#anyways ...filigree my conflicted

[mekha-draws]

'nother DTDAY doodle? In this economy? Yeah sure 👍

Incandescent for StormIsADragon

[darkhymns-fic]

No Longer Just a Church Girl

Vaggie is busy going through a religious crisis and questioning her place. Meanwhile, Charlie the occult enthusiast whirlwinds into her life to offer her an alternate path: a rehabilitation club! That, or, she just really wants to ask her out.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Charlie Morningstar/Vaggie Rating: T Word Count: 3515 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Written for the alternate universe prompt for Hellaverse Sapphics Week happening on twitter! Also, seemed fun to put Vaggie into my own disillusioned Catholic experiences.

--

A church feels really different when no one is around, she thought.

Vaggie could hear every creak and bend in the wood from the surrounding pews. She did all she could to not move as much in her seat, but only succeeded in hitting her sole against the footrest before her. The stained glass windows above seemed even larger than before, along with the empty spaces between each color, from pale white to deep-seated red. She craned her neck, catching each detail of the painted filigree mural just past the wooden beams.

Now by herself, with her face still aching, it all seemed just too much. Just being in here was exhausting.

She couldn’t remember the last time she actively enjoyed being in this place. But also, where else could she even go?

What a time to have a religious conflict.

Maybe what happened next was a strange blessing in disguise, one that tore Vaggie away from her swirling thoughts, who looked upon the symbols of the church and saw only shapes instead of what they represented. When she heard the large church doors open, their hinges squeaked loudly, echoing within the space like a discordant bell. Also, whoever opened those doors did it slowly, as if having trouble. 

Or maybe they were trying to do a grand entrance.

Vaggie gave a deep sigh, her headache deepening. She knew one person who would do such a ridiculous thing.

“Hijo de… Adam. I already told you that I’m not going back—”

She rounded over her shoulder, but the annoying frat boy face she’d had to endure for too many years was not what she saw at first glance.

Instead, it was this girl with stunning blonde hair.

“Oof, this seems a little overkill,” came a mutter that sounded oddly adorable. Once past the door threshold, Vaggie got a better look. The girl’s outfit was a little peculiar, for Vaggie didn’t know many women who just wore suspenders like that, but coupled with a white dress shirt, it was oddly a little stylish. Like she was going to a dress-up party, or maybe even a meeting. It was kinda ruined by the pastel-colored messenger bag the girl carried, the one with the weird goat charms hanging off the strap.

Wait, she knew those goat charms. She’d seen them back at campus.

“Whoa…” The girl looked around the church, eyeing the stained glass, as well as the votive candles that were placed within the recesses of the walls, along with one depiction of the Pieta. “This is so exotic!”

Vaggie cleared her throat, which of course sounded too loud within the church air. “Charlie?”

“Ah!!” The girl turned quickly, like she’d been caught. Vaggie left her seat at the pew to stand in the aisle before her. She unconsciously reached to cover the bandage that was wrapped over her right eye, but her hair was already doing that for her anyway.

“It-It’s fine! Um, are you here for service? The next one starts this evening if you’re wondering.”

Not that she’d ever even seen Charlie in church before. Was she a new convert?

The girl blinked, and then, the biggest smile stretched across her face. The soft lighting from the rafters fell across her rosy cheeks. Her eyes seemed to gleam as well—with red. That was another odd thing about her, how she seemed to wear red contacts that definitely gave her a weird vibe. Also, was she wearing fake fangs? That was new. Or did she alter them…?

“Oh, Vaggie! I was hoping you’d be here! I lost you a bit when I followed you from the campus grounds, but then I remembered you wore a crucifix so I figured—”

“Wait,” Vaggie interrupted. “Were you stalking me?”

“Whaaat, pft, no! Noooo…” Charlie fixed a lock of hair behind her hair. “Maybe?”

“Eh.” Vaggie shrugged. “Been stalked by worse.” And hit those that did. Charlie was at least a pleasant surprise.

“A-Anyway! I’ve been trying to reach you but  you always leave our classes so fast. And I wanted to extend this invitation personally!”

Charlie didn’t seem to have any sort of volume control on her voice. Church acoustics were for hearing the preacher go on about their sins, the choir singing the same songs she’d known since she was a child, as well as those who joined the hymns and turned to wish good will on their neighbor with a fake smile. It was not meant for someone who was happy-yelling and seemed absolutely genuine in that fact.

Maybe Vaggie was still feeling a little bitter about things. Sure, Charlie’s voice was kinda loud but at least it was keeping her awake. “So… is this like a party or…?”

“Even better!” And with that, Charlie reached into her way too cutesy messenger bag and pulled out a pamphlet made from cheap paper. Oh, she recognized that cheap paper too. So Charlie must have been at the campus after hours unlike most people.

Charlie was smiling so wide and with such watery and devilishly red eyes that Vaggie would have felt like a complete jerk if she didn’t accept it. Pamphlet in hand, (after a miss or two. She was still getting used to her new sense of perspective now with only one eye working), she peered down at the front where it looked like Charlie had discovered clip art and had gone mad in plastering it all over the place, nearly overtaking the actual text. There was also glitter sprinkled all over the page, much of it loose and already getting on Vaggie’s fingers.

A happy place for everyone!

Join the Happy Brigade at Morningstar College and turn that frown upside down!

A first-ever rehabilitation club of its kind!! 

(Rehabilitate; verb, re•ha•bil•i•tate: to restore to good repute–)

She shook her head at the sudden definition drop, but one thing definitely stuck out here.

“...A rehabilitation club?” Vaggie read out loud, as if doing so would help it make more sense. It didn’t.

“Yes, that’s it!” Charlie said so quickly, ready to burst with excitement. She was stretching up on the toes of her shoes up and down. “I’m making a new club! The Happy Brigade!”

Vaggie’s answer was silence, still wondering if what she was experiencing was some fever dream. Charlie took that to mean criticism.

“Okay, the name needs a little bit of work, yes, but the message of the club is clear! We’re here to help rehabilitate other people into a better life and kick them from their bad habits! All after class time!”

“That sounds illegal.”

“Oh, don’t worry! My dad pulled a few strings so it’s all in the clear!”

Did she mean her dad, the head dean of their college? Yeah, that made sense. For an important faculty member, the man was rarely ever in the building. And when he was, he would just go visit Charlie in her classes, which got distracting enough for a few professors to kick him out during a lesson.

“And we already got a few club members too! There’s Anthony, and that man who calls himself Husk for some reason, and—”

“The dude who hangs out at the red light district?” Vaggie uttered in shock. “And the drunk who got caught sneaking in vodka bottles on college grounds?”

“Yeah! So you know them too?”

“I know of them.” When people had reputations like that, it was hard not to know…

“We also have Mrs. Niffty. She offered to help clean up the library room we’ll be using. I guess her husband has been away for a while so she has a lot of free time on her hands!”

Niffty’s marriage was one to question, especially if a husband of hers had disappeared suddenly.

“That funny Pentious guy is also joining! Though it’s sorta forced since he blew up one of the science rooms, but I’m sure this will definitely help his parole!”

That was the man from England who looked like he came out of some steampunk convention and who definitely had a few screws loose…

“Oh, and guess what? We even got Alastor! He says he’ll help us promote our club during the radio program he holds at school. Isn’t that great?”

Vaggie blinked. “You got the creepy guy.”

“He’s not that creepy. Just enthusiastic!”

Yeah, and the rumors of him having decapitated heads in his freezer was also just as widespread. How the fuck that guy was still allowed to stay enrolled, she’d never know. She was pretty sure even the dean hated his guts.

Hearing Charlie list out the members, Vaggie was once again reminded how the community college they all attended wasn’t exactly a prestigious place. Not only was the college rumored to be some sort of Satanic cult meeting place, (it had been first established in the 80’s and would have definitely fit the whole Satanic panic that had been prevalent then) they had all sorts of people in their classes, many of them from all walks of life, and in their later years of life as well. Charlie and Vaggie were more of the outliers, typical college age while everyone else jumped up and down from incredibly suspiciously young housewives to seventy year-old deadbeats that gambled away what’s left of their social security checks.

And Charlie was putting the most…colorful of them in one single room—to rehabilitate. This girl must have had a death wish.

Then again, clubs were such a rare thing at their college. And Vaggie always had to leave straight from classes to attend church services and the like.

Well, she used to at least.

She looked at the paper once more with its shoddy printing, the text already having faded from all the clip art Charlie wasted the ink on. “Look, I appreciate it, but…”

Then when she lifted her head, she noticed something that had been hidden by Charlie’s hair, now gleaming around her neck, hanging by a black cord.

“Are you…wearing a pentagram?” Vaggie stared at her blankly. “In here?”

Yeah, maybe those cult rumors had some truth to it.

The manic enthusiasm Charlie had been exuding seemed to vanish. She looked like she was sweating bullets, her pale face turning even paler.

“Um, hold on! It’s not a Satanic thing! I swear!” She hurriedly put away the pentagram-shaped necklace back underneath her shirt. “I just really like studying the occult! I don’t hate God or anything! Religion is cool!”

“Don’t say that,” Vaggie deadpanned. “You know it’s not cool.”

That caught Charlie off-guard, who seemed to be in conflict with agreeing with her and also protesting that no way, of course the thing that she was brought up into her entire life without her consent was cool! The girl was kind of a people pleaser, wasn’t she? 

Vaggie sighed, then handed the pamphlet back to Charlie. “Listen, I know you’re inviting me because you think I also need something in me fixed.” 

She not-so-subtly gestured to her bandage. It was wrapped a bit haphazardly, and a lot of gauze was used. To try and hide away such a grievous loss.

“But I don’t really feel like being someone's guinea pig for her new obsession. Sounds like you got plenty of others for that anyway. I’ve…got a lot on my plate.”

Even if there was something broken in her now. Aimless, even. But she didn’t want to give anyone that power over her again.

But while in her talk, she looked away, half in shame. And when she turned back to Charlie, she nearly jumped at the incredibly kicked puppy-dog expression on her face.

“Vaggie, that’s—!” Charlie sniffled, wiping away her tears with her fingers, which Vaggie just noted now were decked in black nail polish. “It…has to do with this place, doesn’t it? That’s so brave of you…”

“What? No, I just volunteer here part-time,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “Do you need a tissue?”

“Ah no, I’m good! I’m good!” Charlie took out what looked like a rainbow-patterned handkerchief and blew her nose on it. “Sorry, I just get moved very easily…”

“...Okay, but you get what I’m saying, right? I don’t want to join your club. So, unless you’re staying here for service or answering our ad for a new organist player, you don’t need to be here.”

Charlie wiped at her face once more, her low ponytail coming just slightly undone. “I mean, I did come here because I figured something has happened with you. Especially, um, with all the rumors about your ex-boyfriend—”

“He’s not my boyfriend. Or my ex!” Vaggie made a quick cutting gesture with her hands. “Ay, carajo. Just, ew. No. We only go to this church together with Lute.”

“...Oh!” Charlie blinked. “Ohhhh.” Then she shook her head. “Wait, I'm getting off-track! What I meant to say is, I just, um, wanted you to come personally! Because… I want to hang out with you more?”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “So you made a club to do that?”

“Yes! I mean, no? I mean, I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone! Except I don’t condone killing, of course. Not here in this house of God!” Charlie put her hands on her hips, lips pressed firm and blinking rapidly. “Is that the right term? I’m sorry if I’m blaspheming, I don’t mean to.”

She seemed to really think she would be struck down by lightning if she said the wrong things. Then why would she still bring in a pentagram? Vaggie thought.

Then she thought back to all those times they’d been in class together. (They attended Music Theory together under Professor Moxxie, who was definitely some has-been theater performer whose plays never got top billing). The way Charlie would always lend her a pen to take notes with, even though she never asked her? And also that time she wanted to team up with her on an assignment, or practice a song together even though the class wasn’t even about singing? Charlie was weird, and very energetic, and could almost be described as aggressively friendly, sometimes getting so close that she couldn’t help but catch the scent of lavender…

…And that was when Vaggie realized she might not exactly be as straight as an arrow, and had to work that out along with all her other religious crises that were rapidly piling up.

“I’m sorry, are you mad at me?”

“Huh?” Vaggie realized she had just been staring off into space, leaving Charlie hanging with that mixture of hope and dread in her eyes. What was she hoping for? And for that matter, what was she dreading?

“I—I’m not mad, just… why me?” Vaggie tried not to pick at her bandages again. Not like it mattered, she was going to be a cyclops forever. “You don’t really seem like the type to enjoy going to Mass.”

“I can too! If that’s what you’re into!” Charlie looked around the church, until her eyes just latched onto the altar where the hanging cross was placed which she took a few steps toward. “I am also okay with the whole thing about worshiping a method of torture. Oh shit, did I just blaspheme again?”

“Kinda, I guess?” Vaggie found herself smiling a little. This girl was so dense. “But God’s the forgiving type now so I’m sure He’ll let it slide.”

“Phew, okay! …Wait, what do you mean now?”

“It’s a long story. Seriously.” Vaggie flicked a glance to the double doors of the church that were now closed again. She heard no one else coming, but… “So is this club happening right now or what?”

Charlie seemed to have been stunned at the answer, but quickly recovered with another of her smiles that always shone so bright. (She must have had one heck of a dentist). “It’ll be starting really soon! I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, and we also got a bunch of snacks!” Then a pause. “Oh fuck. I mean! Sorry, for the cursing, but if you were busy with church stuff…”

A quick wave of her hand, and then Vaggie turned to face the altar. “It’ll be fine. Just…give me a moment then?”

“Oh, of course! Please, don’t let me get in your way.” Charlie remained standing in the aisle, hands clasped and blinking innocently.

“You kinda are in the way.”

“Ah!”

And after Charlie finally stepped away from the altar, Vaggie stepped up to it to clasp her hands. She took a deep breath, trying to fall back into routine. It still meant something to her, in the end.

Even if her place in the world had fallen apart, and even if those whom she barely called friends before had effectively left her behind. Lute had never even apologized for her injury either. All of it, just swept under the rug. 

Maybe a new environment would be best. At the most, maybe she prayed for a better outcome.

“En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amen.”

She closed her eyes as her hands made the sign of the cross, from the middle of her forehead to her heart. But even in the silence, she could just somehow hear Charlie’s stare.

She turned, and saw Charlie looking at her with wide eyes. “Uh…what?”

“Wow… Is that ancient Latin?!”

“...I’m just Hispanic.”

--

After leaving through the church doors, Charlie was already going on and on about the so-called ‘activities’ they’d be doing at the rehabilitation club.

“We’ll be doing a lot of bonding activities and some trust exercises! I was also thinking of pairing everyone up for a three-legged race at the campus’ track, but my dad said we’d need to get some consent forms signed. Then it should be smooth-sailing from there!”

“Sounds, um, experimental,” Vaggie offered. How this was supposed to cure anyone of their debilitating addictions, probably not even God Himself knew. Still, she smiled all the same. “My doctor said I can’t do any strenuous exercise for like the next three weeks so I might have to skip out on that.”

“Oh, no problem! We can do arts and crafts instead!”

Then, just as they got to the bottom steps, Charlie stopped, then turned to gently grasp at Vaggie’s hands.

The sudden skin-to-skin contact made Vaggie flush under her bandage. Hopefully she wouldn’t faint from the sudden blood rushing through. “Uh…”

“Sorry for being so forward, but thank you for giving me a chance. Also, um…” Charlie laughed nervously, then cleared her throat. But in the process, she sounded more like she was gagging instead. “I mean! Even after the club, would you like to grab something to eat? Maybe watch a movie or…?”

Vaggie had to be sure of this. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Charlie giggled again, and the motion made the pentagram necklace slip out again, the sunlight gleaming on its fine points. “Well, I was hoping…”

There was a lot to process here.

Charlie was hitting on her—no, outright asking her out on a date. Outside of her church’s steps. Wearing a pentagram necklace. And she was doing all that with another girl?

Suffice to say, Vaggie was a little impressed.

“If I say yes, would that brighten up your day?”

Such an answer must have definitely sent Charlie into hyperdrive. Her red contacts were shining, almost demonic-like in her happiness. “Oh, fuck yeah!!” And then, Charlie did an adorable fist-pump in the air.

Which promptly upended her messenger back to dump out all of its contents onto the church’s steps.

It was a whole mess of what Vaggie’s elders would have called devil memorabilia. From books of demonology (several volumes in a series?) to candles and multicolored crystals, to even more pentagram symbols and other strange sigils—on pins and other necklaces. There was even a Ouija board here, one that was definitely well-used going by the scratches on its surface, and what looked to be a statue of Baphomet.

Even a few tarot cards had flown off, Charlie desperately grabbing at them while simultaneously trying to cover up all the objects of sin and paganism with her body. “D-Don’t look! I’m just… borrowing this from the library! For research! Historical research! I’m not a Satanist, I swear!”

Vaggie happened to catch one of the tarot cards, its surface depicting a tall, standing owl with a crown on its head. She looked at the lettering on it. “Ars Goetia?”

Charlie looked up at Vaggie from the ground, once again looking like a kicked puppy—a demonic kicked puppy with red eyes. “I’m sorry… I just really like the occult…I just think it’s neat…”

With that, Vaggie sighed, then fully turned around on the steps to face Charlie. She knelt down to help pick up the rest of the items, her hands not burning as she picked them up. 

“Did I ever tell you that I think your goat charms are cute?”

[starg0ld]

Fragmenta Vitae (II)

art creds: drosaxx on twt

Albedo x Lumine

❝ After albedo inevitably loses control, he pays the highest price by killing the person dearest to him. He will try to make amends by making use of his darkest alchemical knowledge. ❞

Cw: death, murder, mourning, obsession, blood, dead body, angst

n/a: It was REALLY hard to envision a possible Neo-Khaenri’ah--- I had to ask for help from CHATgpt chat because worldbuilding and I don’t get along very well-- However, it's still fun to imagine an alternative version of future Teyvat :D. Of course, I want to clarify once again that this story takes place in an AU set after the end of the game canon story. The war ended with Lumine’s death, who had to face Albedo as her final challenge, concluding with her death (poor Aether, he's now sad and alone-) I hope this point is clear enough (feedbacks are much appreciated), anyway, many more characters and lore have to appear yet. BTW!!! Rhinedottir is such an interesting character, I can't wait for her to officially appear in game. I need more Khaenri’ah and its people's lore. I also like to imagine Albedo and Lumine like this in my story: (also see below)

word count: 4473

Teyvat was progressively evolving. After the last great war, nations were getting back on their feet, mainly through mankind aid. Years passed quickly, evolution just as rapid through the succession of generations. The conflict against the Heavenly Principles and the Abyss Order ended in glory, imprinted as one of the most tragic and grandiose events in history, though, of course within a cost; many creatures fell, whole systems were destroyed. Celestia, the ever present force that loomed over Teyvat for centuries, was no longer a forced control in the skies. The shackles imposed by the gods had been broken, and in their absence, humanity seized control of its own destiny. Finally, with the divine rule gone, the world no longer belonged to the heaven's thrones, but to those who roamed the earth.

Khaenri’ah, once the cursed nation led by no deity, raised again, reborn from its own ashes it shone more beautifully and majestically than ever. Now, Neo-Khaenri’ah flourished in this new era, becoming a beacon of innovation, a testament to what a civilization could achieve when unburdened by the interference of higher powers.

Towering spires of brass and steel, adorned with intricate engravings of their lost history. All around were scattered floating platforms powered by etheric energy, defying gravity through advanced machinery, gears and cogs embedded into buildings, constantly turning like the beating heart of the city. Stained glass windows gracefully depicted past legends, illuminated by phosphorescent gas lamps. Walking through its streets seemed to cross another reality entirely. The technological industry was the most advanced in Teyvat, just as it used to be; a blend of alchemical engineering and steam powered innovation, automaton workers with intricate filigree plating, operating complex machinery. Airships and mechanical chariots could be spotted gliding through the sky, their engines humming with a mix of steam and arcane energy. Institutions were instituted “Aetheric Conduits”: massive pipelines running through the city, distributing power to homes, factories, and vehicles, along the “Luminary Core”, a vast central generator, pulsing like a mechanical heart, the key to Neo-Khaenri’ah’s survival.

Khaenri’ah became a meritocratic society, led by the monarchy and its council, established by exponents who rose trough their intellect. Guilds of artificers, inventors, and scholars, each competing to push the boundaries of technology. There was a certain reverence for lost knowledge, with grand libraries housing texts preserved from even before the cataclysm. Progress swept across the land, driven by the minds of those who had long been denied the chance to create freely.

Among them was the Kreideprinz Albedo.

With Celestia’s threats no longer hanging over his head, the former alchemist could finally push the limits of his knowledge without restraint, although aware that every mystical force must have boundaries. The Art of Khemia, once a forbidden and dangerous craft, was now his to explore without fear, along with several other alchemists and scientists who enjoyed playing with reality’s restrictions. Albedo could have become a feared and respectable figure in his new life, after all, he had full faculties on that matter, but the latter rather opted to open a humble alchemical emporium in the new nation of Khaenri'ah. Yet, despite the infinite possibilities before him, his focus remained singular: Lumine.

The mysterious outlander returned to him, yet not entirely. Lumine’s soul was there, but incomplete. Her body was perfect, yet empty of the memories that made her who she once was. Sometimes, looking at her, Albedo saw the woman he madly loved years before, other times, he saw a stranger who was still learning about the world all around them. And still, he fully dedicated himself to her. Under his wing and guidance, Lumine had to learn everything from the beginning: language, culture, even the simplest of concepts, everything was foreign to her. The young girl observed the world with the wide eyed wonder of a child, yet there was something different about her. She was not like an ordinary newborn soul, she learned quickly, her mind grasping ideas at a speed that defied nature, absorbing knowledge as if it had always been within her, merely waiting to be unlocked. Still, the process was slow, but Albedo was patient. He became Lumine’s guide, her mentor, her anchor in a world that should have somehow been familiar but was now entirely unknown. He spoke to her with gentle tones, enunciating words with care, repeating phrases until they took root in her mind. Then, one day, she spoke her first word. It was clumsy, a fusion of syllables that didn’t quite fit together; a muddled attempt at “Master” and “Albedo.” The pronunciation was incorrect, but the intent was clear. Albedo froze, for a moment, he simply stared, as if doubting his own hearing. Then, slowly, his expression softened, his lips parting in a quiet exhale of astonishment. A small, genuine smile ghosted across his face.

“You’re learning.” The blonde man murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Encouraged from his tender expression, Lumine repeated his name again, slowly, carefully, guiding her tongue toward the correct sounds. Her attempts were hesitant at first, imperfect, but persistent. Every time she spoke, Albedo listened intently, his eyes filled with quiet admiration. It became a game between them, a ritual of sorts where Lumine would try, and Albedo would correct, and no matter how garbled the result, he never expressed frustration. There was no impatience in that kind man, only quiet encouragement and the deep, unspoken warmth of someone who was simply grateful to hear her voice at all. With time, Lumine’s vocabulary expanded. Simple words became full sentences, fragmented thoughts became coherent ideas, and through it all, Albedo remained at her side, watching as his most successful creation rebuilt herself from the pieces of a past she could not recall.

Yet sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, flickers of that lost life would surface. Memories would come in brief, fleeting bursts, too fast to grasp, too distant to understand. They struck without warning, leaving Lumine disoriented, shaken. And when they did, Albedo was always there, steady, unmovable. He would not let the love of his life fall again, he would be whatever she needed him to be; a teacher, a guardian, a friend. And no matter how long it took, he would not stop until she would've reclaimed what was hers.

Lumine was an endless source of curiosity. Everything fascinated her, every strange instrument in Albedo’s lab, every chemical reaction, the shimmering liquids in glass vials, the intricate symbols etched into his research notes, every scrap of knowledge she could pry from his mind. Even the simple act of speaking was still new to her, and though her words sometimes tumbled out in a peculiar, mismatched way, that young woman was relentless in her questioning.

"Why is this bubbling?"

"What happens if I mix these?"

"Why do you look like that when you think?"

It never ended.

At first, Albedo found her enthusiasm endearing, even oddly amusing, answering her with the patience of a seasoned teacher. But it didn’t take long for him to realize that Lumine’s curiosity was boundless, not just in the things she wished to learn, but in the attention she demanded. When he needed to focus on his experiments, to carefully measure reagents or record delicate results, Lumine was still there, demanding his care. And when she didn’t get it?

That woman hated being ignored. If Albedo ever dared to turn his focus elsewhere, she would make sure to drag it back to her, one way or another. It started with insistent tugging at his sleeve, then persistent questioning, her voice growing louder and more urgent the longer he failed to respond. And when those didn’t work? Then came the destruction; glass shattered, papers scattered, carefully calibrated instruments knocked askew, ink splattered across his carefully recorded notes. Delicate equipment, pieces he had spent weeks, if not months refining suddenly found itself striked to the ground in the wake of her frustration. If he turned his back for too long, Lumine would throw a tantrum, huffing and stomping as if she could will his focus back onto her. And when tantrums alone didn’t work, the mess she brought escalated, spilling liquids, toppling beakers, sometimes even outright grabbing his work and flinging it aside. If denied attention, Lumine didn’t simply sul; she retaliated.

The first few times, Albedo tried to reprimand her, using a pondered authority. His voice had taken on that careful, measured sternness he used when scolding Klee for her reckless explosions, whenever her enthusiasm turned reckless when his younger sister was younger.

"Lumine, you can’t break things just because you want my attention."

But the golden haired woman only glared up at him, her chestnut eyes gleaming with defiance. Then, the next time the alchemist ignored her for too long, she broke something more valuable, as if testing whether his rules truly applied to her or not. That discipline only fueled the rebellion. If he told her not to do something, Lumine would do it twice as much, staring at him defiantly as if daring him to stop her. Eventually, Albedo had to accept a painful truth: Lumine would never change. It became clear, after a handful of ruined experiments, that reprimanding her was a fruitless endeavor. No amount of logical explanation, no carefully worded reasoning about the importance of patience, would ever deter her. No explanation of "This experiment is important, please be patient." would ever stop her. She was a force of nature, one that he simply had to work around. Lumine was not one to wait. She was not one to be ignored. The lab, once an orderly sanctuary of precision, slowly became something else. A disaster zone. Cabinets missing their doors, papers littering the floor, bits of broken glass swept hastily into corners, stacks of notes displaced, fragile instruments set aside where they were less likely to be destroyed, shelves rearranged to keep the most breakable items out of reach. Albedo could only sigh as he salvaged what he could, shaking his head at the wreckage left in her wake.

The wise alchemist had to resort to the same ploy he used with Klee many years earlier: hanging a sign on the door of the workshop while he was working, so Lumine could understand that there was a reason if the door was locked. At first she threw tantrums, screaming like a child, then her tactic became destroying the rest of the house. Albedo, worried that Lumine could even get to the point of hurting herself if left unsupervised for too long, came up with the idea of leaving her some “homework”, something to study and with keeping herself busy while he had to work. Against all his expectations, Lumine was quite intrigued by the topics he assigned her. She tried her best to meet her master's expectations, completing all the work Albedo assigned her. Using this strategy, Lumine learned a lot of valuable information with such incredible speed in a brief amount of time.

Despite all the mess, despite the frustration, there was something almost… endearing about it. Albedo always found himself making allowances for that girl. Despite all her chaos, Lumine listened. Every answer the Kreideprinz gave, every patient explanation about why a chemical changed color, why certain metals conducted energy, why the stars burned in the sky or the mysteries of the constellations, she absorbed it all, like a sponge drinking in water. As much as she craved his attention, Lumine also craved knowledge. Albedo found himself, more often than not, pausing his work to explain things, answering her endless stream of "why's" and "how's," knowing full well that in the moment he'd have stopped, something else would end up broken. Lumine was exhausting,unpredictable, at times infuriating, she was also impossible to ignore. But for all the mess she caused, she always listened.

Despite that funny, somehow warm routine, Albedo never allowed himself peace. His mind, ever restless, was consumed by a singular obsession: restoring Lumine’s memories. He spent countless hours in his lab, eyes scanning over research notes, fingers stained with ink as he scribbled theories and calculations. Every failed attempt only spurred him to push harder, to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Art of Khemia, as if somewhere within its forbidden knowledge lay the key to bringing Lumine back in full to him. His work became his existence, his thoughts endlessly circling the same question: Where had he gone wrong? Lumine was alive, her body was whole, her soul tethered to this world, but she was not the same. The spark that once defined her was dimmed, flickering in and out of reach. Her gaze, though filled with curiosity, lacked recognition. And Albedo, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, could not accept it. It was like she wasn't the same person he fell in love with decades ago, but every time he chased away this thought.

The experiments were meticulous, precise, driven by an urgency he could not shake. Potions, rituals, alchemical transmutations, each test carried out with the utmost care, each failure met with gritted teeth and renewed determination. At first, Albedo was careful to shield Lumine from the weight of his desperation. He spoke to her in soft reassurances, masking his exhaustion behind a calm demeanor. But no amount of control could hide the dark circles beneath his teal eyes, the rigid set of his jaw whenever an experiment yielded nothing but silence. Lumine watched him with quiet confusion, sensing the depth of his frustration but not fully understanding it. She would tilt her head, studying him as her master paced the lab, muttering theories under his breath. Occasionally, she would reach out, fingers brushing against his sleeve in a tentative attempt to pull him from his thoughts.

"Why do you look so sad?" She once asked, her voice uncertain, as if she was struggling to grasp the meaning of the question herself.

Albedo had frozen at her words, staring at her as if she had struck him. Then, with a forced smile, he merely shook his head and returned to his work.

It wasn’t just her memories that were missing. The realization crept in slowly, dread settling deep within Albedo’s bones. Lumine’s soul itself was fractured, as if some vital pieces had been left behind, lost in the void between life and death. He had brought her back, but not completely. She was like a mirror that had been shattered and imperfectly pieced together, some fragments forever gone. The weight of it was crushing. His mind refused to accept the possibility that this was irreversible. There had to be a way. There had to be something he hadn’t considered yet. He worked harder, slept less, ate only when his body became exhausted. Even when his hands trembled from exhaustion, even when the ink on his pages blurred from tired eyes, he continued.

But for all his efforts, Lumine remained the same. Despite it all, she sought him out. Even without her memories, without the experiences that had once shaped her, Lumine was drawn to him. When Albedo disappeared into his work for too long, she would come find him. She would sit in the lab, watching him with patient, quiet fascination, or tug at his sleeve when he had gone too long without acknowledging her presence. She did not know why she trusted that man, only that she did, he was all she ever had, her only family. Perhaps, on some level, something in her remembered. Or perhaps it was simply that Albedo, for all his silence and brooding intensity, was a constant, a presence that felt safe. She did not understand the grief in his eyes when he looked at her like that, she did not understand the weight that lonely alchemist carried in his heart. But she stayed by his side nonetheless.

When Rhinedottir, Albedo's mother and creator, discovered what her former apprentice had done, her reaction was anything but simple.

The cryptic alchemist returned to the nation she had lived in for many centuries ago, after the war against the gods ended and Khaenri’ah got as stable as before. Although the relationship between her and Albedo, “her most successful son”, has always been complicated, the two had learned to coexist almost peacefully together. Both were highly respected alchemists in their homeland, each working on their own projects, though often combining their miraculous faculties. Rhinedottir saw Albedo as a man now, he learned a great deal from her teachings and became an alchemist in her own wake. Despite Rhinedottir being as cold as ever, she was more than satisfied with how far her best creation had come. Albedo, who had always longed to be reunited with her, learned to acknowledge his master's mistakes, without ignoring that this woman was the closest family he could ever have. The homunculus was silently grateful for his creator eventually coming back, and while her attitude was as icy as ever, something changed. Rhinedottir knew how to show that she was still a mother, even if in her own way.

Despite being aware of the witch's vast knowledge, Albedo had always kept his greatest plan a secret from her, even though she herself could have been able to help him with her wealthy skills. But he couldn't imagine her fury when she’d found out, after all, there was a part of him that still feared her reaction and judgment, however inevitable.

But now the woman stood just before him, in the middle of his lab. Eyes narrowed, her presence as imposing as ever. The silence between them stretched thick with tension. When Rhinedottir finally spoke, her voice was laced with both disapproval and something more, something contemplative. "You used the Art of Khemia… to create life. Without my knowledge. Without my guidance." Shock and fury battled for dominance in her expression, yet beneath the surface, a more subtle emotion flickered, one that Albedo recognized all too well. A hint of pride, the same rare light that rarely manifested back in the days when he was still an apprentice seeking alchemy mentorship, when he was still learning about the world in the early years of his long existence. Rhinedottir's words were measured, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to them. The Kreideprinz had expected her anger, and he was not disappointed. The older alchemist continued, stepping forward, her gaze scrutinizing her child like one of her unfinished experiments, a feeling that Albedo already knew too well. "Do you even understand what you’ve done? Do you understand the consequences you may have unleashed?"

Albedo, ever composed, stood his ground. He did not flinch under her scrutiny, though he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. Of course he had already anticipated this reaction. "I understand perfectly," The man replied evenly, though a part of him wondered if he truly did. "I took every precaution-"

"Precaution?" Rhinedottir’s scoff was bitter. "You dare speak of precautions when you tamper with the fundamental laws of existence? I taught you to be cautious, to understand the seriousness of the Art of Khemia, and yet you…" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, her voice no less serious. She was furious. Yes, Albedo knew she would be, but there was something else in her gaze. Beneath the indignation, beneath the rebuke, was a glimmer of something almost… admiring. "You wielded it with reckless abandon. You ignored the risks. You defied discipline, and for what? Love? Grief?"

Albedo’s hands clenched at his sides. He had nothing to say to that. No words that would make her understand. But she already did. Rhinedottir studied her perfect creation for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curled, not quite into a smile, but into something close.

"Impressive…" The woman murmured, almost to herself, while watching the other homunculi in the room next Albdo’s lab, from the crack in the door she could glimpse Lumine dancing with a broom, humming a playful tune to herself as she was immersed in her little world. That sentence sent a shiver through Albedo. It was not a compliment, not exactly. It was an acknowledgment, a grudging respect for the audacity of what he had done, for the skill it required. But the moment passed, and her expression hardened once more.

"Listen to me, Albedo." Rhinedottir’s tone was firm, brooking no argument. "You will take responsibility for what you have created. This is not an experiment you can discard when it becomes inconvenient." Sounded almost hilarious, said by her, the same woman who had abandoned him, as well as her other “failed” experiments. But albedo did not dare to protest about it.

The younger alchemist bristled at her implication. "I never intended-"

"Ensure that Lumine is safe." Rhinedottir interrupted. "That she is stable, that she does not become… something beyond your control." The implications of those words were clear, after all, they both were homunculi. It was a brilliant paradox; an artificial being created by another artificial being, a synthetic life generated by another synthetic one. A snake biting its own tail.

Albedo met her gaze, his resolve unwavering. "I will."

A beat of silence passed between mother and son, heavy with unspoken words, but clear as if they had been shouted. Then, with a final glance at him, in one last, lingering moment of scrutiny, Rhinedottir turned away.

"See that you do." She warned, and just like that, the woman made it clear that their conversation was over. Albedo lowered his head slightly, not daring to twist the finger in the wound any further.

Before leaving the alchemist's emporium, Rhine stood in front of Lumine, deeply staring into her golden eyes as the girl returned the glare with puzzled look, only able to produce a confused sound back. For a moment, albeit very brief, Rhinedottir's eyes softened before lending a hand on Lumine’s shoulder. Perhaps for a moment the alchemist Gold remembered something, although distant. Then she turned away, enveloped in her icy aura as ever as the sound of her heels followed her out of the door.

Albedo kept standing there for a little more after his master had left, his thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, defiance, and something else. He couldn't help but think about that look, somehow... proud? He had never seen her like that in his entire life. Something that felt an awful lot like vindication.

Once they were both alone Lumine approached her teacher with uneven steps, her voice carrying a peculiar lilt as she spoke. "AU-be-do!" The girl enunciated in a funny, exaggerated way. "Who was that odd person who just passed by?"

Albedo turned toward her, an amused yet still shaken expression crossing his face. He recognized that she was referring to Rhinedottir, but for a brief moment he hesitated. How could he explain her in a way that Lumine would understand? The alchemist studied her face, innocent yet inquisitive, her wide eyes filled with curiosity rather than wariness. With a small sigh, he finally answered. "That woman… is someone very important to me. Her name is Rhinedottir, and she's the one who created me."

Lumine blinked, tilting her head as she processed his words. "Important…" She hummed back, repeating the word as if tasting it on her tongue, though the sentence remained incomplete in her mind.

Albedo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips at her attempt to grasp the concept. "Yes, important." He clarified gently. "She's my creator, and she taught me many things." For a moment, Albedo considered how much he should tell her. Lumine was technically still mentally young, how much of his past, of Rhinedottir’s role, could she truly comprehend?

Lumine’s expression remained thoughtful as she repeated his words, albeit with a furrowed brow. "She created you…" Her small fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt before looking up again. "Then… Why was she angry?"

There it was. The question Albedo had been dreading. She was referring to Rhinedottir’s earlier fury, the way her sharp words had lashed at him like a whip, it was obvious that from the other room Lumine had heard something, after all, she wasn’t any fool. The blonde man let out a slow breath, trying to choose his words carefully. "It’s… complicated." His voice waw measured. "My master was angry because she was worried about me. She didn’t want me to do certain things because they could be dangerous…"

Lumine’s frown deepened, confusion flickering across her features. Albedo hesitated before bringing himself closer to her. "She’s just… protective, I suppose. The way a mother would be angry if her child did something reckless."

For a few moments, the younger homunculi remained silent, processing his words, when she spoke her voice was serious. "And what did you do wrong? Do I have to be angry too?"

Albedo let out a small laugh at her question, shaking his head. There was something both endearing and worrisome about her directness. His hand reached out, fingers ruffling through her hair in a familiar, affectionate gesture. Lumine, for once, didn’t push him away. "No, no, you don’t have to be angry… " He reassured her, his tone gentle. "I did something I shouldn’t have, and that’s why she was upset. But you haven’t done anything wrong, my dear. Don’t worry, alright?" Albedo's voice was softer now. "Just focus on learning and growing."

Lumine nodded solemnly, as if absorbing his words like a sacred promise. Then, with a shift in mood, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Would you give me a hand with that book you gave me to read?"

Albedo’s smile widened at the request. It pleased him to see her so eager to learn. "Of course, my dear." The Kreideprinz replied, settling beside her. "I’d be glad to help. What part are you having trouble with?"

The blonde girl wasted no time in opening the book, pointing to a paragraph that had given her trouble. As Albedo guided her through the sentences, correcting her pronunciation and explaining the meanings of unfamiliar words, a sense of normalcy returned, if only briefly. He forced himself to focus on the present, to be patient as Lumine stumbled through her reading. But beneath his calm exterior, his thoughts remained tangled. The turmoil in his heart had not disappeared. Even as he sat beside his most sacred treasure, helping that innocent girl navigate the words on the page, his mind swirled with the weight of Rhinedottir’s anger, the burden of his own decisions, and the uncertainty that loomed ahead. The older alchemist's fingers tensed slightly over the edge of the book. He had told Lumine not to worry, but he knew, deep down, that things would not remain this peaceful forever.

If only Lumine could have known.

couldn't find the artist, please if you know tell me!

[thefugitivemango]

A letter arrives to Bey’ron, postmarked from Pandaria of all places. There are grummle-prints all over the envelope, which at one point was probably in great condition! “I’m sorry that I left. I felt trapped — by my armor, by the politics, by the... visions... I left to the only place I know to clear my head and my soul. I really did love you... I still do. I will never forget Midsummer, years ago. I hope someday you can forgive me.”

[[ Interestingly enough, I have a response to this prompt ready, co-written in part by @kidcatgemini. We were going to post it later on separately on its own, but with some amending, it felt proper to post it up in response to this! ]]

~*~

Night finally fell over Eversong. With the day concluded, Bey’ron shed his formal attire, causing his mantle to levitate up from his shoulders. He disrobed, slipping instead into a more comfortable evening lounger robe; These little comforts had become borderline necessities to him, over the years. After going without such things most of his life, they reinforced the progress he’d made in his life. Tonight’s robes were white-- unusual for him. Yet the golden flame-patterned filigree around the seams and deep red streaks at the collar and cuffs felt on-brand enough for him. He had already slipped it on and tied it closed, before he realized where he’d gotten in. A Midsummer gift… from Ina’thia. 

He stood in silence a moment, eyeing the robe in the full-length mirror that stood tall and proud beside his eveningwear shrank. He hated this. He hated ALL of this. It was one thing to have something taken from you - everything else could be replaced. But not her. The void she left behind wasn’t just a vacancy. It was a cold-yet-burning tightness in his chest. He should’ve known better than to let anyone close like that again. He’d hoped Ina’thia would be different. A stronger, deeper bond that could withstand the test of time. The foibles of refamiliarizing himself with the notion of a relationship. The hardships of disagreements and conflicting interests. 

He was wrong.

A part of him wanted to rip the robe off. Burn it. But at the same time, he wouldn’t dare. It was one of the few things he had left of her. And for as much pain as he felt now… they’d had some good times. The robe was a gift from last year’s festival. She’d picked it out for him, after learning he collected them. It made for a fine addition to his nightwear collection, he had to agree. The year before that, their relationship was only just beginning. At least, the positive turn of their relationship was. He remembered the conversation well. Of nobility. Of doing what was right for Quel’Thalas. He’d found such common values in her he’d never stopped to consider before. It was then, and events like that, which painted the stern and impatient Knight-Lord in a new light for him. The start of something greater.

He snapped back, shaking himself free from the memories. They provided only so much comfort. The more he thought about them, the more it hurt when he finally stopped. He settled on wearing the robe all the same, stepping away from the mirror as he approached his bookshelf. He needed something to read to distract him from his own thoughts, tonight. But the opportunity to even select a distraction was robbed of him, as a knock came at his front door. So late! Who would dare disturb him at this hour!? He considered sending the felstalkers to deal with whatever intruder was present… but thought better of it. 

Instead, he waved his hand to trace a runic sigil in the air. It lingered, fel-green magic forming a window. A viewfinder. At the same time, fel green eye materialized from a portal down at his front door. It darted about, settling on a figure for a moment-- before it burst in a small controlled arcane 'pop'! He recognized the tall, slender figure. A Nightborne. Aelissah. A portal opened in place of the eyeball, leading into the upper rooms of the Manor, where Bey'ron sat waiting.

The Nightborne stepped through and pulled back her hood to expose her dark skin, ears and glowing arcane markings. Her white eyes set on the Magister, making no commentary on his attire. It was late after all. The portal closed behind her promptly.

“I regret to be bothering you at this hour, Lord Everblaze.” Aelissah said, tone even.

“Nonsense, Miss Ambroise.” the Magister replied, returning the gaze. “You bring news?”

The Nightborne’s brows knit together, her gaze meeting his as she delivered the report. Straight to the point; she figured he wouldn’t appreciate hesitation. She extended her hand, holding out a small, well-worn envelope very familiar to Bey’ron.

“I traced the letter through Pandaria, as you ordered. There’s a good chance it was written before N’Zoth’s fall. And considering how hard the Old God corruption made it to fully trace back to origin… I’d say that’s likely the case.” she frowned, almost apologetically. “However, I did manage to get my hands on the list of casualties, and can confirm that her name does not appear on them.”

“... Hm.”

Bey’ron’s initial response was a little underwhelming. Even for him. He took the envelope, and eyed it pensively. With a sigh, he tapped his chin with his bare, calloused hand, for a contemplative moment. His expression was unreadable, aside from his eyes glowing just a bit duller.

“... Damn her.” he muttered, turning from Aelissah.

He went straight for the wetbar just along the left-hand wall, and set the letter down before pouring himself a drink. His hands shook, glass decanter clinking against the cup he slowly filled. Slowly, his facade fell apart.

“She’s�� a fool. A fool!” he scoffed. “Running off amidst such chaos? Away from the safety and security of this place? This manor, in which I so graciously accommodated her?”

He wore a scowl as he turned back to Aelissah, eyes flaring now in anger… or grief. Both, perhaps. He shook his head.

“That list… is it complete? You’re certain of it?” he asked. “Or is it just a list of confirmed dead? Because if she’s gotten herself killed out there, and no one’s found her, she… she wouldn’t…”

He huffed in frustration-- before throwing his glass across the room! It crashed into a bookcase, shattering into half a dozen pieces. Felflames danced along his hands, now clenched in fists, as he stared aimlessly. He was upset, certainly. Shaken by the news.

Aelissah’s ears flickered as the glass shattered, but otherwise remained unaffected by Bey’ron’s outburst. 

“The list was last updated two days ago. The count was taken from The Vale of Eternal Blossom, Uldum and Ny'alotha.” she answered… a brief hesitation befalling her before continuing. “...To be frank, it does not include those swallowed up whole by Void tears. I believe the Alliance has the Ren’dorei looking into that. However, Dawnblade’s name was not on the list of registered combatants. It is possible she made her way straight through to another part of Pandaria, but there are no leads to go on in terms of actually finding her.”

Bey’ron slumped down into his chaise, hunched over as he listened. Ears wilted in grief, yet flickering to indicate he was paying attention. He buried his face into his palm.

“So one way or another… you’re telling me she’s gone.” he scoffed, frustration well-evident in his tone. “There’s nothing else? No possible leads? No matter how small, she just… vanished? How many people have you questioned about her? Anyone? How--”

He clenched a fist… then relaxed it. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips as he slowly shook his head. He leaned back, brushing loose strands of hair from his face as he stared off at the far wall. He was never a very expressive elf, generally hiding his true emotions behind that nigh-sinister smirk of his. But now, he wore no such mask. He looked… weary. Broken. Hopeless.

“... How could she do this to me…?” he mumbled, rhetorically. “She wanted for nothing here, but left anyway. Are void-ravaged warfronts truly so preferable to my hospitality? To me?”

His eyes, now dull once more, flickered to Aelissah. He sighed.

“You met her, once. Once I know of, in any case. Do you recall?” he asked. “What do you remember of her?”

“I remember her being confident and decisive.Good at giving orders and getting others to follow her lead,” she said, “but not much beyond that. I was mostly concentrating on approaching my target unseen, then trying to unimpale myself from a tree before someone decided to use Light magic in the Void filled area.”

She shook her head.

“I did not get to know her on a personal level, so I cannot tell if her current decisions and actions match her personality or not.”

The Magister waved his hand, dismissively-- almost sorry he asked. He shook his head, as he exhaled a sigh.

"I'm not asking if you think this is in character for her. I already know it is." he said, sinking down into the chaise. "She's a dragonhawk, Miss Ambroise. Gorgeous, cunning… dangerous if you don't approach her the right way. So tenacious… so elegant…"

He let out another lamenting sigh of resignation, covering his face once more with his hand. 

"... I was the foolish one, for thinking any cage, no matter how grand, would be suitable for such a free and indomitable spirit. Of course she'd leave!”

He reached out towards the table beside his chaise lounge for his glass-- only to then remember he’d thrown it across the room. Another sigh. 

“And now… she's gone." he muttered to himself.

He stood up once more, and returned to the wetbar. He took up the decanter once more, but… then simply set it down again. His palms pressed to the bar’s edge, as he stared at the worn grummle-printed envelope in a moment of silence.

“... That will be all, Miss Ambroise.”

He didn’t look to see her leave. He wasn’t even sure if she’d left before he ordered it. It didn’t matter. Instead he plucked the envelope up once more, and withdrew the letter inside. His eyes flickered over the words, as if to commit each quillstroke to memory.

He’d find no distraction tonight.

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini / @aelissah belongs to her. @inathia for mention. ]]

[accio-victuuri]

M/M Book Recommendations Part III.

Title: The remaking of Corbin Wale

Author: Roan Parrish

My Thoughts:

This book is cozy. Just thinking about it makes me want to go back to the day I read this— Christmas time. Well, you don’ have to wait for Christmas to read this, just saying it’s that kind of book. Anyway, this story is about Alex who opens shop in his hometown. A fresh start and doing what he always wanted to, then one day the mysterious Corbin Wale comes in and changes everything. It’s one of those meet cutes that i’m a sucker for. ❤️ Alex gets to know Corbin, who seems to be followed by misfortunes and he also wants to know the truth about his drawings and who he really is. There is ALMOST no conflict between them, everything is so soft and nothing hurts. I like how Corbin changes, well, how they both change each other. That whole becoming a better person for someone you love thing. That’s it. If you want a sweet read, with just a tiny bit of ache then go for this.

Title: Shiver

Author: Jocelynn Drake

My Thoughts :

I read this book cause I was looking for the “bodyguard” trope. This one delivered. It’s simple, a really rich guy gets threatened and he gets a bodyguard to protect him. Only, he gets more than that 😏😏😏. This is book one of a series so you’ll get alot of other characters that you can get attached to, don’t worry, they will get their own books. It’s a fast read and one that you can pick up on a weekend and you’ll be set.

Title: Enemies of the State

Author: Tal Bauer

My Thoughts:

The President and his Bodyguard fall in love. That’s the selling point of this book BUT THIS IS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. Tal Bauer is an intelligent author and this one reads like a Netflix series that just happens to have an mlm pair. You have the in’s and out’s of the White house, politics, Russia, power dynamics, discrimination and terrorists. President Jack Spier is an American hero, who lost his wife in a War. He stayed single and spent his years in Politics, no scandals all his life and the perfect man to take the seat of a Leader. Then Ethan, a seasoned security detail gets assigned to him. This has the friends to lovers trope that makes you want to scream. The slow burn. The misunderstanding. Forbidden love with high as fuck stakes. THE ANGST. The hurt/comfort!!!!! I want all my ships to have an AU of this book 😭😭 Plus, the EXPLICIT scenes are just that. Explicit. HOT. What smut writers aim for HOT. 😂 Alot of things happen in this one book so be ready, there is almost something cinematic about this. You’ll understand once you’ve read it. This is book 1 of a Trilogy. You’re welcome. 🖤

Title: Twelfth Knight

Author: Victoria Sue

My Thoughts :

Merlin and Arthur. Need I say more? Yes. This story is set in the modern world with Arthur and his Knights. It may not be for everyone, like i think some people want something more serious, but the easy pace and language can be enjoyable. Merlin’s promise to Arthur before he died. There is so much more in this world in the books to come and I hope more fantasy aspect and plot in the Mix.

Title: The Watchmaker of Filigree street

Author: Natasha Pulley

My Thoughts:

There is something about the setting about this book that made me feel nostalgic even if I have no idea about their timeline at all. The author just painted this world, it’s people and every scene so beautifully. This book starts with Thaniel and a bomb explosion / a mysterious watch. Then the Watchmaker, Mori. I can’t say too much without spoiling stuff, but the fantasy aspect of this is Clairvoyance. How it’s worked into this story in itself is almost heart breaking. 😭 One thing I didn’t like is who the Villain was. I guess I wanted this “person” to be a different character or be “used” in a better way. The pairing, Thaniel/Mori has the whole age gap thing going on �� and Mori saying he has to be in London. Ugh. 😭😍 There’s a sequel that will come out this year and I am very excited.

Title: The Wolf and the Sparrow

Author: Isabelle Adler

My Thoughts:

This one is a standalone fantasy story and that in itself sold me. Add in the arranged marriage trope, AND MAAAAAAN. I’m all in. The main drivers of this story : the marriage, Callan grieving for his dead wife, Derek moving to this new kingdom and trying to fit in and A War that’s threatening all of them. I can’t even count the amount of “arranged” marriage fanfics I have read and this one seems fresh all over again. I love the relationship between the main characters and since it’s just one book- expect some insta love. There is a part in this story where they both get captured and I must say, it’s one of the best things I have read. That. Whole. Experience. Plus, when they do get together? IT WAS HOT. I knew it was coming, but it was so worth it. Even with all the “instalove”, there’s still a really good pay off. The fantasy part in this is not shown too much though. It could be expanded, I’m not gonna be mad if they suddenly announce a sequel. But yeah, If you want just one solid read, this is it.

Title: The Last Sun

Author: KD Edwards

My Thoughts :

So, this is one of those books that I put off reading all because everyone was saying it’s super good & I didn’t buy it. BUT I WAS SO WRONG. This book. This world is amazing. I have never read a book that has the whole “ Tarot Cards” as a main theme , and how it works into this book is the reason why I have always loved Fantasy books. This is Book 1 of a projected 9 book series and I am so excited how this will expand, I haven’t read the second book cause i wanna save it. I love the relationship between the two main characters, Rune and Brand. A scion and it’s sworn companion. Something about it reminds me of a bond like with a parabatai ( city of bones) . I love their banter. The characters in this are A+. LORD TOWER. Max. Quinn. Ciaran. ADDAM FUCKING SAINT NICHOLAS. You will get attached to them, I’m warning you. It’s a really solid fantasy/adventure story. Rune and Addam as a pair is so delicious, I find myself smiling every time they have scenes together. Their love, as it continues on will be SO PURE. I can see it. Do yourself a favor the same way I did, BUY THIS BOOK. Read it.

[stormscream]

Conflux, Finale

Commander St. Peter sat in her ready room, smiling as she stared down at the PADD in her hands.  On it, a picture of the three girls smiled back up at her: herself, the other Jessica, and Anafenza.  They’d taken it just the day before, that night in Hurricane Hal’s, as they waited to return to their homes.  She’d let the other Jess take the photo, and then gave a printed copy to Anafenza to keep along with her communicator.  Since the linkpearl had been fused to it during their rescue, it was inoperable…but it did make for a nice amulet of sorts for the woman. Temporal Prime Directive be damned, she thought; no one would be able to trace it anyway.  If anyone even believed the young au ra’s story anyway…

Her door chimed, and she looked up.  “Come in,” she called, and the doors parted to allow her first officer and science officer into the room.  Both wore concerned expressions on their faces, but Sano, her trill science officer, looked the most concerned.  “Dossu, Nizeri…what’s going on?”

Obruz Dossu looked to the other woman and nodded, the bajoran deferring to the science officer.  Nizeri Sano cleared her throat.  “Commander, there might have been a problem…”

“A problem?”

She nodded.  “We based all of our calculations on the assumption that the women were using our reality as one anchor, and that they were tethered to their own realities.  Every reality has a unique quantum signature; anything that originates there bears that same signature, and anything that comes from outside will have a conflicting signature.  The other Jessica and Anafenza had different quantum signatures, which we identified and based our calculations on.”

Jessica nodded.  “Ok, right.  Makes sense.  So what’s the problem?”

“We didn’t know about you!”

Jessica blinked, taken aback.  “Excuse me?”

Obruz cleared his throat. “We discovered an anomaly in your quantum signature.  And when we researched it more we…began to realize why the Andromeda mission – the one you and Wirstowx originated from – is classified at such high levels.”

“My signature is different…because I was born in the Andromeda Galaxy?”  Jessica shook her head.  “That doesn’t make sense…”

“It wouldn’t, no. Because, it shouldn’t make a difference. There would be some variance owing to location within the universe itself, but it would be similar enough.  No, yours is completely different.”  Sano shook her head.  “Yours has a known match, too.  You’re from the ‘Mirror Universe’.”

Jessica went wide-eyed at this, then turned to Obruz.  The bajoran first officer nodded.  “We checked with Admiral Scott; he confirmed it to us, after we pressed the importance of understanding why this went wrong.  The Andromeda mission didn’t just go to a different galaxy; it crossed the universal barrier as well.”

“He couldn’t give us access to the reports from that time, but he did explain a certain…’quantum inversion’ that occurred as ships passed through the gateway Starfleet used to get to Andromeda.  It wasn’t until the Aventine tried to meet the expedition using its conventional slipstream drive that the inversion was even discovered and studied.  But by the time we began to understand it, the expedition ended.  The ships returned home, and all of the data was classified.”

Jessica shook her head, her thoughts racing with implications.  Still, they hadn’t explained the problem to her.  “Alright…but how is this a problem?  What happened to the other two women?  What happened to Jessica and Anafenza?”

Sano shook her head and sighed.  “The calculations we used to anchor them here relied on our quantum signature.  Before we realized you were acting as the tether to them.  If we had been able to modify to match your quantum signature, it would have worked. We believe, when we inserted you into the equation, the navigational sensors used your unique quantum signature and anchored the women in the mirror universe.”

“Meaning?”

“We discovered a similar inversion during the transport process.”  Sano looked apologetically at Jessica.  “And before you ask; no, we can’t lock back on and rescue them.  We’re too far out of sync now.  They are where they are now.  I’m sorry.”

Jessica stared down at the picture of the three of them, then back up to her officers.  “So…where did we send them?”

“Near as we can tell,” the science officer replied, “some form of a parallel universe similar to their own reality.”  She bit her lip and frowned sadly.  “I’m…really sorry Jess.  If we’d known…”

Jessica shook her head, picking up the PADD again.  Her cheeks felt hot, and she feel tears forming.  “Please…get out.”

Once the door shut behind them, Jessica tossed the PADD to the side and, burying her face in her hands, began to sob.

 Meanwhile, elsewhere in time and space…

The transporter effect subsided, and Jessica St. Peter blinked, looking around at the city buildings surrounding her.  She expected to be deposited back in her home on Cap Au Diable, but perhaps the convergence and the transport technobabble she’d been subjected to didn’t have quite as accurate aim.  She stepped out from between the buildings, looking around.  That’s when it hit her.

All the banners.  The gold stars.  The images of an emperor standing victorious and benevolent, not towering over his minions with outstretched claws.  She wasn’t in the Rogue Isle.  She wasn’t even in Paragon City…

“Oh shit…” she said, with terrifying realization.  She immediately took to the skies with a whirlwind around her, making it harder to see her. She passed a banner and saw in large writing her fear’s confirmed.

Praetoria.

“I’m on Praetorian Earth,” she said, cursing again.  “I can’t be caught here, not if he is still alive here.  I need to get back, how to get back…”

She scanned the streets for the tell-tale ramshackle armor of the Resistance.  If anyone knows how to get back, she thought, they would know.  Just gotta bust a few heads…

 Elsewhere in time and space, further still…

The twinkling of chimes subsided, but the blinding light still filled Anafenza’s vision.  She squinted, looking around in confusion.

She was on a small hill, covered in bright pink and purple flowers.  Small roofs poked up out of the ground, the huts seemingly built built into the hills.  In the distance, on a small lake, rose a large castle with beautiful filigree wings spread behind it.  But the sky…the sky was nothing but blinding light.  No clouds, no sun – not even warmth, she noted, as she shivered in the breeze.

Small giggles echoed around her, and whispered, child-like voices from unseen speakers surrounded her.  “What’s this?  A mortal!”  “She just came from a pillar of light!”  “It’s a mortal!  Here!” “Is she a sin-eater?”

Anafenza spun around in confusion.  “Who’s there? Where am I?”

“Doesn’t know where she is? Poor thing…”  “I want to play!”  “No, it’s my turn!”

A cacophony of “my turns” smothered Ana, and she dropped to the ground in a panic.  The dark aether began to seep from her side as she slammed her eyes shut, the voices ringing in her horns.

Then, there was silence, and a small finger poked her in the nose.  Ana opened her eyes a smidge.

The small faerie-like being grinned at her, dark eyes regarding her playfully.  “Well you’re definitely not a sin eater,” it said with a happy giggle. “I’m Eo Aenc.  We’re going to have fun but first,” they looked up, then with a flutter moved forward to tug on Ana’s horns.  “We need to get moving!  I don’t want to turn my new friend into a leafman right now; mortals are so few in our realm.  Come, get up! They’re coming!”

“What…who…who is coming?” Ana scrambled to her feet and took a few staggering steps forward, turning to look behind her.

Large, grotesque creatures bounded towards her, their hides porcelain white, eyes dark and devoid of life.  The auras around them brightened the air, making it difficult to even look upon them.

Anafenza screamed, taking off after Eo Aenc into the relative safety of the realm of the fae, Il Mheg...

[whimsiesofanerdgirl]

My 2019 Bookish Favorites

FAVORITE 2019 DEBUT AUTHORS

What makes these debut authors great enough to be featured for this is the fact that I could not put them down once I started reading them! I probably devoured these within hours or a few days which is saying something considering sometimes a book can take me a week or two to get through. If you haven’t read these yet please go pick them up ASAP.

FAVORITE 2019 YA BOOK COVERS

100 Days of Sunlight by Abbie Emmons

I normally don’t care too much for contemporary covers, but this one just speaks to me on a personal level!

The colors are so happy and lively. I’ve also got a sweet spot for that waffle, laptop, and camera. <3

Failed Future by Elise Kova

You’ll notice about a handful of these covers have artistically drawn people, these tend to be my favorite. They’re just too beautiful to pass up!

In fact, these covers made me discover Elise Kova which are still on my TBR list, but fingers crossed that I read them this year! 🤞

Beyond the Black Door by A.M. Strickland

There’s something about the mystery behind closed doors…and keyholes.

Capturing the Devil by Kerri Maniscalco

This is one of my new(ish) favorite series in recent years. The cover artist does so well with creating a scene against the backdrop of the main character. Plus, a beautiful dress on a book cover is my kryptonite.

Empire of Grass by Tad Williams

I’m a sucker for everything green and high fantasy vibes.

Find Me Their Bones by Sara Wolf

The lantern in a dark cavern or ruin with what appears to be a dragon’s tail in the background - IT’S A MOOD!

House of Salt and Sorrows

I love everything beach or ocean themed and this cover has the perfect details along with that gorgeous font. *swoons*

Last of Her Name by Jessica Khoury

At first glance it seems like this is a somewhat boring cover, but look again! The title is made out of crystals which is really different for me to see on a book.

Resurrection Girls by Ava Morgyn

I’m not going to lie, I probably wouldn’t have even bothered putting this on the list but this is a perfect throwback to the first book in the Vampire Kisses series by Ellen Schreiber - take a look at exhibit B. There may not be a skeleton, but it definitely has the gothic atmosphere going on.

Sherwood by Meagan Spooner

A hooded archer with green clothing and a beautiful faraway backdrop, ‘nuff said.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

To be honest I could stare at this color scheme all day! One of the ya book subscription boxes also had featured this book with a purple background and it’s just as eye catching as this one.

The Beholder by Anna Bright

Yup, again with the nautical theme. YES, PLEASE!

The Cerulean by Amy Ewing

I’d mark this one as one of the more unique covers. The artist was clever in doing the contrast of light and airy dripping into the dark and starry night, kind of makes me think of a creative yin yang.

Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi

I absolutely adore a beautiful filigree cover. Give them all to me!

The Girl the Sea Gave Back by Adrienne Young

Okay…I’m guilty of loving archers. WHAT OF IT!?!?!?!

The Kiss Thief by L.J. Shen

Although I haven’t gotten around to reading these, I love me some royal stories…crowns and pretty fabrics are all the rage.

Light at the Bottom of the World by London Shah

OMG, I can’t believe I just realized that the author’s name is the same as where the story takes place. *facepalms* ANYWHO, I just love the glowy atmosphere of an underwater city with oceanic creatures swimming around. Sign. Me. Up.

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco

Alright, so there’s more covers with the whole light versus dark aspect, but I dig it!

The Weight of a Soul by Elizabeth Tammi

Though this is probably one of the more plain covers, it gives me Avatar feels.

The Winter of the Witch by Katherine Arden

I’m starting a buddy read of the first in this series and I’m excited to dive in! I’ve heard so many great things! Every one of these covers are perfect fantasy eye candy.

Unnatural Magic by C.M. Waggoner

Another less bejeweled cover, but it’s got the whole lady silhouette and symmetrical design going for it.

Vortex Visions by Elise Kova

Last, but not least…I added another of Elise Kova’s books. In my defense, I mentioned that all the covers caught my eye. Mmmkay?

FAVORITE 2019 HISTORICAL FICTION

Hands down, Kerri Maniscalco’s Capturing the Devil wins this category. I sometimes even fact check out of curiosity and she’s pretty spot on when it comes to inventions and events these books. Not to mention I ship Audrey and Thomas who were really tested on their love for each other in this concluding book to the Stalking Jack the Ripper series. Though I’m sad this series is over, I’m looking forward to what 2020 has in store for YA historical fiction.

2019 TOP 5 FANTASY READS

Caraval by Stephanie Garber

I have to admit, the storyline and the world sucked me in. I felt like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole and it was a delicious ride. All the scenes and magical abilities in this took me by surprise. It was like nothing I had ever read before so I give Stephanie Garber props for doing something so different from a lot of the YA already out there.

House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig

This is a triple threat with the categories I’m showcasing for 2019! For one, I freaking love the 12 dancing princesses fairy tale and Erin Craig remixed it into a lovely horror retelling. Like I said earlier, I was so invested in this one that I was reading late into the night (whoops).

The Beholder by Anna Bright

I couldn’t help but not be able to put this one down as well! I did feel like there was a little lack in a correct description of this one, due to the fact that she didn’t go see all of the possible suitors on the itinerary so it wasn’t exactly like the Bachelorette. Regardless, the first contender was a twist I did NOT see coming. I probably had a small idea, but it was still surprising. I adored the second man she met and that’s all I’m going to say because I don’t want to give too much away!

The Traitor’s Kiss by Erin Beaty

I CAN’T WAIT TO READ THE SEQUEL. Though I’m a little scared to read it because it sounds like I won’t be seeing much of the love interest but don’t let that stop you from reading the first book. I adore the whole hate to love dynamic and getting off on the wrong foot start to relationships. SO MUCH YESH.

The Wicked King by Holly Black

You’ll notice that I did not include the last book in The Folk of the Air trilogy…I felt like the second book was better than The Queen of Nothing which is a surprise because most of the time my favorite order is 1, 3, 2. There was so much rivalry and banter in the second book and I think that’s what the third book lacked. It’s like all their negative emotions were gone like they were never there and I disliked that it was written that way, as if it disappeared between one book to the next. It seemed like a lazy way of skipping ahead to the conclusion. Anyways, back to The Wicked King - it had so many conflicts going on that you really needed to keep reading to find out what happened next!

Now I want to hear about yours! What were some of your favorite YA book picks of 2019? Did you read any of the books I mentioned? What did you think about them?

OTHER RELATED ARTICLES:

Best YA Historical Fiction of 2019 | Kirkus Reviews

Best YA Fantasy and Science Fiction of 2019 | Kirkus Reviews

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Have a suggestion or want to get in touch? Email me: whimsiesofanerdgirl@gmail.com

[pomoblue]

book review idk

Steampunk is not a genre. I think. It's an aesthetic and a setting that comes with a set of tropes, but not enough to really build a story. There are works that you could call "A Steampunk Work", but their genre would be better categorised as Dystopia or Fantasy or Alternate History. I like the aesthetic, but I feel like a lot of steampunk works just don't explore and use the setting in the way I want. The book I'm going to review is not a steampunk work. Sorry about that tangent.

*The Watchmaker of Filigree Street* is a novel that's probably best classified as some combination of Magic Realism and Historical Fiction, though to me that makes it sound like the kind of book for people who sneer at anything they can call "genre fiction" for being not proper Literary Fiction. As much as I claim that Magic Realism is Urban Fantasy for snobby people, I do actually like the genre, and this book is an instance where I think it's used very well. It's also far from the conservative romanticisation of the past that some historical fiction falls into, and it's a genuinely interesting setting that works well with the plot. More on that later.

A brief synopsis so you know what I'm talking about. Thaniel, a telegraphist working the graveyard shift at the Home Office, gets a bomb threat from an irish nationalist group. When he returns home, he finds a watch mysteriously left in his house. Months later, just before the bomb goes off, the alarm goes off on the watch and he leaves the room to try and shut it off. He goes to find the maker of the watch, who turns out to be Keita Mori, a supernaturally good japanese watchmaker living in london. As the story goes on Thaniel tries to find out more about Mori's past, and how he seems to have knowledge of the future. Also there's a cool scientist lady who ends up in an arranged marriage with Thaniel. And a clockwork octopus.

One of my pet peeves with steampunk works is how they tend to forget the cyberpunk roots of being about underdogs and nobodies. Which isn't objectively a bad thing, but I much prefer stories about minorities, people with barely any power in society trying to live their life. *Filigree Street* does this well with its three main characters. Thaniel is a nobody, a cog in the machine of the british government. Mori is a baron in his native Japan, but in London he's a foreigner and despite his powers he can't do much directly. Grace is a woman living in a time before women entered the workforce or were given the vote, a scientist who has to wear a fake moustache to study in her university library. And these characters don't do any grand political moves, but they change history in their own way through little accidents and coincidences. The butterfly effect is a trope I'm quite fond of, and it works really well in the hands of characters who wouldn't normally have ways to make an impact on society.

Another of my pet peeves with steampunk is that, once you get past the cool clockwork aesthetics, it gets kind of repetitive as a setting. There's only so much you can do with "vaguely victorian London", and as I mentioned before steampunk works often like to focus on rich white guys and forget the rest of the world. I haven't failed to notice that this book is set in victorian London, but it uses the setting and time period in a way I haven't seen before. The story centres around the rise of Irish Nationalism in the UK, and the Meiji Restoration in Japan, and briefly explores the concept of Nationalism in general. It doesn't portray nationalism as a particularly positive thing, but given that one event involved terrorist attacks and the other led to some pretty unpleasant imperialism, that's understandable.

This wouldn't be a bloom book review without going off on a tangent about an entirely unrelated work. The first author that sprung to mind for me was the childrens-ish author Frances Hardinge, for some reason. I jokingly called this book "Frances Hardinge for adults" but then that made me sad because it reminded me I'm a grown-ass adult who enjoys 9-12 fiction just a bit too much. Anyway, it definitely does seem to have some similarities with Frances Hardinge's books, though less than I expected. The first is its very subtle use of magic realism whilst keeping a focus on mundane character interactions and politics. The way Mori's clairvoyance is handled reminds me a little of the psychic people in *Gullstruck Island*, and how the politics and plot of that story carried on without feeling too much like a fantasy, despite its constructed setting. As much as I love speculative fiction, I also love conflicts and characters that feel really human, and magic realism has no shortage of those.

The other noticeable similarity with Hardinge's works is the slightly unusual historical setting with a ton of research thrown into it. It's worth noting that both this book and most of Hardinge's books have a notes page at the end detailing where and how the author researched the setting-it's a lot of museums and first-hand accounts and History degrees.           If I had to pick a book that it was most similar to, it would me The Lie Tree, Frances Hardinge's award-winning victorian murder-mystery that I mainly liked because it had a sub-plot about fossils and I'm a big History of Science nerd. It's a fun mystery that twists and turns, exploring people's predjudices about gender and sexuality whilst still just being a good story. So is *The Watchmaker of Filigree Street*.