Happy Thursday! Just finished finals week and absolutely destroyed all of my exams, so on a sort of related note here’s a boring shot of me minus my entire face because I just couldn’t seem to get the right angle, today. Also, my partner in one of my courses bought me book one of TRC which was really sweet (hardcover too omfg r u kidding??) and I can’t wait to die with all of you soon.
Author’s note: As requested by @nikkitasevoli , a one-shot based on a quote from a poem that she loves. I decided to make this short but sweet journal entry from Jared’s POV so I hope you enjoy. XOXO
Trigger Warning: N/A
“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the skeptic, an ardent zealot.” -E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
December 19, 20XX
Love. It sounds interesting and desirable in poetry books. The woman is madly into the man and him into her but I would rather not walk down that path. That was until I met her. Her very essence was very much different. She accepted me for me. There was no compromise. No telling me not to be who I am and in the end, she made me a better man.
“I’m Nia” she giggled. It was the first time that we met.
“You are mine and I am yours. Forevermore,” she moaned years later with her hands laced around my neck as we danced under the moonlight.
I remember when we first saw one another. Eyes like fire setting ablaze my soul with every gaze. Lips like electricity sending shockwaves through my body. Her body. Perfection. Like spring blossoming forward all of the things that I ever wanted. The cries filled the room followed by the immense amount of joy.
“You are amazing,” I kept saying to her as I placed kiss after kiss on her forehead.
I stood over him. Eyes shut as his hands slightly reached over his face. I looked forward to telling him all about love. About soulmates. To convert him into something that I thought I wouldn’t ever become as I reminisce about my past. A zealot for love if you will. Never would I have thought that he would be here or that she would lie there holding him in her arms. Her ring glistened from the sunlight that peeked through the window as she caressed his face. When she stared up at me, she smiled as she placed him in my arms with tears in her eyes.
“I love you,” escapes my lips more than any other phrase as I cradle him in my arms. My son.
It’s real. Love. Very much so regardless of what others may say to you. That tingle in your spine. Butterflies within your stomach. I crave it more than anything especially now. His eyes awaken as his mouth searches for sounds to express himself only to release coos. The smile that shot across my face. The sounds of me calming him in my arms. Looking around the room I could see it. It’s real. Love.
“He’s perfect,” echoes through the room as my brother, tears filling his eyes, comes over to hold his nephew. My son. My. Son.
Taking a step back, I watch in awe of them all. In awe of the entire situation. It’s happening. So humbling and surreal. So overwhelming with its almost supernatural intensity. The coos evolved into cries. I instantly reached out for him, holding him against my chest as I walked him back to her. My fire. My world. She took him into her arms knowing exactly what he needed. The glow from her skin was as intense as the fire she sent through my soul.
“I love you,” escaped my mother’s lips as we all came together and held each other close.
Little by little the room became empty until it was just us three. My wife. My son. Me. Sounds odd to say aloud. She gestured for me to take him since he was done nursing and she needed rest. As his skin touched mine, that fire raged through me again. The fire to protect him. Teach him. Help him grow. I wanted him to have it all. To experience it all. To be better than me. To be himself and free. To think that years ago, I would see a couple and say that could never be me. And now this. My wife. My son. Me.
Midnighters: YA horror trilogy mixes Lovecraft with adventure #10yrsago
The concluding volume of a new young-adult horror trilogy – Midnighters – from Scott Westerfeld has been published, concluding a wonderful, spooky romp that brings together the best of HP Lovecraft with Westerfeld’s great talent for telling adventure tales that capture teen problems perfectly.
I’ve written about Scott’s YA novels here before: So Yesterday (a YA Douglas-Coupland-esque book about a cool-hunter),Peeps (a vampire novel built on hard-science parasitology) and Uglies/Pretties (the first two books in a trilogy about a future where teens are forced into cosmetic surgery at 16) – he’s a consistently sharp writer whose well-turned books zip along at speed.
The Midnighters trilogy is about a small group of misfit teens in a conservative town who all share the ability to inhabit the secret hour between 12 midnight and 12:01 AM, a secret hour when time stands still for everyone but them, when the light turns blue, when they gain special powers – the power to run tirelessly and leap buildings, even to fly.
This is pure wish-fulfillment for the kids, who are picked-on losers in their straight-laced school, harassed by the law and stuck in bad home situations. But it turns out that the secret hour is also inhabited by Cthuluesque Old Ones – ancient monsters trapped forever in the darkness of the secret hour. And these ancient ones must escape.
The trilogy tells the story of the kids’ defense of the town that rejects them, and of the ancient, wicked secrets there. If Lovecraft had a sense of plot and character, he could have written these.
Now the final volume, Blue Moon, has come into print, and it ties the story up nicely. If you’re looking for three books to give to a kid in your life (or looking for a romp of your own), these would be a great choice.