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lightning-of-farosh · 9 months

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To the Stars #2

AU: small Hyrule, adult Legend I couldn't tell you if this was the first or second iteration. I just know that the title of the doc is "good and loved"

There was a kid digging next to the road. Mud stained his arms, stopping near the elbow, and his too-big sleeves threatened to roll down from his biceps. Dirt was smeared across his cheeks, not able to hide his dark eyes or messy, leaf filled brown hair.

A sword longer than his arm was strapped to his back, covered by an oval-ish dented shield.

Link ducked down behind a tree and watched as he dug and dug and dug.

No other travellers passed by; no merchants to peddle their wares, no postmen to deliver news. Flowers had grown around the edges of the worn dirt, peeking through where wheels and feet had once treaded.

Empty. Abandoned.

Except for the kid.

Birds sung in the trees, small animals darted through the bushes, and Link breathed in. There was a dull, bitter taste of fading charcoal on the air that turned into something physical deep in his lungs. Almost as though it was trying to weigh him down, to keep him there, chained to this place.

(All he had done was walk through a swirling portal. All he had done was run from Zelda’s disappointment and the watching eyes of the kingdom and the smell of rabbit in his home.)

Link shifted his weight.

Dead leaves crackled beneath his heel. The birds fell silent and he pressed himself against the tree, not daring to breathe as the boy’s head shot up, searching the shadows of the woods with frantic, bolting eyes.

One was blackened around the edges, fading from purple to green to yellow and matched a jagged, scabbed over cut that lined the kid's jaw. His fingers, darkened by fresh dirt, reached for the pommel of his sword as he tilted his head to the side and listened.

Hylia, Link cursed because the child was small. Smaller than he had been when he'd first heard Zelda in his dreams and set out to fight Ganon. What is he? Five?

The birds returned one by one, and Link watched as fingers released the pommel of the sword and returned to their task. They scooped up dirt faster than before, pushing it to the side bit by bit. It was like watching a badger; except tiny, child hands couldn't get quite as much traction as massive claws.

Only when he was half buried in a hole did he stop, tugging something up and out.

It looked like a wooden box of some sort, except the wood had warped from the rain and it was tied together with twine. The child hoisted it under his arm and got to his feet, not bothering to brush the earth off his ripped up knees and bruised calves.

His tunic, Link thought, looked familiar. It was green over brown, just like his old one before he had replaced it with red over green and his long, blue hat.

Just like that of the hero, some traitorous voice whispered in the back of his head. It sounded like Impa.

Link scowled. Shut up, he told her and stepped out from behind the tree. "Hey! Hey kid!"

Carved wood, painted blue and shimmering with magic sigils, appeared in the child's hand. It sang as it headed towards Link's head and he cursed, ducking beneath the boomerang and staying low as it whirled around in a tight semicircle to come back.

Dark eyes were narrowed and the kid caught the boomerang like he was used to it. Like he had depended on it.

A perfect throw.

Swallowing down the heaviness in the back of his throat, Link tried to grin as he straightened. It felt too faux, so he let it drop. "Hey, look, I—"

"It's mine," the kid said.

Link blinked. "What—"

Holding the box close to his side, the kid lifted his scraped chin and glared at Link. "It's mine," his tone refused to waver even as he backed towards the trees. "I found it."

"I, well," Link blinked. "Not gonna lie, kid, I don't really want it—"

Dark eyes narrowed even more, searching Link's face. They paused, briefly, on the streak of pink in blonde hair. The boomerang faltered.

Link held up his hands, stepping further away from the tree and into the light, but off to the side. He didn't want to get closer—not really. Not yet.

"What are you doing here?" The kid backed up so he was on the edge of the woods. Light trickled through the leaves, casting a mask of shadows across his features. There was a tinge of something in his words, an accent Link couldn't quite place even though the voice was rough from disuse.

"I got lost."

Fingers tightened, eyes darted up the road, and pointed ears stood up straighter to catch every sound that rustled through the trees. He looked like a deer, trapped in the open, hoping that nothing would come out of the darkness with open jaws and bloody teeth.

"No," the kid said, taking a step back, "you didn't."

Link scowled. "Yeah," he said, "I did; I'm actually really good at it. Which sucks for me but is—apparently—good for everyone else."

Nails were digging into the wood of the boomerang, but the kid hadn't moved. He just watched with wide eyes.

A frog croaked and fled deeper into the woods.

"Look," Link sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. "Just point me in the direction of the nearest town and I'll leave you alone, alright?"

The kid tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. He bit his torn, dry bottom lip that had already been abused many times in the past, and pointed his boomerang towards a towering mountain in the distance. "That way," he said.

Link stared at the mountain top. "You mean, like, at the base—?"

Snorting, the kid gave him a sour, but confused, look. "No," he said, "on the other side."

On the—

"What," Link spat, more in shock than anything. "Are you serious? The other side?"

The kid blinked, the tense muscles along his jaw going slack as he stared at Link.

"Are you kidding me?"

A boomerang hit him on the shoulder and Link winced, rubbing at the bruise it would no doubt leave behind. He turned to its owner, opening his mouth to give him a piece of his mind, but stopped at the sight of bone white knuckles and colour fading beneath smeared dirt.

"You're so loud," the kid hissed, gaze overly bright as he searched the woods. "Are you trying to be found?"

"Found? Found by what—"

Birds burst from the distant trees, cawing as they fled to the sky.

Both of them turned to look. Nothing moved in the spaces between the trees; no birds, no beasts, no monsters.

The kid glanced back at Link, looking over his red tunic, the pack on his back, and sword strapped to his waist. His hands were shaking, brown eyes darting around as he thought before focusing back on a pair of blue.

"Come on," he said, motioning towards the darkness of the woods.

Link stepped out onto the road to cross and felt as if something had taken hold of his stomach. It was like stepping into the Dark World all over again, except the sun was high in the sky and no howling beasts waited for him around every corner. "What—"

Darting across the open space, the kid snatched him by the wrist and yanked him to the other side, tugging him into the underbrush past the newly dug hole in the ground.

Wood crunched under Link's heel and he looked down.

It was a grave marker.

oOo

They travelled silently, slipping around a lake that had sneering, snarling creatures slipping below the water's surface. Link was able to make out red fins and green scales before he was tugged away back into the trees.

Octoroks littered the area, spitting rocks at any sign of movement, and he let himself be guided through faded deer trails and the spaces between towering tree trunks until the forests gave way to copper-green rock formations.

"So, kid," Link crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the small figure inspected the paths leading through the odd valley, easily squeezing past rocks to peek over the edges. "How old are you?"

Looking over his shoulder, the kid scowled. "Why?"

"Well, I mean," Link shrugged. "It's hard to place my fate in someone who's five, you know?"

"I'm not five."

Link's brow rose. "Okay, not five," he said, "six?"

The kid dropped from his look out, shot Link a nasty glare, and worked his way over to one of the many boulders.

"Seven? Eight?"

Cheeks pink, shoulders hunched, the child dug a crimson bracelet out of the folds of his over-sized tunic and fitted it around his wrist. It easily slid over the whole of his hand and looked as though it would fall off at any second.

His silence was cold and heavy as he stepped up to a boulder, braced his hands against the side, and pushed. It was bigger than he was—but that didn't matter.

What mattered was the glistening in his gaze and the way his body seemed to crumple beneath each question.

Link's teasing grin faded as something darker pooled in his stomach. "Hey, wait, kid."

Rock groaned and rolled to the side, revealing waiting darkness.

Reaching out, Link placed his hand on a bony shoulder. Something thick and bitter made a home in the back of his throat as something that felt remarkably like pain clawed at his chest. "Do you know how old you are?"

The kid looked up at him, caught between horrific youth and desperate maturity. "No," he admitted.

Link pulled his hand as if it had been burned. He flexed his fingers and couldn't decide whether he should laugh or cry. Where's your family? He wanted to ask, what happened to your parents? What happened to you?

The kid nodded towards the darkness. "Come on," he said, not looking up at Link's heavy gaze. "It's dangerous to stay out in the open too long."

Swallowing his questions, Link stepped down into the dark and waited as the grunts of a child and the grumbling of stone echoed across the tunnel. A sliver of sunlight peered through a tiny opening left behind, but flame sputtered to life and the kid held up a candle.

It wasn't enough to banish the darkness, but it was enough that Link didn't trip over the cracks in hastily carved stairs. A cavern waited at the bottom with two stone bowls filled with charred wood. They lit easily and the candle hissed as it was blown out.

A bed made of tied together logs sat in the furthest corner from the entrance. Next to it, leaning against the wall, was a ladder made out of warped sticks that glistened in the dim firelight, the shadows along the side darkened from where it had been charred by harsh, hungry flames. One of the rungs had broken off and dangled off the edge, not yet repaired and possibly resolute to the rest of its days like that.

It made a good place to hold a quiver and bow, however, and that was exactly what the kid had used it for.

A small, wooden boomerang sticking out from a book, halfway through the pages, and was joined by some vials, and a good amount of round, fist sized bombs piled up together because there was nowhere else to put them.

Link turned to the kid.

He was poking the flames with a broken stick, a deep, thoughtful frown marring his features.

“You live here?”

The kid shrugged. "Now," he said.

"Now?"

"Yeah. Someone else lived here first."

"What happened to them?"

Dark eyes glanced over at him and turned back to their task. "Dunno. He was here and then he wasn't."

Link exhaled. That was something for later, he figured, not bothering to try and pick apart the meaning behind... that. Instead, he frowned at the sight of the dirt crusted box still under the kid's arm. "So," his voice was full of forced casualness, "what's up with that?"

The stick was tossed into the fire and the kid hugged his prize to his chest. "It's mine," he said, firelight glinting off his wide eyes, making him look wild and young and more hunter than prey.

"Yes," Link said patiently. "We've covered that—but why did you dig it up?"

The kid looked down at it, tilted his head to the side, and turned his attention back to Link. "Because I wanted it," he told Link with the same patience.

"You—" Link leaned his weight back on his heels and counted to ten. "You just wanted it?"

"Yeah."

Hylia help me. "You can't just—look, okay. Kid. Robbing graves isn't good."

Fingers tightened around the box. "Why not?" The kid said, tone sharp. "They're not going to use it; they're dead."

Link inhaled. "Yes," he said, "but—"

"What use is anything to the dead? They're dead. They're not coming back."

“Okay, that’s true, but how would you feel if someone took your stuff when you died? Just stole everything?”

The kid shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said, turned away physically from the conversation. “They’d need it more than me anyway.”

"That's—" Link closed his eyes. "Okay," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say."

The hunter expression melted away and the kid sat down on the dirt floor, picking at the twine wrapped around the box. He tensed and stopped when Link came close, but continued after a few, long seconds.

They both waited with baited breath as the lid opened and Link frowned. There were needles and thread, a small, half finished doll, and quite a few buttons of various colours.

"Oh," he said, "It's a sewing kit."

"A what?”

Link leaned over the kid’s shoulder, examining the wound up measuring tape and a small container full of pins. “It’s used for making and repairing clothing.”

"Oh," the kid picked up a spool of brown thread and looked over the rips in his tunic. "Do you know how to... uh—"

"Sew?"

"Yeah."

Link frowned. "It's been a while," he admitted, "but I can teach you the basics, sure."He held his hands out for the box.

The kid flinched away, grasping the wood with mud stained fingers, digging his nails into the grain. His expression was torn between want and fear as his shoulders shook.

“Okay,” Link said, pulling his hands back. “Why don’t you, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck and looked around at the collection of stuff that littered the cave.

Had he dug all this up?

“How about this,” Link said, “you keep hold of the rest of the box and I’ll just use what I need, okay?”

The kid frowned, looking down at the colours he held in his hands. He peeked out from beneath his filthy bangs. "You won't take it?"

"Nah, kid," Link sat down beside him with an amused huff and rested his hands on his knees. "It's all yours. Promise."

An inhale. A sigh. Trembling hands lowered the box to the floor between them and released it one finger at a time. "Okay," the kid said, "show me?"

Link pulled one of his old tunics from his pack. It was green and brown, just like the kid's, with a similar stitching pattern around the collar. He talked through it, using as much of the firelight as he could while the child inched closer and closer.

Curiosity overwhelmed fear until small hands rested on his legs and the kid had braced himself over Link's lap to watch his fingers. He smelled of earth and metal, of salt water and ash and there were layers upon layers of dried mud caked into his skin.

Fire crackled, burning on until the tips of his fingers stung from needle pricks and holding the thin metal. “Would you like to try?” Link offered the thread and tunic to the kid.

He took them both and stared at the half-done work Link had already completed before looking up helplessly.

Link laughed and reached out his hand. “Come on,” he said, motioning for the kid to come closer. “Don’t worry—I’ll show you. It’s like this—” taking child hands in his own, he guided their movements. “In, over, out, over, see? You got it.”

The kid hunched over the tunic in his lap, tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth, the fabric almost brushing his nose he was so close to the stitching, but he worked with careful, steady hands. The thread wasn’t quite even, but it was good enough.

“See?” Link said, showing him how to tighten it so there was just a small seam left behind. “There you go!”

Running his fingers over the once ripped tunic, the kid looked up at Legend with wide eyes, and smiled.

#Linked Universe #legend linked universe #hyrule linked universe #Fabulist tales #i'm gonna have to go back through and correct all these tags at some point

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charlesmoffat · 1 year

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#fable speaks #fablehaven #fables and reflections #fabulism #fabulist #fairy tales

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 2 months

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Introducing the biggest losers & winners of 2023

Biggest Losers: Then there’s Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, who saw their multimillion-dollar woe-is-me shtick run dry, during what South Park dubbed their “World-Wide Privacy Tour.” Squandering overwhelming American goodwill with fabulist tales of car chases through Manhattan and incessant whining in Harry’s “Spare” memoir and on their Netflix series, they were dropped by Spotify and donations to their Archwell foundation have fallen by $11 million from last year. Here’s to a quiet 2024 from the House of Sussex 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Grifters: small scale swindlers

Tom Bower stated that the Suckit🍋 Couple regularly asks around for FREE housing accommodations, FREE transportation (private planes), and even FREE MEALS!!

HOW embarrassing!🤦‍♂️

#Suckits 🍋 2023 Biggest Losers #Markled #megxit #meghan markle #spare us #like a spare #worldwide privacy tour #south park #markled #grifters gonna grift #small scale swindlers #fake royals #no self respect #tom bower #revenge

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nancydrewwouldnever · 5 months

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Why are we rewarding sociopaths and grifters in politics with biopics???? They do not need further attention!

#random musings

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random-brushstrokes · 1 year

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Edwin Henry Landseer - The Cat's Paw (ca. 1824)

In Jean de La Fontaine's seventeenth-century fable, which this painting illustrates, a cunning monkey persuades a cat to retrieve roasting chestnuts from a fire. The term "cat's paw," meaning a person unwittingly duped by another, derives from this tale.

Numerous engraved and painted precedents for the brutality of Landseer's interpretation existed in the work of seventeenth-century Dutch and British illustrators of La Fontaine. The fabulist's symbolic use of animals to describe the tribulations of human existence became popular among nineteenth-century romantic painters and satirists. (source)

#edwin henry landseer #british art #animals in art #1820s

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saintmeghanmarkle · 4 months

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Bad day at the NY Post for the Harkles. Money for the puff pieces must have run out.

Today they have an expert stating the obvious - the headline is H & M need KC more than he needs them. Further down they are listed again as whiny losers who squandered "overwhelming American goodwill with fabulist tales of car chases and incessant whining...." and also "saw their multimillion dollar woe-is-me schtick run dry" with their South Park episode.

I guess we will get another lame article manifesting an IG account to counter this.

post link

author: jones29876

submitted: December 28, 2023 at 02:35PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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saywhat-politics · 1 year

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New little details about serial fabulist Rep. George Santos’ (R-NY) tall tales keep crawling out of the muck, and updated campaign finance reports have brought us an amusing tidbit about the Devolder Organization LLC, which he claimed managed more than $80 million in assets on a previous version of his campaign website.

#new york #republican #congressman #george santos

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justanaspiringsomeone · 10 months

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Moon Fabulist (A Kingdom Hearts/Touchstarved AU)

"A scattered dream that's like a far-off memory. A far-off memory that's like a scattered dream. I want to line the pieces up—a story for you and me, tonight."

It’s post KH 3 but Sora ends up in the touchstarved universe and ends up as a Hunter for soulless

Yes the quote is from KH2 but i like it so it’s staying

my idea for Sora in this is

he's not exactly a ghost per say, like he's able to touch people, talk to them, eat etc

but like something is off about him

and it reaches a peak specifically on the full moon

he gets more wispy and floaty, like a kindred spirit almost

obv more serious than ever but still mischievous and goodhearted despite it

he dances in the moonlight, telling stories mostly to himself about a hero on various adventures, with magic flourishing around him for visual effect

Sora just in a dramatic cloak with a silver lion mask saying that is such a vibe tho

With the moonlight shining down on him too

A person bordering between humanity and the ethereal mystery of the supernatural

Sora has two sides people see

this more fantastical, storyteller version of himself that people see at night on full moons

or this quiet, mysterious, and efficient hunter named Arslan

And covers his face up so he can work in peace and people don’t question his age (cuz at the least I assume Leander would not hire an actual teenager to be a hunter)

Arslan is the Hunter persona Sora takes

Acts ‘grown up’ but prob does a lot of things like playing with kids, talking to people on the streets, etc.

Pre quiet while working but otherwise listens to others worries and whatnot

The Moon Fabulist

That name is prob something the people give Sora

Since he started telling tales randomly on the full moon and it’s just been routine since

Dynamics are also different

He knows all the LIs, is close with them and has his own personal insight on them

Clearly letting on he knows more than he's sharing

Close to all of them, save for Vere on basis of disliking him

With Leander, Sora says he admires his willingness to serve the people, but feels as if he’s lost his way in pursuit

With Ais, Sora beams and explains Ais is a trustworthy and loyal person, a great sparring partner as well

With Mhin, Sora once again beams at the mention of them, holding them in high regard. Admits they’re rough but he can tell they’re not mean just for the sake of it. He wishes they didn’t always start conflict with Ais though…

Kuras, Sora respects and owes much, pointing him to Leander to get him a job. He also reminds Sora of his old mentor, though not nearly so pretty.

Vere is the only one Sora makes a face at, explaining that Vere’s only redeeming quality is that he’s shameless in everything he does. Including mocking Sora every chance he gets.

With that, Sora then explains that he feels the MC might be able to turn the tides of what may happen within Eridia, then smiles at them

He hopes he can be of assistance on their journey or if not, give them a tale to soothe them

Sora is not a LI, but you can deepen your relationship with him if you choose to go for him

He's a friend interest

#crossover #kingdom hearts #KH 1 #KH 2 #KH 3 #kh crossover #kh sora #touchstarved vn #touchstarved game #touchstarved #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #kh au #kingdom hearts au #kingdom hearts sora #dynamics

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vrisbian · 1 year

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Whats interesting for me, and I wonder if it will matter-

Mother Goose is a completely fictional character, that serves as the Author Character. Meaning they are the presumed narrator of the tales and within the fiction they are the authorial voice. Tim is a character just as much as they all are, with added power.

Scheherazade is a fictional character that is also an Author Character. It is within her legend that she is made the collector and author of stories, she becomes the presumed narrator of 1001 Nights and the stories exist within her story- so to give her time to survive and for her Sultan to ultimately fall for her. Shes a character.

Aesop is a bit more complex. He has a recorded birth and death date. Stories are credited to him as a storyteller and fabulist. Philosophers talk about him as a real guy, though probably false biographies of his life were made. He is a mythic figure whose so intertwined with his stories and legend- but could be real- honestly moreso than Homer, but possibly just as fictional an author who was given credit for oral tales written down.

But with all this talk of The Real Authors, and what they can do, Aesop stands out. With Aesop’s realm still being ok… did this Real Author manage to immortalize himself as a Fictional Author?

#neverafter spoilers #neverafter speculation #neverafter aesop #neverafter tim #update: nevermind watched AP and I know brennan wouldnt but like still would be interesting #the myth analysis chart where history becomes legend

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bad-puns-and-even-worse-magic · 2 months

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another fic! don't worry the Sanctum Santorum is a perfectly normal, ordinary building. Nothing odd about it at all. ha.

Warnings: I mean, it's light horror. Nothing stronger than that.

You can read it here

#Fabulist tales #Doctor Strange #Stephen Strange

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lightning-of-farosh · 9 months

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The Tale of a Martyr

something something about how this was gonna be about the struggle of having bad habits born from toxic environments. There was a lot (about 10K to this) but my mental state was not good when i was writing it and it shows. SO! PG version!

“You have a bedroll, don’t you?”

Link—Hyrule, he reminded himself, they’re going to call you Hyrule so you should get used to it—looked up from his pack. “Huh?”

“A bedroll,” Legend said again, not looking up from where he was spreading his own makeshift bedding across his claimed patch of grass. “You have one, right?”

“Um,” Hoisting up his pack, Hyrule opened it the barest amount and shifted through the contents. Hammer, flute, the handy glove, two of those healing dolls, that weird cross, magic key, candle... Pink rose on the back of his neck and he dug further; past tightly bundled blankets, a box of matches, and—finally—“Yes!” He yanked it from the pack and held it out as if presenting it to the other hero. “I have a bedroll.”

It was covered in lint, crumbs, and dried mud.

Legend’s nose wrinkled at the faint, musty smell that reeked from the cloth. “Have you ever used it?” He said, a faint crackle of a harmless snarl on the edges of his teeth.

“What?”

“Forget it,” Legend shook his head and pointed in the direction of the river. “You should probably wash it to make sure nothing’s growing in it.”

Hyrule looked between his pack now lying at his feet, at the bedroll in his hands, and back at the rest setting up their things.

“Oh for—go,” Legend took him by the elbow and nudged him towards the river. “I’ll watch your stuff.”

(He might have nudged his things closer to the other hero. Legend was kind enough to look at the ratty sack with raised eyebrows but said nothing.)

Foreign birds sung in the trees, reminding him of things that were long gone. A wind that didn’t reek of dark magic and rot made his skin feel raspberry-tender. Hyrule kept looking behind to track where the camp had been and to make sure that this world—this vibrant and bright and alive world—wasn’t swallowed up when he wasn’t looking.

Here was a place untouched by ultraviolet silence.

Here was a place that didn’t have hair-thin fractures in every single one of its bones.

Hyrule paused at the edge of the river and saw an image of himself that was broken not by decay but by fish scales and riverbed pebbles. He set his bedroll to the side and pressed his palm into the water.

It felt cool against his skin, soothing away the aches in his knuckles. “Oh,” he said, laughed, and—in a moment of pure curiosity—sucked it off his fingers.

The water tasted like how the rain felt against his face, like standing on top of the ocean, like the wind and the earth and like nothing at all. Hyrule sat on the bank of the river and put his feet in. His boots turned into distorted versions of themselves and he stuck his hand beneath the surface to trace their edges with his equally warped hand.

Fish darted away from his shadow, fleeing to deeper waters.

The river snuck into his boots, weighing down his socks and squishing between his toes. Ah, Hyrule thought with the same type of absent remembrance as oh, fire is hot.

He undid his laces, dumped what he could out of the now thoroughly soaked boots, and tossed them and his socks to the side. Cold rushed between his toes and climbed up his ankles. It brushed over the calluses of long-healed blisters and cracked skin.

And was perfect.

Hyrule stood up and almost ended up face first in the mud as slime-slick rocks yanked on his balance. Some broad billed bird made an indignant honking sound at his clumsy splashing and took to the sky. He watched it flutter further downstream and grinned, kicking out and creating a miniature wave in its direction.

Laughter spilled from beyond the trees and he glanced back towards the campsite.

There, still sitting on the bank was his dusty, stained bedroll.

Hyrule looked down at the clear, gurgling water around his ankles.

His sigh was heavy.

#Linked Universe #hyrule linked universe #legend linked universe #fabulist tales #hmmmMM #hmmm.

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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AAPI Authors: Fantasy Picks to Check out

A Thousand Steps into Night by Traci Chee

In the realm of Awara, where gods, monsters, and humans exist side by side, Miuko is an ordinary girl resigned to a safe, if uneventful, existence as an innkeeper’s daughter. But when Miuko is cursed and begins to transform into a demon with a deadly touch, she embarks on a quest to reverse the curse and return to her normal life. Aided by a thieving magpie spirit and continuously thwarted by a demon prince, Miuko must outfox tricksters, escape demon hunters, and negotiate with feral gods if she wants to make it home again. But with her transformation comes power and freedom she never even dreamed of, and she’ll have to decide if saving her soul is worth trying to cram herself back into an ordinary life that no longer fits her… and perhaps never did.

A Magic Steeped in Poison by Judy I. Lin

I used to look at my hands with pride. Now all I can think is, "These are the hands that buried my mother." For Ning, the only thing worse than losing her mother is knowing that it's her own fault. She was the one who unknowingly brewed the poison tea that killed her—the poison tea that now threatens to also take her sister, Shu. When Ning hears of a competition to find the kingdom's greatest shennong-shi—masters of the ancient and magical art of tea-making—she travels to the imperial city to compete. The winner will receive a favor from the princess, which may be Ning's only chance to save her sister's life. But between the backstabbing competitors, bloody court politics, and a mysterious (and handsome) boy with a shocking secret, Ning might actually be the one in more danger.

Gods of Want: Stories by K-Ming Chang

In “Auntland,” a steady stream of aunts adjust to American life by sneaking surreptitious kisses from women at temple, buying tubs of vanilla ice cream to prepare for citizenship tests, and hatching plans to name their daughter “Dog.” In “The Chorus of Dead Cousins,” ghost-cousins cross space, seas, and skies to haunt their live-cousin, wife to a storm-chaser. In “Xífù,” a mother-in-law tortures a wife in increasingly unsuccessful attempts to rid the house of her. In “Mariela,” two girls explore one another’s bodies for the first time in the belly of a plastic shark while in “Virginia Slims,” a woman from a cigarette ad comes to life. And in “Resident Aliens,” a former slaughterhouse serves as a residence to a series of widows, each harboring her own calamitous secrets. With each tale, K-Ming Chang gives us her own take on a surrealism that mixes myth and migration, corporeality and ghostliness, queerness and the quotidian. Stunningly told in her feminist fabulist style, these are uncanny stories peeling back greater questions of power and memory.

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The people suffer under the centuries-long rule of the Moon Throne. The royal family—the despotic emperor and his monstrous sons, the Three Terrors—hold the countryside in their choking grip. They bleed the land and oppress the citizens with the frightful powers they inherited from the god locked under their palace. But that god cannot be contained forever. With the aid of Jun, a guard broken by his guilt-stricken past, and Keema, an outcast fighting for his future, the god escapes from her royal captivity and flees from her own children, the triplet Terrors who would drag her back to her unholy prison. And so it is that she embarks with her young companions on a five-day pilgrimage in search of freedom—and a way to end the Moon Throne forever. The journey ahead will be more dangerous than any of them could have imagined. Both a sweeping adventure story and an intimate exploration of identity, legacy, and belonging, The Spear Cuts Through Water is an ambitious and profound saga that will transport and transform you—and is like nothing you’ve ever read before.

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