#there was a plethora of those Really Weird People clinging to the memorial day like thats what it means to be an american

[kitkatcadillac]

im just thinking since ive been seeing mentions about it on my dashboard lately, re: 9/11 jokes (/gen), some brief(sort of) thoughts

so listen. i get it, especially when things just bolt across the internet at mach 12, that things lose context the further they arc out of their circles. there IS a place and time for 9/11 jokes, but it isnt because 9/11 itself was funny.

like, my dude??? genuinely think about these things before you just pick up thinking theyre funny because you saw people laughing about them. that was a real, genuine tragedy. real, actual people died. i remember being sent home from kindergarten because i lived near baltimore at the time and there was this massive, genuine fear about doing whatever it took next to hit the pentagon next. re: people who did not deserve it really, truly died in horrible ways. life was a little different even for those of us who werent directly impacted by losing someone we know or getting hurt.

but you know what really, truly, deadass, ABSOLUTELY deserves to have the absolute piss taken out of it??? this weird red-blooded american culture around it.

listen. listen. its one thing to remember a tragedy, right? its okay to take a moment of silence, to think about what happened, what we have, things to be grateful for. maybe use the opportunity and mindfulness to go educate. but its undeniable theres some absolute fucking weirdos around this. you know them. people who want to force people to look at it and... idk. do something??? admit something???

theres some weird, weird people who take that tragedy, and they absolutely use it for traction to guilt people. to fuel some weird “us vs them” rhetoric, usually “america vs the rest of the world.” and maybe just at the lightest level, thats like... one thing. but you see how “us vs them” when applied to 9/11 can get really ugly, because thats definitely something that happened even when the tragedy happened in the first place. people got incredibly racist. a man was murdered for looking a certain way and wearing a turban the day-of, if i remember.

so these weirdos, you know... a lot of them, they take that time to boost a racist, islamophobic rhetoric. THOSE fuckers are the ones you wanna fucking dunk the SHIT out of with their 9/11 circle wanks. THOSE people you want to take the absolute piss out of. THOSE are the target of the vast majority of the whacked-out 9/11 jokes, where that started out.

9/11 was a very real, very devastating event. and nothing fuels shithead racists and bigots like a tragedy that has a superficially easy target to point fingers at. i cant tell you that fighting that clean is productive, just if youre making an ass of someone, at least know what youre doing and why youre doing it, you know? get their asses, but get their asses with the knowledge.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Book Review: City of Ghosts by Victoria Schwab (V.E. Schwab)

REVIEW

Cassidy Blake can see ghosts. Ever since the day she almost died, she has a special connection to the afterlife – a land beyond the Veil that separates the living from the dead. Her best friend, Jacob, is a ghost who enjoys an afternoon spent reading comic books and trying (though failing) to move things like a poltergeist.

When Cassidy travels to Scotland for her parents’ new television show, The Inspecters, she finds herself wrapped up in a city full of ghosts. Edinburgh has a long history of death which leaves the landscape riddled with a plethora of haunted places, from dungeons and castles to bed and breakfasts. Ghosts are everywhere.

Cassidy doesn’t really mind the presence of ghosts. Jacob is a light-hearted young man with a pleasant sense of humor who is actually a comfort to be around. Though some haunted places do carry a feeling about them. A bad feeling. Malice. Sorrow. Grief. Those are places Cassidy tries her best to avoid but sometimes she doesn’t have a choice. The Veil – that gray, fog-like silky curtain separating the living and the dead – sucks her under, no matter how hard she tries to fight it.

Then one day she finds herself stuck in the Veil. A living girl among the spirits of the dead and they all envy the warmth and light of the life she carries in her chest. The life they don’t have.

When Cassidy’s life is stolen right out of her by a malevolent spirit, it’s a race against time and the dead to retrieve her life before it’s too late and she’s stuck behind the Veil, becoming a ghost herself.

What I Liked About This Book

The Atmosphere

I loved the interpretation of the Veil. This slippery, floaty, gray shroud of a thing that seems alive as it grabs at Cassidy. Sucks her in. Ripples around her knees. Sometimes it’s soft as silk when the threat of danger is low. Other times, it’s hard as lead, indicating that danger is near.

The haunted places that Cassidy visits have a deliciously creepy feel to them, but it’s not too over-the-top for readers who want to sleep at night. When Cassidy visits a crypt and a prison, the slow drip of water, the cooler air, the empty, hollow feeling is perfectly portrayed in a concise way that isn’t overly wordy or bogged down in details. It paints a picture that draws you in and keeps you moving forward, just like Cassidy is drawn deeper into the narrative.

Navigating A New Landscape

Cassidy is from America. So when she’s plunged into Edinburgh, Scotland, she has to navigate all the things that have changed, i.e. an elevator is called a “lift”. I liked that Schwab added the clumsy adjustment to these cultural and geographic differences. They’re usually glossed over, or barely addressed, in most fiction.

It makes us, as the readers, relate to Cassidy even more. I especially like her comparisons when it came to food. American french fries versus UK chips. American potato chips versus UK crisps. American cookies versus UK biscuits. They’re just little things that don’t factor into the plot, but they’re details that we, the readers, have experienced ourselves. It makes it a little easier to put ourselves in Cassidy’s shoes.

It’s Spooky but Not Too Spooky

I’m a huge sucker for eerie, spooky reads. I will snatch up a creepy, gothic setting in the blink of an eye. But I also know that not everyone wants or likes something that messes with your peace of mind, especially for younger readers.

City of Ghosts isn’t super scary. Yes, there are ghosts, but they’re not screaming monsters or demonic, twisted creatures that clawed their way up from the depths of hell. These are simply people who still cling to the land of the living through memories and the grief of loss. They’re caught in their own loop, waiting, cold, until someone releases them to the rest they long for beyond the Veil.

For readers who want an adventure, City of Ghosts provides just enough of the strange and the weird to draw you in without scaring you into sleepless nights.

Crossposted from my book blog: The Librarian’s Bookshelf

[rainesclan]

Out of the Woods (Dan x MC) [Part Four]

Link to: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A/N: Okay so I may or may not have unintentionally lied about this being the last part. It took on a life of its own as I was writing it, so change of plans…there’s gonna be a couple more parts. Guess it wasn’t meant to be over yet! I also threw together a Spotify playlist of songs I listen to while writing these ILITW fics for anyone who’s interested.

Description: With Noah and Jane’s would-have-been birthday coming up, things begin to go south.

Pairings: Dan x MC, Noah x MC

Rating: PG-13 (some stronger language)

Words: 2,060

The dawn sky was still streaked with darker shades of blues and greys when Kayleigh spread an old knit blanket down on the grass at the tree line of the chillingly familiar woods. It was silent aside from the occasional flittering of wildlife running through the leaves littered beneath the bare trees and the murmur of the wind rattling through the branches. She shivered involuntarily in response to the bitter cold, and she pulled Noah’s old denim jacket tightly around her shoulders as she sat down, her body facing the looming woods that she didn’t dare to venture any further into.

It wasn’t the first time she had gone back to the woods, although she knew her friends would be anything but happy if they knew how often she found herself drawn back to the spot they had silently vowed to never go again. Something always drew her back. It was a compulsion rather than a desire to be there that she knew they wouldn’t understand. And that desire had only grown stronger when she checked her calendar that morning to see the date.

Next week, they would have turned eighteen. Noah and Jane.

She never actually went to the ruins. Not only did she like to believe that she wasn’t stupid enough to do such a thing, but she wasn’t sure she could handle it even if she’d wanted to. Instead, she would bring a blanket and sit a few yards back from the tree line. Sometimes she would just sit and watch…as if she was expecting to see or hear something – anything – to let her know he wasn’t suffering…but most of the time she came with something to say.

He probably couldn’t hear her, but maybe he could. And maybe it would be beneficial for him to know that someone still thought about him. Still cared about him.

That morning, she had been particularly anxious. The reoccurring nightmare about Homecoming that she had become all too familiar with had rattled her awake in the middle of the night, and she wasn’t able to get back to sleep afterwards. Instead, she passed the time turning over memories and thoughts of how things used to be. They were thoughts she had become so used to that she didn’t even cry anymore. Sometimes she would feel a chill deep in her core, but she didn’t feel sadness, per say. She just felt numb.

She liked to take short trips out to “talk to” Noah on those days when she would get particularly caught up in thinking about him. Something about it made her hold on to the good memories that they’d made as opposed to lingering on the last night of his life.

The wind stilled when she sat down, crossing her legs beneath her as she stared out into the woods. Silence lingered in the air for a long few minutes, and she took a deep breath before exhaling and beginning to speak.

“Hey,” she said, as if in normal conversation.

There was no surprise when she was met with only more silence in response.

“I was just…” she paused to search her own thoughts. “I was thinking about you a lot last night. Because of your birthday coming up and all, I guess.”

She fiddled with one of the sleeves of the denim jacket that covered her arms, curling her hand into a fist and tucking it inside. The wind rustled the bare branches of the trees again, as if it was urging her to continue on.

“I miss you, Noah.”

It was the first time she had allowed herself to admit it aloud, and once the words fell from her lips, she felt a metaphorical weight being lifted from her chest. Tears burned behind her eyelids for the first time in a long time. She missed him. Maybe her friends didn’t, and maybe they couldn’t understand why she did, but she missed him more than she was even consciously aware of at times.

“Things have been…weird I guess. Everyone’s kind of just pushing past what happened. It sucks when everyone’s moving on and you still feel like you’re stuck, you know?”

He did know. The thought of it sent a chill up her spine. That feeling was ultimately what drove him to his betrayal. The words seared in her thoughts, and she winced internally at the memory.

She would never be able to forget that night for as long as she lived. The feeling of his cold, metal blade against her neck was nothing compared to the feeling of her blood running ice cold, and the surge of nausea that churned violently in her stomach when she’d realized what was happening.

The person she’d trusted the most betrayed them. Lied to them. Lied to her.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be angry – not even during times like these when she would reflect on everything – because she knew who he really was, and while she would never understand why he did what he did, she forgave him.

“You know I wanted to hate you?” She asked the trees, and the wind gusted again. “I really tried. To hate you, I mean. Things would be so much easier if I just…” her voice cracked, and she didn’t notice that she was crying until she touched the wet stains on her cheek. “If I just hated you.”

The air was quiet around her – almost too quiet – and when she sniffled, it echoed through the emptiness.

“I can’t though.”

She pulled her knees closer to her chest to hold in the sob that threatened to surge up into her throat. The fact that she couldn’t move on was suffocating, and it had only worsened since the drunk driving assembly. A part of her – a big part of her, at that – was so hopelessly into Dan, but another part of her was still clinging onto the past…as if Noah was coming back. As if he was even going to know.

Maybe he wasn’t even out there anymore…and if he was…she knew he was probably no longer the Noah she shared all of those memories with. If he was still there, trapped in what remained of the ruins after sacrificing himself for his sister, there was no telling what he had become. She knew there was a strong possibility he’d turned into what Jane had turned into. He was Noah…but he wasn’t Noah.

And then there was Dan – who had been the center of her elementary school games of “He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not” while she and Lily would pick petals off of daisies at recess – making his interest in her abundantly clear. But he made her nervous. He shouldn’t have been into her. Sometimes she even found herself thinking that he must have just been taking pity on her.

With her track record as of late, trust wasn’t easy to come by. Pushing him away was a defense mechanism. The last thing she needed was to get wrapped up in him – the guy of her childhood dreams – only to find out she was a charity case. A pity date, because – as Britney and Jocelyn always made clear – who else would be willing to date her?

She wanted to trust him fully, but she couldn’t. Not when it was someone she cared about as much as she cared about Dan. If he, of all people, hurt her, or broke her trust, she honestly wasn’t sure if she would be able to recover. Not after what happened with Noah.

The cold breeze streaked through her short locks of blonde hair, and she glanced down at her watch as she buried her nose into the denim fabric that still smelled like him, content to just sit there and listen for any sign of him for the rest of the morning.

3:52

Dan stood in front of his locker in the empty hallway, unable to suppress a huff when he looked up at the clock above the bulletin board that had been littered with fliers for the plethora of fundraisers that had been going on since Homecoming. The school had seen its fair share of damages, and the reparations didn’t exactly fit into the budget, as Lucas had told him one day during lunch.

3:15 was when he told Kayleigh the team would be done running drills. It was her idea to meet up to talk in the first place, and now over a half an hour later, she still hadn’t shown.

He fiddled absentmindedly with the dial on his locker to keep his hands busy, and after what felt like at least another five minutes of waiting, he finally pulled out his phone to send her a short text.

???

Sinking to the floor, he took a seat in front of his locker, stretching out his legs in front of him as he listened to the muffled sound of the band practicing in the auditorium. Several more minutes ticked by before he checked the clock again.

4:07

Screw this, he thought, and he stood up abruptly from where he sat.

If she couldn’t bother to show up, he couldn’t bother to wait around for her. It was obvious that she wasn’t coming, and a sudden wave of frustration washed over him as he thought about the fact that she’d blown him off and had him waiting there for almost an hour like a lovesick puppy. Unsure of how to handle it any other way, he kicked the locker door with force to channel his frustration, only to spot Lucas standing a few feet down the hall as he did so.

“Uh…” Lucas paused before taking a few steps closer. “You okay, man?”

He shook his head before his friend could delve into a deeper line of questioning. “Have you talked to Kayleigh at all today?”

“No. She wasn’t in English before. I don’t think she came to school.”

Dan fluctuated between frustration and worry, and he squeezed his eyes shut briefly to gather his thoughts. His irrational mind wanted to be pissed that she was jerking him around. He wanted to say “screw it” and just be done with her until she could figure out what she wanted. But the part of him that knew her and what she – or all of them, for that matter – had been through, knew he needed to be understanding. And if she wasn’t showing up to school something may have happened.

“Did you try calling her?” Lucas asked.

“No. I sent her a text and she didn’t answer.”

Lucas had never been particularly good at hiding his expressions, and when he furrowed his eyebrows, Dan could tell he was worried.

“Maybe one of us should call her,” Lucas suggested. “I mean, I’m sure she just took a personal day. Or maybe she was under the weather. But it’s better to be safe.”

“I’m just gonna stop by her place on my way home,” Dan told him with a shrug.

If she wasn’t answering her texts, he doubted she’d be answering her calls, and there was no point in calling only to be put in touch with her voicemail. He turned to head towards the back doors that lead out to the parking lot before he heard Lucas’s voice again.

“Dan,” he called to him, and Dan turned to look at him once again, the worried look on his face only looking more pronounced than it had just a minute ago. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two…but I just thought I should remind you…” he paused briefly. “Noah and Jane’s birthday would have been next week.”

Oh.

A chill ran through his body at the words.

Would have been.

Sometimes he still found himself forgetting that they were gone. Both of them.

Dan thought back to the subject at hand before responding.

“So she’s probably-”

“Not handling it well?” Lucas finished for him. “Yeah. I doubt it.” He pushed his glasses up further onto the bridge of his nose when he spoke. “I’d go with you to check on her but…”

“You’ve got class president crap to handle. I get it,” he assured him, and he glanced at the clock on the wall again to see that the minutes were ticking closer to 4:30. “It’s fine. I’ve got this one.”