#invisible floating bookshelf

[enchantingcreatordeer]

Invisible Floating Bookshelf for Wall Mounted, 4 Tier Vertical Spine Book Tower

【Innovative design】: Our floating bookshelves will transform the way you display and store your favorite books, and break the traditional bookshelf restrictions, you just stack your books onto the sturdy metal shelf, and then the shelf will become hidden behind the books, which make your books look like floating on the wall, funny and amazing to use.

$31.99

[m00nveil]

w101 housing advices from a somewhat seasoned house decorator that no one asked for

#1: GET YOUR CRAFTING LEVEL THE FUCK UP !!!!! and never ever ever sell your reagents. ever. the gold isn't worth it. there are so many amazing housing recipes you can buy and craft (torald wayfinder in northguard grizzleheim and perry in sky city lemuria for example).

#2: if you have limited resources like me, keep looking around in the bazaar for items. sometimes people sell some insanely good items! many of my best items come from the bazaar. and NEVER second guess whether you're gonna buy an item or not, cause people won't hesitate to snatch it. if you see it and like it, buy it.

#3: advanced move will save your life. when i discovered it i swear to god my life changed. if you click on an object you'll see a yellow arrow next to its name on the right. USE THAT!!! you can move objects wherever you wanna without having to deal with the grid, rotate them however you want except vertically, and make objects smaller or bigger. you can create a whole new thing from a bunch of items, like i created a fridge using alhazred's repository. note that this feature is only available for wizards lvl 15 and above.

#4: don't ignore the furniture set bundles in the crowns shop. i'm sure no one does but i still gotta say it. they're literally one of the most useful things for house decorating. the school and world furniture sets can all be bought for 22500 gold and there's so many amazing items in those. i especially recommend the khrysalis furniture sets and the myth and balance furniture sets, but all of them are gorgeous.

#5: some items can serve as alternative walls, for example dworgyn's fireplace and bookshelf from the death furniture sets. you can go absolutely crazy with them.

#6: keep going around worlds and find their furniture shops. all the worlds have a furniture shop/seller except avalon, khrysalis and mirage as far as i know, but i might be wrong. many of these furniture shops have some great items that you can utilize even if your crafting level isn't high. wallaru specifically has one of my favorite sofas in the game ever, the ice dwarf sofa.

#7: if you're ever in need for a teleporter or a few, go farm the painted spider in zafaria!

#8: don't forget to rate castles in castle tours so you can craft the regal and invisible floors and walls! you can find the recipes for those from angelica windspar in the castle tours building. you can apply wallpapers and floors to the regal ones, and they're especially useful for decorations, however they can get very buggy. you need to rate 100 castles to get the castle auditor rank to craft these.

#9: you can turn fish tanks invisible with castle magic and the fish won't disappear, so it looks like the fish are just floating. you can make custom aquariums!

#10: you can put house guests on bread crumbs and you can alter their behaviors too! they don't really change much, but setting their behavior to "sad" will show their death animation. if you need someone kneeling or laying down, it's perfect.

[chrystalwynd]

This is the opening scene for an ongoing saga I’m working on. The setting is Spellthorn Academy, an arcane institution with a prestigious history and a colorful, trouble-prone cast of rivals. Sort of a Harry Potter in Chrystal Heights thing. It’s rambling and weird and I have no idea where it’s going. You might want to avoid this altogether, come to think of it.

Welcome to Spellthorn Academy

Opening Scene Title: The Quiet Trap in the Stacks

Location: Spellthorn Academy Library – Early Afternoon

Tall arched windows cast a soft golden glow over the ancient shelves, which shift ever so slightly when no one’s watching. A few tomes float lazily overhead, humming quietly to themselves. The air smells of parchment, candle wax, and something vaguely floral- maybe illusion magic.

Mood: Calm, Gently Scheming

A peaceful afternoon for studying…or for springing a low-key arcane betrayal cloaked in helpful friendliness.

Characters Present:

Beth Arclight: A composed 24-year-old librarian associate mage, six months pregnant from a summoning ritual gone wrong. The Diony imp in her womb radiates chaotic energy. She’s mastered the spell of pregnancy transfer- a subtle, targeted spell requiring proximity, misdirection, and the right kind of distraction. Today she has a plan.

Dakota Bellamy: A bright, cautious, 22-year-old fourth-year student. She’s sharp, observant, and (sort of) respectful of rules. Especially in libraries.

*****

Beth stands behind the front desk, her figure mostly hidden by the long, dark folds of her enchanted robes. One hand rests casually on the swell of her belly—six months along and lightly pulsing with Diony imp mischief. She mutters a silencing charm under her breath just as the imp hiccups, nearly jostling a bookshelf thirty feet away.

Across the room, Dakota steps lightly between the aisles, arms stacked with tomes on foundational spellwork. She looks focused, unaware.

Beth (warm, friendly, totally not scheming):

“Dakota, sweetie? Would you mind lending me a quick hand?” She motions Dakota over with a radiant smile. “You have just the kind of magical signature I need for a stability test. Harmless little rune charm- takes two minutes, tops.”

Behind the desk, Beth’s fingers flick through invisible sigils, quietly weaving a pregnancy transfer matrix into place.

Dakota (blinks up from her books, then smiles politely):

“Sure, Beth. Just let me put these on the return shelf first.” She trots over, her leather boots scuffing softly against the polished stone floor.

Beth (nods approvingly):

“Wonderful. Come here- now just stand on that faintly glowing circle. Don’t mind the shimmer; it’s just a stability sigil.”

Dakota (glances down at the delicate whorl of violet light pulsing on the floor):

“Wow. That’s some serious rune layering.” She steps into it. “What is this for again?”

Beth (smiles, gently positioning her behind the desk):

“It’s for catalog calibration- helps with attunement drift in older enchantments. You’re helping real library magic here.”

Beth guides Dakota’s hand to a glowing rune-stone. The air tingles. The sigils flare faintly. A warm current passes between them.

Dakota (squinting):

“Is it supposed to feel warm?”

Beth (smile bright, unwavering):

“Perfectly normal.”

Inside Beth’s belly, the Diony imp stirs excitedly. The transfer matrix flares to life.

NEXT: The Quiet Trap in the Stacks- continued

[space-mermaid-writing]

Consort and King [IronStrange]

Summary: Anthony Stark, King of Midgard, needs a spouse. Whether he wants one or not. So he accepts an arranged marriage with the Prince of Kamar-Taj – a man he has never met in his life to the day they are standing in front of each other at the altar, speaking their vows. Is it possible that the feeling of duty grows into something more? Will their future be happy?

Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange

Tags: arranged marriage au, royal au, strangers to husbands, enemies to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, all the good stuff

Author's Note: I live. (Beta by @kvjjjjjj <3)

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Word count: 3.3k | Previous | Next

Chapter 5: No more magic!

Several weeks, several long weeks they'd been married and Tony was beginning to despair at his predicament. The Queen’s chambers had been made available for Stephen to use as his private rooms. Since their wedding night they'd not slept in a bed together and they barely spoke outside of the public view. Stephen was honest to his word: in matters of showing unity he was supportive of Tony – but privately they were two strangers who argued more than they spoke civilly to one another.

Although Strange was most of the time an arrogant asshole, Tony had to admit that he carried out his duties properly and conscientiously.

Pepper had shown him some of his papers and Strange had made all his judgments to Tony’s satisfaction. He also recommended intelligent suggestions for changes. His reports were neatly written and it was rare for Tony to correct anything. Mostly it was a weirdly specific law detail, which his consort couldn't possibly have known yet.

Tony knew his kingdom was in good hands – at least politically – should anything ever happen to him. Even if he had no intention of being kidnapped again. Getting stabbed three times in his chest once was enough.

Tony was also becoming insanely jealous of Stephen and Peter's relationship. He didn’t know how it had happened, but Stephen had let his guard down and Peter, like he did with everyone, had charmed him with his character, his laughter and enthusiasm. Lately all he spoke about was 'Strange this' and 'Strange that'.

He finally decided to visit his husband in his study. There was hope. If Strange could warm up to Peter, he couldn't be a total asshole.

It was the first time Tony has entered Strange's study since his husband had moved in.

Strange stood by a bookshelf – it was crammed full as if he hadn't brought any luggage other than books with him when he arrived. A cup hovered in the air next to him, as well as a quill that wrote on a piece of parchment by an invisible hand – also midair. With a snap of Strange’s fingers, a book flew off the shelf and the sorcerer directed it to the table.

Tony was very surprised at the display of magic. He knew that Strange was a sorcerer, but he hadn't seen much of it before. He was slightly taken aback to see it shoved right in his face like this. Quite literally, as a pot magically poured a second cup of tea, which flew to him. Tony followed it with his eyes, but didn't grab it. He had to force himself to not flinch.

Although it had been many years ago, he still remembered what it was like to see magic directed at him.

But this was not the work of a witch, he reminded himself. The Mystic Arts were a respectable field of magic. No one was playing with his mind.

Not yet, said that little voice in his head, that was not yet over what had happened back then.

Strange noticed his visitor. "Tony, what can I do for you?" He was relaxed, sounded almost friendly. With a gesture, he let the writing tools follow the book to the table. The pen continued to write, not caring about being moved to a different place.

"Uh," Tony said eloquently. He cleared his throat. "I hear you're improving Peter's chess skills." He stepped up to the table so as not to stand in the doorway. The floating cup followed him.

“Yes, he is a fast learner and an eager student.”

Tony smiled because that was true. “The boy is wicked smart.” The cup nudged at his sleeve. Irritated, Tony pushed it away. He leaned over the parchment to read what the quill wrote, but frowned when he saw that it was a treaty with Vanaheim they had discussed.

“You are using magic for your duties?”

Strange brushed it off. “I use magic for everything.” Because it was a part of him and it came as easy as breathing air.

“But you are not actually writing this contract.” This did not sit well with Tony.

“I am. Well, my quill is, but it’s basically the same thing.”

Tony looked from Strange to the quill that continued to write the whole time. They were the same neat letters he had seen in all of his husband's writings. “This is cheating. Do you think this is a joke?” Anger rose in Tony, because this matter was important to him and he felt disrespected. Strange didn’t even glance at the parchment to check what was written there.

“Is it beneath you to pick up the quill yourself?”

Strange’s jaw tensed, his eyes suddenly hard. “You don’t know what you are talking about. I-”

“Oh, I do,” Tony silenced him with a wave of his hand. “For I am the King of this realm as my father was before me and his father before him. I would do everything for my people and while I don’t expect you to feel the same, I do expect that you at least write an important contract with your own fucking hands!”

He shoved the irritating cup aside angrily, spilling the tea in the process.

Strange took a step back as if Stark had slapped him right across his face. Then the mask was back on.

“As you wish, your Majesty.” His voice cut like a knife, but Tony didn’t care. He turned and left, not wishing to be in the same room as Strange any longer.

All the suppressed emotions of the last few weeks boiled up inside him. The disappointment at his husband's rejection, Strange’s arrogance of not even trying to make an effort and now his audacity to not even do the one job he was here for.

Putting aside the fact that Tony was the king, the ruler of an entire country, he was also just a human being. And he had reached his limit.

When he reached the door, he turned to Strange once more. “And I want to see no more magic. None! Not even a flicker of light.”

He slammed the door behind him.

Tony had had enough. Ignoring the astonished looks of the guards nearby, Tony stomped down the corridor. This whole marriage had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have agreed to it.

Anyone who crossed his path only had to take one look at his face to see that it was wise to give him a wide berth.

Everyone except Pepper, who caught up to him with a pile of parchment rolls in her hands and even dared to talk to him. She was a very brave woman.

“I was looking for you.”

"What are my chances of a divorce that doesn't end in a political war?" Tony asked, not slowing down his steps.

Pepper turned her head and eyed him. “Almost nonexistent.”

“I figured.” Tony muttered. There was no backdoor out of this. He was stuck with this man.

Tony stopped, sighing. “I don’t know if I can do this.” There was no edge left in his voice as he confessed this. He felt defeated. “I don’t know if I can live with a husband who doesn’t even like me.” Suddenly all the stories of noblemen taking mistresses made so much more sense.

Pepper’s eyes soften. She put her hand on Tony’s shoulder. "Give him time. He's in a foreign country with foreign customs. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed."

“I’m not sure if time will change him. Maybe we are just too different.”

“Or too similar”, Pepper interjected.

Tony scoffed. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If you’re getting nasty, you can leave right away.”

Pepper sighed, sensing Tony's frustration. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I thought you two would complement each other well. On paper he looked like a good candidate. I didn't want you to be unhappy." She felt sincere remorse.

Pepper had been his right hand for years and Tony considered her a friend. All her decisions and suggestions had always proved very successful in the past. That was why he had entrusted her with finding a suitable spouse for him.

“You couldn’t have possibly known how he turned out,” Tony said softly.

“I should have. I triple checked every fact about him. Although, admittedly, there were a few gaps and unanswered questions. Mostly from the time when his parents declared his younger sister as the crown princess and before he started studying magic. There was no logical reason for both of them.”

"Well, obviously he has an aversion to everything regarding royalty." Tony shrugged his shoulders. It was no use complaining. But it was good to talk to a friend. And he could still decide not to crown Strange as king. Then he would remain a prince and a consort. His family in Kamar-Taj would probably be outraged – Tony could live with that – but Midgard would then be in a less strong position than with two kings – Tony wasn't so thrilled about that.

“Anyway, you said you were looking for me?”

“Yes.” Pepper shoved the parchment rolls into Tony’s arms. “I need you to have signed these by tonight.”

Tony sighed. “You know how to spoil me.”

_____________

At dinner, Tony and Strange met again sitting at opposite sides of the table. For once the king didn't care; he wouldn't have complained if Strange hadn't shown up today. But Stephen was dutiful enough to do it anyway. For him it was probably just another chore; like their whole marriage.

Tony focused on his meal. Pepper managed to have the cook make his favorite dish, Lemon Linguine. So that was something.

Wong was at Strange's side – as usual – pouring him wine. Tony paid no attention to the manservant, nor did he notice that his husband hesitated before reaching for his cutlery.

The sorcerer ate very slowly and deliberately, glad that Stark made no attempt at conversation. That way he could concentrate better on using his cutlery with more finesse than a three year old toddler. And that wasn't easy for him without magic. But the king's words on the matter had been clear and Stephen was stubborn enough to follow through.

He spilled some wine, but a quick glance told him that no one noticed.

Feeling safe, he became careless and suddenly the fork fell from his trembling hand, clattering loudly on the marble floor. All heads turned towards him and his cheeks burned with shame at his clumsiness.

Wong was quickly at his side, picking up the fork and wiping it clean before putting it back next to his plate.

Stephen didn't look at him or at Stark. He didn't want to know if the king was watching him, judgingly.

At this point, his fingers were shaking badly, and not just because of the damaged nerves. Fortunately, more servants appeared to clear the pasta and serve the second course.

At least Stephen thought it was his luck.

He stared at the trout on his plate, which stared back lifelessly with one glassy eye.

Yeah, there was no way he was going to fillet that. He would be able to cut the head off. But lifting the top half of the fish in a way that no bones remained in the flesh was out of the question. And picking out the fine bones that were stuck was even worse.

Before Wong could come to his aid yet again – and thus embarrass him even more – he pushed his chair back and stood up.

"If you'd excuse me. I'm not hungry today."

He put his napkin on the table and fled the dining room. Wong followed close behind him, not without giving the king a dirty look; as if this was all his fault.

Tony was surprised at first when Strange spoke, but he didn't stop him. If Strange was still sulking about earlier, fine. Tony didn't care.

_____________

Two days later, Tony entered Strange's study again annoyed.

"What is this?" he asked, slapping the contract for Vanaheim on the table where Strange was sitting.

At least the title of the document claimed to be the contract. Most of the text was illegible scrawl. “Is this a joke? Because I tell you, it is not funny.”

Strange had looked up from his work at the interruption and was now leaning back in his chair.

“You said, I need to use my ‘own fucking hands’ to write it.” His voice was calm. Too calm for the storm brewing in his deep blue eyes. Like when the sea retreated right before the tsunami came.

Tony was usually really good at reading people, but he was still too hung up on this argument. Too annoyed with everything to notice.

“I did! So why does this look like it was written by a five year old?”

“Because I can’t write properly if my life depended on it! I can’t do anything with my hands!” Stephen yelled. He jumped to his feet, holding his hands up in front of him. “They are useless!”

Tony was taken aback by this sudden outburst and his confession. He had expected many things, but not this. “What are you talking about?” It made no sense. He'd seen Strange do a lot of tasks with his hands. He used them all the time just fine. Besides that unusual clumsiness yesterday. And on their wedding day, he remembered. His fingers had been trembling, his touch light, and there had been scars under those gloves. Those damn gloves Strange was always wearing!

Stephen didn’t move an inch, staring at his hands. His mind seemed far away.

Tony reached out to carefully take Strange's wrist and gently pulled off his glove. Finger by finger.

The skin underneath was cold. Scars stretched across the slender fingers. Once certainly skillful, they were now shaking.

The second hand showed the same picture, only their wedding ring as an addition.

“What happened?” he asked softly; his anger gone.

His voice brought Stephen back to the present and he pulled his hands back as if he had suddenly been burned. The sorcerer sat down, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

"I don't want you to see me like this. Please leave" His voice broke at the end.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he stubbornly sat down. That made Stephen finally look up, defiant that Stark had not complied with this simple request.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tony said. “But you are my husband and I vowed at our wedding to stand beside you for better and worse. So whatever it is you think you can’t tell me… I won’t think less of you nor will I reject you.” There was clearly a story here, along with trust issues.

Tony sighed when Stephen remained silent. He wished his husband would stop pushing him away. Stop hiding from him.

He hated the silence that threatened to spread again.

"A little over a year ago my uncle tried to get rid of me and usurp the throne," he began to say without really knowing why. The words just spilled out of his mouth. "He was successful. I wouldn't have survived if I hadn't had such loyal knights. They found me with three stab wounds in my chest."

His fingers moved involuntarily to the spot where scars still bore witness to the deed. He had been lucky enough to just lose a part of his lung and not his life.

He still had nightmares about it sometimes.

"I'm not telling you this to make this about me. I just want you to know that you're not alone."

Stephen had listened to his words with a blank face not saying anything for a while.

There was a pause and just when Tony thought nothing more would come… "It was an accident." Strange's voice was hoarse, as if it would take a great deal of effort for him to even utter a single word. "It was my own fault. I was arrogant and it became my downfall." He looked down at his scarred fingers. “My hands were crushed.”

His eyes settled back on Tony as his voice became more neutral – as if he had just been a bystander to the events he was telling about. “There was no way to fix me and my parents saw me no longer fit for the throne. As a last resort, I turned to magic; probably only because my parents despised it. But it helped me. I wasn’t useless anymore.”

Tony was beginning to realize just why Stephen had hated their marriage so much. "I'm sorry I said no more magic," he apologized.

Stephen nodded, seeing he was genuine in his apology. "I always thought I’d at least have a say in who I’d marry. But it was simply presented to me: ‘there, do it for your kingdom, they need you, as their prince. And it's the best offer you're ever going to get’. It was very convenient for my parents that I had to move here."

"They said that to you?" Tony asked bewildered. "That this was the ‘best offer' you'd get?"

Stephen nodded again, "I always thought they weren't in a rush. Now I think maybe it's because nobody else ever wanted me."

Tony felt the overwhelming need to hold him and so he reached out a hand and took Stephen’s. "I'm sorry, that this marriage took you away from the life you obviously loved so much," he said gently.

But then again – Strange was a prince and with that title came certain responsibilities.

“Please don’t think I’m ungrateful. This,” Stephen wiggled his fingers, “has nothing to do with you. It's something I have to come to terms with myself. I understand if you find them repulsive. They are not great to look at.”

Tony ran his hand through his hair, sighing. “Okay, now, that’s a lot to unpack here. First of all, thank you for sharing your story with me. If I had known all of this…”

"You wouldn't have agreed to the wedding?" Stephen interjected questioningly.

“I admit you haven’t been the package deal I was hoping for, but trust me when I say that this has nothing to do with your hands and more with your unwillingness to be nice.”

Offended Stephen opened his mouth. “Rude.” But it lacked sharpness, because Tony wasn’t wrong there. From the first day – since the night of their wedding to be precise – Stephen had put an invisible wall between them.

"I'm sorry I am not the husband you wished for," he added.

Tony smiled gently. This was finally the first step towards each other, that he had waited so long for.

"So, how does the magic help your hands?" He asked curiously.

"Well, for one I don't need to grab things." Stephen demonstrated by flying in two goblets and a bottle of wine from a secret stash. Good to know he had one.

Tony didn't object as the bottle poured them both a drink.

“I can also channel magic through my hands to stabilize them. It only works for some time but it is enough to make do.” Stephen lifted his glass and swirled the liquid in it.

Their eyes met and Tony had a feeling that they had come to a silent agreement.

“Do they hurt?” he asked bluntly.

"Some days more than others."

Tony nodded in understanding. "Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe and I'm suffocating."

Stephen lifted his goblet and they clinked them.

It was good wine, not one Tony knew. Probably another one from Kamar-Taj. He needed to ask Stephen to get more of it. The bottle topped them up on its own. That was magic he could handle.

When Tony had gotten up this morning, he hadn't thought he would bond with his husband over past physical trauma, but here he was. And he didn’t complain.

_____________

Taglist: @goopierthenyou (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

[nymphcria]

NYMPHEARTED — some say that a small café shows up when you're at your lowest, tucked away in places you’d never think to look; behind a rusted gate, through a door you swear wasn’t there before, in the middle of a quiet forest.

step inside, and you might notice a girl drifting between tables, teapot in one hand, a tray balanced in the other, usually with a cat at her heels or a squirrel perched on her shoulder. sometimes a rabbit peeks out from under a chair when she passes, like even the animals can’t help but trail after her. she moves like she’s barely touching the ground, light-footed, almost floating. blink, and she’s somewhere else, vanishing behind curtains or slipping through the back door like a shadow. it’s like she’s stitched into the place, part of the café’s rhythm and tugging on invisible strings to keep everything running.

ˏˋ⋆ nymphea — simplified version of nymphaea, the botanical name for water lilies, derived from the greek nymphē (νύμφη), meaning "nymph" or "bride."

ㅤㅤㅤrulebook ﾉ the café ﾉ bookshelf ﾉ art tag ﾉ headcanons ﾉ playlist . ࣪ㅤ⋆ ㅤㅤㅤanons ⑅ 🍂, 🍬, 🐚, 🦉, 🐈‍⬛, ⭐ ㅤㅤㅤooc will be preceded by a sunflower ( 🌻 ) or ꒰ ooc ꒱

[paganfantasy]

Superhero Floating Bookshelf

https://amzn.to/4jmt7KB

Creative Alternative To Bookcase. Invisible Bookshelf Displays Books in Cool Way.

[betterillusionist]

Necromancer Study Buddy

"Wha-? Hey! Mal, let go!"

But Malorn holds fast as he drags a panicking Duncan behind him.

"What are you doing?!" Duncan continues to complain, twisting and turning with all his might to no avail.

"I'm getting you out of the house, that's what I'm doing," Malorn replies, not bothering to turn to face his friend. "Just because Malistaire isn't here anymore doesn't mean you get to stop studying."

Duncan grits his teeth and reluctantly allows himself to be dragged along. Being pulled from his home was certainly not on his to-do list today; he very much felt more like becoming a vegetable than eager to study. But it's not like he was going to do anything else useful with his time. In a way, part of him is grateful for Malorn showing up like he did.

The longer the two walk, out of Triton Avenue and up the steep slopes of Olde Town, nearing the Shopping District, pins and needles dance across Duncan's entrapped hand.

"Dude, let go. I can't feel my hand."

"Sorry," Malorn mutters, promptly releasing him from his tight grip. Duncan takes a moment to nurse his poor hand before trudging along behind his friend.

"I'm guessing you have a plan in mind?" Duncan asks as they pass by the Wizard City shops.

"Sort of," Malorn admits with a shrug. "I've been going to the library and pulling books off shelves."

A frown plasters itself onto Duncan's face. "Seriously?"

"You have any better ideas?" Malorn retorts. "The Professor's gone. The classroom's gone. The textbooks are useless without a teacher. Might as well go poking around ourselves."

He makes a good point. Without a Professor to direct them and answer questions and explain concepts and spells as they arise, they're at a loss with the school-issued textbooks. But what good is pulling books off shelves at random?

"Boris has been pretty helpful, too," Malorn continues as they stroll, noting Duncan's skeptical scowl. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

"Alright..." Duncan sighs skeptically.

They make their way around the lake of the Commons, heading towards the small-looking building that is the Ravenwood Library. Within its walls exists a seemingly endless supply of books and shelves, with reading spaces dotted about at random. The books within float about by invisible hands, constantly engaged in the complicated dance of rearrangement, as if they're constantly dissatisfied with where they rest on their shelves. As they enter, the kindly head librarian from Marleybone, Harold Argleston, raises his shaggy head to greet the two Necromancers.

"Ah, well if it isn't Malorn Ashthorn and Duncan Grimwater!" he says merrily. He leans forward in his seat, pushing aside the open ledger before him. "Is there anything I can help you boys with today?"

"We're just here to read some books about Necromancy," Malorn replies. "Is Boris around?"

"The lad should be somewhere in the back," Mr. Argleston chuckles. "You know how to find him."

"Great! Thanks, Mr. Argleston."

With that, the two students make their way into the maze of bookshelves.

"Doesn't he also have classes to attend?" Duncan can't help but ask. It always feels like Boris is hiding away in the library, buried in books all day, completely neglecting his studies as a Diviner. How come he gets to play in the library all day whereas Duncan hardly gets any time to himself?

Malorn just shrugs back at a loss for words.

As they take a few more twists and turns in the vast expanse of the library, Malorn finally cups his hands around his mouth and calls out, "Boris? Boris!"

For a long moment, there's no reply. Not even a shift of cloth moving nearby. No footsteps ring in the air. Duncan doesn't frequent the library; he hardly reads despite his own home library being fully stocked with all sorts of family tomes. He can't help but find Malorn's aimless calling a little weird.

But then the point of a long yellow hat appears, growing longer and longer until Boris Tallstaff is peering at them from behind a nearby bookshelf. He's smiling, as if he had been expecting them for the longest time.

"Hi there!" he greets them, stepping into full view. His arms are full with an assortment of books, but despite their number and size he doesn't appear too concerned by their weight. His gaze shifts from Malorn to Duncan, and his smile grows wider. "You finally dragged him along, eh?"

"Yep," Malorn replies with a slight chuckle. "Is the study space prepared?"

"Of course!" Boris answers, nodding his head in a way that indicates that they should follow him. Beaming, Malorn starts off after the Diviner, Duncan still in reluctant tow.

Boris leads the Necromancers to a small space between the bookshelves. A single table lined with two long benches sits in the center of the space, candle flames flickering with soft orange light in their candelabras. Multiple stacks of books, each one bound by black covers, litter most of the space on and around the table, leaving but a small space for one to actually sit and read.

All of this was prepared in advance? Duncan lets out an impressed whistle.

"I think I got everything you'll need for the next few days," Boris speaks. "If there's anything else you want, feel free to let me know."

"Thanks, Boris," Malorn nods. "I think this is good for now."

"Happy studying!"

With that, the student librarian returns to his previous work, disappearing around a corner. His footsteps continue for a short moment before falling silent altogether, as if he suddenly stopped existing.

Malorn gestures to the table way too enthusiastically for a study session. "Ready to get started?"

"We're reading all of this?" Duncan asks, once again looking over the mountain of books. The more he counts the spines, the less eager he is to sit and start.

"Pretty much," Malorn nods back.

Duncan can't help but let out a groan at the task ahead of him. Yes, admittedly, he's been neglecting his studies. It's easy to do when one no longer has a Professor nor a classroom to turn to. Even their teaching assistant - poor Dworgyn; Duncan sort of liked him... kind of... when he wasn't annoying - is gone, and the Headmaster hasn't bothered getting them a new one for the time being.

"Hey, if you're not going to study, you can always take the Headmaster's offer and switch schools," Malorn adds casually, turning towards the table.

"We had that conversation!" Duncan retorts as if it were a valid point. He's not switching schools. Period. It'd feel like a betrayal on his part if he ever did, so he doesn't allow himself to entertain such a thought.

"Then sit down and start reading," Malorn replies firmly. "Malistaire wouldn't want you slacking."

A little pang of guilt stabs Duncan's heart at the statement. Indeed, Professor Drake would hate to see one of his star students behind on studying...

His gaze sinks to the floor, his body feeling heavy. He wasted the last week doing absolutely nothing with himself. If the Professor saw him now, he'd be extremely disappointed.

Duncan takes his seat across the table from Malorn and picks up the first book within his reach. It's time to stop wasting his time and get back to work. He has people to make proud of him.

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Hi there ! Can I request for an angst fic with Snatcher sad while Hat Kid comforts him? Thanks !

'Life' as a Ghost Drabbles: You Okay?

“I don’t wanna talk right now so uh… buzz off,” Snatcher said, making a halfhearted shooing gesture with his hand at Hat Kid as she floated through the wall into his reading hovel.

Him being grumpy and/or too busy reading making him not in the mood to chat wasn’t terribly uncommon. Normally she just left, there were times when she didn’t want to be bothered either and when on the rare occasion she had cause to voice them to him, he respected it. But his tone was far too soft to for him to be grumpy and he wasn’t reading, instead apparently just staring at the wall. If she didn’t know better she’d say he looked sad. He didn’t have any cause to be sad though, right? It was summer, no ice or snow in sight. Maybe something else had happened though.

So instead of leaving, she floated closer. “You okay?”

His gaze followed her, not turning into a scowl despite her not heeding his request. Proof that he wasn’t grumpy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Just… normally you don’t sit in your hovel unless you’re reading and you’re not reading. People doing things that are abnormal usually mean they’re not okay.”

“Yeah, guess that’s true.”

“So… that’s a ‘no’ on you being okay then?”

“Look kid, it ain’t your job to… comfort me or whatever you’re trying to do. Just leave. I’ll get over it.”

“I want to help though… if I can. What’s wrong?”

He stared at her in silence for several long seconds before sighing. “I borrowed some of your Time Piece thingies and used them to time travel.”

“That’s bad! You saw what happened with Mu. What’d you change?” Nothing too big considering everything was still the same but as was proper protocol she had to go and fix it anyway. One small change could sometimes become a bunch of big changes that lead to the world destabilizing anyway.

“Nothing. I just watched.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. You’re allowed to do that even if it’s not recommend because of how tempting it is to mess with stuff. You should’ve asked to borrow them first though because I should’ve gone with you to make sure you didn’t change anything. And uh… you better be telling the truth about not messing with the timeline.”

“No worries, kiddo, I promise, it’d be very obvious if I changed anything.”

Oh! He was talking about the whole thing with Vanessa, huh? She should’ve guessed that immediately, huh? But… “Why would you go back and watch that?”

“Watch… oh, you think… nah, I didn’t go back to that. I tried to go back to before I was born and uh… didn’t quite succeed. It was a mistake. One I will not be repeating. So now you know why I’m feeling miserable, please leave.” He lifted a hand to repeat his shooing motion. “Go check and make sure I’m not lying or accidentally changed something anyway.”

She should. That’s what protocol called for. But also that was why he’d told her, huh? To give her a reason to leave him alone. A good reason but alas for him, she believed he didn’t change anything. He would’ve been invisible the whole time, making him the perfect observer.

“Nah, I’m good. I wanna stay here.” She floated over to the small bookshelf in the corner and pulled one of the fiction titles off of it. She then floated up to sit on said shelf, putting her about on eye level with him as she opened the book. “I’ll be quiet though, promise.” Quiet company had to be better than sitting in lonely silence, thinking too much about wanting to have changed things but knowing he couldn’t have.

He sighed again but relaxed back into his chair. “Whatever. I don’t care.” He did reach over to the the little table – little by comparison to him – and pull his book off it though, opening it as he pulled it close. Good, reading should help him feel better.

[chris-continues]

Would you teach me?

In which Lilith Clawthorne becomes a mentor for a human who’d stumbled into the Boiling Isles.

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

EXTRA NOTES: Self insert (of myself), Lilith is a bookworm, I’m gonna write more of her because she’s literally me fr (we’re both history nerds and she’s very cool)

The winding corridors of the castle had taken some getting used to- Chris had to be given a mini map in the form of an orb he’d carried around, urged time and time again to never let anyone outside of the coven get ahold of. It floated above his palm, shifting with each movement he made. Better to focus on said item rather than the lingering looks he always got- having never received a coven uniform and instead cloaked in his… usual human clothes.

Very out of place.

Perhaps he could learn magic, as foolish as it seemed. Lilith hadn’t audibly entertained the idea, in fact ever since they’d met she’d been minimal comments and the kindest emotion she’d displayed was obedience towards the emperor.

His free hand reached towards the door, unlocking it with the key he held in his sleeve as he welcomed the sight of the fine room. As a coven leader, she’d been granted lesser inspections and fine luxuries. Tomes and novels lined a large bookshelf and her nightstand, a hot plate resting snugly in a crevice he eyed.

“Hello,” she curtly greeted, legs tucked criss cross with her back against the headboard of her bed. Her hands skimmed the pages of her book. Chris paused before closing the door behind him, briskly walking towards his own bed as he continued to toy with the orb.

“You hold a real fascination for that thing, hm.” She observed, flipping to the next page of her book.

“Yeah.” He swallowed, adjusting his position in bed once more. “Uh, Ms. Lilith?”

“Hm?” She hummed, thumb swiping at the corner of another page.

“Do you think I could learn magic?”

The question weighed heavy in the air as she peered up from her book, “Humans can’t practice magic, for now you’ll have to look for other ways to assist the emperor.” She declared.

Chris sighs.

He’d assumed as much.

He tilted his wrist, the orb following. “If only. Watching you do magic.. it’s really cool.” He admitted, and suddenly her interest was far more piqued.

“You think so?”

“Yeah! There’s a reason why you’re leader of the coven, right?” He shifted the orb once more, “How many years did it take you anyway?”

She cleared her throat, settling her: Eat, Sleep, History, Repeat bookmark into the page she was currently on. “Many. Many years of study- being a witch is a whole feat of itself.“ Ah, lecture mode.

“Could I watch you do magic? Just.. a small spell? And why can’t humans do spells?” Questions continued to tumble from his lips, curiosity building. The Boiling Isles were truly intriguing.

“Presumably, in ancient times witches could cast spells in ways differing from present times. Nowadays, there is a sack at the pericardium of a witch’s heart that holds fluid needed for magic.” Lilith explains, smoothing out her skirt. “That is something only a witch’s anatomy contains.” She concludes, brushing invisible dust off of the cover of her book as she snaps the hardcover shut (with care, of course). “Magic doesn’t simply appear out of nowhere, as most humans like to believe.” She sends a knowing glance up at Chris, quirking her eyebrow.

“I thought it came from like… ancient runes? Or something with power imbued somewhere.. like an energy source..?” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. Magic wasn’t something he’d pondered a whole lot, the hustle and bustle of everyday life taking priority over whatever fantasy he’d conjured up for a story in his limited free time.

Now, he had all the time to think about it.

“That’s plausible.” She hums, “But alas, cardiac bile is what’s been powering witches as of present.”

Chris’ face hardens slightly,

“Ah! But I’m sure you could.. try?” Her hands are awkwardly midair in some frozen position of reassurance from across the room, “I’ve heard of more far fetched things occurring!” Her voice tapers off awkwardly, tinging into something out of her field.

“That’s plenty reassuring,” he rolls his shoulders, head tipping back, then side to side in a few resounding cracks that reverberate in the room. “Worst case scenario.. there are other things I can try to learn here. I don’t want to just sit around all day doing nothing.”

Lilith’s eyes flit down to the cover of her book once more that lay upon her lap. “That’s… understandable.”

Silence fell between them once more.

“But I’d love to help you in any way I can! And maybe I could learn magic somehow along the way.” Hope filled his eyes as she glanced over once more, hands on her knees moving to clasp each other softly.

“I suppose so.”

He looked so.. so youthful. Something she’d never really considered or given a second thought to.

So… like her. Back when she was just starting in magic. Her eyes cast down to her book, slight smile playing at her lips. A distant memory of when she’d been a young hopeful witch.

“Would you teach me?”

Her head snapped up, “What?”

He curled in on himself, wondering if he’d spoken out of line. “Ah- sorry.” Brows pinching as he took a peculiar interest in his socks rather than the witch across from him. What was he thinking? Some lady he’s barely known just shy of a few days teaching him magic? Something he was biologically not capable of- at least from what he knew. She was a respected leader here, he couldn’t just waltz in and add more to her plate-

“If you find a way, I’ll teach you.”

“Wait- really?” He gasped, hands tapping his knees excitedly, “You would?”

She nods, watching as Chris almost jumps out of his skin (in a good way), buzzing like a bee as his hands flap excitedly. “Could I do research? Like- if there’s a library? Or something like that- or your books, if you don’t mind, of course.” His hands move as he speaks, gaze expectantly meeting Lilith’s.

She raises an index finger in a signal to wait, “Feel free- don’t bend them though, or dog ear any pages, or-“

“Proper book etiquette, of course. I hate when people ruin books.” He frowns in understanding, “I’ll take care of them!”

“Good. May my books rest assured, then.” She hums, leaning back to continue reading, but not before sparing him a warning glance. It didn’t hold too much fire when the victim of said glance was brimming with anticipation on what was to come.

She exhaled, and to her mirth picked up from where she left off in her book.

[cttbo-blog]

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[atplblog]

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[interiordesignbd2]

Design Your Dream: 7 Unexpected Interior Ideas That Will Change Your Home Forever

When it comes to designing your dream home, it's easy to fall into familiar patterns—neutral colors, minimalist furniture, and predictable layouts. But the truth is, your space should reflect your personality and offer surprises that ignite creativity and comfort. In this post, we’ll explore 7 unexpected interior design ideas that can transform your home in ways you may not have imagined. These ideas will not only elevate your space but also make it uniquely yours. Ready for some home transformation? Let’s dive in!

Check this page: best interior design company in bangladesh

1. The Power of Hidden Storage: Embrace Sleek, Invisible Organization

We all crave a clutter-free environment, but sometimes the visible storage options can take up more space or create unnecessary visual noise. Enter the world of hidden storage.

Imagine having a bookshelf that doubles as a door to your home office, or under-bed drawers that blend seamlessly with the floor. Custom cabinetry that slides open with the touch of a button, or even secret compartments built into the walls, can work wonders for tidying up your home without sacrificing aesthetic appeal. This design idea isn't just about decluttering—it's about creating a sense of intrigue and mystery in your own space.

Tip: Consider incorporating multi-functional furniture, such as an ottoman that opens to reveal extra blankets or a coffee table with concealed storage underneath. The possibilities are endless!

2. Bold Color Blocking: Color as Architecture

While many people opt for subtle tones and harmonious color palettes, color blocking is making a comeback as a way to bring energy and a sense of architectural structure to interiors. Whether you decide to use contrasting colors on the walls, or introduce color blocks through furniture and accessories, the result is a bold and modern statement.

By creating distinct "zones" in a room with different colors, you can guide the eye and add dynamic visual interest to your space. This technique works especially well in open-plan homes, where defining areas (like a dining nook or a cozy reading corner) helps create balance and structure.

Tip: Don’t shy away from bright hues like cobalt blue, burnt orange, or even mustard yellow! These tones work wonderfully in kitchens, living rooms, and even bathrooms. Experiment with vertical or horizontal lines to shape your space.

3. Textural Contrast: Mixing Materials for Maximum Impact

The interplay of different textures is one of the simplest yet most effective ways to elevate your interiors. Imagine pairing a sleek, polished marble countertop with a rugged reclaimed wood dining table or soft velvet cushions on a modern leather couch. This combination of smooth, rough, shiny, and matte surfaces creates a dynamic atmosphere that feels inviting yet sophisticated.

The key to mastering texture is balance. Too many rough surfaces can overwhelm the senses, while too many smooth or plush elements can make a space feel one-dimensional. Mixing textures thoughtfully can create depth, warmth, and personality in any room.

Tip: Pair natural materials like wood, stone, or clay with luxe finishes such as brass or glass for an elegant yet grounded feel.

4. Unexpected Art Installations: Wall Sculptures and Floating Galleries

We’re all familiar with traditional framed paintings or photographs, but what if your walls could tell a more interactive or sculptural story? Wall art doesn’t have to be confined to a frame or canvas. Consider incorporating 3D sculptures, oversized woven tapestries, or even repurposed materials that hang or project from the walls.

Floating galleries, where frames are arranged in unexpected places (such as along the edge of a staircase or mounted on vertical rods), can transform a dull wall into a dynamic focal point. These installations draw the eye and bring a playful, creative vibe to the space.

Tip: Play with asymmetry! Arranging artwork in an intentionally non-symmetrical fashion can make the space feel more casual and contemporary.

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5. Statement Ceilings: The Fifth Wall

While the floor and walls get most of the attention, the ceiling—the "fifth wall"—offers an often-overlooked opportunity for design innovation. Add drama by painting your ceiling in a bold color, using wallpaper with intricate patterns, or even installing wood panels or tiles.

In spaces with high ceilings, consider hanging pendant lighting or dramatic chandeliers to create depth and contrast. For rooms with lower ceilings, reflective or light colors can open up the space and make it feel more expansive.

Tip: In smaller spaces like bathrooms or entryways, a richly detailed ceiling can make the area feel more luxurious without crowding the room with extra furniture.

6. Indoor-Outdoor Flow: Nature Inside

As we spend more time indoors, connecting our living spaces with the natural world is becoming increasingly important. One unexpected way to do this is by integrating natural elements into your interior design. Large plants, vertical gardens, and even living walls can bring a sense of calm and serenity.

Sliding doors, large windows, or even a cleverly designed indoor-outdoor room that extends into the garden or patio can enhance this connection to nature. Imagine lounging in your living room while looking out onto a lush garden or a beautifully landscaped patio—this blurred line between indoors and outdoors creates a seamless, tranquil living experience.

Tip: Choose plants that thrive in low light for bedrooms and hallways, and larger statement plants like fiddle-leaf figs for living areas to create visual interest and purify the air.

7. Transformative Lighting: Beyond the Ordinary

Lighting is often an afterthought in interior design, but it’s one of the most powerful tools you can use to change the mood and perception of a room. Instead of relying solely on overhead lights, experiment with layered lighting—table lamps, sconces, and floor lamps positioned to create depth, texture, and ambiance.

Incorporate unique fixtures like pendant lights in unexpected places (e.g., above a bathtub or a dining area), or use colored lighting to make a space feel warm and inviting. You can even make a bold statement with smart lighting systems that change the atmosphere with just a tap on your phone.

Tip: Consider using dimmable lights to adjust the mood based on time of day or occasion, and place lights strategically to highlight artwork or design features.

Final Thoughts: Transforming Your Space, One Idea at a Time

Your home is a reflection of you—your personality, style, and values. By incorporating these unexpected interior design ideas into your space, you’re not just decorating a room; you’re creating an environment that sparks creativity, comfort, and joy. Don’t be afraid to step outside the traditional design box and embrace new concepts that challenge conventional norms.

Remember, the beauty of interior design lies in its flexibility and the ability to make a space uniquely your own. So, take a leap and start implementing these unexpected ideas—you might just find that your dream home is closer than you think.

Related Post:  interior design company in dhaka

[logarhythm-bees]

The Carousel Kingdom 🏰 CH10 Play Pretend

Masterlist

Prev - Next

The back room door creaks open, and Thomas stands there with his notebook. “I have an idea!” 

Everyone turns to look at him, Patton and Logan peeking out from a bookshelf. Virgil notices, amused, that they hold hands. Patton notices him noticing and flushes.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to get close to the castle unnoticed yet,” Thomas explains, “and we know the guard has been sent out here, so they’re probably stationed for a while. I think we should try to get Janus alone and talk to them.”

“As do I,” Logan responds. “Janus is prone to working in their own self interest over anything else. If we play our cards right, I think we can convince them to join our cause.”

“We can get close to them while they’re on patrol?” Patton suggests. Virgil hums.

“Janus is their leader, so we’ll have to inhibit them somehow.” Virgil mutters, continuing on the idea. “Maybe one of us could lead the guard one way, and Logan could trip Janus with xer magic. That might get Janus alone.”

“It’s a good idea,” Logan starts, “but I think we need something more to get Janus away from the group. Though any spell I can offer to help, I’ll do my best.”

“We could…float them away?” Patton suggests, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I got nothing.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, patting Patton on the shoulder. Patton smiles at him. “Too bad we can’t sneak around invisible all the time, huh?”

“Wait.” Virgil exclaims. “It might be too much for us to be invisible, but maybe we can make *Janus* invisible! And then make it sound like their voice is coming from somewhere else?”

“That could work.” Logan says. “Perhaps we can disguise you as Roman, to lead the guard away. It would be a good opportunity to practice the glamour spell, and for you to get used to being under it.”

“For me to get used to it?” Virgil asks.

“You shouldn’t feel it as anything besides- a faint sparkle, I think, is the best way to describe it. It doesn’t hurt, and you’ll hardly notice it. I meant you should get used to acting like someone other than yourself.”

“Ooh! I love acting.” Roman exclaims. “I could help you prepare, Virgil?” 

Virgil blushes. “Sure. I…wouldn’t mind that.”

“I can work on the spell, while you are working on that.” Logan says. “Patton, would you…be opposed to helping me?”

“Me?” Patton startles. “I mean, sure!” 

“It would be a good opportunity to review more magic,” Logan explains, summoning xer notebook. “And I could use your help perfecting the disguise, with the difference between our pupils. I don’t want to accidentally inhibit any of your vision,” xey say, gesturing over Virgil.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to not see.” Virgil says.

“I’ll take care of things here,” Thomas says. I’ll see if I can find anything in the library that could help any of you.”

“Great!” Roman says, springing to their feet and grabbing Virgil’s hand. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to practice theater! I mean, even without the horse thing, I got so busy with royal responsibilities, but- besides the point!” They exclaim. “Let’s go!”

“Ah!” Virgil says, flustered, pulled behind Roman as they run out into the library. He turns back for a second, waving at Patton. “Good luck with the magic?”

“Good luck with the acting!” Patton shouts back.

Roman drags Virgil up to the library’s second story, in a little sitting area between the shelves. Roman sits in one seat, patting the one next to them. Virgil sits next to them, giving a little huff of laughter. 

“Okay, so. Have you done any acting on Earth?” Roman asks.

“Besides acting like my mental health is stable?” Virgil huffs self-deprecatingly.

Roman raises an eyebrow at him.

“…I worked at a haunted house once.” Virgil amends.

“A haunted house?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, blushing. “Earth thing, it’s fun. People dress up in spooky costumes, and other people come through and get scared by them. In, like, a fun way, though.”

“Interesting.” Roman says. “But it sounds like you’re already ahead on character work!”

They put their hand on Virgil’s shoulder encouragingly, and Virgil feels his face warm. “Character work, huh!”

“Yeah!” Roman exclaims. “Like pretending to be someone you’re not. I’ll demonstrate!”

They hop up from their chair, pacing on the floor. “Ah!” They say, lighting up. 

All of a sudden, they change, their denamor shifting. They brush off an invisible skirt, looking at Virgil and clearing their throat.

“Good sir,” Roman starts, in a country accent that makes Virgil snort in surprise, “I seem to have forgotten where I left my horse. I need him to get back home, you see, as it’s a long way there and I’ve quite a lot to carry from the market.”

“I’ll help you find your horse, good farmer.” Virgil chuckles. “Have you checked at the horse stable over yonder? Maybe he wandered off and someone brought him there!”

“I reckon you might just be right!” Roman says, peering over an imagined hill. “Ah, there he is! Thank you for your help, handsome gent.”

They kiss Virgil’s hand, and Virgil makes a flustered noise. Roman bows.

“Aaand scene!” They say. “That was great, Virgil!”

“…Awesome. Yeah, great. You were great too,” Virgil stammers. “Uhm, glad you found your horse?”

“That’s another important part of acting!” Roman exclaims, not noticing- or just choosing to ignore- Virgil’s reddening face. “Props! Even if they don’t exist!” 

“Like invisible horses?” Virgil says, hiding his blushing cheeks by turning into his hoodie.

“Yes!” Roman agrees. “Or a bookcase, or a wand, or-ooh! Pretend you have a sword! On guard!” Roman says, brandishing an imaginary sword at him.

Virgil swings one back in their direction. “I played a lot of Star Wars pretend as a kid. Fear my lightsaber!”

“I don’t even know what that is!” Roman says, grinning. “Hiyah!”

Virgil pretends to deflect the attack, swinging at Roman, who blocks. Virgil bounces himself back a respectable lightsaber-battle distance. 

“You think you can defeat me?” Virgil asks. “I have the power of God and anime on my side!”

“I-what?” Roman laughs, swinging again. “What are you talking about?”

“Earth thing.” Virgil says. “I’ll explain it to you later. When I win!” 

Hooking one foot around Roman’s, he trips them a little. Roman stumbles and drops their imaginary sword.

“Ah, I’ve been disarmed!” Roman laments, flopping to the floor unrealistically. “You’ve beaten me, fair foe.”

Virgil clicks his tongue and winks in a second of confidence, offering Roman his hand. “Truce?”

“I suppose I must,” Roman sighs, smiling. 

“I don’t really know how this is going to help me be a good spy,” Virgil admits as they help Roman to their feet. Roman smiles at them sheepishly.

“It’s always good to be able to improvise.” They say. “But I suppose I got a bit swept up in being able to practice performance with someone else. I used to…”

Bits of fuzz from their tail become coils between their fingers as they fiddle with it anxiously, “I used to play pretend with Remus, when we were young. I suppose we’ve both grown out of it now.”

Their blinking becomes rapid and Virgil falters, taking their hand. 

“I just- Remus is abrasive, sure, but we were friends when we were kids. He never had any interest in the throne, and I certainly never got the impression he was going to- usurp me!” Roman sniffles. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore?”

Virgil isn’t sure what to do besides shrug as Roman wipes their cheek. “I don’t know. But I’m here to help, okay? So is Patton, and your friends.”

Roman nods shamefully. “I’m sorry you got brought into this whole thing. But I’m glad you’re here. It’s just- you’re so nice, and brave, and I feel like all I’ve done is bring you into my problems.”

“Hey, we volunteered to come help.” Virgil replies. “And it’s okay, seriously, Roman. We get that you need help. I wouldn’t hold that against you.”

Roman crushes him in a hug, and Virgil catches them.

“Thank you.” They say, sniffling. “You and Patton- I know we haven’t known each other long, but you two are some of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“You too.” Virgil says, patting them on the shoulder. “I- you’re a good friend, I mean.”

Roman leans out of the hug, smiling a little bit. “I’m glad.”

Virgil smiles back at them, feeling his cheeks warm and choosing to ignore it. “Forget the spy stuff for now,” he says, “You like theater, right? Why don’t you tell me about one of your favorite plays? I’m sure we can find it in the library.”

“Really?” Roman exclaims in excitement. “People, ah, usually don’t want to listen to my rambles. Well, Thomas and Logan did, but I got too busy with prince-work, I suppose.”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Virgil says. “And then I’ll tell you about Earth memes.”

“Okay!” Roman exclaims, grabbing Virgil’s hand and dragging him towards a bookshelf. “I’ve always liked *Eather Anemoi,* it’s right over here! There’s a painter in it who’s clever but kind, just like you!”

Virgil laughs as he pulls his hood down and hopes Roman doesn’t notice the red painting his cheeks.

[five-rivers]

Wraith

It wasn't often that Danny woke pale, silver, and transparent in the middle of the night.  Almost invisible, easy to take as a trick of moonlight, unmistakably ghostly, he hated it.  Not so much the change itself, but that he couldn't control it, couldn't predict it. 

Couldn't turn back. 

Fear of discovery drove him out of Fentonworks on those nights, to catch the sodium-gold glow of streetlights and the diamond glimmer of stars in his glass-clear skin and mist-colored veins. 

He called it patrol.  It wasn't, really.  There had never been a ghost attack on a night like this.  He wondered if the other ghosts, the real ghosts, had similar troubles, if the phenomenon was more universal than he assumed, but he could never bring himself to ask.  Could never admit to that additional vulnerability.

It was lonely.  But there was also something soothing about moving wraithlike through the dark.  There was a sort of enchantment to it, to the dark of night and the quiet under the stars.

It was a private sort of unreality.  An in-between populated only by himself. 

Except, it wasn’t, really.  Amity Park wasn’t a big city, but there were still people out at all hours.  He avoided them, usually.  He didn’t want trouble.  Didn’t want to be seen. 

(He had to admit that he took a certain amount of shame in his condition, even if he didn’t understand what it was, exactly.  Even if most of his concern was practical.)

But…

Obsessions were a myth.  Ghosts might have reasons to stay rather than move on, a strong personality was a must, and people tended to look for purpose in their existence regardless of circumstances, but there wasn’t any compulsion to do things beyond what they had in life. 

At least, that was the case for Danny and the ghosts who would have such a personal conversation for him.  Maybe it was different for other people. 

Point was, Danny didn’t need to do what he did.  He didn’t need to fight ghosts at all hours.  He hadn’t really wanted to be a hero, beyond the fantasies that everyone probably had.  It was just… he could.  He could, and other people couldn’t.  Refusing to help under those circumstances just seemed wrong. 

Point was, by that logic, he shouldn’t have to intervene in something other people could help with when he was relatively weakened. 

The way things were in theory wasn’t always borne out by the way they worked in practice. 

Danny wasn’t just going to ignore a cry for help, even if there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

He drifted towards where he’d heard it, clipping through trees, corners of buildings, and a dumpster.  Like this, intangibility was easy.  Touching things was almost impossible. 

The brick side of the building was nothing to him.  The light and warmth inside were more of a barrier.  There was shouting coming from down the hall.  Angry, harsh, but undeniably human. 

Danny was definitely trespassing.  He had no business here. 

Even so, could he call himself human if he ignored this?

He floated forward, more aware of how unnatural his movements were than he’d been outside.  Movement, for him, like this, didn’t require anything more than a decision to move.  He moved smoothly and with no other action, like a clipped picture dragged across a screen.

In the apartment hallway was a scene that no one would want to see.  A woman, cowering away from a man with bloody fists, hunched in on herself in the corner.  Neither of them looked terribly aware of their surroundings. 

Danny came closer.  He was angry, he was scared, but what could he do?  What could he do?

He reached out, swiping a hand through the man’s shoulder, trying to be solid for just a moment–

His hand passed straight through.  Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

The man shivered.  The woman looked up and gasped, her bruised eyes meeting Danny’s. 

And. 

The man looked over his shoulder. 

His eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards, tripping over the woman’s feet and reaching for a bookshelf to steady himself. 

“You,” he gasped.  “You–  My face–  How do you have my face?”

Danny, to the best of his knowledge, didn’t have anyone’s face but his own.  He had looked at himself in mirrors, even like this.  Maybe the man was on drugs.  Danny edged an inch closer, hoping to just scare the man off.

“What are you–”

The man stumbled again, and this time went down hard, hitting his head on the edge of the bookcase as he went.  He slumped the rest of the way to the floor, leaving smears and splatters of blood on the already jumbled shelves.  Danny watched with horror as the man twitched a few times and then went still. 

This wasn’t what he’d intended.  Not at all. 

“Are you an angel?”

Danny’s head snapped to look at the woman, who was staring up at him.  He opened his mouth to deny any commonality with angels of all things, but, as it always did when he was like this, his voice refused to come.  The reminder sent another twist of resentment for this… this form through him. 

The woman moved, catching his attention again.  He could see his faint radiance reflected in her eyes, much brighter than it should have been.  He slid backwards until he was half phased into the wall. 

He wanted to go.  He wanted to get out of here.  He wanted to treat this as a nightmare he’d wake up from. 

“You’re beautiful,” said the woman.  “Don’t go, I–”  She shuddered, and looked at the man.  “Please don’t go.  I don’t…  I don’t know what to do.”

He hesitated.  The reason he was here in the first place was to help, but the main problem was… very over.  From here, the woman could call the police, and it’d…  Well.  It’d probably look like either an accident or self-defense.  He hoped. 

Sam was always going on about inadequacies in the justice system. 

But he couldn’t do anything about that.  Even if he were an adult, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about that.

On the other hand…

He flew to the end of the hallway and squinted into the kitchen.  Every surface was so white the entire thing looked overexposed.  But it had a phone sitting on the counter. 

Turning back, he beckoned to the woman.  Haltingly, she stood and stumbled towards him.  Under the bruises, she looked dazed, and Danny winced.  She probably had a concussion. 

He pointed at the phone. 

“Right,” said the woman, faintly.  “Right.  I should call…”  She trailed off and swayed, blinking.  “Thank you, angel.”

Danny pressed his lips together in disapproval.  He really, really wasn’t an angel.  Categorically. 

The woman picked up the phone and fumbled over the buttons.  Finally, it started ringing. 

“Mom?” she said into the receiver.  “I need help.”

Danny sighed.  He’d have preferred her to call the police, but, well.  She’d called someone, at least.  His job was well and truly done.  He phased through the wall and back out into the night.  A few minutes later, to his relief, the first tinglings of increased solidity washed over him. 

Soon, tonight would be over.  The dawn couldn’t come fast enough.

[sphaliro]

A little behind, here's day 14 of OC-October--Molly Germaine; one of the main 5 in ESPclub. She starts off as a shy, nervous girl with the ability to telekinetically 'shield' or protect herself (as Scott notices when a falling bookshelf fails to deck them both.) After a while, this seemingly specific power develops into multiple, diverse skills including invisibility, psychic mind shielding, & manipulating telekinetic shields into floating constructs.

[kyeomunism]

The Phoenix Ymbryne ||  Millard Nullings

Pairing: Millard Nullings x Fem!Reader

Devil’s Acre Era (includes events in TDODA)

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You are a peculiar who can take the form of a Phoenix. Wights were a constant threat until an invisible boy takes you to your new home. Getting to know him made you realize your purpose and the worth of all you’ve been through.

A/n: this fic includes South-East Asian references and i wrote it in a way you’ll learn easily. so whatever your race is, step inside Y/n’s boots and enjoy this adventure fluff. 

︵‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・༺❀༻・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ︵‿︵‿︵

1900, Manila

The gust of wind rustling the forest almost silenced your pounding heart, but not quite. You transformed into a blazing bird and shoot through the bright sky, searching the brown earthen hues below. Your bird form made you an easy target, knowing that the wights after you have hunting guns; but your bird form also allowed you to scan the forest with your peculiar intuition. You could detect souls and sense their objectives. As you fly towards the outskirts of the woods, you located the two wights running away.

Suddenly, you felt another soul wandering through the thickets. A lone, pure heart, a good aura that you wouldn’t expect right after getting chased by blank-eyed monsters. Driven by curiosity, you roamed above the trees where you felt the presence. It was a floating map. You perched on a branch and watched the huge map turn, as if being held by a person. You looked from another angle at it revealed a floating suit and trousers. Carefully eyeing the subject and its pavement shoes leaving a calculated trail, there was only one word you can fathom: peculiar.

It had been over half a century since you’ve seen another peculiar, and it fascinated you how you couldn’t actually see this one. You continued watching the invisible who seem to be looking for something; a landmark? a person? a girl who can turn into a two-feet-tall fiery bird? If it was the latter, you knew you couldn’t easily trust someone, even if your intuition screamed this person’s good intentions.

You flew towards your house by the river, and judging by the angle of the floating clothes below, you knew you’ve been spotted. The moment you reached your home, you transformed back to your sixteen year-old body and slipped in a floor length skirt, a white sleeved shirt made from pineapple fabrics, and a scarf around your neck. You prepared hot chocolate in case that invisible peculiar pays a visit.

It only took a few minutes until you heard a knock on your door. Reluctantly, you opened it to reveal the same floating clothes that seemed to belong to the western world.

"Who are you?"

"Millard Nullings, at your service." A voice of a teenage boy spoke up. You moved aside to allow him enter your home, saying your name as you lead him to the drawing room. At first, you thought it was going to be painfully awkward, but it immediately changed into a pleasant, curious atmosphere when his body headed straight towards the ancient maps on your walls, as if being pulled by a magnet.

"Thank you, this place is incredibly interesting. For the longest time I thought these maps were never to be found again," Millard said as he took the hot chocolate from your hand while staring at the walls.

"These are from my old ymbryne. She was a real treasure," you said, standing beside him. "It shows hundreds of ancient loops across Asia. I wouldn't have found my current home without these maps. Oh, and Millard... may I ask how did you get here?"

"The wights after you were caught a while ago. This loop is marked empty in A Map of Days, so catching two of Caul's followers in here is intriguing. It wasn't long until I found the entrance after leapfrogging through a parallel loop nearby."

Brushing off more questions in your head, you offered him a seat and took sips of hot chocolate.

"Perplexus wasn't wrong when he marked this loop empty," you said. Millard's head most likely whipped up at the mention of the famous cartographer.

You smiled at this and continued. "When my old loop was raided, my ymbryne suggested this small loop. It was an empty peculiar menagerie. I suspect a dozen peculiar animals used to live here with all the traces I've found. But for over fifty years, I haven't seen any peculiarity in this area." You turn your head towards the window. "Past those Cacao trees is the membrane of the loop. A small provincial village with normal people, normal chickens, and a normal carabao. So seeing you here feels more surreal than it sounds," you admitted.

"What about your bird?" he asked, "that tall phoenix flying around the woods?"

A twinge of realization came over you and you sigh, reluctant to admit your peculiarity.

"That was me," you say finally.

"What! You can turn into a phoenix? You're an ymbryne?" Millard's voice was a mix of astonishment and confusion.

"How else did you think I manage to revive this loop?" You smiled.

"I just thought ymbrynes' bird forms are supposed to be inconspicuous. But you were...incredibly remarkable."

Your cheeks heated up at the comment and you divert your gaze with a soft chuckle.

"That baffled me as well, that's why I only transform in important situations. Locals believed me to be a magical bird, thus driving many hunters' attention. My bird form is known as Adarna. Similar to a phoenix, but distinct in certain features."

"Adarna? I've never heard of that kind of bird before."

"It is a famous folklore bird in the Philippines. There are stories about it, even in the Tales of the Peculiar." You stood and picked up an old children's book on the bookshelf across the room. You handed it to Millard, which you assume, made him smile.

"This is an ancient version indeed. I annotate many of the Tales but I've never seen this before. Would you mind letting me borrow this?" You couldn't bring yourself to say no to him, so you insisted he could keep it. Stating that you didn't need a copy, having memorized it for the longest time.

After minutes of discussion, you noticed how he got so excited in the topic of maps, history and his friends. It felt like you were listening to a teacher who loved his work, and you weren't complaining as you found this adorable. You were both having good laughs with Millard's stories, until he finally said, "I trust you expect a reassurance that the wights wouldn't trouble you anymore, but we can't be certain."

Your eyebrows furrowed at this, "what are you planning?"

"To take you to Devil's Acre."

You were surprised and slightly taken aback. He must've seen the faraway look on your face so he continues, "Y/n, you don't have to go now. I can just leave you a detailed map to help you reach the panloopticon anytime."

You paced around the drawing room. "So you're letting me go there alone?"

“If that's what you like, yes. I don't want to rush you into leaving your home, but I’ll feel much better if you let me take you there myself." His British drawl made your throat dry, you could only nod.

"I'll take my time to think about it, but as soon as the wights come near this area, I'll head to your loop for safety." You decided it's only smart to stay home until real danger emerge, despite how much you'd like to go with Millard. "Why don't you stay here for a while?"

"That can be a problem. You see, my ymbryne left me with strict rules..."

"You weren't supposed to be here, aren't you?"

You both just laughed at this.

A while later, a loud commotion started in the other side of the loop membrane. Villagers were screaming and animals were flocking away.

"Was that a regular noise within your loop?"

"For fifty years of living this exact same day over and over again, I can assure you that was most unnatural." You got up and pocketed an old but sharp dagger as Millard packed the maps and the book you gave him.

"Those are certainly Wights looking for their other comrades. We ought to flee this place now," he said.

You both slipped through the backdoor towards the river, careful not to trip into the mud. When you reach the bamboo raft, he held your hand and made sure you wouldn't lose balance. This gesture, however, made you lose your composure instead.

"You seem nervous, is it the raft? Should I let you cross the river first?"

"No, no, it's safe," you said as you both stood on the either side of the raft, trying not to slip as you crossed the river holding tall pieces of bamboo to keep yourselves steady. "I guess I just feel sad that I'm leaving home for good," you say. It was true, but you couldn't bring yourself to admit that he made you flustered.

"I understand that this loop may close permanently as you leave," he said, "but in the Devil's Acre, you may train with other ymbrynes ang get the chance to create new loops, have wards of your own—"

"Train with other ymbrynes?" You exclaimed as the raft reached the other side of the river.

"Yes, they're rather lovely. Miss Avocet and all the other ymbrynes would love to guide you. I also believe my friends will celebrate your company. Horace will cook feast, Olive and Claire will surely entertain you, oh," he said, clearly excited, "the celebration will never be enough!"

"Are you kidding me?" You laughed soundlessly as you headed towards the forest. "Your presence alone is more than enough."

He did not reply anything for a moment and you bit your lip. Millard lead the way to another loop that was connected to the panloopticon. It was a silent but surprisingly comfortable walk. He told you to watch your steps in some parts of the forest and you give every useful information you had about your homeland.

"There it is, come here, y/n." He spotted the portal door propped amongst the old trenches of the place that was once bloodstained by war.

Shivers crawled down your spine as you paced forward. Millard noticed your uneasy expression and ran circles on your knuckles. "You can tell me if you don't want to come," he whispered gently, "we'll figure out another way if you're ever uncomfortable."

"Thank you, but I really want to go with you. I want to meet your family and read your books." A smile painted its way on your face just thinking about it.

Without another question, he lead you through the door while gripping your hand. You held your breath and let him guide your steps. His fingers traced your forehead and you opened your eyes.

═ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ═

1886, London

"Where are we?" You stare at the plain, unfamiliar bedroom infront of you.

"The third floor of panloopticon," Millard said with a relieved sigh. "We just crossed half the world in a matter of seconds, I trust the kitchen will have something to ease our loop-lag."

Without even thinking about it, you pulled him in a hug. He caught his breath and wrapped his arms around you as you feel tears streaming down your face. You missed your country but don't regret being with this boy at all. "Thank you," you managed to whisper.

It had been less than a week since you first arrived. Millard's friends were the kindest people you have ever met. The first time you saw Miss Peregrine, she was furious at Millard for running off without permission, but her mood changed when she met you and realized you were an ymbryne too. You were immediately recruited in Miss Avocet's academy and made friends with many other people in the Acre. You get along very well with Miss Wren who was interested in your peculiarity and the fact that you lived in a menagerie loop in Asia.

Desolations came and you stayed in the Ditch House with Millard reading books for you. While it was raining blood, bones and ashes outside, you were having the time of your life with your new family.

You stayed in the Academy while the rest of Miss Peregrine's wards take on their adventure to France, giving all your best wishes for Millard.

You fought in the battle of the Devil's Acre and tended to the injured with the other ymbrynes-in-training. When you heard the news that Caul was defeated, you were elated and incredibly happy.

You were one of the ninety-five peculiars who broke loop-bound in Jacob's house. You could finally go anywhere you like without the fear of aging forward rapidly, and Millard promised many trips with you, you could only shut him up with a peck on the cheek.

═ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ═

1940, Cairnholm

So many good things happened to you that week, but nothing could beat the joy you felt when you found out that the ymbrynes-in-training are to live with Miss Cuckoo, and Miss Peregrine and her wards in Cairnholm.

You stare at the dog roses in Fiona's garden, you were filled with mixed emotions and wanted a quiet time. All of them are celebrating inside the house; all except Millard, who was wearing a velvet smoking jacket for the occasion.

"It's beautiful here," you said while watching his clothes head your way, "you must be happy that you're home."

"You are my home," he said sincerely, now standing in front of you.

You couldn't grab any witty reply, in fact, you couldn't find any words at all. You knew you were blushing ferociously by now.    

"Mind if I talk to you about something that's been bothering me for a while?" He broke the silence and you nod at him.

"With everything we went through these past weeks, I found myself hoping to stay alive."

You stifled a laugh. "Isn't that a good thing? Wishing you'd survive?"

"That's the point, I wanted to stay alive, not just because we ought to take surviving as a priority, but because I can't get you out of my mind."

Your face went blank. "What do you mean, Millard?"

"I wish it was a choice, but it wasn't. I fell in love with you, Y/n. I'd love you for as long as time."

"And we have time," you reassured him, "I love you too," and with that, he kissed you.

Both smiling into the kiss, you leaned against each other, swaying in the breeze of the garden and basking in each other's presence forevermore.