enamuko asked: Hello! I like urban fantasy books along the lines of Simon R Green's "Nightside" series, Rob Thurman's "Cal Leandros" books, and Holly Black's "A Modern Faerie Tale" series. Any recommendations in that genre?
I think I can help you with that! Urban Fantasy is one of those genres where I am probably more familiar with the YA books in it than Adults but here are some of my picks for these:
1. Daughter of Smoke & Bone by Laini Taylor
2. The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black
3. Unspoken by Sarah Rees Brennan
4. American Gods by Neil Gaiman
5. Etiquette & Espionage by Gail Carriger
6. Wings by Aprilynne Pike - less on the urban part, more on the fairies
Thanks for the question! Hope you have a lovely week!
He does not care for cold weather. At all. He is too thin, it feels like he’s being stabbed every time he’s hit with chill wind or snow. He can force through it without shivering (he’d have to with that costume jesus) if he needs to, though.
And rain too, he doesn’t care for the feeling of his hair being plastered against his neck.
Edward never really went out when he was able to, before being Riddler and recognizable by the general public. He finds himself missing being able to go and just walk and enjoy the sun in the summer, sometimes.
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(Leave a sentence thing) Like so many important things in his life, it started with the Outsider.
Like so many important things in his life, it started with the Outsider.
It’s fairly inconspicuous at first, and Daud will give him that: the Outsider is very, very good at leaving things laying out in plain sight, hidden only by the un-truths in his words. More the fool would he be to not see them after so many years—and yet.
"He is perceptive," the Outsider says around a placid smile. Daud’s hand clutches a whalebone trinket, and he pauses. "Your second has been watching for the clues in your footsteps ever since his feet brought him to you. Give him credit: he sees out from your shadow, and sees more than you know."
It’s hardly the most puzzling thing the Outsider has ever said to him, but it’s not about him. He tucks the charm into his pocket.
When he opens his eyes, Thomas is waiting patiently at his side.
—
"You forget the breadth of mourning, Daud."
This time he’s taken aback, and it must show on his face. The Outsider frowns at him like a slow child. “One of your closest betrayed your trust, but it wasn’t just you she betrayed.”
This, he understands clearly. “She didn’t,” he says too soon, thinking of Delilah and an entire mansion of painted faces.
The Outsider tilts his head, almost—maybe—conceding it. He eyes Daud curiously.
"Billie Lurk has gone across the sea and left a flock at home. For all they would know, you have gone across the sea with her."
—
This isn’t like him, giving—life advice, but he’s forced to take it. Daud has rebuilt a small fold and given honest work where he can; around them, Dunwall rebuilds itself, too, and the tides of power shift and sway. The Outsider is quiet for nearly an entire moon before they speak again. In the interim, his Whalers begin to walk barefaced in the streets; some of them rove far and don’t come back, but most do.
Almost all do.
Daud wakes to it in his dreams, this time. He’s growing impatient and restless and doesn’t know what in all the world to expect. The Outsider spreads his hands.
"You chased Delilah to learn the truth and now your conscience rests clear. Why, then, does it call the Void closer?"
Across the sea, he thinks, and then understands.
—
He corners Thomas not long after that. It feels like a nearly impossible task; Thomas was one of the few with whom he shared most, if not all of Delilah’s story, but had never asked for a story in return.
"I was the last person she saw," Thomas tells him, carefully impassive. (Somehow they’d all learned it in the end; they don’t need masks to hide their eyes from him. Still, something shows through.) "I was—I couldn’t believe, and—I don’t know what I was thinking, sir. I went to find her. After… after."
He seems shaken up. Daud frowns. “What happened?”
"Do you know how many of ours I hid when they came for us?” Thomas exclaims, and then stops himself. He rubs a hand over his face. “She—expected I’d follow, I think. She told me where she was going, but made me promise not to tell you unless the situation was… dire.” He looks sad.
"If I ever needed to find her?" Daud asks.
"If you ever wanted her home."
—
Clever Thomas, they’d always said, quicker to learn than most. He’d earned his way to second-in-command with skill and steadfast calm; his blade was steady, but sheathed more often than not.
He could learn anything by watching. Evidently, this was how he learned people.
These are the most neutral words Daud has heard from his mouth:
"I cared about her, and you."
Thomas holds himself very still, but his posture owns up to it. He looks to Daud without flinching. “…and you cared for her, and she for you. And I cared all the more once I realized what had happened.”
Daud can barely detect the shallow breathing that might mean his second-hand is either about to throw up or faint.
"Please tell me this isn’t news to you," Thomas implores.
"No," he says, finally. He can feel his shoulders sag with the weight of it. "Only a slight blow to the head, is all."
He bids Thomas leave, and he does.
—
He’s gone for about a day, and nobody asks. His Whalers can survive on their own.
He can feel the black-eyed bastard watching him with disappointment.
More’s the fucking pity.
—
He transverses back to his offices later. His weapons belt is thrown over a chair, and he discards the plain brown surveyor’s coat he’d been using to move around quietly. Finding Thomas is almost questionably easy.
"Come on," he says as he takes his second by the forearm and leads him back. Thomas is informally-attired; it’s late and he’s not scheduled for any shifts until the next morning, but the presence of his boots suggests he might have had half a mind to go out scouting for his own reasons. Disappearing acts aren’t uncommon; they don’t talk about it.
He doesn’t break contact with Thomas until they’re both up the stairs to his horribly inhospitable loft, and then turns on him. “I’m going to take your coat off.”
Thomas freezes like a deer. Daud pins him with a look. “And then I’m going to take off your boots, and we’re going to lay the fuck down, Thomas. And if you want to talk more, we will. You can leave whenever you want.”
With that all out, Thomas seems to exhale a very large breath. He’s nodding, saying “okay, yes, yes.”
Daud cups the side of his neck with one hand, lets him breathe before getting to work unfastening his coat. Pliant, Thomas shrugs out of its sleeves and then lets himself be guided to sit down on the meager bed, sitting down on it gently. Daud is focused enough that he’s already knelt down, pulling off Thomas’ first boot before he looks up and notices the flush creeping up his second’s neck. He chuckles; Thomas goes undeniably red.
Okay. This is okay, then.
Soon after he’s similarly disrobed himself, and they’ve laid down. There’s not much space to be had, but Daud gives Thomas as much of it as possible, making sure he doesn’t feel crowded or pressured without feeling like Daud is making an effort not to touch him. Their legs bump against each other, and after several moments of calm breathing on Thomas’ part, he carefully loops an arm over his second’s waist. “‘right?”
Thomas settles into it immediately, stretching and closing the space between them.
"Alright. This is good."
Daud bumps his nose against Thomas’ neck. “Good. Stay here and try not to think yourself into a hole.”
Thomas lets out an unexpected chuckle. His spine has relaxed against Daud’s chest, and he mumbles something affirmative.
