#Christmas Crown Summons

[sonsofks]

¡Bankai Live Xmas 2023 de Bleach: Brave Souls Promete un Espectáculo Explosivo!

Prepárate para una experiencia única en el universo de Bleach: Brave Souls con el emocionante Bankai Live Xmas Special 2023. KLab Inc., líder en juegos móviles en línea, anunció que su exitoso juego de acción 3D, Bleach: Brave Souls, ¡se prepara para deslumbrar el domingo 24 de diciembre de 2023 a las 20:00 (JST/UTC+9) con un especial navideño que no te puedes perder! En este exclusivo…

[callme-holly]

Hi

I was summoned by your post :)

Uhm some really domestic fluff with Darry? Like, decorating the tree together, or helping make Christmas dinner

Or I feel like Darry would secretly save up for something Reader is fixated on for a Christmas gift and just sneak it into their stocking or whatever when they're dead asleep

'𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 [𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧 : probably wont post over christmas but enjoy y'all <33

The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and ginger, no doubt from the candle burning away on the coffee table, giving the house a warm festive feel, and a Christmas tree occupied the corner of the living room, standing tall and bare. Darry had insisted on going and getting one; it’s what his parents would have done after all, and who were you to tell him no? Besides, it looked nice, and it would look even better once it was decked out in lights and ornaments.

“It’s gonna look real pretty.” Darry hums, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, his chin resting on top of your shoulder, lips brushing the side of your neck. You don’t have to look to know he’s smiling softly. “I got the old decorations from the basement. They should last us this year.” 

You turn around in his embrace to wrap your own arms around his neck, looking up at him with soft, gentle eyes. “You’re not letting the boy help out?” 

He scoffs, shaking his head lightly. “You know how that went last year.” 

And, yeah, you do. Last year's decorations, despite being equally as beautiful, had been nothing short of disastrous, with mistletoe over every doorway and tinsel in every corner of every room. It took you multiple days to untangle the mess the brothers had made, and Darry vowed to never let them anywhere near the festive decor again. 

“Well,” you drawl, your hand cupping the back of his head, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Guess that leaves me and you in charge then.” Darry grins, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“Guess so,” He breathes against your skin, making your pulse quicken before he pulls away fully, turning to the box sitting precariously on the coffee table. 

It's packed full of all sorts of Christmas things: ornaments, candles, stockings, lights, the dreaded tinsel... There’s so much that you're unsure on where to even start, dragging out a roll of fairy lights that usually drape around the branches of the tree. 

 Darry looks over at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow as a low chuckle leaves him. “Give me those. You always end up making the knots worse.” You open your mouth, probably to protest, but he holds up a finger to forestall you, instead snatching the lights from your grip and working them back into their string-like form with large, clumsy hands. 

It's hard not to admire him when he's like this, his brow furrowed in concertration. His hair falls over his forehead in dark waves, and you resist the urge to push the strands back into place as he looks up at you with a triumphant grin. “There. All fixed… Now we just need to wrap them ‘round the tree.” 

Now it’s your turn to raise a brow. “I think I can manage that bit just fine.” You tease, taking the lights once more, knowing that it’d only end up messy if you let Darry help out.

It takes a little longer than you’d like to admit and a fair amount of frustration on your part to get everything perfectly in place, but soon enough, the tree is twinkling in the dim living room, decked out in ornaments and red ribbons. 

You smile proudly, taking a step back to admire your work, and Darry lets out a small huff of laughter, shaking his head. “We did pretty good, huh?” 

“Best job in town,” you respond, grinning at him before moving forward to wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest. He makes a soft noise in response, tilting his head down to plant a light kiss onto the crown of your head, holding you as close as humanly possible. You melt slightly against him, content to stand there for a while.

“Merry Christmas, Darry.” You whisper softly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. He doesn't reply right away, seeming to ponder something for a second before responding.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but it carries it’s usual warmth, and right there, under the glittering lights of the tree, you don’t think there’s anywhere else you’d rather be.

[thecreaturecodex]

Grýla

Image © "Evanatt", accessed at their Pillowfort here

[Part 2 of a three part series on Icelandic Christmas folklore, following the Yule Lads. Which means yes, a Yule Cat is forthcoming. Earlier Icelandic writings emphasized Gryla's monstrousness; there are versions where she has three heads and forty tails and forty sacks. I quite like this design as a compromise between some of her most extravagant forms, and just making her an ogre]

Grýla CR 16 CE Fey This huge ogress has a crown of horns and four eyes, two in the normal places, one on her forehead and one on the back of her head. She has cloven hooves and clawed hands, and fifteen tails which she keeps tied up in two bundles. She carries a large sack thrown over her shoulder.

Grýla is a fey troll, a vicious giant who devours children. She lairs in a lava tube among frozen volcanic mountains. She is happy to feed on wild game and the occasional traveler for most of the year, but ventures forth in the wintertime begging for food in civilization, disguised as an old woman. In said disguise, she often offers to “take care” of disobedient children, by which she means murdering them, stuffing them into her bag of holding, and returning to her lair to cook and eat them. Unsurprisingly, Grýla is used as a bogey in areas where she has roamed long after her own attention has gone elsewhere.

Grýla prefers to pick on creatures weaker than her. She uses her fey magic and mastery over stone to disorient and hinder opponents, winnowing them down so she can fight one at a time. If she is feeling playful, she will use her many tails to disarm, trip, blind and annoy opponents, but once playtime is over, she merely tears them apart with her hands like fresh bread. Grýla values her own life, and will flee if she feels overpowered by using long step to take cover, then distracting enemies with mislead or project image.

Unlike a number of other bogeys, Grýla is the matriarch of a whole clan. These are her Yule Lads, a gang of fey miscreants who harass towns and farms during the winter solstice. The Yule Lads are friendly to their mother, and treat her consumption of humanoid flesh as more of an uncouth habit than a horrific crime. Grýla is on her third husband (having killed and eaten the previous two); this is the ogre glutton Leppalúði. He is as lazy as he is ravenous, so is happy to have his wife be the primary provider for their household. Their pet is the Yule Cat, a monstrous feline that more closely resembles a domestic cat the size of an elephant than any lion or tiger. Like many cats, this beast roams free much of the time, but always comes back around the home for a good meal.

Grýla CR 16 XP 76,800 Variant fey creature mountain troll CE Huge fey (augmented humanoid, giant) Init +3; Senses all around vision, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, scent; Perception +24

Defense AC 30, touch 11, flat-footed 27 (+3 Dex, +19 natural, –2 size) hp 225 (18d8+144); regeneration 10 (acid or fire) Fort +18, Ref +9, Will +13; +4 vs. mind-influencing effects, +8 vs. charm and compulsion effects Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 27 Defensive Abilities rock catching, stubborn; Weaknesses vulnerable to sonic

Offense Speed 40 ft., burrow 10 ft., climb 40 ft., long step Melee bite +23 (2d10+12), 2 claws +23 (2d6+12), 2 tail slaps +21 (2d6+6 plus vexing blow) Ranged rock +15/+10/+5 (2d8+18) Space 15 ft., Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks rend (2 claws, 2d6+18), rock throwing (120 ft.) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 18th; concentration +21 [+25 casting defensively]) At will—stone shape 3/day—dancing lights, spike stones (DC 17), stone tell 1/day—confusion (DC 17), deep slumber (DC 16), earthquake (DC 21), entangle (DC 14), faerie fire, feeblemind (DC 18), flesh to stone (DC 19), glitterdust (DC 15), irresistible dance (DC 21), major image (DC 16), mislead (DC 19), project image (DC 20), summon monster VIII (earth elementals only)

Statistics Str 34, Dex 17, Con 25, Int 9, Wis 16, Cha 10 Base Atk +13; CMB +27; CMD 40 Feats Alertness, Combat Casting, Deadly Aim, Improved Vital Strike, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quick Draw (B), Toughness, Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +18 (+22 when jumping), Climb +30, Disguise +10, Intimidate +21, Perception +24, Sense Motive +22, Stealth +15; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception Languages Common, Giant, Sylvan SQ change shape (human or ogre, alter self or giant form I), rocky stride

Ecology Environment cold mountains Organization unique Treasure standard (bag of holding type IV, other treasure)

Special Abilities Long Step (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds, Gryla can teleport up to 180 feet as a move action. Rocky Stride (Ex) Grýla can move through any difficult terrain created by natural rock or stone without penalty. Spell-like Abilities Grýla uses her Wisdom modifier for the purposes of determining the DCs of her spell-like abilities and for concentration checks. Stubborn (Ex) A mountain troll gains a +4 racial bonus on all Will saving throws. In addition, if the troll fails a saving throw against a charm or compulsion effect, it can immediately attempt a second saving throw against the same effect on the next round to end the duration of the effect early. Vexing Blow (Ex) When Grýla hits an opponent with one of her tail slap attacks, she can make a disarm, trip or dirty trick maneuver against them as a free action without provoking attacks of opportunity. Grýla gains this ability and her tail slaps instead of a fly speed from the fey creature template.

[silylilyanimove]

I asked twitter users who would join me under the mistletoe. Here were their answers:

Galaco - She gave me her crown

Gumi - She thought it was a carrot but we kissed anyway

Gumi (Plushie) - Plushie kiss

CUL - Came out of her birthday cake for this

Fuiro - Fuiro...

Fuiro (again) - This time we weren't even under the mistletoe

Meiko - She took the crown

Cangqiong - Out from a magical mist, the butterfly appeared to kiss the bee.

Evil Lily - Uh...

Gumi (again) - Darn it, Gumi! I told you, the mistletoe isn't a carrot!

Oh well.

flower

Luka - Luka...

Ritsu

IA - Someone turned on the selep styled Christmas carols.

A Neru account asked to borrow my landline phone.

kokone

Minori

Madotsuki - Whoa, everything got creepy in here.

Gekiyaku - Had to make a summoning circle to get her here.

Me

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 1

Content warnings: suggestive and derogative language, reader being humiliated, mentions of panties and arousal

WC: 2.4k

You stared at the clock and huffed, it was 10 minutes past midnight. Your older brother Jaden and his best friend Anakin should’ve come home by now.

“Good night honey, don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep for the pageant tomorrow!” your mother cooed as she walked past your door, peering into your admittedly childishly decorated bedroom.

You had turned 19 last month but still hadn’t gotten over your fixation for all things pink and frilly, your walls adored with posters of your favourite singers and your bedsheets decorated with petite lace bows on every corner. You wrapped your satin bedrobe tight around yourself as you got up and headed downstairs to the lounge, where you’d spent many nights staring at the door waiting for your favourite boys to come home from their escapades.

Your gaze settled on a large framed photo of you resting on the mantlepiece, wearing a pageant crown and smiling gracefully. Sure, you were mommy and daddy’s pride and joy, the most beautiful girl in the county and latest winner of the teen Miss Naboo competition, but you were bored. A whole lifetime of always being the good girl had taken its toll and left you with a feeling of discontenment and envy. You saw the way other girls had fun, sneaking out at night and going to parties with handsome boys- Anakin always had a crowd of women swarming him and you hated that you felt jealous at the attention he gave them.

You knew ultimately you were above all that, you knew that you were saving yourself for a worthy man, one who would appreciate the efforts you made to keep yourself pure. But sometimes, when you saw the veins snaking their way down Ani’s arms, with his black band tees rolled up to his muscular elbows and his plump lips playing with his tongue piercing, you feared you might not be able to hold back much longer. As if your thoughts summoned him, the door swung open and the raucous laughter of the boys filled the stately family home.

“Did you see the way that chick was giving me fuck-me eyes? She totally wants it, I’ve got half a mind to - oh. Sis, what are you doing still up?” Jaden’s face fell as he hung his coat up.

“I was just making myself a cup of cocoa, trying to soothe my nerves for the competition tomorrow.” You lied. You couldn’t care less about the pageant and you didn’t even really like cocoa. You just wanted to be there to catch a glimpse of your favourite emo boy.

“Oh yeah, forgot that shit was tomorrow. Do I still have to drive you?” Jaden rolled his eyes, he never did understand the appeal of being paraded around like a prized pig.

“No, I presumed you’d be too inebriated from the night before so I asked daddy already.” You happily chittered, unconsciously raising your nightie just a little so that your brother’s friend might catch a better glimpse of your freshly moisturised, strawberry scented thighs. He didn’t pay it any notice as per usual, not that it stopped you from trying.

“Ah you know me too well.” Jaden chuckled “Good luck with that, let’s go Anakin.”

“Wait, wait! How was your night? Did you guys have fun?” You pouted, big doe eyes staring at them in disappointment to have not been filled in on their nighttime adventures.

“Oh you don’t wanna hear about that sweetheart” Ani finally spoke, smirking. “Your brother is quite the Cassanova.”

“That’s enough of that, off to bed with you” Jaden interrupted him, motioning for you to leave before slipping into the kitchen to help himself to the pot of fresh cocoa you’d made.

“You know, you look really creepy when you’re sat there like that right in front of the door. At least turn on a lamp or some shit.” Anakin uttered harshly, making your cheeks burn up with embarassment.

“Um, I, I’m sorry? I’ll make sure the place is lit up like a christmas tree next time.” You muttered, staring at the ground and silently cursing your obedient nature. God, he had a way of making you feel small. The slight smirk that creeped up on his face made you suspect that he liked that.

“Now that I think about it, why is it that you happen to be in the living room every time I come through the door? Do you wanna hang out with us that bad?” Anakin sniggered in that signature cocky way only he knows how.

“Oh shut up, I have better things to do than to sit around smoking joints with 2 college dropouts.” You rolled your eyes, was it that obvious? Clearly you would have to find a better cover than drinking hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, this cocoa tastes like shit. Are you sure you didn’t make it with mud?!” Jaden emerged from the kitchen sipping from his mug and scowling, eliciting a cackle from Anakin. “Don’t ever try cooking sis, stick to looking pretty in dresses.” he tousled your hair as he walked past you and up the stairs to his room. Anakin gave you one last look, subtly dropping his glare down to your legs before smiling ever so slightly as he followed his friend. The second of eye contact made your heart pound with a worrying intensity and you had to calm your racing mind before the inappropriate thoughts started forming again.

It had been a week since the last time the boys hung out, and in this moment you wished it’d been longer as you sat in bed, enveloped in your pink fluffy blanket - huffing at the sounds of Anakin and Jaden howling with laughter next door. What could possibly be so funny that it induces such animalistic noise? Once the guffawing was so loud that you could no longer hear your movie over it, you resolutely climbed out of bed, slid your slippers on and marched over to your brother’s room across the hallway. As soon as you opened the door, the pungent smell of their sweet, earthy joint hit you.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re laughing so hard.” You cross your arms at the sight of them convulsing with giggles. “Can you cretins keep it down?”

“Apologies, are we disturbing your Barbie movie marathon?” A very dishevelled looking Jaden grinned. “Or are you watching Enchanted again? How many times have I told you, stop dreaming about Prince Charming, he’s not coming.” You furrow your brows, about to launch a tirade on your brother when Anakin interjects.

“Oh my God, what are those?” he points at your slippers. “Are you wearing fluffy pink bunnies on your feet? Seriously?” He covers his mouth with his hand to stop the giggles that threaten to burst through. You stare down at the dopey faces of the little bunnies sticking out of your shoes.

“No! I mean yes but these are old, mom bought them for me, they were just lying around and I’m kinda cold.” The excuses started flowing out as Anakin glared at you endearingly.

“Oh my God, why are you lying? They’re her favourite ones, she wears them every day.” Jaden sniggers and you wonder why you even tried to lie with your brother there.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie sweetie, I think it’s cute. Pretty little pageant princess in her pink slippers.” Anakin smiles and you’re unsure whether he’s mocking you.

Feeling mortified, you run out and slam your bedroom door closed- a resounding bang being heard as the bedrobe and nightie that hung on the back fell off the hook and spilled onto the floor. For their information, you were watching a documentary. You know he dismissed you as nothing other than his friend’s childish little sister, just a brat who couldn’t ever keep up with him- he was 4 years older than you after all.

But you’re not a little girl anymore. Sure, your favourite colour was pink and you pranced around on stage in ballgowns, but you were a woman now. You had come into your own this year and you saw the whole world differently. You had never usually paid any mind to the boys that circulated around the house with your brother- but now they piqued your interest immensely, one in particular. You’ll never forget the first day you really noticed him.

It was last winter, you had gone to support your big brother at one of his hockey matches as you often loved doing. It was the semi-finals and he had led his team to a resounding victory as captain, rushing the barricades towards you and your parents, arms raised and fists curled in a triumphant dance that you mirrored. He engulfed you in a callous bear hug, easily enveloping you before clambering over to your parents. Over the broad shoulders of the players, you caught a glimpse of him.

His dark hair swooped messily over his forehead, thick eyebrows furrowed over his piercing blue eyes as he hung back from the rest of the team, choosing to avoid the adoring crowd and slip away into the changing rooms. You experienced a visceral response to seeing him in that oversized hockey jersey, so much so that you saw it in your dreams for the next month.

Suddenly, the unobtrusive guy who hung around your brother and occasionally teased you for the way you dressed became so much more than that. You felt on edge every time he came over, rushing over to your room to put on some lipgloss or change into a cuter dress before casually walking past the hallway a suspicious amount of times, hoping he would get a glimpse of you through the open crack in Jaden’s door. Luckily for you, your oaf of a brother never caught on, and if Anakin did, he never made it known.

Whilst reminiscing, you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ani’s sweet voice sounded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, we were just playing around.” You got up from your wallowing position in bed and straightened up like an arrow.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I wasn’t upset. I’m used to it.” You smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But thanks anyway.”

“I meant what I said. It’s good you have a strong identity, it’s what makes you you. You shouldn’t pay any mind to what others say, least of all me. I mean I’ve had plenty of choice comments about my look but I wouldn’t be Anakin without the piercings or the headphones or the bad attitude now, would I?” He leans on the doorframe and looks at you curiously. You have to take a deep breath to suppress a full body shiver, you don’t think you can take much longer of him staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“What’s all this- oh my“ he spots your nightie on the floor and picks it up. “Who are you trying to impress wearing this missy?” he closely inspects the white satin dress adorned with a lace trim, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“And this?” He picks up the scandalous red panties sprawled out next to his feet and observes them as they dangle off his finger.

“Anakin! Put those down!” You jolt up towards him in an attempt to frantically snatch them out of his hand but he simply holds them up in the air so that you can’t reach. You weren’t a short girl by any means but you felt like one next to Ani’s staggering height.

“Oh this is priceless, are you telling me you actually wear these around the house? Or is it to your pageants, do you have some kind of boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughs, clearly enjoying this abuse of power.

“No I don’t, not that it’s any of your business!” You huffed, slapping his chest in indignant frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty for yourself.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t believe you. Because these aren’t pretty panties, this is a very slutty thong. One that someone would only wear if they were expecting to get laid.” His raspy voice dropped in tone, like he was saying something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Are you trying to get laid?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips at the unexpected question. Suddenly you were aware of how close your face was to his and that both your hands were resting on his chest.

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” You muttered quietly, maintaining eye contact.

“Ah, who would’ve thought Jaden’s little sister would be such a slut. I bet daddy wouldn’t be happy to find out his little girl wears these.” He wraps his hand around the panties and subtly pockets them into his baggy black jeans.

“If I were really a slut then you’d be the first to know about it.” The words slipped out as you turned away from him.

“What?” He grabbed you by the wrist and turned you back around. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never even been with one guy, let alone enough to make me a slut.” You admitted coyly, regretting the words as soon as they came out.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” His gaze is so intense you worry your knees might buckle. “Something’s gonna have to be done about that.”

His fingers trace your collarbone as he takes one last look into your helpless eyes before turning around, smirking to himself as he leaves the room. You sigh a breath of relief at his absence, trying not to pay too much attention to the growing wetness between your thighs. This was not going to bode well for your vow of chastity.

Wait a minute, did he take your panties?

Next Chapter

[diaryofanobsessivefangirl]

My headcannon for Sareth is that Jareth has watched Sarah since she was 11 like a dark guardian angel and when she reaches adolescence, caring turns into love.

Her actress mother has an affair with another actor and their parents divorce. During that period, Sarah receives The Labyrinth book as a gift from a relative.

Jareth knows whenever a mortal speaks his name or title 'Goblin King' and sometimes ventures into the mortal world to observe them out of curiosity and boredom. Things might even develop into someone foolishly giving away their children - at least that would be interesting.

So when little Sarah role-plays the story for the first time, Jareth comes as owl to her bedroom window. At first he doesn't think much of her. She is not the first child to summon him, and he wonders would she make a fine goblin like others did.

The Goblin King watches long enough to see Sarah's family has been recently broken, and the mother she has idolized is out of the picture. The child seems to be coping with this sudden reality by escaping to her fantasies.

Shame, Jareth thinks, but such are mortal lives - subject to time, change and lost. He is flattered by the way the child speaks his name with such reverence, awe and fear though, so he decides to visit again, if the opportunity arrises.

The next visit is followed by the third, the fourth, and before he knows it becomes a regular occurrence. He is entertained by Sarah's vivid imagination, like Peter Pan was by Wendy's. Sometimes he sees her in the park gathering mushrooms for a fairy circle, sometimes she is at school (not completely lonely, but not popular among her peers either), but most times she is at home.

Once it was Christmas and her mother did not called. The owl watched the girl crying under the covers of her bed.

When her father found another mistress and wished for them to meet, a fight issued at the dinner table. She ran to her room and slammed the door behind her.

One nasty lad at school stole her notebook and ridiculed her drawings - castles, dragons, dwarves, and one particularly dark figure wearing a crown and an evil smile. Is that your boyfriend Sarah?, the boy mocked.

(Jareth watched motionlessly from a nearby tree. It was only at night that he also payed the boy a little visit. Something to awake his... imagination. The next day the lad had black spots below his eyes and shrieked when he saw Sarah. He moved to another school the next year)

Sometimes Sarah would fall asleep praying for someone who understood her to come, to take her away, far away from there. Jareth would then step into her bedroom and stand above the resting child. Gently he would lean forward and touch her forehead with his thumb, a warm pink light flowing out of his hand. Sarah would wake the next day feeling renewed after many pleasant dreams.

Take her away? Maybe. He has taken numerous children to increase his court, some from better backgrounds than hers, some less cooperative. All of them now without any recollection of who they once were, their parents (good or bad), nothing to make them sorrow or regret.

But turning Sarah into one of his dimwit goblins didn't sit quite right with him. If he had to imagine Sarah as anything under his domain, it wouldn't be as a goblin.

No, he decided, Sarah was a fairy. At first sight a delicate creature flying carefree - but like any small creature, ready to bite.

Sarah could be quite the brat when she stood up to her father, her teacher or a bully. Her bad behavior made him chuckle, as it looked so similar to his own. But below the immediate impression of a spoiled pre-teen running away from reality, Jareth saw a girl trying to remain hopeful and brave despite the turmoils of her young life.

So he remained close, finally having something to awake his curiosity and even sympathy after many centuries. He was there when she got a part at the school play, when she so seriously rehearsed her lines over and over again, trying hard to live by her mother's footsteeps. He was in the audience disguised as a mortal man the night of the presentation.

He was there when Sarah heard the news of her mother's car crash. And he was also there when her father announced he was engaged to his new mistress a couple of months latter.

[marypickfords]

The Stalls of Barchester (Lawrence Gordon Clark, 1971)

“James had a genius for imbuing objects from the past with implacable malignity. The bronze whistle in “Whistle and I’ll Come to You”, the Saxon Crown in “A Warning to the Curious”, the Mappa Mundi in “Mr. Humphry’s Inheritance” and so on. Hitchcock claimed that his “Macguffin” could be anything or nothing so long as people were prepared to kill for it, and perhaps that’s why some of his films are compelling but ultimately empty constructs. James’ objects are truly frightening because they resonate with our deepest and oldest fears about what lurks in the darkness outside the comfort and light of the tribal campfire. A whistle blown could summon who knows what fears, or perhaps a terrifying storm, a crown buried in a coastal barrow was a sacred guardian against invasion and to remove it earns the ultimate punishment, and when Haynes sits in the Archdeacon’s throne in the choir stalls for the first time he puts his hand on the carved figure of a crouching cat that adorns his armrest, and his fate is sealed.” — Lawrence Gordon Clark, quoted in Yuletide Terror: Christmas Horror on Film and Television (2017), edited by Kier-La Janisse.

[tsun-bun]

Decided to dip my toes back into writing and tumblr for @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Ikemen Advent event! Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Prompt: Woolen Clothes Just wholesome Black Army shenanigans! (+ a lil Red Army at the end) I wanted to write something cosy! No particular pairings or anything Word count: 996 ------------------------- Though cold winds blew outside, it was warm and lively as ever in the Black Army headquarters. It wasn’t yet Christmas day (weeks away, even), but nonetheless the officers and Alice had been summoned by Seth for “Santa Seth’s Super Special Gift Extravaganza ☆”.

“… Seth, your naming taste gets worse every year,” Luka remarked as they all made their way inside the lounge.

“Bah!!” Seth shook his head dramatically. “This is why I have to get you in the spirit of the season, Luka!!”

“What’s it even supposed to mean? Ya got us gifts already? Ain’t it a bit early?” Fenrir tilted his head, confused.

“That’s why it’s special ♪” Seth chirped. “Now, now, everyone, please sit.”

At his instruction, they all took their seats, some more begrudgingly than others. Without further ado, Seth clapped his hands together, and spun about to fetch the presents. With a flourish, he gave each of them their own neatly-wrapped box - complete with glittering bows and cute name tags, of course.

“Don’t open them just yet!” he tutted, mostly to Fenrir - whose fingers were already itching to unwrap his present as soon as it landed in his lap. Beside him, Ray lifted up his own, giving it a shake to try and puzzle out what was inside.

At last, after twirling around the room, Seth was left only with one present to hold: suspiciously, his own.

“Wow, you really went all out, Seth!” Alice exclaimed, admiring all the sparkles and decorations. Of course, he had added extra ribbons specially for her.

“Aahh I knew a sweet girl like yourself would appreciate good presentation!”

Sirius regarded the present with more skepticism. “Shall we open them now?”

“Don’t you need your reading glasses first, old man?~” Seth ignored Sirius’ warning glare. “Okayyy, everybody, you can open them!”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was that of torn wrapping paper: Fenrir eagerly digging out his present, Ray unable to quite contain a bit of childlike enthusiasm either, Sirius reluctantly (but nonetheless carefully) unfolding the paper, Alice teetering between excitement and worry as she tried not to ruin Seth’s hard work present-wrapping… while Luka unwrapped his with some sense of dread, as if something might leap out at him.

Soon, they had all opened the presents to reveal… Christmas sweaters. Though they were matching, they were all personalised to some degree: the wool dyed different colours and woven into festive patterns, alongside the more… unique choices, clearly willed into existence by Seth himself.

“Ta-daa!!” Seth triumphantly lifted his sweater up, his signature shade of green, patterned with cute little foxes in Santa hats. “Aren’t they just adorable?”

Sirius was the first to speak up. “Seth. What is this?”

His sweater proudly declared “Santa’s FAVOURITE DADDY”, decorated with silhouettes of his “children” - the Black Army brats and Chutney.

“Sirius, it’s fashionable for a refined older gentlemaaaaa–”

Seth flailed his arms as he ran away from Sirius, still clutching onto his sweater, its sleeves flailing around behind him.

“How many times do I have to tell you brats that I’m only 30?”

“I’m sorry, daddy Sirius~!” Seth called out as he wiggled away from the grumbling “old man”…

“Woah! Look, Ray, ours match!!” Fenrir excitedly held up his sweater against Ray’s - the Ace of Spades had a strange combination of dogs and guns. Even dogs WITH guns. Ray’s had a variety of kitty cats in regal poses, wearing crowns and capes fit for a King.

“… Not bad,” Ray decided with a smile, quietly satisfied to match with his bro.

Having escaped Sirius (for now), Seth nodded enthusiastically at them. “Right?! I thought we could all wear matching sweaters for Christmas day! Aren’t they sooo cute?”

“… Seth,” Luka spoke without looking up from his sweater.

“Yesss, darling angel?” Seth gazed down at him, eyes glittering with hope.

“Can I give mine back?” Luka casually destroyed that hope.

Seth looked appalled, wailing. “Nooo!! How could you say that?!”

“Luka, you have to admit, it is very cute…” Alice gently nudged him, a gleam in her eyes as if she was already picturing him in it.

It was alarmingly cute. With chubby-cheeked hamsters and angels, hamster angels even, with halos and wings, the wool all soft pastel colours.

“That’s the problem, Alice. And matching sweaters… aren’t we too old for this? It’s cheesy.” Luka pouted.

“But it’s perfect for the angel of the Black Army!” Seth chimed in.

“Please stop calling me that…” Luka muttered, blushing already as he imagined the future fawning he’d be subject to.

“Hmmm… I don’t know, I think it’s a sweet tradition,” Alice joked, showing off her own sweater, decorated with all the cute little candies and desserts she made and enjoyed in Cradle.

Ray reached over to ruffle Alice’s hair with a grin. “Just perfect for our resident sweets-lover, huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes with fond exasperation before suggesting: “Well, if it’ll make the little lady happy…”

Luka sighed, relenting. “I guess I can wear it for one day…”

Seth brightened up immediately, pulling them both into a hug. “Yippee! We’ll be one big, festive family! ♡”

—

A few days later, somewhere in Red Territory, Edgar struck up a conversation…

“Have you heard from Luka recently?”

“Hmph, of course!!” Jonah replied, offended to even be asked. “I have to be well-informed to pick out the perfect gift for my dear baby brother.”

Edgar smiled so innocently that it could only mean he was about to say something very, very devious. “Why, then you’ve surely heard the Black Army officers are wearing matching sweaters this year–”

The sentence was barely out of his mouth before Jonah stormed off to go... shopping?

“Geez… how’s he planning to match without even seeing ‘em?” Kyle rubbed at the back of his neck, watching Jonah zoom off into the distance.

Edgar smiled enigmatically. “Oh, that’s half the fun of it.”

“Huh. Well, he’d better not come back with embarrassing sweaters for all of us…”

[quinloki]

WIP game!

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

〰 〰 〰

Thanks for the tag @shaanks \o/ I'mma try not to tag any of the same folks you did, to make sure and spread this around, wish my luck y'all

/hides face/ all your wips huh... 😳K. I'll just stick with what I'm actively working on, not the ones I tucked into hiatus so I could breathe a little easier. (NONE of these are SFW).

A Truly Mythological Christmas - Marco x Reader Hallmark AU - part of my 100k writing challenge for this month. Uses a lot of Hallmark style movie tropes, but also turns them on their head too.

Starling - Crocodile x Reader Omegaverse yandere multi-ending short story that became an unplanned part of my writing challenge this month ^^;

The Dragon's Clause - Sabo x Reader Fantasy AU where Sabo's the "grand duke" of the Gao Kingdom. He's friends with the Dawn Kingdom's newly crowned prince Ace, (and second prince Luffy)

Hey Doll - Thatch x Reader Government Mandated Marriage AU.

Heart of Gold - Law x Reader - The Grandline Metro AU, the last of the first four books for the series.

Just Like Fire - Ace x Reader - Modern AU where the reader is Sabo's sister. People are "cursed" vs having DF, and Ace is a fire fighter ^_^ Just 2 more chapters to go, I'm hoping to wrap it up before end of January 2025

By Any Other Name - Host Club AU - multi-series. The main story line will shatter into different endings like an otome game.

Souled Out - Demon!Eustass x Reader - You've lost your soul and summoned a demon to help. He has an appetite unrelated to your soul.

Hat Trick - (ah ha, oops, don't have this on Ao3... ) Law/Reader/Kid - Modern AU where polycule saves the day.

Passing Fascination - Yandere!Eustass x Reader - slow going, but canon-style AU where Eustass decides you might be the only One Piece he needs - whether you want him or not.

Honeysuckle: Red - Vampire AU I've been world-building. The Honeysuckle series will cover quite a few blorbos, but :Red is Eustass Kid x Reader.

Whew.

OH! and uh... The Pact ^^; Which is my OC Quill, and my friend's OC Lil' and it's a Quill x Marco (but I am oddly EXTREMELY shy about sharing it.)

Tagging: @lyndsyh24, @hannahbarberra162, @fanaticsnail, @mamaalpha, @cebwrites, @cyborg-franky

@theaceofflamesposts, @sanjis-all-blue, @leftsidebonfire, @mydisenchantedeulogy, @thus-spoke-lo, @vegalustirra

And anyone so inclined to join in can consider this an open invite \o/

[nolhann]

Bleach Brave Soul Christmas Special 2023 : Christmas Crown Summons | Artworks

Merry Christmas ! 🎄

[optimisticgrey]

I am riding this wave as long as it lasts.

(Or my christmas break starts but that doesn't mean I stop writing)

I am overwhelmed, overworked and stress usually manifests in hyperfocus (Hi Gale!) and emotional drama for me. (There is only so much one can work out) So here is a tearful, useless dramatic piece of made up heartbreak.

You are everything

Pairing: Named Tav (Celeste), Halsin, Gale; Jenevelle/Shadowheart mentioned

WC: 3660

Warnings: Heartbreak. Drama. Tears.

Summary: After the battle for Baldur's Gate, Gale decides to leave Celeste and return to Waterdeep, instead of chosing her and Halsin in Reithwin.

Read on AO3

Looking back, Celeste could scarcely piece together how it had all unraveled.

One moment, they were celebrating in Baldur’s Gate, the air thick with triumph and relief. The Netherbrain was defeated. Gale, victorious and brimming with hope and determination, had salvaged the Crown and was preparing to deliver it to Mystra. All that remained was her summons, and then, at last, the orb would be gone, and he would be free.

They had loved each other with a fervour that felt almost otherworldly, each embrace more magical than the last. Gale had been surfing a wave of elation, the promise of freedom so tantalizingly close. For a brief time, their future had seemed as bright as the Weave itself.

But then came the morning that shattered everything.

As they packed to depart for Reithwin, Gale announced his decision. He was returning to Waterdeep. Alone.

Celeste tried to understand. To reason with him. To ask. To talk. To beg.

But none of it mattered. Gale walked away.

After that, her memories became a fragmented haze, blurred at the edges and distant, as though they belonged to someone else entirely. She could recall only glimpses: Halsin and Jenevelle waiting for her, Scratch barking and bounding with joy, the cheers of refugees welcoming her to join them.

And then, her own voice, hollow and detached, as if spoken by a stranger, saying, “Gale is going to Waterdeep.”

The journey to Reithwin was marked by moments that passed in a haze. There were battles, of course. Scattered goblin raiders and scavengers testing the caravan’s defenses. For brief moments, the thrill of combat gave her purpose, a fleeting reprieve from the void that had swallowed her. She fought for others now, not for herself, and for those precious seconds of struggle, she felt almost whole. But the adrenaline always ebbed, and the weight of her loss would creep back in, heavier and more consuming with each passing day.

It was as if her body moved through the world, but her spirit lingered somewhere else; caught in the pieces of a shattered past she couldn’t make whole.

When they finally reached Reithwin, the sight of it struck her as cruelly beautiful. The Shadow Curse lifted, the land was lush and fertile, full of potential. The ruins begged to be rebuilt, the soil ready to nurture life again. It was a place that promised healing, but Celeste felt only the ache of emptiness as they began to shape a new home.

Halsin, of course, was in his element. Leadership through kindness came naturally to him, and under his care, the community blossomed. He chose his role with intent, not because it was thrust upon him by fate, and the people adored him for it. It was impossible not to. Halsin inspired hope with his vision, steadied his people with his wisdom, and guided them with an open heart. The children adjusted quickly to their new lives. Until their own homes could be built, everyone old enough made do with structures sturdy enough to keep out the rain, prioritizing to build a proper shelter for the youngest among them. A former hospital was chosen for the children’s quarters. The rooms already spacious and practical. The children eagerly pitched in, their excitement transforming the task into an adventure as they scrubbed walls, painted, and helped wherever they could.

Each night, Halsin would tuck them in one by one, his presence a comforting constant before he shared his brilliant stories. His deep, soothing voice brought tales of the wilds, Nature’s grace and daring adventures to life, lulling the children into peaceful dreams.

Celeste often joined him, though they had agreed her illusory magic and songs would be reserved for special occasions. Her performances, when given, became moments of wonder as magical interludes that the children would talk about for days. Watching Halsin with the children, Celeste couldn’t help but feel her heart swell. Here, in this haven they were building together, she saw the best parts of him shine. It reminded her of what they had worked so hard to create: a home, a future, and hope.

She did her best to support him in everything. If she felt anything during those early days, it was gratitude for Halsin’s presence and love for the quiet strength he offered. He never pressed her to talk about the pain she carried, never pushed her beyond what she could bear. He simply held her when her grief overwhelmed her, his arms a sanctuary on countless nights when her sorrow became too much. His reassurances were soft, his patience unyielding. Not once did he grow weary of her sadness.

When Celeste began apologizing for her burden, Halsin would only chuckle and draw her closer, his deep voice warm with affection. “I will stay by your side for as long as you wish me there, my heart,” he would say gently. “Through light days and dark ones alike.”

For Halsin, this was a time of fulfillment. Pride radiated from him as he watched the settlement take shape, as families found security and children laughed freely in the streets. He rebuilt a cabin just for them on the settlement’s outskirts, just within the protective borders he had established. It was close to the tree line where Thaniel and Oliver preferred to appear. The house was modest but perfect, just big enough for the two of them, with room for an occasional guest. He even designed their bed with care, close to the floor. He layered it with furs to ensure it was warm and comfortable enough for Celeste through the colder months.

Celeste filled the small garden with life, including a family of ducks she’d found wandering the ruins of the village. When she brought them home, Halsin’s laughter was deep and unrestrained, a rare sound that briefly chased away her sadness. These small joys sustained her, even as her heart remained heavy.

Jenevelle found her place among the farmers, reclaiming a cottage with her parents. Celeste hadn’t imagined her thriving in the company of so many animals, but Jenevelle took in every stray she encountered, nursing them back to health. Some stayed, others left, but she cherished each one.

Celeste grew close to Jenevelle’s father, Arnell, a devoted Selûnite and a skilled cook. He often invited her and Halsin for late-night suppers, serving hearty meals that warmed more than just their bellies. Though Jen’s mother, Emmeline, still suffered from their years of confinement, she shone under the gentle care of her husband and daughter.

The settlement flourished, drawing the attention of traveling merchants who admired the quality of their products and craftsmanship. Among them was a gnome named Nuram, who eventually decided to stay. With a sharp mind for trade and numbers, Nuram quickly became indispensable, taking over much of the community’s logistical burden. His meticulous record-keeping and cheerful demeanour lifted weight from both Celeste and Halsin’s shoulders.

Celeste found purpose in training the settlement’s volunteers, teaching them to wield swords, bows, or simple spells. The effort gave her a sense of contribution, a distraction from the truths she couldn’t change. She supported Halsin in his administrative duties and took every opportunity to be near him, drawing strength from his steady presence. In quieter moments, she wrote songs but hated them all. Melancholic ballads of loss and resilience that shifted to lighter melodies at the bonfires when the children demanded it. To her surprise, most of her new found friends loved them.

But the void Gale had left remained. It was inescapable.

The first time she truly broke was when they pried open the old library doors. Thousands of books, untouched for over a century, lay beneath layers of dust, waiting to be discovered. Celeste realized how she and Gale would have spent weeks—months—here together, cataloguing, reading, sharing their excitement over every find. The thought brought her to her knees, and she wept uncontrollably. Halsin had to be fetched to collect and soothe her.

The realization struck her harder that day than it had any other. Gale hadn’t come. He hadn’t changed his mind. He was still lost to her.

His letters, formal and polite, read like correspondence from a distant acquaintance, not the man who had once called her his everything. Each word felt like a blade, sharp and impersonal, cutting through the memories she clung to so tightly.

She replayed their last days together endlessly, searching for answers in every glance, every word exchanged, every tender moment they’d shared.

What had changed? What had she missed? What had she done wrong?

Her thoughts always circled back to Mystra’s summons. Something must have happened during that encounter. Something he wasn’t telling her. She was certain of it.

When he announced his decision to leave, the orb was gone. The faint, ominous lines etched into his neck and beneath his eye had vanished, leaving his skin unmarked. It should have been a moment of triumph, the culmination of their long, painful journey. Yet Gale had seemed uneasy, distant. His smile never quite reached his eyes.

Was it the weight of the choice he had made, or something more?

He had spoken of returning to Waterdeep as though it were an obligation rather than a desire. His reasoning felt incomplete, his answers brief and unsatisfying. And though Celeste pressed him, though she begged for clarity, he offered none.

Then, he had spoken of Halsin, forcing her to choose in a way that felt utterly unlike him. Gale had never done that before. Though he hadn’t always been comfortable with the way she expressed her love freely in r affectionate hugs or what he considered unrestrained closeness with others, he had come to accept it. At first, there had been days of quiet pouting, but never anything as cruel as an ultimatum.

Her love for Halsin had never diminished her love for Gale, just as her deep friendships with the other hadn’t changed anything between them. Gale had struggled with it, certainly. They had argued, sometimes bitterly, over his insecurities and fears. But when Celeste refused to back down, he had eventually agreed to listen and talk.

It hadn’t been an easy path. His discomfort lingered, his questions sharp and frequent. But Celeste had been patient, guiding him into her world. A world where love was neither finite nor confined.

To her surprise, Jenevelle and Astarion had been crucial in helping him adjust. While they didn’t fully share her views, their gentle reassurances and insights had gone a long way in soothing Gale’s nerves.

It had taken months of difficult conversations, misunderstandings, and slow progress. A delicate dance of testing boundaries and building trust to the foundation he needed. But in the end, Gale had understood. He had accepted that her love wasn’t something to possess or control. It was something she offered freely.

So why had he suddenly demanded the impossible? Why had he tried to turn her love for Halsin into a wedge between them?

She was certain the reason lay elsewhere. Or was this another lie she couldn’t unravel?

No matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, she couldn’t piece together the truth. What had Mystra said to him? What had changed that morning?

Whatever it was, it felt like the exact moment everything she held dear began to unravel.

The questions circled her mind like spectres, haunting her thoughts day and night. But no matter how many times she searched, the answers eluded her, slipping through her grasp like sand through her fingers.

When the invitation to their reunion arrived, Celeste hesitated, her fingers tightening around the parchment. Six months had passed since that fateful day, but the pain still lingered, fresh and raw as if no time had passed at all. The thought of seeing him again, of sharing the same space, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

She didn’t want to go. Though she still saw most of their friends regularly, this night would be different. It would be special, an evening meant for celebration and nostalgia, and she feared it might be too much to bear.

It was Halsin who convinced her, his warm, reassuring presence easing some of her trepidation. He had smiled gently, taking her hands in his as he promised a night of joy and camaraderie. “You’ll be among those who love you,” he’d said. “Those who miss you and will be delighted to see you.”

His voice carried a quiet certainty that she had come to rely on, and though the ache in her heart remained, she found herself nodding. For her friends, for the chance to feel a fleeting spark of connection, she agreed. With Halsin by her side, she hoped she could face whatever awaited her that night.

At the reunion, Celeste kept her distance from Gale, weaving through the gathering with a deliberate avoidance that only a few close friends might have noticed. He was as effortlessly charming as ever, his words flowing like honey as he mingled, eager to reconnect. He approached her more than once, his tone warm, his smile easy—so much so that it nearly broke her. He acted as though nothing had happened, as though the vast oceans of hurt and the mountain of unspoken words between them didn’t exist.

When he offered her a place to stay in Waterdeep, his voice soft with sincerity, she declined with a polite smile, her heart shattering under the weight of his casual generosity. She barely managed to hold back tears as she turned away.

Gale had moved on, it seemed. He had stepped into a new chapter of his life, becoming a professor. Leaving her behind like a memory he had folded away into a corner of his mind.

Celeste, however, wasn’t sure she ever could. Though she worked tirelessly to build something new, though she tried to fill her days with purpose and her nights with the warmth of Halsin’s embrace, the ache in her heart never truly faded. It gnawed at her, a quiet, relentless reminder of what she had lost.

Some wounds, she realized, don’t heal. They merely become a part of you, woven into the fabric of your being.

The first night back home was nothing short of enchanting. The children had been ecstatic, their excitement palpable as they gathered around the owlbear. The young druids and budding sorcerers, already skilled in communicating with animals, were nearly beside themselves as they bombarded Celeste with questions. She responded patiently, explaining the ground rules with a steady voice while the owlbear curiously took in its new surroundings.

Halsin stood in the background, his warm smile a reassuring presence as Celeste laid out her plan. The owlbear would reside in one of the old cellars for the time being, a quiet and secure place where it could hibernate undisturbed. The children were allowed to visit, even pet the creature, but only under strict supervision until it would wake in the spring. The joy on their faces made the effort worthwhile.

Scratch could have not been happier. Overwhelmed with joy at reuniting with his brother, the loyal dog spent the entire night curled up next to the owlbear, his tail wagging incessantly. When Scratch eventually decided to sleep by its side, Halsin let out a deep, hearty laugh, the sound filling the room with warmth.

Later that evening, Halsin entered their bedroom, entirely at ease in his natural state. His footsteps were soft, his presence unassuming but comforting. Though his smile remained steady, Celeste could see the exhaustion etched into his features. Without hesitation, she lifted the blankets, welcoming him into bed.

Halsin scooped her into his arms, his embrace solid and grounding as he pulled her close. One of his legs shifted over her hip, his foot gently hooking around her legs to close any remaining distance between them.

“You did well, my heart,” he whispered, his words warm and tender after a series of lingering kisses.

“How so?” she murmured, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“Seeing Gale,” Halsin said softly. “I could feel the tension in you, sense the fear that lingered beneath it. I worried you might let your temper get the better of you.”

“But I didn’t,” she replied, her voice calm yet resolute, a quiet finality to her words.

Halsin nodded, recognizing the dismissal in her tone. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and tightened his arms around her, silently promising to share her burdens as long as she allowed him.

The days grew shorter, the nights colder, as the first frost began to settle over the village. The last of the year’s harvest was brought in, and for a community in its infancy, it was a resounding success. Celeste took charge of organizing the preservation of the surplus, to ensure nothing would go to waste.

But as the seasons shifted, so did Halsin. Celeste noticed the subtle changes first. He went to bed earlier, his steps grew heavier, and he yawned more frequently. His boundless energy, so characteristic of him, seemed to wane with the fading sunlight.

One evening, as they settled in for the night, she finally broached the subject. “Have you considered hibernation, my heart?”

Halsin smiled at her, his eyes sparkling despite the fatigue. “I thank you, duckling, for your nurturing heart,” he said, his tone as warm as ever. “I do not require a deep slumber, merely a touch more time to restore my spirit. And, if I’m not mistaken, you seem quite content lingering in this cozy sanctuary...” His teasing words were accompanied by a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Celeste chuckled, wrapping herself around him as they nestled beneath the blankets. She peppered his chest and neck with soft kisses, her affection unrestrained.

“There can never be too much cuddling,” she murmured with a smile.

Halsin let out a deep, rumbling laugh, pulling her closer. “Then let us make the most of these longer nights together,” he whispered. “For if there is one thing I need as much as rest, it is you.”

Despite Halsin’s steady presence, Celeste could not shake the weight of her sadness. She had believed, naively, that time would heal the wounds left by Gale’s departure. That the pain would fade, like a scar that softens over time. But it didn’t.

She threw herself into her work, keeping her hands and mind occupied, yet the emptiness lingered like a shadow.

Her daily walk to the library, where she spent her winter days teaching children and some adults to read and cataloging books, felt heavier with each passing morning. The familiar scents of parchment, ink, and dust cut through her like a knife every day.

Rainy days were the hardest.

The way the rain distorted the world around her, blurring shapes and shifting shadows, played cruel tricks on her mind. It teased her with the impossible, making her believe she saw him—in the face of a passing neighbor, in the fleeting silhouette at the edge of her vision. Her heart would leap, her breath catching in her throat, but every time she turned, he was never there.

She had never thought Gale capable of abandoning her so completely. She had never imagined him a coward. If anything, he had always been the opposite. A man of unyielding courage and intellect, steadfast in the face of unimaginable dangers. And yet, here she was, questioning everything she thought she knew about him. Perhaps she hadn’t known him at all.

After a particularly long day, Celeste realized she had missed dinner entirely. She had gotten lost in a book about wood elven customs, her curiosity about Halsin’s heritage pulling her deeper into its pages.

Halsin, ever attentive, had sent one of the older children to fetch her. The message was simple: come home immediately. He would have a bath prepared, a massage with his warm, steady hands, and leftovers waiting for her.

The thought brought a small, bittersweet smile to her lips, though regret lingered in her chest. Halsin didn’t deserve this. This version of her that felt broken, somehow less than what she once was. And yet, he treated her as if she were whole, his patience, love and kindness unwavering.

Pulling up the hood of her coat, she stepped into the cold rain, the icy droplets stinging as they seeped through the fabric. The downpour was relentless. The chill gnawed at her, creeping under her layers of her clothes and settling deep in her bones. Snow was close, she could feel its promise in the biting air.

By the time she reached their small home, the settlement was quiet. The children were tucked into bed, their laughter silenced after another of Halsin’s intricate bedtime stories. Most of the adults were gathered around the community fire, sharing stories and companionship in the warmth.

Celeste entered their home, stripping off her boots and coat, her heart warming at the sight of the familiar space. “Big bear? Is the bath ready? I’m frozen to my core...” she called out, as she entered the main room, lifting her wet tunic halfway over her head.

But she stopped mid-motion, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the kitchen nook, Halsin was handing a cup of tea to a man seated at their table.

Gale.

His weak smile met her stunned gaze, the room thick with tension.

“Your bath awaits, duckling,” Halsin said gently, his voice calm and measured despite the palpable strain. “Would you care for something to eat as well?”

Celeste’s eyes darted between Halsin and Gale, her shock giving way to a surge of emotion. “No,” she said sharply. “I want to know what the Hells is going on here.”

[desultory-novice]

"...Anybody there?"

I really liked this thought that crossed my feed a little bit ago...

It can be a hard to characterize Marx because we don't see him on screen doing all that much. But if you stop and consider what he's like during the Marx Soul battle (vicious, crazy, frightening...given the graphical limitations of the times) and realize what we're seeing there is the WORST Marx can ever be and work backwards from that...

...you realize maybe he really IS just a little guy. Just a funny little fellow who likes his japes and jests. Quite possibly he never was a threat to anyone before he got on that idea of summoning a Nova.

This whole train of thought stemmed from the Christmas pic where he is dutifully (dizzyingly) making cakes on Christmas to make up for the prank he and Magolor attempted. Like, Marx, paying for his actions? Without trying to fight his way out of it?

You know me: I believe evidence suggests that all Ancient Artifacts have some kind of powerful mental sway on everyone that isn't implied to be a member of Kirby's species and I'm just wondering if Marx's true nature is and always was to be a harmless prankster when he's not under the corruptive sway of the power cosmic.

The reason we never heard of him before Milky Way Wishes is he'd never done anything that bad or noteworthy to gain a negative reputation for himself. As to why he's much more of a gremlin after the fact? Well, I'd argue that if you look at Magolor, that kind of experience seems to have lingering mental effects on you. Unless Magolor wanted to uh, take over the world with Deadly Needles even before he came in contact with the Master Crown?

(Who am I to judge?!)

[The Japanese is phrased less like he wants to use it for terraforming for his park and more like he just really wants to fill the land with spikes. Again, not judging!]

...But yes, in addition to being able to imagine all the wonderful, long-lasting psychological damage contact with an Ancient Artifact did to Marx, you could also use this potential characterization avenue to make Mark Soul something really, truly frightening!

(Again, I'm very fond of the interpretation of Marx Soul's birth - and stop worrying about "canon," we have canon alternate timelines now!! - having a lasting affect on Marx in the form of becoming his negative intrusive thoughts made manifest; whispering in his ear, a voice that no one can hear, a face that no one can see...)

[thecreaturecodex]

Rakshasa Immortal, Korittunni

“The Mouse King” © deviantArt user MalakiaLaGatta, accessed at her gallery here

[”The Nutcracker and the Mouse King” by ETA Hoffmann is much darker and weirder than the more famous ballet it inspired. It’s mostly to do with the machinations between rival magical kingdoms and the Mouse King’s extortion racket for Christmas presents. As opposed to the ballet, which is fully half plotless dances based on ethnic stereotypes. I do enjoy Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, but let’s be honest. The Mouse King in the story is much more monstrous, having seven heads. For practical reasons, this is usually dropped from adaptations. A Soviet animated version compromised with three heads, and designs with that number are much more common than the full set.

The character has no name in the original story, just a title. We do get his mother’s name: Mouserinks. She’s the one who cursed the prince into being a nutcracker in the first place, and the Mouse King is hunting him to prevent him from turning back. My name for the character is derived from a Tamil word meaning rat or mouse. Since I’m making him a rakshasa, and different adaptations vary in what species he’s supposed to be, I figured that it was appropriate. The flavor text may draw some inspiration from the recent OGL unpleasantness.]

Rakshasa Immortal, Korittunni The Mouse King, The Rat King Concerns greed, gluttony, rodents Domains Animal, Evil, Law, Trickery Subdomains Fear, Fur, Greed, Tyranny Worshipers evil ratfolk, extortionists, misers, wererats Minions rakshasas, rat kings, swarms Unholy Symbol seven crowns stacked in a triangle Favored Weapon rapier Obedience gorge yourself on fine food and drink for 1 hour. Despoil any leftovers so no one else may benefit from them. Gain a +4 profane bonus on saves against disease Boons 1: summon swarm 2/day; 2: hunger for flesh 2/day; 3: heroes’ feast 2/day

Rakshasa Immortal, Korittunni CR 21 LE Outsider (native) This humanoid stands smaller than a human and has seven rodent heads, arrayed facing in all directions. They are clad in a fancy military dress uniform, carry a fine saber, and wear a crown on each of their heads.

Korittunni the Mouse King is one of the least of the rakshasa immortals, but that does not make him any less dangerous or destructive. He is obsessed with things: taking them from other people and destroying them if he cannot take them. No object is below his acquisitiveness; he enjoys stealing toys and candy from children as much as he does jewels or magical items from the wealthy and powerful. He rarely works alone, and surrounds himself with sycophantic ratfolk, ver, wererats and other rodent-like humanoids. Most of his elite agents are other rakshasas, typically with rodent features in their natural form.

Korittunni often is the one to initiate hostilities, but if he can take what he wants through intimidation, trickery or mind-controlling magic, he does so before fighting. His teeth are strong and powerful, but he usually fights with a dueling sword. He is a master of bardic magic, weaving spells and magical dance together in order to augment his own abilities and those of any of his minions. Korittunni often leaves his victims alive but humiliated, cursed or polymorphed, as a warning to others who would cross him.

The Mouse King’s kingdom is a vast subterranean city, from which he plots robbery and extortion. Many criminal gangs pay him protection money, and in turn he helps to supply them with tools and talent from his own reserves. And doesn’t just wipe them out and steal from them. Korittunni is a dangerous partner, however, as he will often make the terms and conditions of his deals more and more restrictive, until his allies are little more than slaves. He can be charming when he wants to, but his default mode of expression is to threaten and bully. He is something of a mama’s boy and speaks fondly of his own mother, although whether she actually literally existed as he describes, or is a composite character based on dozens of reincarnations, is mysterious.

Korittunni is only two feet tall, but no less dangerous for his size. He always carries a magic rapier capable of stealing magical defenses and a rod of splendor.

Korittunni           CR 21 XP 409,600 LE Small outsider (native, rakshasa) Init +14; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +29, scent Defense AC 38, touch 22, flat-footed 27 (+1 size, +10 Dex, +1 dodge, +14 natural) hp 420 (29d10+261) Fort +17, Ref +26, Will +22 DR 20/epic and piercing; Immune death effects, disease, petrifaction, poison, polymorph; Resist acid 20, cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20, sonic 20; SR 36 Defensive Abilities all-around vision, evasion Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 20 ft. Melee +3 spellstealing rapier +43/+38/+33/+28 (1d4+9/15-20), 7 bites +35 (1d4+3) or 7 bites +40 (1d4+6) Special Attacks bardic performance (59 rounds/day, swift action, countersong, deadly performance, dirge of doom, distraction, fascinate, frightening tune, inspire competence +6, inspire courage +4, inspire greatness, inspire heroics, soothing performance, suggestion), detect thoughts (DC 35), voracious Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +31 (+35 casting defensively) At will—bestow curse (DC 25), contagion (DC 25) 3/day—greater command (DC 26), greater teleport, nightmare (DC 26), quickened phobia (DC 27), ravenous rodents 1/day—demand (DC 29), mass hunger for flesh (DC 28), polymorph any object (DC 29), prediction of failure (DC 29) Spells CL 20th, concentration +31 (+35 casting defensively) 6th (7/day)—mass cat’s grace, mass cure moderate wounds (DC 27), greater scrying (DC 27), irresistible dance (DC 29), pied piping (DC 29) 5th (7/day)—cloak of dreams (DC 28), greater dispel magic, mind fog (DC 28), nightmare (DC 28), seeming (DC 26) 4th (7/day)—dominate person (DC 27), freedom of movement, hold monster (DC 27), legend lore, pessimism (DC 27), sleepwalking suggestion (DC 27) 3rd (7/day)—cure serious wounds (DC 24), fear (DC 24), glibness, haste, mass feather step, sculpt sound 2nd (8/day)—blur, gallant inspiration, heroism, invisibility, quick change, silence (DC 22) 1st (8/day)— charm person (DC 24), comprehend languages, cure light wounds (DC 22), identify, saving finale, undetectable alignment 0th—detect magic, ghost sound (DC 21), light, lullaby (DC 23), prestidigitation, read magic Statistics Str 23, Dex 31, Con 28, Int 25, Wis 22, Cha 32 Base Atk +29; CMB +34; CMD 55 Feats Combat Casting, Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Extra Performance, Greater Spell Focus (enchantment), Improved Critical (rapier), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Mobility, Quicken SLA (phobia), Spell Focus (enchantment), Spring Attack, Step Up, Whirlwind Attack Skills Acrobatics +31, Appraise +25, Bluff +36, Climb +32, Diplomacy +18, Disguise +40, Escape Artist +31, Intimidate +29, Knowledge (arcana, engineering, dungeoneering, local) +25,  Knowledge (planes) +27, Perception +29, Perform (act, dance) +32, Sense Motive +27, Spellcraft +25, Stealth +35, Swim +24, Use Magic Device +29; Racial Modifiers +4 Bluff, +8 Disguise, +2 Perception Languages Common, Goblin, Infernal, Senzar, telepathy 300 ft. SQ change shape (humanoid or rodent, polymorph), rakshasa lord traits Ecology Environment urban and underground Organization unique Treasure triple standard (rod of splendor, +3 spellstealing rapier, other treasure) Special Abilities Bardic Performance (Su/Sp) Korittunni can use bardic performances as a 20th level bard. Rakshasa Immortal Trait (Ex/Su) Korittunni is a rakshasa immortal, a powerful unique outsider capable of granting spells. This also grants him the following abilities

Immunity to death effects, disease and poison

Resist acid, cold, electricity, fire and sonic 20

DR/epic

Telepathy 300 ft.

Korittunni’s natural weapons, as well as any weapons he wields, are treated as epic, lawful and evil for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction.

Ravenous Rodents (Sp) This spell functions as a creeping doom spell, except that the swarms summoned appear as rats and mice. The swarms have the animal type instead of the vermin type, and do not have the poison special attack. Instead, they gain the voracious ability (see below) and deal damage to unattended objects in their area as well. This is the equivalent of a 7th level spell. Spells Korittunni casts spells as a 20th level bard. Voracious (Ex) Korittunni’s bite attacks deal double damage to creatures with the plant subtype, and to objects made out of plant materials such as paper, wood and most cloth.

[merymoonbeam]

The Morrigan Part II.

This is a continuation of my post The Morrigan. In that post I talked about how Mor could be the High Queen. In this post we are gonna talk about her connection to Wild Hunt.

I went to look a the Morrigan's wiki page and found this.

It has also been suggested that she was closely linked to the fianna, and that these groups may have been in some way dedicated to her. These were "bands of youthful warrior-hunters, living on the borders of civilized society and indulging in lawless activities for a time before inheriting property and taking their places as members of settled, landed communities." If true, her worship may have resembled that of Perchta groups in Germanic areas.

we are gonna talk about two things in here -- Fianna and Perchta.

Fianna:

while I was writing my Wild Hunt post I found out that Fionn and Fianna are the wild hunt in Ireland.

and We have a Fionn in Acotar.

Rhys’s eyes flicked to Ataraxia, then to Cassian. “Some strains of the mythology claim that one of the Fae heroes who rose up to overthrow them was Fionn, who was given the great sword Gwydion by the High Priestess Oleanna, who had dipped it into the Cauldron itself. Fionn and Gwydion overthrew the Daglan. A millennium of peace followed, and the lands were divided into rough territories that were the precursors to the courts—but at the end of those thousand years, they were at each other’s throats, on the brink of war.” His face tightened. “Fionn unified them and set himself above them as High King. The first and only High King this land has ever had.”

So the Morrigan is linked to Fianna which is the wild hunt and we have a Fionn in acotar who has the same name of the leader of wild hunt.

now onto...

Perchta:

Perchta or Berchta (English: Bertha), also commonly known as Percht and other variations, was once known as a goddess in Alpine paganism in the Upper German and Austrian regions of the Alps. Her name may mean "the bright one" (Old High German: beraht, bereht, from Proto-Germanic *berhtaz) and is probably related to the name Berchtentag, meaning the feast of the Epiphany. Eugen Mogk provides an alternative etymology, attributing the origin of the name Perchta to the Old High German verb pergan, meaning "hidden" or "covered". Perchta is often identified as stemming from the same Germanic goddess as Holda and other female figures of Germanic folklore (see Frija-Frigg). According to Jacob Grimm and Lotte Motz, Perchta is Holda's southern cousin or equivalent, as they both share the role of "guardian of the beasts" and appear during the Twelve Days of Christmas, when they oversee spinning.

so she is connected to Holda(keep the red highlighted Frija/Frigg part in mind we are gonna talk about that) and with that they both share the role of "guardian of the beasts"

We have beasts in acotar, in Wild Hunt actually.

“Oh, I do not think so,” Lanthys seethed. “I rode in the Wild Hunt before you were even a scrap of existence, witch from Oorid. I summoned the hounds and the world cowered at their baying. I galloped at the head of the Hunt, and Fae and beast bowed before us.”

“We shall rebuild to what we were before the golden legions of the Fae cast off their chains and overthrew us. We shall resurrect the Wild Hunt and ride rampant through the night. We shall build palaces of ice and flame, palaces of darkness and starlight. Magic shall flow untethered again.” Nesta could see the portrait Lanthys wove into the air around them. She saw herself on a black throne, a matching crown in her unbound hair. Enormous onyx beasts—scaled, like those she’d seen on the Hewn City’s pillars—lay at the foot of the dais. Ataraxia leaned against her throne, and on her other side … Lanthys sat there, his hand laced through hers. Their kingdom was endless; their palace built of pure magic that lived and thrived around them. The Harp sat behind them on an altar, the Mask, too, but the golden Crown wasn’t there.

“The Daglan delighted in terrorizing the Fae and humans under their control. The Wild Hunt was a way to keep all of us in line. They’d gather a host of their fiercest, most merciless warriors and grant them free rein to kill as they pleased. The Daglan possessed mighty, monstrous beasts—hounds, they called them, though they didn’t look like the hounds we know—that they used to run prey to ground before they tortured and killed them. It’s a terrible history, and much of it might be elaborated myths.” “The hounds looked like the beasts in the Hewn City,” Nesta said quietly.

so Hounds/beasts= The Wild Hunt and through Pertcha The Morrigan is connected to the "guardian of the beasts"

moving on...

This next part is interesting.

In some descriptions, Perchta has two forms; she may appear either as beautiful and white as snow like her name, or as elderly and haggard. In many old descriptions, Perchta had one large foot, sometimes called a goose foot or swan foot. Grimm thought the strange foot symbolized her being a higher being who could shapeshift to animal form. He noticed that Bertha with a strange foot exists in many languages (Middle German "Berhte mit dem fuoze", French "Berthe au grand pied", Latin "Berhta cum magno pede", Italian " Berta dai gran piè", title of a medieval epic poem of Italian area): "It is apparently a swan maiden's foot, which as a mark of her higher nature she cannot lay aside...and at the same time the spinning-woman's splayfoot that worked the treadle".In the Tyrol she appears as little old woman with a very wrinkled face, bright lively eyes, and a long hooked nose; her hair is disheveled, her garments tattered and torn.

I talked about Swan maiden in my Seidr post.

In myths Frejya/Frigg(remember the red highlighted part) has seidr magic and Freyja also has:

Freyja is the owner of the necklace Brísingamen, rides a chariot pulled by two cats, is accompanied by the boar Hildisvíni, and possesses a cloak of falcon feathers.

And swan maidens:

The swan maiden is a mythical creature who shapeshifts from human form to swan form. The key to the transformation is usually a swan skin, or a garment with swan feathers attached. In folktales of this type, the male character spies the maiden, typically by some body of water (usually bathing), then snatches away the feather garment (or some other article of clothing), which prevents her from flying away (or swimming away, or renders her helpless in some other manner), forcing her to become his wife.

So they have a "swan skin" with swan feathers which helps them shapeshift.

The question is...is Mor going to turn into a bird like the girls in Koschei's lake? Is she connected to Vassa? And more interesting thing is that in myths The Morrigan can shapeshift--into a crow.

The Morrígan is described as the envious wife of The Dagda and a shape-shifting goddess, while Badb and Nemain are said to be the wives of Neit. She is associated with the banshee of later folklore.

The Dagda...The Daglan in acotar who has the hounds and they had the Wild Hunt....

The Morrígan is mainly associated with war and fate, especially with foretelling doom, death, or victory in battle. In this role she often appears as a crow, the badb.

and lastly from Pertcha's page.

According to Jacob Grimm (1882), Perchta was spoken of in Old High German in the 10th century as Frau Berchta and thought to be a white-robed goddess who oversaw spinning and weaving, like the myths of Holda. He believed she was the feminine equivalent of Berchtold, and was sometimes the leader of the Wild Hunt.

Now I'm gonna talk more about Mor connection to Wild Hunt in acotar and some connections.

While talking about the hounds I took Lanthys's quotes. He was a part of the Wild Hunt.

“Oh, I do not think so,” Lanthys seethed. “I rode in the Wild Hunt before you were even a scrap of existence, witch from Oorid. I summoned the hounds and the world cowered at their baying. I galloped at the head of the Hunt, and Fae and beast bowed before us.”

But what is Lanyths actually? Cassian gives us this information. He is a First God.

Cassian took a bite of food. A good sign that this, at least, was acceptable territory. “When you lived in the human world, you had legends of the dread beasts and faeries who would slaughter you if they ever breached the wall, didn’t you? Things that slithered through open windows to drink the blood of children? Things that were so wicked, so cruel there was no hope against their evil?” The hair on her neck rose. “Yes.” Those stories had always unnerved and petrified her. “They were based on truth. Based on ancient, near-primordial beings who existed here before the High Fae split into courts, before the High Lords. Some call them the First Gods. They were beings with almost no physical form, but a keen, vicious intelligence. Humans and Fae alike were their prey. Most were hunted and driven into hiding or imprisonment ages ago. But some remained, lurking in forgotten corners of the land.” He swallowed another mouthful. “When I was nearing three hundred years old, one of them appeared again, crawling out of the roots of a mountain. Before he went into the Prison and confinement weakened him, Lanthys could turn into wind and rip the air from your lungs, or turn into rain and drown you on dry land; he could peel your skin from your body with a few movements. He never revealed his true form, but when I faced him, he chose to appear as swirling mist. He fathered a race of faeries that still plague us, who thrived under Amarantha’s reign—the Bogge. But the Bogge are lesser, mere shadows compared to Lanthys. If there is such a thing as evil incarnate, it is him. He has no mercy, no sense of right or wrong. There is him, and there is everyone else, and we are all his prey. His methods of killing are creative and slow. He feasts on fear and pain as much as the flesh itself.”(acosf)

So we learn quiet a few things from this quote.

Lantys is a first god.

First gods were near-primordial beings who existed before the High Fae split into courts, before the high lords.

They were beings with almost no physical form, but a keen, vicious intelligence.

But some First gods remained, lurking in forgotten corners of the land.”

Now how this connects to Mor? The Mor's acofas chapter.

In Mor's chapter we have this:

But Mor scented nothing, saw nothing. The tendril of power she speared toward the woods revealed only the usual birds and small beasts. A hart drinking from a hole in an iced-over stream. Nothing, except—.There, between a snarl of thorns. A patch of darkness. It did not move, did not seem to do anything but linger. And watch. Familiar and yet foreign. Something in her power whispered not to touch it, not to go near it. Even from this distance. Mor obeyed. But she still watched that darkness in the thorns, as if a shadow had fallen asleep amongst them. Not like Azriel’s shadows, twining and whispering. Something different. Something that stared back, watching her in turn. Best left undisturbed. Especially with the promise of a crackling fire and glass of wine at home. “Let’s take the short route back,” she murmured to Ellia, patting her neck. The horse needed no further encouragement before launching into a gallop, turning them from the woods and its shadowy watcher. Over and between the hills they rode, until the woods were hidden in the mists behind them. What else might she see, witness, in lands where none in the Night Court had ventured for millennia?(acofas)

She sees a shadows... and what we know about the first gods? with almost no physical form.

It stares back at her, watching her...and what we know about the first gods? but a keen, vicious intelligence.

She was in the lands where none in the Night Courth had ventured for Millennia... what we know about the first gods? lurking in forgotten corners of the land.

Did she saw a First God? Are there more like it? Why mor was the one to see it? This is where her connection to Wild Hunt comes from? She is connected to Wild Hunt? Maybe she is going to be the leader of the Wild Hunt?

Let's not forget that in Wild Hunt myth there are valkyries.

The Wild Hunt is a folklore motif occurring across various northern European cultures. Wild Hunts typically involve a chase led by a mythological figure escorted by a ghostly or supernatural group of hunters engaged in pursuit. The leader of the hunt is often a named figure associated with Odin in Germanic legends, but may variously be a historical or legendary figure like Theodoric the Great, the Danish king Valdemar Atterdag, the dragon slayer Sigurd, the WelshpsychopompGwyn ap Nudd, biblical figures such as Herod, Cain, Gabriel, or the Devil, or an unidentified lost soul or spirit either male or female. The hunters are generally the souls of the dead or ghostly dogs, sometimes fairies, valkyries, or elves.

and Mor in acosf suggested that she might join them.

Mor’s brows bunched. “So you really are learning Valkyrie techniques.” Nesta nodded. They’d been so busy during their dancing lessons that the details of training hadn’t come up. Mor grinned. “You mind if I start joining you once this business with Vallahan is over? I never got to train with the Valkyries before the first War, and after it, they were all gone.”

So Mor as the leader of the Wild Hunt?

[libertyreads]

September 2024 TBR--

I am DETERMINED to make September a good month. Just a good month in my life (I need it). And that's starting with the books. I'm having to roll over my reread of Catching Fire from last month due to life but I'm also so excited for all of the romance reads coming to me soon. (Also, a non-hockey sports romance? Let's all take a moment to reign in our surprise.)

The Hunting Moon by Susan Dennard (Reread)--I'm prepping for the final book in the trilogy to come out this Fall. The general synopsis for the series is this: Hemlock Falls has a forest that fills with monsters every night when the sun sets and the mists rise. Which is why the town is full of hunters. But Winnie and her family are outsiders due to her father being outed as a witch and a traitor ten years ago. Until she creates a plan to be welcomed back with open arms.

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins (Reread)--This is my other reread for the month. I’m planning on reading all of the books in the series this year. We follow Katniss and Peeta as they complete the district tour following their win of the games. But then they’re forced to go back into the arena when the Quarter Quell is announced.

First Down by Grace Reilly--A sports romance that isn't hockey? Who is she? In honor of football starting up, I'm reading this football romance I found in the Chicago airport a few months back. This follows Bex as she struggles to make her ex realize she doesn't want to get back together and James as he struggles with a writing class he needs to graduate. They decide to trade: tutoring for fake dates. But what happens when the dates don't feel so fake after all?

Five Broken Blades by Mai Corland--The king of Yusan must die and the five most dangerous liars in the land have been mysteriously summoned to work together in order to kill him. Each of the five blades will come for him. They can agree on murder. They can agree on treachery. But for these five killers it's not enough to forge an alliance. To survive, they must find a way to trust each other, but only one can take the crown.

Happy Place by Emily Henry--This is my first attempt at Emily Henry and I'm not sure how I want this to go. This one has fake dating so I'm excited to give it a shot. A couple broke up 6 months ago but never told their friends and now they're all going on vacation together. And this will be their final year to vacation at this cottage so they think it'll be easier to pretend they're still together. That will be easier, won't it?

Blindsided by Victoria Denault (Kindle)--This is an enemies to lovers hockey romance. I'm keeping my streak of reading one hockey romance a month going with this one. I read book one in this series a while back and decided to pick up the next one. It seems like this series is written by a bunch of different authors so I'm not sure how this will stack up with the first but I'm ready to give it a shot. (Pun intended.)

The Bitter End by Alexa Donne(NetGalley)--A winter storm traps eight students of LA's elite Warner Prep in a remote ski cabin. They're stranded with a killer--who may just be one of their own. I've never read from Alexa Donne before, but I've heard of them so I'm excited to try out one of their books. I'm always down for a locked room mystery. One that deals with snooty rich kids? Let's go.

Christmas Sweater Weather by Jaqueline Snowe(NetGalley)--While at a snowy ski resort for her brother's festive bachelor party, Charlotte is thrown together with her bother's best friend Hayden--the same best friend who rejected her long ago. She can tell herself to get over Hayden, but holiday cheer is turning to holiday lust every time they're within ten feet of each other.

I'm hoping the romance helps lift my spirts this month. I'm also really hoping to enjoy the fantasy and mystery novels that are coming to my eyeballs soon.

[impernious]

Good morning everyone, and Merry Christmas.

As a little treat, I've prepared a preview of one of my sovereign daemons for At the Gates. Daemons come in two flavors, lesser and sovereign. Lesser daemons are not necessarily smaller, but less powerful entities that show up when summoned and stick around for a scene. They give you access to unique abilities, and act on their own accord. Sovereigns are much more powerful, and show up for only a few rounds and while they are there they convey a static benefit to you and your allies and a penalty to your enemies. Additionally, When they arrive, and ever few rounds they have what is called an Outburst attack, that attacks all your enemies at once. These extremely powerful entities can quickly change the tide of battle, so summoning them is costly both in terms of expenditure and the risk of effect they have on the world when they enter.

Without further ado, here's a sovereign daemon:

Vodalak, the Absolute Zero

A powerful blizzard blinds the world. Once the white-out recedes enough to see again, the presence of a cyclopean ice pillar demands to be acknowledged: The pillar emanates a dreadful aura where cruelty joins hatred. An echoing like muffled thunder precedes a scream like a choked lament. The ice explodes and shatters in all directions. Where it once stood, a horrible warlock, gaunt and distorted by resentment, floats midair. Rime dots his long pale beard, while a horned crown of frozen iron fuses with his very own frostbitten flesh. After a moment spent examining those beneath him, judging them worthy of his spiteful disdain, the entity snaps his gnarled fingers, and cold devastation follows. 

Hateful Vodalak wishes nothing more than to wallow in bitter solitude, something he’d gladly reduce the world to a frozen wasteland for.

Effects: Encased in ice armor, Vodalak’s allies gain one additional Injury box and the Ice tag on all their attacks. Combat Tricks against them require 1 additional hit, while they need only 2 hits to purchase the Critical Trick against enemies subjected to the Petrification status effect. Vodalak imposes the Extreme Temperature (Cold) and Extreme Weather area effects on the scene. Additionally, antagonists who don’t take a physical action during their turn suffer a Moderate Complication, gaining the Petrification status effect if not purchased off.

Outburst Tags: Brutal, Ice