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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Triggers: character death, torture, blood, war

Summary: The fear that Helion envisioned had come true — the Death-God used your body to resurrect himself from the lake on the continent. But what no one had imagined, was that you would be alongside him — tainted in darkness matching the Death-God. What would the Inner Circle and Azriel do, to be bestowed your forgiveness for their acts against you? What will be the fate of Prythian with you guiding fates?

Note: The last part of “Pushed to the Edge”! I thank you so much for all the support for this requested series! Like I said, never thought people would want a continuation of that one-shot! I had so much fun writing this trilogy, and had so much fun watching everyone’s reactions! Please enjoy! Also… I will be writing an epilogue for this series. AHEM. Just to wrap everything up in an angsty bow. Also, I am always willing to write more for Seer!Reader! Don’t be hesitant to ask!

Part One | Part Two | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The room was deathly chilled, the skies above clouding, blocking the bright sun that had ruled over Day Court. The powers of a God overtaking a High Lord’s. The two of you stood near the large balcony window, shadow and sin coating the two of you — a God and a Seer — a powerful duo shaking the very foundations of Prythian.

Kosechi’s sinister grin grew wider as he turned his heels, walking towards the dias, you follow his tail. You felt the shimmer of wards opening and the winnowing of guards, the Dawn Court’s Peregryn surrounding the edges of the throne room — all ready to attack if the Death-God lifted the wrong finger against the High Lords.

But little did they know, you were a guard dog, ready to attack anyone that would be a threat to the God — ruthless and unforgiving.

Both of you rounded the last quarter of the table, stepping up to the dias as the Deathless God took a seat on the High Lord’s seat, as you stood near him — a vision of a High Lord and his High Lady of the Darkness.

You felt it though… The stares from the Inner Circle. They did not care for the Death God that casually sitting on the throne. They only looked at you, disbelief in their features but you could see something underneath that — the look of longing and regret.

You wanted to sneer, you wanted to show any hint of disgust at the look on their features — how dare they. After everything they have done to you.

Kosechi looked at the Inner Circle, before glancing at you from the corner of his eye and he snicked under his breath.

“How unfortunate, High Lord of the Night. To have lost your beloved Seer to me…” he pointed out, casually resting head tilting on bony hands as he looked at Rhysand, grin still evident on his features. “Did you know… how the High Lord of Day had hidden her from my followers since she was young … protected her within the wards of Day Court. I’ve been waiting… Waiting for her to fall to me, and you and her mate had made that happen.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hands onto his thighs as the grin widened, sharpened teeth glistening in the light.

“She was beautiful… when my followers found her bleeding body. It took a lot of power to seize her, your shadows protecting her…” Blackened eyes staring at Azriel, “But it was a well-worthy fight. Her light was dimming, leaving an empty echo and so I filled it. Filled it with darkness, it was so exquisite, watching her light dull…”

The Death-God caught your eye and tilted his head.

You had looked at him, charcoal hues staring before you bowed your head, silently thanking him as you felt the weave of shadow up your arms, ghosting over your skin — ensuring you were safe and well protected from any danger, even from Koschei himself.

Azriel watched, those tendrils of shadow wound around you, hearing the purr of devotion to you:

“We serve,

“We protect…

“We find, we hide…

“We cherish the light…”

After your death and after the disappearance of your body, Azriel could never summon the shadows again; they did not flock to him, they did not sing to him, not ever since then — and he realized why.

He realized that despite his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister, his shadows knew exactly what he had wanted, where he should have stayed next to. His shadows were attracted to your light, like flies to fire.

And they still clung to you, even now, and would never let you go.

He tried, fisting his hand as if trying to summon his shadows back to him; however, he could hear them hiss at him:

“You failed, you lost…

“You are not worthy of her light…

“We will not sing for you, only for her…”

Your eyes snapped at him as if feeling the attempt to strip you of the shadows. Your eyes met and you just stared, much like he did to you — all those months ago. That very stare, as if reaching into the depths of his soul, causing him to stumble backward, hands bracing the table behind him — the echo of the broken mating bond aching in his chest; something he will never get used to.

“And so,” Kosechi ended*, “I would like to give my savior a gift… one that I had promised her when I had resurrected her from her unfortunate death,” Koschei cheerfully said, straightening up in his seat, “Blood… of all of Pyrthian, starting with her beloved Night Court.” He raised a hand, darkness flowing out of him.

The Peregryn saw that to be a moment of attack and charged for the Death-God, only to be killed, swiftly and silently by you.

No one had seen it, your movement from the dias to the edges of the room, as if you used the shadows to winnow from one end to the other, though impossible. You stood, surrounded by lifeless bodies of those guards, dull eyes staring at the dead, in your hand a familiar dagger — Truth-Teller, dripping in blood.

Helion, Rhysand, and the rest of the Inner Circle watched, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in their throats at the site of you.

This wasn’t you.

You were someone who would never hurt anyone.

You hated seeing war, hated seeing bloodshed — saw it too often in your visions.

And it had been your duty to ensure, with your sight, to prevent it.

And yet, now, you were the one wreaking havoc on Pyrthian.

In that instant, they knew, they had lost you, completely, to the shadows and darkness that they had drowned you in — in the darkness that the Death God had filled you up with. They had failed you, completely and they weren’t sure… if they would ever get you back.

Feyre looked at you, and took a step forward, only to have her held back by Rhysand — a feeble attempt to protect his mate, “(Y/N) …” she called out your name, as if a way to break you out of this trance, to call you back to them, “What has he done to you? We apologize for not listening to you, and for not seeing you. Please, come back home… We’ll make it up to you, we’ll do anything to bring you back… please…”

You snapped your head towards her, charcoal eyes staring at your former High Lady, a mixed look of longing and hatred towards her way. Tears swam beneath your eyes, forcing them back, “You can’t apologize now…” you seethed, “You can’t tell me that you want me back — when all you did for months was ignore me,” your voice was shaking, that small part of you, that old light you had broken through, “And home? When has that been my home for the past few months? I was alienated, thrown away, cast aside, and yet you want me to go back? For what? For you to do the same again?”

Tears broke, as they ran down your cheeks, “He has done nothing to me… You all have forced your hand to make it this way. I have asked you multiple times to listen to me… I begged all of you to listen, but here we are now…” Pained hues stared at your family, “You have doomed us all to Pyrthian’s destruction.”

That old part of you, the one that had died when you had taken your life, the one that disappeared when Kosechi revived you, cried out — cried out for the loss of your light, loss of your innocence, loss of your own life; cried for the circumstances that fell into place. That old part of you drowned in the darkness that your mate and family had subjected you to. Leaving you seeping in the darkness that the Death-God soaked you in.

And you were losing yourself in that darkness.

You never meant it, you never meant to resurrect the Death-God, you didn’t want to.

You never meant to be the cause of Prythian’s doom.

But fate… seemed to be laughing in your face.

Azriel watched the confrontation between you and his High Lady, but he couldn't glance her way, all his attention on you. He watched as you held Truth-Teller in your hand, watched as his shadows wrapped around your hand that held that dagger as if to steady it in your hand, holding back the quiver that shook your body.

He could see it, that bit of light, that piece of you that he loved so dearly — he hoped to reach out to it… to bring you back home, to bring you back to him.

He took a step forward, passing his High Lady, a hand reaching out towards you.

Your head snapped at him, glaring at him as the hot streams of tears never ended.

It was as if the whole world stilled, just the two of you in that room.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered; your name was a prayer on his lips.

Much like his was yours, for so many centuries.

He stood in front of you, a hand shakily reaching up to try to touch you, to hold you again — to apologize for his mistakes, to beg for you to come back. Azriel let scarred fingers touch your cheeks, wiping the tears that stained your cheeks. Your skin was cold, ice cold. No warmth, nothing that echoed you. But he held on, cupping your cheek and holding you near him.

You bit your lip, trembling, fighting back all the urge to lean into his warmth — to fall back in love with the Shadowsinger.

“I’m sorry… I am sorry. I will beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness. To kiss the very ground you walk on, follow the shadows to the darkness of your soul. I will be your blade, slicing your enemies for you so that your soul doesn’t darken anymore…”

Azriel’s hand slipped down your face, caressing cold skin as it trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before grasping around your hand that held Truth-Teller. The burn of a bargain tattoo searing onto both of your skin.

He flinched slightly but kept his hazel eyes on you, his hand gripping tightly onto yours. He felt your every shiver against his hold, he felt those tendrils of shadow wrap around his hand — hissing at the completeness of the two mates.

A sob escaped you, your bottom lip shaking as you looked at those hazel eyes you adored. His words soothed the ache in your chest; it was all you had wanted to hear… all those months ago.

But you couldn’t… you couldn’t let yourself forgive him.

You wrenched your hand away from him, as your other hand reached up, mirroring him, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek, “We had everything, Az…” your voice was hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing, lyrical, broken, “A family that loved us, a family that we cared for… Yet you were willing to throw it away for a few moments of passion, gallivanting with Elain… You had chosen her over me…” Dark eyes looked at the Made-Fae who stared at both of you with wide brown hues.

You stared back at Azriel, who looked at you as if you were the whole night sky, “…You, Azriel, have broken me, entirely and fully. You will beg for eternity for my forgiveness… We will see to what lengths you will go through… for me…”

You brought his face close to yours, your scent of fresh soft florals — jasmine and sage, overtaking Azriel’s senses. Your lips hovering over his own, “I will show you, my love, on how much you have broken me…”

And with your other hand, you flung Truth-Teller across the room, towards Elain, stabbing her right in her chest. A scream echoed, before your shadows flooded, blanketing the room in darkness, Koschei’s maniacal laughter ringing through the dark.

Azriel had lost track of how long he had been trapped within his cell, with no remembrance of how he got there. The wards that surrounded his cell were unbreakable, one of strong, ancient magic weaving through its walls. He had tried, multiple times to break it. However, difficult; his siphons were taken away and his wings were battered. His strength only depleted day after day, with every attempt to get out. He yelled and screamed, only to be met with silence every single time — he lost all will after that.

So he sat, in that cold, dark cell, watching the sun through the small crack in the rock as his only light source.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world — in Pyrthian.

He heard, though, through the cracks in the rocks.

He heard the whispers of Koschei’s magic and powers seeping through Pyrthian. The destruction of the world was quick and simple. The God’s power was no match for the Fae that lived, the Fae that had fought against him. He had realized that he and his family had caused this plight to fall upon Prythian.

And that you were right next to the Death-God, using those arrows made of shadow and darkness to rain havoc on both fae and humans alike. Sparing no one in its terrible wake, but…

He had heard of the whispers that you had asked to spare the High Lords from the destruction.

All but the Inner Circle.

The first time you had come to see him was three days after being locked in that cell. The shadows still clung onto your body, whispering and seething at him.

You had tortured him, physically and mentally. Using Truth-Teller to inflict wounds on skin and whispering to him on destruction that wrecked Prythian — as if you were lovers laying in bed after lovemaking.

After hours of torture, shadows swarming towards him to heal those wounds, you had lifted the silencing ward, allowing him to call out to his family — for them to communicate to each other… to keep their sanity within those walls. A kind gesture, you had reminded him. For them to listen to each other — when they couldn’t do the same to you.

What he didn’t realize was that the silencing spell was a haven — it allowed Azriel not to listen to the screams of torture that befallen his family.

He could hear the yells of his High Lord, the call of Feyre to her family, the frantic screams of Nesta and Cassian calling for each other, and the whimpers of the still-alive Elain.

There were many times when he tried to reach out — call for them, let his voice be an anchor through the pain.

He had been the reason for this destruction.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Azirel stopped reaching out; there was no point, there was no getting out of there.

It was like their own Prison, but it was of their own making.

The second time you had come to see him, you had pressed Truth-Teller into his hands, dark eyes locking into dulling hazel.

“I call upon your promise, Shadowsinger…” you had told him, the sting of the bargain tattoo on the back of his neck, the call of the use of the bargain, causing him to flinch, “The blade that will free my soul from the darkness. You promised you’d be it, right?”

And that’s what he had become.

A sword of blood — against all of Prythian.

All for you.

He wielded Truth-Teller against all Fae, beast, and humans alike.

He followed your command, not a single thought but listening to your voice as you whispered with the shadows on who to kill and whom to spare — much like a puppet on a string. Slowly breaking from the inside as he raised his hand against his home.

He had thought that you’d call on him often. As he promised, he didn’t want your hands to be stained more with blood, to have your soul darken more.

But you rarely had called him, only twice you had asked him to kill for you.

When the creak of his cell door opened, hazel eyes looked up from his position on the ground, watching you enter and closing the door behind you.

You tilted your head at him your hand reached out towards him, and Azriel shifted to his feet before kneeling in front of you — his bloodied hands grasping your own and pressing a kiss towards the top of your hand — a movement of devotion.

You leaned down, hovering over him as he looked up at you, “One last time… Azriel…” you whispered, your breath caressing his skin as you pressed Truth-Teller one last time into his hands, the two of you were winnowing out of his cell.

The two of you landed on familiar lands — Velaris — and in the distance the darkening cloud of Koschei’s followers and the Death-God himself, heading towards the City of Starlight.

Azriel watched as they slowly descended into the city, his body screaming to defend, to fight… to protect his home. But he waited for your command, on your word.

What he had not expected was for your shadows to cover his eyes, cover his ears, and slither around his hand that held Truth-Teller. His senses were blocked by darkness, and he couldn’t help the panic that zipped through his body.

This wasn’t like before — you never used your shadows like this.

He knew it was torture for him, to watch himself raise his hand and blade against Prythian — it was the reason why you forced him to fight — to see watch Prythian burn in his wake.

He was confused and it showed in his features.

He felt your hand on his upper arm, through the Illryian leathers that seemed to stick to his skin. He felt your body close to his own as you whispered in his ear, “Let the shadows guide you, Shadowsinger… Let them help you kill on my command…”

Azriel felt his throat bob and allowed the shadows to guide his feet, swarming around him and allowing them to whisper to him again.

He tore against leather and skin, smelt blood that splattered onto his face, and heard the muffled screams and cries of whoever he cut down. He didn’t know who he was killing, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to see the lifeless bodies of those who lived in his home, he had passed by on the streets.

He didn’t want to see the lives of the Velarians he just had taken.

The shadows continued to whisper to him — where to turn, when to strike, when to kill — relying on them as he did once before. He and the shadows were working in tandem, following your commands.

As he walked through the streets of Velaris, he felt the world calm — the screams stopped, the smell of blood fading through the whisps of wind — as if time stopped around him.

He allowed the shadows to lead him, stepping over fallen bodies, and debris. Azriel didn’t know where he was being taken and he didn’t want to know where if it meant more bloodshed on his people.

Footsteps grew closer, and a chilling shiver ran down the Spymaster’s spine, ears picking up on the slightest sound from the direction of the footsteps, Truth-Teller armed against whoever might attack him.

“…Strike in the void in the chest…”

He let the shadow lift his arm, as he lunged forward, Truth-Teller gleaming in the light as he broke through skin, striking at the place where the shadows whispered to hit.

A familiar gasp reached his ears, and the body collapsed against him; his arms naturally wrapping around.

The shadows slithered away from his body and Azriel blinked, focusing his eyes on the figure in front of him.

In his arms, at the end of Truth-Teller was you — he had stabbed you.

“(Y/N) … What…?” his breath came out shaky, as he collapsed with you in his arms, his hand releasing its hold on Truth-Teller as it remained embedded in you, in your chest, right where the void seemed to be swirling around the dagger.

He looked around him, noticing that it wasn’t the bodies of his city that lay on the ground but of Kosechi’s army — you had commanded him to kill Kosechi’s followers.

Before he could breathe out something else, a yell echoed through the skies of Velaris. Azriel whipped his head toward the sound, and he watched Kosechi’s body strike the ground, cracks on the earth as he stalked towards Azriel — the same gaping void in his chest mirroring your own.

Charcoal eyes of the Death-God shifted from the Spymaster’s to your own, as your life was slowly leaving your body and he let out a broken laugh, “Seems that your Seer has planned this… since I had resurrected her. Our connection...” another laugh, one of disbelief, "...was our downfall..."

Eyes moved again to Azriel, “You all never deserved her…”

Azriel watched as Kosechi’s body was swallowed by the void, leaving nothing but whisps of air in his waking — the Deathless God, dead.

Not even a second later, he was focusing on your body, watching the shadows wrap around Truth-Teller, as if trying to stop death from taking your body.

“No….No!” he screamed, as he shifted you in his arms, pressing a hand against your cheek and his forehead resting against your head, “You can’t do this, (Y/N)…” as he tried to catch your eyes, hazel eyes in panic mode.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think. All he could think was that he was losing you all over again — and this time permanently.

He felt tears streaking down his features, watching them fall onto your face, “What did you do, my love? Why did you do this?” he whispered against your skin.

He felt you chuckle, one so broken and shallow and he watched you look up at him, your colored hues staring up at him — one devoid of the darkness that had swallowed you up.

“I had always loved you, Azriel…” you mumbled, “… Loved you with my whole being… for centuries I had been devoted to you…”

A cough escaped your lips, dark as night blood dripping down the edge, “You will, for eternity, regret and mourn… You will be as broken as I was when you betrayed me…”

He leaned against the hand that you had lifted to rest against his cheek, your blackened blood streaking against his skin.

“You will never forget what you had pushed me to do… To save Prythian…”

With one last breath, your hand fell limp against your chest, your eyes dimming as the last of your light finally diminished. The shadows went wild against your body, their cries ringing in Azriel’s ears as he shook, he brought your body close to his.

A roar echoed through the skies of Valeris — one full of anguish and regret.

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#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst #azriel x reader #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )#azriel angst

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sluttywoozi · 9 months

Note

Hey Emily! Hope your road trip is going well and you're travelling safely 💞

For the prompts you posted, could I please ask for “you wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? i just really don’t want today to end.” with Jeonghan? I've been in severe Jeonghan brainrot lol so, I thought reading about him would help keep me from impulsively writing about him myself instead.

omg hi RJ! we had a safe trip to dc and now we’re on the way to nyc! you absolutely can, jeonghan has also on my mind lately and im so happy to write him for you 💖 lowkey u should write him too tho

“You wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? No funny business, I just really don’t want today to end.”

Jeonghan is… nervous. Nervous out of his mind. It’s only the second date, he knows he shouldn’t be asking you this, but he’s just not ready for his time with you to be over.

He started his day by calling you to confirm the date (and he also might have wanted to hear your voice). He spent most of the morning thinking about you, and when he rolled up to your place and spotted you waving excitedly at him on the sidewalk, he finally felt like he could breathe.

He’s breathless now waiting to hear your answer, but he can see you mulling it over and doesn’t want to pressure you.

Soon enough, you give him a sweet smile and say, “I will if you let me use your skincare and your biggest t-shirt.”

“Deal,” He agrees with an easy grin before offering you his hand and helping you into his car. He’s already got the shirt picked out in his mind and thankfully, he washed his sheets yesterday so they’re all fresh and clean for you.

He wasn’t expecting anything more than a date tonight, and he’s elated you’re up for a sleepover too.

It isn’t until he’s pulling into his spot in the parking garage that he realizes this means he’ll get to sleep next to you, and wake up with you, and maybe make you breakfast and give you a kiss tasting of coffee and syrup, and maybe he’ll just go ahead and fall in love with you too.

He’s already halfway there, anyway. What’s a little further?

You chat about what movie to watch as he leads you down the hallway, Jeonghan proposing the Lego trilogy and you countering with your own favorites. You settle on a few episodes of the new drama you’ve both been wanting to see, and his hand only shakes a little as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

He hopes you like his place; though it’s a bit small and disorganized, it feels like him and he’s proud of the space he’s managed to create. You seem like you do like it, immediately moving to his Lego display case with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Chuckling to himself, Jeonghan follows you to the plexiglass and begins to point out sets he thinks you’ll recognize. It makes for a simple ice breaker and he watches you grow more and more comfortable as the conversation flows.

It flows right over to the couch, where you wrap him up in a tale of the last time you tried to do a lego set. Apparently, your cat ate approximately fifteen pieces while you were making tea and had to go to the emergency vet. He doesn’t blame you for not wanting to attempt another after such an ordeal, though he wonders if you’d ever like to build one with him.

He’s about to ask when you remind him of the plan.

“Can I have that t-shirt? I wanna get out of these jeans, they’re the worst,” you request, grimacing and plucking at the denim.

“Yes!” He jumps up, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. You let out a small sound of surprise, following him on light feet to his bedroom.

Jeonghan feels a little shy as you take in his messy bed and clothes-covered chair but he tries not to show it, immediately moving to his dresser to dig out the biggest shirt he owns.

It’s plain, old, and a bit worn out, but it’s the comfiest thing in this apartment and he’s ecstatic to hand it over to you.

He points you to the bathroom, taking the time to change into his own pajamas and pretending his heart doesn’t skip in his chest when you reappear.

You tug at the hem of the shirt, though it rests about midway on your thighs, and he forces his eyes away from your legs and onto your face.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, offering you a hand and leading you back into the bathroom.

“Here’s my cleansing balm, and I have a few options for serums. Oh, and here’s my moisturizer.”

It’s all lined up neatly on the quartz of his counter and he watches as you pick up one of his proffered serums with a gleeful look on your face.

“You have the expensive vitamin C,” you breathe, gazing at him with wonder.

“Yeah,” he grins. “Seungkwan is an influencer and he gets a lot of PR, so he gives me his castoffs.”

“What’s it like to be God’s favorite?”

“Like a dream, if I’m being honest.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and he bumps his hip against yours, his cheeks aching with the width of his smile.

He loves this already, feeling so domestic with you, and he’s halfway into hatching a plan to ask you to move in with him when you set the serum down and pick up the cleansing balm.

You set to work, massaging your face with clear concentration in your eyes, and Jeonghan decides to join you.

Watching and giggling at each other in the bathroom mirror, you scrub your faces clean side by side. This feels familiar to him, like it’s something he’s been doing with you for years, like it’s something he’ll be doing with you for years to come.

He’s lucky you’re busy rinsing away the balm while he comes to the realization that he might be a bit more than halfway in love with you.

It’s not ideal, especially because he’s not sure where you stand, but it is kind of exciting.

He’s never been in love before, but that has to be what this is. This comfort, this contentment, this fondness, this passion.

There’s no other explanation as to why he’s riveted watching you pat serums into your skin, why his heart is racing at the sight of you in his shirt, why he’s never been more excited to crawl into bed before.

It’s all because of you, because you’re here with him.

He only becomes more sure when you both decide to forgo the drama and just go straight to bed, curling up on your sides facing each other under the shared covers.

You talk for hours, until your eyes are falling closed and your words are mere whispers, and just before he succumbs to sleep, he sends a wish out into the universe that every single date he has with you ends like this.

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forlovvers · 5 days

Text

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ falsies

pair: bf!hyuka x f!reader | genre: fluff | warning(s): none! | wc: 500 | synopsis: in which kai is in a large amount of shock when you take off your fake lashes.

lynne’s notez🗒️: i miss huening kms

do we have to finish this movie?” huening kai yawns tiredly, stretching his long arms out. you glance at the clock sitting above the tv; it was getting kind of late.

“fine, only if we finish it tomorrow.” you say sternly, attempting to make a compromise. it’s apparent your boyfriend doesn’t like the high school musical trilogy as much as you do. huening kai grins and pumps his fist in the air, a quiet “yay!” slipping from his lips.

“you’re so lame,” you say, shaking your head with a small smile. he just shrugs and reaches for the remote, switching the tv off. he then flips off the light and pulls you closer to him, meaning it was time for bed.

instead of putting your head in the crook of his neck, like routine, you break from his grasp and switch the light back on. huening kai blinks at the sudden bright light and frowns when he realizes you’re not in his arms.

“somethin’ wrong?” he says, voice a couple octaves deeper. you can already hear the traces of sleep in his voice and you feel bad for being an unexpected disturbance.

“i have to take off my lashes, kai.”

his shoulders drop in relief and he lets out a small chuckle, “gosh don’t scare me like that.” huening flings himself upwards, and is suddenly wide awake. “can i help?”

and that’s how you’ve found yourself sitting on the bathroom counter, with huening kai staring back at you in horror. “what do you mean to just yank it off!”

“kai— look,” you demonstrate by gently tugging on your left lash until it’s loose and then fully pulling it out. you present the lash strip in the palm of your hand and huening’s jaw drops in terror.

“that doesn’t hurt?” he asks innocently and you can’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s unnecessary concern.

“here,” you take his larger hand in your own and bring it up to your lash line. “pinch your fingers together like this.” you say and he does exactly as told, although hesitant.

“yn, what if i poke your eye out?” huening kai’s free hand flies up to cover his mouth as he gasps at the thought.

“you won’t!” you exclaim, not so convincingly. you really hope he doesn’t poke your eye out.

with the guidance of your hand, huening kai finally manages to separate your real lashes from the fake ones. he immediately lets his head fall onto your shoulders, arms snaking around your waist. “that was so scary, i can’t believe you do that all the time.”

you let out another bubbly laugh, hands reaching up to fluff his hair, “you’re such a dork.”

“only yours.”

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weepingchoir · 2 months

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Imperium Sanctus

(...T)he phrase “Grimdark” may suggest the name of some 2000s era Goth club. It’s a recent coinage for an ongoing craze in “gritty” and dark fantasy settings, epitomised and popularised by George RR Martin, becoming the default tone for a whole range of feted fantasy offerings from Joe Abercrombie’s First Law series featuring a dark, brooding protagonist who kills a lot of people — and occasionally feels bad about it — to Mark Lawrence’s Broken Empire Trilogy featuring a dark, brooding protagonist who kills a lot of people — and occasionally feels bad about it.

Like many fantasists with a bone to pick, mister Milbank doesn't actually know when or where "grimdark" was coined. Knowing fuck all has never stopped a critic (indeed, The Critic): Milbank goes on to blame everything from Breaking Bad to The Sopranos, constructing a spurious history of dark fantasy(?) that ultimately singles out author Michael Moorcock as godfather of grimdark.

While Moorcock’s gory, British sorcery is a major influence on today’s grimdark, the inception point of the trend is in fact googleable: it’s been the tagline of gory, British science-fantasy wargame Warhammer 40,000 since its 1993 second edition.

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

Already this betrays the hopepunk's antimaterialist concerns. It doesn't matter that The Walking Dead and Boardwalk Empire are nothing alike. Taking the historicist tack, it becomes even less likely that they have a connection to 40K. But morality, as an immaterial concern, is a laser beam: it vaporizes material history. Grimdark is a specter on the pages of anything that irritates gentle sensibilities.

For the sake of avoiding googleable gaffes, Alexandra Rowland, author of books named things like A Taste Of Gold And Iron, and coiner of "hopepunk", in a follow-up essay:

There’s no such thing as winning forever. Evil cannot be vanquished, only beaten back for a day or two, and then it trickles back in, like water seeping through the cracks in a dam. Ask it of hopepunk, then: "What's the point?" And the answer is, of course, that the fight itself is the point.

In the noble brightness of the far future, there is only (___)?

Unlike Rowland, Milbank is a nothingpunk: The Critic is a conservative Christian rag pontificating everything from trans-exclusionary rhetoric to the dismantling of higher education. Which begs us to consider how Milbank so easily co-opts shades of Rowland's language to peddle a retvrn to Tolkien, on its face the last thing a fantasy author looking to innovate would want.

The Imperium of Man, the central setting of 40K, is an arch-conservative Great Man cult worshipping the once-Emperor of Mankind. This is the gate leading to the inner sanctum where the Emperor's corpse resides. Catholic readers may have noticed similarities to portrayals of the Archangel Michael fighting the Dragon (1400~, 1498, 1860), as narrated in Revelation 12.

Revelation is the tale of darkness enveloping the world, and the noble, virtuous men who persevere despite persecution and are eventually victorious in heavenly war(!). This is not dissimilar to J.R.R. Tolkien's "fundamentally religious and Catholic work", in which ordinary men persevere against darkness enveloping a world. Rowland and Milbank both champion Tolkien as exemplary, the former in the same breath as Jesus. Yes, of Nazareth.

The Lord Of The Rings is unmistakeably about the War of the Ring. Positing Tolkien's apocalypticism as aspirational fails to rebuff the basic conceit that war is a human constant and even a force for good. If this isn't the aim of a genre purported to concern itself with kindness and "giv[ing] a fuck about the people on the other side of the world", what is?

Aesthetics. Rowland doesn't call for a narrative movement with less conflict, but one that appropriately celebrates those that fall on the right side of conflict. Even just those that deigned to imagine, of slaying the Dragon, "probably drunk in a bar somewhere, I bet it can be done, though." (The writer's original temptation: a medal for thinking the right thing.) Millions of people die in Revelation, magnitudes more than in Game of Thrones, but the virtuous go to heaven forever. The Emperor of Mankind sits on the Golden Throne, Frodo bodily assumpted into the Undying Lands, Jesus curled up into a ball and just rolled away. All manner of things shall be well.

The transition from here to open conservatism is again in aesthetics, and thus stepwise. Having established Tolkien as the only fantasy writer he respects, Milbank derides grimdark as immature wish fulfillment. If you write fantasy at all, it ought to have a clear moral message, else you are devaluing reality by infesting Real (not in the Lacanian sense) conflict with magic missiles. But he's also established that realistic fiction with no clear hero is a faux pas. He wants Breaking Good and, like, The Walking Alive.

This is no surprise: if you were around for the Disco Elysium craze, you might remember this tweet (holy shit it's still up) calling for a game that uses Disco's systems to narrate the story of "a young witch" looking for her neighbor's cat. Take another step and this is the logical conclusion of an aesthetic that prizes upright moral posture: a world where the protagonist has to do nearly nothing to be good. The little village in the Alps and the events of Disco Elysium might be unfolding in the same world. But our little German girl with no problems doesn't have to participate in anything as unsightly as a Pinkerton massacre. Milbank disdains C.S. Lewis without knowing that what he wants is the end of Narnia, irrespective of the events that preceded it: the crowning of the king, who once was good. The Emperor protects!

#mine #warhammer 40k #don't argue with me if you're dumber than me

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wlwbookshelf · 6 months

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IRIS KELLY DOESN'T DATE - ASHLEY HERRING BLAKE Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ashley Herring Blake has written another sapphic romance that I was barely able to out down until it was finished. Iris and Stevie are incredibly cute. The book is really successful take on fake dating that actually seems like a plausible reason two people could fake date!

I loved seeing Bright Falls one last time, although I do wish there was two epilogues one for the Iris/Stevie and one for the whole cast!

Based on this trilogy, any sapphic story Ashley Herring Blake writes will be an auto-buy for me.

Many thanks to Berkley Publishing Group for an eARC via Netgalley in exchange for my honest review. Iris Kelly is released today (Oct 24th) in the US!

#books #iris kelly doesn’t date #ashley herring blake #bright falls #book review #sapphic lit #booklr #litedit #wlwbooks #wlwlit #wlw literature #bookedit #storyseekers #book creation #blog tour

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vintagerpg · 1 year

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Fantasy paperback week (mostly)! What a wonderful, musty week indeed.

This, my friends, is one of my favorite things. It is a set of Ace Books’ unauthorized publications of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy (1965). The story here is tortured (and you can find a fuller accounting on Kirkus Reviews). Basically, Donald A. Wollhiem approached Tolkien about producing an American edition of the books in paperback and was snootily turned down (Tolkien apparently saw paperbacks as “degenerate”). Offended, Wollhiem hunted around and found an apparent loophole in copyright law at the time (I do not pretend to entirely understand this) that had allowed the trilogy to fall into the public domain in the US. He quickly published these books, beating Ballantine’s revised editions to shelves by five months. Tolkien and Ballantine waged a war against Ace in the papers, accusing them of pirating the trilogy — eventually Ace relented, gave Tolkien royalties and let their (still popular editions) go out of print.

The cover art is by Jack Gaughan, who was featured on many Ace books. I feel like I know him primarily through covers for Jack Vance novels, but he has a distinct sort of mid-century medieval style I really enjoy. I love these covers, with their bright colors. They actually reflect the content of the books better than the covers on the Ballantine editions — Barbara Remington’s strange triptych evokes some of the books, but because of the Ace edition, she didn’t have time to read the books before she commenced painting.

#RPG #TTRPG #TabletopRPG #roleplaying game #Novel #Tolkien #Lord of the Rings #Jack Gaughan #Ace Books #D&D #Dungeons & Dragons

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skylarkblue · 3 months

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Title: Baby's First Crush Author: skylarkblue Fandom: Bright Falls Trilogy Pairing: Delilah Green/Claire Sutherland Rating: G Word Count: 1,000 Warnings: None

Summary:

When Ruby comes home from school excited about a new friend, she opens up to Delilah.

Read on AO3 here!

#delilah green doesn't care #astrid parker doesn't fail #bright falls trilogy #ashley herring blake #femslash february #my fic

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theomnilegent · 3 months

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Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail by Ashley Herring Blake - Review

This is miles better than the previous book, given it actually examined some of Astrid and Delilah's relationship and finally, finally has someone stand up to Isabel Parker-Green.

The last one hundred pages of this or so are absolutely unputdownable. I couldn't stop reading, I had to know what happened, I had to know how Ashley Herring Blake was going to resolve the absolute mess the characters had gotten into. The payoff was perfect, and well worth the mess that the third act opens with.

I've never thought I would enjoy enemies-to-lovers, but I thought the way Ashley Herring Blake developed the relationship between Astrid and Jordan was absolutely sublime. The two women start off butting heads extremely hard, but slowly soften with time. As they get to know each other, a beautiful relationship unfolds between them - one where both of them can finally be vulnerable, for the first time in a long time.

My one gripe is that I feel Ashley Herring Blake sometimes engages in what I would call performative feminism. Some of the body-positive, queer, sexual stuff seems just a touch over the top. I don't hate it, though. I just wish the story better found the balance between including those things and making it feel shoehorned in.

I won't say much more because I don't want to give spoilers, but I will say this: The Bright Falls trilogy is worth it just for this book, and I can't wait to read Iris Kelly Doesn't Date next.

#ashley herring blake #astrid parker doesn't fail #bright falls trilogy #book review #booklr #wlw books #omnilegent reviews

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pinkskytwst · 1 year

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MAKING A STAND: Part III

Yandere!First Years/Prefect Romantic Poly, Grim/Prefect Platonic

Alright, everyone, I hope you all like this and that it's decent enough for the end of this little trilogy. Tell me what you think! XD I had fun imagining some of their older looks.

==================

“Deuce, wait a moment.” The prefect giggled, tugging on their lover’s sleeve until the Heartslabyul Vice-Housewarden stopped from his frantic search of his Astrology textbook.

They maneuvered him better so they could reach his hair. The long, midnight blue locks had started to fall from the haphazard ponytail he had tugged it into.

“Really, why do you keep it so long when you barely do anything with it?” they teased playfully as they ran their fingers through the silky locks that nearly reached the middle of the other’s back now and began pulling it up into a neater tail to keep it out of the way.

Deuce couldn’t help but smile back just as playfully as he reveled in the feeling.

“I like when you run your fingers through it.” He admitted, managing not to blush this time.

He had gotten a little better at that over the three years at NRC, though his eyes still sparkled just as bright when the Prefect laughed in returned and gave him a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn how to keep it tidy without me during your internship.” They warned fondly. “I doubt the Queendom’s guardsmen will allow me to just show up every morning to do it for you.”

Deuce pouted at little at that, looping his arms around their waist to pull them closer and rest his forehead against theirs.

“I wish you could come with me.” He admitted.

“Oi what about me!?” Ace’s voice interrupted as he entered the Ramshackle kitchen.

Deuce rolled is eyes. “Internship will be a vacation away from you.” He shot back to his Housewarden. “I might actually get some real sleep.”

The red head’s grin shifted to a devious smirk as draped himself over his shoulders.

“Oh? I thought you rather liked me keeping you awake.” He teased, causing the Prefect to giggle into Deuce’s chest when the blue haired young man instantly flustered and tried to elbow their lover.

“YOU SNORE!” he insisted, glaring when the red head just danced away with a laugh and sauntered over to the breakfast table where the food was already set out.

He dropped down into one of the chairs and began filling a plate for himself, making sure to put some on the plate beside him so that the Prefect wouldn’t get distracted and skip eating.

“So where are the others?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the still blushing top ranked student and the giggling Prefect that was trying to soothe him and usher him into a chair to eat as well.

“They are on their way.” The Prefect smiled brightly, bustling around to get some drinks for everyone. “Epel is getting ready for morning practice and Howl should be back soon from his rounds.” They explained. “Sebek had to return to Diasomnia to check on things and Tsunotarou said he would be mirror calling to see how he was doing. It was a while ago, though, since he had to leave before even Jack because of the time difference. He should-“

“MY LOVES I HAVE RETURNED! I HAVE NEWS FROM WAKA-SAMA THAT I KNOW YOU WILL ALL BE EXCITED TO HEAR!” came the bellow from the entrance as the door to Ramshackle was thrown open.

“-be arriving soon.” They chuckled.

Ace snorted and Deuce couldn’t help but smile fondly as their tallest lover came bounding into the kitchen with all the energy of an eager puppy despite his size.

“Welcome back, Sebek.” The prefect greeted him with a smile, leaning up on their toes to place a kiss on his cheek that he eagerly returned with one of his own.

It was swiftly followed by him bending down to press one against Ace’s temple and then meeting Deuce for a quick one on the lips.

“WHERE ARE EPEL AND JACK!?” he asked. “I HAVE IMPORTANT INFORMATION FROM WAKA-SAMA TO IMPART!”

“What, did he tell you about a new cloak he bought?” Ace teased.

“NAY! WELL, YES, BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT IS IMPORTANT IN THIS INSTANCE! OF COURSE, ALL OF WAKA-SAMA’S NEWS IS IMPORTANT BUT THIS IS DOUBLY SO!”

“Oi! Lizard, you can stop yelling.” Grim yawned as he was draped over Epel’s shoulder as the Pomefiore Housewarden was making his way down the stairs.

“I AM NOT A LIZARD!”

The Prefect covered their giggles and moved to pick up their partner from his perch. It was impossible to continue to hide them, however, when Epel slipped his arm around their waist and tugged them into a hungry kiss. He always got a little more excited when he was going to have a chance to play Magift, even if it was only practice.

“FUNGYA! Stop doing that when they’re holding me! Gross!” Grim complained, pushing against Epel’s jersey.

“Then walk on your own.” Epel said pointedly, sticking out his tongue and causing the violet stud there to glint a little.

It matched the others that he had, his left ear almost completely taken up now by elegant rings and studs that his lovers had given him at different occasions during their time together.

“A boss never walks when they have a henchman to carry them!” Grim shot back.

Epel snorted and stole another kiss from the Prefect before doing the same to the others.

“How do you think the team’s shaping up?” Ace asked from a muffled, full mouth.

Epel dropped down on his other side and began filling his own plate.

“Pretty good. The dorm teams are all looking decent and the school team is much better than last year. Asim I & II are much better on a broom than most of the other first years. I think they’ll train up into a couple of good chargers.”

“Have they still not told you which of them is which?” Ace chuckled, the twins that had been put in Savanaclaw were pretty hilarious in his opinion.

“Oh they have, but they keep switching on me, I’m pretty sure.” Epel shrugged as he added a few more of the odd sausages from Briar Valley that Sebek always brought back from home onto his plate. “So I just call them one and two and whoever answers is that one for the day.

Sebek frowned. “THAT IS NOT A PROPER WAY TO GO ABOUT BEING A MEMBER OF A TEAM! ONE MUST BE HONEST WITH THEIR LEADER!”

“Not everyone can tell their Commander with a straight face that they request a reschedule because you plan on fucking your boyfriend silly for his birthday.” Epel drawled, his accent warming his words.

The half-fae stammered, flushing darkly. “IT WAS IMPORTANT FOR THEM TO KNOW I WAS NOT SIMPLY SHIRKING MY DUTIES! LILIA-SAMA EVEN GAVE HIS BEST WISHES FOR MY ENDEAVOR!”

Ace was cackling into his eggs at the memory of that conversation while Deuce flushed to his roots – having been the aforementioned boyfriend they was going to ‘fuck silly’.

“I will never be able to face Vanrouge-senpai again.” He lamented, running a hand down his face.

“THERE IS NO REASON TO BE EMBARRASSED! THE NIGHT WAS A SUCCESS AND VERY ENJOYABLE! YOU SAID SO YOURSELF THAT WE PROVIDED A PLEASUREABLE CELEBRATION!”

Deuce hid his face as Ace continued cackling to the point that he almost choked.

Grim scrunched his nose and filled his plate with a bit of help from the Prefect until it was a mountain of food.

“You are the worst roommates.” He complained. “I had to go to Heartslabyul just to get away from all your screaming.”

“WE ARE NOT THAT LOUD!”

The monster just gave the half-fae a look and didn’t bother answering.

The Prefect patted Deuce’s back comfortingly and offered Sebek a fond but rather embarrassed smile of their own.

“Why don’t you start eating until Jack returns and then you can tell us of your important news?” they suggested trying to change the subject to less blush-inducing topics.

“VERY GOOD SUGGESTION MY LOVE!” he declared, moving to take one of the free chairs and started gathering his own food.

The Prefect smiled warmly and passed the half-fae a large glass of juice before sliding some milk to Epel.

“Aa, we might need to trim a little and freshen the design a bit before the next match.” They said absently, lightly running their fingers over the short undercut that the lavender haired boy had started sporting. “Would you like to keep the apple blossom motif or go with something different?”

Epel tilted his head into the touch slightly, thinking for a moment. “I think I’ll keep it a little longer. Grandpa really liked it when he watched my match on the television.”

“What did granny think about the tattoo?” Ace teased, nodding to the colorful and rather beautiful work of art that covered Epel’s shoulder and wound down his arm in the form of watercolor apple blossoms with the branches resembling brushstrokes.

“She’s getting used to it.” Epel admitted sheepishly. “She doesn’t really mind them, she just wishes I only got them where I could hide them if I need to.”

The Prefect chuckled, kissing him on the temple again.

“I think it’s very dashing.” They said.

“Hey! I could get another!” Ace protested at the smug grin Epel shot him.

“After you nearly cried when we got our group one? I doubt it.” He teased back, his wavy hair parted over the side and falling a little into his eyes.

He’d need to pin it back for practice.

“Oi! They said rib ones are the worst!” the red head protested, absently nudging the Prefect’s chair out for them with his foot so they could sit.

“Not really an excuse when you cry before they even get the needle out.”

The other four ignored the two’s bickering.

“What do you have planned today?” Deuce asked the Prefect and Grim.

“We have a self-study for potions lab.” They said thoughtfully, taking a bite and then tapping the fork against their lip. “We’ll be trying to perfect the end of term project that Crewel has us all doing.”

“It’s fine, we figured out the step that was causing the reaction between the magora roots and crushed opals.” Grim waved off any concern about the project. “We just had to adjust the temperature and make sure that the magora has dissolved and bonded with the weird whatever-you-call-it syrup before we add the opal.”

“Falarian Honey.” The Prefect reminded him.

“Yeah, that.”

“Afterwards Crowley wanted to discuss some of the plans for next year and get a start on organizing what we have planned for the RSA joint festival.” They continued.

Ace heaved a sigh as he broke away from the argument with Epel.

“I still don’t know why you agreed to intern here.” He said. “Mal-“ “WAKA-SAMA!” “Ugh, King Draconia, offered to let you intern as his personal assistant.”

The Prefect offered a small, fond smile at the thought of their dragon-fae friend.

Things had been a bit…awkward there for a little while when they realized that Malleus had grown romantic feelings towards them.

Especially in light of their own for Sebek.

The Briar King was nothing if not loyal to those he cared for, though, and after a little time to come to terms with it, he and the rest of Diasomnia were happy to support their relationship with their half-fae brother.

They knew that Malleus still loved them, but they hoped one day he would find someone that could love him with their whole heart as he did them. They were so thankful that the fae king didn’t allow his feelings to turn sour and ruin their friendship.

He had explained it to them once, during one of their nightly walks once they had reconnected. Malleus’s dragon instincts wanted them close, wanted to protect them and keep them part of his family. While it wasn’t what he had hoped originally, he was happy for their and Sebek’s happiness and with them as Sebek’s lover that meant they would still remain part of his family. It settled something inside him that prevented the loss wounding him beyond repair.

Lilia had jumped at the chance to ask when they were going to make him a grandpa, much to the Prefect's embarrassment.

Especially when Sebek insisted, without hesitation, that the responsible thing would be to wait until they graduated.

“I know, but I didn’t want to take advantage of Tsunotarou’s kindness.” They said. “And…well…I’m not quite ready to leave NRC just yet.” They admitted softly, glancing around at them with a soft smile.

“Why would you be leaving?” Jack asked as he slipped silently into the kitchen, causing the others except Sebek and Grim to jump slightly.

“Oi, stop doing that, dog-boy or I swear I’ll get one of those bells.” Ace shot over his shoulder as the wolf therianthrope pushed the longer, fluffy bangs out of his face and leaned down to give kisses to the Prefect, Deuce, and Epel.

He purposefully passed over Ace, who responded with flipping him off.

“We were just talking about internship this next year.” The Prefect smiled. “Tsunotarou offered that position as his assistant but I was saying that I kind of want to stay at NRC a little longer.” They explained.

“Still not sure how you can put up with the idiot bird man.” Ace rolled his eyes.

The Prefect giggled at that. “He’s gotten better since first year.” They defended the crow-fae.

Which, yes, he had magically seemed to change his tune after he lost most of his most well known and high ranking students.

No one still knew what happened to Azul and the eel twins, and Leona had graduated suddenly – skipping the internship year somehow – and returned to the Sunset Savanna at his brother's insistence.

Vil had been forced to retire from the public all together after the PR backlash and Rook had gone with him. Idia managed to avoid the whole thing, though that wasn’t too difficult since he hardly left his room.

Still, he had stayed far away from them until he graduated and disappeared off to the Island of Lamentations again with Ortho.

They were pretty sure Ruggie had actually worked out something with Kalim and moved his family to the Scorching Sands, but they weren’t sure about that.

Riddle had apparently wanted to get out of school as fast as possible and did what he had to to skip a year to join Trey and Cater, the three going off on internship together before coming back to graduate and then disappearing again to do something or other in the Queendom.

Ace didn’t really care to figure out what.

All in all, the first years went through their sophomore and junior years as the only ones left from their original friend group (i.e. Overblot gang) on campus.

Crowley became a much more attentive Headmage around that time and while they decided to keep the exterior of Ramshackle…well Ramshackle for aesthetic purposes, he had spared no expense to refurbish the whole dorm with the most up to date amenities.

Insisting that he could certainly never let a student of his live in such conditions, with Crewel brandishing his crop the whole way.

Funny that.

“Besides…” they said with a soft, loving smile as they looked around at the young men they loved more than anything and their partner. “This is where I met all of you…where I’ve been the happiest of my life. I just wanted to enjoy it for one more year.”

The expressions on the others told them that their feelings were understood, and they just laughed when Ace threw his arms around them and tried to pull them into his lap, kissing along their neck.

“How are you so damn cute!? It should be illegal to be this cute! We can’t just leave you here by yourself! Someone will trick you into an unmarked van with candy and kittens!”

The Prefect laughed, struggling against the kisses and tickling, bumping the table a bit and causing Deuce to try and come to their rescue until finally Sebek simply stood and went over to pick the Prefect up under the arms and pull them from between the two and proceeded to carry them back to his seat to place them on his lap.

“YOU ARE NOT ALLOWING THEM TO EAT! HUMANS NEED A HEALTHY DIET TO LIVE A LONG LIFE!” he insisted, earning a kiss on the cheek for his efforts and the Prefect just settled down more comfortably on his lap as Jack pulled their plate over and passed it to the half-fae.

Ace huffed but didn’t argue and just turned back to finish his breakfast.

“So what were you trying to tell us earlier?” Deuce asked, looking to the knight.

“AH! YES! I HAVE WONDERFUL NEWS!” He exclaimed happily, eyes shining with pride. “WAKA-SAMA HAS PREPARED EVERYTHING FOR OUR LOVELY PREFECT AND GRIM TO BE OFFICIAL BRIAR VALLEY CITIZENS!” he said, causing a brilliant smile to bloom on the Prefect’s face.

“That’s great!” Epel said with his own excited smile.

After all, their lover didn’t technically exist legally in their world with no history or records of their life. It had taken Malleus a while to prepare a completely air tight background for their friend that would allow them all the benefits afforded to the rest of those in their world.

As king he could just keep them safe in his kingdom, after all, but with this they could travel anywhere, do anything just as the rest of them. It also gave Grim a measure of protection as a sentient being instead of simply being labeled a ‘monster’ that ran the risk of being captured and carted off somewhere.

The Prefect threw their arms around Sebek’s neck and gave him a tight embrace.

“Thank you so much, Sebek. I know Malleus would have done it anyway but you did so much to help set up the history for us. It really means the world to me.”

Sebek readily wrapped his arms around the smaller human, burying his nose into their neck and just soaking in the feeling of their heart beat and warmth of their body.

“Of course, I would do anything for those I love.” He mumbled into their shoulder.

The Prefect cupped the back of his head, threading their fingers through the longer hair that the half-fae was letting grow out a bit.

They felt Jack’s warm hand against their back and knew Ace, Deuce, and Epel were just as excited for them. It was a protection that they had wanted to give their lover since they arrived and it had finally managed work.

The Prefect was a citizen of Twisted Wonderland.

This was their home.

They were home.

“We will always do anything for you.” Jack whispered, leaning in to nuzzle the side of their head lovingly, tail sweeping back and forth.

The Prefect didn’t even try to hold back their tears. More hands, more warmth surrounded them and it only made them cry harder.

They were so happy.

They were so happy to have been brought here.

So thankful to have earned the love of such wonderful people.

No matter what the future would bring for them, they knew they could handle it together.

Because it had always been and always would be them against the world.

And there was no one else the Prefect would want to face the world with.

=================

Hope you guys like it. I know it's mostly fluff with just like, the barest hints of background Yandere but well...my brain naturally turns towards fluff. Hope you're not too disappointed and that this was an okay conclusion. <3

#pinkskytwst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst prefect #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst ace #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #first years/prefect #polyamory #twst grim

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fqeriemin · 1 month

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𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 '𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 . mark lee

O1 . THE PARK | nct master list

synopsis : Sitting on a bench in the middle of a random park in Seoul, you didn ‘t mind the fact that a stranger sat next to you. But you didn ‘t expect it to hit it off with him. au : nonidol!mark lee x afab!nonidol!reader requested? : no trope : friends to lovers pronouns : you / your type : just pure fluff <3 warnings : reader is a hopeless romantic , small mention of ab**e. word count : O822 ( originally 14O4 ) play list : magnetic - illit sparks fly - taylor swift maroon - taylor swift

just a little mark drabble because who doesnt love mark <3

YOU GAZED AT THE pink cherry blossom petals floating through the air and falling delicately to the ground. It was late March , just around the time that cherry blossom trees were blooming. You were reading the novel you’d just picked up at the bookstore. Seoul was chilly at this time of year , and you had wrapped yourself in a windbreaker before stepping out. With the zipper straight up to your chin , you sat there , content with the hum of the city as your company. Page after page , you let the city calm you after a long day.

Until you felt someone sit down next to you. You didn ‘t mind it at first , as long as they didn ‘t disturb you. This person was pretty quiet , aside from the soft shifts of their feet on the cement walkway. You took a little peak at them out of the corner of your eyes at them. Blonde hair , strong jawline , and their phone held up to take a photo of the scenery. You directed your attention back to your book , and heard the camera snap of a phone. You crossed one leg over the other and made yourself more comfortable.

“Pride and Prejudice?” asked the stranger after a few minutes of silence. You looked at him , and finally got a proper view of his face. His bangs stuck up a little , as if he ‘d just climbed out of bed. And that bright blonde hair.

“Oh- yeah.” You respond , taken a bit off guard by the question.

“You like classics ?” He raised an eyebrow , pocketing his phone.

“Not particularly.” You slide your bookmark into the page you were on and shut the book. “Just decided to try it. It was on a whim.”

He nodded. A beat passed , and you were debating on whether to reopen the book or not. Your gaze tore away from him and onto the cherry blossom trees. Then he spoke again. “I’m Mark.”

You nod. “Y/n.”

“Pretty name.” He looked at you. He had nice eyes.

You couldn ‘t help but smile in return. “Thank you.”

A moment passed again as you both sat in a semi-comfortable silence. You had reopened the book. You winded a small strand of your hair around your index finger. He just stared back out the trees. They were beautiful. They don ‘t bloom at random times of the year , and with them blooming now , Seoul felt fresh to him. Anew. Like what spring should feel like.

“Do you have any specific genre you like to read, Y/n?” Mark piped up, gazing at you again.

Once more, you closed your book. “Dystopian and fantasy. You know books with war politics. Trilogies and sagas with a lot of plot armour. You know books with dreamy writing and-” Suddenly, you cut yourself off. “Sorry for rambling. What about you?”

Mark grinned as a small laugh escaped his chapped lips. He looked down at his shoes in thought and raised his eyes back to yours. “Mystery. Definitely mystery.”

“You read the Hardy Boys as a kid?” You cocked an eyebrow. It was a simple question.

“How did you guess?” He kept the grin plastered on his face.

“I think it’s every kid ‘s starter series.” You smile back. “It was my first.”

“Well.” He leaned back on the bench. “My people don ‘t read that much. Even as we grew up , they ‘d ditch the book for HotWheels.”

“My people only read the filthy stuff.” You mirrored his action , so you could get a better look at him. “That ‘s all they read.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I never understood why people did that. Dark romance can be so nasty.”

Your ears perked at the statement. Yes! Someone with sense who didn ‘t let the internet distort them. “Thank you! I ‘ve been saying that since the whole trend started.”

“I mean , being in love with someone who literally abuses you. That ‘s so strange. And they romanticize and swoon over it too.”

“Oh my god, Mark.” You were somehow so comfortable around him already. You just met and you already thought you made a friend. “Finally someone with a brain.”

Mark just smiled back , leaving both of you staring at each other for a moment. Something passed , and you could literally feel it.

“Do you…want to exchange numbers?” Normally , you ‘d never prompt that question. But today you found yourself doing something different.

“Yeah, i mean, that ‘d be cool.” He agreed , pulling out his phone and opening the phone app. He set to creating a contact and passed the phone to you. “Put in your number. I ‘ll text you.”

So you did. “Wanna give me yours?” You asked , handing him the phone.

“Nah. you ‘ll get it when I text you.”

You both smiled again. The way you were smiling it was like you ‘d just found your person.

#mark lee #mark scenarios #nct dream #nct drabbles #renjun #jaemin #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #mark lee x reader

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goombasinastack · 4 months

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splatoon 3 hot take turned impromptu essay

was stuck offline in splatoon 3 because internet was actin up and i realized how pretty the photomode splatoon 3 filters are compared to the actual game

i was taking photos on brinewater and thought. damn. this game looks fine but i miss how VIBRANT splatoon 1 was! i wish i could play sploon 3 with this photomode filter on all the time. and brinewater is the best map for this because of the sunset lighting! so i went to one of the worst offenders mapwise for general color—undertow spillway. it is a warm gray mess:

for someplace underground, it’s WAY too warm of a tone—even if there are skylights, they aren’t very well defined, as they’re off in the background—they’d be better with some light shafts to pop out more, imo.

so here’s undertow with photomode filter #6 (this would’ve been a video but tumblr limits to 1 video per post):

and i think this looks a lot nicer, colorwise! the icky warm gray is shifted to a soft pink—and while that’s still not in keeping with the lack of obvious skylights, it works better than warm gray.

so then i opened ibis x paint and got to work on a filter that would hopefully help elevate the entire game’s look:

on top is photomode filter #6, in the middle is the original screenshot, and on the bottom is my proposed filter.

i upped the contrast, brightness, and saturation a bit, then added a 5% pure magenta (#FF00FF) overlay layer on top of that. then i added a slight gaussian blur to emulate antialiasing, which nintendo refuses to do for some reason!

and i wanna play splatoon like that! i miss the vibrancy and intricacy of splatoon 1…

incoming splatoon 1 essay‼️

not only were the colors eye-bleachingly bright, but the overall game feel was much more immersive—especially in ink physics. you could paint trees, and the ink would drip down through leaves as if it were rain… ink splatter would respond to the movements of platforms, keeping its intertia as it dripped! you could see the textures of surfaces through the ink, as if it were an actual liquid instead of a layer of thick oil. 3 doesn’t have any of those special touches.

there’s also the music… 1’s ost feels so much more WEIRD and experimental than the later games, and that really helps cement that this is not human society—this is a new thing—which tracks for splatoon 1, as it was so zany nobody had ever seen anything quite like it before! splatoon 2 follows this sheer melting-pot of brashness and creativity with evolving and varied styles—where once was punk and weird samples in Squid Squad is now groovy rock in Wet Floor, jazz in Ink Theory, and also whatever Sashi-Mori was. also i <3 chirpy chips. splatoon 3’s music goes back to that punk, but i feel that it loses some of the charm and creativity of the first two games. C-side is pure metal, and hardly uses any weird instruments. there have sparsely been other splatbands involved with regular battle music—Yoko&tgb call back to the jazz of Ink Theory which i love! Off the Hook’s new tracks delve into a new style in piano rock. but the main band kind of falls flat to me. :(

let’s talk stages. in splatoon 1, stages were wildly different from each other, including skateparks, construction sites, underpasses, malls, sewage plants, and other locals that are culturally underground. the rest of the trilogy moves away from this in a story standpoint, as ink battles evolve from punky, diy competitions into full-fledged championships in 2 and 3, with advancing battle infrastructure as time progresses. that’s fine, and honestly it’s cool to see that kind of worldbuilding! but in 1, each stage was designed about and influenced by the area it represented. Arowana Mall is a straight line with high vantage points on the second/third story because it’s a mall. Pirahna Pit features convenyor belts that shuffle refuse around because it’s a trash plant. Blackbelly Skatepark has so many hills and valleys because it’s a skatepark, for goodness sake. splatoon 3’s original stages have some of this charm, but it feels lost in ambiguity. why doesn’t Mincemeat Metalworks have small moving platforms on cranes or other heavy machinery? Idk, have some grates and one-way drops, and a car on a post. why isn’t there any water incorporated into the stage design of Brinewater Springs? Idk, have 2 paintable walls and a tetris piece. 3’s original stages have little to no connection between their locals and the geometry, which make it feel same-y compared to previous games.

maybe this is because of the inflexible philosophy of the designers—or their corporate oversight, maybe. for stages, you need to make a straight line or tetris piece with few routes to push, in an effort to promote the game’s main premise of Chaos. for music, you need to make punk songs that aren’t too weird so they don’t drive away the parents. maybe the little ink touches could have been missing because development was rushed?

i honestly dont know why it happened out this way—perhaps the splatoon team just needed more time to cook, in order to squeeze out that extra 20% of game feel? or maybe it was that speculated corporate oversight, i dunno. things WERE missing on launch—notable exceptions being X rank, online tableturf lobbies, and no more than three salmon run maps. i know we’ve yet to even get the DLC but for being about 75% of the way through the game’s content lifespan, but splatoon 3 feels incomplete. there have been improvements, yeah! i just wish there could’ve been more. i would rather have waited another year for splatoon 3 if it were polished that much better, y’know?

i honestly feel like splatoon 1 captured that creative, no-holds-barred mantle of Chaos better than 3 does. 3 feels… flanderized, in a way. the curse of trilogies, perhaps? writing about it more, it feels like not only have the in-game sports of turf war been ripped out of its seedy home and thrust into the spotlight, and gone “mainstream” (see: massive squidsport companies investing in multimillion battle lobbies with holograms and lockers [sunken scroll about that!], flying coffee machines that grant you brief invincibility, new rules and techniques that allow squid surges and rolls, etc.), but also the Real Life Physical Video Game Cartridge of Splatoon has been popularized massively with the sequels on the Switch. maybe i’m not missing the “vibrancy” of splatoon 1 when i look at the colors and photomode filters of splatoon 3, but instead the inherent punkiness and counterculture inspiration that i see in the original.

fuck capitalism, i guess!

#splatoon 3 #long post #i did not think i’d be writing an essay tonight #on SPLATOON no less. i feel like im on storming the ivory tower #thats a good blog site btw i love their stuff #but anyways... i was like 12 or 13 when i first got splatoon 1 #i was an orange n-zap/carbon roller (i forget which kit) main #i never played any of the splatfests but i imagine they were really fun!#my internet connection in the basement was never really that good so i never played much.... i never finished story mode until years later #this also means that i'm probably misremembering specific splatoon 1 tidbits. let me know if i messed anything up? or whatever you think lo #it's 2:11 am and i need to wake up early lmao #goodnight and thanks for reading

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theinquisitxor · 4 months

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2024 Anticipated Book Releases

I thought I had a lot of anticipated book releases for 2023, but 2024 is also proving to be a year of many books I'm excited about too. These are all the books I'm looking forward to in the first half of the year!

January:

-A Fragile Enchantment by Alison Saft: (Jan 2nd) rom-com fantasy about a dressmaker hired to make the royal wedding dress, but she starts to fall for the prince instead.

-Mislaid in Parts Half-Known Wayward Children 9) by Seanan (Jan 9th) The second to last book in this novella series, this one featuring dinosaurs!

-The Atlas Complex (The Atlas Series #3) by Olive Blake (Jan 9th) the final books to this magical dark academia trilogy, and I've been excited for this one since the ending of book 2.

-Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands (Emily Wilde 2) by Heather Fawcett (Jan 16th) The second book in this new historical fantasy series, in which Emily and Wendall go on a new adventure in the Austrian Alps. This is one of my most anticipated books of the year.

-City of Stardust by Georgia Summers (Jan 30th) this is a new fantasy debut that sounds similar to The Starless Sea and features a woman descending down into a subterranean world to try and break a generational curse.

-House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City 3) by SJM (Jan 30th) I've been enjoying SJM's crescent city books the most of all her series, and I'm looking forward to this one after how book 2 ended.

February

-The Warm Hands of Ghosts by Katherine Arden (Feb 13th) This is possibly my most anticipated book of the year, and Katherine Arden's newest adult release. A historical fiction (and a little magical realism?) set in Europe during WW1 following a combat nurse trying to find her (presumably) dead brother.

-The Book of Doors by Gareth Brown (Feb 13th) A debut magical realism fantasy set in NYC with books, bookstores, and a mystery book. I've heard many good early reviews of this one.

-What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher (Feb 13th) This is a follow up novella to What Moves the Dead following Alex Easton in a new horror adventure. This one has such a cool cover.

-The Briar Book of the Dead by AG Slatter (Feb 13th) A coven of witches keeps a town and the border between realms safe.

March

-A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft (March 5th) I'm very excited to get two new Allison Saft books in 1 year. This is a dark academia fantasy about two rival scholars trying to figure out who killed their mentor. Sapphic romance too I believe.

-The Prisoner's Throne by Holly Black (March 5th) This is the conclusion to The Stolen Heir, and I'm looking forward to the seeing more of the characters from the original series make an appearance in this one.

-The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo (March 19th) This is a spooky queer horror novella set in 1920s Appalachia. Small town religiosity and something sinister creeping in the woods? This just sounds like a novella I'd enjoy.

-Song of the Huntress by Lucy Holland (March 21st) A new book from Lucy Holland, also set in magical ancient Briton. A warrior queen falls into trouble and teams up with the Wild Hunt to save her kingdom. Sapphic/queer romance.

-The Hedewitch of Fox Hall by Anna Bright (March 24th) a fantasy romance book set in medieval Wales as a hedge witch and prince team up to help prevent magic from fading away. The cover of this book is so beautiful!

April

-The Familiar by Leigh Barduo (April 9th) I don't really know much about this one, other than it is a new adult novel by Leigh Bardugo set in 1400s Spain. Also one of my most anticipated releases of the year.

-Song of Six Realms by Judy Lin (April 23rd) A young adult fantasy about a musician who goes to the Duke of Dreams's realm and must help stop a disaster.

June

-Running Close to the Wind by Alexandra Rowland (June 13th) A new high seas fantasy that was directly inspired by OFMD and Terry Pratchett. This is very queer and seems like it's going to be a lot of fun.

-Foul Days by Genovena Dimova (June 25th) A slavic fantasy story about a witch who has to team up with a detective as she is being hunted by her ex, the Tsar of Monsters. I've heard some very good early reviews of this book too.

-Children of Anguish and Anarchy (Children of Blood and Bone 3) by Tomi Adeyemi (June 25th) I honestly don't know if I'm going to read this anytime soon, but I've been waiting for this final book for almost 4 years now, so I just want to see how the series ends.

I think that's it for now! Release dates tend to change, and I'm sure I will be adding or editing this list as the new year starts. I'd love to hear of any new releases you are excited for!

Second half of 2024/To be determined:

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T Kingfisher (August)

The Mercy of Gods by James SA Corey (August)

The Whisper Between Worlds by Amanda Foody (TBD)

Lady Macbeth by Ava Reid (TBD)

#2024 anticipated book releases #2024 books #book releases #bookblr #fantasy books #my post

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