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hollymbryan · 11 months

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Blog Tour Spotlight: THE LIBRARY OF BROKEN WORLDS by Alaya Dawn Johnson (w/ #giveaway)!

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the Rockstar Book Tours blog tour for The Library of Broken Worlds by Alaya Dawn Johnson! I’ve got all the book and author details, plus an excerpt, for you below; there’s also a giveaway so be sure to read to the end!

About the Book

title: The Library of Broken Worlds author: Alaya Dawn Johnson publisher: Scholastic Press release date: 6 June 2023

A girl matches wits with a war god in this kaleidoscopic, thought-provoking tale of oppression and the cost of peace, where stories hide within other stories, and narrative has the power to heal -- or to burn everything in its path -- from World Fantasy Award–winning author Alaya Dawn Johnson.

A girl and a god, alone in communion...

In the winding underground tunnels of the Library, the great peacekeeper of the three systems, a heinous secret lies buried -- and Freida is the only one who can uncover it. As the daughter of a Library god, Freida has spent her whole life exploring the Library's ever-changing tunnels and communing with the gods. Her unparalleled access makes her unique -- and dangerous.

When Freida meets Joshua, a Tierran boy desperate to save his people, and Nergüi, a disciple from a persecuted religious minority, Freida is compelled to help them. But in order to do so, she will have to venture deeper into the Library than she has ever known. There she will discover the atrocities of the past, the truth of her origins, and the impossibility of her future.

With the world at the brink of war, Freida embarks on a journey to fulfill her destiny, one that pits her against an ancient war god. Her mission is straightforward: Destroy the god before he can rain hellfire upon thousands of innocent lives -- if he doesn't destroy her first.

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About the Author

Alaya Dawn Johnson is an award-winning short story writer and the author of seven novels for adults and young adults. Her most recent novel for adults, Trouble the Saints, won the 2021 World Fantasy Award for best novel. Her debut short story collection, Reconstruction, was an Ignyte Award and a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award finalist. Her debut YA novel The Summer Prince was longlisted for the National Book Award for Young People's Literature, and the follow-up Love Is the Drug was awarded the Andre Norton Nebula Award. Her short stories have appeared in many magazines and anthologies, most notably the title story in The Memory Librarian, in collaboration with Janelle Monáe. She lives in Oaxaca, Mexico.

Connect with Alaya: Linktree | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Excerpt

By the time Samlin left me three weeks later, I felt like a blindfolded animal: confused, disoriented, ready to bite. I cried for days and sent him increasingly desperate messages until I realized he would never respond to me again. Nadi told me I’d forget about him, that everyone had to fall in love for the first time, that it would get better. I wanted to believe zir. But I was shivering, growing into ice, drifting into an empty sea. I didn’t know how to say what I was feeling. I hardly knew how to feel it.

Nadi had little time for me in those days. Ze was sequestered at a diplomatic round table with the Mahām leadership to address recent protests about their Treaty-condemned occupation of the Miuri moon. I didn’t push. The thought of telling Nadi precisely what had happened or not happened in that nanodrop made my guts twist like wet rope and my head fill with cotton. Better Iemaja, I decided. Better a god who barely understands the minutiae of human affairs and only speaks in communion.

I walked inside her because I had seen myself in Samlin’s deep eyes and hated that reflection. Freida the sweet. Freida the beautiful. Freida, once an excellent find but now inconvenient, twitchy, withdrawn, and desperate. I was beginning to see myself as they did, all those who stared and stared and saw nothing behind my eyes but a dark mirror. What was my heart, what were my bones, what were my constellations of synapses firing, lighting up my soul? Nadi insisted I was human, but even so, I had been left to freeze out in the ocean because no one thought I was worth any more. I was afraid, Nameren, so very afraid that they were right.

I had begun in Kohru, the artery of childhood and discovery and, in some ways, rebellion. But I was now in unknown capillaries. Some passages were so narrow that I had to get on my belly to pass through, the stone warm against my exposed skin. Sometimes the crystal would crack and water would bubble through the seams and I would slurp it down. It tasted of moonlight and copal and stillness. I told Iemaja that I loved her. The water then bubbled with her laughter and tasted of rose petals. It grew thick and slow with sugar. I lay in that soft, sticky womb for a while. The sweetness had been made to balance the salt of my tears. She is kind like that, Iemaja.

I told her about Samlin. I told her how helpless he had made me feel, not in my body, which he’d left untouched, but in my spirit. My tongue was heavy, as though it belonged to someone else. But still I spoke, until I reached the end.

About the Giveaway

One (1) lucky winner will receive a finished copy of The Library of Broken Worlds by Alaya Dawn Johnson! This one is US only and ends 19 June 2023. Enter via the Rafflecopter below, and good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Tour

Here’s this week’s schedule so you can follow along!

Week Two:

5/28/2023 - celiamcmaahonreads - IG Review 5/29/2023 - thealylifestyle - Review/IG Post 5/30/2023 - travelersguidetobooks - IG Review 5/31/2023 - Jaime_of_gryffindor - Review/IG Post 6/1/2023 - @get.outside.and.read - IG Post 6/2/2023 - Book-Keeping - Spotlight/IG Post **you are here! 6/3/2023 - More Books Please blog - Review/IG Post

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siriuslygrimm · 3 months

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Repeated Recitations

#BOOKREVIEW - Repeated Recitations - #TheLibraryOfBrokenWorlds #blog

A girl of the Library, a place that contains a multitude of stories from planetary systems, faces off against a war god in a battle of will and wits in The Library of Broken Worlds by Alaya Dawn Johnson. A foundling of the Library, Frieda has spent her entire life exploring the vast reaches of the Library and communing with the gods in less conventional ways than that of others, offering her a…

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#alaya dawn johnson #book #book review #reading #review #the library of broken worlds

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royalberryriku · 4 months

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I'm not very far through it, but 'The Library of Broken Worlds' by Alaya Dawn Johnson is delightfully new and inspiring.

Maybe this is a little pessimistic to say, but I always figured that most stories have already been told to some degree, in the sense that we will all inevitably write using a pre-existing archetype in world building regardless of if we intend to, and only different variations on these archetypes were left to tell, but this book is proving me wrong left and right; showing a world that is so thoroughly unique and beautiful in its creativity and world building that I can't help but reevaluate that mentality. I have yet to know more of the story or the overall theme, but so far this book has proven to be wonderfully delightful in its handling of a whole new and distant world and incredibly original. It's written in such a compelling way that reveals its lore and rules spectacularly and uses a very unique method of writing that, while has been done before, feels fresh in its delivery. It's one thing to tell a story, but another to tell it to a god. I highly recommend it even if I'm only going from the first one and a half chapters; that was all it took for this book to blow me away.

#alaya dawn johnson #the library of broken worlds #I need to get into more of her(?) novels and short stories #what an incredible writer to be able to reveal such a refreshing new world in a way that is understandable and coherent to the audience #it's such a remarkable skill to be able to go down the show as is route rather than conveniently translate #which isn't to say the latter is at all bad in fact I love it and it's very helpful #but it's an amazing skill to be ABLE TO show a world and its rules without using translation and simply SHOWING a world so different to ours #it's actually very effective in showing readers how little we know and much more we can learn of a new culture and world(s)#it's so interesting and compelling #idk how to even word this in a way that gives it justice #but it's just so good #actually tangent but it's part of why I love the writing done by some friends of mine who do similar things #esp when they incorporate old folklore into fantasy and sci fi?? Like esp from their own cultures and incorperate it I love that sm #Amd the way they disgard translation to SHOW that culture in its beauty rather than try to water it down?? I love that so much #And it just takes a really skillful writer to be able to pull people in who don't understand or may even refuse to leave what they know #That's such a wonderful skill and I will always love it when a writer takes us from what we're used to into what we don't #and what we SHOULD learn if only we had the courage to leave the comfort of what we know and understand #Anyway yeah don't mind me I'm jusy gushing again

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beckysbook5 · 1 year

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Waiting on Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday! This weeks #WaitingonWednesday post is spotlighting a new addition to my TBR; a book filled with stories within stories and where a girl has to match wits with a war god!

Waiting On Wednesday” is a weekly meme that first originated at Breaking the Spine but has since linked up with “Can’t Wait Wednesday” at Wishful Endings now that the original creator is unable to host it anymore. Either way, this fun feature is a chance to showcase the upcoming releases that we can’t wait to get our hands on! Hello, hello! I hope you’re all having a great week so far. My week…

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#The Library of Broken Worlds #Waiting on Wednesday

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mylittleventbook · 1 month

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𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔

𝐼 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑

𝐴𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑠.

𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑝 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑 “𝑀𝑦 𝐽𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑖”

𝑀𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑐,

“ 𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟” “𝑂𝑢𝑟’𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟”

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑗𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐

𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 , 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑝 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦.

𝑇𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠

𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑑 , 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠

“𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑛”.

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beljar · 2 years

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Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.

Kahlil Gibran, from The Broken Wings, 1912

#khalil gibran #the broken wings #solitude #sorrow #english literature #world literature #quotes #literary text #books and libraries #dark acadamia aesthetic #classic literature

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lobpoints · 2 years

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Angela who doesnt actually have a horrifying mind prison but people act like it is vs Ayin has an actual horrifying mind prison but people act like it isn't in this case since people isn't aware that LC is a mind prison despite the plot literally stated so

#fist fighting with people about the library in the bad end no longer symbolize bad thing since originally it was born out of #angela desire to live and explore the world anyway and in the end it a proof of her self growth so who give a fuck #vs lobcorp entire purpose is to be ayin's torture chamber #THE LIBRARY IN THE GOOD END I MEANT #oops #LIKE THE ENTIRETY OF HOW THE LIBRARY WORK WAS DUBIOUS IN THE BEGINNING #but then when you get to the ending both the bad end and the good end literally heavily hinted that #it less that Angela cant literally leave the library it is that she doesnt want to leave/is not ready to leave #once she has broken free and able to stand on her own two feets she eventually find her own freedom

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stormsthatrage · 4 months

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Imagine: Samantha Manson rents an apartment with other students in university because she wants to pay her own way through college. One night, the other students throw a party. Sam takes refuge in the campus library during this, because she does not want to be around that. But eventually the library closes for the night, and Sam has to go back.

Sam walks in on the partygoers, still there, hanging out around a "summoning ritual" for fun. They're cleaning up -- the ritual didn't work, obviously.

Sam wordlessly halts the clean-up efforts in their tracks by taking one look at the summoning circle, seizing a paintbrush, bodying people out of the way, and making a dozen minor adjustments to the summoning circle.

It's Sam. No one stops her, and no one is brave enough to ask any questions.

Sam finishes, then walks off without saying anything.

The partygoers look at each other, and then immediately try the summoning ritual again.

(Look, Sam has a reputation as a goth and, if you believe in that stuff, as a witch. Not to say that any of them actually believe in that stuff, but sometimes it's fun to pretend like you do, and, well. They already decided to give it their best shot tonight, and they know that a Sam-approved summoning circle is the best shot they'll get.)

They read out the spell. The candles flare, the flame turning a dark, poisonous green, then blow out. A surge of black light shoots up from the summoning circle, and a presence thickens the air around them.

Before them appears a being that they know, in their soul, is not of this world.

A creature of the realm of the dead looms before them, crown ablaze with fury. "Who dares--"

Sam, nonchalant, wanders back into the room. Wanders over to the summoning circle. Casually erases, with the tip of her shoe, what they know from their brief study of their occult book to be the containment layer of the summoning circle.

Casually says, "Hey, Danny, what pizza toppings do you want?"

The presence fades, but does not vanish completely. "Oh, come on Sam," says the being that an animal part of them recognizes as of the realm of the dead. "What the hell, you know I hate that."

Sam wanders back out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Well, I hate having my thermos broken!"

The being floats out of the summoning circle, and takes on the shape of a boy, touching down to the ground. The presence fades even further, until they wouldn't be able to tell the creature wasn't a boy if they hadn't already seen.

"Okay, first of all, that was at least 50% Tucker's fault--" it says, trailing after Sam. The conversation becomes unintelligible as they go to Sam's room and shut the door.

The partygoers are left in silence, with paint that has been turned to ash, brand-new candles that have been burned to stubs, and a terrifying new knowledge of the existence of the beyond.

And, for the unluckiest of them, terrifying new knowledge that the person they share a roof with has regular, real, dealings with the dead.

(Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrives. With a pineapple topping, of course.)

#danny phantom #danny phantom headcanon #danny phantom snippet #snippet #samantha manson #danny fenton #everyone who witnessed the events of the party is suddenly very wary of all of sam's friends #they don't know who is a human...

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televinita · 1 year

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holy CRIPES that’s a lot of snow. 10 inches in the last 24 hours?

#my cat's like 'hey. hey. why are the windows broken. why can't i see the world??' and seems very perplexed #the perils of basement living #thankfully they are large enough windows to still let in light above the snowline #anyway yeah I'm not going to to the library today either

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milf-harrington · 6 months

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i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from.

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner.

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed.

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like.

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently.

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament.

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

#stobin #platonic soulmates #also a bit of #steddie #as a treat (for me)#monster steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #this has been plaguing me all day #fic ideas

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ireadyabooks · 23 days

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Dystopian Reads to Die For 🔥 ☠️

Dystopian fiction has long been a staple on most bookshelves for quite some time (I’m looking at you, 1984), but it isn’t until the past decade or so that we’ve seen such great dystopian stories being told for young adults. I’m sure we all had our dystopian phase when a certain Mockingjay was making her blockbuster debut, so it makes it even more exciting to see the genre coming back into the limelight! We have compiled some of our favorite thrilling and electrifying YA dystopian novels for you to add to your TBR this month!

The Kill Factor by Ben Oliver

Fifty contestants. Five mental and physical challenges. One winner.

In a near-future where a virtual currency of digital content fuels a fame-hungry society, a brand-new experiment that combines social media and reality TV has been greenlit.

Voted on, and contestants are sent to a maximum-security reform camp on an island where they can have no contact with the outside world. To lose means prison. But to win is to be free. The most popular young offender with the most upvotes by the end is given both a second chance in society and a cash prize.

This kind of money could mean everything to Emerson and her family who live in the Burrows, one of the subterranean villages where the government have buried affordable housing. It's more than freedom. It could mean the chance to change her family’s circumstance and finally find a place in the society they’ve never been allowed into.

But what Emerson doesn’t know, what the viewers don’t know, is that the prison on the island is empty. Those who lose, those who are voted off aren’t incarcerated. Each challenge will leave more and more contestants to die. And the only choice they have is to win over viewers before it’s too late.

Start reading The Kill Factor now!

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

Ambition will fuel him.

Competition will drive him.

But power has its price.

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capitol, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined -- every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute... and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

Start reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes now!

Sirens by Braden Cawthon

A thrilling, apocalyptic horror debut from Braden Cawthon, perfect for fans of KR Alexander and Joe Hill!

Joel Walker wakes up to a world suddenly and frighteningly changed. In the wake of a massive power outage, an otherworldly siren begins to blare, changing all that listen to it for too long in frightening ways. Desperate to find his mother and little sister, Joel will have to survive in a world that is coming apart at its seams.

An edge-of-your seat thriller that will have readers guessing until the end, this debut novel is sure to make a huge splash with YA readers.

Start reading Sirens now!

The Library of Broken Worlds by Alaya Dawn Johnson

A girl and a god, alone in communion . . .

Start reading The Library of Broken Worlds now!

Monarch Rising by Harper Glenn

In a chilling near-future New United States of America, Jo Monarch has grown up in the impoverished borderlands of New Georgia. She’s given one chance to change her fate… if she can survive a boy trained to break hearts.

Today is the day Jo Monarch has been wishing on the moon about her entire life. It's the day of the Lineup, when she could be selected to leave her life in the Ashes behind. The day she could move across the mountains to a glittering, rich future.

Once Jo is plucked from the Lineup, the real test begins. She still needs to impress the New Georgia Reps at tonight's Gala, and her path forward leads straight to Cove Wells. The damaged stepson of one of the Reps, Cove has been groomed as an emotional weapon, taught that love is a tool -- and he's set on breaking Jo's heart next.

When a riot breaks out back in the Ashes the night of the Gala, Jo's dreams might all go up in smoke. Can she really have everything she's ever wished for… when it means leaving all her loved ones behind in the fire?

Harper Glenn's debut is as gripping as it is prescient, an unflinching meditation on whether love can save us from ourselves, and what it takes to be born anew.

Start reading Monarch Rising now!

The Getaway by Lamar Giles

Jay is living his best life at Karloff Country, one of the world's most famous resorts. He's got his family, his crew, and an incredible after-school job at the property's main theme park. Life isn't so great for the rest of the world, but when people come here to vacation, it's to get away from all that.

As things outside get worse, trouble starts seeping into Karloff. First, Jay's friend Connie and her family disappear in the middle of the night and no one will talk about it. Then the richest and most powerful families start arriving, only... they aren't leaving. Unknown to the employees, the resort has been selling shares in an end-of-the-world oasis. The best of the best at the end of days. And in order to deliver the top-notch customer service the wealthy clientele paid for, the employees will be at their total beck and call.

Whether they like it or not.

Yet Karloff Country didn't count on Jay and his crew--and just how far they'll go to find out the truth and save themselves. But what's more dangerous: the monster you know in your home or the unknown nightmare outside the walls?

Start reading The Getaway -- now in paperback!

#ireadya #yabooks #dystopian #ya dystopian #The Kill Factor #Ben Oliver #The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes #Suzanne Collins #Sirens #Braden Cawthon #The Library of Broken Worlds #Alaya Dawn Johnson #Monarch Rising #Harper Glenn #The Getaway #Lamar Giles

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historiaxvanserra · 4 months

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice.

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory.

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.”

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe.

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think.

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red.

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you.

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement.

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name.

She knows your name.

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses.

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here.

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity.

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”.

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment.

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove.

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark.

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty.

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps.

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes.

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens.

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow.

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait.

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles.

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again.

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls.

This house is something truly breathtaking.

It feels like a home you realize.

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son.

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms.

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother.

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp.

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it.

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.”

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him.

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence.

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense.

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark.

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer?

You want to live.

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--”

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse.

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you.

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her.

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms.

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you, “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.”

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious.

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye.

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you.

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect.

“I don’t think that's a good--”

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean.

“Rhys--” You warn gently.

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him.

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement.

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhys acotar #rhys fanfic #rhysand headcanons

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starboyshoyo · 1 year

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Tropes-To-Lovers

Characters: All NRC boys x fem!reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff

What were you to the NRC boys, before you were lovers?

Includes: Childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers.

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Trey Clover the boy next door

Everyone and their mother knows Trey Clover, the golden boy in your little provincial town. Sweet, intelligent, and he can bake? He’s a heartthrob in every definition of the word. But Trey’s only ever had eyes for you, his parents’ best friends’ daughter and the girl next door.

Joined at the hip from the moment you met, you’ve done it all together- but Trey’s been away at NRC for three years. You were sure he would move to the city after getting a taste of the wider world. So you’re caught off-guard when he returns to take over his family’s bakery, eight inches taller than you remember.

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he sees you, and you can feel the firmness of muscles under his shirt when you launch yourself at him, embracing him tightly. He has to bend down to hug you now, you realize. And his face is sharper now, jaw angular instead of the soft cheeks you were used to. When did that happen?

And when did he get so handsome?

Leona Kingscholar betrothed to his brother

Leona has only ever had one friend- you, the heir from the neighboring kingdom. It shouldn’t be a problem to love you the way he does, but the stars in the sky had other plans, it seemed. Because from the moment you were born, you were meant to marry Falena.

Leona has long-since learned that no matter what he does, he’ll never be enough to win the public’s love. It didn’t matter that he knew you never had feelings for Falena, or that Falena was seeing someone else in secret. His brother will be king, not him. He’ll watch you walk down the aisle towards him, and then he’ll go back to his room and take a nap, and tell himself that he won’t be upset. That’s just the way life will be.

One day, while napping behind a curtain in the royal library, he catches wind of something so very interesting. Your parents arrived in the kingdom that morning, bearing news: Falena’s engagement has been peaceably broken, by your own choice, nonetheless. It’s a huge, life-changing decision and so a formal dinner is being held, to re-discuss the terms of the treaty. Leona wants to snap you up right away to be his, but he has to bide his time. For now, he’ll meet your eye across the banquet table, scowl softening a little. He should have known that he has always been king in your heart.

Silver childhood soulmates

Right person, right place, right time. Rarely did the universe ever align so beautifully. From your first meeting at the tender age of five to the time you were accepted into NRC, Silver has always been by your side.

He’s the first thing you see when you wake up in the mornings and the final good night you say before going to sleep. When small birds land on your desk and deposit gifts of acorns and flowers to you, you know exactly who they were from and who was thinking of you at the moment. And when you look at your handsome knight, you can’t help but imagine him by your side, every step of the way for the rest of your life.

Silver is more than just your best friend and first love. He is your person, through and through.

Best Friends to Lovers

Epel Felmier first friend, first love

You met Epel on the first day of school, getting beat up by a blonde upperclassman in the hallway. Much to the surprise of both boys, you jumped in to help him- pulling him off the ground and scolding the taller boy, who merely scoffed and wandered off. Though Epel’s ego was a bit bruised, he was grateful to you for helping him.

Epel became your constant companion after that. You could listen to him talk for hours while laying on the floor of your dorm room, a bag of apple chips in hand. His roguish accent and mischievous jokes charm you a little more each day, making him more than just the rough-hewn boy you met at the entrance ceremony not long ago.

His grandparents know all about you from the letters he sends home. Even in ink, they can sense his lovestruck heart. They had felt the same way when they started courting all those years ago. The Felmier family are fools in love, it seems. You would call him your best friend if someone asked, but Epel wants to be so much more.

Ace Trappola best friends to lovers

It’s pathetic how fast Ace changed his tune. The first time he met you, he was jeering you for being a magicless human. Now, he’s in love with you? When did that happen? And why did it have to be with you of all people?

Ace isn’t fooling himself. He knows why it’s you. It’s simply because no one could ever capture his heart the same way you do, with your smiles and your laughs and the way you look at him in both disapproval and exasperated fondness when he makes a crude joke.

Don’t act surprised when he holds your hand out of the blue or when he searches your face with those eyes, wondering what it would feel like to kiss you silly right then and there. He wants you, not anyone else, and it’s driving him crazy.

Kalim Al-Asim what are we?

Everyone thinks you and Kalim are dating already. You joke about it all the time. Oh, yeah, we’re partners in crime! Soulmates! Two sides of the same coin- but the line between teasing and reality has begun to blur. Once, you even made a jibe that you’d marry him one day, and Kalim got you an actual ring! It was so extravagant- a ruby inlaid with smaller gilded gems along the edges. He told you it was a family treasure, kept in the storerooms of Scarabia and just waiting to adorn the hand of the right person.

You tried to refuse, but he insisted. Money wasn’t something the Al-Asim heir ever had to worry about. So you go along with it, the golden band rubbing between your fingers and his when you walk down the halls, hands interlaced.

How does Kalim really feel about you? You’re not sure, so one day you ask- Kalim, what are we?

He looks at you curiously. “Aren’t we engaged?”

Strangers to Lovers

Deuce Spade the hallway crush

Every day between alchemy and history of magic, Deuce finds himself scanning faces in the hallway for someone who makes his face flush and his palms turn sweaty. And every day when you catch his eye and send him a wave, he finds himself tangled up a little more in his heartstrings, tripping over his feet as he tries to return your greeting.

He’s not sure when he first noticed you. Maybe it was when he fumbled and nearly dropped a potion on the carpet, and you caught it. His heart did flutter a bit then, but maybe that was because he nearly messed up the project he had been working on all night. He wants to talk to you again so badly- more than just a ‘hello‘ or a ‘thanks.’ He wants to brighten up your day just by walking by, like you do for him. Maybe if he becomes an honors student, then you’ll finally notice him too.

Jack Howl the mysterious savior

Being hounded by a group of rogue students wasn’t in your plans for the day. Trying to slip between the mob, avoiding their prying hands and sharp words, a sudden growl makes them all look up. A tall boy with wolflike ears towers over them.

Leave them alone. His voice is sharp, like a dog's canines. Golden eyes meet yours, steely and cold, but they soften for a moment when you manage to say thank you.

Your savior rubs the back of his neck. ‘S nothing, he says gruffly, but the lingering traces of blush on his face tell a different story. Only when he leaves do you realize that you had never gotten his name. Perhaps fate will lead you to meet once again, in the near future.

Azul Ashengrotto love at first sight

One minute he’s discussing the best way to mix a potion with his lab partner. The next, he’s sitting straight in his chair, eyes blown wide when you walk into the room. You’ve ensnared Azul Ashengrotto’s attention and heart without a single word. And when you finally say hi to him, ignorant of his shady dealings and strange company, he’s caught- hook, line, and sinker.

Azul begins to do things for you. Not in the way he does for others, with a flourish of his pen and a snap of his fingers. No, you’re special. He could never ask anything of you.

It’s so obvious, the way he favors you and gives you the best of everything he has. But he can’t bring himself to care- not when this new feeling brings him such happiness.

Idia Shroud closer than he thought

Idia Shroud has never met you irl. No way. All you are to him is a profile picture on a leaderboard, telling him to dodge the next attack or that he’ll never beat you in the latest game the two of you are playing. You make his gloomy days a little brighter. And when they’re brighter, he finally takes a chance to step outside for a bit and go to class.

In class is where he met you. His charming desk partner, whose presence he enjoyed far more than he thought he would. He likes your jokes. He likes that you play the same games as him and nerd out about the same topics. But when he returns to the world of online anonymity, he can’t help but feel disloyal- so much so that he doesn’t notice the lilt of the voice in his speakers is the same one that rings in his ears when he falls asleep in class.

Malleus Draconia love from afar

No one knows who you are, a mere human who attends NRC. You could be dangerous as far as his retainers know. Malleus isn’t supposed to speak with you- but oh, does he want to.

He’s tried to ignore the pull towards you, but he just can’t. Why is this mere child of man lingering in his thoughts, ensnaring his every waking moment?

One night when Sebek is busy berating Silver for falling asleep on the job, he sneaks away and finds you beneath the moonlight, staring up at the stars. He’s caught like a fly in a web from the first hello.

Enemies to Lovers

Riddle Rosehearts academic rivals

He’s so annoying. With a loud voice, short stature, and short temper, you could consider Riddle Rosehearts to always be underfoot. But even you have to admire his academic prowess, his name topping the scores at every turn. And just under him, is you. How very frustrating.

You’re so focused on one-upping one another that you don’t even catch yourself when thoughts of him wander into your mind throughout the day. Of course you think of him, you’re trying to beat him. But slowly the competition turns into wondering. What does he do in his free time? What’s his favorite food, his favorite color?

Little do you know, he thinks of you too.

Ruggie Bucchi the goodhearted thief

You heard from your neighbors about the slum thief who steals things from their shops. It’s only a matter of time before he comes to you next, they warn, so be ready.

And ready you are. When a skinny boy with rounded ears atop his head tries to slip something into his pocket, you call him out. And when he dashes away, you scramble after him- tackling him in a paved alley near some dumpsters. Cans go crashing over to reveal several homeless youngsters, shivering in the cold and barely more than bones. The boy tosses the food to them before you can intervene- but why would you, when you’ve just seen what you saw?

When he comes into the bakery next time, you make sure he pays. But you also slip an extra loaf or two into his order, with a wink and a nod. Your conversations become a bit longer, a bit friendlier. He’s quite charming and you have to berate yourself for falling for a thief.

He’s stolen your heart, hasn’t he?

Floyd Leech the hallway bully

Floyd Leech. Just his name makes you groan and roll your eyes. It’s not just you he teases you in the hallway by holding your things over his head, but you seem to be his favorite. How are you supposed to get your notebook back when it’s dangling almost 8 feet above the ground, courtesy of his freakishly long arms?

The graceful solution you come up with is to kick him. Right in his eel, to summarize. His twin brother is by his side in an instant while you walk off.

Jade expects Floyd to be livid. But even when he’s doubled up on the ground in pain, he’s got a grin plastered across his face.

His shrimpy is such a badass.

Jamil Viper flirting rivals

For someone who’s usually level-headed and cool, you sure bring out Jamil’s temper. He can find a million ways to insult and discredit you, but still you’ll bounce back with some snarky, suggestive comment that just makes his blood boil.

He swears he can feel your eyes on him from across the hallways. It makes him want to pull his hood up over his face. But when you approach him, he’s as calm as ever. Why are you leaning closer, prefect, and running your hands over his tie? He’s not going to fall for your ruse, so don’t even try.

Still, his eyes can’t help but wander down to your lips, wondering if they would taste like he imagined.

Rook Hunt one-sided annoyance

It seems like you’ve gained yourself a one-man paparazzi recently. If Rook is meant to be a hunter, you have to wonder if he’s any good at his job. He never seems to conceal his presence, following you down the hallways brazenly while spouting off fake compliments about your demeanor and beauty.

Well, you thought they were fake. It’s hard to believe anyone is genuine in a school full of villains, but you might have caught the attention of the one person who actually is. His company isn’t so bad sometimes, especially when you can talk his ear off about anything and everything.

Sebek Zigvolt forced proximity

This was meant to be a partner project, not a threeway. But being paired with the great Malleus Draconia means putting up with his annoying, self-proclaimed bodyguard for the next week as well.

You pity Sebek’s alchemy partner, because he’s ignoring his own work in favor of hovering over you and his liege. His loud, unsolicited advice and passive-aggressive comments don’t make him any more bearable. By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re about ready to drop-kick him into the cauldron.

Thankfully, you and Malleus get your work done early. When you’re packing up your things to leave, you find Sebek quiet for once, deep in concentration as he rushes to finish his own work.

I don’t need the help of a human, he proclaims in that loud, obnoxious bark of his. But he doesn’t complain when you settle down next to him, stirring the potion while he measures out ingredients.

Exes to Lovers

Cater Diamond the one that got away

Cater knows you probably hate his guts. Hell, he hates his own guts for fucking up so badly. You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he drove you away with his constant neediness and self-deprecation. It took him years to realize that he was so focused on himself that he didn’t realize that you needed support too.

He’s been lonely for a while, working on himself and his problems in the shadows. It’s been a while since he last saw you- he knows you might not want to see him again anyways, but he’s changed now- both for himself and for you.

Cater wants you back, if you’ll have him.

Jade Leech second chance romance

Jade was nothing more than a talking stage that never got off the ground. He was fun to be around and a good hiking partner, but you stopped seeing him after first year ended and you no longer shared a class together.

You didn’t think of him much throughout your second and third year at NRC . But when you arrive at your new work study to meet your partner for the program, a tall, familiar figure greets you at the door.

“Jade?”

Vil Schoenheit right person, wrong time

Vil has no one but himself to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He broke things off with you after his manager advised him to- she said that a young, taken idol isn’t marketable. You need to think about your image.

The stage lights blinded him and he dropped you without a second thought. Any trace of you in his life was erased; smoothed over to perfection like a beauty filter.

But oh, how Vil regrets it when he scrolls on his phone late at night, your Magicam account pulled up to a photo of you laughing. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile like that at him again.

The icon for a DM request sits beside your profile picture. Vil regards it for a second, finger hovering over the button, then clicks.

Lilia Vanrouge facing the future

Lilia has always known that humans live short lives. In his time, he’s seen countless people born and died. It’s just a fact of human life; a phenomena he watches from the outside in- disconnected. It doesn’t dawn on him that yours too will run out until Malleus points it out- and then Lilia becomes scared.

He’ll cut you off, hiding in the shadows and avoiding your eyes until a great danger almost befalls you. It is then that Lilia realizes he’d rather have loved and lost you than never have known you at all.

Please, stay with him. You have the rest of your life, however short or long, to live by his side. Lilia would gladly warp time and face the consequences just for one more minute with you.

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