Giveaway Contest: We’ve Partnered With Alma Books To Give Away Five of Their Beautiful Alma Classics

Giveaway Contest: We’re giving away ten vintage paperback classics by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Walt Whitman, George Orwell, and others. Won’t these look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will randomly choose a winner on April 22, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck!

“Some days the flowers will wither but today’s not the day.”

— Bangtan | Not Today

you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog

fanfiction is so wild cause im like…..ugh im not in the mood to read a book…..i’ll just read an 82k word fic instead……

2016’s Top Books

How many lists can Dan and Phil appear on? Here’s another.

1. The Harry Potter series     by J. K. Rowling 2. Percy Jackson & the Olympians     by Rick Riordan 3. The Raven Cycle series +1     by Maggie Stiefvater

4. The Mortal Instruments series     by Cassandra Clare 5. The Captive Prince Triology     by C. S. Pacat 6. A Song of Ice and Fire Series −3     by George R. R. Martin 7. A Court of Mist and Fury    by Sarah J. Maas 8. The Foxhole Court    by Nora Sakavic 9. The Amazing Book is Not on Fire −3    by Dan Howell and Phil Lester 10. Pride and Prejudice −1     by Jane Austen 11. The Throne of Glass series −1     by Sarah J Maas 12. The Trials of Apollo series     by Rick Riordan 13. Carry On     by Rainbow Rowell 14. The Warriors series +2     by Author Collective 15. Six of Crows     by Leigh Bardugo 16. The Infernal Devices series −8     by Cassandra Clare 17. The Lunar Chronicles series     by Marissa Meyer 18. Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard     by Rick Riordan 19. Lady Midnight      by Cassandra Clare

20. Wreck This Journal    by Keri Smith

The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last year.

Z.W. Gu [Artstation]

I’m looking forward to the day where I can be that cliche girl that studies and gets shit done in a coffee shop or library, with my head always in a book and daydreams filling my head. Just imagine. A cup of coffee to the left, books stacked high beside you, knowing you’ve accomplished so many things, and that feeling that you’re finally getting somewhere. And you’re okay for once in your life. You’re okay.

Warmth

So, this was a random piece I wrote a long time ago, in the pretty severe lack of actual friendly Russia.

Summary: Sometimes, you can find friends in the strangest of people.

It was a rare occasion indeed that the anthropomorphic personification of Russia found time to leave the wastelands of wintertime Siberia in favour of the warm tropics. His favourite haunt was a small group of islands off the north coast of Madagascar, Seychelles (though this may have been as much because it annoyed England and France, overprotective bastards that they were, as the warm sun).

He could relax here, without America’s obnoxious suspicion, or his little sister’s disturbing obsession for him. Just himself, the sun and warm sand, and of course, his beloved Magical Metal Pipe of Pain (it never hurt to be too cautious).

This was how Michelle, also called Seychelles, erstwhile adopted maybe-daughter of France and/or England, found him – coat, scarf and even trousers discarded in favour of swim trunks (complete with a dubious palm tree print) and pale skin and hair gleaming like silver in the sunlight.

Ficlet: Untitled

So apparently my brain’s solution to ‘I have two sets of fic I should be working on and I don’t know which one to work on first,’ is 'start a new universe in my head.’ So. Er. Here, have a (fantasy, though that’s not explicitly delved into in this) AU, with F!France/England, F!France<-F!Canada->England. F!Canada is Madeline, and F!France is Marianne. I just randomly snagged vaguely relevant placenames out of history. …This would be a whole lot less angsty if it wasn’t from Madeline’s point of view. ;;;

It takes three weeks after her arrival from Gallia for The Lady Madeline Williams, the sole child and only remaining family of the Duke of Vesperia, Lord Matthew Williams, to realise she is totally, hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Wessex, His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur.

It is not lust – or, at the very least, not lust alone; Arthur is handsome, Madeline knows none will honestly deny that, but it is in an almost peculiar way. He has his family’s fairness and green eyes – and with them he had inherited a dark set of formidable eyebrows, half-hidden under a forever-mussed fringe, and a tendency to burn rather than tan under the summer sun. He is slim – but set next to other men it seems almost to the point of skinny – and though he is a mage, and people whisper he is fae-touched, his hands are not as lily-soft as the old tales say they should be. No, Arthur’s hands are calloused from both sword and bow, the man apparently being more skilled with the latter, though Madeline has not seen the prince display his talents for either. The flex of his thighs and arse is beautifully distracting when he is upon a horse – but he flares a violent red when he notices himself being watched, suddenly self-conscious, sharp-tongued and curling up into defensiveness.

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Ficlet: Still Untitled, Sorry

Follows on from this one. Still AU, still pretty aimless, more fruk than maple tea because this one’s from Arthur’s POV and Arthur likes to think rude things about his fiancée and needs smacking with a cluebat before he realises people actually might like him.

Marianne is sick. It’s naught but a summer cold, for all the wretched woman will carry on like all her tomorrows are meant for the next life, a grand excuse for the princess to lie in state in her chambers and have seemingly all of Wessex call upon her there to offer her their respects.

Arthur snarls at what looks like half his Court outside Marianne’s rooms when he goes to do his duty one morning and inquire after the health of his beloved bride-to-be – and they scatter, hastily parting like the waves to let the prince through to Marianne’s door. They don’t leave though, not until Arthur rather pointedly puts his hands on his hips and stares the lot of them down, and even then they depart grudgingly, edging off into the shadows with sulky reluctance.

Whilst politically advantageous, Marianne’s obvious popularity at Court is beginning to grate on Arthur’s nerves. Just a little bit.

A very, very little bit.

God damn the woman.

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