#omnipresent (maxwell)

[dailyenglishvoca]

Today's song is OMNIPRESENT by maxwell (maxwellthecreature) featuring the Synthesizer V voicebank Jun

[artisathingidoapperently]

maxwell jägerman is so holy trinity coded that grace chastity never stood a chance. man straight up declares he's a god and has the complex to match, when he died his peers were absolved and everyone could be friends (also he was impaled with a wooden beam, vaugely crucifixion) , and then rose as a ghost two weeks later. specifically a ghost who is intangible and omnipresent. he then fucked the virgin. am i insane

[dalesbianfoppishdandy]

trying to explain the absolutely batshit concept that @possumclawz and I just created. there's layers.

First we have an AU where Minkowski's call went through and Koudelka believed her. He raises a stink, it's a huge PR thing where most of Goddard management gets fired. Kepler immediately gets a message saying "hey, get back home, things are going really bad and we need to save face" and they eventually come back to earth before anyone dies.

When they get back the entire crew of the hephestus (including hera) are given generous pensions and cushy low-risk jobs in the same city as a "please don't talk to the press about how bad things are" deal. Hilbert goes back to whatever he was doing in Russia.

Kepler is ready to go back to business as usual but the SI-5 were also reported as dead and also were made. very public in the outcry and so theyre still employed but they get 0 actual missions, jacobi and maxwell are specialists so they're kind of treated as freelancers, but Kepler is put as their "handler" which basically just means he takes messages for them, which he *hates*

Hera and Eiffel buy a smart house with the exorbitant hush money Hera got, because I think she likes the "omnipresent ai who manages everything" part of her job as long as she also gets a physical human body she can leave the house in.

maxwell and jacobi live together in the world's most terrible apartment.

Kepler has a big fancy house in a neighborhood with an HOA and nobody comes to visit him which makes him so upset so he just devotes himself to seeming like he has hobbies.

Minkowski and Koudelka offer Lovelace a spare room at their house since she doesn't really have anywhere else to stay.

[plushee-cant-draw]

Didn't have motivation to work on uh. Nonstick art (Because it is 1:20 something and I should go to bed.)

So have a couple shitpost stick animal doodles without context.

And also rambling about insects. (It is a little long but there is a transcript)

(Btw uh don't trust me on calling the staffbearer Metheus and the Torchbearer Cyclum as Fuelweaver's quotes really heavily imply that he's the staffbearer.)

(I chose to ignore this completely because:)

(How did the fuelweaver get revived. If the fuelweaver was the torchbearer, then it'd make sense for staffbearer to try and resurrect them after their death and they knew how to animate skeletons already. But if that's staffbearer, did Maxwell or Charlie resurrect them?? Idk if any of the other ancients knew how to animate skeletons but Kiel only ever shows the staffbearer doing it. If Maxwell (Or even Charlie) did it. Why.)

(Also What does the M on the codex stand for. If the torchbearer was Metheus why would they write a journal on shadow magic when they seem to specialize in lunar magic (sorta). It doesn't stand for Maxwell since it's shown that the M has always been on there. It could be Magicae/Magic. But there's an ancient rune for that, so why an M and not the rune...)

(Also also. Why would They work with the torchbearer. Why would They put so much trust into someone who tried to murder them that they give them omnipresence and other god powers, instead of trying to re-recruit the staffbearer or something before they died (if they were fuelweaver))

(Kiel. Can you tell us. Anything about what happened. Please Kiel

(Also if there are obvious answers please tell me. I don't comprehend lobsters well sorry :<)

(Also bc of my au already having non-cannon compliant things. Why not make the torchbearer Cyclum and the staffbearer Metheus anyways lol.)

[glennriley49]

The Dead Sea Part 4

By Glenn Riley and Lady Eckland

Part Four: The Island of Lost Stars

The mood aboard The Ironclad following the disastrous reconnaissance of the Cyclops was poisonous. Fear, thick and suffocating as the omnipresent fog, permeated every timber, every iron plate. In Captain Thorne’s cabin, the air was heavy with the ghost of Master-at-Arms Riggs and the chilling implications of Abernathy’s report.

Davies, his face etched with grief and fury, stood stiffly, recounting the encounter. "...Riggs bought us time. Engaged it hand-to-hand while we retreated. Didn't stand a chance against those claws, Captain. Cut down before our eyes." He slammed a fist onto the table, making the lamp jump. "Damn that ship! Damn this whole cursed sea!"

Abernathy, pale and holding the recovered journal as if it were contaminated, elaborated. "The journal entries are unequivocal, Captain. The entity encountered within the Cyclops was once human. Eleanor Vance, travelling with her husband aboard the yacht Wanderer. The text describes a parasitic organism, encountered deep within the derelict, initiating a rapid, horrifying metamorphosis. It suggests a biological assimilation, rewriting the host physically and mentally." He shuddered. "The creature we fought… it was her, twisted into something monstrous, driven by alien hunger."

Dr. Maxwell, carefully tending to the ragged gash on Seaman Hawkins' arm in the corner, added his grim findings. "The wound is… unusual. There's minor necrosis around the edges, far quicker than typical infection. And the tissue samples under the microscope show… intrusions. Cellular structures I cannot identify, almost crystalline yet seemingly mobile. Whatever inflicted this wound left something behind. It's as if the creature itself is infectious." Hawkins groaned, feverish sweat beading on his brow.

Chaplain Hemlock, who had remained silent, spoke now, his voice low but resonant. "This place is not merely a physical trap, Captain. It is a crucible of corruption. The great beast in the fog consumes the flesh, but the lurking evils within these wrecks… they consume the soul, twisting God's creation into mockery. This is a layered Hell, each circle revealing deeper damnation."

Sutton, who had stood rigidly throughout the debriefing, spoke for the first time, his voice hoarse, devoid of its youthful tones, replaced by a chilling emptiness. "My brother… Finn… Evans… Riggs… Miller… How many more? This place doesn't just kill you. It changes you. Like that… woman. Are we all destined to become monsters here?"

Thorne surveyed his officers, his crew. The horror of the colossal entity below was now compounded by the terror of parasitic transformation from within the graveyard itself. Paranoia spread like the strange mould on the derelict ships. Men eyed each other suspiciously, flinched at shadows, avoided the darker corners of the ship. Discipline, already frayed, threatened to snap.

"Enough," Thorne’s voice cut through the despair, sharp and commanding. "Riggs died bravely, serving this ship. We will honour his memory by surviving. Dr. Maxwell, tend to Hawkins, isolate him if necessary. Mr. Abernathy, study that journal, study the slime samples, find anything that might offer a defense. Mr. Davies, maintain order, double the watches again. Chaplain, offer what comfort you can, but remind the men that duty prevails even in Hell."

His words were a fragile dam against the tide of fear, but before his orders could be fully absorbed, chaos erupted from above.

A sound like thunder cracked overhead, but born of impact, not storm. The entire ship shuddered violently, timbers screaming, iron groaning. Shouts of alarm echoed from the deck. Thorne and the others scrambled up the companionway ladder into a scene of terrifying destruction.

Emerging silently from the grey shroud, immense tentacles, thicker and darker than the one that had taken Miller, slammed down onto The Ironclad. One crushed a section of the starboard bulwark and railing, sending splinters and twisted metal flying. Another slammed onto the forecastle, narrowly missing a cannon crew, pulverizing the deck planks. Panic ensued. Men scattered, screaming, firing muskets wildly into the fog.

"Gunnery crews! Fire at will!" Thorne roared, drawing his sword, the situation demanding immediate, violent response. "Aim for the source! Load chain shot! Double charge!"

The cannons, already loaded, erupted with flame and smoke. Balls ripped into the fog. The chain shot, designed to shred sails and rigging, whirred invisibly into the grey, seeking a target. A deafening, guttural bellow answered them, a sound so deep and resonant it seemed to shake the very air, vibrating through the soles of their boots. It was a sound of pain, perhaps, but mostly of colossal, inhuman rage.

The tentacles momentarily recoiled, but the assault wasn't over. Suddenly, huge objects began hurtling out of the fog, thrown by unimaginable strength. A massive chunk of rock, trailing weed and slime, crashed onto the quarterdeck, obliterating the helm, sending the helmsman flying overboard in a spray of blood and shattered wood. Then came a section of rotten mast, thick as a man's body, torn from one of the nearby wrecks, landing amidships with devastating force, smashing through the deck and into the compartments below.

"Port battery, fire!" Davies bellowed, directing the gunners as another tentacle snaked over the side, probing blindly, seeking purchase or prey. Round shot slammed into its flank, leaving bleeding, puckering wounds that oozed the familiar cold slime, but it barely seemed to register the impacts.

"Concentrate fire!" Thorne yelled, pointing towards the area where the bellow had originated. The remaining cannons roared again and again, a desperate, continuous barrage into the unseen. They threw everything they had – round shot, grape shot, chain shot – into the swirling grey curtain.

Another agonized, furious bellow tore through the fog, closer this time. Then, slowly, the tentacles withdrew. The bombardment of debris ceased. The monstrous presence receded, leaving behind a scene of devastation.

The Ironclad was crippled. The helm was destroyed, the rudder linkage likely damaged. Sections of the deck were smashed open, the starboard bulwark mangled. At least one mast showed signs of serious strain from the impacts, its rigging frayed. Water poured through the hole amidships. Pumps were already working frantically, but the ship was taking on water, listing noticeably to starboard. Casualties were still being counted, but Thorne could see bodies lying still on the deck, others being tended by Maxwell and his mates.

They had survived the direct assault, driving the beast back with the sheer fury of their cannons. But it was a pyrrhic victory. They were damaged, adrift, taking on water, lost in a graveyard sea ruled by an enraged titan and populated by parasitic horrors. Despair, cold and absolute, threatened to finally overwhelm the remaining crew.

Days turned into an indistinguishable grey blur. The crew worked relentlessly, driven by the primal instinct for survival. Pumps clanked non-stop. Repair crews, under Davies’s tireless supervision, patched the hull as best they could with salvaged timber and metal plates scavenged from their own damaged sections. Abernathy, when not assisting with repairs, pored over the journal and slime samples, his brow furrowed in concentration, finding nothing useful. Chaplain Hemlock moved among the men, offering prayers that sounded increasingly hollow against the backdrop of constant fog and the groaning of the wounded ship. Sutton worked with a silent, obsessive intensity, his grief channelled into hard labour. Thorne projected an image of unwavering resolve, but inwardly, he grappled with dwindling hope. Their food was running low, fresh water strictly rationed, ammunition depleted.

They drifted deeper into the graveyard, the current pulling them slowly but inexorably onwards. The fog remained their constant companion, their prison wall. Then, after what felt like an eternity of grey despair, the lookout’s cry startled everyone.

"Land! Land ahead!"

Through a momentary thinning of the mist, they saw it – an island, rising starkly from the lifeless sea. Jagged peaks of black volcanic rock clawed at the sky, partially shrouded in ancient, blue-tinged glacial ice. But the lower slopes, particularly on one side, were free of ice, revealing barren, dark earth. And like morbid jewels scattered upon its shores and slopes, lay more shipwrecks, dozens of them, bleached and broken.

A flicker of hope ignited. Land. Solid ground. A chance, however slim, for more substantial repairs, perhaps even fresh water. Thorne ordered the remaining sails set, using makeshift steering with tackles attached directly to the damaged rudder post, coaxing the crippled Ironclad towards the island.

He chose a small cove on the thawed side, sheltered from the open sea, where several ancient wrecks lay half-buried in the black sand. With painstaking effort, they nudged the wounded warship as close inland as they dared, dropping anchors that thankfully found purchase. The silence of the island felt different from the silence of the sea – heavier, more watchful.

"Mr. Davies," Thorne ordered, once the ship was secured. "Organise shore parties. We need water, first and foremost. And materials. Strip those wrecks on the beach for anything usable – timber, iron, canvas. Establish a defensive perimeter. We don't know what awaits us here."

Repair crews immediately set to work on the Ironclad's hull, benefiting from the relative stability and the promise of salvaged materials. Exploration parties fanned out cautiously along the shoreline, searching for streams or pools. The island was unnervingly desolate. No birds wheeled overhead, no insects buzzed in the damp air, no vegetation grew beyond patches of hardy, blackish moss clinging to the rocks and the ubiquitous, pale fungi seen throughout the graveyard. Skeletal remains, some recognizably animal, others disturbingly unidentifiable, lay scattered among the rocks.

Thorne decided a deeper reconnaissance was necessary. "Mr. Abernathy," he called. "Assemble a small party. Yourself, Mr. Davies, Sutton, Chaplain Hemlock for morale, Dr. Maxwell – I want your assessment of any biologicals – and four dependable men. Armed. Scout inland. Look for water sources away from the shore, assess the island's extent, and identify any potential threats. Stay alert. We know what horrors this sea can breed."

The party set off, moving inland from the cove. The terrain was rugged, sharp volcanic rock making footing difficult. They climbed slopes littered with the bones of ships and creatures, the silence broken only by the crunch of their boots and the low sigh of the wind moving through the jagged peaks above. The air was cold, clean, but carried a faint, metallic tang beneath the smell of brine and decay.

They found no fresh water near the coast. Following a dry, ancient riverbed upwards, they moved deeper into the island's barren interior. The landscape grew stranger, the rock formations more contorted. After several hours of difficult hiking, they crested a ridge and looked down into a hidden valley, a sort of natural crater shielded from the sea. And nestled within it, half-buried by rockfall from one side, lay the most bizarre wreck they had encountered yet.

It was unmistakably a vessel, but utterly alien. It bore no resemblance to any ship, whether from their time or the ancient past, nor even the futuristic strangeness of the Cyclops. Its hull was a seamless, flowing structure of a material that shimmered faintly with iridescent colours, even in the dull grey light. It lacked discernible decks, windows, or propulsion systems. Its shape was partly organic, partly geometric, suggesting principles of design beyond human comprehension. It had clearly crashed, violently, impacting the crater wall and embedding itself deep into the rock and earth. Strange, twisted spars of the same iridescent metal lay scattered around it.

"Good Lord," Abernathy breathed, raising his spyglass. "This… this is not of Earth. It cannot be."

Davies gripped his cutlass tighter. "Fell from the sky? Like a meteor?"

"A constructed vessel, Davies," Abernathy insisted, his voice filled with awe and trepidation. "Look at the lines, the structure… it’s technology, but unlike anything imaginable. A starship?" The word sounded absurd, yet unavoidable.

Chaplain Hemlock made the sign of the cross. "Fallen angels? Or something… else?"

Sutton stared, his expression unreadable. Maxwell simply looked baffled, shaking his head.

Curiosity and the desperate need for answers outweighed their fear. Thorne's orders were to investigate anything unusual. Cautiously, they descended into the crater towards the silent, alien wreck. Finding an entry point was difficult; the seamless hull offered few openings. They eventually located a jagged tear near the impact zone, where the strange metal had been ripped open like fabric.

Davies took point, peering into the darkness within, lantern held high. "Smells… strange. Like ozone, and… cinnamon?" He climbed inside, followed by the others.

The interior was even more disorienting than the exterior. Corridors curved at unnatural angles, defying Euclidean geometry. The walls glowed with a soft, internal light, shifting in slow patterns. Panels covered in intricate, unreadable symbols pulsed faintly. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the deck beneath their feet, despite the obvious crash damage. Gravity felt subtly lighter, their movements slightly floaty.

They moved cautiously, weapons ready, overwhelmed by the sheer alienness of it all. They found chambers filled with bizarre, incomprehensible machinery, some rooms lined with pods containing viscous fluids, others seemingly dedicated to the observation of swirling star fields projected onto curved walls.

Then, they found the crew.

In what might have been a control room or bridge, dominated by vast, dark viewing screens and chairs moulded into strange shapes, lay several bodies. They were desiccated, ancient-looking, yet clearly non-human. Tall, thin, with multiple limbs, their bodies were encased in a dark, chitinous exoskeleton. Their heads were elongated, dominated by huge, multifaceted eyes like those of insects. Their limbs ended in delicate, three-fingered claws. They lay slumped over consoles or sprawled on the floor, seemingly victims of the crash centuries, perhaps millennia, ago.

"Incredible," Maxwell whispered, kneeling beside one, careful not to touch. "Insectoid… yet clearly intelligent. Tool users."

Abernathy examined the symbols on a nearby console. "Their science… their understanding of the universe… it must have been staggering."

As they absorbed the shock of discovering extraterrestrial life, a subtle wrongness intruded. A flicker of movement caught Sutton’s eye in the periphery. He spun around. Nothing. Davies frowned, sensing something amiss. A low hum near Abernathy suddenly cut out. A small, metallic tool lying on a console clattered inexplicably to the floor.

"Did you see that?" one of the sailors whispered, aiming his musket into the shadows.

"Stay sharp," Davies ordered, his instincts screaming danger. "Something’s here."

Abernathy, examining the air near where the tool had fallen, noticed a faint distortion, like heat haze on a summer road. "Light… it's bending. Refracting around something…"

Before he could finish, the sailor who had whispered cried out, a choked gurgle. He collapsed backwards, clutching his throat, where a perfectly circular, cauterized hole had appeared, smoking slightly. Chaos erupted.

"Take cover!" Davies yelled, shoving Abernathy behind a console.

Another sailor screamed, stumbling back as a shimmering line of intense heat sliced through his musket barrel and continued into his chest. He fell, smoke rising from the wound.

"It's invisible!" Sutton shouted, firing his pistol wildly into the area where the attacks originated. The shot hit nothing but a glowing wall panel, which sparked and went dark.

Chaplain Hemlock began reciting the Lord's Prayer, his voice trembling but loud, a beacon of familiar faith in the alien nightmare. Davies and the remaining two sailors fired muskets into the air, hoping to hit something, anything.

Suddenly, Sutton, remembering the Cyclops creature appearing from nowhere, grabbed a pouch of spare gunpowder from his belt. With a roar, he flung its contents high into the air near where the attacks seemed to be coming from.

The fine black powder momentarily clung to a shape – a tall, humanoid silhouette, shimmering, indistinct, but definitely there. It seemed startled by the revelation, pausing its attack.

"There!" Davies roared. He fired his pistol, aiming centre mass of the powder-dusted outline. The shape convulsed violently. Abernathy saw the light-bending effect flicker and fail in patches, revealing glimpses of smooth, grey skin or perhaps armour, and a complex optical device mounted where a head should be.

The creature, partially visible now as a shimmering, distorted figure, raised an arm, pointing a slender, metallic weapon. Before it could fire, Sutton charged, tackling it low. They crashed to the floor. The cloaking effect failed completely as Sutton wrestled with the unseen limb holding the weapon. The creature was humanoid, but unnaturally thin and tall, clad in tight-fitting grey material, its face obscured by the complex optical mask. It hissed, a sound like escaping steam, and tried to bring another weapon, a short blade that flickered with energy, to bear.

Davies and the remaining sailors jumped in, cutlasses and pistols finding purchase now that the creature was visible and entangled. The fight was short, brutal, and desperate. The alien was strong and fast, but outnumbered and already wounded. A final pistol shot from Davies at point-blank range ended the struggle. The creature convulsed and lay still, its optical mask shattering, revealing a face surprisingly similar to the insectoid corpses, but less desiccated, clearly the lone survivor of the crash.

Silence fell, broken only by ragged breathing and Hemlock’s concluding "Amen." Two more men lay dead, victims of an invisible hunter from the stars. Maxwell rushed to check them, but it was futile.

Abernathy knelt beside the dead alien, examining its cloaking device, integrated into its suit. "Incredible… it bends light around itself. Perfect camouflage."

Davies nudged the energy weapon with his boot. "Nearly perfect."

Their attention was drawn to where the creature had made its stand. It seemed to have been positioned near a specific console, one that was still partially active, displaying a complex, shifting pattern of lights and symbols. Set into the console was a recess, and nestled within it, humming faintly and emitting a soft blue glow, was a crystalline device, roughly the size of a human fist, covered in the same alien script. It pulsed with contained energy.

Abernathy approached it cautiously. Unlike the rest of the dead ship, this device felt… alive. The symbols swirling across its surface seemed to shift and resolve into patterns that vaguely resembled star charts, constellations utterly unfamiliar, yet undeniably celestial. Energy readings spiked and flowed across the console connected to it.

"What is it?" Davies asked, keeping his pistol trained on it warily.

"I don't know," Abernathy admitted, mesmerized. "A power source? A navigational computer? Both?" He reached out tentatively. "The energy signature… the patterns… they suggest control over spatial coordinates, perhaps even temporal ones given where we are." He looked back at Davies, his eyes alight with a terrifying, desperate hope. "This technology… it's beyond comprehension. But if anything in this gods-forsaken place holds the key to escaping, to finding our way home…"

He gestured towards the glowing crystal. "...It might be this."

The survivors of the shore party stood in the eerie silence of the crashed starship, surrounded by the dead – their own comrades, the ancient insectoid crew, and the invisible hunter. They had faced another impossible horror and prevailed, at great cost. Now, clutching a piece of inscrutable alien technology, they faced the daunting task of returning to their crippled ship, bringing news of wonders and terrors beyond human understanding, and carrying the slimmest, most alien fragment of hope they had encountered since sailing into the fog.

[wickedlvst]

"maybe not, but you'll only get my sloppy seconds now if at all", harriet responded, "watching us might be your best chance of being with him at this point and i so generously offered it to you. you could simply say thank you, you know." to be perfectly honest, the sex with maxwell was great but nothing in the world could ever beat winning against theodore like this, of knowing she had something he could never have. "are you really trying to slutshame me right now, teddy?" the redhead scoffed, feigned hurt written all across her facial features. "but don't worry about me, he'll be so coming back for more, photos or not." she paused, the seemingly omnipresent smirk returning to red-colored lips. "once you've gotten a taste of this pussy and my excellent blowjob skills, you don't just go back to sad, pathetic wannabes. or the cute little handjob you might want to give him." she paused as she took a step closer, close enough her petite body was almost brushing against this, head tilted back so that she could look straight into his eyes. "i mean i'd offer to give you a taste, but i don't blow losers. sorry, babe." manicured fingernail brushed over his collar bone, touch casual, as if she had every right to it. "we could also just ask him, though. or are you scared of just another refusal?"

did he have genuine feelings for maxwell? or had he just been brainwashed by the ( now obviously true ) rumors that he had a big dick? it was difficult to say, and not made any easier by harriet's examination of her own artfully taken nudes — so casually calculated with every motion and word, it made theodore sick. jealousy was throbbing through him like the worst hangover of his life, not giving the phone a second glance as he snatched it back and scoffed, "you're not gonna cuck me, harriet." but. . . hadn't she already? she'd staked her claim, had her way with max first, and now theodore would be lucky if he got the sloppy seconds. he hated how much he was still interested — that he still wanted max, and in a new, worse way : he wanted him right in front of harriet. exactly what she was proposing, but swap their positions. he was desperate for the bragging rights. "do you actually think he'll give you the time of day once he realizes you sent those photos out?" it was a bluff, delivered with blind confidence. what the fuck did theodore know about max's feelings on exhibitionism? he tsk'd softly, arms crossing over his chest as he pretended to have the higher ground. "you're a total and complete hump and dump. but don't worry, i'll make sure we set aside some time during our next study sesh to laugh about it."

[featherquillpen]

Books I Read in 2021: Science Fiction & Fantasy Edition

This post got long, so my most favorite books are bolded. Any books I started to read and didn't like are omitted from the list, so all of them have something to recommend them, in my opinion. For the record, if a book is on this list, rest assured that the main character is LGBTQIA (except Planet of Exile, which was, after all, written in 1966.)

Spellhacker by M.K. England

A fun little action fantasy romp, but nothing groundbreaking.

Foundryside and Shorefall by Robert Jackson Bennett

This series is fantastic, especially in worldbuilding and magic system. It's a form of magic that's heavily based on programming, with equivalents of if/then logic, software libraries, and server stacks. And the main character is a thief who does magic heists. What's not to love?

Sing for the Coming of the Longest Night by Katherine Fabian and Iona Datt Sharma

A magical little mystery with an incredibly relatable cast of characters. The two main characters are metamours whose mutual boyfriend goes missing, and they team up to rescue him. Every character in this book felt like someone I've dated or had drinks with.

Dreadnought by April Daniels

A book about a trans woman superhero. It was very color-by-numbers standard superhero stuff, and I really only enjoy this genre if it does some serious trope subversion. Which brings me to...

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

HIGHLY recommend this book, the most subversive superhero book I've read yet (and I've read a lot of trope-flipping superhero fiction.) The main character is a henchwoman working in the gig economy on temp contracts with supervillains, and her superpower is her accounting and mastery of spreadsheets. If this doesn't make you want to read it immediately, I fundamentally do not understand you as a person.

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

Sarah Gailey always has really interesting worldbuilding, and then populates these cool worlds with plots and character arcs about as subtle as a brick to the head. I will continue to keep an eye on their work, as I feel it has a lot of promise, even though it's not quite there yet.

The Empress of Salt and Fortune and When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo

Nghi Vo is an astonishing new voice in fantasy. She communicates a very strong sense of place in the Singing Hills Cycle, a series of histories and folktales that evoke all the ambience of a Chinese period drama.

Exit Strategy, Network Effect, and Fugitive Telemetry by Martha Wells

We all know by now that Murderbot Diaries is amazing, right? If you haven't read it yet, just do it. I particularly enjoyed Network Effect because it had ART in it and Murderbot&ART is my OTP.

Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell

The romance was fairly standard fanfic fare, enjoyable enough. The worldbuilding had holes you could drive a truck through, as far as the space empire was concerned. The gender-related worldbuilding was quite nice, though.

Planet of Exile by Ursula K. LeGuin

No work of LeGuin's, especially in the Hainish Cycle, can be considered bad, though this is one of her earliest novels and it shows. Her omnipresent themes of cultural difference, gender, and the terrible price of violence are here, but still finding their feet.

Persephone Station by Stina Leicht

This book had promise - the whole premise of the found family of tough mercenary ladies was definitely appealing - but the execution was rather poor, with thin and shaky sci-fi worldbuilding. Hopefully Stina Leicht will do better in future books.

A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine

A worthy follow-up to A Memory Called Empire, with some new sci-fi elements that felt like they were written for my interests specifically. Really enjoyed the Stanislav Petrov theme. I did feel like the anti-imperialist critique was not as powerful as it could have been, which was frustrating.

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

I'm so glad I gave Roanhorse another chance after I read her previous work and didn't care for it. Black Sun is fantasy set in pre-Columbian Mesoamerica, with totally fresh and fascinating worldbuilding. I hope this book is vanguard to a wave of Indigenous voices in high fantasy, because this story felt epic and mythical in a whole new way.

Where I End and You Begin by Preston Norton

This book made me laugh in pure delight all the way through. It's a YA comedy about two high school frenemies who suddenly start body-swapping at random, and it's every bit as awkward and wacky and ridiculous as you could hope for.

The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

Set in the same universe as The Goblin Emperor, this book had the same quiet feeling of tight focus on one man who just wants to be kind in a cruel world. I enjoyed it, but Addison has to give me some non-tragic gays next book or I will riot.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by K.J. Charles

Not K.J. Charles' best work, but even a mediocre K.J. Charles is miles better than a romance by almost any other author. The book is very, very horny, more so than most of her work, but resolves in a sweet and homey way.

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho

So this was my very first wuxia/xianxia (Chinese historical fantasy genres) novel, and it got me absolutely hooked. This book was written in English by the Malaysian author Zen Cho, which made it a very accessible entry into the genre for me as a Western reader. This book is a pure fun romp about a nun who joins up with a crew of bandits. It made me smile a lot.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

After enjoying The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water so much, I decided to try another Zen Cho novel, and WOW am I glad I did. This book wrecked me with queer diaspora feels. It's about a Malaysian-American lesbian who moves back to Malaysia as an adult after spending most of her life in the US. She begins to be haunted by the ghost of her grandmother and gets drawn into the world of gods and spirits. The ending of this book had me weeping at its beauty.

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Pure feminist catharsis. If you've ever had one of those days when you have wanted to tear off the face of every man who has ever abused or oppressed you (who hasn't?) this story about Wu Zetian, giant mecha-wielding avatar of female rage, may be the balm your soul needs.

魔道祖师 | Mo Dao Zu Shi | Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by 墨香铜臭 | Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

This book came for my life. Since I read it, not a day goes by that I don't think about it. I know no peace. Mo Dao Zu Shi is a xianxia novel that has an official translation coming out next week (you can follow the link above to order it.) It's an extremely compelling gay romance that made my heart explode. More than that, it's a beautiful fantasy epic, with flawed and complex characters, villains you can't help but love at least a little, and grand themes about morality, grief, class, and internalized homophobia.

人渣反���自救系统 | Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong | Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by 墨香铜臭 | Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

After I enjoyed Mo Dao Zu Shi so very, very much, I knew I had to read other works by MXTX. This is an earlier novel, and not as good, but still very fun to read. It's a satire of the isekai/transmigration genre, in which the main character is transmigrated into a poorly written erotic novel as the scum villain, and has to try to not get killed. Very metafictional and laugh-out-loud hilarious.

[balsa-margarita]

I’ve always felt the primary motivation of Them has been entertainment. As Maxwell put it “even a king is bound to the borad”. The constant is just one of many games the have running. Preformices made with actors who have no idea there just playing a role cast for them. Watching as world’s tear themselves apart over the smallest nudges or trinkets. All to stave off the boridom eternity brings

I mean, from a lore standpoint this is 100% true and intentionally written into the game that way. They ensnared Maxwell to force him to create the Constant, which They could then use to ensnare other people - and in general They tend to remain content with simply watching. So yes, They fuck with people and play multidimensional chess to keep Themselves occupied, because otherwise they don't really have anything to do.

(The chess motif in particular is huge in Don't Starve - when Maxwell says that "even a king is bound to the board" he says that from the king's perspective. Also like said chess piece, he's very useless when the player actually encounters him, with the omnipresent board-jaunting terror that is the queen being represented by the omnipresent shadow-jaunting terror that is Charlie. So yes, Klei were very intentional with all of the chess stuff.)

In my multiversal cosmology - or what amounts to one - Don't Starve's Them are one of many loosely related examples of what I call "hadal entities" in a direct reference to the ocean's hadal zones, as these beings tend to reside in the multiversal equivalent of those zones. None of these entities are necessarily directly related, but they all share similar themes in certain important areas, and so I shove them into the same category. (They all tend to be the "edgy void/shadow entities" and/or "silent observer" types, because those entities tend to have similar inscrutable motives.)

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR x ES] Viewing Party

Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow​ * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles​​ Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend �� also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!

It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within. 

The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat. 

She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams. 

Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events. 

Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing. 

Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.

—

“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.” 

“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking. 

Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?” 

Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela. 

“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.” 

“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes. 

The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another. 

—

“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!” 

“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.

“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.

—

After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing. 

While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful. 

Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.” 

Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.” 

“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.

“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked. 

“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.” 

—

“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.

“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.” 

“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”

“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”

“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.” 

From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water. 

—

“Ready? Set! Go!” 

Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water. 

Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration. 

Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.

—

“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!” 

“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?” 

“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied. 

—

A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.” 

Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?” 

Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.  

Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”

—

That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room. 

—

“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.

[spaceoperajay]

loved unconditionally & unconsciously

fluffy maxwil drabble. read below the cut or on ao3

The barest amounts of consciousness slowly blew into Wilson Percival Higgsbury's mind, like a warm windy summer day. The first thing he noticed was the rich cherry smoke which filled the air, if he hadn't been long used the tent filling with it, some primal instinct in him might have been alerted. But such instincts, hard fought to earn and hard fought to lose, had long been put to rest. The smoke comforted him, filled his lungs a bite he knew to mean home.

He next noticed the chest he laid on, so soft, so hard and boney. He just needed to feel that heartbeat steady, feel the bare skin caress his face. He readjusted his head for comfort, but he could also nuzzle himself into it forever, just loose himself. There was no place he'd rather lay his head.

He noticed then that he was held tight by a boney arm. Said arm around him was a protector. He'd seen it shred enemies bloody countless times. Enemies that wanted to hurt him, the man he held dear, and the family he had found. As his eyes blinked open occasionally he spied the blackened nail lackadaisically twirling Wilson’s own thick chest hair in an indiscernible pattern. Blackened by the shadow’s corruption. Shadows were a threat, but They were a threat outside this tent, outside the arms of the man he could conquer any magic or science with. Sometimes the shadows snuck in, and those nights were bad, those sunny afternoons with long shadows that became too long were bad. But over the countless seasons, They had a harder time getting into their tent.

The warm thick beefalo blanket surrounding him almost went unnoticed due to its omnipresence. Wilson remembered vividly how Maxwell harangued about sewing them just right. Wilson sniped about the dogmatism of the seamster at first. However, once Maxwell had let him under those blankets, both naked and vulnerable, it had been worth it. Even if Maxwell put his cold feet on Wilson sometimes. He kissed Maxwell under those sheets, warmly, needy, for they held the answer to everything that held him home. It was fully reciprocated with a soft tongue behind jagged teeth he knew wouldn't intentionally hurt him.

A voice brought Wilson into further wakefulness, a low scouse voice, hoarse as its owner spoke for the first time that morning, "Having a good dream, love?" Wilson, who had been drooling on Maxwell's chest, shifted slightly to look up at that charactered handsome face.

Wilson cuddled closer and groaned back, "Mhhmmm...always in your arms."

[iiryebreadii]

Episode 39

The tldr of this one is Unreliable Narrators

- Bullying Jacobi time

- SILENCE.

- Object? BOX??? not the box dangit

- bottle? WRONG YOU DUMB DUMB IDTIOT STUPID HEAD

- it’s his bottle of scotch?

- It’s his 30 year old bottle of fancy scotch

- It out there vibing

- Kepler calm down it’s just alcohol

- Are we gonna have a Who Dunnit episode? Please. Please I need this.

- How are things clanging around when they’re in space and they’re floating

- LIGHTSABER NOISE

- Eiffel is poking things :)

- Fellas why are you like this?

- Minkowski how’s it feel to once again have the only braincell

- “I want you to say please :3 Pretty please with a cherry on t—“ CRASH

- The terrified screaming in the background incredible

- Wait couldn’t they just ask Hera what happened she’s like omnipresent for the ship right

- Jacobi recruited Eiffel this was the first wrong decision

- Minkowski sounding like a ditz in Jacobi’s story is so horrifying

- LIGHTSABER SOUND RETURNS

- Eiffel just wants to touch the red button let him touch it

- He toucha the button :)

- I can’t handle the Minkowski in Jacobi’s story I’m freakin out I’m gonna scream

- He’s like “it wasn’t my fault I had the only braincell”

- Eiffel tell your version go go go

- Kepler is just dying inside

- Eiffel shut up and start talking

- Eiffel remembers Nothing

- Donut experiments

- Eiffel says everyone yells at me for no reason and I hate it here

- “Can you just let me try” “let you FAIL” “nice one” *highfive sound*

- I hate everyone why can’t they just tell the story correctly

- Hilbert is here now “I Am Here Now Because Russians Drawn To Loud Noises.”

- Minkowski in Eiffel’s story is only marginally better than the Minkowski in Jacobi’s story

- Maxwell has a robot army of killers on the loose

- Eiffel why are you turning this into a novel

- How much was truthful?? A non-zero amount

- This is so sad it’s time to put Eiffel into space

- Eiffel’s story sucked so now he’s being banished into space to be the Alcohol Retriever

- So like what actually happened

- I’m guessing they all contributed to the Case of the Lost Scotch

- glad to see confirmation that they are all idiots but Minkowski is the least idiot-y

- Kepler out here sounding like an angry father yelling at his children

- Like I get you’re in space and stuff but like it’s a single bottle of alcohol get over it you child

- Eiffel what were you trying to accomplish there. Were you trying to tell a convincing story. Were you trying to write a New York Times bestseller. Were you DMing a dnd campaign. What WAS that honey.

[supersaiyadaddy]

Dystopia Reading Recommendations by my friend Victoria H:

 

All Good Children by Catherine Austin

The American government has developed a treatment to cure teenage delinquency which is bad news for 17 year old Maxwell, graffiti artist and angry, young man. This novel is a chilling look into the future of social control using pharmaceuticals.

Angel Fall by Susan Ee

One of the few books on this list I haven’t read, but book sellers and readers alike love this series. I’m looking forward to reading how 17 year old Penryn Young survives when warrior angels attack San Francisco, beginning the apocalypse. 

Children of Eden by Joey Grace

Rowan is her parent’s second child, which in a world of strict population control, makes her not just illegal but marked for death. Another novel recommended by my bookseller best friend which has received rave reviews.

Gone series by Michael Grant

I’m honestly not a huge fan of this series, but mine is definitely a minority opinion.  One day, all the adults are simply gone with no explanation, leaving teens suddenly in charge of a world of children. A scary scenario which becomes more perilous as animals and the remaining humans begin to change, developing dangerous supernatural abilities. 

Sixteen by Julia Karr

One of the lesser known books on this list, but one of my favourites as unlike so many other dystopias the setting isn’t also the plot. Nina is nervous about her fast approaching sixteenth birthday when she’ll receive a government mandated tattoo indicating she is now sexually available. After her mother is attacked, Nina discovers that everything she’s been told her about post-sixteen life is a horrible lie.

Legend series by Marie Lu

In the dystopian Republic, June is a fifteen year old military prodigy determined to capture her country’s most wanted criminal, fifteen year old Day, a survivor of the slums. Both think they know everything about their world, but both the hunter and the hunted will be profoundly changed when they learn the truth. The whole series is a must read. 

The Hive by Barry Lyga and Morgan Baden

To rein in online bullying, the government now controls who is targeted for mob justice, and what level of punishment is deserved. Teenaged Cassie has had every reason to believe in the fairness of this system, until one online joke makes her a target of a violent punishment far in excess of her crime. Fully believable and scary; I couldn’t put the book down until I reached the end.

Bumped by Megan McCafferty

A fascinating novel of what happens when fertility is limited to the teenage years, and the competition is fierce for the privilege of impregnating the smartest, healthiest and best looking girls. Melody, who scores high on all three categories, believes she’s the luckiest girl in the world until she discovers she has an identical twin sister, Harmony, who is determined to save her from a sinful future.

The Knife of Never Letting Go series by Patrick Ness 

On an alien world, a small community of human men have the ability to hear each other’s thoughts. But when soon to be 13 year old Todd discovers that the Noise of everyone’s thoughts isn’t as omnipresent as he’s been told, he’s forced to flee for his life. For there are many dark, violent secrets on this world where keeping secrets should be impossible. 

Burn Mark by Laura Powell (sequel Witch Fire)

In an England where the Inquisition never ended and witches are still burned, developing the ability to do magic during your adolescence is a curse almost no one wants. Glory is determined to embrace her gifts despite them trapping her in a life of crime. By contrast, Lucas, son of a Chief Inquisitor, feels cursed by his developing powers which are threatening everything he ever wanted. These novels contain one of the more realistic depictions of the practice of magic, and of the oppressive history of British social classes.

Divergent Series by Veronica Roth

A very well known series, but unfortunately much maligned due to the declining quality of the movie sequels. However, the books themselves, especially the first two, are a compelling portrayal of a society at war with itself.  I couldn’t help but root for Tris and Four, two young people determined not to allow violent prejudice limit how they live their lives.

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera 

In this near future, computers predict with unfailing accuracy who will die in the next twenty-four hours. Two very different teenage boys receive the much dreaded notification, and as the hours pass for them, you will question with increasing anxiety how accurate the title of this novel is.

Scythe Trilogy by Neal Shusterman

On an Earth where humans have conquered death, Scythes are responsible for compassionately ‘gleaning’ a quota of people to keep the burgeoning population under control. Two teenagers, Citra and Rowan, are unwillingly recruited as apprentices. Soon, their own lives will be on the line as there’s a growing movement within the Scythedom to destroy the rules that limit their ability to kill.

Unwind Series by Neal Shusterman

And if you thought the world of Scythe was twisted, this dystopian series by the same author is set after an American civil war where the opposing sides reached a terrifying compromise. Abortion is now illegal, but between the ages of 13 and 18, unruly teenagers can be sent by their parents to be ‘unwound.’ A process that claims it allows the teen to live on in their donated organs inside more worthwhile citizens. Despite this bizarre premise, the author manages to create a very convincing and terrifying future.

The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud (first book of the Bartimaeus series)

In this alternative universe, the British Empire dominates the world because British magicians are able to summon and control powerful demons. When Nathaniel, a young apprentice magician, decides to summon a djinn to get revenge on his teacher, he’s immediately in way over his head. For Bartimaeus is a conniving and hilarious demon, who is often too smart for his own good. If we lived in a just universe, people would have lined up for these books like they did for the Harry Potter series.

Uglies series by Scott Westerfeld

A well known dystopian series that deserves all the praise it has received. Tally has been told all her life that she’s ugly, that everyone is until they turn sixteen and extensive cosmetic surgery transforms them into a Pretty. Tally has eagerly awaited this transformation all her life, until she makes a friend who doesn’t want the surgery as it does far more than just alter outside appearances. This whole series is well worth reading.

The Chrysalids by John Wyndham

A classic from the 1950s that’s still easily available for good reason. This novel is set in a post-nuclear war Labrador where any mutation from ‘the norm,’ no matter how small, is feared and hated. Suspect crops are burned, mutant animals are slaughtered, and any human who appears abnormal is sterilized and exiled to the dangerous, radioactive Fringes. David Storm believes he’s lucky because his differences and those of his friends are invisible. But the arrival of his sister Petra, whose telepathic abilities outstrip all of theirs, threatens to expose them all.   

An Introduction to Zombies:

Zombies Versus Unicorns edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier

An amazing anthology of short stories about zombies or unicorns by some of the best YA authors. Funny, disturbing and moving stories of the zombie apocalypse alongside unicorn stories like none you’ve ever read before.

The Girl with All the Gifts by Mike Carey

Told from the perspective of ten year old Melanie, the titular girl, this tense thriller takes place in a world where a fungal infection has transformed much of humanity into cannibalistic hungries. This novel tackles all the hard questions of what makes someone human, but never falters from being an entertaining and scary page turner. Also, the movie adaption is as excellent as the book.

Rot and Ruin Series by Jonathan Maberry

Fourteen years after zombies first appeared, the United States has reverted to the Old West, with small towns surrounded by the rot and ruin of civilization. Benny Imura, 15, doesn’t remember what life was like before, but wants to believe there’s more to existence than living behind tall fences and locked doors. But zombies aren’t the only dangers beyond the town’s borders. This entire series is an Intelligent, compelling and believable version of a zombie apocalypse.

This is Not a Test by Courtney Summers

Barricaded in a high school in a small Canadian town, Sloane Price and five other teens try to survive a zombie outbreak, their troubled pasts, and each other. A tense, smart thriller I couldn’t put down. Warning: themes of suicide and child abuse. There’s a sequel novella, Please Remain Calm, that I haven’t read yet, but it’s available on kindle.

Peeps by Scott Westerfield

This is smart, scary book where zombies aren’t caused by a disease, but a parasite which turns people into cannibals who hate everything they used to love. Warning: the teen protagonist, Cal, has become an expert on all kinds of parasites and describes them in graphic detail. But if you have a strong enough stomach, this is one of the most unique visions of zombies from an excellent writer. There’s a sequel that’s hard to get called The Last Days that’s shamefully still on my pile of to be read.

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [128]

(201):  Thank god you don't know my other address I'm safe for now (862):  Awww you know you would like it if I found u - (307):  Did u find my other sock in your bra? U said u were uneven so I did the gentlemanly thing. -

“Your friends are terrifying. Is it because you ended a Blight together? Does ending a Blight make you…like that? Is it because you’re of that particular area and, well, era?” Max asks as Leliana smiles at her phone.

“Max. We’re basically the same age,” she points out. “Give or take a few years.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever alluded to having a physical age. Careful, Leliana. Next you’ll be accidentally letting people know that you have a blood type, which means you’ve got blood. Which means you’ve got some sort of biological functions going on which may eventually lead to someone concluding that you are not, in fact, immortal and omnipotent.

”I am not omnipotent, Maxwell. Omniscient though? I do thoroughly enjoy those rumors.”

“Next will be omnipresent at which point you’ll be verging on apotheosis and possibly lighting off some sort of heretical religion of your very own,” Max rests his cheek on his fist as he swipes through documents on his tablet. “Are you absolutely sure that this meeting is going on half an hour? No one else is here and no one else accepted the meeting invite.”

“They’ll come because I said they would.”

“Omnipotence.”

“Leverage.”

“I don’t hear a difference, Leliana, I really don’t. Now why are you terrorizing Zevran? Don’t answer with the word foreplay.”

Leliana rolls her eyes. “I’m not terrorizing him. I’m teasing him. Besides. Me not knowing some of his addresses is an interesting fact he’s let slip. I need to up my game.”

“Maybe he wants privacy.”

“Maybe he should have gotten different friends,” Leliana retorts. “It’s like a little game. No harm — no permanent harm done. And no hard feelings. And if Zevran really didn’t want me to get into his business he would say something or let me have some kind of a hint. I’m not invasive without cause. I respect certain private boundaries when they aren’t pertinent to my work.”

“That’s good to know.” Max drums his fingers on the conference table as he scans through an email Herah sent him with some reference files he’d been looking for. “Out of morbid curiosity why are you hunting Zevran down? Recreational purposes? Or official business?”

“I can’t keep track my friends for the sheer pleasure of it?” Leliana quirks an eyebrow at Max.

“Well. No offense, Leliana. But it’s you.”

“Fair enough. Recreational. I was planning a surprise party for Alistair’s birthday.”

“You’re throwing a surprise birthday party for the King of Ferelden.”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t that be somewhat difficult, what with — well. You know. His constant security detail? His numerous appointments? The fact that he’s the King of Ferelden?”

“Max. It’s me. I can throw a surprise party for whoever I want and I will damn make sure they’re surprised and there for it.”

- “Your boyfriend isn’t a gentleman,” Mahanon says, handing Ellana the sock he’d found when going through the shed remnants of his disguise. “Also when did he find time to slip a sock into my bra?”

“The Iron Bull is definitely a gentleman, and he snuck it in when you were checking to see if you had any better padding,” Ellana replies. “He was just going around with one sock for the rest of the operation. You should thank him.”

“His assistance was unsolicited.”

“His sock stopped you from looking like a botched plastic surgery job,” Ellana says gently. “Was it an Inquisition disguise? I don’t see you doing that kind of shoddy prep work for an undercover case.”

“Of course it was an Inquisition disguise,” Mahon replies. “Did you see the wig they gave me to use? How fortunate for me that the lighting inside the building was extra dim. I’m not sure if the lighting was for ambiance or if they wanted to make it harder to spot forgeries. Either way, I got plenty of evidence.”

“Shame I couldn’t see your disguise before you went off,” Ellana sighs. “Sorry. I should’ve been the one to go. Switching me out for you at the last minute most likely did not help things in the gathering of supplies for the last minute disguise part. But you know how it is.”

“How’s the fever?” Mahanon asks, fishing around in his bag and pulling out the sports drinks he picked on the way. He shakes it at her like a peace offering.  “Move, I had it first so I’m most likely immune.”

“It broke last night but I’m still feeling woozy,” Ellana says, standing aside for Mahanon to enter, taking one the blue sports drink from his hand and cracking it open. “The mission update I sent you — was it coherent? I didn’t have time to read it over and I’m pretty sure I kept falling asleep while writing it and forgetting where I was when I woke up.”

“I got the gist of it,” Mahanon says, opening her fridge to empty out his bag. A few more sports drinks, some jello and pudding cups, and a small bag of oranges. “Whatever didn’t make sense I asked Leliana for background on. There were some…hiccups while I was in the op but I was able to improvise. Again. The dim lighting and excellent use of make up made it easier to explain away some of the differences between your appearance as renowned art collector Juno Violenta, and my appearance as Juno Violenta. Who came up with that name, anyway? Wait.” Mahanon pauses as he’s pulling some eggs out of the refrigerator. “Was it de Fer?”

“Of course it was Vivienne,” Ellana says, already standing by the stove and watching water boil. “Who else knows things about art collectors? You know, Mahanon, if you wanted, you could come back. You don’t have to keep staying in the Inquisition barracks. I don’t think I’m so bad anymore.”

“I’ll give another day or two,” Mahanon says. “Bad enough you’re down. If both of us are down again then who else are they going to bring in to keep up the charade? Sera? With her nose? And the alignment of her teeth? The fact that she’s several years younger than us and also about two inches shorter? There’s only so much make up and the talents of the Inquisition’s disguise team can do. Not even dim lighting can lower those flags.”

[felixmaxwell317]

write a great story for the masterpiece unless the articles are supposed to be pure sound the beauty of 

so many reliefs and draws on the sliding and vibrato expressed and 

like what exactly is happening?

the sound is just so good to pull at because it’s like pulling at the heart of the guitar or the heart of the notes the heart of the composition 

it’s almost like i don’t care about playing a lot of notes and i really just want to hear the one note resound, the resonance of the ninth note on the third string because it sounds so good and naturally resonates like it’s being played in a large hall or in a bathroom

*night/nine also when it’s dark by the clock most of the time

the arrangement is a composition like architecture and a machine

a machine made out of 

the thought is a machine made of metal that has gears and turns and maybe an engine or a clock 

and maybe all the motions are like the seconds happening like silver being peeled off the moment as slivers 

and flowers or flowers

the most beautiful machine 

why a machine?

why intellectual?

why philosophy?

spiritual? write some spiritual stories about spiritual trips like traveling to the astral plane or the heart plane or something like that and exercise the positive spiritual imagination 

elliott maxwell is the buddha is sitting cross legged, the left leg over the right leg, in a dark room with all of the lights off and with their eyes closed and is meditating on the heart chakra when, and after a few breaths, the center of the chest begins to glow and the moment starts to feel slowed down, the space around the buddha bends about one foot or two or three feet and the heart chakra bursts with glowing light, glowing holy light, it’s bright there in that moment and the joy of the truth of the heart is expressed naturally and a six pointed star with circles at the points and a circle in the center is projected out like a hologram of pure light, a whole beam... a whole beam projected out like a hologram of pure light as a... as a whole beam... and elliott maxwell begins to project a hexagonal portal to the love plane now...

the love plane is the plane of existence where the pure absolute energy of the eternal god being is naturally begat as pure ecstatic love, unconditional love and this pure love of the omnipresent god being manifests itself as the aum and generates all the elemental states, whole worlds, entire worlds for the satisfaction of it’s own philosophical perfection in the material world. this pure love plane is the absolute world. this pure love plane is the complete world. 

elliott maxwell can hear the air outside picking up against the wind that is already blowing the clouds around in the sky. 

elliott maxwell can tell that he has finally opened the portal to his own heart, the heart of his immediate soul, his physical material eternal soul and he remains totally absorbed in his transcendental enlightened state as the sense of love becomes overwhelming and he can feel the love overwhelm the physical world all around him as space and time begin to bend around his body. 

for about twenty minutes he stays sitting in his transcendental meditation posture and then he feels a calm telepathic wave of assurance happen about him like a ghost, like a fatherly figure has told him that he’s okay to go to the other side of his own love, and a single breath occurs and then in one flash he is blinked into the love plane of his own eternal soul and the room he was meditating in bends a little bit like a dream...

elliott maxwell continues to focus on his breath in his transcendental meditation as he travels through a world where beautiful flowers please the senses and the joy of the god being manifest in material form rewards the pure of heart and the colors of the flowers are beautiful here and the colors of the flowers are so...and the flowers fall all around him, pink flowers and orange flowers and white flowers and yellow flowers, like island flowers and bright beautiful sounds like soft bells. 

elliott maxwell is entirely absorbed in his meditation as the love plane dresses his spiritual body with honorable adornments of the natural emanations of the absolute love plane based on his love of the beautiful forms in the world and his attachments to the beautiful forms of the world and the love of god goes on and goes on and stays the same for hours and hours and the hours turn to days and after a few weeks a particularly beautiful flower made of water turn the buddha on to surprise and appreciation and the buddha elliott maxwell opens his physical eyes in the plane of absolute love and the forms of the god being as beauty manifest in poly-form and the buddha elliott maxwell tilts his head to right by eleven degrees and tilts his head back seven degrees and says, “ah” with relief in his breath the direction of the flower appearing to be made of water and beautiful women appear as buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire and the beautiful female buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire look at the buddha elliott maxwell and telepathically communicate general concepts of comfort and peace and the beautiful female buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire manifest a room with wooden floors and wooden furniture for the royal buddha, elliott maxwell, who has attained a level of enlightenment and perfected the object of his own heart to the degree of having being able to travel about the world of his own eternal soul and more exactly, the plane of absolute love. the beautiful female buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire smile at the royal buddha elliott maxwell and offer the royal buddha elliott maxwell some room temperature tea in the comfortable room with the wooden floors and the wooden furniture with comfortable bedroom like seats as if the seats were made to sleep on. the atmosphere is dream-like and the beautiful female buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire speak to the royal buddha elliott maxwell, “this is a good place buddha. you are a royal buddha. it is an honor to meet you buddha. this is the plane of absolute love buddha.” all at once, the twelve of them and the royal buddha, elliott maxwell smiles and says, “thank you buddha. this is a good place buddha. it is an honor to meet all of you beautiful buddha. i love this plane of absolute love buddha.” 

elliott maxwell and the beautiful buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire enjoy seven cups of room temperature tea in green saki cups and then the royal buddha, elliott maxwell takes note of the time as he is in the motion of placing the green saki tea cup, now emptied out, and the time is four o’clock in the afternoon and on the twelfth minute and at the fourteenth second and one of the beautiful buddhas dressed in royal oriental attire tell him, “buddha, you are dreaming buddha. wake up buddha.” and elliott maxwell wakes up in his bedroom that his was meditating in weeks ago and he swells into the waking state from a cloud of his dreaming mind and then abruptly looks at his watch and reads that the time is seven o’clock in the morning and looks around and is amazed that he is back in his bedroom where he was meditating just weeks ago. 

the day is the next morning from the night he had been meditating alone in his bedroom with all of lights off and elliott maxwell smiles and gets ready for work. 

the buddha, elliott maxwell has just returned after a long trip, a nice vacation, to the plane of absolute love, the world of his own eternal soul... congratulations to him, the buddha... elliott maxwell.

[meanypunches]

My review of The Believers, only slight spoilers-

I can see why the critics panned this film. Despite its A-list stars and screenplay it has a B-grade made-for-TV feel to it. The lawyer friend’s stage magic shtick feels rushed - they spent not enough time developing it for the coup de grâce, which still works but I thought the whole set-up deserved more attention. The finale of the sorcerer impaled upon the raw materials of modernity works too, and though hints of this theme begin in the film’s opening it too feels rushed, as if the film’s budget was top-heavy due to the presence of Sheen and his Apocalypse Now bravado, replaced here with the thoughtful undercover work of a police psychologist who infiltrates a folk religion founded upon (human) sacrifice of the young - not unlike ‘this great nation of ours’ as one of the cultists points out, the sacrifice of war itself. This movie is disturbing on a lot of levels based largely upon these hints dropped in the screenplay. When I first saw it in the theater I did not realize it was written by Mark Frost who would later go on to such success with David Lynch as a collaborator. It is too bad that the director John Schlesinger could not make this film as gritty and real as his earlier acclaimed work, nor could he manage to highlight in any impactful way the true theme here of modern society versus its shadow, the ‘premodern’ or ‘supernatural’ and the superstitions of (one might say) those traditionally excluded from modern society, i.e. ‘the folk’. Here we have all the ingredients of modern conspiracy theory - a cult of wealthy successful people sacrificing their own children and apparently the children of others at times. This is the stuff we are still fighting about now, what with the steady drumbeat of Epstein, Maxwell, and QAnon echoing out in the jungles of the Internet. As I said, the movie opens with hints of this theme, modernity versus the premodern, a parade of modern uncertainty and the suggestion of extreme politics - front page terrorism headlines scream random death, as onscreen death by defective product screams product liability and the possibility of a lawsuit, a triggering of the legal system and all the contingency that entails - will the son have to testify? It is too traumatic. The cult offers magic as an escape from modern society and the trauma of its omnipresent contingency: “Of course you’re uncertain… and now imagine if you can a life without uncertainty…” But it is the stage magic tricks of this lawyer (a trade that deals mostly in contingency) that ultimately saves them. Modern society with its science, uncertainty and differentiated social systems triumphs in the end, but for how long? A guard dog is not enough. Fear demands ritual, a hidden shrine. We cling to our superstitions - “We’ll be safe now,” she whispers gently in the darkness.

[krinsbez]

Pulptober 2022, Themes Elaborated, Part 4

As I promised at the end of Part 3, to make up for the two days of Judaism-induced radio silence between Part One and Part Two, you get two today!

16-Brain Boy/Not All Heroes Wear Costumes

While not as prone to costumes as their super-successors, a heaping helping of Pulp Heroes wear a recognizable costume, or at least an iconic hat or strategically-torn shirt. But just as many prefer to dress like normal people. This day’s for them. Alternate Examples: The Scarlet Pimpernel*, Nick and Nora Charles*+.

17-Harry Vincent/Agents, Aides, and Allies

Whilst many Pulp Heroes are veritable supermen (and women, and hopefully enbies someday), they aren’t omnipotent, omniscient, nor omnipresent. They need people working with and/or for them to get the job done, who are often pretty awesome in their own right. This day is for saluting them. Alternate Examples: “Monk“ Mayfair, Nita Van Sloan, Lothar*.

18-The Rocketeer/Hero By Accident

These are Pulp Heroes who never set out to be heroes, but by circumstances find themselves in a situation where they have the ability to make things right, and they inevitably choose to do the right thing. Alternate examples: Click “The Gadget Man“ Rush, The Nyctalope*+

19-Ogon Bat/Origins In Ancient Times

OK, I’m cheating a bit here, because this one has two meanings. It can refer to the character being one of the older examples of the Pulp Hero breed, or it can refer to the fact that the source of their power is not some sort of super-science, but instead a lost secret from the distant past. Alternate Examples: The Reverend Doctor Syn* (for meaning one), Phra The Phoenician* (for meaning two; I was gonna use Sun Koh, but...let’s not open that can of worms, huh?).

20-The Saint/Heroism For Fun And Profit

These Pulp Heroes do what they do not so much out of a burning need for justice, as because they enjoy it, and they usually expect to be paid for it. Alternate Examples: Sherlock Holmes, Luke Cage.

21-Conan/Good Is Not Nice

These Pulp Heroes are really more like anti-Heroes. They can generally be counted on to do the right thing (eventually). But they’re gonna be huge assholes about it the whole time. Alternate examples: The Whisperer, “Dirty“ Harry Callahan*.

And that’s Part Four! Tomorrow, hopefully, I’ll do another part.

*I have not consumed much, or any of the source material

+Suggested to me by @maxwell-grant. Once again, thank you!