Deep in the Crystalspine Reaches lies the lair of the Aeternum, twisting tunnels carved out of the amethyst rock of Arcane lands. At the heart lies a cavern with a grandiose pool of water, gleaming crystals littering its shore. Among the crystalline waters slumber countless gold coins, gems, and other precious metals the clan has hoarded, a giant crystal embedded in the center of the lakel. And from atop this crystal is where the Lord of the Aeternum rules his clan, his onyx scales starkly contrasting with the dancing colors of his surroundings.
Mulling over lore stuff, wanted to draw where my clan leader spends all of his time. Quick sketch thing.
And to celebrate I made a list of fics I’ve liked a lot this year. I’ve been reading a lot less than I did last year (for uni reasons) so this list is less elaborate than my other lists and I might have missed some gems, but I can’t change that. Also my preference for the Tokyo boys is getting more and more obvious… I’m looking forward to other rec lists today and if anyone wants to add their stuff to my list you’re very welcome!
A collection of stories the morals
of which all amount to: if something can go wrong, it will. Also, if
something can go right, it also will.
Alternatively, that one college AU where everyone fucks all the shit up.
I’m starting off with a series that everyone should have heard of by now. And if you haven’t, please, for the love of god, go check it out. I’ve recced it before and it has only gotten better since then. It isn’t only the single most funny thing I’ve read, but also heartbreaking and mindblowing and breathtaking in it’s shown skill. Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK MAN.
“Studies have shown that scented and coloured toilet paper increases the risk of rectal inflammation.”
It all started with room number 13.
This author caught me outta nowhere. I remember following them because of a cute fanart I found in the kuroyaku tag and them being around my dash ever since, but then, months later, they hit me with this HAMMER of a bokuroo fic and I was lost, no shore in sight all of a sudden. Andrei, if there’s a way to get my hands on De Novo (and De Facto) somehow, that would be rad, I remember I still owe you a proper comment. Anyways, this fic here is fucking hysteric. It’s got this amazingly different style that makes it super memorable and at the same time absolutely hilarious and I just… can’t recommend it enough.
downtempo by @circusfairy (Sawamura Daichi/Terushima Yuuji, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi) T
He has two boyfriends, Yuuji reminds himself. A cute one. And a fucking hot one.
Honestly I wasn’t 100% sure about the logistics of this fic at first but DAMN, did I get my mind blown. This is gorgeously written and so fucking well characterised. Not to mention that they actually made it work super realistically!
A tiny kiss was pressed to the side of his head and Shouyou snickered. “You’re a sap,” he said, amused, but his heart was trembling at the gentleness of the gesture. “Of course,” Kuroo replied as if it was the most obvious of things. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Shouyou
chuckled, pulling back to look at him. Kuroo had a small smile on his
face, just a quirk of his lips, really, but it made Shouyou melt, like
it always did. Maybe he was the real sap in this relationship…
Yeah, this fic was a gift for me and DAMN was it ever up my alley. It is seiously so sweet without being simple fluff and there’s so much love there, portrayed in the characters and evident in the author and it makes me melt every time I reread it.
Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top
floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and
terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls
into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple
message on the outside of the glass. AU.
This author was the first I recognized for the amazing wording in my fandom stint so far. It is absolutely exceptional, ingenious and beautiful. And this fic makes my heart race with the feelings. HAHHH
There’s a trampoline in the middle of the courtyard across from Kuroo’s first class.
Is my thing for college AUs showing yet? I feel incredibly lucky that there’s so many amazing ones out there, and this is one of them. Close to reality and subtle in its emotions, this is just goergeous writing that leaves me in awe.
Flame by grossly (Ennoshita Chikara/Kozume Kenma) G
“What are you doing, Kozume-san?” Ennoshita asks.
starts a little, as if he hadn’t realised Ennoshita had been there all
along. Bright, crystalline gold flits up, then back down to the ground,
like a hummingbird.
If anything can catch the subtleties in this ship, it is this fic. Hot damn, that word choice!
Sometimes the people we love can’t see themselves clearly. They’re blinded by the lies their minds tell them.
So we help them them to see; through our love and our actions, we show them how important and appreciated they are.
Kenma tries his best to do this for Kuro.
I spent entirely too much time on deciding which of Sy’s fics I was gonna link if you consider the fact that I’m just going to say that you have to read ALL of her fics anyways. They are a gift to the fandom and especially to Kuroken shippers all around. Sy has an amazing penchant for profound romance and a love for the characters that is probably only surpassed by her love for the people around her. Just look at how many fics are dedicated to someone. It makes you stop and stare in awe.
And you feel dumb, downright idiotic that it takes you all this time to
realize it as Kuroo laughs and grins, eyes alight when he nudges your
hand with his under the table, that the feelings you harbor for your
friend isn’t just platonic.
Sometimes there are stories like this one, that unroll like a scroll of parchment or a satiny gift ribbon and they take you with them on a journey that touches your heart, slings around it and leaves it beating slow and strong and truly moved.
"I want so badly to believe that “there is truth,
that love is real”
and I want life in every word to the extent
that it’s absurd"
Oh dear. Hazel’s love for this ship is amazing and that shows in her fic. This is characterization from heaven, let me tell you. I’m so so impressed by her way of characterising these boys in a completely new context and incorporating this into her writing!
Travelling by lamp isn’t comfortable, but it’s cheap. Time passes
strangely, and Koutarou doesn’t know how many hours he’s been in here,
smaller and bigger than he’s supposed to be all at the same time. It’s
dark, and Koutarou passes the time wallowing, a skill he’s mastered over
the last half a century.
Koutarou is a djinn on a mission, but his arrival in Japan provides more of a reprieve than he expected.
There is a certain magic in all of Bishop’s writing that’s quite calm and cozy and it makes me feel very warm inside. Also it has the spectacular ability to pull you into the storyline and identify with the character’s emotions. Or if you can’t identify then at least feel with them as much as possible. I forgot what that was called but it’s an enchanting experience!
On a rainy night, Tsukishima is visited by an old friend he’s never known.
This fic belongs to a whole series of magical happenings and they are all written in this absolutely breathtaking manner that pulls you in and thoroughly creeps you out. Seldomly did I see such well-made atmosphere.
Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in
his college career. He’d hoped that might include taking down his
arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team
hosts an offensively familiar face, he can’t help but think that the
universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse
than playing on the same team as Ushijima?
Would you look at that?! I have the opportunity to recommend two of my favourite authors in one swoop, isn’t that convenient? I’m not even sure how necessary it is, but hey, why not spell it out again? Apart from their incredibly skillful writing that’s so well and neatly characterised and heartwarming and good for my soul, it’s also just genuinely intelligent. Ah, maybe one day I’ll be as smart and benevolent, who knows?
The first time he saw the sky was the night Kuroo dragged him out of the City.
Staggering along with Kuroo’s arm around his waist, his brain still
too fuzzy to quite comprehend what was going on, he had looked up. He
saw tiny, innumerable pinpricks of light, shining clear and beautiful,
free from the cover of the Dome.
“What are those?” he said. His voice sounded like rust, the slow
grinding of a machine that’s never been used screeching into utility
“The stars,” Kuroo had answered.
I guess I should note that this fic… made me angry at first, I remember literally saying ‘What The Fuck’ out loud to my empty bedroom. But in the end I came to the conclusion that this is just a fantastically written fic, with great worldbuilding that pulls you in and makes you feel so much with the protag. I love the journey it took me on completely because sometimes I need a story like this. Just don’t forget that the violence and dystopia tags are no joke!
They share a smile within the bubble of the cockpit, its surface streaked with passing lights. Another night of routine.
This ship… oh man. I did not know I shipped this before that. Well. Now I do. The world this takes place in seems so incredibly homely and yet.. it’s sci-fi! Making it work like that takes a lot of skill and I’m thoroughly impressed.
When he develops the film pictures, they come out different from the digital ones, and there they are again -
Those flecks of brightness, glimmering faintly against that 3 AM sky.
Lark likes trains. And journeys. And finding yourself along the way. At least that’s the impression I got and honestly, that’s what I like as well. The way the story unfolds, always so smart and immersive and atmospheric, I can only recommend reading all of Lark’s fics because they are something very special.
When Karasuno are approached to put on a fundraiser, one player steps up
to the task. As Director, Ennoshita Chikara decides he’ll put on a
pantomime. With an enthusiastic cast, he knows it could be a great
success. But who will he get to play the Dame?
Someone tell me if it was a good idea to link Greasepaint of all of Carole’s fic, because I don’t know. I adore this fic with all my heart. It’s witty and funny and so incredibly well plotted and Carole’s voice sounds amazing, but honestly… that applies to all of her fics. She’s one of the most prolific writers and most amazing persons I know and I’m so glad that she’s still around in the fandom.
“He thought of progress, of going further, over a
silent breakfast with Kazu and Hisashi. This is, technically, already a
greater distance than he’s ever been. But as Chikara took the final bite
of his tuna onigiri and waits now as one face in a milling crowd, he
knows he wants more.”
Fresh from a bout with disappointment
and self doubt, university second year violinist Ennoshita Chikara is
thrust into the position of Concertmaster in the esteemed Shirobane
Orchestra. Through music, he learns the significance of his new title
and the importance of believing in himself - and meets an oboist who
redefines and confirms what he knows.
This fic. Man. Blew my fucking mind. I still don’t even know what to say, I don’t think I ever commented on it. My brain still fries when I try to put it into words. Just do it. Read Winny’s writing. You won’t regret it.
In which touches of luck, coincidence, and an omnipresent, inaudibly ringing bell help some things come full circle in the end.
(And sometimes, a full circle is not an end at all.)
I wish I was able to write a fic this carefully and with that much dedication. It’s obvious how careful the author chose every word and that makes it such a musical experience, like a song or a beautiful melody.
“Hey, what’s the thickest book you have around here?”
which Koutarou is pulled into an ongoing series of bets between Oikawa
and Iwaizumi, Oikawa will be close to death’s door if he doesn’t sleep
sometime soon and Koutarou tries his best to fill Oikawa’s seemingly
Watching this fic unfold was an amazing thing. I absolutely adore Nikki’s writing for a thousand reasons, but most of all because I always have to smile. Either that or I get my heart ripped out, but we’ve already seen in this list that I’m not averse to that ^^
In which Oikawa Tooru casually controls the weather systems in Miyagi and Iwaizumi doesn’t blink an eye.
God fucking dammit, Justine’s Iwaois are divine. There is no way around it. That’s just how it is. They are magical and warm and her charactirsations have influenced mine so much that I can’t possibly pull them apart anymore. If you want to give yourself a treat then read one of Justine’s fics. Or all of them. But be prepared, it could take a while.
a sunset, a summer, a shiver that simmers into a smile -
or, medical student Kuroo Tetsurou falls in love with neighbourhood
busker Bokuto Koutarou but first impressions are rose gold and happiness
comes at a price.
I don’t usually care much about fic titles (maybe because I’m so careless with them myself) but this one… makes me shiver whenever I see it or think of it. And well, that’s definitely due to the story itself. I don’t even want to say anything else about it because I feel so overwhelmed from trying to put it into words. Reading Eliza’s fics (and especially this one) is like taking all my ship feels—and there are a lot, Bokuroo is my OTP—and compressing them into a small heavy ball in my stomach. Incredible.
Being eighteen is like being given a year to make a mess of your life,
put it back together, and come out the other end a better person. Easier
said than done.
I have this one addition that I put last because this blog is mostly a HQ blog and this fic is very much NOT, but fuck me if I’d let this out. The way Isy leads you through a story is incredible. Of characters that are barely characterised in canon and that grow on you because she wants to. DAMN.
Imagine Jamie and Claire raising Brianna and the time comes to discipline her for the first time. Clash of two cultures.
Her father taught her compassion, and her mother taught her courage.
Her mother taught her ruthlessness, and her father taught her mercy.
Her father taught her to mend, and her mother taught her to cut.
She looked like her father with her height and her red hair. She sounded like him, his Scottish burr rather than her mother’s clipped vowels. She looked at the world through clear blue eyes, rather than crystalline gold, and perhaps that was why she said it.
“Claire,” her father said in the next room, his voice low, but still carrying through to where Brianna sat awaiting their decision. She so rarely heard her father use her mother’s first name that it startled her, and she knew that he was very serious. “She has done wrong and she must pay the consequence.”
“You’ll not raise a hand to your daughter, James Fraser,” her mother hissed. “You swore to me-”
“I swore that I’d never raise a hand to you, Claire,” he said, warningly. “And dinna think I’ve never regretted it in all these years.”
“She is my flesh, and what you do to her you do to me,” Claire said, and Briana could hear the choked pain in her mother’s voice.
“Sassenach,” Jamie said, his voice changing from warning to soothing in a moment, “it’s the way things are done, a nighean donn. Shall we keep her from going to school lest the schoolmaster tawse her palm?”
“The schoolmaster is not you, Jamie. There’s a difference.”
“Aye, there is, for when discipline comes from me she knows that it is not because I dislike her, nor because it gives me any pleasure, which it might for a schoolmaster, but because it must be done. It’s justice, mo cridh, not malice.”
“Please don’t, Jamie.”
“Claire…” He was helpless against her mother’s pleading, and Brianna thought, later, that it was perhaps this that made her speak. Her father could not hurt her mother, and her mother could not sway her father, and so it was for Brianna to say instead.
“Mama, I think that Daddy should tawse me for what I’ve done,” she said, in a clear voice. “I think it would be best to get it over with quickly.”
Brianna would always believe that her father was gentler on her than her crime deserved on that day as well, because she had saved the both of them.
Prompt for your consideration: It is discovered that Roland has magic
I think you may have been looking for something with a bit more, well, gravitas? But instead you got this – enjoy!
Regina’s keys seem to disappear before she wants to drive to the
pharmacy she blames whatever powers control this realm now that she’s no
longer in the business of curses. 30+ years of leaving them by the bowl
on the table in the entryway and it’s a typically inconvenient now,
with a clingy Roland running a light fever and runny nose, that they
can’t be found. The smallest Merry Man follows her from room to room
like a fractious duckling, insisting he doesn’t need medicine as she
stops him wiping his nose on his sleeve. He’d feel better if she came
and read him a story he informs her while she’s at eye level, little
hand fisting territorially into her clothes. They’re interrupted by a
shout of discovery from Robin (having unearthed an overlooked bottle
from a guest bathroom) and Regina tries to sooth their son’s distemper
by swinging his pyjama’d form up into her arms and promising she will,
but after he takes his medicine.
Robin takes his boy’s
obvious preference for her in this moment with good form (“Like father,
like son” he tells her, with a quick kiss on the cheek and a promise to
see Henry to Granny’s on the way to check on the camp)
four stories before Roland’s eyes start to droop, lulled by the drugs in
his system, the warm swaddle of blankets, Mr. Bird; his favourite
stuffed toy, and Regina’s arms. She tries to gently manoeuvre herself
from her position half under him, but he stirs, wrapping his arms
vine-like around her waist. He peers up blearily, blinking against the
sleep and says ‘Stay with me”. Regina is close enough to see a
crystalline gold fire through his eyes at the command before he tumbles
back into sleep, leaving her pinned to the mattress, magic weighting her
limbs in place. Her gasp never makes it past her throat, nor her
attempt to say his name; no sound dares disturb the spell he’s placed on
them, determined to lay in peace with his stepmother. She could force
her own magic out to shatter the hold, but there would be no telling
what damage it would do to the miniature magician in bed with her.
What he lacks in practice he makes up for in ability, she’s well and truly stuck.
three long hours frozen in position before the sound of the front door
heralds Robin’s arrival and causes Roland to rouse, the invisible vice
easing with sudden relief. Roland appears ignorant to events, none the
wiser of his actions while half asleep. He sits up and calls for his
daddy and Regina pulls herself up, nearly stumbling into Robin at the
door as she battles pins and needles.
“We need to talk” she tells him urgently, and Robin nods, confused as she lurches past him in the opposite direction.
“In a minute, I’ve needed the bathroom for the last hour!”
minutes later, Roland safely ensconced on the couch with a DVD and a
newly returned Henry, Regina pulls Robin into their room and tell him
the tale. She isn’t amused when the first thing he does, despite the
gravity of the situation, is laugh at the recounting of her predicament.
He apologizes with something that would almost have reached sincerity
if it hadn’t been for the smirk still lingering.
Unmollified, she gives him a smirk of her own.”I don’t know what you’re so amused about; magic is usually hereditary”
sight of him missing the corner of the bed he’d been aiming to sit on
entirely, to land in an undignified heap on the floor does much to
improve her day.
Dark curls danced gently in the wind, cascading down his back and over his shoulders in gentle waves.
There seemed to be a melancholy sort of atmosphere around the marquis, the only occasional sound being that of his earrings chiming softly in the breeze and the clip-clip of the scissors as he arranged a collection of forget-me-nots in glass jars. There was an array of these all around the room- of flowers that did not grow in the winter- all arranged in glass jars.
Hearing footsteps, the marquis turned his attention to the open doorway and smiled at the young woman gently.
“My, it looks like we have a lost little lamb… Are you alright, my Lady?” He asked, his mismatched eyes of crystalline blue and sulphuric gold focusing on her through dark lashes.