#it's not As noticeable in this excerpt but from the CE's point of view

[gloriousmonsters]

i’m the same anon who had the knee-jerk capslock malfunction. i realize it’s probably kinda cheap of me to be like “literally talk about whatever original work u want!!!!”. so to do the meme/challenge properly and pick one……..I’ve actually been MOST curious about Heart Hands Bone. just given some of the stuff you’ve reblogged that really resonates.

but seriously, i wanna hear about whatever original work(s) you’re feeling unhinged about rn!!!!

I'm always happy for the excuse to bring up HHB :D honestly now that I think about it, it probably would be useful to write up little 'this is what that project is' posts I can link to when I talk about them. table that for now.

Heart Hands Bone takes place in a town built over the remains of an ill-understood network of fungal and flesh 'brain' that, once upon a time, took the form of a fairy-tale forest above ground. It's all that's left of a narrota bestia, a creature that fed off narrative and granted miracles, and the town above it is split uneasily between tourism that sells a sanitized museum of its past and the people still caught in the Forest's threads; the cursed, the blessed, the transformed.

Katinka is a new resident, but feels closer to 'fairytown' than she does the modern world. When the chance to save a life presents itself, she does what old-school virtue dictates, and trades her own life for another; but just as she's resigned herself to an inglorious role in a bloody fairy tale, she's pulled into a much stranger one.

The Child-Eater is the last of his kind; the scion of an ancient mother, he never saw the Forest in its glory, but he still believes in its power. Indignant at Katinka facing death for an act of kindness, he saves her life and entangles her in a story he's convinced isn't really about him; it's about the man he loves with a passion that's made him uneasy with his current role. Hal Anselm, the 'prince', the enigmatic and unstable heir of a royal family descended from Snow White. The setting has changed, but their power has not, nor the bloody and jealous hold they keep on the most treasured relics of the Forest--Snow White's bones.

But through the years, five have slipped through their fingers. The Child-Eater has discovered the location of four, embedded in the dying Forest's last strongholds of story. When he gives Hal the information, the cursed prince is happy to invite the two of them along on his quest--and Katinka, despite herself, follows her conflicted sense of honor and her own fascination with the prince into a fairy tale made of fairy tales.

...Man, I need to whittle that blurb down somehow, but there's a lot going on in this one, y'know? Anyway. Excerpt.

Solvania’s house crouched like a toad in the shadows of the river bridge. The west end of town, fairytown as some humans called it, for how it was thick with the remnants of fairy tales, boasted many houseless inhabitants, but none of them took advantage of the bridge’s shelter--Solvania’s house exuded decay, long-toothed bitterness. In the old days, if the fire was lit, it would have smelled like baking bread due to the flour in the bricks; these days, it smelled like mold and rot.

The only other people that came there, aside from the child-eater, were occasional bandits barging in to use the oven or other kitchen equipment. He loathed them--still thought longingly about the death of the one that had put a nick in his good cleaver--but in a way, he had to be glad of their crass manners. If the Bandit King hadn’t barged into his kitchen once, commenting cheerfully on the bones he was trying to clean and commandeering the use of his small knives--a favor from one cannibal to another, let’s call it--he would never have seen Her bone.

A tooth, rattling around in that cheap plastic locket the King wore like a prize. Just in its presence, the child-eater’s stomach ached and the gut-trees grown to two or three feet down near the river started singing, rubbing their branches together in the wind. He’d sat on the floor staring, barely aware of the bandits jeering at him in between their business of cutting a girl up on his table, until the Bandit King noticed, and laughed.

“In love with Snow?” he’d asked, dangling the locket from his fingers. “I can’t blame you.”

That wasn’t quite accurate. The child-eater did love Snow--as he loved the Gallows God, an encompassing, reverent love that seemed to fill the ugly, rotten hole Solvania had hollowed out inside of him over the years. Twin lanterns in the darkness. But he wasn’t in love with her; such things were beyond a creature like him, even if he aspired to them.

And what he felt, in that moment, wasn’t about love. There was reverence, yes, but mostly there was excitement. Fervent, wild hope. He’d already heard rumors of three bones, after diligent searching, but to have one so close to his grasp--this, he could take to the prince with an easy mind.

[mormonmonastery]

So, What’s Up with Joseph Smith Matthew?

Joseph Smith Matthew is an excerpt from Joseph Smith’s Inspired Version of the Bible or the “Joseph Smith Translation.” “Translation” is kind of a misnomer for the project, at least if we’re working with any common form of the word “translation.” Smith wasn’t working from any original text, Hebrew or Greek; he was revising passages from the King James translation, which is clearest in JST revisions that attempt to resolve problematic readings that only exist in how the KJV renders the passage into English. In addition, he was adding some original content that fleshed out the Bible, which is best seen in the portion of the translation that we publish as the Book of Moses: things like Moses’ vision of God, Adam and Eve offering sacrifices and being baptized, everything about Enoch who’s just an intriguing blip in original flavor Genesis. In their own way, these added narratives are also attempts to solve perceived problems with the Bible as available--if we follow the traditional (and wrong) assumption that Moses wrote the Torah, how would he know about what happens in Genesis? if Cain kills Abel over sacrifices, why did they know to practice sacrifices anyway? if Enoch was so righteous that he got a whole city sent to heaven, don’t we deserve to know what his whole deal was? 

In this way, the Joseph Smith Translation is a lot closer to the Jewish practice of midrash, a rich and century-old practice that’s probably most easily described as “bible fanfic and fanon.” Midrash is the original No-Prize: it’s about spotting things in the Biblical text that don’t make sense or could be explained a lot better and then having the faith to try and furnish that explanation. Compilations of midrash will often include different and even conflicting explanations, which shows that the scripture is still open to interpretation and that the conversation about each passage is ongoing. What Joseph Smith was doing with his inspired version of the Bible is so much closer to midrash than it is to the idea that Smith was furnishing an “uncorrupted” version of some original text. Indeed, the notion that we should view the JST as a direct restoration of some mythical original version of the Bible (an anthology cobbled together over hundreds of years and a situation where the concept of an “original version” is basically nonsensical) prevents us from pursuing the spirit of midrash and interpretation ourselves, which is the most useful lesson we can possibly get from Smith’s efforts here: that it is worth our time to try and figure out what’s going on in the scriptures. The JST can be a roadmap for us, pointing out problem spots that we should pay attention to and offering its own guesses for us to consider. But if we read it as an end-all-be-all, we’re really missing its whole point.

So: what was the problem Jospeh Smith found in Matthew 24 that required him to extensively revise the entire chapter before it made sense to him? It’s in verse 34 of the original, after Jesus has talked about both his second coming and the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem: 

Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass, till all these things be fulfilled.

The Second Temple was destroyed in 70 CE by the Romans. That counts as a major prophecy delivered and fulfilled. But, in case you haven’t noticed, the second coming didn’t happen in 70 CE, or during the lifetime of original disciples. Turns out it hasn’t happened at all yet. Passages like Matthew 24:34 gave early Christians the expectation that Jesus would be back fairly soon--Paul even addresses some saints who are freaking out because other Christians have died before the second coming and they weren’t expecting that. But interpreting that verse in the most straightforward way clearly didn’t cohere with the facts. Was there another way to interpret the chapter so it’s prophecy was more accurate?

What Joseph Smith Matthew does then is take one possible interpretation of Matthew 24 that resolves this problem and make it explicit. The first major change is at verse four of JSM and it more clearly splits the question that the disciples ask into two questions: 

KJV: And as he sat upon the mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying, Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?

JSM: And as he sat upon the Mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying: Tell us when shall these things be which thou hast said concerning the destruction of the temple, and the Jews; and what is the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world, or the destruction of the wicked, which is the end of the world?

Remember that Jesus begins the chapter by pronouncing a doom on the temple, so “these things” is easily read as “the destruction of the temple” even in the King James. But the JSM chooses to gloss it clearly as “the destruction of the temple and the Jews” and shuffles everything else to what is unambiguously its own clause and not an explication of “these things,” a reading that is possible in the KJV. It also tosses in the interesting eschatological assertion that the end of the world (or, in a more accurate translation of the underlying Greek word aeon, the end of the age or the end of this life) is equivalent to “the destruction of the wicked,” which I think is a really intriguing and useful idea.

The JSM then proceeds to shuffle the verses focused more on the second coming around so that they are clearly separated from those detailing the destruction of the second temple. It’s easiest to see what’s been changed and moved around in this handy redline (courtesy of Sam Brunson) which strikes out what’s been removed from the King James and underlines what’s been added by Joseph Smith.  This serves to drive home a point that I think exists in the original text but is underlined in bold in the JSM: if anyone tells you that Christ has come back while the temple is being destroyed, don’t believe them; when Christ’s return in glory happens, you’ll definitely know it’s happening (compare Matthew 24: 23-27 with JSM 1:21-26). 

The JSM also corrects that pesky verse 34: now “this generation in which these things shall be shown forth, shall not pass away until all I have told you shall be fulfilled” (JSM 1:38) Tribulation and famine and wars and rumors of wars and earthquakes and the abomination of desolation will all happen again at some future time as a sign of the second coming and the prophecy only includes generation that witnesses those signs. It’s a little inelegant, but it’s an attempt to reinforce that there are two different timelines going on here (destruction of the temple and the second coming of Christ), which is itself a viable reading of the text as originally presented. Joseph Smith is working off the assumption that this reading is the correct one and presenting a gloss of the text where that reading is used to tie up all the loose ends in the chapter. It’s one possible answer and it should be an aid to us as we wrestle with this passage and work with the Holy Ghost to come up with our own answers about it. 

[mothergamerwriter]

Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) by Emily A. Duncan | Blog Tour Review & Excerpt

      Hello bookland! Welcome to Mother/Gamer/Writer for the Wicked Saints Blog Tour. For today’s tour stop, please enjoy my review of this magically delicious and bloody tale, an excerpt from the novel, and an awesome pronunciation guide!

      I received this book for free from the mentioned source in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book nor the content of my review.

Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan Series: Something Dark and Holy #1 Published by: Wednesday Books on April 2nd 2019 Genres: Fantasy, Magic, YA, Romance Pages: 400 Format: ARC Source: ARC From Publisher, Blog Tour View on: Goodreads Grab it: Amazon Review Score:

About the Book:

When Nadya prays to the gods, they listen, and magic flows through her veins. For nearly a century the Kalyazi have been locked in a deadly holy war with Tranavian heretics, and her power is the only thing that is a match for the enemy’s blood magic. But when the Travanian High Prince, and his army invade the monastery she is hiding in, instead of saving her people, Nadya is forced to flee the only home she’s ever known, leaving it in flames behind her, and vengeance in her heart.

As night falls, she chooses to defy her gods and forge a dangerous alliance with a pair of refugees and their Tranavian blood mage leader, a beautiful, broken boy who deserted his homeland after witnessing his blood cult commit unthinkable monstrosities. The plan? Assassinate the king and stop the war.

But when they discover a nefarious conspiracy that goes beyond their two countries, everything Nadya believes is thrown into question, including her budding feelings for her new partner. Someone has been harvesting blood mages for a dark purpose, experimenting with combining Tranavian blood magic with the Kalyazi’s divine one. In order to save her people, Nadya must now decide whether to trust the High Prince – her country’s enemy – or the beautiful boy with powers that may ignite something far worse than the war they’re trying to end.

        “You could be exactly what these countries need to stop their fighting,” he said. He dropped his hand and she was colder for its absence. “Or you could rip them apart at the seams.”

    Magical, dark, and wicked, Wicked Saints is a courageous novel set in a Russian inspired land where nothing is as it seems.

  Nadya is a cleric, raised in the old ways and able to communicate with not only one god, but all gods. Her magic is deadly powerful and just as difficult to control as the gods she speaks with through her prayer beads who guide and protect the world. Within the first few pages, we are launched into the brutal attack on the monastery where Nadya was raised. Her people are dying at the hands of Crown Prince Serefin, a vicious blood mage and war general sent to capture her and her power. Nadya along with Anna, an ordained priestess, flees the chaos only to run into a group of rebels who have secrets of their own. Among them, Nadya finds their leader Malachiasz is also a blood mage who defected from his group of Vultures, sinister monsters who destroy everything in their path. After their meeting, it becomes a wicked game life or death and maybe love.

  Wicked Saints was easy to devour. Honestly, I was seventy percent through the book before I realized I had become immersed in the tale. Emily A. Duncan charms readers with her lush imagination. Her descriptions of snow and ice and stone make it easy for one to lose themselves in Nadya’s world. The religious war at the helm of it all inspires readers to question right and wrong, what they are taught versus what is and what can be. Personally, I loved the combination of religion and religion based magic. It made what happened to Nadya all the more real and personal. With such a complex magical system, Duncan does a great job of blurring the gray area between the two. Is blood magic all bad? Is using the god’s gifts all good? You will have to read Wicked Saints to find out!

  Overall, I recommend it for fans of diverse characters, those that love awe-inspiring worlds, and those that crave something a little dark and bloody in their reading pile.

    My Rating

                  4 N A D E Z H D A L A P T E V A

    Horz stole the stars and the heavens out from underneath Myesta’s control, and for that she has never forgiven him. For where can the moons rest if not the heavens?

—Codex of the Divine, 5:26

    “It’s certainly not my fault you chose a child who sleeps so deeply. If she dies it will very much be your fault, not mine.”

Startled by bickering gods was not Nadya’s preferred method of being woken up. She rolled to her feet in the dark, moving automatically. It took her eyes a few seconds to catch up with the rest of her body.

Shut up!

It wasn’t wise to tell the gods to shut up, but it was too late now. A feeling of amused disdain flowed through her, but neither of the gods spoke again. She realized it was Horz, the god of the heavens and the stars, who had woken her. He had a tendency to be obnoxious but generally left Nadya alone, as a rule.

Usually only a single god communed with their chosen cleric. There once had been a cleric named Kseniya Mirokhina who was gifted with unnatural marksmanship by Devonya, the goddess of the hunt. And Veceslav had chosen a cleric of his own, long ago, but their name was lost to history, and he re- fused to talk about them. The recorded histories never spoke of clerics who could hear more than one god. That Nadya communed with the entire pantheon was a rarity the priests who trained her could not explain.

There was a chance older, more primordial gods existed, ones that had long since given up watch of the world and left it in the care of the others. But no one knew for sure. Of the twenty known gods, however, carvings and paintings depicted their human forms, though no one knew what they actually looked like. No cleric throughout history had ever looked upon the faces of the gods. No saint, nor priest.

Each had their own power and magic they could bestow upon Nadya, and while some were forthcoming, others were not. She had never spoken to the goddess of the moons, Myesta. She wasn’t even sure what manner of power the goddess would give, if she so chose.

And though she could commune with many gods, it was impossible to forget just who had chosen her for this fate: Marzenya, the goddess of death and magic, who expected complete dedication.

Indistinct voices murmured in the dark. She and Anna had found a secluded place within a copse of thick pine trees to set up their tent, but it no longer felt safe. Nadya slid a voryen from underneath her bedroll and nudged Anna awake.

She moved to the mouth of the tent, grasping at her beads, a prayer already forming on her lips, smoky symbols trailing from her mouth. She could see the blurry impressions of figures in the darkness, far off in the distance. It was hard to judge the number, two? Five? Ten? Her heart sped at the possibility that a company of Tranavians were already on her trail.

Anna drew up beside her. Nadya’s grip on her voryen tightened, but she kept still. If they hadn’t seen their tent yet, she could keep them from noticing it entirely.

But Anna’s hand clasped her forearm.

“Wait,” she whispered, her breath frosting out before her in the cold. She pointed to a dark spot just off to the side of the group.

Nadya pressed her thumb against Bozidarka’s bead and her eyesight sharpened until she could see as clearly as if it were day. It took effort to shove aside the immediate, paralyzing fear as her suspicions were confirmed and Tranavian uniforms be- came clear. It wasn’t a full company. In fact, they looked rather ragged. Perhaps they had split off and lost their way.

More interesting, though, was the boy with a crossbow silently aiming into the heart of the group.

“We can get away before they notice,” Anna said.

Nadya almost agreed, almost slipped her voryen back into its sheath, but just then, the boy fired and the trees erupted into chaos. Nadya wasn’t willing to use an innocent’s life as a distraction for her own cowardice. Not again.

Even as Anna protested, Nadya let a prayer form fully in her mind, hand clutching at Horz’s bead on her necklace and its constellation of stars. Symbols fell from her lips like glowing glimmers of smoke and every star in the sky winked out.

Well, that was more extreme than I intended, Nadya thought with a wince. I should’ve known better than to ask Horz for any- thing.

She could hear cursing as the world plunged into darkness.

Anna sighed in exasperation beside her.

“Just stay back,” she hissed as she moved confidently through the dark.

“Nadya . . .” Anna’s groan was soft.

It took more focus to send a third prayer to Bozetjeh. It was hard to catch Bozetjeh on a good day; the god of speed was notoriously slow to answer prayers. But she managed to snag his attention and received a spell allowing her to move as fast as the vicious Kalyazin wind.

Her initial count had been wrong; there were six Tranavians now scattering into the forest. The boy dropped his crossbow with a bewildered look up into the sky, startling when Nadya touched his shoulder.

There was no way he could see in this darkness, but she could. When he whirled, a curved sword in his hand, Nadya sidestepped. His swing went wide and she shoved him in the direction of a fleeing Tranavian, anticipating their collision.

“Find the rest,” Marzenya hissed. “Kill them all.” Complete and total dedication.

She caught up to one of the figures, stabbing her voryen into his skull just underneath his ear.

Not so difficult this time, she thought. But the knowledge was a distant thing.

Blood sprayed, splattering a second Tranavian, who cried out in alarm. Before the second man could figure out what had happened to his companion, she lashed out her heel, catching him squarely on the jaw and knocking him off his feet. She slit his throat.

Three more. They couldn’t have moved far. Nadya took up Bozidarka’s bead again. The goddess of vision revealed where the last Tranavians were located. The boy with the sword had managed to kill two in the dark. Nadya couldn’t actually see the last one, just felt him nearby, very much alive.

Something slammed into Nadya’s back and suddenly the chilling bite of a blade was pressed against her throat. The boy appeared in front of her, his crossbow back in his hands, thank- fully not pointed at Nadya. It was clear he could only barely see her. He wasn’t Kalyazi, but Akolan.

A fair number of Akolans had taken advantage of the war between their neighbors, hiring out their swords for profit on both sides. They were known for favoring Tranavia simply because of the warmer climate. It was rare to find a creature of the desert willingly stumbling through Kalyazin’s snow.

He spoke a fluid string of words she didn’t understand. His posture was languid, as if he hadn’t nearly been torn to pieces by blood mages. The blade against Nadya’s throat pressed harder. A colder voice responded to him, the foreign language scratched uncomfortably at her ears.

Nadya only knew the three primary languages of Kalyazin and passing Tranavian. If she wasn’t going to be able to communicate with them . . .

The boy said something else and Nadya heard the girl sigh before she felt the blade slip away. “What’s a little Kalyazi assassin doing out in the middle of the mountains?” he asked, switching to perfect Kalyazi.

Nadya was very aware of the boy’s friend at her back. “I could ask the same of you.”

She shifted Bozidarka’s spell, sharpening her vision further. The boy had skin like molten bronze and long hair with gold chains threaded through his loose curls.

He grinned.

    Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) by Emily A. Duncan | Blog Tour Review & Excerpt was originally published on Mother/Gamer/Writer