There is doom to be found everywhere if doom is what you seek.

No one called Marty Walsh “Farty” but me, the only reason being that anyone who talked out of his ass as much as he did deserved a name to match.

The magic itself was not evil. It was what you did with it, how you shaped the tools given to your use.

‘She’s not sick, but there’s no life in her. I don’t know what to do.’

Removing his spectacles, as he always did when he believed that serious matters were at hand, the old man said, ‘Poor child. Reality is poisoning her blood.’

The surface of love was a feeling, but beyond this thin layer, there was a fathomless, winding maze of caverns offering many paces to see and explore.

I used to think that the Order as a society was broken, but watching you navigate it, knowing what they’ve done to you because of it, being away from it myself, showed me that it’s not broken. It’s working exactly as designed. A wheel, drenched in hate and control, churning.

Reader, I nearly fled. Cold iron holds no power over my kind, but we are quite repulsed by dull people.

It’s important, Ellie, that they feel we’re a very benevolent dictatorship. It means we can get away with more.

The final book of the Fallen Gods trilogy by Hannah Kaner.

She came to us as any apocalypse does: slowly at first, and then all at once.

It occurred to him that a spell to make one’s enemies into idiots via the power of breasts might be immensely helpful. Then again, it might not be a spell. It might have only been the breasts.

“Pain isn’t a competition,” I assure him. “There’s always enough to go around.”

And what was a home but somewhere you wouldn’t have to feel quite so alone.

ts voice was like the wind, but also like a thousand trees thinking the same thought.

A person could work and work and work, and still never “earn” their dues. Sometimes success meant determination… and sometimes, it was just luck.

Perhaps being too powerful, too unopposed, is a curse in and of itself, leading to boredom and dissipation, and the invention of imaginary enemies whose powers to torment were less limited than those of flesh and blood.

Monsters and flowers aren’t much different. Sometimes they are hard to tell apart—but a good florist knows what to look for.

There are countless things she would rather be doing. On a night like this, when the blue moon is full and bursting with light like summer fruit, she wants nothing more than to bathe in the moon water that now floods the riverbanks. She wants to sing poorly with no judgment, wearing nothing but the night sky.