I like to read
Non-bookposting: @Tak@glitch.taks.garden
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Two years ago, Csorwe and Shuthmili defied the wizard Belthandros Sethennai and stole his gauntlets. …
To live a mortal life is to yearn for completeness, and there is nothing in mortal life which satisfies that particular hunger.
Two years ago, Csorwe and Shuthmili defied the wizard Belthandros Sethennai and stole his gauntlets. …
Niranthos had some kind of dire administration job in the Citadel
The most fearsome summon: Dire Administrator
Two years ago, Csorwe and Shuthmili defied the wizard Belthandros Sethennai and stole his gauntlets. …
You might describe Csorwe as wiry but only in the sense that a steel cable is technically a wire
Shuthmili was a grown woman, and didn’t have a crypt to escape into.
Give 👏 grown 👏 women 👏 crypts
It's been twenty years and two election cycles since "Information," a powerful search engine monopoly, …
Currently on sale at Kobo: wandering.shop/@older/109706894307305724
He must have swabbed up old age, like a sponge, by touching too many old books.
Same, but with computers
Content warning spoiler
One was missing a tusk altogether, making his face look oddly lopsided, half formed. Csorwe felt a twinge of sympathy, trying not to imagine how it must have felt to lose one.
That foreshadowing
I'm sure I read The Fall of the House of Usher at some point, but I didn't retain enough that I had any particular expectations for the direction of the plot, etc.
However, I did read Mexican Gothic relatively recently, so I spent a good deal of What Moves the Dead, once the overall shape of the story became apparent, nodding along and waiting for the characters to catch up - it gave me a chuckle to see the reference to Mexican Gothic in the author's note.
Great writing, an intriguing reimagination of the classic.
A Frenchwoman once told me that I had no poetry in my soul. I recited a dirty limerick to her, and she threw a lemon at my head. Paris is a marvelous city.
I offered Denton my hand, because Americans will shake hands with the table if you don’t stop them.
Very few ancient crypts have plump shepherdesses and gamboling sheep on the walls. I consider this an oversight.
Look, if you don’t make a fool of yourself over animals, at least in private, you aren’t to be trusted.
She was tall and broad and had a gigantic hat that made her even taller and broader.
For some reason, I instantly visualized Lady Dimitrescu
The mushroom’s gills were the deep-red color of severed muscle, the almost-violet shade that contrasts so dreadfully with the pale pink of viscera.
