#slice of life fantasy

[innocentlymacabre]

Due North [Part 1]: 8 Brook Way

30.07.21 | Part 0

Fantasy meets slice-of-life in the secretive, wonderous, and oddity-rich lives of the residents of Due North

8 Brook Way currently held the form of a picturesque cottage, the likes of which can be found front and centre of just about every children’s book. It was quaint, simultaneously large and small, and somehow smelled wonderfully of fresh baked cookies even empty. It had taken on several forms over its extremely long life, several far more interesting than the one it currently donned, but its walls were presently abuzz with murmurs of excitement nonetheless.

8 Brook Way was no longer empty, and its new residents, Alberto Zecca and Isabella Autin, fawned over the shape it had taken for them. A tree, the type of which eluded every botanist that had ever attempted to classify it, stood guard from the backyard garden, its branches graciously extending to the perimeter, keeping time with the wind. It sang with the wind, hundreds of voices chiming in to make one, beautiful harmony that wafted throughout town, a siren call rumoured to be able to lift the spirits of those in mourning or even heal a broken heart. Ivy crawled across the bounding walls, weaving into its very make, and small, almost imperceptible paw prints and claw marks were pressed on top. The ivy snaked and stretched underground, far further down than anyone had ever explored, secrets resting on its every strand.

8 Brook Way was the only house in its vicinity, forming a sort of block of its own, and Brook Way was the closest street to the house, rather than the one it was on. The actual Brook Way skipped the number eight, an oddity that had led to several confused new postmen. Alberto and Isabella didn”t mind the confusion in the slightest – in fact, Alberto said it was one of the endless positives that came with the house.

Having moved in only a few hours ago, the pair were lounging on a chesterfield sofa that came with the house, in the otherwise almost unfurnished living room. The full moon shone brilliantly through the glass wall opposite them, the silver light falling delicately on each surface. Beyond it lay a presently untended garden, the moon’s light dipping and diving between its weeds and many, many secrets that Number 8 couldn’t wait for the residents to uncover.

It seemed though, it would have to wait. Tonight, the residents stayed indoors, unknowingly nested amidst the liveliest walls in the house.

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“I really don’t want to cook tonight,” Alberto complained.

“Yeah, I’m too tired too,” Isabella agreed. “What about that diner we passed on the way in? Something with an O,” she said, desperately trying to picture the wooden sign jutting out of the doorway. “Oh, it’s no use. We went by so quickly, the only thing I remember is that it was painted blue and green.”

“What about pizza? There’s always pizza.”

“But…diner!” Isabella protested, always having adored a good diner. “Come on, let’s just walk around town. It’s a small place, we’re bound to find it eventually.”

Alberto begrudgingly conceded, which is how they found themselves face to face with a man in a suspiciously large trench coat, asking for directions after having gone down three long, wrong roads. Isabella suspected he was hiding snakes under that coat, judging by the suspicious hissing sounds interspersing his speech, but the fact that said speech seemed to be exclusively rhymes annoyed her more. His confusing aid, if you could even call it that, led them to yet another wrong street.

They did, of course, eventually make it to the diner – “Ossario’s! I told you it had an O!” – after being seemingly guided by a particularly friendly dog. As they approached the establishment, Alberto thought he saw the paint of the building shimmering and changing colour slightly but dismissed it as hunger (and slight annoyance at Isabella’s insistence on eating at the diner, if he was honest).

The woman behind the wrap-around counter introduced herself as Alecia Ossario, the owner of the diner. If you passed her on the street, she would most likely end up as nothing more than a face you see in a dream and wake up trying to place. Yet, for some indescribable reason, both Alberto and Isabella couldn’t help but be drawn to her, intrigued by the notion of her very existence. The room’s light seemed to bend around her, respectfully leaving her untouched; but rather than leave her shrouded in the dark, she shimmered as she moved.

“I’m Isabella and he’s Alberto. We just moved in.”

“Berto and Bella – how sweet! I didn’t know number eight had gone to such a lovely couple,” Alecia said with a smile. She smiled with her eyes, her genuineness probably the only reason Bella noticed them. She couldn’t be sure because it really wasn’t the sort of thing you saw very often, but she swore she saw her eyes change colour.

“Oh! Oh, no,” Berto countered, a little tired of the same song and dance over and over again. “We’re not a couple.”

“Definitely not,” Bella picked up, easing him of the burden of explanation. “He’s a writer, and I’m an artist, so we can both work from wherever we want, as long as his editor and my gallery get something every now and then. “Wherever we want” just so happens to coincide, so we moved in together to save money.”

Alecia seemed impressed and asked a little about their work, Bella noticing each time her eyes changed colour, before segueing into their orders.

“We’re starved,” Bella blurted out before Berto had a chance to ask for a menu. “Whatever can be made the fastest.”

“Burgers and chips coming right up,” Alecia noted, turning to the kitchen.

The moment she was out of earshot, Bella pulled Berto in close. “Dude! Did you see –”

“Her eyes?” Berto interjected, nodding vigorously. “Yeah, I saw ‘em too. You know what else? I saw the paint on the outside change colour too.”

-----

thanks for reading! this is a seven-part series I'll be releasing week-on-week. if you'd rather not wait, you can grab the whole thing here for the low low price of one (1) email address! it’s a big, 33-page PDF, so you’ll get plenty of bang for your non-buck - whatcha waiting for?

Update: PART 2

my writing is entirely reader-supported, so I’d be thrilled if you could drop a coin or two into my tip jar! :) annnnnd I may or may not slip a couple of for-your-eyes-only book bundles under the table as a little thanks ;)

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[jacktheeldergod]

Bread

✦ Bread ✦

[signourneybooks]

Cozy Fantasy Book Tag

On this fine Sunday I thought it was time for a book tag. I still have some backlog book tags I’d like to get to anyway. Yes I do have a bunch saved in my email folder. Shhh. And what better kind of book tag for a Sunday than one about cozy fantasy. I like cozy SFF and slice of life SFF, though they are not the same thing to me. I might write something about that in the future. But for now we…

[thebarontheabyss]

This tale starts with your death.

Read WIP here

(Current wordcount: 240k!)

You remember only the moth, carrying you through the cosmos.

And so, the Abyss beckons you.

Now, you are a spirit, immortal. After a meeting with the Grim Reaper, Death, you were gifted with a peculiar inheritance: a bar.

This mysterious establishment and the Abyss around it serve as a nexus, connected to every realm in existence. It's a haven where spirits and deities, devils and angels, converge to drink and revel.

Yet, beneath the surface, an unease stirs. A voice calls out in your dreams—a loneliness that echoes through the Abyss. Why does it seek you?

A motley crew of spirits and immortals, each hailing from distant corners of the realms, stands with you. Bonds are waiting to be formed, or even love that transcends death itself—perhaps even with Death themself.

Manage your bar, where serving a drink to a god or an eldritch entity is just another day's work. Unravel a cosmic mystery, go on a date in infernal Hell, witness the universe's creation, or unlock the arcane secrets of magic.

Your new afterlife awaits.

A narrative-driven experience focused on character development and storytelling.

Play as any gender or none.

Shape your personality through meaningful choices.

Engage in deep and complex relationships with a diverse cast of characters.

Romance mortals and immortals alike - if you want poly, purely physical, or asexual - they will respond in kind.

Explore the afterlife, visit realms of immortals and gods, and uncover the dark secrets of the bar.

M\F\NB (Poly or Monogamous paths) Death reveals a surprising warmth beneath their eternal duty.

Is there room for love within their everlasting embrace? Read more >>>

M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) This devilish being, a powerful magnet of desire, seeks more than power in the bar’s shadows.

Who dares to pursue the heart behind the flame?

Read more >>>

M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) The Witch, with their feline companion, seeks a lost soul, their magic stirring trouble and passion alike.

Can a mortal love thrive in the spirit realm?

Read more >>>

M (Monogamous path)

A mercenary turned security guard, Hastur carries an immortal burden, guilt born of past battles and sacrifices.

Will your love heal his wounds?

Read more >>>

NB (Monogamous path) The spectral diva enchants with their voice, their performance a dance of beauty tinged with the sorrow of eternal life.

Can your love find a new song for them?

Read more >>>

M\F\NB (Monogamous path) A shade keeps the bar’s order, and his silence holds the weight of cosmic secrets and the tapestry of existence.

Will your heart fall for the being behind the shadow?

Read more >>>

With feathers dark and wit sharp, The Raven’s history is as rich as the bar itself. He offers piercing insight beneath a layer of humor.

Read more >>>

The stern soothsayer-turned-accountant Yaga guards the bar’s fortune while wrestling with her own spectral regrets and wisdom.

Read more >>>

Shelly, the bar’s assistant, brings life-affirming warmth but seeks a new family to fill the void of her lost one.

Read more >>>

Welcome to the cosmos: the tapestry of existence, a complex weave of ever-changing realms. Each domain is a thread in the grand design.

Read more >>>

Feedback on any typos, grammatical errors, or other textual issues.

Notes on any continuity errors to ensure a smooth and logical progression.

Thoughts and opinions on the plot, characters, and overall narrative experience.

Don't be shy about sending your feedback - as small as it may be. I'll be answering and taking each into consideration. You are very welcome to post your reviews here!

The game explores themes of Death in various forms, including suicide.

Alcohol indulgence and its various side effects (hangovers, vomiting, etc.)

Sexual themes (currently only non-explicit)

[skittykittybean]

Woah hey! Did I ever tell anyone that I’m a writer? :3

Well, now I am! Just posted my first story onto VoyceMe for a competition they’re doing. Part of the judging criteria is view numbers. Every click counts!!

(Though reads are appreciated too! X3)

[cracklewink]

some sketches of my guy

[iluumey]

happy pride month to toxic doomed yuri (frostkettle)

[hattiestgal]

Dragons Roar

[elizabugz]

Some silly little ghibli + rain pfps <3

From: Kiki’s Delivery Service, Howl’s Moving Castle, Ponyo, Arrietty, and two from My Neighbour Totoro

[jean-wei]

Another one! This one's from 2021. Just corny vibes, no big story. : ) You can read Phrasebook vol 1 here, and vol 2 here. If you feel so inclined, you can buy digital PDFs of all of the comics on my web shop!

I'll get vol 4 done ... eventually... someday... hahahahahahah! It's been quite a while. Aiming for 5-6 in total i think. We'll see what happens!

[innocentlymacabre]

Steadman Hirsch, premier and proudest realtor in all of Due North, stood in front of his latest job-well-done. Handy job, real estate. Supported his lifestyle quite well, what with everyone always welcoming him in with open arms and big, teeth-baring smiles.

This particular listing was a particular brand of fantastic. 8 Brook Way. Oh, if these walls could talk! (The fact that some of these walls could, in fact, talk, had no bearing on Steadman Hirsch’s use of the expression, for he was born with a rare condition preventing him from recognising any sort of irony whatsoever.)

Continue Reading

[fallstaticexit]

Adie Briar is no typical 8 year old. She has access to an ancient and powerful magic that has a dark side. Follow her on her journey to learn more about her magical birthright as well as her budding friendship with a gifted faerie child, Edin Silversweater. Beginning - Character Page - COTF Tag

[signourneybooks]

Of Knights and Books and Falling in Love | Book Review

Book: Of Knights and Books and Falling in Love by Rita A. RubinRelease Date: June 29th 2023Tags: New Adult | High Fantasy | Slice of Life Fantasy | Cozy Fantasy | M/M Romance Trigger/Content Warnings: Torture | War victims | Kidnapping Jayce has little memory of life before entering servitude to the Dark Lord, and no hope of ever escaping. Until he meets Alexius, the knight with a heart of gold.…

[tempestmothstorm]

Ok since Monika still has her admin powers in the side stories you think she could just discover them accidentally or use them without realizing

Anyways au where Monika and friends discover her admin powers but dont know about the wider context of what it means. So they just go around thinking Monika has magic and try practicing with a bunch of silly fun shenanigans because they figure it’s some chosen one bloodline stuff and not like. A product of their reality being a constricted digital science experiment.

This au will not end well

[bregflr]

slug training

A bit different than my usual stuff, bu got commissioned to make this dwarf fortress art, the client wanted to register the story of a bunch of slug friends that were accepted into the dwarf hill fort, and utterly failed to enter the local militia, because they were a bit too sluggish

[thisisxli]

✵*ᴍᴇᴛᴀɴᴏɪᴀ𖤓

Vocab:

(n.) Metanoia - the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life, spiritual conversion.

Rs: Tenko Shimura x Mom!reader

Warnings:

angst, bittersweet ending,

traumatized Tenko, scratching,

foreshadowing of death but it's caused by old age

summary: You, someone who doesn't stand out too well with sort of a decent job come across a damaged boy. You take him in your care, watching him grow as you forget you were growing too.

wc: 1.7k

A/N: there's a lot of fluff here guys dw it's just the thought of it that makes it nostalgic and sad.

Suggested song:

The sky was covered in dark clouds, light rain pouring down on the dampened streets, street lamps dimly illuminating the umbrellas of passerbys. The air seemed so grim and so blue, not a lot of people were outside.

You were in your early thirties and you had a casual job, nothing too special with high-income or low-income; to be frank, you were a nurse. You were walking down the sidewalk from work, light rain drops dribbling and rolling off your umbrella, heavy steps of your boots filling up the thick silence in the air.

You were never too outgoing or very quiet either. Neither did you stand out. In the world full of people with superpowers, you were simply in the background.

Your quirk wasn't very too extravagant either. Your ability to control one's circulatory system didn't seem to be very useful out in the hero world, so you just figured it'd be best to stick to the normal life. It wasn't really like you wanted to be one anyway. You realized being a hero can be a lot on a person when you were nine, thinking long and hard about it.

Your thoughts and feet quickly come to a stop at the same time, faintly hearing a child's cry.

It doesn't take you one single thought to quickly rush over in a empty alley to find a child. Your eyes scan over the dark place before spotting a pale blue-haired boy crying to himself.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

The boy whimpers in response as loud hiccups and sobs escape him. Your heart wilts at the sight, crouching down in front of the boy. "Are you alright?" You repeat, quickly scanning over the alley again. "Do you have parents? Are they around?" The boy looks up at you with lachrymose eyes, shaking his head. Your face droops a little. You notice irritation and scratch marks around the eyes and small wounds on his eye and lip.

You didn't want to take the boy so suddenly because what if he did have guardians? What if there were people looking for him?

Then again, there was no one around and you couldn't handle the heartbreak if you left the poor kid out in the wet and cold. You hesitate for a moment before bringing your hand on top of his head, ruffling the wet matted hair. "Why don't you stay at my place, kid? Get you cleaned up, yeah?" The pale boy hiccuped, nodding as soft sobs and short-repeated inhales erupt from him. Surprisingly, the kid was reluctant. You felt really bad. You suddenly felt this strong urge to protect and take care of him.

You gently place your hand on his chest, using your quirk, doing what you do best. You usually do this at the hospital you work at, when patients have panick attacks or when a patients' family start to break down after their death. You start to hear his breathing slow down and stay steady. He wasn't scratching all that much either. You stand up, bringing your hand out in front of you for him to grab. He also stands up, nearly stumbles over his own feet though, looking at your hand warily. Instead of grabbing it, he moves close to your leg. He was sort of resting his head on your thigh and it made you smile warmly. As you both walked, he stayed glued by your side under the umbrella.

When you got to your home, your first thought was to give him a bath.

You turned on the water, dipping your hands in to check the temperature. You hold out your hand towards the boy again which he.. doesn't take again, sadly. You chuckle silently before beckoning him to take off his clothes.

"You'll get a cold if you keep them on. But don't worry, I won't look. I'm only gonna help wash you, okay?"

You look away, covering both your eyes with your hands. You hear him step into the tub, feeling a tug on your pants. You turned your head, seeing the boy's bare back facing you. You warmly smile before turning off the water, grabbing a bowl that was on the side.

"Shh, it's okay," you reassure the boy, trying your best to gently dump water on his head. He starts to scratch his eyes. His scratching had you worried but there wasn't much you could do. You couldn't just tell him to not do it anymore. You definitely need to do something about that scratching.

You pour a good amount of shampoo in your hands before gently spreading it all over his head, making your way to scrub his scalp and untangle parts of his hair. His hair seemed kind of unnatural. Of course it was pretty common for some people to have vibrant colors for their hair naturally but something about the kid made you feel sad. The boy nearly falls asleep in your hands, receiving a light-hearted laugh from you.

"So what's your name?"

The boy fiddles with his fingers underwater, blinking hazily at his reflection. "Tenko... Tenko Shimura."

"That's a nice name! My name's (Y/N) (L/N). You can just call me whatever you want, okay?" You warmly smile at him, taking a scoop of water in the bowl. "Close your eyes, Tenko."

As he does so, water pours over his head, soap running over his face. You pour water again, making sure all the soap was gone. Tenko watches all the dirty gunk and hair float around him, frowning when he starts to think about the past events that occurred not too long ago.

You pour conditioner in your hands, rubbing it in the ends of his hair. You let it sit there before grabbing some bottle, pouring some of it in the bath, swirling and moving your hand in the water to create bubbles. Tenko grabs at the foam of bubbles but when he does, it doesn't decay? His vision starts to get blurry when he doesn't see the bubbles decay. He almost jumps when he feels a warm wet sponge on his back, also coated in soap and bubbles. You scrub over his arms, under, his body, etc. You then pour water over his head, making sure to wash the conditioner away from his hair.

When he was all dried up, he was changed into the clothes your ex left behind. Sure, the clothes were large on him, but luckily you had safety pins for that. You put a safety pin on the boxer and shorts but the shirt.

You nearly squeal because he looked so cute.

About a week later, you find yourself signing papers. Officially adopting Tenko.

You had to or you couldn't get him treated. He seems to have allergies or eczema, any of that sort. And it seems to be because of his quirk, you think. A few days after meeting, he tells you about his quirk, how it destroys anything he touches. Why he couldn't take ahold of your hand. You didn't judge him though, you ruffled his hair when he explained it to you.

You scheduled an appointment for the next week, going over his symptoms. He currently seems to also have insomnia. It broke your heart because he was just too young.

A month goes by and you're applying lotion on his skin before applying cream around his eyes and throat. It seemed to have spread to his throat too. Tenko's lips also tended to become very chapped so you bought healing jelly for that too.

"There, all done Tenko!

How do you feel?"

He shyly looks up to you, fiddling with his shirt. "'S nice.." You give him a tender smile, ruffling his hair gently.

"Tenko Shimura! You get your butt here, right now!"

Tenko grumbles, stomping his way to his room. He recently had turned fourteen and it seemed he'd been having mood swings lately. But you let it slide, you knew how it was being a teenager. When you heard about what happened before he met you, you broke down in front of him. His past broke you so bad, you couldn't imagine how unbearably hurtful it was to have experienced that. But right now, he had nearly started a fight at school. Now he has detention.

You sigh when you hear metal music blast from his room, continuing to fold the rest of the laundry.

"Tenko... I'm so proud of you, my boy," you gazed at the now taller-than-you boy, holding his diploma. He was quick to pull you in for a hug, careful not to touch you with all five fingers.

"I love you, mom." His voice wavers, clutching onto you tightly.

Your eyes widen at his words. That was his first time telling you he loved you and calling you his mom. A cry rips from your throat, clutching onto him tightly. "I love you too, Tenko!" You hiccup, drowning in tears.

"My son! I love you.. my son, so- hck - so much!"

You open your eyes to the sound of a monitor beeping, the sound of the cold air leaving the AC drowning the room. You feel someone's warm hand against your own, their thumb rubbing across your wrinkly knuckles.

"T-Tenko? Is that you?" You warily look over to the side, seeing your son's sad expression. He smiles though. Just for you. "Tenko.. Tenko.."

"What is it, mom?" A tear falls onto your hand.

"When did you- when did you grow up so quick.. I..."

Your eyes dart around, looking him up and down. "Let- let me take care of you, Tenko.. Give you your first bath..."

He laughs with a lump in his throat before leaning down, gently kissing your knuckles. "Mom... It's okay. Just rest, okay?"

You nod, drawing your gaze to the blank wall, light rain tapping against the window. You think of your son, the first time you met him and all the other special moments. Caring for him for his first time on a bike, first heartbreak, first girlfriend, first job, advice for everything, high school graduation, marriage, divorce, and everything else. You feel your chest slowly rise. You notice your breathing is starting to slow and that your body felt a little numb, mind a little hazy.

"Mom?" You move your head to the sound of your son's quivering voice, his glossy red eyes staring back into yours with hurt and love. You watch his lips twitch upward before laughing heartedly, clutching your cold clammy hand tighter than before.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Tenko."

A/N:

My poor baby Tenko deserves the world. :(