aurorawest

[aurorawest]

"READ MY DNI" no. use your block button like an adult. i'm not scrolling through the many-paragraphs-long pinned posts of every blog i reblog something from. if you insist certain types of people aren't welcome in the notes of your posts then it's your responsibility to curate that. or choose a closed social media platform like facebook or instagram. or go and live in a barn away from humanity if you really don't like sharing the world with people who are different from you

#queue can handle it from here

[aurorawest]

if you don‘t personally own one but your roommates/parents do and you are allowed to use it, that counts as yes

#I own one but I don’t use it lol

[aurorawest]

An edge of Beltany stone circle in Donegal, Ireland.

Under a grey sky, 64 large upright standing stones arranged in a large circle have stood for thousands of years on a commanding hill overlooking the surrounding countryside.

#donegal #ireland

[aurorawest]

"if you ship this thing it's because you're too naïve to understand that it's toxic and that you wouldn't like a relationship like this" actually it's because I see one of them as a mentos drop and the other as a bottle of coke zero and I want to watch the mess they'll be together

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Look at this happy spoiled loaf. 🍞 Photo from my collection, no date/other info known.

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practice sketch

#loki

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Gothic fiction b like what if there was a deeply symbolic freak

#queue can handle it from here

[aurorawest]

I'm being very brave today

#queue can handle it from here

[aurorawest]

Disneyland, Paris, France

#my favorite magic kingdom style park #disneyland paris #france

[aurorawest]

One day only! Stock up on cozy fantasy books with the Cozy the Day Away sale!

WHO

40+ cozy fantasy indie authors

WHAT

eBooks, paperbacks, hardbacks, and audiobooks on sale from 50% off to 100% off!

WHERE

www.promisepress.org/cozysalelist

OAK KING HOLLY KING, a queer romantasy wherein a fearsome fae warrior falls head-over-heels for a Victorian clerk, is on sale for 50% off!

Perfect for readers who enjoy…

fae folklore

Victorian shenanigans

big buff guys who just wanna be soft

sharp little guys who are tired of being kicked around

lush fantasy worlds, liminal spaces, cozy cottagecore vibes, and queer community.

Head on over to Promise Press and Cozy the Day Away!

[aurorawest]

okay what did i miss

(yes some of these overlap and some are suppositions. for example if parchment is always used for ephemera, rough drafts, notes, and never re-used or re-purposed, we can also assume that the author is unaware of wax tablets as a concept)

#lol

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#never heard of it but i love Whale Rider #i need to watch this #kawa

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im slooowly recovering from my hand surgery… so to get back into the swing of things i did a few studies of some photos i took over the last few months. ive also been experimenting with making my own brushes - i made every brush i used for these !

[aurorawest]

NINE-TENTHS

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life.

The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance.

And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

🐉☕❤️

A sassy, queer, alternate universe romance from Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2011 author J.M. Frey. Wrapped in discussions of autonomy and colonialism, Nine-Tenths meets in the middle between Red, White & Royal Blue and the Temeraire series.

🐉☕❤️

Part One

There's this thing in stories called the "inciting incident". 

And mine? It's a goddamn doozy.

It’s the part of the book, right at the start, where the lovers have their meet-cute, the farm boy leaves for the wider world, the Chosen One is attacked by her first evil monster, blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean. It's the place where everything opens up and you have no idea what you're in for—only that it'll be exciting.

I know all about Inciting Incidents because I was going to be a writer.

No, I thought I was going to be a writer. Historical romance, that’s my jam. Dukes, rakes, windblown-gowns, dropped handkerchiefs, cliffside confessions—I am a slut for that stuff. Forget real history (totally flunked ‘We’re-Feeding-You-Colonialist-Narratives-Disguised-As-Education’ 101). Give me made-up kingdoms and far-flung pirates. Give me the fantasy of a happily ever after that lasts beyond ‘the end’. Give coffee and stories, and I am a content boy.

But right before he got sick, in the summer between my first and second year of university, my Dad and I had a serious talk about writing. How much work it is. How long it takes to start paying off. Backup plans.

And then… after, I thought, well, he wasn’t wrong. If life was going to be pointlessly, stupidly, cruelly short, then I should spend my time trying to do something good, right? I switched majors. Science makes sense. Science is logical. Science creates vaccines and saves lives. Science can bring species back from the brink of extinction. Science doesn’t break your heart.

All of this is to say that I can—with complete and utter certainty—point to the exact moment when my life became a trash fire. It was my twenty-fourth birthday, and my big sister Gemma gave me the dumbest, but totally plot-inciting gift: a sunrise alarm clock.

The Incident starts like this, in Mum’s pokey poppies-and-roosters kitchen, with Gemma leaning on the back of my chair: 

"I have a perfectly good alarm clock." I hold up my phone, then let it slap back down onto the plastic tablecloth. "Goes ding when there's stuff."

My sister heaves the kind of sigh only eldest-born siblings make, indulgent and frustrated at the same time. I love making her make that noise. It's hilarious.

"It wakes you up gently," Gem says. "So you’re not cranky."

"I’m not cranky in the mornings."

Everyone laughs. I may have snapped at Stuart this morning when he shook my foot through my childhood bed sheets like an aggressive chihuahua. Okay. So I'm cranky in the mornings.

"I don't see how it's supposed to work." Stu grabs the clock. "How can you see the light if your eyes are closed?"

As the younger brother of twin siblings, I am used to having the toys I’m playing with pulled out of my hands. Instead of trying to snatch it back, I fiddle with the iridescent green bow that was on my present, then stick it to my ear. Mum smirks at my accessory, but otherwise her prim little 'all my babies are home to roost' face stays in place.

I'm the only one of us who went away to school, and stayed away. Gem came back to live with Mum straight after she finished her undergrad, so Mum wouldn't be alone in the house. Stuart never left the city, though he's got his own place now. But that's why I stayed away after I graduated last year. Mum and Gem don't need me, and if I came back, Stu would try to get me to join his crew.

I go weak in the knees for the kind of person jacked enough to pick me up and consensually throw me around. Standing on a roof next to a whole crew of pretty roughs trying to help them replace shingles? That's gonna lead to me swooning and dying of a broken neck. Stu doesn’t want that on his conscience.

Because she's a bossy know-it-all, Gem takes my present from Stu and opens it to show me how it works. She huffs. "You can see sunlight through your eyelids. It just works, okay?"

Stu helps himself to another piece of my birthday cake, licking the icing off his fingers and the serving knife. Mum slaps the hand holding the knife, and Stu flushes up and sets it down. He descends on his third piece like a wolf, but at least now he's watching his manners.

"There's an instruction manual," I point out as Gem tosses the booklet on the table.

"The day you read the instructions," Mum says, "is the day I'll know for sure the fairies really swapped you."

It's an old joke, being the Changeling child. I'm the only one of them with dark hair. The rest of my family are blond as heck.

Mum’s grinning into that little curl in the side of her mouth that holds secrets. Dad always called it Mum's 'Peter Pan Kiss’. He'd wrap his arms around her waist and kiss that corner, and Mum would swat at him for ruining her lipstick.

Thinking about Dad reminds me he's dead.

I hate the swoop-and-stab sensation in my chest that comes with remembering. Especially when there's a moment you want to share, and you turn your head to his chair and start composing the sentence in your head: "Hey, Mum's doing that—" and then you stop.

You stop composing. Stop turning. Stop thinking about sharing. Stop breathing.

Because that chair is empty.

Dad's dead.

And you'll never get the chance to point out the Peter Pan kiss again. Or watch Mum swat him. Or listen to him tease us for falling for Mum's Old World fairy stories. Or hear his stupid har-har-har donkey laugh, thick with his French accent.

It's my birthday. 

He's not here. 

I'll have another birthday, next year, and he won't be there for that one either.

I try to control my breathing, but Mum hears it hitching. I'm already staring at Dad's terrible empty chair, so it's not like I can hide what I'm thinking about. Mum curls her fingers over my knuckles.

"I wish he was here too, mo leanbh," she says softly. 

Stu and Gem go quiet.

"Sucks," I cough out, deciding to give no one the pleasure of watching me actually cry. I'll save it for later, when I'm back in my own apartment. Not because of any kind of 'real men don't' toxic masculinity bullshit, but because I hate the fuss. They take the shit my therapist tells them about being my support network too much to heart.

"More tea, Mummers?" I ask instead.

"Time for something stronger, don't you think?"

Next Part | Read on Wattpad

Trailer Music: "A Thousand Years" by The Piano Guys Cover Art: @seancefemme

#this looks adorable #nine tenths #jm frey

[aurorawest]

'And my—oh, my postcard.' His own voice sounded distant. It was amazing how fast you could accept something impossible. Or, maybe it was just Joe; everything in the world seemed pretty extraordinary to him, with no baseline memories about normal. 'Someone sent it to me from...your side. Maybe I'm from your side, really? That would explain a lot.' 'Maybe,' Kite said softly. Something inside Joe woke up again.

The Kingdoms, Natasha Pulley, pg 104

Maybe, Joe! Maybe!! God this book hits SO MUCH HARDER the second time you read it.

#missouri my poor little meow meow #joe tournier #missouri kite #the kingdoms #natasha pulley

[aurorawest]

Cerulean Warbler, #birbfest2024 day 4 bird. Birbfest is hosted by @monkeymintaka this year and was created by @birdietam.art

#birds #queue can handle it from here

[aurorawest]

ハイイロチュウヒ（Hen Harrier）

#raptors #birds #queue can handle it from here