#Sky the kingfisher

[heckyeahponyscans]

My Little Pony Spring Special 1986 - Flutterbye’s Funny Friend

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Book Haul: Preorder Edition!

Apparently 1.) I preordered quite a few books and 2.) a BUNCH of them came out in early June. Very excited for these! Now catch me not reading them for months.

[druidofsuburbs]

Full progress of my piece "The Fishing Birds" 18"x22," acrylic on canvas.

[dansnaturepictures]

7th July 2024: Kingfisher, views, mushroom and enchanter's nightshade on a walk from Puttles Bridge in the New Forest and sky this evening.

On a fantastic walk in the New Forest I was amazed to hear and then get exquisite views of the Kingfisher and see Spotted Flycatcher and young with the adult bird feeing one. Treecreeper, Grey Wagtail, Stonechat, Robin, Blackbird, splendid views of Mistle Thrushes and Buzzard flying in the woods, Ringlet butterfly, Beautiful Demoiselle, my first ever cow-wheat, tormentil, daisy, marsh bedstraw, bog asphodel, foxgloves and lichen were other highlights. It was great to see Riband Wave moth my first of the year, Magpie, Woodpigeon with a twig and Goldfinch at home today. Another great summer weekend.

[tenth-sentence]

The Kingfisher flag with its golden thread sparkled against the blue sky.

"DragonLance Chronicles: Dragons of Spring Dawning" - Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

[arsonicsickness]

[duckprintspress]

Queer Horror Stories to Celebrate Mary Shelley’s Birthday!

Today, August 30th, is Frankenstein Day and Mary Shelley’s Birthday! To celebrate the first horror novel, we decided to ask our contributors about their favorite queer horror novels and ended up with 28 titles for a very spooky end of summer. Contributors to this list are: Shadaras, D.V. Morse, Nova Mason, Terra P. Waters, Rhosyn Goodfellow, Nina Waters, Meera S., Shea Sullivan, Owl Outerbridge, Sanne, Tris Lawrence, boneturtle and an anonymous contributor.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

The Devourers by Indra Das

Into the Drowning Deep & Rolling in the Deep (Rolling in the Deep series) by Mira Grant

What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier series) by T. Kingfisher

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

Sixteen Souls by Rosie Talbot

The Honeys by Ryan La Sala

The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zi Xu

The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink

Squad by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

The Hills of Estrella Roja by Ashley Robin Franklin

The Vampire Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles series) by Anne Rice

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Summer Hikaru Died by Mokumokuren

Pet Shop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino

Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine

The Deep Sky by Yume Kitasei

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love by Aruma Arima & Masuku Fukayama

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo

Fate/Stay Night by Type-Moon

Umineko When They Cry by Ryukishi07

Case 00: The Cannibal Boy from Sounding Stone

Welcome to Night Vale

The Silt Verses

What are your favorite queer horror novels? Tell us in the comments!

Want to chat your favorite reads with us? Join our Book Lover’s Discord server!

Update your Goodreads TBR with any of these books by visiting our queer horror shelf on Goodreads!! Or, jump onto Bookshop.org and browse these books on our queer horror list!

[crowclubkaz]

💚👁️🕸️ In honour of The Magnus Protocol releasing today, here are some book recommendations based on The Magnus Archives Fears!! 🕸️👁️💚

Detailed list of books below the cut!

For more book recommendations, especially queer horror, check out my Bookstagram @hauntedstacks

The Buried ⚰️ - Into the Sublime by Kate A. Boorman - Stuck by Ben Young - The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling - The Deep by Nick Cutter

The Corruption 🦠 - What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher - Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris - The Honeys by Ryan La Sala - She Is A Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran

The Dark 🌑 - Dead Silence by S.A. Barnes - Nightfall by Jake Halpern & Peter Kujawinski - No Power by Todd Kirby - The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey

The Desolation 🔥 - Firestarter by Stephen King - Burner by Robert Ford - Those Who Wish Me Dead by Michael Koryta - Burn the House Down by Kenna Jenkins

The End 💀 - Funeral Girl by Emma K. Ohland - Pet Sematary by Stephen King - Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune - This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno

The Extinction 🦴 - Lost Signals by Max Booth III - Bride of the Tornado by James Kennedy - No Safety in Numbers by Dayna Lorentz - The Rules of the Road by C.B. Jones

The Eye 👁️ - Video Palace by Maynard Wills - Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie - A History of Fear by Luke Dumas - The Watchers by A.M. Shine

The Flesh 🦷 - You’ve Lost A Lot of Blood by Eric LaRocca - Carnivore by Justin Boote - A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers - Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

The Hunt 🏹 - Hunt by Alexandra Nisneru - The Woods Are Always Watching by Stephanie Perkins - Survive the Night by Danielle Vega - The Hunger by Alma Katsu

The Lonely ☁️ - Red River Seven by A.J. Ryan - Solitude by Michael Penning - Dark Matter by Michelle Paver - We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

The Slaughter 🥩 - Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine - American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis - The Summer I Died by Ryan C. Thomas

The Spiral 🌀 - That Darkened Doorstep by Catherine Jordan - Mind the Mirrors by Amanda Leanne - Grey Noise by Marcus Hawke - Last to Leave the Room by Caitlin Starling

The Stranger🕴️ - It Looks Like Us by Alison Ames - My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix - The Deep by Alma Katsu - The Outside by Stephen King

The Vast 🪂 - From Below by Darcy Coates - Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant - Floating Staircase by Ronald Mafi - Nightmare Sky by Red Lagoe

The Web 🕸️ - The Taking of Jake Livingston - The Fervor by Alma Katsu - The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig - Come Closer by Sarah Gran

If You Like The Magnus Archives 💚 - Thirteen Stories by Jonathan Sims - Family Business by Jonathan Sims - Gas Station by Jack Townsend - Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix

[14thcommander]

seashore | hange zöe x reader

summary: a rainy day at the beach with hange. the shitty weather somehow leads to confessions of love. (idiots in love, friends to lovers, not beta read, a shit ton of symbolism, tooth rotting fluff)

i suggest listening to the song do you think I’m pretty by kingfisher

wc: 1.5k

The wind is gentle when it blows against your face — light, careful like a mother’s touch.

It brings the smell of cigarettes, the one Hange is currently smoking. They attempt to point it in the opposite direction, in order to avoid its terrible scent reaching you. It fails, but it’s the intention that counts something.

The beach is empty — well, mostly. There is a group of teenagers that are close enough to be seen, but too far to be heard. The sound of waves is the only thing you hear.

The ocean is a green, grayish color — the line that separates it from the sky, in the horizon, is blurred.

It is a chill day, one you consider the perfect atmosphere to go to the beach. Hange knows you like gray, moody days — the ones in which the sky looks like a warm, soapy bath. You were never a fan of sunlight anyway. Perhaps that’s why you admire Hange so much.

“Too bad Levi and Erwin are missing this sunny, hot day at the beach. Bet they’re sad just thinking about it.” Hange’s words are filled with irony, waiting for a reaction. The sarcasm that drips from their tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

The two of you are friends — well, sort of. You are part of the same friend group, consistently hanging out. Over time, you grew closer: what was supposed to be a collective hangout, turned into just you. It feels complicated these days.

“Oh, fuck off. You’re the one who agreed to come with me.” You offer them a middle finger, to which they throw their hands up in surrender.

The both of you are sitting on an old beach towel you brought, the fabric is wrinkled from being shoved on the bottom of your bag. None of you are dressed appropriately for the beach: Hange is wearing a thick flannel, protecting them from the chill breeze. You are wearing a beat down pair of converse, the ones you have since high school. Somehow, you match with each other. You try not to think too much of it.

“Call me crazy if you want, I wouldn’t let my friend go to this mopey beach all alone. I’m loyal like that.”

And that’s why you are at the beach, with Hange and no one else. Levi and Erwin were supposed to come along, however you are glad something came up for them. Nothing would be more awkward than ending up on a double date with your sort-of-friend.

The word friend tastes bitter on your throat, poisoning your lungs like Hange’s cigarette.

“You’re the only person I know that thinks this is appropriate beach weather.” They say, breaking the lack of dialogue between you for the past minute or so. Not that you’re counting or anything like that, of course. “Are you a vampire or something?”

It earns them a chuckle from you, almost a laugh — it drips like honey from your mouth, and Hange desperately wants to know how it tastes like. They want to hear it again.

“I doubt you like having fun in the sun either.” You reply, watching as the wind blows their hair — brunette locks dancing in the air, enhancing the messiness of their ponytail.

“Touché.”

Hange says, while burrying the remains of a cigarette in the sand, and you don’t point out how wrong it is — not with words, at least. Your eyes seem to translate your feelings either way.

“You’re so expressive.” It’s Hange’s turn to chuckle. “It’s adorable.”

Their words almost make your face heat in embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh, shut up.” Your tone is playful, not pointed at all. Avoiding their eye contact, you turn your face in order to pretend the ocean before you is a better sight than Hange.

“I mean it. I like it.”

Hange might tell you a joke, but they would never tell you a lie. Something about the honor of a scientist, you guess. It’s a beat of silence until you speak again.

“Yeah, well, you’re the opposite. I can’t read you at all.” This comment, though, this one is pointed — not like a knife, but similar to thorns on a rose. It comes with something beautiful, too: honesty.

The truth is palpable, swimming in between you. It’s all a funny, weightless banter, until it isn’t.

“My resting bitch face doesn’t help. Guess I’m better with words or something.”

This time you laugh, genuinely. It isn’t mean, you don’t mean to mock Hange at all — it’s just that the irony of it all is funny to you. Almost unbelievable.

“Oh, what a poet you are.” Your eyes are glued to the sea before you, admiring its chaotic beauty. The waves crash against the shore, becoming a conjugation of white bubbles.

It’s silent again, wordless tension building around you like a sand castle — ready to crumble at any sudden move.

“You’re really pretty.” They admit, which sounds like something in between a secret and a confession. It seems out of nowhere, but it truly isn’t. Lately, this is all Hange can think about. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The waves crash again, destroying the metaphorical sand castle you built around yourself, trying to protect you from whatever it is you’re scared of.

“Hange.” The sound of their name leaving your mouth isn’t a threat, although it isn’t an invitation either.

“No, I mean it. Truly.” They reach for something inside their bag, something important in the mess of papers, headphones, and a cigarette pack.

They’ve found it: a small, worn out notebook.

“Here, take a look.” They offer it to you, opened on a certain page. “Then tell me you think I’m lying.”

There are doodles of you. Your face, distracted, frozen in the moment, probably when you were laughing at something crude Levi had said. There is your silhouette, too: you guess it’s the view of when you walk in front of them, hurriedly trying to arrive on time for a move you went to see.

Your smile, your eyes. Every detail of your face, something that cannot be translated by a photograph. The traces Hange has memorized over the years you have known each other. This is what they picture before going to bed, or early in the morning when they wake up.

“Hange.” This time, when you say their name, it is softer — it warms them up. “Hange…”

It’s like you’re hypnotized, unable to say anything but their name.

When you look up, they are closer, nose brushing against yours. Hange looks at you through thick glasses, with curiosity. This time, they can’t read your expression.

“Kiss me.”

And they do. It is gentle, soft — their lips move against yours like the waves move against the shore, as if it was nature’s reason for your own existence. Their warm palms find your face, holding you preciously. It is brief, however. The kiss ends as quickly as it came.

Neither of you speak, too afraid to break the moment. Hange brings their forehead against yours, and like that you stay. You taste like salt air, warm like whiskey. It is fiery, overtaking them as a whole. They wouldn’t mind being swallowed by it, drowning in the overwhelming hotness that is your touch.

This time, Hange says your name, warm brown eyes looking into yours and finding nothing but love. Admiration. Devotion.

It’s a humorless chuckle, what comes next. It leaves their lips nervously. For someone so careless like Hange, it sure is a new sight to see them like this — a pink tint covering their cheeks, a loopy smile on their lips. They have never looked so soft.

“I have wanted to do this for so long.”

“What, go to the beach on a rainy day?” You ask in attempted humor, beaming when it earns you a laugh from them.

“Kiss you. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You smile, breaking eye contact and looking at the sand. It looks damp, cold. Unlike what you feel right now.

“Me too.”

Hange looks into your eyes again, scanning it from any signs of mischief. They find none.

“I get the appeal of this now. If anything, the shitty weather makes it feel more romantic.”

You give them an I know, right? look, and they fight the urge to kiss you again.

“Glad I could change your mind. We could do this again, if you want.”

The words that leave your lips are soft, but confident. Just like you.

“What, are you asking me on a date?”

“Depends on your answer.”

Hange offers you a toothy smile, feeling like a child. They feel on top of the world now. How could they not, after all?

“Yeah. Obviously, of course. I would love to go on a date with you. Multiple dates, even.”

You smile again, cheeks already hurting from so much happiness.

“Can’t wait to make you mine.” They say, bringing your palm to their lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your warm skin. “Cause I’m already yours.”

You believe them.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Even more thoughts, for you to post if you so choose!

I do love the idea of Shen Yuan having a fancy hair piece with a pin that doubles as a weapon! Just because demon crows don’t have access to spiritual swords doesn’t mean he can’t stab the hell out of you.

For his main weapon, I’m thinking crow demons that can take human form tend to use bows, with the feathers shed by their clan as fletching. (Perhaps demon feathers also grant abilities of some sort to the arrows?)

Looking at the iridescence of crow feathers reminds me of the Chinese tradition of making jewelry with kingfisher feathers. Now I think it would be lovely if the crow demons also had a tradition of fashioning similar jewelry with their own feathers, perhaps treated with solutions and lacquered in a way that brings out even more of their color.

Speaking of colors, while crows aren’t among those birds able to see significant ultraviolet, they are tetrachromats, and thus are able to distinguish colors to a far greater extent than humans. I’m sure his sudden ability to see way more colors than he could in his last life is very perplexing to poor Shen Yuan!

The regular crows acting as an alarm system by cursing and saying spooky nonsense at all unknown visitors is an absolute delight!

I vote that Shen Yuan intentionally never gives them whatever signal that would mark Airplane as a friend, just so they continue to harass the guy every time he comes to visit. 😂

(I’m thinking poor Airplane is trying to set up trade routes for demons, and struggling with the general hostility different types of demons have for one another. Killing interlopers and/or raiding other demons for their stuff is not conductive to trade! It’s no wonder demons lack the arts. Nobody shares anything with anyone, except when giving demon nobles tribute. 😭)

You know, with all the feathers and bird-folks about, the transmigrators probably figure out quill pens. Not sure how big of an improvement they’d be compared to brushes, but they’re at least more like what the transmigrators are used to.

It’d also be funny if all the demon crows and villagers were learning to write simplified Chinese from Shen Yuan, instead of traditional, leading visitors to wonder what the hell is up with this one location’s weird writing system, where half the characters are inexplicably different.

(He probably teaches them traditional too, if only for the sake of reading imported books and things, but simplified is probably faster for personal notes and bookkeeping or the like).

I've always loved when people have weapons in discreet places, so it seemed necessary to dump that onto Shen Yuan because he's the most iconic character ever. Especially CrowYuan as well, it seems like something he'd do just to be safe when it comes to these things - after everything he's read, it's hard not to always be prepared. (Also, a more cheeky reason if I may, imagine Shen Yuan in a sticky situation and he pulls the hair pin out of his hair, now holding a weapon and looking AWESOME as he does it) Also, main weapon as a bow IS MAKING ME LOOOSE MY MIND. Ever since I was little, I've been obsessed with people who use bows (Legolas, Robin Hood, Hawkeye, Kate Bishop, various book characters) and the idea of giving Shen Yuan a bow?? I am dropping to my knees and shaking my fists at the sky. HUZZAAAHH!!! Feathers as fletching is a great idea, almost like a calling card of sorts, as well as a warning. Demon feathers giving certain abilities to arrows is a brilliant idea, such as resilience, poison, increased speeds (useful for high pressure situations where someone has to die before they can be alerted). I'd find it interesting if different demon feathers grant different abilities, and it's almost a norm for these demons to trade feathers! The jewellery idea is absolutely gorgeous and adorable! I was thinking that it could mainly be a crow demon thing, and to have one made for you if you aren't a crow demon is a sign of great trust within the community, a decision that has to be agreed to by at least half of the community! Also, itty bitty angst idea, this jewellery could also be highly sought out because it's gorgeous and its making is entirely a clan secret that is only taught to those within it - so, it's often seen as a spoil of war, a way to brag about a crow demon's death is to wear the jewellery "won" from "battle". Shen Yuan would most definitely be thrown off guard by this wider arrange of colours, often found in the wildest areas of the forest and just staring at everything. At first, he wonders if it's because he's a demon now, but more research (aka, bullying a demon chicken Airplane for answers) shows that it is fact not because he's a demon, but instead because he's a crow. He is both excited that he can see all these colours and fiercely delighted that Airplane can't, because he's a spiteful little shit and I love him. If Airplane comes to visit, he's grown adept to immediately submitting to the harassment of the crows because they soon grow bored of him if they don't get any reaction other than pitiful screaming. (He would highly suffer from trying to set up trade routes as well, lmaooo) OH MY GOD, if Mobei Jun ever comes to visit Bing-ge, he would also be immediately attacked by crows and that is funnier than anything else right now in my mind. His stern face immediately becomes one of absolute outrage, but it quickly becomes confusion when Bing-ge says he can't attack them back because "Shen Yuan would never forgive me" On the idea of feathers as quill pens, that would end up being incredibly useful for them! Perhaps the use of certain demon feathers would be better than others if we go by different demon feathers holding different abilities - for instance, let's say crow feathers hold increased speed, that would be helpful for writing because one would merely need to guide the quill and let it do the rest. However, a demon feather that created a poison effect, let's say chicken feathers, would not be the best for writing, which makes certain feathers more valuable than others for different things! Shen Yuan would be a great teacher, because he knows the traditional Chinese - which is useful for things you previously mentioned - but then he would be able to introduce a whole new writing system that makes it easier to write. This would be especially useful for those who may struggle with the traditional Chinese, because then they would still be able to access writing!! {part seven! part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, and part six!}

[ellewritesalright]

Second Best - Part 4

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Masterlist --- Part 3

A/N: Buckle up folks, things are about to get wild.

Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.

Warnings: Angst! (fluff too) Strict and low-key abusive parents, self-image issues because of said parents, arguing/angry shouting, mentions of illness and death, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please [we have almost reached this part of the story]), pls lmk if I've missed anything else.

Word count: 4000

..........

"And this is the lower deck," Nikolai said, motioning around the wooden cabin of the Kingfisher. He was giving you a tour before he left for another trip across Ravka tomorrow.

You grazed your hand along one of the hammocks. "How does one sleep while airborne?"

"I'm not sure. I never sleep while we're flying." He stood beside you, patting the canvas fabric and making it sway. "These are more for the crew."

You nodded, looking around some more.

"There's not much else to the Kingfisher. It's mostly utility, since flights don't take much longer than a few hours usually."

"How does it fly in the rain?" You inquired, eyeing the grates overhead, the blue sky poking through the gaps.

He smiled. "Not perfectly, but we make do."

"Why does that sound like it's a more harrowing experience than you're letting on?"

"Oh, hush," he laughed, "it's perfectly safe."

You walked back up the steep steps to the upper deck.

"Thank you for the tour," you said as you stopped near the boarding ramp.

"Anytime." He leaned against the railing. "I'm just sorry I'll be missing your birthday soiree."

You rolled your eyes. "You mean the parade of unsuitable suitors?"

"That's the one," he smiled, giving your upper arm a short pat. "Cheer up. It's not every day a lady turns twenty-one."

You scratched at your collar for a moment, then clasped your hands together in front of you. "She's going to be insufferable."

He instantly knew you were talking about your mother. "No more than usual."

You gave him a look.

"I'm just saying… maybe she'll be distracted with the hosting."

"She can multitask my misery, don't you worry."

Nikolai sighed, eyes empathetic.

"You'll have to have a doubly good time in East Ravka, to make up for the suffering I'll be enduring," you told him. "I command it."

"You're commanding the king now?" He smirked.

You gave him another look, and he laughed, his hand touching your upper arm again.

"Yes, ma'am."

……….

The house hadn't been this packed since you were a small child. The last time you remembered the Antonovs hosting as extravagant an event as this, you were young enough to be sneaking peeks from the servants' halls. But now, you were in it. Men were twisting you about in the ballroom, eyeing you up from the great hall, whispering in your ear in the dining room.

The man on your arm at present was General Halinsky. He was leading you through a rather stiff waltz. You moved with him, his one hand tightly clasping yours, the other a strict presence on your back. You had to wonder if it was because of the last you'd spoken to him; calling him less accomplished and worse at his military job than King Nikolai. He stared at you without hunger or lust, which was more than you could say for some of the other men your mother invited. But there was a hardness and annoyance to his eyes whenever they narrowed on you. He probably thought you were merely a petulant girl.

When the waltz ended, Halinsky didn't let go of your hand.

"Another dance?" He asked, putting on a charming smile that did not match his viper eyes.

"I'm feeling a bit parched, I could use a drink first," you excused yourself, offering him a polite shake of your head.

"Let me fetch you something," he said, leading you over to a table. He had you sit, then he left.

You kept your back straight despite how you wished to collapse into this chair. Saints, you were exhausted. It seemed like every man was staring at you, all lured in by your mother and her promises of your intention to marry. They all stared, and you were fearful to meet any of their eyes, else they might take it as a sign and approach you. So you kept your eyes on your gloves. The elbow-length white satin covered your little scar. It was the only evidence of the life you used to have.

Your mind went to Nikolai, as it often did. You hoped he was having a pleasant enough trip to East Ravka. He'd flown there, which you still couldn't quite believe; watching him lift off with his crew and a few of his political advisors was a marvel that left you more than a little slack-jawed. You'd have to ask to study the blueprints of the ship once he got back.

He'd sent a letter yesterday, not a singular mention of potential suitors in his swooping cursive. It was more about his journey, another apology for missing your birthday, and a promise of a surprise when he returned.

You smiled to yourself as you pondered the surprise. Perhaps shells from the eastern shore, or a new tool set? You hadn't a clue, and that thrilled you.

A throat cleared in front of you, and you looked up, seeing your mother clutching the forearm of a too-eager middle aged man wearing too much cologne. She introduced him as some northern count, then forced you into a dance with him.

So then you were stifling down sneezes as he had his arm around your waist and his odor overwhelming you. After four excruciating minutes of this, the song ended and you excused yourself as quickly as you could. You noticed Lord Alexei near the left wall of the ballroom, and you started towards his friendly face. It would be nice to speak to someone normal.

But before you were even two paces away from the dance floor, General Halinsky was beside you, a glass of golden bubbly in each hand.

"There you are, my lady," he said, a hint of impatience under his words.

You offered him a smile as you took a glass. "Thank you."

He sipped his glass and looked across the ballroom. "All these people, all here for you."

"It's a good birthday," you said with a convincing chuckle. Your polka-dot scar itched beneath your glove.

"You've many friends, it seems."

"It certainly does seem like that," you nodded drolly.

"You don't think so?"

"I think my mother invited a great number of guests. I'll confess, I don't know everyone here."

He looked at you, studying your face. "Girls like you don't have to know."

You blinked at him. "What does that mean, General?"

He tilted his chin at you as he noticed the sharp undertone of your words. His snake-like stare made you look just as closely at him, studying his cold eyes.

"You're soft," he said, not in an accusatory or insulting tone, just as an observation.

"Excuse me?"

"Soft. Unprepared for life. Like a baby bird in a nest."

"I'm no child, General."

"It's not an insult that you're young and inexperienced. It just means you need someone to guide you in life."

"And you think you're that someone," you remarked, trying and failing to hide the bite in your voice.

"I think you've a large estate that could use assistance. Once your parents pass on, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but my parents are barely ten years your senior, General. I should rather think I need a husband with less years."

He sucked a breath of either annoyance or amusement through his teeth. "That's not what your mother and father think."

"They don't decide who I marry, General. You'd do well to remember that." You cast a glare at him, then you glanced across the room at Lord Alexei. "If you'll excuse me, I have other guests."

You walked away, abandoning Halinsky and your glass with him.

"I sure hope that scowl isn't for me," Alexei chuckled softly as you approached him.

You hadn't realized you were still frowning, but you wiped it away, making your face pleasant again.

"Sorry. I'm afraid I'm nearing that point of a birthday where things aren't fun anymore," you sighed. As if your birthday celebration was fun to begin with.

"Too much birthday, as we call it in my house," Alexei nodded. "My Ana has always been prone to crying on her birthdays or on holidays. She gets so excited and then when one thing does not match that excitement it comes crashing down on her."

You gave a sympathetic chuckle. "Poor girl."

"She is learning to better manage her expectations," he smiled softly. He looked at you for a moment, then said, "I hope you won't find it too forward… but I was wondering about you and my cousin, King Nikolai."

You blinked at him. "Whatever for?"

"Well, it seems to me that you two are quite close. And I plainly remember a time when you two were betrothed."

You managed a smile. "We are no longer betrothed. The king is just a good friend."

"I see," he nodded, but his eyes had something else to say.

"You don't believe me?" You tilted your chin up at him slightly.

He raised his hands. "I believe you. I simply wanted to know if I'd be wasting my time with you, considering how my cousin so clearly likes you."

You scoffed in amusement. "He is a friend of mine. Besides, he has been helping me find suitors."

"And how is his success rate?"

You pursed your lips.

"A-ha." Alexei smirked beneath his mustache. "He's a poor matchmaker."

"He's done his best."

"You'd be married by now if he was truly trying his best."

"Lord Alexei, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this conversation," you said with a polite detachedness.

"Very well. I know when to quit." He glanced around the ballroom, at the swathes of men and their black suits. Then he murmured, "Too bad the rest of these men don't know they've been beaten."

With that, Lord Alexei bowed his head and moved on.

The evening remained a long and tiring event, but now as you faked smiles and acted charming, you also had to hide the hive of thoughts buzzing in your head. When the night finally ended and the last guests had been sent home, your mother made you speak to her.

"You were surprisingly well-behaved tonight," she remarked with a dry stare at you.

You nodded. "Thank you."

She wiped at your cheek, seeing some form of imperfection. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"Then go to sleep," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"I wasn't aware I was allowed to," you said, standing up again.

"There's that tongue of yours," she rolled her eyes. She seemed too tipsy to be completely angry with you. She snapped her fingers at your father. "Darling, come see this one to bed."

"Sure, dear."

Lord Antonov sighed and offered you his arm. He walked out into the main hall, bringing you towards the staircase. "Where's your precious king tonight?"

You wanted to protest that he wasn't only your king, but you sighed and swallowed the remark.

"East Ravka. Novokribirsk, I believe."

Your father sighed again and patted your arm as you walked. "I recieved several offers for you tonight."

"Oh?" You said, your voice almost clipped.

"Lord Feng, that Kerch Banker Mr Van Sessen, General Halinsky, Viscount Ulrich…" Your father stopped outside your bedroom. "Which do you like best?"

"Most of those men haven't spoken more than a few words to me, how could I know?" You shrugged.

"Then who spoke the most?"

You stifled a groan. "Halinsky."

"General Halinsky," your father pursed his lips, appraising him. He patted your arm again. "Very well. Goodnight, daughter. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," you nodded softly.

You watched him leave for a moment before you went inside your room. You shut the door and stripped off your long gloves, your big gown coming off too. Your heels ached nearly as badly as your head as Lord Alexei's words hummed like a swarm in your ears, the hive of questions, counterarguments, and wonderings still awake.

You collapsed in bed, trying to fall asleep, but you weren't immune to the revelation about Nikolai that Alexei made. You tossed and turned, every movement a question, an exasperated game of "he loves me, he loves me not." It was difficult to say if Nikolai had been giving his full efforts in seeking a match for you. But Alexei was certain in his words–Nikolai would have found you a husband by now if he wanted to--and you had no reason to doubt Alexei.

……….

A few days after your birthday, a letter arrived, addressed from Novokribirsk. Nikolai would be home Saturday afternoon, and he was hoping to come over for tea. You wrote back that he would be welcome, but that you expected to visit the Palace very soon and see his design plans of his flying ship.

You did not mention your anxiety after your birthday celebration, how his cousin had sent you into a tailspin of questions and high hopes. Nothing was worse than raised expectations, so you were trying to muscle them down and stop them before they destroyed your life and friendship completely.

Even so, Nikolai had a small bag with him when he arrived for tea on Saturday afternoon. He set the bag down beside the sofa as you brought him into the library. A belated birthday gift, you figured. He stood by the window for a moment as you walked across the room again. You felt bold enough to shut the door, leaving the two of you alone. You poured tea for Nikolai, preparing it with as much milk as could fit before overflowing.

You felt as if this was a moment you should remember. The blue rim of the teacups, the way he stood with his back to you as he looked out at the gardens, the near-shake of your hands, the glint in Nikolai's eyes as he slowly turned and approached the seating area. Then again, you tried not to build up this moment in your mind; Nikolai was your friend, and he would go on as your friend. That was all.

"I'm terribly sorry to have missed your birthday. I heard it was quite the event," Nikolai said as he sat a respectable distance beside you on the sofa.

"Yes. There were more bachelors and bubbly than anyone could have stomached. My mother went all out."

He raised a brow as he raised his teacup. "And I presume you danced with every last one of them."

"Just about." You rolled your eyes a bit. "One of the bachelors was the ancient Duke Shapovalov."

"The Duke Shapovalov who's wheeled around by nurses?"

"The very same."

"Saints, your mother is creative. He's got to be as old as Ravka."

You chuckled, and Nikolai seemed to lean closer to you.

"I'm sorry you were left to fend for yourself," he said softly.

"It's alright, I'm used to it."

"All the same, I have a surprise that might make up for my absence." He grinned at you, a sly glint in his hazel irises. “Close your eyes.”

You were wary, but you did as he said. The loss of your sight drew your attention to the fact that you could feel your heartbeat in your throat. What was he going to do? You heard him move, and there was a quick rustle of his bag, then he moved again. You could hear him take a breath.

"Hold out your hands"

Again, you followed his instructions, extending your hands. Something soft was set in your palms, balancing a little lopsidedly.

"You can open your eyes now," Nikolai said after a beat.

As soon as you did you felt your heart leap out of your chest. A grey stuffed bear sat in your hands, its nose round and eyes gentle. It was Viktor, your old friend and most trusted bear. This Viktor’s limbs weren’t worn like your old Viktor’s were from trailing the halls after you, but his arms and legs were just the lengths you remembered. And his fur was slightly darker than the original’s, yet it was just as soft and warm. While he wasn’t an exact copy of your childhood bear, he was damn close, and your eyes pricked with tears as you brought your new Viktor to your chest.

“Do you like him?” Nikolai asked.

You beamed, “He's the best gift I’ve ever received. How did you manage this?”

"Well, I used the drawing you sent me, then I asked the staff at the Antonov estate house about a stuffed bear that you used to carry around. It was difficult to track down anyone who knew of Viktor, but finally one of the cooks remembered."

This difficulty made sense to you, seeing as the Antonovs had gradually replaced most of the staff after the firepox outbreak.

Nikolai chuckled as he continued, “I may or may not have passed along your sketch and his description and to a fabrikator.”

"I don't know what to say, Nikolai, I…" You heaved forward on the sofa and draped your arms around his shoulders, doing the improper thing as you hugged him. If your mother caught you she would scream like she was being murdered but you couldn't be bothered. This was the kindest, most considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. Nikolai wrapped himself around you, squeezing you gently. It was difficult to pull yourself away from him. But when you finally let him go, there were tears in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hands bracing your arms as he looked at you in concern.

"I'm excellent," you sputtered. "Better than alright. I just…" A grin spread along your lips and you quickly hugged him again. "Thank you."

"I take it I'm forgiven for missing your birthday?" You felt his question burble in his chest as you pressed to it. You sat away from him again.

"You are more than forgiven, Nikolai Lantsov. If we had the power, Viktor and I would declare sainthood for you."

He laughed. "I can see it now: Sankt Nikolai the Dashing and Bold."

"Not quite. I'd name you Sankt Nikolai the Kindhearted."

He smiled softly at you. "I can live with that."

The library door opened and you flitted away from him with dizzying speed. He raised a brow as you sat on an armchair a full coffee table away from him, but you ignored his silent probe, toying with Viktor's ears.

"Your majesty," Lord Antonov greeted with a sigh, balancing a stack of papers under his arm. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long, Lord Antonov. Your daughter and I were just having tea and then I gave her a birthday gift. Perhaps you'd like to see it."

You proudly held up Viktor, matching Nikolai's grin as you peered at the bear.

"You got her a stuffed animal?" Your father peered down his nose at Viktor. He grumbled, "It's a rather peculiar gift for someone her age."

"The bear is a replica of a toy she used to have when she was young, but if you don't remember him, perhaps I haven't done a very good job."

You wanted to say he'd done well, that it was the best gift you'd ever received and you were grateful even if the resemblance wasn't exact, but you were quickly over spoken.

"I remember a scraggly bunch of stitches she used to drag behind her, but we got rid of it and the countless diseases it undoubtedly carried after she recovered from a terrible, terrible illness. The memory is an unpleasant one, your highness, and I am appalled that you would dredge up such a horrid moment in our family's past."

Your stomach turned to lead.

"Father--"

"Quite frankly, I don't see why you've given my daughter a gift at all," he said coldly, eyes lethal as he looked at Nikolai. "She is not your fiance. You two are no longer engaged because you broke the tie between our families. You decided we weren't suitable to marry into your royal line. And despite how incredibly irresponsible your actions were, I forgave them. But I will not tolerate your blithe flirtations with my daughter when you have no intention of marrying her!"

Nikolai stood firm, his mouth pressed in a calm line though you were sure your father's lashing must sting. It was difficult to accept the fact that your father was right, but he had compounded a fear of yours. Knowingly or unknowingly, Nikolai led you on.

"Lord Antonov," began Nikolai. He rubbed at his chest, just over his heart, and for a moment it seemed he didn't know what to say, but he soon composed an apology. "I am truly sorry. I meant no offense--"

"I know what you meant, sending my daughter letters and giving her gifts and false hope. I'm tired of your meddling, boy."

Nikolai's lip twitched and his arms dropped to his sides. "Boy? I am your king, Lord Antonov. Regardless of what you think of me, you will uphold that respect."

"I couldn't respect you if I tried," your father spat. "Now, you'd better leave my house willingly before I have someone escort you out."

Nikolai glanced at you, perhaps wishing you would speak up for him as you had before. But when you folded your arms and looked away he got the message. You were done fighting for him.

He scoffed and shook his head at you, then he stormed from the room. His footsteps could be heard in the main hall, halting for a second to gather his coat, then continuing through the front door. It slammed behind him, the noise bouncing into the library.

You had little time to process the rather one-sided conversation that just played out before you. The realization that you were no better than a fish dragged along on a hook but never reeled in was the only thing you seemed to register. It made you a bit ill to ponder, but you were grateful to your father for pulling back the curtain and confirming your situation with Nikolai. After all, Nikolai had no defenses against it, nothing to say the contrary.

Your father walked to the library door and let it click shut before he whirled around on you.

"You stupid girl!" He hissed. "How blind could you be? Your mother and I share some of the blame for letting this drag out like it did, but honestly, how foolish are you?"

"I'm sorry." You absentmindedly tugged along Viktor's ear. You had clutched him tight the entire time your father aired his grievance with the king. "I was stupid."

"Not as stupid as telling him about this blasted bear! What else did you tell him, girl? Does he know the truth about my real daughter?"

"No, he doesn't know!" You insisted

Your father scoffed and you felt your chest tighten. Your eyes watered as you gave a weak huff.

"I didn't tell him. I promise, I didn’t say a thing,” you whispered. “I only said I had a stuffed animal that was burned after the outbreak."

His glare was as pointed as a needle’s tip. "You'd better not be lying to me, girl. If the truth got out… well, we would both be ruined, wouldn't we, daughter?"

"Yes, father."

He straightened out his jacket. "Leave me now." He pointed at Viktor. "And get that thing out of my sight."

You left without another word. It was a mindless journey to your room, and you wondered why you felt so numb. Five minutes prior you were the happiest you'd been in a long time. You were receiving a thoughtful gift from what you thought was a trusted friend, and now you sat collapsed on the carpet of your room, uncontrollable tears blotting your cheeks.

You should be stronger than this. You'd withstood a tumultuous childhood and lonely youth. You lost your mother to a pair of greedy nobles. You were denied friends and love and always made to feel lesser, like you were a vile sight and poor replacement for what was lost to the Antonovs.

You cried into Viktor's head, your chest aching with the weight of not being good enough–both for your supposed family, and for your once-fiance and former friend, Nikolai.

..........

A/N: Evil ending for this part, am I right? Anyway... Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist:

@xceafh @rhaenyrakryze @thecrowsgambit @nghtwngs @hauntedenthusiasttragedy

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Nikolai Taglist:

@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm

@poseidont @hashcakes

[thaumasilva]

me thinking about kingfisher grian and elytra & winged players headcanons (hermitcraft once again has its claws in me) / 701 words, snippet

--

“Are you back from endbusting?” Grian calls down.

Impulse shifts on his horse. “We might’ve, uh, gotten a little something for you here. If you want to come take a look.”

Grian scampers down the mountain, taking a not-insignificant amount of cracks to his boots, and crouches in front of them. Wordlessly, Impulse switches to holding an elytra in his hand.

“Oh!” shouts Grian.

“Now d’you want it now, or do you want to earn it?” Impulse asks, but is quickly cut over by noises of dissent from Grian and Iskall.

“Nah nah nah nah nah gimme gimme gimme,” says Grian, darting forward to pick up the elytra. It’s maybe a little greedy, but he’s been busy! Most people on the server who want wings have got them already, he’s just been stuck here with Rodney and finding all those rare blue blocks for his build.

“I think he’s already done his time,” Iskall says with a muffled laugh, echoing Grian’s thoughts exactly. “Here in the overworld.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” laughs Impulse. “Go on then, let’s see it! You haven’t gotten them yet, have you?” “Fresh new wings,” says Iskall.

“Yeah, fresh new season!” Impulse’s horse rears up for a second. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” answers Grian. “This is the best part of the season!” 

[Grian has gained the achievement: Sky’s the Limit]

He says that, but tossing on the straps of the elytra, he always forgets how good it feels-- suddenly, an uplifting, dizzying rush fills his entire being. It’s the world’s most satisfying morning stretch packed into a few seconds of magic, Grian shaking his torso to wriggle his way into two new limbs arching out from his back. The elytra pops off. In its place, a pair of sharpish wings, thin and nimble, coated in the most gorgeous iridescent cyan. Their undersides are a ruddy pink, like terracotta, or cherry blossoms, and they fade out softly at the flight feathers.

Impulse and Iskall cheer, and Grian yells out his own satisfaction, giving his new wings a few test-flight flaps. They go with his base! Last season’s set was fun in their own right, heavy as a wool shawl and bulky with moss and skulk shot through the gray, but these look acrobatic. Probably the most dynamic he’s ever gotten on Hermitcraft.

“Are they real?” asks Iskall, spurring his horse forward with interest. “Not like are they real, but are they fantasy, or…?”

“Like a real species,” Impulse finishes. “Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know any birds that look like that. They look tropical!”

“Maybe I picked the wrong base location, maybe I should go shack up with Etho,” Grian adds, although a bit distractedly, pushing his wings as far forward as he can to get a good look at them. His wings are always unique, season to season, server to server. The past two go-arounds he’s had weird wings, that didn’t quite match up with any living bird, that were a bit more… adaptive to the season’s antics, instead of the chicken and parrot he’d had before. Something about these blue ones seem like a return to baseline, though. He’s got to find out.

“Hey there, Gem!” Impulse shouts.

They turn to see her wading across the river, darting up onto land with her headband’s tie streaming behind her. “Grian! You got your wings!” 

“Hallo there, Gem,” says Iskall, riding up to meet her. “We were talking about if Grian’s wings here are a fantasy bird like the last few times, or if he’s something… more observable.” He mimes holding a spyglass up to Grian. Grian takes a hop-skip and a jump and glides down to them, relishing the air through his feathers again. 

“He’s very shiny!” Impulse shouts.

“I can see that,” says Gem, admiring, and then her face twists up in laughter. Apprehension shoots through Grian. 

“What--” he starts.

“Grian!” Gem shrieks, and throws back her head in such crying laughter that she nearly falls over, stumbling back. She covers her face and then gives up on hiding. “You’re-- you’re a kingfisher!”

“No,” says Grian instantly, as Impulse and Iskall begin an uproar. “No!” He spins on the spot, outraged. “Really? Aw, really?”

[fandomsandfeminism]

Finalists for Best Novel:

The Saint of Bright Doors, Vajra Chandrasekera (Tordotcom)

The Water Outlaws, S.L. Huang (Tordotcom; Solaris UK)

Translation State, Ann Leckie (Orbit US; Orbit UK)

The Terraformers, Annalee Newitz (Tor; Orbit UK)

Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon, Wole Talabi (DAW, Gollancz)

Witch King, Martha Wells (Tordotcom)

Nebula Award for Novella

The Crane Husband, Kelly Barnhill (Tordotcom)

“Linghun”, Ai Jiang (Dark Matter Ink)

Thornhedge, T. Kingfisher (Tor; Titan UK)

Untethered Sky, Fonda Lee (Tordotcom)

The Mimicking of Known Successes, Malka Older (Tordotcom)

Mammoths at the Gates, Nghi Vo (Tordotcom)

You have until June 8th to read the list!

[druidofsuburbs]

Excited to announce that my pieces "The Fishing Birds" and "Wild Alchemy" were selected for the Rhode Island Watercolor Society's online exhibition "Forces of Nature" juried by Susan Aitcheson.

View all the work here

[asexualbookbird]

BEHOLD! BOOKS I READ IN 2023!

A handful of rereads, a lot of new favorites, and I put a huge dent in my physical unread piles! I'm pretty happy with my reading year to be honest!

BEST OF 2023

Nettle and Bone by T Kingfisher - If I haven't talked about it enough please read this. An absolute DELIGHTFUL start to the year, which is odd to say of a book about abusive spouses and dead sisters. Like. I wanted to reread it right after finishing it, and will probably reread it this coming year, I loved it so much

The Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee - also heart wrenching but listen, there are BIRDS! Giant birds!!!! A strange pick me up during a bad time, but it WORKED!

To Shape A Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose - Oh what a marvelous read, a delightful adventure, I look forward to book two!

Provenance by Ann Leckie - don't hate me, but I think I might enjoy this more than the Imperial Radch trilogy. It's really what I wanted from A Memory Called Empire, and it was so much fun to see the Radchaai from a different perspective!

The Liar's Knot by MA Carrick - DEROSSI VARGO, MY BELOVED! But also, this has such rich worldbuilding. Every time there's a Pattern reading in a scene, the authors did their own reading in real life and put the results in the book. They came up with multiple calendars for the world. And it never feels overwhelming, everything is integrated so naturally! Ren heists an entire family for her and her sister. A lovely brick of a book :)

Where the Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire - I think this might be my favorite Wayward Children book so far, I'm glad these books are bite sized because I want to read them over and over <3

The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie - WHAT A FUNKY LITTLE BOOK!

WORST OF 2023

Black Wings Beating by Alex London - birds would not fucking do that. Why are we following the most insufferable of the characters. Why is everything about him, even the parts about his sister. Blegh.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo - this canNOT be the same book tumblr couldn't stop talking about for months. I know I shouldn't judge a book by its sequel, but I know about the glowing demon dick. Come on. Also, like, the whole book was building up to rescuing someone and then THEY NEVER DID! wtf lol

Tress and the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson - Snooze. Yawn. Snore. One of the most boring books I've read. I was right to avoid Mr Sandwich and his books.

Whalefall by Daniel Kraus - I feel bad because someone hyped this a lot and was excited about it, and so I was excited about it, but it read like it was written specifically for a movie in mind. It's just Daddy Issues™️in the ocean.

This does not include rereads, of which Name of the Wind was one. Yes, I still loved that one. Still fun, still weird that it never felt long despite being a BRICK. Proof I don't hate long books because they're long, I hate long books that don't have to be long. Which is why the Dishonorable mention goes to Priory of the Orange Tree lol Get edited, beloathed.

Anyway! Onwards to 2024! :)

[flowercrowncrip]

ID: a photo of a river surrounded by green countryside. Ducks swim in the water which reflects the bright blue of the sky /end ID

I do the walk along the river in my town most days during summer, and every day I see something different. But today really stood out because I saw a kingfisher fly right past where I was sat

It’s only the third kingfisher that I’ve seen in my life and the first one I’ve seen here so it was really special. They’re such beautiful birds