#yasffqfp

Hans Christian Andersen was a weird dude. I know that I am supposed to use the acknowledgments to tell people about everyone who helped with the book, and I’ll get to that, but I just want to put that out there first. Hans Christian Andersen. Wow.

In honor of the release of Down Among the Sticks and Bones, here are the best amusing Jack quotes (not-Jack dialogue in italics) from Every Heart a Doorway: (Bonus: guess which one is suddenly relevant in DAtSaB)

Why is it that every time I ask someone to do something reasonable and necessary, they always ask for something in return? At what point do my requests stop being opportunities to teach me some kind of lesson? I'm not acting like a child. Whether or not I'm an adult, I'm allowed to be scared. I'm allowed to be worried. It isn't some fault in my character that I demand the right to ensure my family's safety.

You know Darkfist?” “Yeah, he’s big news in Empire, right?” I say as I slide a chair over and sit in it. “Yep. He’s just a billionaire with a utility belt.” Doc sits in her own chair. “His ‘superpower’ is being rich, okay? Not a single real power to his name. He doesn’t even use hypertech.” That doesn’t sound right at all. “Are you sure? The things I’ve heard—” “Are the things that criminals tell each other to make themselves feel better about getting beaten up by a rich boy in fancy cosplay.

These are adoption papers,” she says quietly. “Yeah, well. I mean, if you don’t—look, it’s not that big a deal and, I was just thinking, so, you know—” Doc’s face falls, and so does my stomach. “Danny, I’d…I’m honored, really. But I’m not human. I don’t have a birth certificate or a social security number or anything. I’ve got incorporation papers, and that’s it. Corporations can’t adopt people. I’m sorry.” “Oh.” My face feels numb. My chest is filled with lead. In between the space between hearing and understanding, between understanding and despair, I make one last grasp at it: “Can you hire me?” Doc’s composure stumbles, quickly covered by a tremulous smile. “Yeah,” she says weakly. “I can hire you.” She sets the papers aside and opens her arms. “Hey, bring it in, kiddo, come here.” And then I’m hugging my mother and she’s hugging me back, tight and protective, and finally, finally I’m home.

Because ‘boys will be boys’ is a self-fulfilling prophecy,” said Lundy. “They’re too loud, on the whole, to be easily misplaced or overlooked; when they disappear from the home, parents send search parties to dredge them out of swamps and drag them away from frog ponds. It’s not innate. It’s learned. But it protects them from the doors, keeps them safe at home. Call it irony, if you like, but we spend so much time waiting for our boys to stray that they never have the opportunity. We notice the silence of men. We depend upon the silence of women.

Well, as to the first reason, I needed to confirm I had the right girl. Seems I made the correct call there, so we can proceed directly to the second.” She leans forward a little bit. “Wanna go caping?” “Have you gone caping with all of them?” Sarah shakes her head. “No. Just the ones that—” She seems to think better of saying something. “Danny, when she and I were together, we never went out on a date. She doesn’t do dates.” Blood is thundering in my ears. My heart rate has gone from 60 to 100 in a second and a half. “So?” I hear myself ask. “So when she likes someone, she asks them to go caping with her.” “…oh.” About thirty seconds later, I’m hitting the sound barrier.