#next: short story collections and anthologies!!
Text
Briar's Favorite First Time Reads of 2023!
I read sixty or so books (start to finish) for the first time this year, which is pretty average for me. I liked most of them pretty well, since if I dislike a book I usually won't finish it. But there were some stand outs, which I'm going to list here.
First up: NOVELS!
Pseudotooth, by Verity Holloway (2017) is the first portal fantasy coming of age novel I've read in a long, long time that I found genuinely charming. It has a very dark Gothic edge to it, with shades of Gormenghast and Edward Gorey making for a uniquely unsettling and bleak fantasy world. The novel also deals frankly and seriously with themes of ableism, eugenics, medical abuse, xenophobia, socio-economic class, rape/sexual abuse, and the psychic fallout of rape/sexual abuse. But it's got a lot of whimsical absurdist humor to it, too, and a deep humanist compassion for its characters. The three young adults at the center of the story are all quite likeable, and though they are involved in a kind of love triangle, I found the particulars of it refreshingly queer, strange, and not the primary focus of the story.
The Marigold, by Andrew F. Sullivan (2023) is a pitch-dark, stone cold bummer that is also frequently hilarious and emotionally moving in tender ways that took me by surprise. In this dystopian satire, a bunch of down-and-out relatable characters and one horrible rich guy struggle to survive as near-future Toronto is engulfed by "the Wet"-- a sapient mold-based hive mind accidentally created by the depravity and greed of big business. The residents of the titular condominium/apartment complex feature in short vignettes that demonstrate the despair and alienation people suffer under late stage capitalism, and the way the Wet calls to these people, lures them in, hunts them.
The Open Curtain, by Brian Evenson (2006) is a harrowing nightmare about madness, violence, possession, Mormonism, and the destabilization of one's known reality (well, see also "madness"). It's a type of story that could easily feel shlocky and exploitative of people with certain mental disorders, or just predictable (there are some plot twists you'll guess very quickly if you've ever like...read books or seen movies before...), but Evenson's unornamented yet masterful prose, his meticulous attention to detail, and his non-condescending empathy for both victims of violence and people struggling with delusions, violent impulses, etc. make it rise above those potential problems. At least in my opinion! This one's very disturbing, will definitely leave you feeling like shit.
Hummingbird Salamander, by Jeff VanderMeer (2021) is very emotionally moving and a suspenseful, well-plotted eco-noir page turner! Also a bummer, but leaves one feeling awe and hope and determination as well as mourning the devastating loss of life that climate change has wrought. The protagonist is great, a truly unusual and unlikely detective. I loved her voice-- like any good noir hero, she can throw off a legitimately funny sarcastic quip with the best of them, but she's also prone to astute social observations and flights of breathtaking lyricism.
How to Get Over the End Of the World, by Hal Schrieve (2023) is a TRAGICALLY under-promoted and underrated punk rock magical realist YA masterpiece about trans high schoolers, and their dysfunctional adult mentors, putting on a rock opera to save their community center. This one, unlike most of what I read, is NOT EVEN KIND OF A BUMMER. It's delightful and hilarious from start to finish, though it's definitely not saccharine-sweet or afraid of conflict. In fact, it deals quite bluntly and refreshingly with topics ranging from the relationship one character has with his violent, abusive father, to sexual relationships between teenagers, to the ever-looming awareness of climate change. Every major character is trans! Every single one!! This is kind of a spoiler, but, like, not really lol
Sudden Glory, by Hal Johnson (2023) just goes to show that guys named Hal can really write comic novels. This book has perhaps the highest joke-to-paragraph ratio of anything I’ve ever read, and also probably the most varied types of joke: a person whose sense of humor runs to preposterous situation comedy, slapstick, and lowbrow sexual humor will find a lot to like here, and so will someone whose sense of humor runs to moderately esoteric literary/historical references, social satire, five-layer wordplay, and Wildean bon mots. Since it’s set in the New York City of 2003, there’s even room for a few 9/11 jokes, which could not have appeared without controversy in a book actually published in 2003. This slightly "politically incorrect" edge comes off as good-natured and in keeping with Johnson's commitment to absurdism-- there's never a "laughing at" vibe, more one of "laughing with" human folly, futility, pretensions, etc. At base, this is a story about a person who feels he can't tell the truth or be himself for fear of social rejection, and all the trouble that gets him into.
Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke (2020) is fucking gorgeous, probably one of my favorite books of all time now, this hole was made for me, etc. I can't reasonably expect that most others will have as intense a response to it as I did-- I felt it perfectly conveyed some very important and difficult to articulate things about, like, my personal experience of consciousness, and my experience as a person with certain types of neurological/cognitive/developmental disability navigating the world, through a kind of fabulist prism. But it got great reviews, so, you know, give it a shot! I think it's better not to know anything about it going in, but let me just say, if you're into weird, massive labyrinthine buildings, this hole might also have been made for you.
Devil House, by John Darnielle (2022) is exactly the novel you'd expect "the Mountain Goats guy" to write, in all the best possible ways. It's a story that elevates the inner lives of neurodivergent outsider teens to the mythic heights they deserve. It's a story that brutally critiques the true crime industry. It's a story about the problems of defining people exclusively by their victimhood, or exclusively by the worst thing they ever did. It's a story about the importance of having a little space to oneself, a shelter from the demands and threats of an often cruel world, and the lengths to which a person will go to defend such a shelter if it's broached. Also, there's a long, nauseating section about how it's actually really difficult and gross to chop up a human corpse for disposal.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
dead boy detectives reading list
with the show finally out i figured it was a great time to share my reading list again! check it out below the cut 👻☠️🔎
-
⏳ the sandman #25 (1991)
this is their first appearance!
🐇 the children's crusade (1993)/free country: a tale of the children's crusade (2015)
1. the children's crusade #1
(2. black orchid annual #1
3. animal man annual #1
4. swamp thing annual #7
5. doom patrol annual #2
6. arcana annual #1)
7. the children's crusade #2
alternatively you can just read free country. whether or not you read the annuals i recommend reading free country's middle chapter
!!! in place of the annuals there is an additional middle chapter that was created for the book "free country: a tale of the children's crusade" where it is placed between the two children's crusade issues. the boys don't actually appear in most of the annuals (they are in two panels of swamp thing and appear in doom patrol) and reading them isn't necessary but i figured i would include them as they are part of the story.
❄️ winter's edge #3 (2000)
this is an anthology. their part is the 'books of magic: waiting for good dough' story starting on page 19
🐦⬛ the sandman presents: the dead boy detectives (2001, 4 issues)
i believe the tv show's esther finch was partially based on this run's villain.
*
(they do have a part in 'death: at death's door' from 2003. it's short and really just a retelling of events from sandman #25 with some minor changes. the entirety of their appearance in death: at death's door is included at the end of the next comic im listing so i am not really adding the death: at death's door book to the list)
☠️ the dead boy detectives (2005, one-shot)
this book was made by jill thompson in a very cute manga-esque style
👻 ghosts (2012), time warp (2013), the witching hour (2013)
these three are anthologies. the story 'the dead boy detectives in: run ragged' runs through all of them. 'run ragged' kicks off the next run.
🔮 from the pages of the sandman: dead boy detectives (2013, 12 issues)
this is the comic where crystal is introduced! a book collecting all 12 issues titled 'dead boy detectives by toby litt & mark buckingham' was released in 2023
🔎the sandman universe: dead boy detectives (2022, 6 issues)
the most recent run, centered around some really interesting thai mythology and featuring multiple edwin moments that i am sure you will love
-
and that's everything! i also recommend buying the omnibus if you can. it includes everything minus the 2022 run plus some additional bonus content!
i hope this is helpful! feel free to ask me any questions you may have about the comics. dead boy detectives is my number one interest so i should be able to answer
have fun reading! 👻
#dead boy detectives#the sandman#the sandman universe#comics#reading list#edwin paine#edwin payne#charles rowland#crystal palace#crystal palace surname von hoverkraft#painland#paynland#i really hope i didnt mess up while making this post fjdkfkjdkf
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
[This story is the last in my previously-posted anthology of Bionicle short fiction, to which it lends its name]
AIKURU
We arrived at the site before sunrise. It was in a place north of the ridge called Sakerra in the language of our Skrall guides. The discovery had been made only five days ago, and as we made our way down from the wind-worn crags, there were no apparent signs of raiding.
A structure was there in the valley, just as the flyover had reported. It was of the same gray, stonelike material from which all Their architecture is made—so old now that it no longer gleams in the light, but somehow still smooth to the touch.
As soon as we reached the lower steppes, our rangers set about the task of making provision for departure. Four days were allotted to us, and then the existence of the site would be announced to the Quadrate at large. After that, the System Adherents would claim their rights, and the site would be swallowed up in pilgrimage.
The structure was immediately familiar to me as we approached: a broad circle, rounded at the edges, raised from the ground by perhaps two spans to form a low column or stage. Half of the structure was covered beneath a berm of sediment, probably deposited by one flash-flood and then partly washed away by another. We immediately began the process of excavation, except for Neisa, who took up a position on the west side of the structure with her tools for assessing angles and spans, ready to note the position at which the red dawnlight would fall. It was a typical measurement, given the theory that such shrines were oriented in a significant way.
First with shovels and then with small brushes of fine wire, we cleared away the dust and caked mud until the entire circumference was revealed. As I had suspected, the entryway was already opened, and it too was filled with earth. Most of the first day was spent this way: in turns, we sifted through each layer, revealing step by narrow step the spiraling staircase that characterized shrines of this type. They were an original icon: the prototype for the modern chapels of the System Adherents.
I was halfway down the second bend of the staircase, carefully cleaning dirt from the lip of the next step, when Osphos summoned me from above. I emerged with my bucket and saw that he was crouched over the shrine’s far edge. I stepped across the rolls of harak-cloth that had been laid down for the protection of the exterior and made my way over.
“Lytus!” he said, seeing me approach. “Look here.” He pointed at the stone surface before him.
We had already noted the usual markings on top of the shrine: the eighteen-fold division of the broad circle, the components of which descended into a staircase when the shrine was opened. That was nothing new, but here there was something else. Small symbols were carved around the outer edge of the circle; very worn, but still visible.
“They showed up once we cleared off enough sediment,” Osphos said.
“Are they makoki-symbols?”
“Herem’s Eye, that’s the word I was thinking of! Makoki-symbols, yes,” Osphos said. “Ever seen them on a structure like this?”
“No, never. Are we sure they’re original?” I crouched, put an eye close to the surface. “There’s graffiti sometimes, bone-hunter codes, the Matan inscriptions on the eastern sites... These are new to me.”
“Any guess as to what they might signify?”
“Well...” I sat back on my heels, rubbed my eyes. “Makokori are early period, and we don’t find them past Second or Third Myriad—not in the tablets or kini-ruins. Prior to that, they’re inscribed on doorways, and some of the Machines. There are theories that they signify keystones, or some kind of locking mechanism.”
“Fortunate that this shrine is already unlocked for us, then.”
“Yeah... I suppose these symbols might help date the shrine. If they’re original, this might be one of the earliest sites we’ve found. We should do an analysis of the sediment back at Naqua.”
“Already collected some samples. I’ll take a rubbing as well,” Osphos said. “How’s progress on the interior?”
I brushed off my hands. “We’re close. Another turn and we should be at the bottom. I could use more help.”
Osphos snapped his fingers to the other workers who were combing the field-grid for artifacts.
“Double-time on the stairs for the next few hours,” he called. “I want to see the bottom before Solis is down. Let’s move it!”
* * *
We did not reach the bottom. Normally, shrines of this kind exhibit two or three turns of stairs and then level out in a circular chamber. Not this one. Solis had set an hour ago, and still we were digging, our work illuminated only by pale quartz-lanterns. Stair after stair we exhumed, always expecting the next to be the last. But after six turns, descending fully twelve thori—or about six of Their bio—into the earth, still there was no end.
Osphos finally gave the command to stop, frustrating though it was, and we began to pack up the tools. I was at the bottom of the excavation at that point. The air was thick, and my back hurt from crouching for so long. I began to gather the various shovels and brushes that had accumulated around me, handing them up to Neisa on the stair above me.
“Can you handle the rest?” Neisa nodded to the remaining implements.
“Right behind you.” I stood and stretched my limbs in the cramped space, then reached for my tool-bundle and bucket.
Something caught my eye—a glint in the quartzlight, a fragment of something sticking out of the mass of earth before me. I rubbed my tired eyes, blinked away the settling dust. It was still there.
Wordlessly, I snatched up a brush and began to sweep away more dirt. It was metallic—a shaped metal object. There was a corner and a round sweep and...
“Lytus?” Osphos’s voice filtered down from above. He was annoyed. “Pack it in. We’ll get back to it first thing in the—”
“I’ve found something!” I called back. “It’s an object. I’m not sure...”
Eyeholes. A facelike shape. My heart thudded.
“It’s a mask,” I said excitedly. “One of Theirs.”
“What?!” Neisa had come back down the staircase. Light from her lantern spilled into the space. “What condition?”
“Intact, I think.”
She knelt down beside me with a brush of her own. Together we worked to carefully expose the surface of the mask. The sediment here was dry and loose, spilling away in small showers of particulate. All at once, the object came free, along with a mass of unpacked earth. Out of instinct, I put out a hand to catch it.
“Watch it,” Neisa said. “Careful not to—”
I was standing on the stairs, alone. Light was coming from somewhere—not quartzlight, from somewhere below me. Coming up out of the stone itself. I was descending... or had I been ascending? My mind was kuru, and... What? Dark. Foggy. My mind was foggy. What was happening? Where was—
Suddenly the ground lurched, and there was a roaring noise above. I staggered against the smooth poha... no, stone. Against the stone, and the avo flickered below me. The light flickered, rather. Then another tremor knocked me sideways, and stars broke out in my aku as my head struck the poha hard. The avo went out, and the roaring was all around, and it was kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—
“...touch it,” Neisa finished. The metal of the mask was cold against my fingers. The stairs spun, and I felt sick for a moment. Then it was over. I quickly transferred the mask to a strip of harak-cloth, handling it gingerly.
“What was... What did you say?” I shook my head. “Don’t touch it?”
“Yeah... uh, you alright? You look pale.”
I grinned. “I’m fine. Could use some fresh air though. You feeling superstitious or something?”
She scoffed. “I don’t know why I said that. It was silly.”
“You know they say these masks trap the souls of their wearers...”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Neisa bent down to examine the artifact. “Amazing. I’ve only seen them behind glass, or in the sterile rooms at Naqua.”
“Yeah, this is... It’s a find,” I said. The mask felt heavy and solid in my hands.
There was a murmur on the stairs, and I could hear Osphos’s grumbling voice descending toward us. He turned the corner.
“What now?” he said. “Tell me you’ve found something to make this worthwhile.”
“Think so,” I said, holding up the mask.
“What’s that?”
“Are you blind?” Neisa laughed. “It’s a Kanochus Mat—”
“No,” Osphos said, pointing past us. “That.”
There was a cavity in the wall of earth before us. It must have opened up when we removed the mask.
“The bottom!” Neisa said excitedly. She moved forward, shining her light through the gap.
She stopped. It wasn’t the bottom. I could already see. My heart was still thudding. It was dark. It was roaring in my ears. There was a smell, strangely metallic... and another shape sticking out of the dirt. Not a mask.
Fingers. A hand. An arm.
A face. Flat, blank eyes. A circular, wedge-like mouth. Open.
One of Them.
* * *
We stood around the examination table with its harak-draped contents—Osphos, Neisa, and myself. It was afternoon, and Solis was already falling toward the horizon, casting red shadows through the fabric of the tent.
Osphos broke the silence: “I don’t need to impress upon either of you how significant a find this is. Maybe the most significant I’ve overseen.”
“That’s for sure,” Neisa said. “The protobiologists back at the Institute would lose it if they knew...”
“They would, and hopefully they still will.”
We had worked to remove the body from the shrine over the course of the day—Osphos, Neisa, and myself, in shifts. It had been difficult work, but uneventful. Bit by bit we’d brushed away the packed earth and ancient sediment, revealing more and more of the remains. Now extricated from its tomb, the body lay on the large table before us, still wrapped, ready to be examined.
Before today, I’d only ever seen bits and pieces, partial casts of exoskeletons, mock-ups of skull-like faces... But this was different. It was completely intact, as far as we could tell: head, torso, limbs. A monumental find. The first complete specimen of what we called Matorus Matans.
“Before we start, there’s the matter of our timetable,” Osphos continued. “We obviously weren’t expecting a development like this, and that means priorities have changed.” He looked at me: “We might not get back to the shrine. I’m sorry, Lytus.”
My heart sank. “You’re sure? The shrine is pretty significant on its own, and we still haven’t reached the base layer.”
“It’s not going anywhere. The Adherents can have their Node if they want, and we’ll work something out via the Institute later if necessary. These... remains... have to be our focus now. I want them cataloged and prepared for transport offsite.”
“Offsite?” Neisa raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty drastic.”
“There’s good reason,” Osphos said. “The Adherents have some odd notions when it comes to remains of this kind.”
“I mean, they’ll want them interred I suppose, but...”
“Maybe. It’s complicated—”
The tent-flap opened, and someone else entered carrying a bundle of implements. It was one of the junior researchers—Cyrcia.
“Yes?” Osphos said flatly.
“I told her that she could observe,” I said, beckoning her in. “Neisa and I thought we could use an extra set of hands.”
“You’ve done catalog before?” Osphos asked.
“Yes, I have,” Cyrcia replied. Her eyes passed over the table and its contents, then back up. “It’s a real honor, I’ve gotta say—”
“I’m sure it is. Grab a tablet, and get ready to make notes.” Osphos turned to the table, cracked his knuckles.
“The light’s a bit better now. Neisa, will you do the honors?”
Neisa began to carefully pull back the cloth that covered the body while I unrolled a bundle of fine tools. The limbs and lower torso were still encrusted with sediment. I’d start with that while Neisa took her measurements. We each began to call out observations in turn for Cyrcia to transcribe. We moved quickly, notating and tagging the legs and the squared-off feet, then the lower torso with its segments, then the upper torso.
“One and a half thori across the chest,” Neisa called out, “and we’ll say ten sub-thori for the arms...”
“Primary exoskeleton is of common morphology,” Osphos said. “Similar format to those recovered from the Galian Sea. Connective tissues are mostly decayed...”
“Some surface corrosion around the joining plates,” I added. “Centerline and upper shoulders. Only 1-2 ditori of penetration. Make note for dating purposes, mark upper-left buckle for cross-sectioning...”
“Twelve sub-thori across the lower mid-section. Five sub-thori for each of the radial pistons...”
“Tissue residue along the clavicle struts. Mark for lab-sampling. Limbs and neck will need to be secured for transport...”
Finally, we reached the head. I tugged the cloth upward and pulled it off. Cyrcia gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
“First time?” Neisa said, smiling.
“Yes, but... shouldn’t it be... shouldn’t it stay covered?”
“It’s a corpse,” Osphos said. “Just a body, like yours or mine. Several ten-myriads older, but nothing to be afraid of, despite all the superstitions.”
“Right... sorry.”
“Can you handle it?”
“I can.”
“Good. Let’s keep going then. And remember—no souvenirs. We’re not bone hunters here.”
Neisa rolled her eyes. The practice of fashioning talismans from Their relics and remains had fortunately been curbed in recent centuries, though you could still find them in the odd back-alley market.
We finished primary cataloging, and Osphos stepped to one of the crates, removing a bundle he had stored there. He moved back to the table and unwrapped it. Smooth metal glinted in the tent. Two eyeholes stared up at the tent-roof. Cyrcia’s eyes goggled at the ancient mask.
“Shall we do a match-up?” Neisa asked, nodding to the exposed face. “This would have been the specimen’s personal Kanochus. It must have been separated during whatever flood or mudslide buried the shrine.”
There was a noise in my ears. Roaring noise, and a memory of a dark place... I shook it off as Osphos moved to the head of the table after double-checking the mask’s interior. He lowered the mask gingerly over the face, lining up the mouth-apertures. There was a faint click. Neisa leaned over to see how it fit over the side-vents—
Dark eyes glowed, and a light winked on in the center of the chest. Pistons hissed. Joints creaked. The body sat up suddenly in a shower of dust, limbs convulsing, fingers clenching and unclenching. I stumbled backward in shock, tripping over the low crates that lined the tent-wall. The masked face swiveled mechanically in my direction, and there was a noise. Not a noise—a voice. The rounded wedge-mouth was grinding out syllables at me. Alien sounds. Alien words. I put up my hands to ward it off, and—
Everyone was standing still. The eyes were dark. The body had not moved. I was sitting on a crate, my ears ringing. Neisa was looking down at me with a concerned expression.
“You okay, Lytus?”
“I... I got dizzy,” I lied.
“How much sleep did you get last night?” Osphos asked. He had removed the mask and was wrapping it up again.
“A few hours at least. I’m fine, really.” I stood up, looking at the motionless body warily, trying to compose myself. No one else had seen what I had seen. It hadn’t really happened. Neisa was still looking at me.
“Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. First in the shrine, and then this. Maybe you should see a medic.”
Before I could reply, the tent-flap opened and another worker poked his head in. He was out of breath.
“Sorry, to bother you, boss, but there’s, uh... Someone’s here to talk to you.”
“Someone?” Osphos frowned.
“There was an airship, not two minutes ago. It landed beyond the ridge, and someone’s approaching from the trail.”
“Herem’s Eye,” Osphos swore.
* * *
The rangers escorted the strangers—there were two of them, actually—down to the edge of the camp.
One was tall—clearly an Athori—and as he approached, it was plain that he was fully armored; head to toe, like the Glatorian of old. The other was much shorter, bent over, leaning on a staff. It was a Skrall—an ancient one, by the head-crest.
Both of them wore metal masks. Only their eyes were visible.
The tall one planted himself just ahead, his squared-off, armored feet crunching in the gravel. The Skrall settled himself on a low metal stool beside him.
Osphos stepped forward. “Welcome,” he said politely. “I am Osphos, the overseer of this excavation. And you are?”
“My designation is Tasius,” the tall one said. His voice rang harsh behind the mask. “I am a Toa of the Adherency, of the Ackarian line. This...” he gestured to the Skrall, “...is Tura Shozu, elder of the Adherent Node at New Tellu. We have been sent to make claim upon this site.
“You’ve lost no time, it seems,” Osphos said dryly. “I wasn’t aware the Quadrate had opened the site at this time.”
“The site and its contents must be turned over at once. We—” Tasius stopped suddenly. The Skrall had raised a wizened hand.
“You are aware,” the elder said in a thin voice, “that the Adherency is granted right of access to all sites attributed to the System of Mata, are you not?”
“Well aware, yes. That is what we aim to determine: the provenance of the site, and the proper methods of its excavation and preservation, according to our charter.”
“Preservation or contamination?” The Skrall’s glance flicked to the tents behind us. “Our intelligence has indicated that this site is of particular significance to the Adherency.”
“You can follow the proper channels to make your claims, like everyone else.”
The Skrall continued undeterred:
“We have been made aware of certain... remains... left at this site. What is their nature, and how have they been contained?”
I could see the muscles in Osphos’s jaw flexing.
“Our excavation is less than two days old. May I ask the source of your ‘intelligence’?”
“The System is knowledge. Through Unity, knowledge is shared.”
“Fascinating,” Osphos said. “Well, regardless of your sources, I can’t give you access to the site at this time. By charter, the Quadrate has—”
“Animal remains, yes? Within the structure. I was led to believe that it was a beast.”
“I’m not at liberty to make that assessment.”
“May I see the remains?”
“All materials found at this site will be made publicly available.”
“I demand to see the remains.”
“No.”
The Skrall smiled. “Thank you for your candor. We have a truth-saying, amongst the Nodes: ‘The people of the world are of one nature or the other: Look into their hearts, and you will see that they are either Builders or Destroyers.”
“With respect, I believe it may be more complicated than that.”
“Then I have looked into your heart.”
“Uh…thank you. Is that all, Tura? We have a lot of work still to do.”
“I shall take word of our conversation to the Node Hierarchy and return later.”
“Fine by me.”
The Skrall put out a crooked hand and closed it into a fist in the manner of the Adherents. He inclined his head, waiting. After a moment, Osphos stepped forward and pressed his own fist against the elder’s. Then it was over. The Athori helped the Skrall to stand, and the two of them departed back up the slope, accompanied by the rangers. Osphos stood and watched, tapping his foot. He spoke quietly, keeping his face fixed in a smile.
“So much for offsite transport,” he growled after a few minutes. “They’ll have eyes on the camp now. By Angon, if we’d been just a bit quicker...” He swore again. Then, satisfied that the rangers had escorted the Toa far enough, he turned back to the camp.
“Nothing for it now. Let’s clean up and get things packed away. Oh, and Lytus—”
“Yeah?”
“Get some sleep—for real this time. I can’t have you falling over again during sensitive work.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
* * *
I didn’t sleep well that night after all. Instead, I dreamed.
Long, complicated dreams. Dreams that didn’t make any sense. I was in the stairwell of the shrine again. I was on a bright, open plain. I was speaking words and sentences that meant nothing to me. I was running from a dark, crashing wave that rolled over me and pressed on my face, on my mouth.
I was walking on the open plain again, and two suns were shining down on me. My face was still covered though, somehow. I reached up to claw at whatever was there. It came away in my hands.
It was my face, staring up at me.
I was lying in my cot, and the tent was dark. The desert night was cold outside. I shivered and turned over. There was a noise at the tent-flap, something scraping in the dirt. The dull ring of metal on poha... on stone.
The flaps shook. It was trying to get in. It was grinding, grinding words and syllables at me, words that meant nothing. It was roaring, roaring noise and darkness, darker than the night. It was kuru, ai kuru, roaring over the camp, crashing through the walls of my tent in a wave and sweeping me down into dark, into kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—
“Lytus?” Neisa’s voice brought me fully awake. It was morning. My bleary eyes focused, and I could see her silhouette through the side of the tent. “Lytus, you awake?”
“I’m up, sorry. What’s going on?”
“The emissary from the Adherents is back. Osphos is speaking with them.”
“Oh. What should we do?”
“Osphos said to stay put. Probably wouldn’t look good to have everyone out at the shrine right now.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah I’m heading over to one of the storage tents to help with tagging. Want to help?”
“Sure, I’ll follow you over in a bit.”
After a few minutes, I stepped outside into the pale red sunlight. I could see Osphos and a couple of the rangers on the far side of the circle of tents. The Athori and the Skrall were there as well. Their voices echoed faintly in the morning air, and I found myself walking closer. I stepped behind one of the taller tents nearby.
“...does not accord with our canons,” the Skrall was saying.
“I confess, Shozu—can I call you Shozu?”
“The correct title is ‘Tura’,” another voice said brusquely—the armored Athori.
“Sorry... Tura,” Osphos continued. “I’m not as familiar with the canons of Adherency as I should be, but I can assure you—”
“It is of utmost importance that we examine the site. The Kanohi in particular must be handed over.”
They knew about the mask somehow. Had they been spying on the camp?
“As I’ve said, that is something to take up with the Quadrate.”
“It is already in process, but the matter is urgent.”
“I must adhere to my charter and await further orders. Until then, we’ll continue our work.”
“We must be allowed to supervise. My companion here is trained in the handling of such objects. They must be treated with utmost care.”
“Yes, and—”
“And these remains—they must be verified. Some hapless bone hunter or a beast, I’m sure.”
“As I’ve told you, it is clearly a specimen of Matorus Matans, good Tura. There’s no mistaking it.”
“And as I have said, this is not in accord with our canons. Such things only lead to greater kuru.”
“Pardon?”
“Greater obscurity—my apologies. The Children of Mata are not some extinct automaton race. We ourselves are the heirs to the Great System Hierarchy. You must understand—”
“Your beliefs are your own.”
“...The Kanohi are precious. They connect us to the spirit of Mata, and to the spirits of those from the Before Time...”
My mind was racing, an avalanche of thoughts, fragments of dreams. A roaring noise, and dark, and kuru... What was happening to me? The Kanohi are precious... They connect us to the spirit of Mata...
What if...?
“Only then can we hope to repair the Shattering,” the elder was saying.
“With respect,” Osphos replied, “the Shattering is ancient history. It was repaired, at least five myriads ago.”
“A common myth, but it is a great untruth.”
I could tell Osphos was short on patience by now: “I can literally point it out to you in the strata. You see that ridge there? The Sakerran Ridge? It’s the tail end of a subduction zone where the Botan and Baran plates met—”
The Skrall laughed dryly: “A fantastical narrative, I admit, that a planet could be broken in pieces. But the reality is much more abstract. We ourselves live within the Shattering, my friend: the decay of the Great System Hierarchy of the Great Beings, which they called Mata Nui...”
“I do not—”
“We the Matoran,” the Skrall continued, ignoring him, “the Children of Mata, work now to rebuild and restore the Great System, in accordance with our canon. To connect all things together, till the scattered elements are made whole. Only then will the Great Beings return and truly heal this world.”
A long moment passed. The air was thick with tension.
“Ahem... I do not believe this conversation is productive,” Osphos said at last. “I’m not granting you access to the site at this time—no matter what your canons say. You’ll just have to wait for your request to be approved by the Quadrate, and that’s that, by Angon.”
Something happened. There was a scuffling noise, and the clank of armor.
“Hold it! That’s enough, you—”
I peeked over the top of the tent. The Athori—the one who had called himself a ‘Toa’—was standing between Osphos and the Skrall now, fists clenched. For a moment, I thought... I thought the air around him was shimmering with heat, like high noon on the desert. Then it was gone. There were rangers standing all around, and I noticed that they had weapons at the ready. One of them swung a bolas lazily.
“Control your guard, Shozu,” Osphos spat. “My reports go directly to the Quadrate. They’ll hear of this.”
“Take not the names of the Great Beings in vain!” the Skrall said indignantly, pointing a crooked finger from his stool. “The canon shall not be denied, nor shall it be mocked.”
“I’ve said all I have to say, by Angon.” He emphasized the expletive. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Tura, I’m on a timetable—”
“Such things lead only to kuru and ukuru worse! We must strive for clarity...!”
I had heard enough. Quietly I crept away between the tents, back toward the other side of the camp. The Skrall’s words spun in my mind as I walked. Kuru and ukuru worse. Something was wrong—ever since I had touched that mask... was that when it started? What did the Skrall know? I wanted to tell someone, but who would believe it? I was tired, that was all. It had been a long few days, full of strangeness and excitement. That must be it. I hoped so...
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. We didn’t get much work done—mostly tagging and storing various artifacts found around the site. I was itching to get back to the shrine, but Osphos was wary. He had sent couriers south to apprise our Quadrate contacts of the situation, but they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Until then, we were stuck.
In the evening, Osphos sought me out. He had a bundle under one arm.
“Here, Lytus. I’d like you to keep this in your tent.”
It was the mask. My mouth was suddenly very dry.
“Is that, uh, necessary?”
“Maybe not, but I’m taking no chances. The Adherents aren’t getting any more patient. Neisa’s keeping some other artifacts, and I think I’ll sleep in the examination tent tonight, just in case.”
“You mean... with the body?”
“Don’t make it sound creepier than it is.”
“Sorry.”
He offered the mask. I took it. My fingers felt numb.
“Tell you what, we’ll take another pass at excavating the shrine in the morning, try to get to the bottom.”
“That’s great! I’ll have my gear ready.”
“Only one day left to go, so what have we got to lose, right?”
The mask felt heavier than I remembered.
* * *
I had the dream again that night, or something like it. A stairwell, a bright plain with two suns. A dark roaring... Then... Then something else. A dim enclosure. Fabric walls. A tent? I was lying on my back, and my limbs were bound tight. My face was covered, but not with heavy suffocating darkness like before. It was lightweight, like cloth. I struggled, I yelled. My words were meaningless again.
The tent-flap shook, like last time. I could hear it, the scraping, the grinding. It was trying to get in, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything. The entrance parted, and there was darkness outside. Darkness on the ground, and in the darkness... now there was a crawling thing. Crawling, dragging itself through the dust, right up to the place where I lay. I could feel it. See it, even though my face was covered. Its flat eyes glowed, and its mouth was open. Grasping hands rose up toward me and searched, reached, searched—
I was standing in front of myself, seeing myself. I was stretched out beneath the covering, on the table. I was walking under stars, and my hands were full of something. I looked down and saw that I was holding my face. It looked up at me, up at the stars. I tried to put it back on, but it wasn’t my face anymore. It was glowing eyes and grasping hands, and a mouth grinding syllables and words. It was a shape under fabric, stretched out on a table in the dark, and I stood before it, holding its face... my face.
I clawed at the covering, trying to pull it off, but the noise was approaching again. The roaring, rolling noise, and my face... its face... my face was grinding alien sounds and alien words, and it was so dark in the stairwell, in the cold, heavy earth. So dark under the cloying wrap of fabric, so kuru it was, and ukuru worse, ai kuru, ai ukuru—
I awakened in a cold sweat and rolled over. My hands slid in sand, and a stinging thornbush brought me fully awake. I wasn’t in my cot. Wasn’t in my tent. How...? It was still nighttime, but there were lights in the encampment, and the sound of people running. I could hear voices. What was happening? I stumbled up, brushing dust from my face, and realized that I was in the space next to my own tent. I went to the entrance and looked inside. No one there. Then I looked out toward the center of the camp, trying to get my bearings.
A figure came out of the darkness, and I flinched as it grabbed my arm. It was Osphos. He was out of breath.
“Where is it, Lytus?” he hissed. “The body—it’s gone!”
“What, from the examination tent?”
“Yes that body, by Angon. Did you do something? I didn’t even hear...”
“N-no, of course not!”
“What about Neisa? Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t.”
“Have you seen anyone?!”
“No, I just woke up!”
“Adherents...” He ground his teeth. “Ah, the Quadrate will hear of this...”
“Wait—Are you sure?”
“Who else? It’s gone from the tent, but nothing else has been taken. I came right here once I realized. Where’s the mask? Has anyone been in your tent?” He pushed past me, through the entrance.
A crawling thing, a thing with glowing eyes, reaching out... but that wasn’t my tent, was it?
“N-no, no one,” I stammered.
“Where did you put it? I have to be sure.”
I moved to the back of the tent and opened my personal crate. The hinges creaked. “It’s right here, see?”
The mask was gone, wrapping and all. Osphos saw.
“Acta!” he cursed, and then let fly a string of imprecations, invoking the dream-eater and the death-mind, among others. “What, were you drugged or something?!”
“I don’t know... Osphos, I—” I tried to get it out. “I had a dream, or I thought it was a dream. I keep seeing things...”
“Spare me.” He stormed out of the tent, and I followed, feeling absolutely bewildered. There was too much happening, too fast.
“Go find Neisa,” Osphos ordered. “I’m heading back to the examination tent. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, boss.”
I snatched up a quartz-lantern and made my way across the encampment toward Neisa’s tent. Hers was the last tent on the outer ring of the camp. My lantern cast a pale glow over the ground as I went, and I could see that there were lights in the hills now, figures moving up and down the steppe. The rangers were likely combing the perimeter. I stopped for a moment to watch, then realized that I had stupidly lost track of which tent was which. Was Neisa on the east or the west side?
I backtracked. The tents all looked the same in the quartzlight. I took a different turn... and now found myself standing on the path that led out to the open part of the valley. Out toward the shrine.
There were footprints in the dirt. Very fresh. Hard-edged, square toe. Where had I seen that before? I looked up the path, raising the lantern. There was something else. I stepped forward to investigate. It was a heap of cloth, harak-cloth, in small strips. Further up the path, there was another bundle cast to the side.
I kept walking, quickening my pace. More bits of cloth here and there. More footprints. Soon, the edge of the shrine loomed ahead. I moved toward it, stepping gingerly through the rope-grids that were stretched over the ground. I made a circuit of the shrine, then I climbed up on top. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. I shed quartzlight all around, then I stooped to look into the stairwell. The dust on the stairs had recently been disturbed—
“Get down from there,” a voice said, and I whirled to see the towering figure of the Athori Tasius standing on the trail.
“You—” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I have every right,” the Athori said, stepping forward. “Remove yourself from the sacred Amaja!”
I put up my hands appeasingly and complied, climbing back down to the ground and taking a few steps toward him.
“I saw footprints on the trail up here,” I said. “Were they yours?”
“On the trail? No. I came from the hills. I have been charged to keep watch over the Amaja, to make sure no one further contaminates the site.”
“Did you see anyone come here ahead of me?”
“No.”
“There’s been a theft in the camp,” I said. “Do you have anything to do with that?” I immediately regretted asking so directly.
“Theft?” The Athori’s eyes widened. “Theft of what?” He took another step toward me.
“Uh...”
“Tell me!”
“The mask! The... the Kanohi, you call it. Someone took it tonight.”
“What else?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
The Athori said a word that was foreign to me. Probably a curse. He looked back toward the camp. His hands were clenched.
“Listen,” I said, “it looks like someone has entered the shrine. It wasn’t you, was it?”
“I am forbidden, without the Tura,” he said.
“Well, I’ll need to check inside.” I took a step back toward the shrine. “It will only take a second. If you’ll just wait here—”
A heavy, armored grip fell on my shoulder and I was forcefully turned back around. The Athori was fast, and very strong.
“The Amaja will not be touched again,” his voice said, deadly serious. I could feel hot breath through the mouth-piece of his mask. “You and your people have brought rahi upon this place, but no more. Now, I—”
He stopped suddenly, and I felt his fingers seize. He was looking past me, up at the shrine. I turned slowly.
Glowing eyes. An ancient mask. A small figure stood upon the top of the shrine, unmoving. I could see it. The Athori could see it. It was no hallucination this time. Not a dream.
“M-manas!” the Athori croaked. “Get back!”
He shoved me to the side before I could say a word.
And then he burst into flame.
Real flame, like the elementals of old who had been devoured by the Great Beings’ wrath. I didn’t even have time to register shock or surprise before the heat washed over me. Instinctively I threw up my arms to protect myself.
“Stop!” I shouted, scrambling away. “You’ll damage the site! Stop it!”
The fire whirled up and resolved into a glowing nimbus around the Athori’s hands and head. He drew a strange tool from a slot in his armor, and aimed it at the figure atop the shrine.
“No!”
Something flew out of the dark—a whirling rope-like thing—and wrapped itself around Tasius’s burning face and neck. The ends of the bolas whirled for a split second before they snapped tight, and the loud clack of the weights meeting their target made my teeth hurt. The fire went out suddenly, and the scene plunged into darkness. I heard the tramp of feet on the path, and voices shouting. Quartzlight bobbed in the distance.
I was already up and over the top of the shrine before I knew what I was doing. The figure was gone. The opening of the stairwell yawned before me—cool dark after the furnace heat—and I was scrambling down the stairs, two at a time.
“Wait!” I shouted, but my voice was blunted on the stone. “Come back!”
Turn after turn I went. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was pitch-black. I should have grabbed my lantern, but I had dropped it. I realized my hands were burned. They stung when I touched the wall, feeling my way along. I stumbled, picked myself up, and then felt earth against my fingers. The wall of earth where we had stopped excavating. No one was here... Had I been mistaken? Had the figure not gone back into the shrine? Maybe it had run off...
There was light, I realized. It wasn’t pitch-black here. My eyes adjusted, and I saw with a shock that the earth wall wasn’t a wall anymore. It had been dug through, shoveled back and shored up into the walls of a narrow tunnel. When had the others done this? Why hadn’t they notified me? There were handprints in the dust, I noticed. Squared-off palm, five fingers.
Heedless, I push on, squeezing through the tunnel, wriggling on my chest. For a moment I thought I was stuck, and panic surged, but then I was through, and there was no more earth. No more dirt or sediment. The stairs on the other side were clear, pristine. We had been so close, after all.
The light was stronger here, filtering up from somewhere below me. Coming up out of the stone itself. I had been here before, hadn’t I? No, not possible. I had just come through the tunnel... and I was descending... or had I been ascending? My mind was... my mind was kuru, and... foggy... What was I doing here again? I was waiting for something, wasn’t I? Waiting for a roaring sound... a darkness to come and cover me. I had been here many times, in my dreams.
No, that had been before, long ago. This time it was different. I was descending, and the light was getting stronger. Another bend of the stairs, and then the stairs ended.
It was a round, level, circular room—just like the many others I had seen before. The first thing I noticed was the Pedestal. In shrines of this kind, there was usually a square pedestal at one end, surmounted by a face-like image. In later types, the image was the skull of an animal, usually a Spikit or an Ironwolf.
On this one, there was a mask. It was the mask. It was glowing, and the light was coming out of every surface. My heart was thudding.
I was not alone. The body lay in a heap on the ground before the pedestal. I could see scorch marks on its back and upper arms. I came closer and saw that it was moving slightly. Slow breaths. The eyes glowed faintly.
I touched it, gently, almost reverently. It was strange how my mind resisted the idea that this was no longer... remains... It was living, somehow. After all these eons, it was alive. The dim eyes shifted, fixed on me. The mouth moved, and the wedge-like shapes ground out their halting syllables and words, but I still could not understand.
How had it gotten the mask?
A crawling thing, with glowing eyes, searching, reaching.
A shape under fabric, stretched out on a table in the dark.
What was happening to me?
I was walking under stars. I was crawling, dragging through the dust. I was standing in front of myself, looking down at myself. I was holding my face in my hands. I was touching an ancient mask in a small, cramped space, and sparks were leaping into me. Its metal was cold against my fingers. The Kanohi are precious, I remembered. They connect us to the spirit of Mata...
It was dark all around. It was roaring. It was kuru, ai kuru, ai kuru ai—
A metal hand touched me weakly and brought me back to reality. The finger pointed up at the glowing mask atop the pedestal, and I understood. It needed the mask—its personal Kanochus.The mask had activated the shrine, but the circuit was incomplete. It needed the mask back, in order to accomplish whatever purpose it intended. Whatever purpose it had been kept from all those eons ago.
There was a noise on the stairs. Voices murmuring. The thud of metal on stone. How much time had passed? I had lost track. They would be looking for me. Hopefully the rangers had done their work.
“I’m here!” I shouted up. The voices continued. The hand gripped my arm again. The mouth ground out more words.
“I know,” I said.
I stood and pulled the mask off the pedestal. It sparked in my hands, and I felt a charge go through me... or maybe that feeling had already been there, ever since I touched the mask, days ago. Something had been clinging to me. I felt it now. Something intangible, something in my thoughts and my dreams. I had joked about trapped souls to Neisa, but now I wasn’t so sure...
The light increased. I bent toward the body... not just a body—toward the Matoran... and—
A wave of heat rushed down the stairwell, and a burning smell filled the chamber. I froze, and fear surged in my chest as I turned my head to look.
It was the old Skrall. He was standing on the stairs, leaning on his staff. His eyes were sharp behind his mask, and somewhere in the back of my mind it clicked, that although the masks of the Adherents were clearly forged like the one I now held, they were subtly different, like a picture whose original reference had been lost. A copy of a copy of a copy...
“Hold a moment,” the Skrall said urgently. “You stand on sacred ground. Disturb not the machines of the Great Beings.”
“I don’t know what that means.” I stood up and turned around slowly. The Skrall’s eyes widened as he saw what I was holding... and what was slumped behind me.
“That Kanohi...” he hissed, descending another step. “It is meant for the Children of Mata alone. You must give it to me—it is not for you to touch!”
“I’ve already touched it. It has... shown me things. Things I don’t understand.”
The Skrall’s breath hissed in his mask.
“Give it to me, and all shall be restored to unity.”
“It’s not yours. It belongs to... to this one.” I pointed at the Matoran. The dim eyes looked at the wizened elder, but the Skrall averted his gaze.
“This is not in accord with our canons,” he intoned.
“I don’t—”
“Such things only lead to greater kuru.”
I was on a stairway. I was on a great open plain, beneath two suns. My face was covered, but it was not my face. Not anymore. It belonged to someone else.
“You’re wrong.” I held the mask close.
“The canon shall not be denied, nor shall it be mocked. Give me the mask.”
The Skrall was not alone now. Another figure moved into the stairwell behind him. A cracked and broken mask, a bruised and bloodied face. More heat poured into the chamber as the Athori Tasius descended, eyes still glowing with fire.
I shrank back to the pedestal, and the lights of the shrine brightened further. The Matoran moved pitifully. We were trapped. The pedestal was humming. Waiting.
Waiting.
The Athori was moving, hindered by the small opening. His armored hand reached out at me, white-hot.
But I had already placed the mask on the Matoran’s face, and the charge that I had felt in my body went out of me... back into the mask, into the Matoran.
And the shrine was blazing white with light, and the pedestal was retracting into the wall. And the Skrall was staggering back onto the stairs, eyes raving. And the Athori was still moving forward, overbalanced, tipping forward into suddenly empty space.
The walls were pulled back and then were gone as the bottom of the shrine became a circular platform and dropped down, down into pitch-black. The stairwell shrank into the distance above us, and I saw the Athori hang for a moment, glowing with heat. Then he fell, whirling like a fiery meteor, right past the edge of the descending platform and away into the greater dark.
Gone.
A few moments passed, maybe longer. I sank down on the platform, exhausted and spent. The Matoran was sitting next to me. It reached out and gripped my shoulder with its metal hand. Its eyes were glowing bright again, and the light in its chest blinked steadily, despite the corrosion and scorch-marks that covered the rest of its body. It looked at me, and its mouth shifted into a different configuration.
I think it was smiling.
Cold air rushed past us as we fell onward, onward into unknown. I don’t know how long we spent in that smooth descent. I looked up and saw nothing above, and nothing on either side. I wondered if I would ever see the surface again, if I would ever have a chance to tell someone. I wondered what was happened or had happened in the camp. I wondered if anyone else but the two Adherents knew what had happened to me, to the mask, to the Matoran...
Except for the light of the platform beneath us, it was dark all around. Featureless, unbroken dark.
“Kuru,” I said aloud, unbidden, remembering the word.
“Ha te ai kuru,” my companion replied, nodding.
I shivered and rubbed my arms.
“Ukuru,” I said.
“Ru,” it replied, standing up. “Ru te aikuru. Akuya.”
The Matoran went to the edge of the platform—too close for my comfort—and pointed out into the surrounding dark.
“Akuya,” it said, and gestured at my... my eyes. My aku. Look. It beckoned me and pointed again. And hesitating, shivering, I rose and went to where it stood, and looked out. And I saw:
Rising up over us, ascending as we descended into the depths of Spherus Magna... Deeper than any excavation could reach, deeper than the catacombs of lost Atero, or the mass tombs of the Glatori hosts, farther and deeper than the silo-vaults of the Great Beings, or the maze-labyrinths of Old Skralla, or the vast mutated seabeds of Old Spherus... Far beyond the reach of Quadrates or Adherencies, of charters or canons...
Past the unknown dark, the aikuru...
There were stars, and two suns rising.
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
<stream> end of NieRRein
So. There's a NieR gacha. I've talked about it now and again on here.
In contrast to other games in the NieR series, which were in narrative structure reasonably traditional action-RPGs, following a small group of characters... NieR: Re[in]carnation is something a bit more like an anthology of short stories, all eventually tied together in an elaborate frame.
Over the course of the story, you are led to explore a vast collection of memories inside something called the Cage, a huge Ico-like stone structure full of gorgeous, moody environments...
...intermittently diving into the most dramatic moments of an impressively varied collection of characters, each portrayed in a cutout theatre style. They're a diverse bunch! Robot cowboys. Mountain climbers. AIs both kind and ruthless. Dark wizard yuri. Arabian Nights pastiche. Chuuni soldier boys. Elegant assassins, living weapons, disposable clones. Some are fantasy, some science fiction; some weave together and others sit apart.
And as you play further, you can unlock further stories, in various forms. All sorts of illustrations, all sorts of prose. The framing stories - the story of the girl Fio and the monster Levania who stole her body, the story of the violently estranged siblings Yuzuki and Hina, the story of the mysterious nature of the Cage, of its collapse, and the desperate bid to escape - all are very rich. The final chapters, where the characters are all finally brought together, are fantastic.
Not to mention - everything is voice acted, and generally very well (in Japanese at any rate, the English is more of a mixed bag). All is accompanied by a huge amount of gorgeous music by Keiichi Okabe et al., wrapping you in that mysterious, layered atmosphere. The UI design is magnificent. On an aesthetic level at least, there is a great deal to recommend here.
However.
As a game, NieR Reincarnation sadly left a lot to be desired. The gameplay is intensely repetitive, the strategy more to do with unlocking the right characters and grinding to level them up. Understandably, a lot of people bounced off it.
And now it's coming to an end.
In just a couple of days, the final chapter of NieR Reincarnation will be released. A month later, the game servers will be shut down for good! Perhaps, years in the future, they will release some kind of remake - but we can't count on it.
But don't imagine you can just jump in and experience it all right now. A great deal of material - the Dark Memories, the Recollections of Dusk - is gated behind a considerable investment of time and a strong team. There's a lot of events you'll simply have missed.
However... I have, perhaps unwisely, sunk the time into unlocking most of what can be unlocked in this game. I think it would be a shame not to get to experience them, and I love getting to share NieR games. These stories take some wild turns, and I think it would be a blast to watch together.
So here's the plan! Starting this weekend, and going on for as long as necessary over the next week, I'll be streaming the entire story of NieR Reincarnation on my twitch. Main story, character stories, EX stories: the whole lot, arranged for narrative flow. All the fun spicy parts and none of the grind, and you get to enjoy it with friends.
If you've been here for previous NieR game streams... well, I hope you had as great a time as I did. I fucking love NieR. For the other games, I would dig into the side material, read out fan translations of the stories, and do everything I can to give you the complete experience of the game. Here, there's not so much in the way of side material, but the game contains a lot on its own - and I want to share it all, the gut-punch parts and the goofy ones alike, because it all adds up.
Think of it kinda like an Animation Night if you want! An anthology series to enjoy together, just like the Animator Expo.
The first stream will begin on Saturday, 6pm UK time. I'll be making recordings and writing a guide to the story of the game too - but there's something special about watching something together, so I'd really love to see you there ^^
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
Character Studies: A Baldur's Gate 3 Rec List
This week, we have Character Studies! Check under the cut for nine fics that delve into the minds of our favorite adventurers, and as always, comment and kudos if you like them!
Under the Sussur Tree by spacesunderstairs (73751,Mature)
Warnings: Child loss, violence, mild sexual content in later chapters
Pairings: Astarion/Tav
Halinae is a reclusive drow infected with a mindflayer parasite, determined to find the only true friend she ever had before she turns: a young boy she tutored on the Savage Frontier.
Reccer says: I liked it!
Night time bitch, time for night time shit by Aliantic (19416,Teen)
Warnings: N/A
Pairings:
An anthology of short stories about life around camp, filling in some gaps, especially when Tav's either asleep or not around.
Reccer says: I love gapfiller fics that focus on small moments between the big events of the story, and this is a *great* series of gapfillers.
Lost in Frozen Fire by SadinaSaphrite (10333,Explicit)
Warnings: Torture, the explicit tag is not bc of sex
Pairings: Astarion & Jaheira
Ulma said the Gur would not hunt Astarion anymore, but she can't control all of them. Astarion has a no good very bad time when one Gur father tries to take revenge.
Reccer says: Astarion trying to move on post-canon and realizing he does have friends. Even if he has a bad time!
caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide (18925,Teen)
Warnings:
Pairings: Astarion & Karlach, Astarion & Wyll
What if Astarion was force fed klauthgrass? What if it was super effective on vampires?
Reccer says: Poor Astarion has a bad time, great exploration of his character and how he responds when forced to be honest
Those left behind by Gally (11944,Mature)
Warnings: Astarion's past abused is mentioned a lot, but its not the focus
Pairings: Astarion/Karlach, Astarion & Wyll, Astarion & Shadowheart, Astarion & Gale
Astarion and Karlach were in love! Then she burned up. Astarion has lost even more, but (un)life must go on. Post-canon exploration of what that might be like for him. Don't worry if it sounds dark, trust me, there's lots of humor here too!
Reccer says: Laugh or cry? No no, laugh AND cry!
Fool Me Once by cyranonic (6975,Mature)
Warnings: None
Pairings: Karlach & Gortash, Karlach & Astarion
A collection of vignettes showing Karlach growing loyal to one master manipulator and tyrant
Reccer says: Karlach is written SO WELL here, and the subtle manipulation is just perfect! And then Astarion's comfort at the end is just the cherry on top. Superb
a new light by planetundersiege (803,Mature)
Warnings: None
Pairings: Lae'zel/Shadowheart
After experiencing Shadowheart almost slitting her throat, Lae'zel gains a new appreciation for her.
Reccer says: A wonderful look into Lae'zel's mind as she navigates the conflict with Shadowheart
Break the Surface by stormandstarlight (4056,Teen)
Warnings: Mention of drowning
Pairings:
A musing on vampires, rivers, various silences, and the breaking thereof.
Reccer says: Oh I just loved this! It was incredibly evocative and poetic
Fury Oh Fury by Tinwoman (2762,Explicit)
Warnings: None
Pairings: Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Lae'zel/Karlach, Lae'zel/wyll, Lae'zel/gale, Lae'zel/Astarion,
Character study about how lae'zel would be with each if she took them as her lover.
Reccer says: It's just really interesting to me! I like how different each interaction is.
The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!
Next week, we’ll be back with Tav Focused Fics!
#bw3#bw3 rec list#baldurs gate 3#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#fanfic rec list#character study#fanfiction
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kaiju Week in Review (January 7-13, 2024)
Hard to talk about the Monarch: Legacy of Monsters finale without spoilers, so if you haven't watched it yet, skip ahead to the next item. No flashbacks this time (time dilation aside), just our surviving heroes finally all on the same page to solve a seemingly impossible problem. The momentous reunion between Lee and Keiko got the space it deserved, although I was a touch disappointed that the obvious budding romance between Cate and May got shortchanged. And of course we finally got our first kaiju fight of the series, with Godzilla dispatching the Ion Dragon in a quick but ferocious battle. Fun to see this version of the character take on a low-stakes, low-power challenger for a change. I am routinely frustrated by TV seasons ending on cliffhangers (some of which are then never resolved), but they managed to conclude this season's storyline while setting up the next one, should they have the chance to tell it. Good to have some payoff to the Apex episode earlier in the series. I'm wondering if the series is planning to pivot to Kong now. Since Godzilla: King of the Monsters still hasn't happened yet, the Big G still can't make any public appearances without breaking continuity, which is quite the writing complication.
youtube
@bog-o-bones has blessed us with an excellent feature-length video essay on the history of the kaiju genre. Even for a walking encyclopedia like me, it was fun to have it all laid out so cleanly—the way the three genre pillars of Godzilla, Gamera, and Ultraman rise and fall in popularity, never entirely in sync and consequently keeping us steadily entertained over the decades. So many narratives about the genre in print are decades out of date and/or act like barely anything past the sixties was worth making. This one's up-to-the-minute and gives the seismic influence of films like Cloverfield and Pacific Rim their due. I have my quibbles (last-minute re-records accidentally omitted GAMERA -Rebirth-; the original Mothra deserved more attention), but I acknowledge the amount of works covered here is staggering and every fan would tell this story a little bit differently. Highly recommended.
IDW's biggest Godzilla comic ever is coming in May, a one-shot anthology called Godzilla: 70th Anniversary. It'll have nine stories over 100 pages, with the writers including Joëlle Jones, Michael W. Conrad, Matt Frank, James Stokoe, Adam Gorham, and Dan DiDio. (Some of these folks will presumably be illustrating their comics as well.) The solicitation doesn't offer many plot hints, given that scope: "From the American Old West to modern Tokyo and beyond, this collection features stories of the King of the Monsters fighting with its allies like Mothra, against old enemies like the terrible Mechagodzilla, and reshaping the lives of all who fall in its path!" I'm surprised they're not waiting until November—hopefully it doesn't get delayed into November.
Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire will now release in the U.S. two weeks early—March 29. It's taking the place of Bong Joon-ho's Mickey 17, which is now undated. I can hardly complain about being able to see it earlier, though the move comes with some risk, as it's now opening the week after Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.
SRS Cinema has opened preorders for their Yuzo the Biggest Battle in Tokyo Blu-ray. Or is it Yuzo: The Biggest Battle on Tokyo? That's what the product page says, but on the cover the title's unchanged. Oh, SRS. Anyway, bonus features are scant: just trailers and something called "A Brief Introduction To Ishii Yoshikazu."
youtube
Here's the teaser trailer for Volcanodon, a short film from Taiwan's Creator Union of Tokusatsu. They're aiming to have it uploaded to YouTube sometime this year, and I'll happily watch it. Obviously low-budget, but it's well-shot and it's nice to see a kaiju movie outside of Japan go all-in on practical effects.
#kaiju week in review#kaiju#godzilla#monarch legacy of monsters#volcanodon#yuzo the biggest battle in tokyo#godzilla x kong the new empire#idw
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
tuesday again 1/23/2024
listen i got my last job through one of youse on here so weirder things have happened: i got fired bc the nonprofit wasn’t doing so hot. let me know if you have a weird data/database or market/tech research job. i promise my worksona is so so so nice and pleasant to work with. remote only, looking more in the $75k range but can be a bit flexible if it’s a cool enough job, i am in the central time zone of the USA and will not need sponsorship anywhere but DO need the cadillac of healthcare and dental plans. portfolio, publication list, and linkedin with my government name available on request!
listening
both of these are from my sister! this is another FULL ALBUM rec (good lord). The Offline’s album La couleur de la mer is a soundtrack to a movie that doesn’t exist, inspired by his long walks in the fog on the French Atlantic coast. a little spacey, a little soul, very sixties/seventies neonoir. i am quite fond of the very first track, Thème de la couleur de la mer.
she’s also sent me a bunch of tiktoks with Perfect (Exceeder) by Mason and Princess Superstar. hell of a goddamn music video for this thing. mid-aughts clubbing music at its finest. stopped me from dissolving into a puddle of emotions on the way to and from the vet today bc it’s too goddamn bouncy to be sad around
youtube
reading
im reading a trilogy i want to discuss as a whole whenever the third one comes through as a library hold, and a book by a friend. i do not typically talk about books or fics by friends here bc none of them have ever asked for critique, and i dont want to play favorites or inadvertently miss someone’s work. so here’s a story about porn on Wikimedia, which is the kind of database drama and technical arguments that fascinate me.
given the number of articles from 404 Media i shout about here and elsewhere i really should sign up for their $5/mo subscription tier when i have a steady income again
watching
somehow missed Star Wars Visions 2, their second anthology of weird little shorts. i was not super impressed by the overall storytelling this time around, but it was fun to see them reach out to more global studios and see a wider range of styles. there’s some goddamn incredible stop motion in here.
youtube
i particularly enjoyed Journey to the Dark Head, which not only has some interesting fringe Force believers and beliefs but has one of the sickest anime bullshit lightsaber fights in this season. this one is by Studio Mir, most known for the Legend of Korra.
youtube
also really liked The Spy Dancer by Studio La Cachette, partly bc it’s incredibly beautiful and i like when Star Wars leans into art nouveau, and partly bc it felt the most like a complete short story. emotional arc and everything! strong beginning middle and end! this IS a really low bar, but a lot of the shorts this season did not have a coherent little story to tell or a strong emotional arc, or fumbled their arc partway through, and were just kind of vibes and animation showcases? nothing necessarily wrong with that, also how i felt about most of the last collection. my expectations are underground for any Star Wars media.
playing
as is tradition i dithered about this section the most. this is more of a What’s Next? planning ramble.
the laptop gets shipped back to my old job today so i will no longer have a working modern computer. i have to dig the switch out and see what’s up. maybe start a whole new run in breath of the wild or whatever the last pokemon game was. i think i also have the sword boyfriend game everyone was up in arms about two years ago? and i think i am somehow part of a switch family plan that lets me have some older games?
this section may look very different in the next ??? amount of time until i get a company laptop again. or finally replace the motherboard on my personal desktop but that sat in my car for several weeks during the heat wave this summer while i did not have an apartment and i am really REALLY afraid to open that box.
oh the free epic game this week is a platformer, a genre i have historically not cared about. godspeed to those of you who do
making
soup bc aldi had alphabet pasta and that jolted me out of myself for long enough i was briefly convinced making alphabet pasta soup would fix me. so i found this recipe while in aldi. despite this not being a very good soup or a very good recipe, i feel a little triumphant bc i now know enough to brown the tomato paste before putting it in the soup. unfortunately i overcooked the pasta. there’s kind of a lot of texture happening here, and i wish i had chopped things finer, but i will probably steal my best friend’s blender tomorrow and blitz some of it down.
it’s edible. im going to eat it all. it will not be going in the rotation
#this one has another album rec and a recipe#what am i becoming#this is also a little bit. Hm. feels weird to write bc i am a little drunk and very out of it#tuesday again#tuesday again no problem#Youtube
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, I've been summoned to Tumblr by cute Satra and Lei fan art, so I should probably introduce myself and my books.
Hello! I'm Vale, and I write creature fantasy as K. Vale Nagle. If you like interesting gryphons, you're in the right place: aquatic diving petrel/fishing cat gryphons, poisonous hooded pitohui/tiger gryphons, pretty gyrfalcon/snow leopard gryphons, intimidating Haast's eagle/saber-toothed tiger gryphons, soggy sandgrouse/sand cat gryphons, and a lot more.
My series are epic fantasy using mostly real (though sometimes extinct) animals, free of humans but full of queer characters, intrigue, large battles, and ecological apocalypses.
My cover art is by Jeff Brown, with interior graphite pieces by Brenda Lyons and gryphon chapter headers by Kittrel (whose chibi hearts you may have seen).
I also have a short story collection (best read anytime after Starling, book three) with a beak-cute lesbian gryphon love story with terror birds, a Gryphon vs. Nature blizzard apocalypse tale, a Christmas-y story, and something pretty close to zombies. I've also written a full novel set in the world of Dire by John Bailey called Coldbright which can be found in the Tales of Feathers & Flames anthology. If you like GryphIns but you want something with more mystery, almost horror, as told through the eyes of a snarky little opinicus and his dire gryphon ex-boyfriend, it's a great read this time of year.
I love and appreciate all the fan mail, fan fiction, fan letters, and people reaching out about this series. I'm a little slow replying, as I started writing the series right after getting diagnosed with a catastrophic autoimmune system. The treatments are pretty intense, and it's easiest for me to spend my time and energy writing. I used to have a few pen names across several genres, but for the most part, all of my energy goes into finishing up GryphIns.
I'm married to dragon author Glenn Birmingham, so if you've seen us posting pictures of our cats and thought it's strange they share a name, they're the same cats.
And that's about it. Just a queer author writing gryphony books when I'm not walking my cat.
A few common answers to questions:
Q: There are sometimes typos in social media, why is that?
A: Catastrophic APS means I've had a stroke (and associated memory loss), so when a copy editor isn't coming up behind me, there'll be doubled words and typos from time-to-time. I used to worry about them, since they don't look good if you're an author! But I'd rather reply to fan letters and kind posts. I think if you've read my author notes at the back of my books, you know to expect a few doubled words here and there.
Q: When you say a queer author, what do you mean?
A: Since people ask about own voices and I have a lot of lgbtqia+ characters in my books, I'm pan, demi, trans, and genderfluid. I'm lucky enough to have a lot of queer friends and first readers who make sure I don't mess up any characters.
Q: When's the next GryphIns novel coming out?
A: Some years, I spend a lot of my time fighting health insurance battles, and it slows me down. Pridelord (#8) is currently in line edits. It's twice as long as Eyrie and three times as long as Coldbright, so it's a pretty big book! It shouldn't be too much longer. You'll know it's just about time because you'll hear James Scott Spaid talk about narrating the audiobook.
Q: How many books will there be in GryphIns?
A: I'm famous for underestimating how many books it takes to finish a series. My other pen names all wrote short stories and standalone novels, so my proposal for GryphIns originally had five books. Jeff Brown is wrapping up the cover for Saberbeak (#9) and Nighthaunt (#10). If I end up needing one more book to finish, though, don't be too surprised.
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
DECEMBER 2023 (Part 1)
Last year I wrote a three-part year-in-review that was a fun way to summarize the year for others and also remind myself of everything I set in motion after returning to comics after a break. Here's 2023's look back at a year of writing comics:
Pulp Literature
Issue 37 of Pulp Literature included "A Cold Place Between the Shores" by me and @ohotnig, a sci-fi story in which the killing of a bear causes tension that may lead to war unless a lieutenant and a bear can negotiate peace. The story was published in black and white (as was "Forgive My Delay" which was published in issue 36), but the story appears in color in my collection A Cold Place Between the Shores (more on the collection below).
● “A Cold Place Between the Shores”
● “Forgive My Delay"
▼ A page from “A Cold Place Between the Shores” by Artyom Trakhanov▼
Last Chance to Find Duke
Shang Zhang’s Last Chance to Find Duke, which I edited, was published by @peowstudio at the end of 2022 and quickly sold out; it was reprinted this year but sold out again. It was selected as one of the Beat’s 30 Best Comics of 2022 and was also nominated for an Ignatz Award for ‘Outstanding Graphic Novel’. Hopefully it'll be reprinted again soon!
▼ Last Chance to Find Duke by Shang Zhang ▼
A Column of Ashes
Book of Fuligin, an anthology inspired by the work of Gene Wolfe, which includes the sci-fi/horror story "A Column of Ashes" by me and H. Berlin, was successfully crowdfunded and will, after a few delays, hopefully be published early next year (as is the case with the similarly delayed After the End, which includes the story "Lápida" by me and Tim Fischer).
● "A Column of Ashes"
● "Lápida"
▼ A panel from "A Column of Ashes" by H. Berlin▼
A Cold Place Between the Shores
I reprinted A Cold Place Between the Shores, my self-published collection of three short stories: the titular story illustrated by @ohotnig; "The Tea House" illustrated by @lemlemur; "Dafina" illustrated by @davidaguado142. I redesigned the cover of the reprint and added a few pages of sketches and concept art for each story.
The collection is now distributed by Strangers in the US and is otherwise available directly from me.
● “A Cold Place Between the Shores”
● “The Tea House”
● “Dafina”
▼ The cover of A Cold Place Between the Shores by David Aguado▼
▼ The back cover of A Cold Place Between the Shores by Artyom Trakhanov▼
Part 2
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Disability in Books: Spooky Edition! #1
[ID: A poster reading "Disability in Books: Spooky Edition" in black writing in the centre. A small, circular logo is in the top right corner. It is red with an open book in the middle, white leaves around the book, and the word "The Disability Archive" across the bottom. In the lower left corner, cartoonish clipart of a smiling Jack O Lantern, wearing a large pointy hat with a buckle. All of this is overlayed onto the disability pride flag. /end]
[ID: The same poster, edited. The writing has been removed and replaced by three book covers, with bulleted lists next to each. The images in both corners have been shrunken slightly. The book covers, from top to bottom, are:
"Bath Haus" by P. J. Vernon
The phrases "Addiction", "Adult", "Thriller, Mystery, Contemporary, Horror" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black writing.
"Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything" by Justine Pucella Winans
The phrases "Anxiety", "Young Adult", "Thriller, Mystery, Contemporary" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black.
"Deathless Divide" by Justina Ireland
The phrases "Amputee", "Young Adult", "Horror, Historical", "Zombies" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black. /end]
[ID: The same poster, with three different book covers. The book covers, from top to bottom, are:
"Defying Doomsday" edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench
The phrases "Numerous Disabilities", "Young Adult", "Science Fiction, Apocalyptic" and "Short Story Anthology" are listed next to it in black.
"Even If We Break" by Marieke Nijkamp
The phrases "Autism", "Young Adult", "Thriller, Mystery, Contemporary, Horror" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black.
"The Final Girl Support Group" by Grady Hendrix
The phrases "Wheelchair User", "Adult", "Horror" and "Horror Movies" are listed next to it in black. /end]
[ID: The same poster, with three different book covers. The book covers, from top to bottom, are:
"Gideon the Ninth" by Tamsyn Muir
The phrases "Terminal Illness", "Adult", "Fantasy, Horror, Science Fiction" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black.
"Highway Bodies" by Alison Evans
The phrases "Anxiety, Facial Scarring, Amputation", "Young Adult", "Horror, Dystopia", "Zombies" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black.
"Into the Drowning Deep" by Mira Grant
The phrases "Hearing Impairment, Autism, Physical Disability", "Adult", "Horror, Science Fiction", "Mermaids" and "LGBTQ+" are listed next to it in black. /end]
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 [10 Smiling Carved Pumpkin Emojis]
A collection of fiction books featuring disabled characters, across the horror, thriller, mystery and science fiction genres!
As it is Spooky Season, and the build-up to my favourite holiday of the year, I figured I'd do something to get into the spirit of it all.
(Get it? "Spirit". Hehehe)
Also, having read Gideon the Ninth myself, I can see why people might think the representation of terminal illness is a little iffy.
If you want more information on the disabilities in 'Defying Doomsday', check out @cannondisabledcharacters.
Book List:
'Bath Haus' by P. J. Vernon- Addiction
'Bianca Torre is Afraid of Everything' by Justine Pucella Winans- Anxiety
'Deathless Divide' by Justina Ireland- Amputee
'Defying Doomsday' edited by Tsana Dolichva and Holly Kench- Numerous
'Even If We Break' by Marieke Nijkamp- Autism
'The Final Girl Support Group' by Grady Hendrix- Wheelchair User
'Gideon the Ninth' by Tamsyn Muir- Terminal Illness
'Highway Bodies' by Alison Evans- Anxiety, Facial Scarring, Amputation
'Into the Drowning Deep' by Mira Grant- Hearing Impairment, Autism, Physical Disability
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 [10 Smiling Carved Pumpkin Emojis]
#books#spooky month#disability#disability books#book list#horror#thriller#mystery#science fiction#disability literature#disability representation#booklr#disabled characters#resources#disability resources#book resources#part 1#images#image descriptions#alt text#long post#halloween#caps
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writeblr Intro ✨
Greetings! I am Elias, also known as Isa (they/he). I’m a disabled, neuroqueer writer of disabled, neuroqueer stories. I’d love to meet more writers, and I’m always happy to join tag games and receive asks.
Fantasy is my first and favourite genre, but I have also written contemporary fiction, sci-fi, and romance—and who knows what genres I will feel inspired to write next. I’m not picky about age groups either and write MG, YA and adult stories. I write in both Dutch (my native language) and English, depending on how the story comes to me.
Published work
Wandering Stars, in Changelings: An Autistic Trans Anthology. A hopeful YA sci-fi/dystopian short story.
More about my WIPs under the cut!
WIPs
All of these titles are mostly unserious working titles because I usually only come up with an actually good title near the end of the story (and I also like keeping that a secret 🤫).
Currently working on:
Enby Witch Kid, a middle grade portal fantasy about a 12 year old kid who uses a spell to travel to a different world; drawing from my experience of being autistic and queer but only understanding it as ‘not fitting in’, and dreaming of escaping to a magical world
Nameless Romance, a t4t, autistic 4 autistic, ace 4 ace new adult romance novella about finding your own identity outside of society’s (and specifically parents’) expectations
Wankele machten (Unstable Powers), a fantasy adventure full of morally questionable characters I’m co-writing with my brother, in Dutch; it’s based on backstory for our DnD campaign
On pause:
Labyrinth, a multi-POV YA portal fantasy set in the same universe as Enby Witch Kid; I finished a first draft of this a few years ago, but I’ve since changed my mind about a lot of things and basically need to re-write the whole thing; and it makes more sense to publish my middle grade in this setting first, anyway
Ik wil alleen maar zwemmen/Ik ben Kikker (I only want to swim/I am Frog), a YA contemporary with a nonbinary autistic protagonist about friendship, romance, figuring out your whole life when you’re 17/18, and swimming; these working titles are a song reference and a children’s book reference, respectively
I also have a lot more story ideas that are mostly just collections of notes or random scenes—a sapphic vampire story, genderqueer beauty & the beast, a darker fantasy story set in the Enby Witch Kid/Labyrinth universe, a sequel to Labyrinth… And that’s not even all of them! My brain is a whirlpool of unfinished stories.
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I'm really curious, what books/authors would you recommend to someone who's new to writing horror?
Hi! Here is what I have on hand (minus my loaned out copies of my favorite book ever Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones and Never Whistle At Night: an indigenous anthology of dark fiction which made me cry on an airplane and made the person next to me very uncomfortable, like she was just trying to build a cart at banana republic, apologies to seat 17B)
God’s Cruel Joke Lit Mag because I’m in them and will be in issue 4, too :) published either mid-January or February 2024– @labyrinthphanlivingafacade is in issue 3 with a great short story that I won’t spoil ***right now the magazines are available to purchase in physical copies but I was told all issues will be free to download as pdfs pretty soon!
Severance by Ling Ma (body horror but not in the way you think, the real horror is repetition and loneliness)
Wilder Girls by Rory Power (body horror)
The Female of the Species by Mindy McGinnis (adjacent the horror genre but a hell of a read)
ANYTHING BY STEPHAN GRAHAM JONES ANYTHING
We Have Always Lived in a Castle by Shirely Jackson (I read this for the first time last spring boy howdy, I also included The Lottery for its suspense)
Dean Koontz because my husband suggested it for the list— this was just the first title I grabbed, I think he said Patrician Crowell too but I was busy looking for Mongrels
A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans (I didn’t finish this because depression set in shortly after I started but the first chapter plays with second pov which I really liked, I’m determined to read it this year)
Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (I really enjoyed HBO’s adaptation)
The Girl With All The Gifts by M.R. Carey (likely the only zombie stories that made me weep uncontrollably)
Girls & Sex by Peggy Orenstein (non-fiction: explores modern young women navigating sexuality and because I have a thing for loss of autonomy— it’s been a few years since I read it but there is discussion of sexual assault, but I appreciate the expanse of her research and even included a conversation with someone who is asexual)
Black Leopard Red Wolf by Marlon James (got a chill just typing this out— the audio book is exquisite)
You’ll notice some nonfiction because, as a historian undergrad, nothing scares me more than man. The battles of Leningrad and Stalingrad are particularly stomach churning. America’s Reconstruction Era is full of acted out malice and under taught in my opinion.
An Indigenous People’s History of the United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz
The 900 Days, The Siege of Leningrad by Harrison E. Salisbury
Enemy at the Gates by William Craig
(On the other side of WW2 I have a book of the experiences of German solider’s left over from a paper I wrote on the inadequacy of Nazi uniforms and how it expedited their failure in Russia, Frontsoldaten by Stephen G. Fritz)
Stony the Road by Henry Louis Gates, Jr (one of my favorite authors, try finding “How Reconstruction Still Shapes American Racism” Time Magazine, April 2, 2019, I used it as a source for a paper on the history of voting rights)
Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers— folk tales of Canadians, Lumberjacks & Indians by Richard M. Dorson (published around 1952 but content collected from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in the 40’s)
Raven Tells Stories: An Anthology of Alaskan Native Writing (I’m Alutiiq and the museum on Kodiak has a lot of stories recorded under Alutiiq Museum Podcast— my kids and I listen on Spotify)
I think the genre of horror is really mastering tension and playing on peoples fears which is why I included old school folk stories (An Underground Education had a great write up on the Grimm Brothers and the original fairy tales from around the world such as the Chinese and Egyptian Cinderella, as well as several different sections of funny tales, torture techniques, absolute weirdos etc etc) in this vein of thought The Uses of Enchanment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales by Bruno Bettelheim could prove to be useful
If you’re writing a character with Bad Parents— Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents and Toxic Parents (it has a longer subtitle but I don’t see my copy anywhere) might be able to help you shape character traits
I reached out to @littleredwritingcat who has a mind plentiful in sources who recommended
The Gathering Dark: an anthology of folk horror (I will be picking this one up asap)
Toll by Cherie Priest (southern gothic)
Anything by Jennifer MacMahon
The Elementals by Michael McDowell
#book recommendations#answered#is that my ask box tag? I never get them and forget everytime lmao#I feel like I should have prefaced this with how I’m just dipping my toes into horror myself#so I’d love to hear what other people are reading too!!!!
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
New anthology of short stories by Black authors inspired by Cap Sam Wilson is coming out next year.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Meet Aether Beyond the Binary Contributors Em Rowntree and Kelas Lloyd
Today, we spotlight two more of the creators contributing to our current crowdfunding project Aether Beyond the Binary(a collection of 17 aetherpunk settings starring characters outside the gender binary): Em Rowntree and Kelas Lloyd!
Cadillac’s Bus by Em Rowntree
About Em: Em Rowntree’s first foray into the world of writing was with a story called The Magic Land that featured a unicorn and a flying carpet the size of a country, and they’ve been chasing that high ever since. They’ve been sharing their writing online for almost nine years, and have had poems and short stories published in anthologies. They live in the UK.
Links: Twitter
This is Em’s second contribution to a Duck Prints Press anthology; they also wrote a story for Add Magic to Taste.
Title: Cadillac’s Bus
Tags: pending
Excerpt:
From their vantage point, the kid couldn’t see the rally racer inside. Couldn’t see the black gloves with one white star of pure aetherlight painted on each fingertip. Couldn’t see the curled mess of long grey hair. Couldn’t see the steely, hungry, fiercely joyful look on their face as their vehicle plunged on through the moorland. But the kid could picture it all, down to the last detail.
They put their hands in the air.
“CADILLAC JONES!” they yelled, loud enough for the cow to hear them a few hundred yards away and lift its head – but nowhere near loud enough for Cadillac Jones themself to know their name was being screamed as they disappeared out of sight, away down the track. “CADILLAC JONES FOREVER! YES! THE BEST –” The kid turned to left and right as though looking for someone to tell, but there was no one beside them. “THE BEST! CADILLAC JONES FOREVER! YES!”
They stood, overwhelmed, keeping the moment alive as long as they could. A few minutes after the rally racer had turned the next corner and gone out of sight, another vehicle came hurtling round the bend after them. The kid lifted their arms again – and this time turned their open hands into raised middle fingers.
“YOU SUCK!” they screamed in delight, a smile of joy splitting their face.
True by Kelas Lloyd
About Kelas: Kelas is a disabled, trans, bi author and artist currently (unfortunately) living in Texas. They graduated from the University of Central Florida with an English degree and love cats, tea, and all things speculative fiction. A lot of their writing features magic or disability or both, and they’re often found in Star Trek, Mass Effect, Babylon 5, and Untamed spaces. You can also find them in a lot of bead and resin spaces, because they love making sparkly jewelry of all sorts.
Previously published pieces include an article on disability in The Last Of Us, short stories in two publications by Shacklebound Books, a pair of poems about being trans, an essay on disabled life, and a whole bunch of pieces about San Diego Comic-con. They’re single, an Ernie looking for their Bert, but they have a found family that stretches around the globe and some of their birth family accepts them for who they are.
You can find out more about them at kelaslloyd.com
Links: Personal Website | Archive of Our Own | Twitter
This is Kelas’s first time writing with Duck Prints Press.
Title: True
Tags: character study, foster family, found family, friends, genderfluid, magic use, non-binary, present tense, self-esteem issues, teenager, third person limited pov, transphobia (mentions of)
Excerpt:
“Oh,” Eva says, trying to recover. “Yeah, okay. So what’s the procedure? Are you gathering up all the ducklings and then herding us over?”
Paul looks at them as if they can see through the joking tone Eva’s adopted. “You’ve got a map in your booklet. I’m here, so I introduced myself, but there’s a schedule in there too. Everyone here is old enough to herd themselves; I’m here for support.”
“So you catch us in the trust-fall exercises,” Eva says, opening up the booklet to find the map and schedule.
“No, I make sure to drop everyone during those.”
Eva’s gaze snaps up to catch Paul’s grin just before it turns into a faint smile.
“You’re here because you’re struggling with aether,” Paul continues. “Most of the time a teen is struggling, it’s because they don’t know themselves well enough yet to let it flow through them the way as it’s supposed to. That’s what I help with.”
Make sure you visit our Kickstarter campaign page to learn about the collection, take a peek at the merchandise, read more excerpts, and more!
#aetherpunk#duck prints press#aether beyond the binary#nonbinary#nonbinary characters#nonbinary author#nonbinary anthology
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Deadline: June 30th, 2024
Payment: 6 cents per word and a contributor's copy
Theme: Cosmic Horror stories set in and around Arkham, Innsmouth, and other mythos related areas that take place in or are associated with Lovecraftian tales AND which feature a public or private institution of some sort
Dragon’s Roost Press is please to announce the open call for our next anthology. We have previously published collections of short stories which mix Lovecraftian Mythos with elements of Romance (Eldritch Embraces: Putting the Love Back in Lovecraft) and with Humor (LOLcraft: A Compendium of Eldritch Humor). This time instead of focusing on emotions, we want to look at setting. Specifically, we want to look at how different institutions have to deal with the eldritch abominations of Lovecraftian horror.
Arkham Institutions (tentative title) will feature 10 – 15 short stories focusing on the various aspects of government and business and their relationship with the oddness that creeps up in and around that most (in)famous New England Town.
What We Are Looking For
We want to see Cosmic Horror stories set in and around Arkham, Innsmouth, and other mythos related areas that take place in or are associated with Lovecraftian tales AND which feature a public or private institution of some sort. What does Arkham Elementary teach? What weird cases does law enforcement have to deal with? What kind of people are seen in the Emergency Room? The psych ward? The local library?
We are still looking for character driven stories, but make sure that these places are characters in their own rights. Draw us in and make us feel like we are there.
NOTE: We are not looking for stories set at Miskatonic University nor the Orne Library. There are plenty of stories with these settings. Give us something new.
What We Want
Original short stories, 3 – 5K words in length. While we have covered romance and humor in other anthologies, we don’t mind if these elements feature in your stories, so long as they scare us. Make sure we get that sense of cosmic dread. Humor and PG-13 rated spiciness are just fine. We are fine with gore, so long as it is not used as a replacement for plot. We do not require a happy ending. In fact, we kind of enjoy that hopeless bleakness.
What We Don’t Want
S.A./non-consensual sex, including minors in sexual situations, will not be accepted. We are not looking for sexually explicit material for this anthology. Consensual sex is OK, if germane to the story, but cut away before anything happens. Please, no tentacle porn.
Animal cruelty is not welcome here. You can kill as many kids as you want, but the dog better live.
Old Man Howard created a fascinating cosmology and left us a lovely sandbox to play in, but his problematic viewpoints have no place here. We saw Ferris Bueller’s Day Off at the drive-in during its original run and we live by the idea that “isms…are not good.”
All stories must be original works which you retain the rights to. Fan Fiction, Slash Fiction, and any other material containing characters which you did not create are not acceptable for this publication.
We don’t like being sued.
We are not looking for poetry, novellas, flash fiction, or artwork at this time.
The Nitty Gritty Stuff
The reading period will be from 1 May – 30 June OR UNTIL FILLED. All of our previous anthologies have closed early due to the number of submissions received, so don’t sit on your story. Get it to us ASAP.
That being said, make sure that your work is properly edited before you hit the send button. We don’t mind a little light editing, but an egregious number of spelling and grammatical errors will lead to a rejection.
Arkham Institutions is open to all. BIPOIC and LGBTQIA+ characters and authors are very welcome.
AI generated content is NOT welcome. A clause in the author contract will stipulate that the story was not created using AI. Violation of this clause will lead to a ban from this and any future Dragon’s Roost Press anthologies.
Submissions should be sent as attachments to [email protected] (note, this e-mail address is different from some previous submission calls).
The subject line should read Arkham Institutions/story title/author’s name (example Arkham Institutions/Really Cool Story/Doe).
E-mails which do not follow this format will be deleted unread. In the body of your e-mail, provide a short (500 words or less) biography.
Submissions should be sent as .doc, .docx, .odt, or .pages attachments.
Multiple submissions are OK, but please wait until you have received a response on your first piece before submitting your second. Simultaneous submissions: no.
We prefer Shunn Modern Manuscript Format (found https://www.shunn.net/format/story/), but any standard format is acceptable so long as you use the formatting tools in your word processing program. In other words, do not manually indent paragraphs using tabs or spaces.
Please convert your manuscript to Times New Roman before sending. We really, really hate Courier. You can write in whatever font you choose, but we want to read it in Times New Roman.
Payment will be $0.06/word (sent upon publication) plus one contributor’s copy in both paperback and digital formats. We will be running a Kickstarter campaign later in the year to help offset some of the production costs, but this will not affect payment or publication. As with our previous anthologies, a portion of the profits will be donated to the canine rescue organization Last Day Dog Rescue.
Primary publication will be via Amazon’s KDP POD service, but the title will be available through Ingram and Baker & Taylor. The book will be released in paperback and digital formats. Expected release date Oct 2024.
Note to New Authors: Most publications seek First North American Rights. While you may be able to sell your story again as a reprint, publication in this anthology may limit your story’s future marketability and may affect the amount of money you will be able to receive from other markets. Please take this into consideration before submitting.
Via: The Dragon Roost Press.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
December 2023 Books
AG Christmas stories: Addy's Surprise by Connie Porter; Samantha's Surprise by Maxine Rose Schur; Kirsten's Surprise by Janet Beeler Shaw; and Felicity's Surprise, Josefina's Surprise, Kit's Surprise, and Molly's Surprise by Valerie Tripp (reread)
Discussed elsewhere!
The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 7 by Beth Brower
I found this one more difficult to get through the most of the previous installments, mostly because it introduced a romance that does absolutely nothing for me.
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (reread)
Annual reread.
Silent Nights: Christmas Mysteries edited by Martin Edwards
I got this book mostly because it contains the Christmas mystery short stories that should be annual rereading and it's more convenient to bring along while traveling than separate anthologies. The Doyle, Chesterton, and Sayers stories are all old favorites, but the rest of the stories in the collection were less interesting--or it could have just been that I wasn't reading them at the right time.
Switching Well by Peni R. Griffin
A girl from the present day (...in the 1990s) is switched in time with a girl from 1890s San Antonio. I have a passing acquaintance with some of the places described, so that was fun.
The Eleventh Trade by Alyssa Hollingsworth
I was not expecting this story to rip my heart out the way it did.
Tenthragon by Constance Savery (reread)
I get a hankering for this one around Christmas for no particular reason, and it was so worth the reread.
Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend (reread)
I read this for the first time on a plane and it was magical and I was traveling last month and felt like this was exactly what I needed to read on the plane again.
Adam's Common by David Wiseman
A timeslip story of sorts? It was good. I have nothing intelligent to say about it.
Comics
Stephen McCranie's Space Boy Omnibus 1-3
I love this series. A lot more than I was expecting to, and I can't wait to get the next volume (yes, I know it's all online, but there's something about encountering it in physical book form). I love the complexity of the characters, and the plot twists are captivating.
Everything pertaining to Damage and the Ray (reread/skimmed)
You all know how I feel about my boys. There's a lot of analysis yet to come.
Everything pertaining to Triumph
Apparently this character was ridiculously unpopular, with everyone from the readership to DC staff, mainly because he threw off the Sacred Origins of the JLA and because he's an unlikeable jerk. Even his writer has described him as "the hero you love to hate." But I'm approaching this from a literary standpoint, and it's very clear that he's a superhero version of The Tragic Hero, and it works. I'm fascinated by the complexity that Priest gives him.
Really, guys, 1990s DC writers did not have to go that hard with their characterization but they did and I have so much respect for it.
13 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
