#urban fantasy roman

[amaliazeichnerin]

Mein Rezensionsexemplar von "HAEXED - Von magischen Hacktivisten und teuflischen Influencerinnen: Ein moderner, queerer Urban Fantasyroman" von Murphy Malone ist heute eingetroffen und ich bin schockverliebt in die Optik und die schöne Widmung.😍 Hier im Reel (1,5 Minuten, mit Musik) blättere ich durch das Buch. Schaut doch mal mit mir rein.😊 Das Buch erscheint am 17. September 2024 im Verlag Novel Arc. Die Verlagsseite des Buches: https://www.novelarc.de/buch/haexed-von-magischen-hacktivisten-und-teuflischen-influencerinnen-ein-moderner-queerer-urban

[thenightfolknetwork]

As a person of evident good judgement, I'm sure you're familiar with the works of the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett. He has the rare skill of mixing philosophy and politics into his comedy, it's quite delightful.

One such example is in his novel 'Going Postal'. He introduces the idea that, “A man’s not dead while his name is still spoken.” It's a beautiful sentiment. But I must confess, some of the shine has worn off it for me in recent years.

I'll cut to the chase: I died of typhoid fever in 49CE. And I mean died. I was done and gone and passed, leaving no more ripples on the surface of the world than any other Joe Nobody. My name had been long forgotten, the stone marking my grave long since worn away.

And then, to my surprise, I returned.

It started slowly, a gradual stirring of awareness. Then, in a great crashing wave, I arrived – full and real and vibrant, as alive as I had been before my sickness.

I've since learnt that there was an archaeological dig near my old home a few years ago. They discovered the stone, deciphered it despite the wear. My name returned to the world - and I returned with it.

At first I was just being mentioned in academic circles, cited here and there. Nothing dramatic.

But then hen, a writer named a character after me in a miniseries about Roman Britain. My name was on millions of lips - apparently I'm something of a fan favourite.

But I've seen the programme and it's all wrong! The character is nothing like me, for starters. And the life they've painted… Well, it is a good effort, I suppose. But it is not my life.

This is to say nothing of the fan interpretation. They barely seem to care about the text of the show at all! They extrapolate wildly, especially about my relationship with a certain centurion. The two of us share barely more than a minute or two of screen time!

I don't mind being back, per se. I enjoyed being alive, and I'm enjoying being back - especially the chance to catch up on my reading.

How can I correct the people's misinterpretations of me and my life? Or should I just let it go and enjoy my resurgence - however long it might last?

First of all, reader, congratulations on returning to this plane of existence. Unexpected as this return might be, I'm glad you're still finding ways to enjoy this new lease on… not life, exactly, but something rather like it.

I can well imagine how frustrating it might be to see people attaching your name and identity to an otherwise fictional character. But I think emphasising that difference is the first step in coming to terms with the situation.

This writer has shown a remarkable commitment to authenticity by choosing the name of a real Roman Briton to use in their screenplay. But seeking to create authentic fiction is a very different ambition than seeking to create a fully accurate representation of past events and the people who lived them.

I wish I could tell you that the viewers of this programme will understand this difference. Many will, but it is an unfortunate truth that people often take historical dramas at face value and may not fully appreciate just how much of what they see has been at most tenuously inspired by historical research, and more likely invented whole cloth by the writers themselves.

But this is a misinterpretation of a television programme, not of you. These viewers are engaging with a piece of fiction, not with you as a real, historical person. This is especially true of those viewers who “extrapolate wildly” about the relationships between fictional character. They aren't misinterpreting you – they're creating their own fictions, inspired by the fiction they've consumed.

With that said, many fans of historical fiction are also interested in actual historical research. If you really want to educate people about life in Roman Britain, the fans of this programme might be a particularly receptive audience. You could try posting on social media about your experiences, using the events in the programme as a jumping off point for your discussion of real history.

Do tread carefully, though. You need to keep a clear distinction between yourself as a real, historical figure and the character who bears your name. You aren't trying to “correct” the television programme or criticise its portrayal, but rather offering your reflections as additional insights for anyone who might be interested.

Please remember though, you are under no obligation to engage with this fan community at all. I see no reason at all why you can't simply leave them to their extrapolations, and concentrate on enjoying yourself for as long as you're with us.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[preservationofnormalcy]

ITEM FILE #2213

ITEM: "Glycon's Grove"

ITEM HISTORY: Broadcast from 1987-1996, Glycon's Grove was a children's puppet show that debuted on public television stations accessible in Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa. After three episodes, the anomalous properties of the show were confirmed, and access to public television wavelengths was restricted. An agreement with Glycon's Grove production team (Oddy See) and the Office was reached wherein Oddy See would receive funding and distribution through OPN-approved channels, while all scripts, dialogue, and visuals were sent to the Parafiction Department for approval and study. After a brief interruption, Glycon's Grove was then broadcast nationwide (and in Canada and Mexico through agreement with RCOE and SER) on thaumic wavelengths decryptable by "analog augury"-compatible television sets, cable TV packages catering to the extranormal community, and distributed via VHS consumer hardware.

Glycon's Grove centered around the adventures of the titular Glycon, referred to as a "snake" despite his crude sock-puppet appearance. Glycon, often the energetic but patient voice of reason, would counsel his friends during common children's show storylines of the time, teaching lessons such as manners, the importance of reading and creativity, and honesty. The idea of snakes as "important, friendly creatures" was a common recurring topic. The show took place in the Grove of Olympus, with the rest of the cast being more typically-constructed puppets of a minotaur, hydra, cyclops, aquatic creatures, and in later seasons, a large "Cerebus" requiring multiple puppeteers to operate. Every few episodes, one of "the gods" (played by one of the human puppeteers in costume) would enter the Grove and provide the cast with that episode's challenge or conundrum. "Dio" was portrayed by actor Kenneth Young as a "surfer dude" always holding a family-friendly can of grape soda. "Heff" (Baker) often cajoled the cast into trying his new inventions, while "Arty" (Brown) asked for help in locating her lost pets.

Numerous interviews and investigations conducted by the Office concluded that while each other puppet in the cast (a list in the image above) was credited to and clearly played and voiced by a human puppeteer, Glycon's puppeteer, if they existed, was never credited or seen at any point. When interviewed, other members of Oddy See insisted that Glycon was "just Glycon" and did not acknowledge any puppeteer. During studio tours, Glycon was observed to move around the studio in ways that would be challenging for a human-puppeted character, EG, in one room and suddenly another, manifesting on multiple parts of a sound stage in rapid succession, always behind a barrier that could have reasonably obscured a human puppeteer from any Office observer. Attempts to isolate all visual angles in a given room often failed, resulting in Glycon appearing from a loose ceiling panel or other improbable locations.

Glycon "himself" always agreed to interviews, providing they could be done on Oddy See studio property, citing his "bum leg" as an inability to leave the property. He was at once forthcoming and evasive, simply repeating that he was "a puppet" when asked about his state, and that he "needed a new gig" as one of the reasons he started Glycon's Grove. Interviewers commonly reported Glycon as "charming" or "funny".

Parafictional research into Glycon's Grove and similarities to a mytho-folkloric figure of the same name are ongoing to this day.

[lou-wilham]

My co-author and I worked with @oblivionsdream to have her do up artwork of our characters from Sanctuary of the Lost and they are SO beautiful.

When I say Christis and I have lived with these characters rent free in our heads for probably close to a decade, I'm not joking. So to put pen to paper, and then to see an artist bring them to life in this way, means so much to both of us. And they truly did come out just how we imagined them!

Sometimes, love finds you anyway. Burned by her first love, Mab has spent the last several years content with her brother, their club, and her Miami beach front property. The last thing she wants, or needs, is for the arrow cast by Erotes—god of love—to rear its ugly head. But trouble disrupts Mab’s hard-earned peace in the form of a dead inanimi washed up on her private beach. Not wanting to disturb Ander and his newfound bliss, Mab calls the only person she can think of—Quintus Schields. Life for Quin used to be simple. Second in command to his brother Maximus, Quin has always been a hardworking and dedicated creature of few words. He wants nothing to do with the owners of Inferno or their drama. Especially with his new responsibilities as caregiver to an ignis youngling. So, when Mab Duchan asks for help, he has to decide if he wants to keep his world as is, or accept there might be more to life than he expected. As Miami’s criminal underground returns to sink its claws into them, Fate forces the four to face old demons, and question just what they’re willing to do for happiness.

GoodReads | Purchase

[somethingcoolhopefully]

Yes. Ancient history friends - read this. It’s a book about the crazy shit in the Roman Republic… if the republic was today. And it’s a political train wreck ✨

[tss-grimmverse]

Chapter 1: Blackthorn

enter through the alleyway past the invisible door and all the way down the escher staircase in the underworld it’s not the same as before

Six months later

Stetson was small for a university. “Intimate”, the brochure called it. Roman always assumed that Virgil, had it been up to him, would have preferred a sprawling campus where his dark, brooding, emo self could get comfortably lost in a sea of students. But Logan lived in DeLand, and Logan had been Virgil’s only option for staying hidden from his former faery master, Deceit.

So, after Deceit was dead and Virgil decided to finish his art degree after all, he’d come back to the one place he already knew. He was familiar with Stetson’s campus, on good terms with his teachers, and friendly with the local solitaries.

Roman understood that. He didn’t have to like it.

He cut the engine on his motorcycle and yanked off his helmet, flicking back sweat-damp hair. The campus seemed unusually empty; most students had probably gone home for spring break already. His bike was one of only five vehicles left in the University Hall parking lot.

Roman hung the helmet from the handlebars, stretched his arms, worked out the stiffness from his legs. Maybe biking all the way from Pennsylvania wasn't such a great idea. He told himself he'd ridden the bike so he could come and go on his own terms...but truthfully, he could have taken a bus just as easily. He’d brought the bike to show off, to possibly persuade Virgil to take a ride with him while he was here…

But he was getting ahead of himself, as usual.

Roman eyed Virgil’s dormitory in the deepening twilight, scrubbing a hand through his hair again.

Maybe I should find a motel room first. He fished his phone out and slung his backpack over his back. Just so he doesn't feel like he has to offer his space. Just so it's not awkward. 

He could use a walk after all that travel, anyway.

By the time he crossed the dark campus, he'd successfully booked a room. His finger then hovered over Virgil's number. A warning would be polite, especially when it came to Mr. Doesn't Like Surprises. Roman had initially come unannounced so Virgil couldn't talk him out of it, but Roman also didn't want to ruin the progress they'd made since Logan's and Patton's engagement party.

He scuffed his foot as he walked, thoughts swirling like gnats in the streetlights.

He wanted to believe earning that art degree was the only reason Virgil left Philly and returned to a state he admittedly hated, to the one middle-of-nowhere town where a certain former crush happened to live. Sure, Virgil transferring schools in his junior year would have been a needless headache. He’d elected to live in the dorms instead of moving back into Logan’s and Patton’s apartment. He called Roman nearly every week, keeping him updated, claiming he’d been too busy to see anyone except classmates and coworkers.

At the very least, Roman knew Virgil believed his own words. And if I'm not over Virgil, after all this time, he thought bitterly. What right do I have to complain if he’s not completely over Logan?

“Changeling,” a voice murmured in wet-sounding Faery.

Roman realized his wandering had carried him to the fountain at the center of Stetson’s campus, lit up against the growing darkness. A long-limbed naiad lounged on the edge, watching him. She wore black clothes and fishnets like an ordinary human, but Roman’s changeling eyes picked out her waterfall of dripping white hair, bluish skin, and solid black Fae eyes.

Virgil had never mentioned any solitaries around the Stetson fountain. Roman casually brought his backpack around, unzipped it, and curled a hand around his sword hilt.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The naiad arched back, letting her hair spill into the water, where it undulated in the current like pale snakes. “You won’t use that.” She gestured languidly at the bag.

Roman gripped the sword harder. “Maybe I would. You don’t know.”

“Your steel has spilled our blood, but in moons long past. I can smell the difference. You brandish it now for bluster.” She sat up and grinned, showing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. “You do not frighten me.”

Fucking enigmatic solitaries. He hated the way they saw straight through any human lie, no matter how carefully constructed. What did it say about him, that she could tell he hadn’t had the stomach to hunt their kind for months? Roman reshouldered his bag and walked on, determined to ignore her.

“Beware pixie territory,” the naiad added as he passed.

Roman stopped but did not turn. “What?”

“Summer in the air. Death in the water.” She grinned again as he turned, eyes narrowed. “Watch your words.”

“What in the Arcadian hell are you talking about?” Roman snapped, fighting a chill.

 But the naiad slid into the fountain with an eerie lack of splash and lay underwater, ignoring him, and Roman knew he’d get no more from her. He scoffed and trudged toward the edge of campus.

Virgil maintained that the solitaries on Stetson’s campus generally liked humans—which, in faery terms, meant the pranksters were mostly harmless and the rest kept to themselves. Plus, solitaries didn’t normally pop out of the metaphorical woodwork and talk to Smile hunters, even lapsed ones.

“Summer in the air. Death in the water. Watch your words.”

She’d meant to warn him.

Pixie territory. The hair on his neck lifted. Could she mean Painter’s Pond?

He bit his lip. This sounded like a hunt.

He considered going back to Virgil’s dorm first…but Virgil wasn’t Smile, and Virgil didn’t know he was here yet. Roman didn’t want their first reunion in months marred by faery drama. No, he would investigate the park and take care of the problem liked the damned hunter he was supposed to be.

Roman walked the few blocks to Painter’s Pond, slowing as he approached, his heart heavy with memories. Logan used to bring Virgil and Roman out here with Nic, and after Patton entered the picture, it became the four of them. He remembered chasing the dog and the pixies, Virgil laughing from the sidelines—when they weren't at each other’s throats. He could almost hear Virgil's low, gravelly voice saying "idiot," could picture him shaking his head with that maddening half-smile. 

It occurred to him that Virgil might not necessarily be in his dorm; he could be at work, out prowling around downtown, or—Roman's heart skipped at the thought—right here on these familiar paths somewhere. Virgil's relationship with this park might be complicated, but surely he still visited his pixie friends from time to time.

Roman took a step onto the grass; his skin instantly prickled. The air felt…wrong, like the trembly hesitance he got before touching a staticky doorknob.

Oh, hell. That naiad did know something.

Roman had been a Smile hunter long enough to never ignore his gut. Faery magic was both insidious and nebulous; it wanted you to dismiss it as nothing, as imagination, as too much stress or not enough sleep. Arguably the most important lesson in faery hunting was learning to ignore that "reasonable" voice in your head.

The park looked empty, streetlamps spilling orange light in pools along the paths. But at the end of the park's low wall, one dark streetlight made a cradle of blackness, bordered by clusters of tiny, bone-white shrooms. A Court circle. Ambient streetlight glimmered off the white, white mushroom caps, especially when he looked out of the corner of his eye.

Roman stalked to the near end of the wall and ducked behind, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders. He opened the main flap and eased out his sword and scabbard, making as little noise as possible. He didn't draw it, yet—he didn't know what he was facing—but he did tie the scabbard to his belt loops.

He then drew in a careful breath and focused inward.

Roman’s old master, who only permitted his changelings to call him Sir, used to hang beaded curtains around his cave lair: intricate patterns picked out in thousands of minuscule beads, strings of fist-sized glass balls that bruised when one crashed into them at a run. Their clacking featured prominently in Roman’s nightmares; some of his earliest memories involved running and putting curtain after curtain between himself and his master’s cruel experiments. That Unseelie had fancied himself a scientist…if careful butchery and elaborate torture could be considered science. And Roman happened to develop the one power guaranteed to drive such a master to unhinged fury: luck.

Roman learned to slip through those beaded strings like a ghost, disturbing them as little as possible so they wouldn’t clack and betray his passage. He often wondered if that stealthy sidestep he’d cultivated led to him gaining the ability to touch something as ephemeral as possibility. Drawing on his power felt like running through Sir’s lair, each bead in each curtain representing an outcome. Every decision, every movement, even his thoughts parted the strands in different ways. The trick to manipulating luck, he discovered, was to find the beads you wanted while not disturbing the rest.

Know where you’re going.

Sidestep.

I need to know what is going on, he chanted silently.

Keep the rest quiet.

I need to see and to not be noticed by unfriendly eyes.

Pass through.

I need to know. 

The back of his neck tingled, hairs rising as the familiar warm sensation of possibility slid glassily over his skin.

“What are you doing here?” a voice chimed in his ear.

Roman startled and found himself face-to-face with a soot-skinned, flame-haired pixie, whose tiny eyes were round o’s of surprise. She landed primly on the hand he instinctively raised.

“Tourmaline?” he hissed. That was fast.

“I am not displeased to see you, Roman Princey,” she said. “But it has been some time.”

Roman hid a cringe. He knew she only called him Princey because Virgil did, but now that particular nickname reminded him a little too much of Johnny Prince.

“I got a weird warning from a weird naiad and came to investigate.” he said, gesturing at the mushrooms. “What’s with the Court ring? I thought DeLand was still unclaimed.”

Tourmaline’s face grew pinched. She had always been more polite and serious than Virgil’s favorites, Wren and Wrassey. Roman suspected that was why Logan preferred her company.

“I believe this is the work of a single Court Fae working alone, though I have not seen them. The ring grew several days ago, and of more concern, many of my clan have since gone missing.” Her chiming voice dropped to a soft echo of itself. “I cannot penetrate the mushroom barrier myself, but I suspect that is where my sisters are.”

Well, that didn’t sound good at all.

“Can I help?” Roman asked.

She cast him an appraising look, her gaze lingering on his sheathed sword. “Your appearance is auspiciously well-timed.”

“You know me,” he said with a wink.

“It so happens that my purpose in coming to the wall tonight was to seek the help of…ah.”

Her wings carried her over Roman’s head, and she buzzed hard enough for them to glow like a beacon. Roman followed the line of her gaze.

Oh, luck.

Logan Ursae, his straight-backed posture unmistakable even in the low light, crossed the grassy park and made a beeline for Tourmaline’s glowing body. Oddly, neither Patton nor Nicodemus were with him. The half-faery slowed as he noticed Roman crouched in the shadows.

“S’up, Nerdy Wolverine?” Roman shot him a jaunty salute.

Logan opened his mouth, shut it again, and sighed.

“In the interest of saving time, I will not ask the obvious question,” he said in his low, resonant voice. “Clearly your luck has carried you along as it usually does.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Roman rolled his eyes.

Just as well I hadn’t called Virgil yet.

Logan knelt, adjusting his glasses and peering over the wall. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his teeth.

“It’s still here?” he said to Tourmaline.

“You don’t sound surprised to see a Court ring in your stargazing park,” Roman commented.

“I have been monitoring it for several days now.” Logan scowled. “Normally, I would leave such things alone, as I try to stay clear of Court matters. But, if I have interpreted your message correctly”—he glanced at the hovering pixie— “Wren and Wrassey are now among your missing kin?”

Tourmaline nodded.

Roman’s heart sank; she’d meant “sisters” literally. “Does Virgil know? Those are his friends. Has he been here to see the ring?”

“I do not know.” Logan’s voice gave nothing away. “I have not seen him since he arrived in DeLand.”

Good, Roman’s mind supplied nastily, prompting a pang of guilt. “What are we gonna do?”

“I meant to attempt a crossing tonight,” Logan said. “Tourmaline, am I correct in assuming solitary Fae are still barred?

The pixie settled onto Logan’s shoulder and nodded.

“And any human would just walk from one side to the other like it wasn’t even there,” Roman added.

“You know how Court-laid rings work.” Logan shot Roman a contemplative look.

“May I remind you that I’m a Smile hunter, Pain in the Nexus Instrument?” Roman snarked, grinning when Logan pulled a confused face. “Earthside Courts love their little magical pockets where they can lure in unsuspecting humans, or do their dirty work unobserved.”

“Or merely live their lives, safe from humans and Arcadian kin alike,” Logan added with a frown.

Roman waved that off. “Whatever the reason, it never occurs to them that a barrier like this”—he gestured at the mushroom ring—“designed to be inaccessible to Fae and invisible to humans, might still be vulnerable to us. Most of the time, Smile changelings can slip right in.” He stood and drew his sword in one swift motion. “Which is what I’m gonna do right now.”

Blackthorn: boundaries

[sdobntheseries]

The ups and downs are unreal…come check out chapter 6,7&8 of my new series….also listen to the playlist I put together for the series

Sweet Dreams

Or

Beautiful Nightmares

[sweetbloggerunu]

Gut oder nicht Gut - Das ist hier die Frage!

Mona - Verliebt, Verlobt, Beschworen von Isabel Zimmermann auf Twitch u. auch als Honeyball bzw. Kritzelpixel bekannt.

Vor Kurzem erst begonnen und innerhalb von Drei Tagen durchgelesen, Mona Band 2 hat mich sogar noch mehr in den Bann und die damit verbundene Welt der Vampire, Werwölfe, Zombies, Dämonen, Hexenden, usw. gezogen. Mit viel gutem Humor, einer tiefen Story, der Deutschen Bürokratie, Guten Charakteren + deren Entwicklung und mehr als nur einer priese Erotik hat man dieses Meisterwerk und die perfekte Fortsetzung an Buch erschaffen.

Mona - Verliebt, Verlobt, Beschworen

Es geht um immer noch um die vom Pech verfolgte Mona und den Erzdämonen Ba‘al bzw. Balthasar, die aufgrund von einer Beschwörung aneinander hängen. Da Balthasar bei jedem Problem an Monas Seite zu erscheinen hat. Aber kaum sind die beiden Verliebt und Leben miteinander kommen wieder die Brüder von Nosdrof und möchten Probleme machen. Mehr möchte ich aber nicht verraten, weil sonst ist ja dann alles spannende Weg.

Warum ich es so Mag…

Ich Liebe auch diesen Urban-Fantasy Roman so sehr, weil er genau wie Band 1 durch seine sehr humorvolle Art auch schlechte Situationen aufheitern kann. Dann auch die Tiefe der Charaktere und die Sicht aus mehreren Personen. Des Weiteren hatte es mir auch die Charakter Entwicklung angetan wie aus den einst schwierigen und Schüchternen Mona ein Selbstbewusstere und Stärke Mona wurden und wie sich die Beziehungen untereinander verknüpften und verzweigten zum Beispiel die Liebe zwischen Balthasar und Mona oder Ben-Ben. Dann Natürlich aber auch die Mega krasse Story die mit so viel bedacht und Überlegung geknüpft und geplant wurde, wo man sich immer wieder so gut hineinversetzen konnte ohne irgendwelche Plot Löcher zu finden oder Probleme zu haben es mit Band 1 zu verknüpfen. Auch das Problem Bewältigen der Charaktere war wunderbar für die Seele. Und zum Schluss natürlich auch die Wunderbare Autorin die dieses Buch und auch die ganze Reihe mit viel Herzblut und Schweiß zum Leben erweckte.

Also Mein Fazit zum Buch ist das…

Dieses Buch ist die Perfekte Fortsetzung zu Band 1 man konnte perfekt anschließen und verstand auch den Hintergrund von bestimmten Informationen oder Verhaltensweisen aus Band 1. Die Charaktere entwickelten sich und veränderten ihren Charakter um sich besser auf einander abzustimmen. Dieses Buch spielte auch sehr gut mit der Wokeness, weil es halt nicht toxische masculinity gab und Charaktere Nett waren und sich wie Menschen verhielten. Des Weiteren gab es auch den perfekten Abgleich von traurigen, glücklichen und erotischen Momenten so das für jede Emotion was dabei war. Dieses Buch ist perfekt in jeder möglichen Weise und deshalb ein danke an dich @kritzelpixel

Twitter von Honeyball: @kritzelpixel

Twitch von Honeyball: @Honeyball

[octaviacarouzellauteure]

Noir Absolu est enfin disponible en entier sur Neovel 

https://fr.neovel.io/book/14901/FR/noir-absolu-tome-1-lascm

[dmhope]

Le CRI - Lune Rouge pour Alex

Le teaser  de mon roman est sorti ! Vous pouvez partager et me donner votre avis en commentaire !

[amaliazeichnerin]

Buchcover Reveal „A Kind of Demon“ von Simon Rhys Beck, einen Urban Fantasy Roman, durfte ich testlesen und auch wenn das nicht die finale Fassung ist, kann ich schon mal so viel sagen: Ich konnte dieses Manuskript kaum aus der Hand legen, was mir mittlerweile nicht mehr so oft mit Büchern passiert. Ich mag die beiden Hauptfiguren, einen Dämon und einen Engel, sehr. Ihre Abenteuer lasen sich für mich wie eine emotionale Achterbahnfahrt. Ein sehr empfehlenswertes Buch. 🤩Die Veröffentlichung ist für den März geplant, zur Leipziger Buchmesse. Der Roman erscheint im Dead Soft Verlag. Das Buchcoverdesign ist von DaylinArt.

[thenightfolknetwork]

There's a bit of a taboo amongst my genus. I mean, I can't know for sure about the whole population, but certainly in my family there are rules about what is and isn't appropriate to do when we exercise temporal fluidity. And that's for good reason--I get that. You can't just go about changing the tides of war because you feel like showing off your historical foreknowledge. Fine.

Recently, though, I've been spending a lot of my time in one particular period--just about a half-decade on the other side of 0 AD. It's been great! I'm a bit of a Classicist, and a Latinist at that, so obviously there's plenty for me to do in Rome. The food is good, the literature is fascinating, and the people--well, I've certainly met some people. Specifically, there's this one guy. He's older, for sure, but we're both adults and happy with what we have. It's hardly an exclusive relationship, so we don't get bored with stagnation, and not to brag, but his achievements are nothing to scoff at. In fact, not too long ago he put down the remnants of a veritable civil war over in Hispania. My interest in this period has been primarily academic in the past, but I feel like he and I really get each other. I know how he takes his wine and his sense of humor and how he feels about his family. I care about him.

But here's the thing: I know he dies. Soon. And quite violently. I've just gotten back to the twenty-first century recently for a family reunion, so of course "soon" is relative, but back in Rome there isn't much time left. I haven't spoken about this to my family. I know what they'd say. I should just let it happen.

Although, I mean, should I really? Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but I know for a fact Great-Grandma Margaret wasn't as rule-abiding as my mother likes to think--it's hardly a secret where (more accurately, when) she met Great-Nana Bonny. And, plus, lots of historical scholarship on the subject says, if my Roman friend hadn't died when he had, it probably would've happened sooner or later in a similar manner anyway (his approval ratings are not so high as of late). So is it really an interference if I warn him just this once? I mean, if he dies in another incident somewhere down the line--one of which I have no previous knowledge--then, fine, he dies. This isn't about preventing his death entirely. I understand that, in many ways, he is already dead. But I feel I would be a horrible companion if I didn't at least give him a heads-up. Just a nudge, you know? It's a politically unstable time back in the BC's. The line between this temporal reality and the other is so thin, and the difference is so small. Would my "interference" be so bad?

[Note: The sender later clarified that their letter ought to read "half century on the other side of 0 AD" where it here reads "half decade".]

I'm afraid I can't give you the kind of answer you seem to be seeking here, reader. While I am perfectly happy to help you talk through you moral quandaries, I must draw the line at making your decisions for you. You, and you alone, must discern for yourself whether or not such an act aligns with your own personal, moral code.

If an outside perspective will help, I will say that I'm not sure I entirely agree with your assessment of the circumstances here. I believe I have enough historical knowledge to infer which figure in history you're speaking about, which is, in itself, a concern.

It is a fact of existence that we shape the world around us. Even the quietest, most innocuous life casts its shadow. It is a fact to be embraced and celebrated – there is simply no such thing as an insignificant life. But neither is anything served by pretending that certain figures do not cast rather longer shadows than others.

It is one thing to consider fudging a timeline or two for the sake of someone whose impact reaches no further than their own village, or even their own country. It is quite another to speak of altering the timeline of a person whose existence left ripples across the surface of a significant portion of the globe!

I also don't necessarily agree with your assessment that your interference would not change anything very dramatically. Your friend's “approval rating” may not be great, but I am not at all sure it is universally accepted among historians that either his demise nor the manner in which he met his fate were inevitable.

Finally, you must consider the old paradox faced by every time traveller at some stage or another. You are an actor in this historical period, casting a shadow of your own, and you have no more idea than anyone else how that shadow may fall.

How do you know your warning might not precipitate the event itself? Alternatively, how can you be sure your warning is not already part and parcel of our historical reality? There is just such a warning made in most of the accounts I know, after all – if I am thinking of the right person, of course.

I cannot make this decision for you, reader. I cannot tell you what the right answer is, or even reassure you that there is a right answer. All I can do is to encourage you to think carefully about the risks involved, weigh them against your own moral judgement, and make sure that, whatever your choice, it's one you can live with. At the end of the day, that's all any of us can do.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[thereadingcafe]

[lou-wilham]

This one is for those who wanted more Mab. 👀👀

No relationship is perfect but these soulmates definitely started off on the wrong foot in Of Love & Ruin. See how mutual dislike changes as they learn more about one another in Of Hope & Blight.

Sometimes, love finds you anyway. Burned by her first love, Mab has spent the last several years content with her brother, their club, and her Miami beach front property. The last thing she wants, or needs, is for the arrow cast by Erotes—god of love—to rear its ugly head. But trouble disrupts Mab’s hard-earned peace in the form of a dead inanimi washed up on her private beach. Not wanting to disturb Ander and his newfound bliss, Mab calls the only person she can think of—Quintus Schields. Life for Quin used to be simple. Second in command to his brother Maximus, Quin has always been a hardworking and dedicated creature of few words. He wants nothing to do with the owners of Inferno or their drama. Especially with his new responsibilities as caregiver to an ignis youngling. So, when Mab Duchan asks for help, he has to decide if he wants to keep his world as is, or accept there might be more to life than he expected. As Miami’s criminal underground returns to sink its claws into them, Fate forces the four to face old demons, and question just what they’re willing to do for happiness.

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[somethingcoolhopefully]

Are you a history student looking for a political thriller with a dash of dangerous romance and endless twists? Read: