am convinced that Marvel is using The Adventure Zone route of needing competent women to solve everyone’s problems. But the heart of the movie is really family. Hank and Hope, Scott and his daughter, and even Ghost all had very compelling stories that drew me in every time. And that post credits scene...I knew it was coming, but come on! Marvel is the only current studio who can basically do a horror movie “The End…?” in their credits now. 7.5/10

The Chronicles of Narnia-The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe: The Disney version of the classic C.S. Lewis book; come on we all know the story. Okay, I watched this for the first time in several years because I also read the book this month. And holy cow, when you see what material the movie had to work with, this is a freaking masterpiece. It takes a very simple children’s book and turns it into an epic fantasy! The score, the little details, and the setting are all perfect. All the characters are so real and fleshed out AND ACCURATELY PORTRAYED FOR THEIR AGES! All four siblings are struggling with something, and the actors do a great job considering they were actual children while making this! I am so angry that Disney let this property’s potential slip through their fingers because I truly believe that if they kept making movies like this, it could have been their Harry Potter by now. Prince Caspian was also excellent, though I don’t remember much of Dawn Treader, but I think if they put the money and effort into continuing this franchise it could have been great.

One thing I don’t appreciate about the movie is how they reduce Edmund’s mental journey. I have always especially loved Edmund as a character, and something the movie fails to mention is the fact that APPARENTLY in the book the Turkish Delight is enchanted to make whoever eats it think only of eating more and more until THEY EAT SO MUCH THAT THEY DIE?! He’s not just a greedy kid. And there’s a lot more to his time with the Witch that makes his actions easier to understand. Anyway it definitely goes down as one of the best book to movie adaptations I’ve ever seen, and it is on my very short list of movies that are better than the books. 10/10

Books!

The Chronicles of Narnia- The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis: It’s the first Narnia book; we all know the plot. I am one of the many people who had this series read to them as a kid, but it’s been like...eleven years since I actually read these books for myself. Even then I only got to The Horse and His Boy before stopping because it was boring as hell. I’ve been wanting to re-read the series all year, and with only the Disney movies in recent memory, imagine my surprise when I found out that Lewis’s writing style is absolutely bananas! I think he’s acting as some omniscient narrator, but his style is so stream of consciousness it’s hilarious! He constantly addresses the audience in these 2007 fanfiction author-esque asides. The Pevensies are the most posh, old-timey sounding British kids ever, and it’s amazing to visualize children that actually speak like this. Everything happens so quickly because it is 100% meant to be a children’s story, not this epic adventure we all associate with the movies. So...if you’ve never read it before definitely check it out just to discover how utterly wild everything is. My only real complaint is that it’s kinda sexist, and no one except for Edmund gets a character arc. Even though Susan gets a bow and Lucy gets a dagger, they’re treated like they shouldn’t be fighting because they’re girls and not...oh I don’t know...because they’re children! 7/10

The Ladies Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzie Lee: The second installment of...idk...the “Guide” series? I talked about the first book, The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue in my May Media Madness, and this book is just as good! This series takes place in the 1700s, and while the first book follows arrogant bisexual disaster Monty, his (boy)friend Percy, and his sister Felicity through a romp across Europe, this book follows Felicity and her friends on a...let’s just say “scientific expedition” involving pirates. The less you know about the plot going in the better. And did I mention her friends include a badass Muslim pirate princess and an Elle Woods-esque dog loving naturalist? And also did I mention Felicity is CANONICALLY revealed as ARO/ACE?! It’s strongly hinted at in the first book, and in this book Mackenzi Lee basically shoves any doubt about it out the window. It’s fun, hilarious, and also heartbreaking at the same because of all the challenges each character faces because they’re ambitious women in this time period. Sometimes it feels a little heavy handed in its feminist messages, but you can’t deny it’s not accurate. I’m really only saying that because I am a woman, and the struggles are nothing I haven’t seen or read before.  Anyway, this is a fantastic series that I highly recommend to anyone looking for a fun read, and it gets bonus points for including Monty and Percy being disgustingly in love together! 1000/10

Dear Evan Hansen the Novel by Val Emmich (and also Steven Levenson, Benj Pasek, and Justin Paul):

Buckle up.

I really love the Dear Evan Hansen musical (which I talked about in my August Media Madness.) The novel is almost a word for word adaptation of the musical, in which Evan, a teenager with anxiety, writes a letter to himself that is stolen by a boy who commits suicide, leading everyone to believe Evan and the boy, Connor, were best friends because they assume Connor wrote the letter to Evan. There is a lot I could say about this adaptation, but the number one thing is: I really don’t know if people who haven’t seen the musical or heard the soundtrack will like it as much. The strength of Dear Evan Hansen is mainly in its performances and its music, and while they tried to work the music in as best they could, I enjoyed the story more because I can link it back to the actors’ performances. Yes, the story is interesting and the message is important, but I honestly don’t know how much people going in blind will like the writing and how the characters are portrayed. Overall, it seemed like a well written fanfic- in a good way, not a Harry Potter and the Cursed Child way. That being said, I did really enjoy a lot of things about this book. They expanded on a lot about Evan’s relationship with his absent father and the aftermath of the big lie. They also expanded on a lot about Connor…

I honestly don’t know how I feel about Ghost Connor. Yes, I’m glad Connor shows up as a ghost in the book. What he doesn’t do is ACTUALLY INTERACT WITH EVAN...LIKE AT ALL! The best parts of the show are when Connor, as a figment of Evan’s imagination acts as a comedic buffer and his “moral center.” However, here ghost Connor exists to give snippets of Connor’s life. He barely comments on what Evan is doing at all even though he sees everything. All of Connor’s sections made me feel like the author was going through the DEH tag on AO3 and picking things to throw in. I liked his sections, but the writers really missed the more entertaining story of having Connor actually commenting about the shit Evan is doing.

So overall, I’d say watch the musical if you can find a bootleg, or at least listen to the soundtrack and then read the book. It was very enjoyable, although I think the ending dragged a bit in its quest to give more closure than the musical. 8.5/10

Bonus Manga

Shimanami Tasogare: Tasuku Kaname, a closeted boy starting his first year of high school meets a mysterious woman named Anonymous who helps him finds solace in a lounge run by other members of the LGBT+ community. This is the kind of manga that really hits and misses for me. It does a great job at portraying the struggles of a community with different sexualities and gender identities, and it has some really great characters and beautiful moments that I really think would be even better animated. But there are some character arcs that I feel are really...incomplete. It feels like the author was rushed into finishing the manga and did the best they could, but certain characters come off as major hypocrites or suddenly act like their arcs never happened. I also appreciate having an asexual character play such a big role, but the chapter where she talks about her identity as a person is just kind of...bizarre. Not to mention I barely understood what was happening for the first couple chapters because everything Anonymous says is so vague. There’s a lot I could say about this manga, but really I think it’s something everyone should read for themselves (and you’ll definitely need your tissue boxes). 8/10

TV Shows!

Arrested Development: “The story of a wealthy family who lost everything and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together.” Aka Ron Howard narrates the shenanigans of the worst people you’ll ever see. Yes, I finally got around to watching this, and yes the first three seasons are hilarious. It’s got the same beats as a soap opera (twins, adoption, losing limbs in seal attacks), but in a sitcom format it’s genius. The fourth and fifth (or at least what there is of the fifth) are just nothing special in my opinion. I thought the fourth season was structured terribly, and once the family starts getting into politics the show tries to be a form of satire that just doesn’t work for it. Plus I live with a family of Trump supporters; so it’s not as funny when you have to live with the racist people the show is making fun of who take all the “wall” stuff seriously. 8/10

Documental: A Japanese...social experiment/documentary/game show type thing on Amazon Prime wherein 10 comedians all get locked in a room together and attempt to make each other laugh without laughing themselves. The twist is each of them contribute 1 million yen to play, and the winner gets the pot of 10 million yen. In the first season, the show is more interesting as a social experiment than it is funny. You’ll like it if you like Japanese comedy. But the thing about Japanese comedy is...well, just picture an episode of Osomatsu-san, with all the disgusting and bizarre shit they do, and then picture real people. Though I do love seeing the faces everyone makes when they’re trying not to laugh! HOWEVER, the second season is so much better. I was laughing so much every episode that it hardly felt like the same show. They also changed the format a little so there would definitely be a winner at the end of the time. There’s still gross weird shit, but it’s a much better season. I give season 1 a 6/10 and season 2 an 8.5/10

Over the Garden Wall: In case you’ve been skipping the entire season of autumn since 2014, OTGW is a 10 episode miniseries that aired on Cartoon Network detailing the journey of two brothers Wirt and Greg who are lost in a mysterious wood called “The Unknown.” But really the whole thing is like a stuck in Purgatory story. It’s one of those shows that goes from adorable and funny to dark as fuck real quick. I think it’s impossible to go through the fall season without watching this at least once. This is another one of those things where there’s nothing I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. The atmosphere is perfect for Halloween, the characters are great (Elijah Wood voices Wirt, and it’s the best), and there are so many hidden clues that after it aired we all demanded a Gravity Falls crossover…

I could go on. This show is perfect except for the unnecessarily silly school teacher episode...and fact that it goes by too fast...and also the fact that now I know Elijah Wood has an adorable singing voice, and I’m salty that he didn’t really sing in Lord of the Rings. This is the atmospheric “watch it once a year” type of show that we desperately need more of...it doesn’t have to be the same characters or even have the same messages, but dang it Cartoon Network you can’t just give us this masterpiece and walk away!!! 10/10

Yuri On Ice: Yes, the figure skating anime. This is Tumblr so I doubt I need to post the summary of the show, but I do talk about it in my Hufflepuff Anime recommendations post. Since I couldn’t watch the Yuri On Ice marathon (which was coincidentally held on my birthday!) I decided to have my own dang marathon. There’s just so much to love about this anime: the music, the animation, the characters, the diversity, the humor, and the accuracy to the sport. But I think the main reason I love this show so much is because, as someone who watches a lot of sports anime, I really appreciate this show doing something different and focusing on ADULTS WHO ACTUALLY RELY ON THE SPORT AS A CAREER and using drama that way instead of the main source of angst being “we have to win the match for our senpai!” This is one of those shows you can watch a million times and still find new things to love! 10/10

Podcasts!

I don’t know why I made a separate section for this, since I only listened to one.

Hey Riddle Riddle: A podcast with three hosts that go talk about riddles and puzzles (aka puzzies and riddies) and role play various ridiculous answers to them. I started listening to it because Justin McElroy was on an episode, and it was pretty funny. The podcast is interesting and entertaining, except for the fact that sometimes their role playing and improve can go on for too long, and they don’t know when to let a joke die. Also one of the co-hosts is really annoying, but the other two make up for it. 8/10

Honorable Mentions

Camp Camp released a Halloween episode called Arrival of the Torso Takers and I watched it...probably four times...I don’t have a problem.

Some shows I watch on actual television came back this fall! Bob’s Burgers, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, Fresh Off the Boat, Speechless, Modern Family (yes I still watch that), and The Good Place!

I don’t know if this was a leak or what, but there’s a new My Little Pony christmas Hearthswarming special, and guys...I thought it was pretty great. Say what you want about this show, but it knows how to do holiday episodes. Anyone who has been a fan for a long time or even fans who have fallen off the show will probably love it. It’s very sweet and never went in the direction I thought it would.

And last but not least, shout out to all the anime coming out this fall...there’s just...so much to watch...please help...

[creativeashproductions]

Painted with Pain // Steve Harrington

Summary: The more liked and calm Hargrove twins intimidates peers through her family tie to the knew King of Hawkins High Billy. Born into a family with an abusive father and a runaway mother you protect each other from your father. When Billy isn’t there to take the hits and learns exactly what you do and who you do in the abandoned classroom what exactly happens to you?

Characters: Steve Harrington x Hargrove!reader, twin!Billy Hargrove x twin!Reader, Neil Hargrove, Max Mayfield, and Susan Hargrove (mentioned).

Words: 2008

Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or the characters involved. I also do now own the gifs or images that may appear.

Warnings: Swearing, parental domestic abuse, angst, and fluff

Author: Caitsy

A/N: If you or a loved on is being abuse you could talk to a respected adult like as a guidance counsellor, police officer, or teacher. There are many numbers to hotlines that can help. Remember if someone hits another person as punishment, they’ve thought before it lands to hit that person. They had intent and it can and will happen again. Be Safe.

Master List

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

Billy wasn’t the nicest person in Hawkins and for good reason but he was a good brother to you when it came to caring for someone. Billy and you were twins that protected each other as much as you could in a house with an abusive asshole of a father and a woman that wasn’t your mother. Billy was the worst of the two of you when it came towards your step-sister but he always taking the hits for you.

“Hurry up.” Billy stated leaning against the car his gaze pointed directly as Max.

“I’m coming.” Max retired reaching for the passenger door handle.

“Backseat.”

“I never get the front!” Max exclaimed.

“Backseat or your walking!” You glared at the young girl.

Max didn’t understand you took the emotional abuse from your father for her so she didn’t have to live the same life you did. While Billy took the physical abuse for you, all because your mother was woken him up when you both were really young and told him to protect you. She immediately fled in the night once she had spoken to Billy and never looked back or said goodbye to you.

“Not fair.” Max muttered gently placing her skate board on her lap.

“You’re really pushing it.” Billy growled at her.

The rest of the ride was loud music, quiet fury in the backseat, and yawning from you as the scenery passed by. Billy did cast you a few concerned looks for the screaming your father did at you last night. Sometimes it bothered you that Billy spend all his kindness on you but nothing but hatred for the rest of the world.

“Y/N’s driving you home if you aren’t a brat.” Billy yelled over the loud music.


“Where will you be?” Max questioned.

“None of your business.” Billy snarled before smiling with mirth, “But if you must know. I’ll be balls deep in Carol.”

“Tommy’s Carol?” You smirked, “Is it true that he…ya know…stares at the guys in the shower room?”

“Haven’t noticed I’ve been hitting Carol’s tight-“

“Look school!” Max exclaimed just wanting to leave the disgusting conversation between you and him. There was something wrong with Billy just openly talking about sex with his sister that freaked her out.

Sharing a smirk with Billy as the ginger haired girl raced out of the car and towards the middle school entrance before the car had even stopped. Getting out with matching smiles you tossed Billy the pack of smokes you sometimes shared while he tossed the keys over the top of the car. Splitting up to your lockers you easily grabbed your textbook for when the neighbouring locker slammed open.

“Can you be any louder?” You groaned throwing your head back in annoyance.

“I could but you’re not worth it or my time.” The owner of the locker said with a smile.

“Idiot.”

“My heart. How will I go one?” He glared back at you.

You grabbed the notebook that went with your textbook before storming off to one of the classrooms that was dedicated to studying. Nobody used them other than making out but there was one classroom that everyone else avoided. It was the one that you used and had threatened everyone from using it. You sat down at the only table in the room to begin using your free period to study.

“Idiot?”

“You said telling to you eat shit and die was too harsh last time.” You chuckled at the arrival. The sound of the lock on the door being engaged echoed in the small room.

“It was hot also.” Steve grinned grabbing your hand as he sat next to you. He pressed a swift kiss on your cheek before leaning back.

‘What time do you want to meet?” You asked playing with his fingers.

“When does dipshit hit come home?” Steve rolled his eyes as he asked the question. He anticipated the playful slap that you never delivered since you began talking to him.

It never came. Ever. You had a personal rule that hitting someone else for any reason could never happen because you were scared you would become your father. You left that abuse for Billy to pick and choose to do.

“I’m taking wannabe rocker home.” You snorted rolling your eyes, “Billy’s got plans between Carol’s thighs later today.”


“You know your step sister does have a name?” Steve defended one of the kids he babysits.


“Just because I got along with her for saving Hawkins, doesn’t mean I like her.” You returned.

“She isn’t-“

“Honey, why are wasting our free period talking about my life when we could be using our mouths for something different?”

You didn’t wait another minute before your boyfriend was glued to your body sitting on the table. Your time went quickly with minimal clothing taken off and evidence of your time together buried under papers in your most hated teacher’s trash basket.

“You little bi-“ Dad’s voice broke when you stepping in front of Max and took the slap intended for her. The slap resonated through the living room leaving your head spinning as you unexpectedly faced the wall.

“Max.” You calmly said, “Go to Susan.”

“But-“

“Now Maxine.”

She fled the room with a concerned hesitation while your father let a sick twisted smile coat his face. The fear inside you intensified but you didn’t regret protecting the child in your home from the brutality that was your father.

“She needs to learn.” He spoke.

“She’s your step-daughter. You know Susan would leave you if you put one hand on her daughter.” You reminded him as you stood your ground.

“Well that’s alright.” Neil Hargrove smiled in his charming way, “Why don’t you go and see if Susan needs help with supper?”

You waited to scan his body language before you turned to leave the room but the unmistakeable sound of a bucket releasing reached your ears. Your spine tingled with recognition of what would come, a violet lashing to your back. When the belt wrapped around your neck you knew you had pissed him off more than anyone in your family had.

“It seems my blood doesn’t know respect.”  He hissed as your struggled to fit your fingers between the dark brown strip of leather and your slim neck.

“H…elp.” You choked as it began to slowly tighten until your back was closely pressed against his body.

“Shame dear big brother isn’t here to save you.”

Darkness edged your vision as you slowly sank to the ground not any relief on the belt wrapped tightly around your throat. When it did lessen a slap on the imprint from before reddened further. Laying on the ground while your father stood above you with the belt in one hand he landed a severely hard kick to your ribs and that was the last you knew before you were unconscious.

“Y/N?” A soft concerned voice spoke.


“What the hell happened?!” Billy roared seeing his twin sister out cold on the ground.

“I don’t know.” Max admitted, “She made me go to my mom and I did it because Y/N can be scary sometimes.”

“Yeah she can.” Billy admitted scooping your into his arms.

That was one of the only times that Billy was kind to Max from the minute they had met back in California. Of course Billy was still abusive to Max and she bore the emotional marks from his words.

Billy managed to threaten a doctor into treating you without making a report or paying the full bill for the treatment. You were placed in the private practice room that the clinic had for the night while Billy stayed by your side.

“Billy?” You moaned in pain.

“Hey sis. How are you?” Billy whispered holding tight to your hand.

“How’s Max?”

“The lil shit is fine because of you.”

“Steve?”

“Harrington? Why would he be here?” Billy seethed with a deep hatred in his eyes.

“Because I’m dating him but don’t tell my brother. He hates him.”

Billy growled to himself before you fell back under the drugs control to calm your pain. You were mumbling in your sleep while Billy slung his jean jacket onto his shoulders before stomping out of the room. He jumping into the car and slammed the car into movement with one destination in mind and bloodlust enveloping him.

The car was still running when he banged not the door to the Harrington household just waiting for the ass to answer. He didn’t know if he should use words of his fist first but he clenched his hands when the door opened to show a middle aged man. In one hand a newspaper and the other holding onto the door frame.

“Can I help you?” The man asked. Billy identified him as Steve with the similar hair house and bone structure.

“Is Steve around? We have to talk about a project.”

“Steve! You had a friend here.” Mr. Harrington called out over his shoulder. Steve halted when he saw Billy standing there fuming in front of his oblivious father.

“Shit.” Steve mumbled pushing in front of his father to step outside. When the door was closed he turned to face his enemy.

“I know about you and my sister.” Billy snarled clenching his fists more.

“No we’re-“

“Cut the shit Harrington. She told me, delirious but she told me.” Billy retorted, “I’m okay with it.”

“Wait. What? You’re okay with it?!”

“Give me a reason to kick your ass dad when you hurt her and you will.” Billy grinned, “That’s what I hear? Steve fucks with girls and when he dates prissy Nancy Wheeler we find out he sucks as a boyfriend.”

“Well looks like your dream of killing me won’t come true.” Steve smiled just as harshly as the two boys squared up with each other, “I plan to marry her and give her the life she deserved,”

“Won’t happen.”

“Excuse me but I have a family dinner I’m needed at.”

Steve was waiting when you got to your locker early on Monday morning with a nasty bruise on your face and bags under your eyes. The violent black-purple bruise on your neck drew the attention of everyone in the hallway, including your boyfriends. You had a limp from trying to not injure your fracture rib more.

“Y/N?” Steve choked out at the battered body of his girlfriend.

“Hey ass-“

“Billy knows.” Steve interrupted gently moving your chin around to take in the bruises and trying to estimate a time where you got them. 
“How?”

“You told home.” Steve whispered, “Did he do this to you?”



“No. Billy would never do this.” You mumbled looking away from Steve’s face.

“Who did it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh we’re talking about it sweetheart.” Steve sternly told you as he pulled you into the closest vacant classroom, “I want to know who hit my girlfriend.”

“My Dad okay?!” You screamed without looking at his. You kept your stare at the window to the playground.

“I’m sorry but what did you say?”

“My father did this.” You cried clenching your fists in the typical Hargrove twins way, “He went to hit Max so I stepped in front of her and took the hit. He didn’t like that so he choked me with his belt!”

Glancing out the door window he saw Billy was walking by and Steve opened the door with fury painted on his face.

“Hey Hargrove!” Steve yelled at your brother.

“What.” Billy seethed holding a cigarette between his lips.

“Thank you for protecting Y/N.”

“It’s my job.” Billy snorted, “This doesn’t change anything Harrington.”

Billy and Steve had a mutual understanding that you were the light of both their lives and you meant everything to them. They would do anything to protect you but the hatred between them didn’t lessen at all. Not even as Steve and you planned a life together and followed through with it.

Forever Tag List

@cityofsobbingfangirls @tas898 @barbidollash @trustnobodyshootfirst @winchesterfanfiction @deanwinchesterisamazing @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @padackles2010 @msimpala67 @deangirl5509 @heyitssilverwolf @therealme13posts @petlaufeyson @professionally-crazed @winterhurricane @tearsandbloodofmyenemies @blackwidow-romanoff @crazybarnes @marvelofcourse @takemetothefictionalworld @destiel67bellarke @ohmy-sammy @fightinthepain @vivabucky @waituntilthedustsettles @daydreaming1393 @cumonbucky @inhumans-of-shield @basicwhiskeyprincesss @soulfull-ofevans @spookass @glitterintheairblog @girl-with-wild-dreams @frickin-bats @darkestgrungeuniverse @shamvictoria11 @buckyappreciationsociety @sammysgirl1997 @fly-f0rever @archer-whovian-violinist @jenn0755 @anamarieswift2194 @unicornofdanger @ifyoudie @jealousbitxh @stormin-thru-glitter @sparklyaura @stilescstilinski @curlyxtomato @katshrev @its-sanaa-k @theoismydad @im-a-light-child @tmriddler @flirtswithdanger @divide-supermarketflowers @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1 @introverted-fandom-human @jennylj16 @potterandbucky @harleenq4life @runs-with-sciss0rs @superhero-lover101 @ridingmoxley @edward-lover18

Stranger Things Tag List

@bilesmccall

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Any Suggestions?

Not My Gif

Partially Inspired by this image

Bodhi Rook x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Librarian!Bodhi, Modern AU

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: You’re having trouble finding a book your friend suggested to you.  Luckily, the librarian at the front desk is more than helpful, with the added bonus of being way too easy on the eyes.

A/N: Hey guys! As some of you may know I’m in the middle of working on my thesis film and need your support if you can.  I need to raise $3,000 in the next two weeks so please, if you can donate to support me.  Any amount will be a huge help.  Follow the link here.

Word Count: 3.2K

           You wandered aimlessly though the library, scanning the shelves to no avail.  Many of the titles caught your eye as well as old familiar authors names, but none were the one you were looking for. 

           You gave a small huff of frustration as you looked the section over again.  You had just checked the library data base and it said the book was on the shelf.  You didn’t want to give up, but the only other option was to talk to the librarian at the front desk.  

          You felt your stomach twist a little in embarrassment.  It seemed silly to ask for help when you knew exactly where the book was supposed to be.  Still, you didn’t want to leave empty handed.  Swallowing your pride, you walk back towards the front.

          The man behind the counter didn’t see you approach.  He was seated so the top of his head barely made it over the edge, his eyes focused on the book he was reading.  The only thing you could make out was a head of slightly styled black hair.

          “Sorry,” you said politely, “could you help me find something?”

          He looked up at you and you felt your cheeks go instantly red.

          He was gorgeous. His face consisted of high cheek bones, a short-trimmed beard, and the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you had ever seen in your life. His slightly bewildered look and the glasses nearly falling off the edge of his nose were doing nothing to help matters.

           “Yeah, sure,” he said. “What are you looking for?”

           “Um…”

           You felt yourself floundering as you tried to remember what words were. Luckily, the shock to your system subsided quickly enough for your pause to remain thoughtful rather than awkward.

          “Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman,” you asked, only slightly stuttering.

           His eyes lit up as he stood to work the computer.

           “Good choice. Re-reading or first time?”

           “First time,” you admitted. “My friend recommended it to me.”

           He gave a soft smile in understanding before looking back at the computer. After a slight pause, a small frown appeared on his face.

          “Looks like it’s checked out,” he said.

          You deflated slightly at the news.  You must had just missed it my a few minutes.

          “Oh, okay,” you said.  “Thank you.”

          You turned to leave, but barely made it a few steps before his voice stopped you.

          “Wait a second.”

          You looked back just in time to see him reach down to grab the book he had been reading, and hold it out to you.

           “Here,” he said. “You can borrow mine.”

           “Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you said quickly.  You felt your cheek go hot again, half way between touched and embarrassed. “You’re clearly in the middle of reading it.”

           He gave a small shrug. “Re-reading it, it’s fine.”

           “I’ll just wait for whoever it is to turn it back in.”

           “That won’t be for another two weeks,” he said. “It’s really okay.  I mean, you might not get the chance again.  People usually say they’re going to read something, then it’s not here, and they put it off, life happens and they never end up reading it. Not that you would, I mean, you might, but I guess…”

           He trailed off as he seemed to realize he was rambling.

           You stared at him for a moment, your eyes switching between him and the book.  There was such clear sincerity in his intent, you couldn’t help an odd smile from spreading across your face.

           “You’re really determined, aren’t you?” you asked.

           “It’s a great book,” he said, as if that were the only explanation you needed.

           A small laugh escaped your lips as you gave him an affirming nod.

           “Okay.”

           You took the book from his hand, cradling it carefully. It had clearly been well read giving the state of the pages, but the spine and binding were still perfectly intact.  You had the impression his occupation had something to do with it.

           “I’ll give you a week,” he said.

           You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.

           “Or what?”

          “Um,” he said, stumbling slightly as he tried to think of a proper punishment.

          “I’ll place you on the no-check-out list?” he questioned.

           “You have one of those?”

           “No, but I’d make one.”

           You chuckled lightly, shaking your head.

           “Fair enough,” you said.  “Thank you.”

           “You’re welcome.”

          There was a small pause between you.  It wasn’t awkward, just lingering as you looked at each other, neither one of you sure of how to end the conversation.

           He broke eye contact first looking down at the book in your hands, then back to you, offering a timid smile.

          “Let me know what you think,” he said.

           “I will,” you assured.  

           You turned and walked out of the library, staring down at the book in your hands and feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

           It took you only two days to finish the book, partially from how good it was, and partially from your own motivation to see the librarian again. He was undeniably attractive, but it wasn’t just that. Despite is slightly timid nature, he made you feel comfortable. His enthusiasm was contagious and you found yourself wanting to know more about him.  

           As soon as you finished the book you made your way to the library.  To your joy, he was sitting at the front desk.  He caught your eye, giving you a surprised, but kind smile as you approached the desk.

           “What did you think?” he asked.

           “Amazing,” you said, excitedly. “The world is so imaginative and interesting and the Marquis de Carabas is just the best. Richard is a little too passive for my taste, but it fits with the whole twisted “Alice in Wonderland” thing going for it.  So, I’ll forgive it.”

           “But you liked it.”

           “A lot,” you nodded.  

           The librarian grinned triumphantly, clearly taking some pride in getting you to read it.  

           “Good.”

           You couldn’t help but smile as well.

           “I actually have something for you too,” you said. “It’s pretty different from Neverwhere, but it’s still one of my favorites.”

           You pulled your book out of your bag and handed it to him.

           He stared at you dumbfounded.  He then looked down at the book in your hand and carefully took it from you, holding it delicately as if it were made of glass.

           “I actually haven’t read this one,” he said. He looked up at you, as a small grateful smile graced his features. “Thanks.”  

           You waved him off as a pause fell between you. His eyes stayed on you and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. You couldn’t help but feel as if you were being examined under a microscope.  A part of you wanted to look away, but another part was curious as to what he was trying to work out.

           His eyes lit up suddenly, as an idea seemed to strike him.

          “Follow me,” he said, quickly making his way around the desk and down the line of bookshelves.

          You were slightly taken aback by his sudden movement, but quickly followed a few paces behind him.  He wove his way through the library, finally coming to the fantasy section.

          “So, no to the passive protagonist,” he asked.

           “Generally speaking.”

           He nodded, glancing up and down the shelves.

           You couldn’t help but watch him as he examined the different titles.  He moved him lips ever so slightly, muttering to himself so quietly you couldn’t make out a word.  His eyes shifted quickly down the line you wondered just how many of the books on the shelf he had read.  You had a lot of question for him once you thought about it.

           “What’s your name?” you asked, as the realization you hadn’t asked dawned on you.

           He turned his head toward you with a surprised look, but it quickly turned to sheepishness as he came to the same conclusion you did.

           “Oh. I’m Bodhi, Bodhi Rook.”

           You felt yourself smiling at the name.

           “Nice to meet you,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

           You held out your hand, which he took to shake. You couldn’t help but note how warm and comfortable his hand felt in yours.

           “Nice to meet you too,” he said with a small smile.

           He let go of your hand, turning his attention back to the self.  It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for and held it out to you.

          “Good Omens?” you questioned, looking at the title.

          Bodhi gave you a small nod and sideways smile.  

           “Trust me.”

           That moment started a pattern between the two of you.  Once or twice a week you would exchange books, talking about what you liked and what you didn’t like, or just about life or anything else that came to mind.

           You loved to watch him as he spoke.  He tended to talk a bit with his hands, especially when he got excited.  His eyes would light up and he smiled a contagious smile.  He made a bad habit of stopping himself part-way though speaking once he became aware of his rambles, asking if he was boring you.  You always shook your head, reassuring him that if he was boring you, you’d tell him.  You hated that he felt he needed to stop, but you did appreciate the relieved smile he’d give you after.

          He also made a wonderful listener.  His eyes were on you fully engaged whenever you spoke.  He only seemed to interject when he had a question and waited until the end of your piece before he commented. Whenever you got into debates about books and characters, you didn’t always agree, but he never talked down to you.

          Bodhi Rook was kind, smart, funny, passionate, handsome and a whole list of things which were turning, your infatuation into something deeper.  Every time you talked you felt yourself sinking further, but you had no idea how to proceed.  You didn’t want to ruin the bit of happiness you had whenever you saw each other, but you also weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself from leaning over the front desk and finally finding out if his lips were as soft as you imagined.

          You found yourself thinking those same thoughts more than once as you trailed after him around the library as he put away some of the turned in books.

           “So, any recommendations,” he asked.

           You shook your head, leaning sideways against the bookshelf as you watched him work beside you.  

           “Not now,” you said.  “At least none I think you’d like.”

           “Really?  What have you been reading?”

           You didn’t answer, feeling your ears go a little red.  You wanted to lie, but you couldn’t think of one fast enough.

           “Paperback Romance,” you said, wincing slightly at your confession.

           You glanced at him, waiting for a judgmental reaction.  He instead just looked confused.

           “Really?”

           “Please don’t judge me,” you mumbled.

           “I’m not judging,” he assured.  “Just surprised as all.  I didn’t think you went in for that sort of thing.”

           “Self-indulgent schlock or romance?”

           He took a moment to think about it before shrugging.

           “Both?”

           You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

           “Well, I do, a bit, but in defense of schlock I believe everyone is entitled to a bit of it,” you said.

           “And romance?” he asked.

          “I’m a sucker for witty banter.”

           “So, you’re more of the Pride and Prejudice, bicker until they make out brand of romance,” Bodhi teased.

           “At least in my fiction,” you shrugged.

           “What about your real life?”

           You froze, taken completely by surprise by the question.

           You looked to him to see he seemed just as shocked by his own boldness.  You thought for a moment he would try to take it back, but he held his ground, looking at your nervously for an answer.

           You swallowed as heat steadily began to rise up your neck. You felt the urge to lie or change the subject creep into your mind, but for some reason, you couldn’t do it.  There was something in the way he looked at you, almost hopeful. You couldn’t lie to him, he didn’t deserve that.

           “In real life, I’d probably take things a little slower,” you said, carefully. “I’d like to get to know the person. I’d want to be comfortable with them, feel like I can talk to them about anything.  I like the idea of us being friends first and figure it out as we go along.  I think finding out all the little things that make you love someone is kind of the fun part.”

          Bodhi didn’t say anything as his eyes never strayed from yours.  

          You suddenly felt simultaneously exposed and confined. Nothing else existed outside of the small aisle of books.

          “So, if you are friends first,” he asked nervously, “how do you go about telling them you’d like to be something different?”

          You couldn’t help a smile from spread across your face as hope filled you. 

          “I’d like to think they’d just know,” you said. “But I suppose one of us would have to make the first move.”

          He bit his lip, turning away from you.  He looked toward the books as if they could give him some sort of answer on what to do next.

          “Any preference as to how?” he asked, glancing at you.

          A part of you wanted to tease him and tell him you expected flowers and fireworks or a boom box being held over his head, but you were tired of waiting. You closed the gap between you, taking his face in your hands as you pulled him into a kiss.  

          You closed your eyes as you moved carefully against him, savoring just how soft his lips actually were.  You poured everything into the kiss trying to show him exactly how you felt.  He let out a small intake of breath allowing you to deepen the kiss, feeling a swell of pride as he groaned against your lips.

          Reluctantly you pulled away, opening your eyes to a dazed and confused Bodhi Rook.  After a moment or so, he blinked himself back to the present, staring at you in awe.

          “I’m not very good at speeches,” you admitted.

          “Don’t sell yourself short, that was downright eloquent,” he said.

          You let out a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

          Bodhi gently took your hands in his, pulling them away from your face.  He then cupped your cheek, stroking it gently as he leaned close to your lips.

          “Do you mind if I confess something too?” he asked.

          You shook your head as he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his own.

          His touch of tender and loving.  His hand stayed on your cheek, caressing the skin while the other found your waist, pulling you against him.

          You responded immediately, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He smiled against your lips before going back for more.  His hand left your face taking a place on the other side of your waist.  You let out a small moan as he nipped gently at your bottom lip.  You parted your lips just enough for him to deepen the kiss. You were so caught up in the feeling of him, you barely noticed you were moving until you back pressed against the bookcase.

          You let out a surprised gasp causing him to pull away.

          He looked at you with hooded eyes, keeping his hands on your waist, but he didn’t move to kiss you again.  

          “Is this alright?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

          You answered him by pulling him closer and smashing your lips on his.

          He got the message kissing you even more fervently than before as he pushed his whole-body flush against you. You tried your best of stay quiet, but it was proving difficult as Bodhi’s hands found their way under your shirt and his fingers rubbed gently circles into your skin.  You pulled away to gasp for air only for Bodhi’s lips to find yours again. You wound your fingers into his hair, giving it a light tug. He moaned into your lips, kissing you deeper in response. You smiled at the reaction, but it didn’t last long as Bodhi pulled away from you lips and started on your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

          “Bodhi,” you gasped, as your hips involuntarily grinded against his.

          You felt his own smug smile as he continued his assault.

          The air around you was starting to grow thick with arousal as the whole world seemed to dissolve.  Unfortunately, the rest of the world was still spinning without you.

          “Um, excuse me?”

          You broke apart turning towards the interruption.  

          One of the patrons stood at the end of the aisle looking between the two of you. The second-hand embarrassment radiating off of them.

          “I kind of need one of the books in this section.”

          Bodhi took a large step back from you as his normal timid persona took over once more.

          “Yeah, of course,” Bodhi said.

          The patron walked quickly down the aisle, checking the slip of paper with the book number on it.  Soon enough, they found their book and all but ran back down the aisle.

          Bodhi and you watched them go until they were out of sight and then back to each other. Smiles formed on both your faces before each of you let out a small bought of laughter.

          You took the moment to look at him, admiring your handy work.  His brown eyes were still blown out almost completely black. His face was flushed.  His hair was a complete mess and his lips were slick and swollen.  If he looked like that, you could only imagine what state you were in.  

          “I think I got a little carried away,” he said.

          “I think we both did,” you admitted.

          He smiled, looking you up and down.  A small silence followed, each of you unsure about what to do next.

          “I get off at six,” Bodhi said. “Do you want to go out, get dinner or something?”

          You felt a wide smile spread across your face as you nodded fervently.

          “I’d like that,” you said.

          He let out a sigh of relief, smiling as well.

          “Good, great,” he said nervously.  “That’s great.  We’ll go somewhere and…wait should I pick you up or should you meet me here?  I don’t really have a change of clothes, but it should be alright, not unless you wanted to go someplace nice, not that I wouldn’t…”

          You cut him off with a laugh.  It seemed crazy that this sweet, rambling man in front of you was the same one who minutes before was grinding you into a bookshelf.  

          “I’ll just meet you here,” you said.  “We’ll figure out where to go later.”

          He nodded in understand, the smile not leaving his face.

          “Yeah, good, sounds good.”

          You gave a soft smile, but you couldn’t find it in you to leave just yet. In all fairness, he didn’t seem to want to leave you either.

          Slowly, you closed the space between you once again.  You didn’t trust yourself with his lips and instead, kissed him gently on the cheek.

          “I’ll see you then,” you said softly.

          He looked at you with nothing short of adoration in his eyes as his lips twisted up into a half-dazed smile.

          “See you then,” he said.

          You smiled, before walking down the aisle and towards the exit.  You touched your fingers to your lips as you held back a gleeful laugh from escaping.  

          You really did need to thank your friend for suggesting that book to you.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

I’ve decided to publish another story from my manuscript.

This one’s called “Post-funeral”, and the main character is named Joel Bishop. He’s a friend of my main characters Paisley Troutman and Neil Solomon, and in this story his older brother has just committed suicide after running for political office in Garibaldi. It’s the 10th story in Whatever you’re on, I want some.

It’s raw.

The Literary Goon

Post-funeral

by Will Johnson

FIRST WE swallowed bitter shards of MDMA, spent hours slip-sliding over each other’s bodies giddy and feverish. I’d been staying at my brother’s mansion with my ex-girlfriend Kylie, up in Garibaldi, for nearly two weeks. We wandered the streets shirtless, dove into foggy backyard pools that didn’t belong to us. We did blow off the toilet tank. We sipped mushroom tea, pinkies erect, then watched Jurassic Park while we waited, dopily dragging on cigarettes and ashing on the freshly installed carpet. We smoked salvia and hash, hot-knifed thumb smudges of tar-black ooze. We were doing okay, food-wise: salmon steaks, cheese-drowned Tostitos, frozen blueberries. We drank Black Label and Bailey’s-infused coffee. Some days we binged on Chinese food and pizza; more often we wandered the linoleum barefoot and mind-fucked, sniffling and twitching, having forgotten what hunger feels like.

And whenever we got bored we circled the neighbourhood spearing my brother’s campaign signs onto unsuspecting people’s lawns, just to fuck with them. Vote for Joshua Bishop, indeed. 

One night Kylie fled. I careened along shadowed boulevards in my brother’s minivan just after 3 a.m., wearing sweatpants and a pair of Santa Claus slippers, chain-smoking cigarettes to keep my headspace level. The night dew-misted my forearm hair from the open window. When my headlights slashed across a lawn three blocks over I glimpsed Kylie under an expansive, shadowed oak with thick, threatening arms. She was curled fetal, wearing red bikini bottoms, dollar store flip flops and my Garibaldi Elementary GRAD OF 2004 hoodie. As I lugged her limply off the grass a dog-walker in a peacoat paused on the sidewalk.

“She had a little too much to drink,” I explained. “We’re all good here.”

“And who are you to her, exactly?” he asked, cell phone palmed. “It looks like she needs some assistance.”

“We’re fine, honestly. I’m just taking her home.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

Kylie moaned in my arms as I lift-shoved her into the passenger seat. Her legs slackly dangled towards the concrete as I gathered up her feet and slammed the door shut behind her. Peacoat man flapped his arms, distressed and honking.

“If you fuck with me,” I said. “I’ll kill your little dog and drink its blood.”

I don’t remember what he said after that, but I do remember the electric surge of hatred that blood-dumped through my veins. This man’s banal existence, his uncomplicated morality, the look of fearful revulsion on his face—all of these offended some feral version of myself I’d unleashed during those weeks. I battered my chest, squeezing out wild tears, and roared in his face until he retreated with his little dog yipping.

Kylie wore a thick-padded bra with metal crescents scooping under each fleshy handful. She whined as I undressed her, paranoid of the oil-like substance pooling on the walls and overflowing into the living room ceiling. I worked my fingers under each goose-pimpled boob, inhaled her chest glister. Kylie wasn’t mine exclusively, but our experiences were our own. I took her earlobe in my mouth, her weight supported in my arms, and worked it with my tongue like a soother. We’d tired of our porn-inspired routines and were finding creative ways to exploit each other’s bodies lazily, gluttonously. A tweaked nipple on mushrooms is like a chest-explosion, while a firmly gripped dick on acid can change your life. Cheek to arm pit, sole to shin, elbow to pelvic bone, we chest-banged and hugged, childlike, in the trenches of our sweat-soiled blankets.

Then we slept.  

Sometimes I get brain whispers from my former self, little buried guilt yelps from the Christian kid I used to be. He’s horrified. Kylie struggles to believe I used to be religious, that I used to keep a prayer journal, that I was once scandalized by swear words. She can’t visualize it, can’t reconcile it with the version of me that she knows: a hipster rich kid with no moral code to speak of. She can’t understand that it’s all the same impulse, that God is nothing more than the Drug of all Drugs, that the hardest thing I ever had to kick was Christianity. Driving by St. Catherine’s I’ve got multi-year histories flashing across my vision. Our youth pastor Trent Stonehouse sings at the front of the sanctuary, takes kids on missions trips to Tijuana and Brazil and the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver, and then there’s all the kids I knew—Amber, Turner, Paisley, Neil and Ty—they’re all memory-cached, worshipping with the Agape Soldiers onstage while I sway awkward in the pews and try to figure out how come I’m the only one who does’t seem to feel it. Sure, I’ve felt the Holy Spirit before—or at least I believed I felt it at the time—and I’ve been one of those ultra-pious kids seizing on the ground, overcome as the Church Moms lay blankets over our God-blissed teenage bodies. Slain in the spirit.

But spiritual awakenings wear off. Slowly, one day after the next, I felt the emotional intensity drain. Outside the context of the St. Catherine’s sanctuary all the meaning dribbled out until I had to go back, soul-hungry, for more. Being a disciple of Christ meant living this special type of life, meant elevating yourself from the mundanity. At Camp Evergreen, around the campfire, we sang “Jesus, I am yours” and two hours later Rachel Peachland gave me a hand job behind the girl’s cabin line, a frantic and gasp-filled spectacle in the shadows. I was a little perv, shame-soaked but undeterred, obsessed with girls but convinced that every lustful thought was a freshly disgusting sin, something to beg forgiveness for. Do you know how exhausting it is to be ashamed all the time? To spend your life hearing how sinful and hopeless you are without Jesus?

Turner used to say the whole point of grace is you don’t need to feel guilt, that God’s already forgiven you before you even dream up our next transgression.

But who said we need to be forgiven at all?

“If you could go back and be Christian again, would you do it?” Kylie asked, morning squinting in my brother’s bed, her voice grumbly from sixteen hours of sleep. I gripped sleepily at my dick while urine hammered into the shower drain.

“I think about that every day.”

“And?”

“Are we talking like a lobotomy-type solution here? Like would I have to give up part of my brain?”

“No, just say you believed again.”

“The thing is, to make that happen I’d have to give it up.”

“What?”

“My doubt. My fucking reason. I’d have to give up my whole personality.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes necessarily. Unless God fucking prances in here and goes ‘hey, Joel, I’m fucking real’, this shit isn’t going to happen.”

I slump into her lap. Kylie was born in a Burmese orphanage, got adopted by white Canadians. Didn’t find that out until three months into our thing, when I met her crazy Mom. She kept all that to herself, and I understood why. People project shit, put labels on you. Who wants to be the starving kid from one of those World Vision commercials? She didn’t want pity; she just wanted to be Kylie.

I liked her way more than I realized.

“But what if the thing with Trent never happened?”

“It wasn’t about him. I stopped going to St. Catherine’s way before all that shit in Mexico, before any of those other guys.”

“Do you think he raped anyone you know? Like anyone in the youth group?”

“Fuck, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just so curious. I’ve never met someone who knew a real child molester.”

“You talk like it’s a movie star or something.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“So what do you think? Do you think he was doing like pervy, Catholic-style shit?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“But what do you think?”

“I mean they say he molested this Mexican kid, right? Or two of them? That’s why he got arrested originally, in Tijuana. But they never came up with any Canadian victims.”

“Who’s they?”

“Investigators or whatever. He was down there for eleven years years, and it’s kind of like why press charges and do all that work if he’s not even in Garibaldi?”

“Shit.”

“But eventually they figure he’ll be back, right? I mean, the Mexicans can’t keep him forever.”

“When is that going to be?”

“The system’s so corrupt down there. Guilty til proven innocent, all that.”

“Turner told me he got letters.”

“From Trent?”

“Yeah, a while back he was telling me stories about Trent. He told me the letter said ‘you can’t turn your back on God’ and ‘don’t let this be an excuse to lose your faith’, all this shit.”

“Are you serious?”

“From prison he was giving him a sermon!”

“Fuck.”

“I mean, we were smoking a joint but I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth. Wasn’t he like Trent’s little favourite? Do you think it was him Trent messed with?”

I’ve considered that plenty of times, but it’s different to say out loud.

“Trent had a weird thing with Paisley Troutman, one of the girls in the worship band. People were gossiping about that for years.”

“But doesn’t he fuck little boys?”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s just like a non-discriminating deviant, right? Just raping whoever, wherever. Dudes’ fucking evil.”

“I heard there’s some people that think he’s still innocent.”

I light a cigarette, roll across the bed and go looking for blow.

“I’m not one of them,” I say.

Kylie sat cross-legged and hungover in the minivan’s passenger seat, reorganizing her purse while we descended the Sea to Sky. Cliffs draped with steel netting loomed to our left. To the right was nothing but open, cloudless sky. The road slalomed along the mountain slope, twist-rising and falling just as quickly. Ocean air swirled around us. A grey thumb of stone emerged in the distance, thrusted up hitchhiker-style, with a few stubborn bushes defiantly alive atop it’s wind-blasted summit forty feet above the road.

The mansions along the highway—stilted and gleaming in the trees—reflected the Pacific’s blue glow from giant mirrored windows. These were the people in my brother’s voting district, who had proudly displayed his campaign signs so they would be visible for commuters passing through the construction progress below. Vote for Joshua Bishop.

No more.

“The last shit we got from Turner was dirty,” Kylie mumbled. “Fucking weak.”

“That wasn’t his regular guy.”

“Says him.”

A bored, sunburned teenager wearing a Solomon Development Ltd. uniform waved us off the highway, past some pylons and orange fencing, and towards the razed shoulder currently being paved. Steamrollers grumbled a few kilometres further on, while in front of us six men guided a crane-suspended concrete median into place. I parked beside a line of trucks facing oceanward, overlooking Howe Sound, and texted Turner. Within a few minutes he appeared, knuckle-rapping the window, and Kylie unlocked the sliding door behind her.

“You two’ve been voracious lately,” Turner said. “You’re outpacing my coworkers, even.”

Kylie ignored him, sullen.

“I’ve got five hundred here, that’s two for last time and three for now,” I said.

“And you’ve got time for a couple lines now?”

An ice-blue sky populated with drifting gulls appeared as I took my first hit. Their beak-tips were dolloped with bright red. I thumbed a nostril for leverage, snorted with all my might, and sucked back. It filled me like sunlight. Wave-crests built frothing and burst into chaos amidst the rocks below.

“That feels better, huh?” said Turner. “I’m gonna fire through my afternoon.”

“I don’t know how you do this dip-shit job, man.”

“Whatever.”

“I would feel like one of those historical Chinese guys they used to dynamite the tunnels, you know? Like some expendable pawn they use for the hard labour. A slave they can just blow up whenever they feel like.”

“Yeah, so what’s your fucking job, Bishop?”

Kylie dabbed residue on her gums, sucking her finger. The world continued outside our windshield, introduced a dangling silhouette to our view-scape. It took me a moment to take this character in: parachuting past with some magical floating canopy, he was trailing an unfurled sign that read NO OLYMPICS ON STOLEN NATIVE LAND while filming with a camera strapped to his wrist. He was wearing those stupid shoes with individual toes, the ones rich men wear, and spandex head to toe—like some gravity-defying ninja spirit. I almost laughed.

How long had he prepared for this moment? What did he imagine he would see, hanging suspended and superior over us? The afternoon wind carried him sideways, tilting.

“Look at that piece of shit,” said Turner. “Look at him flying high.”

On the way back to town, Kylie asked if we could swing by her friend Lauren’s place. She lived in one of the new townhouses by the highway, Garibaldi Estates, on the fifth floor.

“This bitch owes me like a hundred bucks,” Kylie said as we rode the elevator up. “She’s always doing shit like this, and I can’t let her get away with it. You know what I mean?”

I shrugged.

The hallway hung silent following Kylie’s door-battering, but after a minute or two the door rattled and opened. A girl wearing a short pink bathrobe leaned into view, her bed-shagged hair streaked a similar hue. Her eyes were half-closed.

“Uh huh,” she said.

“You gonna let us inside?” Kylie asked.

“I’ll come out’n talk,” she said, pained.

I pretended to ignore them while they argued in the hallway, and watched as a dishevelled crow shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the roof, its talons clicking, just outside the window. Kylie paced shouting while Lauren listened bored with her beautiful brown legs.

Eventually Kylie turned back to me, exasperated. “Let’s go, Joel.”

Once we got back on to the Juan de Fuca Hill she held out her palm, two chalky pills cradled in the creases.

“This is supposed to be boss stuff. It’s K. She didn’t have any cash.”

How can I capture that moment? Kylie halfway-swivelled against the seatbelt, her forehead salmon pink from the sun and her white palm-skin outstretched. The grassy bluffs leading up towards the towering dominance of Mount Garibaldi were stretched out behind her, floating and blurred, while within the carpeted boundaries of our little vehicle we were safety-bathed by the air conditioning. I swallowed the pill. We hurtled towards our future.

“Will you put some more signs up with me later?” I asked. “After?”

“Of course.”

“There’s still so many, babe.”

“We can put up as many as you want, babe.”

Sixteen years old I thumb-dabbed my goggles, donkey-kicking, my headphones tucked under my swim cap. The finals heat for the 100 butterfly at provincial championships, and I was the one standing in front of Lane 4. Ty was there, Sketch and Neil too. I spat air, flailed, my feet splashing on the tiles. I expected to win my whole life, always anticipated easy victory—what does that say about me? I had this daily suspicion that I was a little more interesting than everyone else, a little more talented. My brother Josh was the same way, and all during the campaign I wonder if he had any idea how wrong things could go, how easily his future would evaporate. Vote for Joshua Bishop. I can see his temp’s bemused face, the self-satisfied sneer, as he ruined my family’s life with every fucking word he spoke. As soon as my brother’s news went public, our family scattered into our own grief trajectories, none of us sure how to handle the sudden scrutiny. And before we could decide whether we forgave him, before we could prove to him that being a part of the Bishop family means more than some sex scandal, some political campaign, before my father could even talk to him, he was gone. The ocean will take us all, I figure, but we were left with his body, shower-dangling, at his mansion in Garibaldi. That house! White carpets like cat fur underfoot. This is where I belonged, not slave-waging away in Vancouver.

Underwater is where I feel best, dolphin-kicking streamlined. Life made sense at 16, when my evening revolved around 58 seconds of frenzied exertion. Fuck real life and the future and the present moment too because I’m suspended mid-dive, dripping, while around me the bleachers erupt with cheering. Ice-wind slashes my cheekbones and stings my eyes shut.

Rotting clumps of mown grass collected on my boots as I worked my way up the St. Catherine’s lawn, past the youth trailer in the parking lot, up towards the stained glass window at the apex of the sanctuary. As kids we played this game called Gestapo where the youth leaders would chase us through the streets of Garibaldi with flashlights while we raced from Diefenbaker Park to the safety of the church. I scanned the treeline for spectators, but I was alone. I was thinking about this thing Turner once told me, about how we’re all just energy morphing from one form to the next. In reality, he was the first one to ditch on Jesus. He was braver than I was, less scared of the social consequences, or maybe he was just more honest.

“When I die and go to Heaven, I’m going to walk into the throne room of God and I’ll have three simple words for him: what the fuck?” Turner told me, perched in the Sky Train window, when I asked him about why he wasn’t coming to church anymore.

“If you had kids, what could they do to stop you from loving them?” he asked me.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“So why are we worshipping a deity who routinely condemns whole swaths of society to Hell? It’s so fucking arbitrary, Bishop! You’re born in India, you’re fucked. You’re born in China, you’re fucked. But if you’re a white Christian dude, everything will be fine and you’ll be a happy little saved boy.”

I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t now.

“A God like that doesn’t deserve my love.”

The way Turner talked, he didn’t miss religion. He didn’t miss understanding everything, having that communal reassurance. He liked to be an outlier, a rebel, a heathen.

“You can’t spend your whole life pretending,” Turner said. “Sooner or later you have to admit we wasted our teenage years on a medieval crock of bullshit.”

All that meaning, all those years of prayer, all that struggling and learning—for what? I speared the first campaign sign firmly beside St. Catherine’s front entrance, another one beneath its stained glass, and the final one at the top of their hilly lawn. My brother’s plastic face smiling from each one. Then I sat, butt-damp in the grass, and lit a cigarette. My brother was 33 years old when he died, the same age they nailed Jesus to a fucking cross, but he wasn’t dying for any reason. He didn’t get to close his eyes knowing he’d made some huge sacrifice, knowing that he left the world a better place than when he arrived. My brother died tormented and hopeless, kicking against the porcelain, and who deserves that? How come he got hand-picked for that fate? I felt personally robbed of decades of experience, of the chance to see his face wrinkle, his voice change, his hair go white like Dad’s.

“I really wanted to believe in You,” I told the looming, dark church. “If I had a choice, I’d still be here. You know that.”

I couldn’t believe I was praying. I was still high.

“If there’s something more to this, something I’m missing…I guess what I’m saying is if you’re going to keep me around, You’re going to have to do something.”

I sat there quiet, wondering what God could do, short of flashing across the sky in all His radiance, to convince me of His presence. I heard this quote once, attributed to a 16th century hymn writer: “a God comprehended is not God”. If that’s true, then why even attempt to grasp the mystery? Why call out to Him, why pray, why devote yourself to a deity who can’t (or won’t) respond? When I was a kid I used to make little faith bargains, sending mental requests for God to manipulate the circumstances around me. (“If you really exist, make that kid put something in the garbage can as he walks by.”) Sometimes it even worked. It was like having an Almighty, imaginary friend. But now I’m an adult, a real person, I’ve read fucking Nietzsche. I won’t be so easy to convince. A warm feeling in my chest won’t be enough, a whispered voice deep in my psyche was completely inadequate. I needed something tangible, a Burning Bush-style sign, and I would accept nothing short of a miracle. Maybe my brother could bound out of one of his election signs, let me know this was all an elaborate dream sequence, or maybe Trent would materialize in front of me and explain what happened down in Mexico all those years ago. He’ll tell me our youth group’s implosion was part of some larger, mystical scheme, that St. Catherine’s has some continued role to play in my life. 

Or what? An angel! A demon! Anything. These sorts of visions end up in sermons and heartfelt testimonies, in parables. These experiences alter people’s entire lives, give them purpose and direction. Why not me? Why couldn’t I, just once, be allowed a glimpse of something beyond all this? Why couldn’t I be the one with the faith, the one who understands the light while everyone else stands in the dark?

“Will You speak to me?” I said, my voice trembling. “Are You there?”

[jackpot807]

Stories from Atlas: Aboard the Vesta Pt. 1

This is a small side story from the universe that Wander takes place in. Wander is the “main” story, but there will be many more side stories to add depth to the universe.

WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS TO THE MAIN STORYLINE IN THIS. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU WANT TO KEEP WANDER A MYSTERY

Aboard the Vesta Pt. 1

The USS Vesta is a family-owned ship, funded by the Aurelia family and built by Othoren Industries. It is 850 feet In length and 100 feet in width, with most of its movable space on the first story and the foundation equipment on the second. Its engines are two Hermes-II Iono-Nuclear hybrid engines that generate enough force over a period of a week to propel the Vesta several times faster than the speed of light. At the current speed, Silver determined the Vesta would arrive at Atlas within the hour.

Silver, the onboard AI, constructed by Google in their central lab in California, had spent the past twenty years on the Vesta, quietly calculating over and over again the expenditure of fuel (not that the Thorium would ever run out) and communicating with other nearby AI’s, as they were all traveling at exactly the same speed, no less than a mile apart from each other.

The colonization fleet, colloquially referred to as “The Giant Leap” is the largest civilian flotilla ever made by humanity. Its goal was the colonization of Atlas, a planet several times larger than Earth. It has oxygen. It has water. It has life. And it is magnificent.

Silver had woken up the family she had been charged with looking over for the last twenty years. Willhelm, the father of the family of five, was the first out of his cryo-pod. He ran his hand through what hair he had left to try and get the frost off. Looking forward at nothing in particular, he asked, “Sil are you here?”

“I am here, Will.” Silver replied.

Will looked down the hall. He could see the pods with the rest of his family depressurizing. Air rushed out of the sides, and they opened slowly. He saw William, his oldest, lackadaisy leaning out of the pod and took a step out, arching his back and standing on his toes stretching. Thomas, the younger brother, screamed out “WOW!” in amazement at the awesomeness of finally going through a proper cryo-cycle.

And from the pod next to him, a hand wrapped around the edge, and out leaned the very pregnant Ivonne, his loving wife. She had wanted to have the baby on Atlas, so she could have bragging rights about having the first alien-born child. The Aurelia family was all awake and ready for the long day ahead.

“Sil can you make some breakfast please?” Ivonne asked. To which Silver replied in her oddly human tone, “I have hot plates of bacon and eggs already on the table, Misses Aurelia. Along with a can of coffee to warm you up.”

Silver took a moment to recheck a parameter or stored data, then continued, “The fleet has begun a holding pattern around Atlas. The Fleet Leader has given the order to enter the atmosphere within the hour. I left an agenda for Mister Aurelia on the table for you to go over, but to keep things simple, you are to report to Captain Andell when we land.”

Will and Thomas were already in the kitchen, face deep in breakfast. He helped Ivonne out of the pod and the were walking out of the hall and into the kitchen as well. “Thank you, Sil. Let the Fleet Leader know that we are awake and getting ready.”

“I will.” Silver replied.

He turned to Ivonne, “How was it?” He asked.

“Well I feel a little sick, but the book said that’s good. I think I just gotta get some food in me and I’ll be all set.” She said happily. The prestige and honor that being part of the Giant Leap gave fulfilled a personal milestone for her. She liked knowing she was part of, well, a giant leap for mankind. It was named after Neil Armstrong’s quote when they first landed on the moon back when space travel was in its infancy. “One giant leap for mankind.” It held a sort of wonder for her that is normally reserved only for children. But even now, she’d look up at the sky and marvel at the enormity and possibility of it all. And she finally had the privilege to realize the potential. With her family, no less.

Wilhelm was a man of ambition. Working only directly underneath Chief Engineer Hardman, he wanted to take his place one day, and be the man who built Atlas up from the foundation. But how could he ever compete with Hardman, the genius? Hard work, that’s how. He knew in his heart of hearts that one day, the mile-high buildings will all have the name Aurelia on them somewhere.

As for the kids? Well, what young boy didn’t want to be an astronaut?

They all sat down for breakfast and got right to it. Will was seventeen, and the doctor said he was probably going to grow to be really tall. Actually, he’s tall now. 6’2 to be exact. And he eats like a horse.

“Will slow down or you’ll get sick.” Ivonne told him. He didn’t respond, but he did slow down a bit.

Thomas was ten. He wanted to be like his dad and build space stations and stuff. He didn’t know it at the time, but he wasn’t aware that it wasn’t as simple as ‘putting together legos’ like he’d always compare it to. There are wires that need to be connected, radio frequencies that need to be tuned, nuclear reactors that need coolant, etcetera etcetera.

Indeed, getting onto this prestigious group was no small feat. Wilhelm needed a hail mary to get onto this project. And he had one, in the form of the ISS. He turned that thing from a decaying husk, into a megacity floating above Earth. Almost all of the industry is done in space, now, thanks to him. His oxygen compression and modular foundry techniques are written in books, now. And that is what got him onto this project as a commanding figure. And man was it good.

Good times. Good times.

“I have a transmission from the Ambition.” Silver said, breaking Wilhelm from his reminiscing.

These moments were always super exciting for the family. A message from the flagship, the USS Ambition, were usually messages from either the Fleet Commander or a Supreme Governor back at Earth. This one, though. This is going to be an important message. Maybe even from the Emperor himself. The thought of it made Thomas both excited and nervous. He was in a world of wonder that most kids could only imagine. A world of fairytales and adventure.

“Put them through, Sil.” Wilhelm said.

On the table, the hologram of Admiral Emerson appeared. Tall, broad and commanding, Admiral Emerson was the highest authority of the fleet. Wilhelm had only seen him once, since most of the time he relays information through Hardman, who talks to Emerson. In a fleet of five hundred million people, people of Emerson’s stature gain a sort of mythical bearing. Like a King or Emperor. All those days of talking to lowly supervisors and technicians set the mood to make a visit from someone of such a high position extraordinary. Of course, it wasn’t a transmission to the Vesta exclusively. Rather, the whole fleet.

“Men and women of this fleet. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Admiral Hugh Emerson. You all already know this, but you are all a part of something big. Something monumental. Within the next thirty minutes, you will enter the atmosphere of the planet Atlas, where we will set a foundation and build up the next epoch of human history.”

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. He spoke firmly and deliberately. Each word held a significant gravitas to them, as did his character, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a significant moment in human history. From the discovery of fire, to the industrial revolution, the first steps on the moon and the creation of AI. This is the next step in our story. And it is you who will be telling it. You are the bringers of prosperity and plenty. You are the architects of ambition. You are the creators of happiness and life. Each and every one of you are the best and brightest humanity has to offer. And I know we will create a perfect, clean and magnificent society that everyone back home will admire and envy.”

“This moment will define humanity for centuries to come.”

The words vibrated through the air, exciting everyone. An entire world of wonder was making promises of happiness and good lives to all. Wilhelm smiled and held Ivonne’s hand.

“Everyone move to your positions and await orders. This is Admiral Emerson of the USS Ambition, wishing all of you a good day. Ambition out.” And with that, the hologram flicked away.

Everybody, not just the Aurelia’s, everybody got goosebumps. Everybody in the fleet, and everybody back home had heard that broadcast. It was a message of hope - a message of wonder and a message that promised that everything will be okay.

“I am receiving a request for a system takeover by the Ambition central AI. This is per the request of Admiral Emerson and part of stage 1. Should I relinquish control to them?” Silver asked.

“Yes, please. They’ll guide us to our zone.” Wilhelm replied.

All around the planet, millions and millions of ships were over their designated landing zones, carefully selected because of their unique advantages. Some were over mineral deposits, some were by the water. Some were on especially fertile land and some were in exotic forests. The Vesta was assigned to a location near the North Pole. Wilhelm will lead a group of a few thousand engineers to place the foundation for a space elevator that would connect the planet to a space station which has yet been built. This was mainly a civilian fleet, and the few military vessels that were there, were to remain in orbit unless something required them to entire the atmosphere.

The Aurelia’s all gathered at the flight deck and watched outward. Before them was beauty so great that words cannot do it justice. Deep green mixed with the blue and white in a wonderful painting of creation. Even from up here, they could see the wide rivers and the deep oceans. The white sands of the deserts and the green of the fields and the forests.

There were auroras all over the planet. They could see them now that they were close. Velvet waves of green, blue and pink waving through the atmosphere, adding to the mystery and allure of Atlas. The placement of the planet from the star it orbited meant that such cosmological activity couldn’t have been possible. One of the big questions that scientists wanted to answer was “How are these auroras forming?” Where the Vesta is landing, aurora activity will be near the maximum level, providing a great show for the kids at all times.

“Here we go…” Ivonne said, putting her arms around her kids as the Vesta began descending along with all of the other ships. Atlas was getting closer and closer, along with all of their hopes and dreams. A new beginning was approaching.

Suddenly, the Vesta violently lurched and shook, knocking everyone off balance. This can’t be turbulence.

“Sil, what was that?” Wilhelm asked.

There was a long silence from the AI.

“Silver!” Wilhelm asked again. Thomas got close to Ivonne and she held him tight.

“...Something is happening, Mister Aurel-” Was all she could say before an arch of blue lightning rippled along the ceiling and along the flight panel, deafening them all. A fire sparked in the instruments, they could smell it. The ship began to jolt and vibrate.

Wilhelm turned to Ivonne and looked at her. She was clearly worried. “Get the kids into the escape pod.”

“What’s happening, Will?” She asked, trying her best to keep the kids calm.

“I don’t think it’s anything, maybe just-” He was interrupted by a cacophony of roars as the circuits and wires of the ship began to crackle and fizz.

“Coooooooooode 1106” Silver said, her now wobbling voice overlayed with static said. Wilhelm knew that Code 1106 meant Silver was on her way out. Something critical to her just blew up. And if she’s getting torn apart, so is the ship.

“Code 110-” Silver’s voice was suddenly replaced by a high-pitched screech as her language center melted from a fire deep within the bowels of the ship. Thomas cried out in fear and clutched onto Ivonne for dear life.

“Dad we gottta-” Will said to his father before his father interrupted,

“Everyone get to the escape pod!” He bellowed over the shaking hull and sparking electronics. They all ran out of the flight deck and to the back of the ship where the escape pod was. They got in and Wilhelm locked the door behind them. Sometime in the rush to get there, Thomas had started crying and Will was asking too many questions that Wilhelm didn’t have the answers to. He could feel the Vesta starting to dive.

“All that fucking equipment we got up in the cargo…” He cursed.

He pressed the launch button. Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Nothing happened. Now he was starting to panic. The escape pod was fried, too, even though it was a closed circuit system. This is bad. He had to think quick. He knew the Vesta would not burn up in the atmosphere. The crash is what will kill them. But if he could slowly ease down onto the flat arctic…

He decided he had no other choice. He got up.

“I have to go guide us onto the surface.” He said. Ivonne knew what that meant. Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened.

“Will, don’t do-”

“It’s the only hope we got, Ivonne! Everything is fried and if I don’t try, we’re dead!” He yelled over the roar of the vibration. Thomas was too scared to listen, but Will shot up, “No, dad, you’ll fucking die!” He said.

Wilhelm was breathing quickly. He knew he had to act fast. This might be the last chance he ever sees his family. He put his hand on Will’s shoulder.

“William I have to!”

Will’s eyes began to flood with tears, “No, dad! Don’t!”

Wilhelm gripped onto Will’s shoulder tight, “Listen, Will. I need you to step up and be strong for Tom and your mother! If I don’t make it, you need to be strong! You need to be strong for me, Will! Can you do that?!”

Will doesn’t know what made him say yes, but he nodded his head and sniffed back a tear. Wilhelm smiled, “I love you Will.”

“I love you Dad.” He replied.

Wilhelm turned to Ivonne, who held Thomas close. She yelled over the chaos, “You better come back! Don’t you dare leave me with these two!”

Wilhelm tried to smile at the horribly-timed joke, but all he could do was lean down and kiss her.

“I love you!” He said.

“I love you too, Will! Forever and always!”

Thomas was too scared to really acknowledge what was going on. He was crying into his mother’s shoulder and wasn’t listening. Wilhelm leaned down and turned Thomas to face him, saying, “I love you, Thomas!”

All Thomas could do was cry in his face, screaming, “DON’T GOOOOOOO!!!”

“I’m sorry rocket man, I gotta!” He replied.

Thomas kicked and screamed. He wasn’t going to make this better. Wilhelm said, “Thomas, remember the moon? Remember the moon Thomas?”

Between sniffles, Thomas muttered, “Yeah…”

“Well whenever you don’t think I’m here with you, just look up at the moon. Alright Thomas?” He asked desperately, trying to calm him down.

After a pause, Thomas said, “Okay…”

Wilhelm shed a tear. “I love you!”

He took a step back and looked at his scared family. His life. His reason to get up in the morning. His light. His happiness. Everything. He knew he had to do this. For them. He popped open the door, yelled a final “I love you!” to them, and closed the door.

He ran down the corridor back up to the front of the ship as quickly as he could. The ceiling was on fire, as was most of the flight panel. But he knew that, when the electricity goes on a ship like this, the massive pneumatic backup pumps could still control the wings. He could do this. He has to do this.

All of a sudden his vision shook and he couldn’t think. The world became a maddening blur of grey and black, melting into each other. What’s happening? He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t talk and he couldn’t see. He could feel himself slipping away as if his mind were sinking into an ocean of darkness.

Focus.

He didn’t know what was happening, but the visions of Thomas and Will and Ivonne flashed into his head. Somewhere in the symphony of chaos, a single, determined resolve was made to pilot this ship to safety even if it kills him.

He grabbed the stick.

Flames were spilling over the Vesta, flowing over the cockpit window. The colors were melding with the green of the land and the grey of the ceilings and walls, adding to the confusion. All of his energy was devoted to pulling the stick up and concentrating on remaining lucid. In a moment, the ship was a mile above ground and he could see it approaching too fast. This is it. A final effort. For his family.

He pulled back on the stick as hard as he possibly could. He couldn’t see anymore. The memory of his wife and two sons and unborn daughter were…

They were melting away.

What’s happening to me? He thought.

The ground is approaching. He is nearly level, now. He doesn’t know how low to the ground he is, but he knows he is seconds away from impact. The white expanse of snow was all he saw. A perfect calm suddenly flooded over him and the ship and the turbulence subsided, as did the assault on his mind.

That final moment of calmness allowed him to try to recollect his thoughts but he found there were no thoughts to recollect.

The ground is close.

He closes his eyes.