#its neat to see the differences it has from my own religion

[jenoutof10]

its a cathedral guys

the entrance was FIRE 🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️ cool stairs and there were like carvings on the ceiling. it was hot out so the air conditioning was super nice when i came in, AND THE MUSIC WAS KINDA ECHOING SO IT WAS SO EPIC. also the stairs had like "this is the house of god; the gate of heaven - genesis smth smth" ... so cool

the part where the adults sit is so neat tbh, its like a giant formal concert hall. but i didnt participate there i went to the teen program instead, and OH MY GODDDDD THERE WAS SO MUCH SINGING SO MUCH SINGINGGGGGGGGG

overall like p nice but i spaced out for the entire time the youth pastor was telling stories or wtv, there were parts which felt like a cult to me, and i was kinda disappointed they didnt give out like free biscuits or smth.

[novelconcepts]

There’s a line from American Gods I keep coming back to in relation to Yellowjackets, an observation made early on by Shadow in prison: “The kind of behavior that works in a specialized environment, such as prison, can fail to work and in fact become harmful when used outside such an environment.” I keep rotating it in my head in thinking about the six survivors, the roles they occupy in the wilderness, and the way the show depicts them as adults in society.

Because in the wilderness, as in prison, they’re trapped—they’re suffering, they’re traumatized, they’re terrified—but they’re also able to construct very specific boxes to live in. And, in a way, that might make it easier. Cut away the fat, narrow the story down to its base arc. You are no longer the complex young woman who weighs a moral compass before acting. You no longer have the luxury of asking questions. You are a survivor. You have only to get to the next day.

Shauna: the scribe. Lottie: the prophet. Van: the acolyte. Taissa: the skeptic. Misty: the knight. Natalie: the queen. Neat, orderly, the bricks of a new kind of society. And it works in the woods; we know this because these six survive. (Add Travis: the hunter, while you’re at it, because he does make it to adulthood).

But then they’re rescued. And it’s not just lost purpose and PTSD they’re dealing with now, but a loss of that intrinsic identity each built in the woods. How do you go home again? How do you rejoin a so-called civilized world, where all the violence is restricted to a soccer field, to an argument, to your own nightmares?

How does the scribe, the one who wrote it all out in black and white to make sense of the horrors, cope with a world that would actively reject her story? She locks that story away. But she can’t stop turning it over in her head. She can’t forget the details. They’re waiting around every corner. In the husband beside her in bed. In the child she can’t connect with across the table. In the best friend whose parents draw her in, make her the object of their grief, the friend who lives on in every corner of their hometown. She can’t forget, so she tries so hard to write a different kind of story instead, to fool everyone into seeing the soft maternal mask and not the butcher beneath, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the prophet come back from the religion a desperate group made of her, a group that took her tortured visions, her slipping mental health, and built a hungry need around the very things whittling her down? She builds over the bones. She creates a place out of all that well-intended damage, and she tells herself she’s helping, she’s saving them, she has to save them, because the world is greedy and needs a leader, needs a martyr, needs someone to stand up tall and reassure everyone at the end of the day that they know what’s best. The world, any world, needs someone who will take those blows so the innocent don’t have to. She’s haunted by everyone she didn’t save, by the godhood assigned to her out of misplaced damage, and when the darkness comes knocking again, there is nothing else to do but repeat old rhymes until there is blood on her hands just the same.

How does the acolyte return to a world that cares nothing for the faith of the desperate, the faith that did nothing to save most of her friends, that indeed pushed her to destroy? She runs from it. She dives into things that are safe to believe in, things that rescue lonely girls from rough home lives, things that show a young queer kid there’s still sunshine out there somewhere. She delves into fiction, makes a home inside old stories to which she already knows the endings, coaxes herself away from the belief that damned her and into a cinemascope safety net where the real stuff never has to get in. She teaches herself surface-level interests, she avoids anything she might believe in too deeply, and still she’s dragged back to the place where blood winds up on her hands just the same.

How does the skeptic make peace with the things she knows happened, the things that she did even without meaning to, without realizing? She buries them. She leans hard into a refusal to believe those skeletons could ever crawl back out of the graves she stuffed them into, because belief is in some ways the opposite of control. She doesn’t talk to her wife. She doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not about what’s underneath the surface, because that’s just a mess, so instead she actively discounts the girl she became in the woods. She makes something new, something rational and orderly, someone who can’t fail. She polishes the picture to a shine, and she stands up straight, the model achievement. She goes about her original plan like it was always going to be that way, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the knight exist in a world with no one to serve, no one to protect, no reason propelling the devastating choices she had grown comfortable making? She rechannels it. She convinces herself she’s the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most observant. She convinces herself other people’s mysteries are hers to solve, that she is helping in every single action she takes. She makes a career out of assisting the most fragile, the most helpless souls she can find, and she makes a hobby out of patrolling for crimes to solve, and when a chance comes to strap her armor back on and ride into battle, she rejoices in the return to normalcy. She craves that station as someone needed, someone to rely upon in the darkest of hours, and she winds up with blood on her hands because, in a way, she never left the wilderness at all.

How does the queen keep going without a queendom, without a pack, without people to lead past the horrors of tomorrow? She doesn’t. She simply does not know how. She scrounges for something, anything, that will make her feel connected to the world the way that team did. She moves in and out of a world that rejects trauma, punishes the traumatized, heckles the grieving as a spectacle. She finds comfort in the cohesive ritual of rehabilitation, this place where she gets so close to finding herself again, only to stumble when she opens her eyes and sees she’s alone. All those months feeding and guiding and gripping fast to the fight of making it to another day, and she no longer knows how to rest. How to let go without falling. She no longer wears a crown, and she never wanted it in the first place, so how on earth does she survive a world that doesn’t understand the guilt and shame of being made the centerpiece of a specialized environment you can never explain to anyone else? How, how, how do you survive without winding up with blood on your hands just the same?

All six of these girls found, for better or worse, a place in the woods. All six of them found, for better or worse, a reason to get up the next day. For each other. And then they go home, and even if they all stayed close, stayed friends, it’d still be like stepping out of chains for the first time in years. Where do you go? How do you make small choices when every decision for months was life or death? How do you keep the part of yourself stitched so innately into your survival in a world that would scream to see it? How do you do away with the survivor and still keep going?

They brought it back with them. Of course they did. It was the only way.

[bee-ina-boat]

hello gay people. i mentioned awhile back about a possible concept for a tma au but its mixed with mythology/religion based stuff. i have since finished this chunk of concept/reference art of the Ceaseless Watcher for this au!!!

im dubbing it: The Magnus Mythos!! please talk to me about it i am insane

putting my rambling au nonsense under the readmore!!!!!

edit!!!: new mythos post just dropped :3

alright- bare with me because my thoughts are everywhere lol

random various au information:

the fear entites are instead more general gods, much like those from various mythologies (greek, norse, egyption, etc.) like the eye, rather than an entity that feeds on the fear of being watched, is rather the god of knowledge and sight!

all of the gods have influence over the world, some mortals will devote themselves to one specific god entirely, others will become devout to multiple, and some will simply be neutral among all 14 and live life out as they please.

avatars are mortals who have been blessed with power by the gods while creatures (like mr spider, the not them, etc) are simply beings who have been born into the world by the gods power seeping into it. artifacts are items that have either been blessed/cursed by the gods or avatars, or have been affected by the gods power seeping into the world also.

theres multiple sects, cults, and churches for each god much like how many real life religions have different sects with their own rules and standards. some have beef, others do not.

the gods themselves are entirely morally neutral, they have their own interconnected relationships with eachother, and kind of view mortals as pets in a way, picking favorites and seeing them as of lesser importance in comparison to themselves.

since the gods here arent necessarily evil and theyre actually sentient beings, their titles are changed to be more fitting (the mother of puppets -> the mother of fate as an example)

the story is set in an era resembling the early 1900s because idk. vibes are neat i guess

thats all the basic world building crumbs for now, ill go deeper into it when i have more art and story stuff ready!

for now- heres some actual lore :3c

Jonah magnus is basically eye jesus. thousands of years prior to the start of the story, the eye favored him and he became a messiah of sorts.

the House of Magnus is a church sect of the eye founded in what is now london. but it doesnt operate JUST as a simple church. many sects of the eye devote themselves to gaining knowledge of the world around them and the House of Magnus is no different there. operating with a library, research centre and all. the research not just on history and knowledge, but also the holy and divine. documenting stories that deal with the divine powers and researching cursed/blessed artifacts aswell.

its a common legend that if one tells their story under the eyes watch (either in a church of the eye or directly to an avatar of the eye) that theyll receive good fortune and foresight, and since the House of Magnus has become a well known sect of the eye, many will come far and wide to detail their accounts under its roof

all of this documentation leads down to the Magnus Mythos, a large archive under the church where the written documents are filed, curated and cared for by the head Archivist. as such, the position of Archivist has become a most sacred role among worshippers of the eye comparable to the head of the church itself.

they arent just revered for their care of the mythos (though the devotees of the eye view the care of documented knowledge to be a sacred and ever important responsibility) Theres a prophecy, hand woven by the Mother of Fate herself, one that states an ordinary archivist will one day be gifted by all 14 of the gods and awaken the great change, bringing about a new and blessed age.

but is this newest archivist even ready for such pressure and commitment? and what if the prophecy is more devious than one might think?

oooOOOOoooOO mysterious lore- i know this is heavily self indulgent but i refuse to apologize for that because im havin FUN. if you read all of that just know i love you so much and i hope you liked it ;w; im very excited and ive been working on archivist +archival assistant lore for the past few days and im excited to do art for them ;_;

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Catholic Worldbuilding and the Wizarding World - Headcanons and More

If you've read All That Remains, my Regulus-Black centric work, you'll know I've incorporated Catholicism into my fics since then. The inspiration to incorporate Catholicism came from both @artemisia-black's Lacrimosa and Fiat justitia and her world building in D&D and Pietas, and @green-and-grey-kenaz's And he Drank.

Some caveats before I go on:

These are just headcanons of mine and things I've put into my fics. They work with the world but you don't need to accept them as canon or canon-compliant. Nor am I asking you to do so. I'm just excited to have this list put together of what I've done and the research that went into it.

There are other religions and faiths in the wizarding world. As Britain became more multicultural and diverse, it meant the purebloods and wizarding population did too.

This list is specifically for certain old-school Catholic families, particularly ones like the Blacks.

Catholic HCs and world building in my works:

Old-world pureblood families were Catholic. As the Roman Empire spread, witches and wizards from other areas hopped into Britain and converted Muggles and purebloods alike from paganism to Christianity. Wizarding world Jesus was a wizard; the Resurrection can still hold up as a miracle because no magic can reverse death.

When Hogwarts was founded in about 1000 AD, a chapel was installed inside the school. In my Regulus Black-centric work, I have the chapel and its tabernacle being a personal gift from Pope John XV to Salazar Slytherin in honor of the new school being built. 

Magical Catholic Mass isn’t terribly different from Muggle Catholic Mass. The key difference is that since purebloods/wizarding society tends to be more old-school than Muggles, purebloods never bothered to implement the vernacular changes of Vatican II. They still celebrate Mass in Latin. 

The Pope is always aware of magical Catholics, not unlike the Prime Minister knowing about wizards. There are wizarding bishops and cardinals buried in the catacombs in the Vatican.

Magical Catholics have their own dioceses; they’re bigger, geographically speaking, because there’s a much smaller wizarding population than the general population. 

Pureblood Squibs are sent to monasteries or convents. 

I’ve created several locations like St. Mungo’s to accommodate various parts of wizarding society. St. Mungo was a real Britonnic saint, so all these saints below are also Anglo-Saxon/British and I’ve incorporated them into my worldbuilding, particularly in my current longfic, Supernova. Again, these are all my creations - not actual canon. 

There is a privately-funded pureblood hospital called St. Teilo’s. It’s where purebloods go to avoid being treated by Muggleborn Healers or associating with Muggleborns in general. St. Teilo’s bio page.

I created a day school for pureblood girls called St. Leoba’s. In the context of my fic, Supernova, it’s where a lot of pureblood girls go to school before they go to Hogwarts, whose parents aren’t keen to educate them themselves. St. Leoba’s bio page. 

There is a long-term care home called St. Hugh’s Home for Hopeless Cases. It’s a poorly funded Ministry facility for wizards with long-term illnesses and inmates from Azkaban who have been Kissed. St. Hugh of Lincoln’s bio page.

Purebloods worship at St. Aelred’s Cathedral. St. Aelred of Rievaulx was a real monastic whose abbey is now in ruins in Northumbria. I weave that into my stories by having Muggles see the abbey in ruins, but purebloods can see a proper cathedral and that’s where they have Mass. St. Aelred’s bio page. 

St. Aelred also has an extensive graveyard, complete with private mausoleums for individual families. The Blacks have one of the grandest mausoleums. 

The stained glass windows and art in St. Aelred’s move like photographs and portraits. The crucifix appears to be ‘living’ with blood shining on Christ’s wounds. Purebloods think it’s neat.  

The Statute of Secrecy and the creation of the Church of England were tied together. The CoE was founded in the early 1500s. The Statute of Secrecy went into effect in the late 1600s. The rise in persecution against witches and wizards, particularly from Muggles associating Catholic practices with witchcraft in general, was one of the reasons why the Statute went into effect. As a result, this is one of the other reasons why purebloods are so resentful towards Muggles and Muggleborns, as most of them are Anglicans.

Most pureblood families aren’t necessarily devout. Cultural Christianity/Catholicism is fairly common, but even when it’s cultural, it’s still very much a way for purebloods to wield power, influence, and control. 

Like many Catholics, old-school purebloods really like their relics and/or more ‘gory’ mementos. You may be aware that Catholics venerate (not worship, not adore, more like honoring) relics of dead saints, such as fragments of bone, skin, blood, etc. Given the Black family’s cool collection of blood and other unusual items, it makes sense to me that pureblood Catholics are fully on board with collecting pieces of dead bodies and having their own reliquaries at home. 

The splitting of one’s soul is an act of violence against the sacred. I wrote a meta on Horcruxes and Soul-Splitting; I imagine that the most zealous purebloods would find horcruxes to be outright offensive, not because of the murders involved, but because of the disintegration of the soul. I would also like to highlight this meta written by @artemisia-black and @ashesandhackles, the Importance of the Soul. 

[trevel]

So I'm pretty anti-evangelical (while unfortunately culturally christian) and so I haven't proselytized much about this, but does anyone know I started my own religion? Sort of?

I mean, I've started a couple, because the ideas amuse me, but this one is a simple one that I think could gain traction.

I'm a Pastrian. I call myself the primary potentate of Pastrianism, AKA the Pie Pope. We celebrate pi and pie.

Holy days are three: Pi day (March 14th), Two Pi Day (June 28th), and Approximate Pi Day (July 22nd). The days are celebrated by eating some pie, eating some of two pies, or eating something that is approximately pie.

I also like to do a reading from the digits of pi, which (since pi is infinite and non-repeating) means I can basically say whatever numbers I like and they'll be in there somewhere. (80085 is at position 125937, if anyone is interested)

When I worked at an office, I would buy pies for the office on my holy days. While working from home, I try to bake pie (since my partner is gluten free) but will buy some otherwise. The range of things that I have allowed as "approximately pie" is broad but I consider butter tart squares to be the most appropriate. Cake is also acceptable.

Sometimes I wear the box the pie came in on my head as a hat, because you can't really be a proper pope without a ridiculous hat.

Some would argue that this isn't a religion because it doesn't have a stance about gods. Well, true, I suppose, but it does venerate a fundamental constant of the universe -- something both knowable but unknowable, something infinite, something that makes the universe what it is. It describes planetary motion, electric force in a vacuum, magnetic permeability, particle uncertainty amongst others. It is immortal (in that it cannot be destroyed, only forgotten) and invisible (in that it can not be seen, although it's effects can be see everywhere) and while it might be difficult to describe a number as "wise" it does potentially contain all the knowledge in the universe (see above re: infinite and non-repeating).

I'm just saying, pi is pretty neat. And pie is delicious.

And all it asks of you is to eat pie two-three times a year and think about numbers fondly for a bit.

(Arguably the least religion-ish attibute of Pastrianism is its compatibility -- unlike most other religions, it's possible to be a Pastrian and basically any other religion as well. I'd say all of them, but there's probably a religion that forbids some element of pies (like enjoying food), and I believe there are some christian subgroups that insist on pi being exactly 3. There are also the groups that think Tau is better than Pi, but until they release some confectionery to support their position, I'm sticking with pie)

(Also don't confuse Pastianism -- root of "pastry" -- with pastafarianism -- root of "pasta". These are very different religions with very different practices. We can, I hope, still agree about the deliciousness of Macaroni Pie.)

Also if anyone has suggestions for how to add .14159 of a holiday to the annual rotation, let me know! The closest approximation I've got is celebrating something every seven years.

[galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships]

And when we talk about the state elections we don't say US citizens voted. We say the citizens of that particular state voted. Each state has its own government. Each state has its OWN ELECTION. We just happen to unfortunately share an overall government with the other 49 states and have to vote at large for that election. Look I don't like how much of our election mess is broadcasted everywhere either. I don't even want to see it. I don't know why they think it's important for the rest of the world to watch.

US citizens tend to mush European citizens the same way they tend to mush us. We are all USA citizens yes but we are not all the same.

We also are well aware of the difference between country, state, and continent.

Now if you want to go into the details of culture I'll gladly do so because I've lived in a good deal of this awful country but admittedly mostly in the South Eastern end.

Let's start with Mardi Gras. A celebration unique to Louisiana, parts Mississippi, parts Alabama, parts of Florida, and parts of Texas. And those parts? Literally the bits touching the water or just prone to partying... Or really just close to the Bay area. But largely the bulk of the celebration doesn't leave Louisiana and Alabama. It's also under semi heated debate as to who started it. Mobile, Alabama or New Orleans, Louisiana. If you want family friendly visit any other area than New Orleans. They party HARD for Mardi Gras. They also have the MOST impressive parades though not to mention the traditional green, gold, and purple of the Mardi Gras season came from one of their parades when Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich of Russia visited in 1872.

Each color is symbolic of something. Purple stands for justice, gold stands for power, and green stands for faith.

You want to talk food? We have grits. A staple of the South East that next to no one anywhere else has heard of with the same name. You know what it is? Ground corn meal. Corn originally known as maize to the natives before settlers arrived. Grits are made differently depending on where you eat them. I always grew up eating them with butter, salt, and pepper in them. It's common in some areas to put actual peppers or even shrimp in them. Some people depending on the area will add something sweet to them instead. Good luck finding them in the North or far Western states though! No one will know what you are talking about. The closest they might guess is a type of porridge. Don't even get me started on sweet iced tea. They don't have it. It will be hot. Or it will be bitter and iced. Not both. They look at you as if you've grown a third eye in the middle of your forehead when you ask for it outside of the normal region it's served in.

Both of these are incredibly common things too in the South. Same goes for boiled peanuts.

My family has passed down a recipe for generations not knowing its original name was the three sisters soup and that it was a Native American dish likely originating from either the Choctaw tribe or the Creek tribe. Its ingredients change based on location but as it would turn out most tribes had their own version.

Religiously speaking a neat little thing I learned from my mother is how her ancestors' culture was blended with Baptist Christianity to make what is called a Southern Baptist. A nice way of saying they took the beliefs of the local tribes and twisted them to fit in with the Christian religion. My mom believed to her dying day that cardinals were the souls of loved ones coming to wish you well and that for a lot to visit your house it meant you were going to die soon but you'd have company on the way to heaven.

Each state is affected differently by its history. By which tribes were in the area. By what foods were cooked in the region. By where immigrants settled. If I recall correctly Wisconsin is mostly of Germanic descent and their food tends to reflect that supposedly. I don't know. I'm not from Germany or Wisconsin. I'm from Alabama. We eat jambalaya regularly in our house because we lived in Louisiana. Jambalaya is a dish of Creole/Cajun origin that was heavily influenced by the settlers in the area. Namely, Spanish, African, French, and Caribbean. In fact, a ton of food in Louisiana tends to be spicy because of this. Food in Texas tends to have more of a Hispanic leaning because of the border between Mexico and Texas. It can be spicy and sometimes you might find a place serving boiled cactus. Florida is... Insane. Fried alligator tastes like chicken and I dare you to find anywhere other than the "Deep South" that serves up gator at all. New Englanders tend to have things like clam chowder. Or so I've heard. I've never eaten it but I've been told by a friend that it's bland compared to Southern food.

Heck, I've got a friend in Seattle, Washington (the far North West) sending me her family's traditional Chinese moon cakes in exchange for our traditional Mardi Gras moon pies.

Each state was settled by different groups and had different tribes in the areas.

Conquistadors had Florida for the longest time.

The English had New England (the North Eastern region).

A lot of states like Oregon and Washington had a lot of Chinese settlers from things like the gold rush.

California even has a lot of Chinese culture going on. They have a literal China town in San Francisco, California. Or at least they used to but it's more tourist trap these days.

Just because not everyone knows about or talks about the Kowi Anukasha doesn't mean they aren't a cultural thing for the South Eastern region. Most people just don't know about it anymore because it was sort of blended in and stamped out when settlers took over.

The South doesn't pay any attention at all to hockey but the North loves it.

Look the USA is a mixing pot of culture. It's a big blended batch sure but you can't forget there was already a culture here. Dozens in fact. Would have been more if it wasn't diseases like smallpox. And then more cultures got shipped over and carved out their own niche. Settlers arrived from everywhere. Some moved as large groups and started their own towns that way

There's a town in Texas so heavily influenced by Irish culture that they go absolutely WILD each St. Patrick's day. The whole town has gone crazy over their Irish heritage. They supposedly have an actual piece of the Blarney stone in the middle of the town square.

Some took on more of the culture that was already there or blended it with their own to make something new. Creole and Cajun aren't just races. They're a whole culture. They've got their own languages. Dying out sure. But it's still a language.

If you go to South Dakota you might just find yourself talking to a person from a local tribe. Guess what. They have their own language. Their own traditional foods no one else will have. Because each tribe had its own culture.

Also if you go to South Dakota please stop and see Lady Dignity. She was erected to honor the Lakota and Dakota people. Which one that note- how did you think we got the names North and South Dakota?

Did you know Amish people exist? No joke. They're common in Midwestern states but not the South East. So in certain areas you've got to make sure you don't run over a whole horse and buggy.

Which brings back another thing!

Buggy for the South. Cart for the North. This also applies to the thing you push around in the stores.

Lightning bug for the South East. Firefly for the North West.

I've tripped people up by calling my shoes sneakers or tennis shoes. It's not common to call them that here.

Certainly areas use different words and if can stump you sometimes. Sometimes it's just weird though.

Don't get me started on accents. A Louisiana accent sounds very different from an Alabama accent. Florida sounds different from Alabama despite touching the state. The North end of Alabama sounds different from the South end. ...come to think of it the food is a bit different too. I don't know how to explain the difference though.

Just because all 50 states may have mashed potatoes and gravy as an option for dinner doesn't mean we're all the same.

Not everyone can explain each different state because not everyone has traveled over 5,000 miles or over 8,046 Km in their lives. I have. Cross country trips are a pain. It's 34 hours of straight driving if you don't stop. Not counting traffic.

Now you know what's funny? If settlers hadn't come here and the tribes hadn't been wiped out we'd probably be just as diverse as the continent of Europe when it comes to languages. Sadly, England, France, and Spain very much took over and stamped that out. And after the land was sold in things like the Louisiana Purchase English very much became the dominant language with most native languages dying out. We've still got things like Cajun French though... Somewhere out in the bayous...

one thing I’ve noticed while running an online shop is that Americans never include their country when writing their address.

I don’t mean when filling in online forms, bc that’s obviously a required element. but when emailing me for address changes for orders, they never include a country in the updated address. but I always know the country is the United States of America because literally nobody else around the world would do that.

[fussyspace]

As this is my first review for the SPSFC, I'll explain my process before diving in. I'm going to try to give my thoughts on the covers and blurbs as well as the content of the books, as some people seemed to be interested in this. I'm trying to be as objective as possible in both my ratings and my reviews, but of course some personal variation is bound to creep in somewhere. This is why we have multiple people in our judging team – my views won't necessarily reflect the whole.

I'm reading these all as ebooks to ensure a level playing field, though some are available as audiobooks. It would be particularly difficult to tell how well edited a book is without seeing the words, after all.

Anyway, on to the review.

To Climates Unknown, Arturo Serrano

I'd actually had this one on my wishlist for a while after seeing it (I think) in last year's SPSFC, my eyes immediately caught by 'a world without America'. (Look, I'm sorry guys, it's nothing personal.)

Word count: ~ 93,600

Cover: Nice and professional, does what it needs to do. Makes me curious about these unknown climates. I find the composition satisfying for some reason. The ship also seems reasonably accurate to the Mayflower, to my Plymothian eyes. Having read the book, the tagline doesn't really fit, but I'll explain why when I get to the content.

Blurb: This starts off by saying that the United States were destroyed in 1620. For reasons I'll go into in the content section, that's probably not the best way of phrasing it. The following paragraph clarifies that it was just the Mayflower that went missing, but by this point we've had the idea of 'world without America' cemented twice in our heads. The rest of it sets the stage for some interesting happenings far removed from the events of our timeline.

Vote: I voted Yes to continue at the 30% mark (my personal vote, not necessarily team vote) and carried on to read the full book.

Note: The following review does contain some spoilers. A lot of things happen in the book, so there are many things that remain unspoiled, and I believe I've only mentioned events in detail from the first half of the book, but my memory is patchy enough that I could be wrong. So if you're planning to read the book yourself, be aware before reading on.

Content: There is nothing that stands out more in To Climates Unknown than the fact that it has been meticulously historically researched. The narrative takes us from one relatively minor inflection point through multiple facets of history before reaching its conclusion. Historical figures, events, philosophies, religions... they're scattered in bucketfuls throughout the story.

Unfortunately, committing such a wealth of information to the page doesn't make it any easier to read. The writing style already boasts incredibly long paragraphs and sentences that can be difficult to get on with. At first I thought this might be a deliberate attempt to emulate the style of the period, but given this book stretches almost to the present day, I'm less certain. In any case, coupled with all the historical name dropping, it feels like a bit of a chore to get through, with a nagging feeling you need to google something every time you come across a new name.

The book splits its narrative into several parts, each focussing on a different set of events in its altered timeline and a different collection of characters. This was an incredibly large and diverse collection, from stubborn Mayflower descendants to ambassadors, from teachers to women disguised as eunuchs. I found a character from the ojibwe tribe quite interesting, though explaining they were two-spirit (or words to that effect) felt a little anachronistic given the term was only coined in 1990 with no historical precedent as far as I can tell. Given the use of the wiin pronoun taken from their language, it would have been neat to see the tribe's own terminology used here. But this is more a suggestion than a complaint, about something I have absolutely no expertise in.

The problem, character-wise, is that there are just so many of them, presented in a third-person omniscient point of view that can leave you feeling a little confused when it dips into other characters' brains. (With a more defined narrative voice, perhaps it might have avoided this problem.) By the time you're starting to enjoy their story and appreciate a character, they're gone. It's the next character's turn. It's obvious the book's focus is on the long, overarching story, but this problem also translates to events. Because of the length and scale of the narrative, no event or character is really focussed on long enough to care about. Some events that feel massive are resolved in a single sentence i.e. 'we won the war'. I would have very much liked to spend more time there and see how they won it.

Now we get to what is really the core of an alternative history book: the plausibility of the inflection point and all the events spilling over after it.

This is where To Climates Unknown fell down for me – or at least left me feeling ambivalent. I admit that as I was never quite able to suspend my disbelief, it's possible I found more things implausible than actually are.

At the beginning, it was quite difficult to work out what exactly had changed. The Mayflower hadn't reached its destination, sure. Of course, there were still colonies in America from other countries, but in the first few chapters I didn't spot a clear reference to what had happened over there. I didn't actually notice until several paragraphs into one chapter that the characters were now in America. This came as quite a surprise, given the tagline of 'a world without America'. (The chapter did begin with a location of New Amsterdam, I think, but not everyone knows that's what New York used to be called. This follows a trend of location tags not including a country, which can make it difficult to follow where things are if you don't immediately recognise the name.) 'A world without the United States' might have been more specific to the theme, and 'The United States as we know it never came to be' (or similar) would have been more accurate in the blurb, if less punchy.

The fact that the English pretty much gave up on settling America after the Mayflower disappeared seemed odd to me. It was still a land rich with resources. They still had ships (for a while). But they just let it sit there while everyone else took pieces of it rather than diving back into the race.

The true inflection point – the death of William Adams – had somehow led to no one developing the shipbuilding techniques to easily travel long distances. This supposedly explains the colonisation difficulties. I find it difficult to believe that no one else would have filled the gap. Instead, one empire ends up with submarines (seemingly well enough insulated/heated to travel beneath the arctic sea ice and not freeze everyone). One empire ends up with steam carriages. One empire ends up with airships. Most implausibly of all: at no point in hundreds of years do any of the other empires acquire their opponents' technology. It's like the setup for a game: each empire has their own special unit. In reality, that technology would have spread. Sure, one empire might have better submarines. One might have better airships. But they wouldn't have sole control.

This 'one technology' pony extends to another problem: warfare. Early in the book, one of the empires forms by knocking Britain out of the game... with submarines. But you can't occupy land with submarines. For that, you need troops. The empire had the Scots on board, but it would have been a much more protracted civil war than what seemed to happen, which was waltzing into London and taking out everyone important. I got the same sort of 'rock up with special technology and capture stuff' feel for the rest of the book – a sort of wishful-thinking picture of technology and warfare that extended all the way through to the end. I can't say all the decisions made sense, either. One of the empires wanted to melt both ice caps simply to make travel easier and gain more land by keeping constant fires burning nearby. That's such an incredibly stupid idea that I might put it past a ruler from, say, the 11th century at a (very big) push, but certainly not the 17th. They wouldn't even have needed to if they'd pinched the airship technology. And it's one of those plot lines that feels like it should be huge but just sort of peters out and pops up every now and then later.

Overall, I did find To Climates Unknown interesting and its individual events and characters compelling. I appreciate the sheer amount of research that went into it (including visiting some of the locations, according to the acknowledgements) and I liked the point it ended up making about America to bring the thing full circle. I just didn't find the route it took to get there particularly engaging or believable. Perhaps if it had spent more time in the sunset of the empires rather than their foundation, or split each of its parts into separate books where we could spend more time with the characters and events surrounding them, it would have been more cohesive.

[bregee13]

The 5 Hour Spamton Playlist

It's been many months, and it's finally complete enough to share (though I might add more later). And yup, you read that right, it's just over 5 hours long.

I even decided to order it for some reason. So if you're able to listen to the whole thing in order, that's appreciated! Though it's not required of course.

But either way, I hope this playlist drives you up the wall as much as it did to me.

Anyway I'm gonna put a bunch of commentary under the read more. (This thing has been sitting around in my library for almost a year, since a week or two after the chapter 2 release!!!, I have every right to be annoying about it)

(I was originally going to comment on every other thing on the playlist, but then I got overwhelmed lol. Still keeping some of what I wrote. Might elaborate more on some things later idk. )

(Hope y'all like it!)

I tried to keep the Spamton songs in the same order as the soundtrack. In fact, the whole playlist is roughly organized based on those songs! I guess you could say each section has its own themes.

Imagine. You start the playlist eager to hear what bs was added to it. You listen to HEY EVERY !, and then it ends. Everything's quiet. And then "BWAH BWAH WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT-"

I've seen people add Mamma Mia and Dancing Queen to Spamton playlists, which is neat, but ngl Ring Ring and I'm a Marionette fit way better. And they're both really good.

I like to think I Get Around and Outside represent the very beginning of the bigshot era

But Telephone by Red Vox feels like it'd be from a lot later than that. Like someone looking back at the past with regret. And seeing a loss of independence and control.

Y'know, with the perspective constantly changing between different points in Spamtons story, it sorta reminds me of Death of a Salesman. Except not as good.

Anyway Spamton brings us back to the present. Even if it's just for a moment.

GAS GAS GAS I'M GONNA STEP ON THE GAS (surprised how few playlists used these tbh)

Ok ok I know Business Man has nothing to do with Spamton aside from the title, but it's goofy and gives levels of suspicion that felt relevant >:)

I Really, Really, Really Like This Image comes off as a convo between Spamton and Gaster for some reason, and I really really really like that image in my head. Also Jevil is there at the end (ps the image is an image of an egg 😊)

I'm not sure if I can properly explain It's Still Rock and Roll To Me. Pre-bigshot era? Early bigshot era? Idk. It just feels like Spamton to me. Actually Billy Joel music in general seems to fit imo. Can't explain why. Just does.

Haha All Star hehehe!!! Oh DAng it's a cool place and they say it gets colder??? Snowgrave reference??????

I hope when you hear Doin it Right, you know what I WANTED to put there...

At first Baby Hotline felt like me inserting it for the heck of it, but the more I listen to it in the context of Spamton, it fits more. Being put on hold (literally as well as metaphorically), the implications of suicide/suicidal thoughts. There's also kind of an implication of someone rooting for Spamton to improve. (Which would probably be the player, but who knows)

Ngl Promised You A Miracle is a song I stole from my Mirror Man playlist. And it's not the only one. They both share themes of religion/heaven, changing your appearance to be perfect, becoming god/superior to others, and being seen and respected.

Easy Money is a late addition. I couldn't not add it. It's good.

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A

Temporary Secretary

(But seriously, can we agree that Temporary Secretary is definitely a Spamton song? It feels scummy, unsafe, DESPERATE, and dare I say unhinged. )

Cars by Gary Numan. That's all I have to say. It's cars. Spam man likes cars!

When adding Hanging On The Telephone, I had to choose between the Blondie version and the one by The Nerves. I chose the Blondie version. It was gayer.

OuiOui's First Crime was added because Peepy's Theme didn't fully capture how much people wanna baby this middle aged puppet. Also It's OuiOuis First Crime specifically to still show that as much as people love this guy, he isn't as innocent/nice as we sometimes want to make him out to be. He's scamming and killing people! Good for him!!!

Don't You Want Me is another song stolen from the Mirror Man playlist. I like to think in perspective of Spamton, this song has multiple layers. It's about Spamton actually being seen as someone important for once, him asking for reassurance that people want him, and threatening them if they don't. It's about Spamton getting more successful because of Gaster/Mike and wanting independence from them, causing his downfall. It's about teaming up with Kris to become BIG at the expense of Kris and potentially everyone in cybercity. It's about Spamton wanting the player to like and pity him. There's probably more connections that could be made than that even!

I'm too overwhelmed to comment too much more atm, but please know that at a certain point of making this and listening to it over and over trying get the order right, I momentarily mentally turned into Chris McLean from Total Drama. I will not elaborate lmao

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

Will you do a Steve Rogers x M!Reader? I think it'd be cool if Steve realizes he has an attraction men, but since he's from a different time. It'd be neat to see him think something is wrong with him, and the reader helps him come to terms with his sexuality (could it be set in the 40s too ^_^?)

A/n: Thank you for the request, it was fun to write! I wrote the internalized homophobia based on my own experiences with it, if anyone is experiencing that, just know that you are loved, valid and amazing and I am so proud of you.

Tags: @mack-thedork

Plot: Requested

Pairing: Pre serum Steve Rogers x Male reader

Y/n: Your name

L/n: Last name

E/c: Eye color

N/n: Nickname

Warnings: internalized homophobia, gay awakening, depiction of homophobia, arguing, Bucky’s a good friend, all the characters are gay tbh, cussing, mentions of death and war, hate crime, religion is mentioned a lot because it’s the 40’s, I don’t know shit about religion

Word count: 1820

Life had never been easy for Steven Grant Rogers; from the moment he was conceived all odds were put against him. He was born early, a plethora of health issues causing his already frail body to strain itself. His pops passed away overseas, fighting in the first world was. His ma had to raise him all alone, which couldn’t be easy with a son who got sick at a drop of a hat and had a habit of getting into back ally fights.

The small man was blessed with two things in life, and that was his two best friends, Bucky Barnes and Y/n L/n. The trio was thick as thieves, always having one another’s backs, no matter the situation.

On a number of occasions, the two bigger men had to pull Steve out of fights, either kicking the other men’s asses or getting them to back off by pure intimidation.

The two men were frightening, Bucky with pure muscle and height, and Y/n had an aura that just dared you to fuck with him. There was only once the two men had lost a fight, and what had happened that caused the fight was unknown to Steve.

Neither of the men spoke of it as the iced their aching bruises, Bucky looked livid, while Y/n just had this haunted and broken look shining in his E/c eyes.

Steve couldn’t describe the concern that swelled in his chest at seeing his friend look so defeated, he just wanted to wrap his feeble arms around the boy and make any of his worries disappear.

That had transpired a little over a year ago, and the times had changed. They were now living in a world where another world war was raging, fear a common thing to see lurking on people’s faces.

When his two best friends mentioned enlisting, he felt his stomach clench painfully, causing nausea to swell in his throat. All his mind could flash to was Y/n laying still in middle of an active battle zone, his eyes glazed over with the look of death.

He was worried about Bucky as well of course, but none in the same way. With Bucky it was like worrying about a brother, but with Y/n it was like worrying about a… like a lover. It was a realization that punched him in the gut, thoughts of disgust immediately swelling within him. The thoughts plagued him for weeks, the disgust in himself intensifying the more he thought about it.

Y/n was another man, the thought alone was not only a sin, but disgraceful. Never had Steve been so disgusted in himself. How could he feel that way about another man? He was a disgusting and sinful creature who would burn in hell just for thinking about Y/n in such a way.

He couldn’t imagine how his friends would react if they found out what he was feeling, they’d shun him without letting the small man defend himself. These thoughts were like a whirlwind, destroying everything in its path as Steve sunk deep into his thoughts. He didn’t notice as the man of his affections took a seat beside him, eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The familiar Brooklyn draw tore him from the self-deprecating thoughts, the blondes head snapping up in an instant. His heart seized in his chest, his mouth opening and closing for a few beats.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing.” Steve assured, though his horrible lying didn’t fool the larger man for a second.

“C’mon Stevie, talk to me.” Y/n leaned closer, the familiar smell of his cheap cologne filling his senses.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve changed the subject, eyes anywhere but the other man. The three shared an apartment, and he could instantly tell the brunette wasn’t there. He couldn’t hear him cursing like a sailor somewhere within the confines of wood and concrete.

“He picked up another shift at the docks, now stop stalling. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Steve cursed silently at his body as his heart fluttered at the subtle compliment. Steve sat silently for a few moments, his eyebrows pulling together with frustration.

“What do you think about two men being together?” The question left his lips before he could stop it, cheeks flushing red with both embarrassment and horror. The other man let out a puff of air, leaning back against the rickety couch.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He replied, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “If two fellas love each other, then they love each other. Gender be damned.” Y/n said this as if it was the simplest thing in the world, it baffled him.

“You don’t think it’s wrong or disgusting?” Steve cringed at how angry his voice sounded; he didn’t mean to project his anger onto his friend.

“Not at all Steven.” Oh, shit he said his full name, Y/n was either hurt or pissed. “Nothing wrong with loving who you love. Do you think it’s disgusting?” Despite his friends’ anger, Steve could pick up on the hesitance and insecurity in his voice.

Steve opened and closed his mouth once more, to baffled to come up with a response.

“Because if you do, hate to break it to ya Stevie.” The once endearing nickname was practically spat out. “You find one of your best friends disgusting.” At this point Y/n had stood up, face contorted with anger.

For a second Steve was shocked, and the stupidest question had to leave his lips. “Wait Y/n, do you like fellas?”

Y/n let out a sound of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. “Yes Steve. I like fellas. Is that an issue?” Steve could read his friend like a book and could practically feel his anxiety.

“I…” Steve needed to collect his thoughts before he replied, he didn’t want to piss of the male even more. “I think I like fellas too.” His stomach twisted as he confessed, the disgust rolling through him once more.

In an instant his friend’s behavior changed, from being angry and defensive to concerned and comforting.

“Oh Stevie…” Two simple words and it brought all of Steve’s walls crumbling down, his figure curling in on itself.

“Am I gonna go to Hell N/n?” His voice was full of self-loathing and fear, but for a split second as he felt Y/n’s arm wrap around him protectively, those feelings didn’t seem as hard to bear.

“Absolutely not Steve, if anyone’s getting into Heaven, that’s gonna be you.” Y/n’s fingers ran over his clothed skin soothingly, causing the frail man to melt against him.

“If anyone is going to Hell, it’s the assholes who shame us, and make us scared to be ourselves, who hurt us for just existing.” Steve sniffled pathetically, looking up at his friend.

“Who hurt us?” He questioned, throat feeling tight with unshed tears. A soft sigh left the E/c eyed boys’ lips, face scrunching up into a look of pain.

“Remember last year when Buck and I came home looking like we got hit by a bus?” Steve made a sound to confirm he did in fact remember, seeing Y/n hurt like that made him sick to his stomach.

“Well Buck had taken me to a bar, specifically for people like us. Some guys had been there, and their intentions weren’t good Steve. Jumped us on the way home. Thought they were gonna kill us, honestly. If it wasn’t for Buck, I’d probably be dead.” He let out a humorless and bitter laugh, eyes full of unspeakable pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve questioned lightly, his hand going to the other man’s knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Cause Buck took me there to try and get over you.” Another humorless laugh left his lips, making Steve’s heart clench. “Didn’t work either.” Y/n breathed out, as if it was an unbearable weight off his chest.

In a moment of bravery Steve spoke up. “What if I didn’t want you to get over me?” He had no idea when he became brave enough to speak those words out loud, or maybe he was in shock. It could be either at this point, honestly.

“Stevie don’t say that.” Y/n sounded almost winded, like he’d just ran a mile. “Why?” The question was simple, but God it had so many meanings to it. Why didn’t he tell Steve he liked him? Why was he trying to get over him? Why would he want him to keep his feelings hidden?

“Because you’re making it damn hard to be a gentleman.” Despite the serious tone of the conversation, Y/n’s voice still held some teasing elements.

“Then don’t be a gentleman.” Steve replied with a quirked eyebrow. Suddenly Y/n’s hands cupped his cheeks, making him look up at the male towering over him. The other man paused, as if offering for Steve to back out, to say he didn’t want this.

Instead, the blonde leaned up, pressing their lips together in an almost desperate kiss. Weeks of pent-up feelings flooded into the kiss, one of his bony hands reaching up to cup the side of Y/n’s neck.

Maybe he was going to hell, maybe he was a sinner who would never be forgiven; but to feel Y/n’s lips against his own it was like a sanctuary from himself. After weeks of being lost at sea, Y/n was the beaming hope of a light house, clearing his path for a safe way home.

Home, that’s what this felt like. That’s what being held against Y/n and being kissed as if it���d be their last felt like.

A small sound left his lips as the kiss was ended, his baby blue eyes fluttering open to look up at the E/c eyed man. A silent understanding passed between the two in their intimate moment, Y/n’s thumbs brushing soothingly against his cheek bones.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and God was the wait worth it.” A breathless laugh left Y/n’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but join in on the laughter.

There was a war raging outside, and maybe they would be torn from each other, on other sides of the world or parted by death; but in this moment they allowed themselves to live in a blissful and ignorant bubble of happiness. In a world at war, you had to take these moments when you had it, and Steve wouldn’t waste it.

[waugh-bao]

Top 5 early 2000s Charlie pics (so shameless of me, I just want to see pics). Also top 5 books.

I’m not complaining.

In no particular order:

1. He looks like a classic movie star and I love it.

2. Charlie smiling is nice no matter what, but I know from the rest of the set that he’s smiling at Mick, which makes it that much better.

3. I mean, do we even need to say why?

4. It’s neat to see Charlie in a space that he decorated, and it’s especially nice to see him looking so relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. This is 2000, so that good period post-‘80s drinking/drugs and pre-cancer, when he seemed to have more confidence than he ever had before or would again.

5. Isn’t it lovely to see an old married couple that still enjoys each other’s company?

I’m not sure if this is for the Stones or all books in general, so I’ll just do both.

(With the caveat that I’m a massive book nerd and asking me to pick my favorite is like asking someone to choose a favorite kid, so I’m just going a bit randomly and only doing fiction. Also, as before, no particular order).

Stones:

1. Life by Keith Richards

It’s biased, but he’s entertaining as hell/so damn bitchy, and there is Charlie propaganda galore.

2. The True Adventures of The Rolling Stones by Stanley Booth

An interesting view into the Stones as a cultural force, as well as their band dynamics, and Stanley’s obvious crush on Shirley is hilarious.

3. Sympathy for the Drummer by Mike Edison

Quite honestly, I don’t read a lot of band books/celebrity bios, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that the writing is trash. Totally not the case here. Edison has a very Hunter S. Thompson meets Tom Wolfe, gonzo/New Journalism style that makes the book enjoyable to read even just for the prose. Of course, the most important part is that it’s all about why Charlie Watts is amazing.

4. S.T.P. by Robert Greenfield

Like the Booth book, a cool view into the band itself and its cultural impact. The book he wrote about following them in 1971 is also pretty good.

5. Stoned by Jo Wood

Lots of great, candid photos.

Books in general:

1. My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk

This is a novel about a miniaturist in the 16th century Ottoman Empire, but it’s also an exploration of religion, love, sex, violence, art, and everything else under the sun. The subject is already close to my heart, both because Islamic miniature painting is an art form I love and that period/place intersects with my professional life, but the prose is mind bendingly good. Each chapter has a different narrator, and it’s not only people that narrate, but the color red, a corpse, death, etc.

2. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

Waugh is one of my favorite English novelists, and this may be my favorite one of his books. It’s sweeping yet still human, sad but still retains hope, funny and dark without losing any of its gravity. The description of Charles and Sebastian under the tree with Aloysius the teddy will haunt me forever.

3. The Collected Poems in English: Joseph Brodsky

Poetry is a little outside of fiction, but I adore Brodsky, so we’ll stretch. To be quite honest, I’m guessing that this is the best resource to read him in English, because I have all of his work in Russian, but please, read him any way you can. He’s criminally underappreciated outside of the Russophone world, and his work is just shatteringly amazing. If you’ve never tried anything by him, look up “May 24, 1980.”

4. Love in A Fallen City and Other Stories by Eileen Chang

This is a novella attached to a collection of short stories, and every piece deserves to be written. Chang shines a fascinating light on early 20th century Chinese culture and society, normally from an often little appreciated female perspective. Even though many of her works focus on relationships between men and women, she’s not any kind of stereotypical romance writer, and you get a lot more than cheap tears or saccarine happy endings.

5. Love in the Ruins by Walker Percy

It’s the voice that draws me to this book, and I think that’s also what makes it so engaging. Dr. Thomas More (descendant of the famous author of Utopia) is a southern doctor struggling day to day to look after his patients in a disintegrating country. He’s also an alcoholic, a lapsed Catholic, and a divorcee who lost a daughter and ricochets between women trying to find stability and meaning while waiting for the end of the world.

[purringbookworm97]

After some research about Blood in folk medicine and magic

Hello! I’ve recently seen a few good posts about the uses of blood magic in modern witchcraft and some also good posts about its uses in folklore, so I thought I might as well make a small compilation of sources!

Therefore, I’m not here to tell you how blood magic works! You already know and can find about the use of blood in rituals, spells, scrying and whatnot from all the posts that circulate on the subject. You also know that blood must be harvested with precautions if you don’t want to catch, or give someone a disease that could effectively kill them! Whee!

This is why I present to you a few sources about the use of blood in folklore and a commentary on these sources!

Here’s one like cuz it’s centered on a civilization I know well, the ancient greeks! I studied them in class and am familiar with most science men mentioned in the article. Truth be told, I don’t think it’s perfect. I don’t like the way it buries other ancient civilizations under the rug to focus on the greek while proclaiming most ancient civilizations were all fans of blood, but I appreciate researching work and the time the person put into quoting greek passages of ancient texts as proof of their arguments. It’s neat. Plus it goes on at length about the visions the greeks had of the role of blood in all types of life, which could be used in paralel with ancient religious texts about rituals and magics involving blood, if anyone has those!

I don’t know about the trustworthiness of this one, but I read it and it’s quick and understandable about the practices revolving around blood in the old days. I especially like the part about egyptian and german practices which are interesting. The author also took the time to quote names of ancient greek historians (as much as one could call Herodotus a historian in the strict meaning of the term) which I find nice! Added to the sources on medicinal cannibalsm quoted at the end, including this article which quotes its own sources, and this book, sadly too expensive for me at the moment (I saw the price and went *nope*).

This article on Britannia, the website, is about blood offerings in different cultures and could be paired with this one about the origines of sacrifice though religion and history, I think it can be fairly interesting to learn the bond between the action of sacrificing something coming from a being, be it life, flesh, bones or blood, and the desire of a result linked to the believed importance of the said parts. I’ll read them and maybe update the description as I go!

I also found a few other books too, including this book about Folk Hematology in the Appalachian South by Anthony Cavender in the Journal of Folklore Research (JSTOR), Mummies, cannibals and vampires by Richard Sugg about the history of corpse medicine through the ages, and The Spirit of Civilization: Blood Sacrifice and Monetary Debt on JSTOR too by William Pietz.

Honestly, I’d like to read them all to see if they’re good or full off bullshit like some books can be, but I advice to anyone who might find all these resources helpful to compare them with each other and make their own opinion. I’m not your dad, of course, but I’ve seen enough people believing everything they were told in my short life to wish everyone could like researching stuff as much as I do!

Therefore, I leave you with this absolutely unproductive post, hope it’ll be at least useful to someone, and on that note, for anyone interested in french and down for a good laugh, this video is about a practice of blood offering by dick-piercing. Yeah. You read that right. Enjoy.

[7demonhoes]

The devildom and hell are not the same part 2

This may have taken forever but I’m actually super proud of it. If you’re interested, I put a link to part 1 below. Also I take requests!!

Description: After giving into curiosity, MC has to deal with the consequences. They couldn’t leave the brothers be, not when they were clearly hiding something from their human. And now, with the demon’s secrets revealed, MC faces a dilemma that could cause them to lose the demon brothers forever. 

Word count: 5,191

Warnings:  Angst, body horror, mention of religion/hell. The demons act like actual demons.

Part 1

I kneel on the edge of the cavern that leads to the pits of Hell, throat raw from my terrified wail. Seven demons stare down at me, the sky beyond them tinged a cloudy red that resembles the blood being spilt far below.

The one that used to be Satan crouches down, moving as if to offer me a hand. It begins the motion. I stare at the arm; veins bulge from skin, its color a faint, sickly green. The hand reaching out towards me is huge, black claws the size of my fingers sharpened to a point, gore under the nails.

My eyes travel past the arm, looking towards the beast’s bare chest. Skin is stretched over muscle, pulled so tightly that it appears as if it will tear and bleed if it is stretched too far. A long, rigid tail snakes around the demon’s leg, swishing excitedly against a pair of bent knees. The tail travels up the entire length of the monster’s back, connecting to two obsidian horns at either side of the monster’s head.

The creature’s facial features are warped beyond recognition into a look of rage. Tight skin stretches over a small nose, dry lips forming a silent howl of anger. The mouth is horrible, its short, sharp teeth gleaming against pale green skin. Rows of teeth line the monster’s throat, reaching far back into the cavernous mouth.

Its eyes are blue-green, and they beg me for forgiveness. The beast whispers my name in Satan’s voice, far too soft to be coming from a hole filled with so many teeth.

“No,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can think.

“Why did you come?” The thing pretending to be Levi unhinges its jaw to speak, a forked tongue drooping from its mouth and slithering towards me.

“You’re so afraid,” another voice buzzes, “You’re making me even hungrier.”

“You betrayed us.” Mammon’s voice sounds pained. I can’t bring myself to look in the voice’s direction. When I looked at the figure before, I caught a glimpse of melted gold and burnt skin. “We loved you, you know.”

I could hear the meaning in those words. But not anymore. “Please,” I beg, because it’s the only thing I can do.

“Do not speak like them,” Lucifer rumbles, talons gesturing dismissively towards the Pit.

I stare at the ground, concentrating on the dirt sifting through my clenched fingers. I can’t think while I stare at them. The screams of the tortured souls get louder if I look into their eyes.

I remember the forcefield. I slowly crawl backwards. I need to get away from this place. I need to get away from-

A frail, thin hand with fine black hair rests on my own. If I wasn’t so afraid, I think I would reel back in disgust. “Running away?” Belgaphor whispers.

"I-" my voice breaks as the hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me forward. I stumble to my feet, barreling into hard muscle.

"Honey," Asmosdeus's sweet voice sounds sickly and thick. "You should have done what you were told."

I shiver against him, my arms wrapped around my chest. I stare down at his feet. A clawed hand gently touches the bottom of my chin.

"Don't," I whisper.

The demon ignores my request, forcing my eyes to travel up towards its face. Small, writhing bodies are pressed against the monster's skin, their nude forms stroking the demon.

When I look at the horror's face, the animal that stole Asmo's voice smiles at me. Its mouth splits open at the middle of the bottom lip, revealing a barbed tongue and curved canines.

Its hooded eyes reveal no emotion. Red makeup swirls around the demon's face, highlighting its elegant features. Four giant wings wrap around me, impossibly smooth to the touch.

I watch as it presses a clawed finger to its lips. "I'm sorry, baby," it coos, "but it appears that we have some things to discuss with you."

"...What?" I ask, attempting to reel backwards as the beast reaches for me. The demon places his finger on my tongue before pulling me in an embrace.

I feel a hand on the back of my head, softly stroking my hair. "Sleep," Belgaphore commands.

My vision blurs, my body starting to feel warm and calm. I find it impossible to move, but I'm too tired to care.

As my vision grows black, I hear the beating of wings and feel the soft caress of hot air against my skin.

I wake up in a dim room. Candlelight flickers across the stone walls and floor. Harsh shadow is cast across the other side of the room, so thick that I can't make out what might be lurking inside. Thankfully, I can no longer hear the screams of the damned.

I try to move my arm. To my horror, it pulls against a metal cuff. I look down to realize that I'm strapped to a metal chair by my wrists and ankles. I stiffen, looking wildly at my surroundings. I have to get out of here. What are they going to do to me? Are they going to keep me in Hell, now that I've learned what they are?

I can't help myself. I let out a whimper. I immediately hear rustling from the other half of the room. Glowing, red eyes stare at me from the darkness.

"Human," Lucifer's voice is rough. "I told you this was not information to be privy of." he steps into the candlelight, and I struggle against the chains. "And yet," he says, staring down at me with hunger, "I should have known that you would have meddled either way."

I stare at the figure in front of me. Its-his?- skin moves like ruffling feathers, never standing still. Hands and feet are replaced with the talons of a bird, the skin dry and black. The wings on the creature's back are even larger and more impressive than usual, crumpled slightly so they can fit in the cramped room. Black feathers shine an iridescent purple whenever candlelight flickers across them. Feathers travel from the wings, up the shoulders, and climb towards the demon's face, stopping at the jawline.

Lucifer's facial features are more or less the same. His cheekbones are sharper, his eyes brighter, and his lips are a shiny black. When the demon speaks, I see neat rows of fangs.

"Are you afraid?" The demon asks.

I remember when he almost attacked me in the common room. "Do you want me to be?"

Lucifer takes another step forward and crouches down, his face inches from mine. When I look into his eyes, I see the faces of those he has tortured. "Yes," he whispers.

I feel my heartbeat in my throat. "Why?" My voice is hoarse.

"It is my nature. And it is yours to be terrified of me." He gestures towards his body. "Especially when I look like this."

"Lucifer," I can't look into his eyes anymore. I stare at my lap, blinking away tears. "What is going to happen to me?"

"We will answer your questions. All of them."

"And then?"

He swallows. I glance at him to see his eyes on me. They're soft; if I look past the souls within them, I can see his sadness. "And then we will make you forget."

"Hell?" I guess that wouldn't be so bad. If I just woke up back in the House of Lamentation without any idea of what happened, it would probably be for the-

"No," Lucifer cuts off my thoughts. "You will forget your time in the Devildom."

If I wasn't sitting down, I think I would fall over. "Please don't." I can't forget this place. I can't forget them.

"It has already been decided." Lucifer stands and heads towards the shadows. "I will come back when it is time to say goodbye." He turns to look at me, opens his mouth, closes it with a shake of the head, and drifts away.

I shudder in a mixture of relief and despair when I no longer feel his presence. This place is horrible. I need to get out of here. But what would that do? They would find me, and they would bring me back.

And then they would say goodbye.

Maybe it's for the best. After everything I've seen… If I don't forget, what would become of my sanity? If I look at the demons in their human forms, will I ever be able to see them as the men I loved again?

I stare at the floor, feeling a coil tighten around my heart. Are the brothers truly that different? They've been coming to this place for more time than I can fathom.

And yet, those are human souls they are torturing. Do they ever look at me and think about hurting me? How much do they have to fight against their instincts to not attack me while I sleep?

But they never have. Does that knowledge by itself allow me to trust them?

It's not like I have a choice. They're taking away my memories of this place no matter what I do.

Someone coughs. I look up to see Beelzebub and Belgaphore. They stand huddled in shadow, looking at anything but me.

I eye them wearily, trying not to look away. Belphie looks even more exhausted than usual, the bags lining his eyes a deep shade of gray. His skin is covered in fine hair and rot, maggots crawling around his skin. Beel glances at the grubs, his stomach growling loudly.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

Belphie raises an eyebrow. "Does what hurt?" His voice sounds sickly. It makes me want to close my eyes and never open them again.

"Your skin."

He shrugs. "You get used to the pain."

I stare at Beel. His eyes look like those of a fly's, each bulb moving in multiple directions. His mouth is half open, drool spilling from his lips. Giant teeth poke holes into his skin, the edges of the white points soaked in blood. His wings buzz each time they quiver.

"We're here to answer some questions." Beel says, "If you want to know anything."

I pause, thinking. It would be a waste to not ask questions, even though the action seems pointless when I know that I won't remember their answers. Still, the longer I drag this out…

Am I really okay with saying goodbye?

"Why do you look like that?" I start, my stomach rolling.

"We naturally shift into our True Forms when in Hell," Beelzebub says. "It's hard to change if we're just in the Devildom, unless we're incredibly angry or we haven't…. come here in a while. The only person who can shift whenever they want is Diavolo"

I swallow, gripping against the chair. "Those people," I whisper hoarsely, "Do they deserve it?"

"People are brought here for different reasons. The book humans use for their religion has some truth in it, some lies."

"For example?"

Belphie sighs. "Killing for safety or self defense doesn't get you thrown down here, but destroying lives for your own well-being does. People never come here based on their sexuality or gender. Stuff like that."

"What about… people who make pacts?"

"Only if you offer your soul. And even those humans don't necessarily end up in Hell."

I frown, thinking. "What will happen to my pacts with you? Once I forget?"

Beel winces. "They won't disappear, but since you won't remember how to use them, the marks will never flare up and show themselves."

A desperate, sad fear twists in my gut. "I don't want to forget you." My voice breaks as I speak, my eyesight becoming blurry.

One of the twins growls. I look up to see Belphie right above me, his lips grinding in an angry snarl. "This is your fault," he rumbles. "If you never asked questions, if you never tracked us…" He kneels down, placing his head on my knees. "Were we that untrustworthy? Was it me?"

"Belphie," I sigh, trying to reach out to him despite the chains. "I was selfish. It was all my fault."

"Can't you stay here instead? What if you just never left? You could live here, with us, and I wouldn't have to-"

Beel walks over and rests a hand on Belphie's head. "Humans can't stay here for their entire lives. It's too dangerous." Beel sighs, walking behind my chair to wrap his arms around me. He's careful to hide his claws. "But it doesn't mean we can't be sad."

My lip quivers. I'm about to speak when Belphie cuts me off. "I can't do this. I can't look at you and know that in a few hours you wouldn't recognize me. I'll- I'll see you later." He gets up, grabs Beel, and drags him out of the room. Before he's engulfed in shadow, Beel reaches out for me.

I desperately try to reach back, but my wrists clang at their restraints.  

I try to fight against the sadness in my gut. What have I done? I can't lose them. Not after all this time.

Before I can second guess myself, I concentrate, bringing the images of Leviathan and Mammon into my head. I imagine all of their forms and desperately force myself to think of each one as the same person.

I close my eyes. "Avatars of Greed and Envy," I speak, feeling the sigils against my palms and over the back of my neck tingle as they flare, "I summon thee as my guides. Be my strength." The sigils burn as I call out to the demons, feeling a familiar pull against my chest. I concentrate on that pull and imagine myself reeling it in.

The ground beneath my feet rumbles. I hear a whoosh and a flutter of wings. When I open my eyes, I find Levi and Mammon staring at me worriedly.

"Why did you summon us?" Mammon asks.

I smile sadly. "I still have questions. And I wanted to do it one last time."

Mammon winces, but doesn't speak. He tries to make him look as small as possible as I study him.

The Avatar of Greed is an impressive, terrifying sight. His blue eyes shine against his dark skin. His body and horns are adorned with jewels, the edges of the golden pieces melting into his skin. His hands are covered in melted gold, his fingers long and slender and decorated with beautiful rings. Black feathers cover parts of his chest and groin, the edge of them dipped in gold.

Burned skin presses against the gold, painful-looking blisters contrasting against the beautiful color of his skin. If Mammon is in pain, he shows no signs of it.

The tips of his bat-like wings are the same. One side of his wings brushes against the stone wall and leaves behind a smooth cut.

I turn my eyes towards Levi, and he shudders. "Don't look at me," he hisses, "I can't let you see me like this."

"Levi," I whisper, "Can you undo my restraints?"

"Won't you run?"

I shake my head. "I won't run away from any of you, ever. I promise." I put power into the words, feeling each of the seven sigils flare. The brothers in front of me gasp as they feel the power of the pacts within them.

Levi steps forward, gingerly reaching down to the cuffs at my ankles. When he moves to undo my wrists, he turns his head to hide his face.

His body is covered in purple scales. His arms and legs are disproportionately long compared to the rest of his body. His claws aren't as long as some of his brother's, but his fangs are the most impressive.

His mouth is huge, his jaw hanging open each time he speaks. Fangs dipped in poison reach towards his bottom lip, a forked tongue occasionally tasting the air. His eyes resemble a snake's, his extra eyelids blinking as he shies away.

Once he's released me from my restraints I rub at my wrists. I slowly stand up, barely coming up to Levi's chest. "Did you get taller?"

"We all do, in this form." He steps away from me.

"It's okay," I say. "Please don't hide. I want to be brave, so that your last memory of me is a good one."

I can tell how much they care through their words and actions. I could never hate them for what they are. They've shown me so much kindness and love.

I wonder if I'll know that something is missing? I've never been appreciated this much in my entire life. Will I feel a void in my heart once I wake up without these memories?

Before Levi or I can realize what I'm doing, I reach out and grab his hand. He jumps as I stroke his claws with a finger, his scales surprisingly smooth. Levi barely moves as I entwine our fingers together.

"Show me," I look at Mammon. He stares where my skin touches Levi's, a mixture of hopefulness and need plastered on his face. "I want to see all of it."  

He stiffens, realizing what I'm asking. "No."

"Please," I take another step closer to Levi. I don't even think he's breathing. "I want to truly accept you all. I want you to know that I understand why you kept this from me, and that even once I forget you that I will never stop loving you."

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakily wipes at his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods before gesturing towards the shadows. Levi and I follow him, still holding hands.

I'm completely blind for a few seconds as we walk through the murky black. As the shadows around me dissipate, the sound of tormented souls reach my ears once more.

We stand on the other side of the pit. I look behind me to see a wall of shadow climbing towards the sky. "That wasn't there before," I mutter.

"Welcome to Hell." Mammon shrugs.

"What's it like?"

"There's eight layers." Levi points down to the pit. I glance at it, trying to put on a brave face. "Each one of us controls a layer, but the lesser demons are the ones who do most of the work. We go once a week or so to quell some of our more… natural instincts."

"Eight layers? But there's seven of you."

"The first layer is the pathway to the layer each soul will spend eternity in. The people you see now are those who have just died."

"And every demon needs to come here."

"Yes," Levi nods. "For some, it's almost like a job. Demons who have roles at other places in the Devildom only come here occasionally."

I catch Mammon's apprehensive stare. He swallows. "Aren't you afraid?"

I look down at the black dirt. "Yes. But the fear of Hell seems unimportant when I am so much more afraid of using all of you."

Levi sucks in a breath. "I can't believe you." He looks down at himself. "How could you see me like this and not be disgusted?"

"It's hard." I won't lie to them-- it feels like my instincts are screaming at me to run and hide. "But I know that you would never hurt me."

"But we have!" Levi shudders, "Don't you remember? We have never been fully able to control ourselves!" He takes his hand from my grasp, instead clenching them into fists. "Every time," he growls, "Every time we have ever hurt you it was because we had procrastinated coming here. And we never learned our lesson."

He's shaking, his eyes wide. "And now, you're gone. The first person we've truly cared about and you're being taken away-"

I crash into him, arms wrapping around his torso. He stiffens, hands remaining rigid at his side. The air beside me suddenly becomes hot as Mammon comes closer, coming as close to me as he can without burning me.

"I'm sorry," I sob into Levi's scales. "I'm so sorry. I love you all so much. I-I don't want to lose you."

Mammon tilts his head towards the sky and bellows, a ferocious roar emptying into the air and causing the ash beneath my feet to quake. He snarls, his feathers rippling. "Fuck this," he snaps. "Fuck Hell, fuck the rules. I'm not losing you." His blue eyes meet mine, flames burning within. "We're not showing you Hell. We're getting ya out of this place."

Levi bristles. "But where can we take them?"

I gasp. "Purgatory Hall. Solomon has a trap there. I'll be stuck in a forcefield, and only he can get me out. We'll be able to negotiate."

Mammon nods. "Let's go." He takes to the sky, giant wings flapping impressively.

Levi effortlessly picks me up, cradling me gently against his chest. "Hold on," he says. I tighten my grip around him as he takes off at an impossibly fast speed, the world blurring around me as he sprints around the Pitt and towards the forcefield back to the Devildom.

As we pass through the forcefield, he doesn't slow even as he shrinks in size and his scales recede. He continues to run as he returns to his normal demon form, his face a mask of concentration.

Mammon continues to fly above us, keeping pace with Levi-

A giant, terrifying figure in the sky flies toward him. They both go toppling to the ground in a flurry of wings and roars.

"Shit!" Levi yells, forcing himself to go faster.

"What was that?" I have to scream to hear my voice over the howling wind.

"Diavolo! He must know we're trying to help you!"

I swallow down a thick ball of anxiety. He wanted to kill Belphie for not following his orders when it came to the exchange program; what will he do to Mammon for letting me remember Hell?

Once we reach Purgatory Hall, Levi doesn't slow as we reach the door. He tightens his hold around me as he rams into the door with his shoulder. The wood splinters and falls beneath his weight.

Something screams behind us. Levi swears, heading towards Solomon's room. Just as we reach the hallway, the windows lining the walls all shatter at once.

Levi curls around me and jumps, hitting the ground and rolling as glass embeds itself into his skin. He sucks in a pained breath, releasing me and throwing me towards Solomon's door.

I scramble to my hands and knees and take a few steps forward before looking back. Levi's already standing, his arms spread wide to leave as little of an opening to reach me as possible.

And beyond him…. Is Diavolo in his True Form. He stands at a staggering seven feet, each limb defined with bulging muscle. His wings are so large that the edges poke past the broken windows, the stiff leather riddled with glass. His arms lay tensely at his sides, claws as big as my hand covered in a mixture of blood and strips of dark skin.

I shudder, thinking of Mammon and asking every god I know to let him be okay.

Diavolo snarls, his mouth stretching from ear to ear. A long, pointed tongue is covered with blood, red drool spilling from his horrible mouth. His eyes glow against black eye sockets.

And his skin…. Screaming faces press themselves against it as if trying to escape. The forms convulse against his entire body, hands reaching out and pressing against veined skin in a mixture of desperation and hopelessness.

Diavolo screams, and I cover my ears with a pained gasp as the walls around me shake. Levi steadies himself against the towering beast before him.

"Run!" Levi shouts just as Diavolo charges. I force myself to turn away and spring for Solomon's door as the sound of pained grunts and tearing echoes from behind me. I open the door and dive into the threshold of the room as something hot and wet erupts at my ankle.

I fall into the room and whirl around, staring at the open door as I lay sprawled out on the floor.

Diavolo bangs against the forcefield, his face a mask of rage. I cower beneath him, a small whimper bubbling from my throat.

I look past his hulking form to see Levi crumpled against a wall, his body covered in deep lacerations. I stare at him in shock, thinking the worst.

He coughs, opening an eye to look at me. He smiles when he sees me in Solomon's room before closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls.

I force myself to look at my ankle. The skin is shredded in three different places. I wince, just now feeling the pain as I stare at the wound. I quickly rip a part of my shirt and tie it around my ankle, gritting my teeth through the sharp needles of hurt.

A flurry of wings takes my attention away from my useless ankle. Diavolo turns as the rest of the demon brothers enter the hallway through the shattered windows.

Lucifer carries a bloodied heap in his arms. His eyes glow with an anger so intense I find myself scooting away despite the forcefield between us. He gently sets Mammon down next to Levi, his cold eyes softening as he looks at his brothers.

His eyes drift towards me, then towards my bandaged ankle. He glances at Diavolo's bloodied claws, then looks back at his unconcioUs brothers.

He faces Diavolo. His skin ripples, and with a sudden cry of rage he shifts into his True Form, his eyes almost level with Diavolo's.

A rumbling voice sounds from Diavolo's throat, more growls than words, "How dare you threaten me!"

Lucifer bares his teeth. "You laid a hand on my brothers. You laid a hand on my human."

"They broke the rules! They must face the consequences." Diavolo steps forward threateningly, but Lucifer holds his ground. "Bring Solomon here at once to break the spell."

"No." Lucifer shakes his head defiantly. "You will not harm anyone else."

Satan puts a hand on his shoulder. His skin stretches and pulls as he changes as well. Each brother steps closer to Lucifer, their eyes ablaze as they stand before their king. To protect their brothers.

To protect me.

I can't leave them.

"You cannot defy me!" Diavolo roars.

"No," a cunning smile warps itself on Lucifer's face, "but they can force us." He points a claw at me.

Diavolo gasps and turns to me, smashing against the forcefield with all of us weight. I focus on the brothers instead as they wait. With a grunt of effort, I get to my feet. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

I picture the brothers in my head, bringing my favorite memories of them to my mind. I pour everything I have felt over the past few hours-- the fear, the despair, the desperation…

And the love. I imagine golden love wrapping around their bodies and mine, entwining us forever; an unbreakable bond that cannot be forgotten.

I don't have to say the words. I feel all seven pacts burning on my skin, their colors washing me in a hue of seven different colors.

I look at Mammon and Levi. "Heal," I command. Their eyes fly open, skin closing around their myriad of wounds. "Change," I tell them, and their figures warp, the beautiful monster's falling behind Lucifer.

Diavolo screams, whirling around to face the brothers. He charges, raising a clawed hand towards Lucifer.

"Protect yourselves!" I demand, "And don't let me leave you!"

Lucifer catches Diavolo's raised hand. Faster than I can blink, the brothers hold Diavolo down. He tries to get loose and tear away from them, but he's no match for the seven of them.

"This is treason." His voice is full of malice.

"There has to be another way," Lucifer pleads. "There has to be a way to ensure that they don't forget."

"It's impossible." Diavolo shakes his head. He blinks, the rage on his face turning to a look of pensiveness. "Only damned souls and demons are able to witness Hell."

Satan stiffens. "What if-"

Belgaphore gasps. "It could be possible."

Lucifer frowns. "I doubt they'd want that."

Diavolo tilts his head to the side, his eyes turning towards my direction. "I suppose it wouldn't make the exchange program a complete failure." He takes a deep breath, his body shrinking in size until he's in his human form. He crosses his arms, staring at me.

The brothers follow suit, each of them shaking off their demon forms. I watch them, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Diavolo takes a step forward. His eyes no longer hold any anger. "You have two options," he says. "Either you can forget this place and live the rest of your days as a human…"

He pauses. I try to read the brother's faces for a clue, but the only expressions on their faces are those mixed with anxiety and hope.

Diavolo continues, "...or you can live in the Devildom for the rest of eternity. As a demon."

My heart skips a beat. I could be here. Forever, with the brothers.

As a demon.

"H-how?"

"With the correct rituals, it's quite an easy process. But if you do this, you will forever be changed. The human realm will no longer belong to you." Diavolo narrows his eyes. "You are trapped. You have no other choice."

I look at Levi and Mammon, who risked their lives to get me here. Levi shrugs, understanding the meaning of my gaze. "We gave you a way out. Now it's up to you to choose."

I stare at the demons in front of me, picturing their true forms. Do I really want to leave the human world behind? Would I be prepared to give it all up?

And what about my job as a demon? I would have to do unspeakable things…

And yet… could I stand to lose what I have here? I have never felt so loved, so complete until I came here.

I close my eyes. And I feel the decision in my bones.

"I won't forget you," I say.

The brother's eyes go wide, but Diavolo simply nods. Something shuffles from the back of the room. I turn to see Solomon materialize from a corner.

"What. The. Hell." I mutter, staring at the grinning wizard.

"Sup," he replies. He shuffles to his desk, pulling out a small container. He opens it before kneeling before my injured ankle, gingerly peeling off my makeshift bandage. He rubs some sort of cream on it, and the wound heals within seconds. He stands up with a wink, waving a hand in the direction of his doorway. The forcefield dissolves.

"Let's make a pact," he smiles.

I sigh, standing up and squaring my shoulders. Lucifer extends a hand out towards me. I take it. Each brother turns and begins to walk.

I leave my humanity at the door, following the loves of my life into the eternally dark sky of the Devildom.

[cozystars]

The Thing about Angels

This is less of a theory and more of a worldbuilding hc? undertale might as well be my headworld with how much thought i’ve put into its magic system alone (i jest abt that first part, im not lying about the latter.)

BUT YES, angels. both harbingers of hope and doom. been thinking about how they work as a religion within ut/dr and how monsters are imbued with the power to become one themselves. the religion stuff is going to be a touching on Christianity so if that makes you uncomfortable, i’m giving you a big ol warning now before you continue under the cut

In undertale, the delta rune’s history has been lost to time but still has a lot of significance to the monsters below. while gerson says that lately people have seen the angel as ‘a harbringer of death’, it does imply a time where a majority of monsters saw it as a symbol of hope. I find this really interesting, where the savior’s image has shifted from one of freedom to destruction just from how bad things were getting. This change happened because that many of them were losing faith in the legend of a savior. And there’s monsters just, fine adapting to that. The idea of a higher being coming down to destroy all, that one day the world they know is coming to an end alongside with themselves. (something something no mercy run something something) I wonder if there’s abandoned churches we never got to see within New Home.

Now with deltarune, things are different. We’re shown a lot more of this religion (still thinking of a name I’ll figure it out). They have a church, an individual deity to worship, father alvin. It heavily mirrors a real world sect of christianity, but it’s still different. They have no concept of sin, but instead just a figure to believe in for guidance and hope. Maybe monsters have their own version of the ‘endtimes’, where the angel frees them of this worlds bonds and onto the next. The prophecy is probably now takes a form of a religious text and that ‘cross’ around monster kid’s neck is just the deltarune but simplified. What if there’s believers in an angel of death still existing in DR? Where it’s taken the form of a warped nihilistic sect of this religion. ‘Everything I do doesn’t matter, because in the end the angel is going to destroy us all.’

[taken from the og notes doc lol]

And now onto the second part of this post that’s still just less theory more magic building!

Angels! Monsters can take the form of them through the power of determination, or uh, other means. A monster is transformed into an immense state of power, becoming a harbinger themselves. And with a human soul, they can become unstoppable.

A signifier of someone with the capability to become an angel is going through a loss. Wether that be the people they sought to defend, their family, or even themselves. They need a big reason why to power through in the first place.

Another signifier of angels is in their design. Look at Undyne the Undying, Mettaton NEO, and Asriel’s final form within his boss fight. Each are sharp and angular, have heart decals, with wings spread. An Angel takes their form after the delta rune, taking the mantle of becoming the savior of legend themselves. And that’s just so fucking neat I think; that spamton neo is also an angel, just a shoddy (but still powerful) rendition of one.

THAT WAS THE THING ABOUT ANGELS, maybe I’ll post more about magic stuff later but yeah! man I have to change the title of this blog if I do this again

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 9 of 26

Title: The Priory of the Orange Tree (2019) 

Author: Samantha Shannon

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Third-Person, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonists

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 3/12/2021

Date Finished: 4/12/2021

1000 years ago, the world burned. Draconic creatures terrorized the land, led by a horrific evil known as the Nameless One. But then something happened that sent the monsters into a seemingly endless sleep, and the world has rebuilt in the centuries since.

But the Draconic evil begins to stir in its slumber, and the divided nations of the world have little chance to stop it. Eadaz is a mage from the Priory of the Orange Tree, sent to spy on the northern queendom of Inys. Legend has it that as long as the royal line continues, the world will be free from the Nameless One. While it's a long shot, Ead guards the young Queen Sabran closely to preserve the peace. However, as she and the queen grow closer to each other, Ead has to decide where her loyalties lie. Meanwhile, her close friend Loth is secretly sent into exile by the royal spymaster due to his controversial friendship with the queen. Supposedly sent as an ambassador to the newly Draconic kingdom of Yscalin, he soon finds himself out of his depth, entrusted with a deadly secret.

In the isolationist Eastern country of Seiiki, Tané wants nothing more than to become a dragon rider. The dragons of the East are old, wise, and revered as gods-- eternally opposed to the Draconic legions of the West. However, the night before the choosing ceremony that will decide her fate, she breaks isolation and discovers a young man from the West on the shore. Rather than report him to the authorities, she and her friend smuggle him to the island of Orisima, the only place Westerners are permitted. Niclays Roos, an old man exiled to Orisima by Queen Sabran, soon finds himself caught in the conflict. He believes if he finds an elixir for eternal life, he will finally be able to return home. When he's forced to shelter the forbidden Westerner, Niclays' entire way of life is upended-- but he is soon granted the opportunity to escape his exile.  

'My grandmother once said that when a wolf comes to the village, a shepherd looks first to her own flock. The wolf bloods his teeth on other sheep, and the shepherd knows it will one day come for hers, but she clings to the hope that she might be able to keep him out. Until the wolf is at her door.’

Full review, minor spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.

Content warnings for the book:  Some sexual content. Blood, gore, violence, traumatic injury, suicide, and death. Torture and execution. Miscarriage. Body horror (kinda). Drug use.

Clocking in at just over 800 pages, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a long, detailed story. I tend to label things Epic Fantasy when they have world-changing stakes. While Priory certainly fits that criteria, it's the first fantasy book I've read in a while that really does feel like an epic. It stars a huge cast of interesting characters from many walks of life, all of whom find themselves caught up in a world-spanning conflict. It captures the sense of a standalone, grand adventure that shorter fantasy novels of today don't typically reach.

With a book this long, it would be easy to ramble on forever about everything I liked. However, I'm going to try to keep it short and simple.

One of my favorite things about this story was the sheer depth of the world. Lots of people compare this to The Lord of the Rings not for its tropes, but the attention to detail regarding the countries, politics, history, religion, and so on. I'm inclined to agree with this assessment. The world felt alive and multi-dimensional. I could pinpoint many parallels to our own mythologies and histories-- particularly drawn from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. There's also a clear love of language in the story via its beautiful prose. I like to think I know English pretty well, but this book taught me quite a few new words! Might fuck around and call sunsets "rutilant" from now on.

I thought all four leads were interesting. Ead is kinda the "main" lead of the novel, although Tané overtakes her in the latter half. Everyone had different personalities and backstories, and I genuinely enjoyed all of their arcs. Niclays in particular would be an easy character to hate; of the four, he's the most selfish and does some real questionable shit. At the same time, it's hard not to sympathize with him. He's a sad, unjustly exiled elder who's lost the one man he cared about, and finds himself in a desperate situation. These types of characters are interesting to me; a glimpse of what anyone can become given the wrong circumstances and cruel treatment.

With stories like this, one of the most satisfying payoffs is how the different characters and stories come together. It was interesting to see how their paths converged and diverged over time, and ultimately how everything tied together in the end. I also appreciated the character relationships. I liked that Loth's close friendships with both Sabran and Ead were intimate yet platonic without some awkward love triangle.

From some story specifics... I'm a sucker for the bodyguard romance trope, and seeing it done with women in a mainstream novel gave me life. I thought the romance between Ead and Sabran was really sweet; I didn't see how it would work early on since Sabran was a little insufferable, but she had hidden depths (oh god, another weakness of mine). I also really liked the idea of traditional European and Asian dragons being diametrically opposed, and that being a core theme of the story. Intelligent and/or talking animals are another thing I adore in spec fic, so I dug characters like Aralaq. Kalyba's ongoing relevance and gradual exposition was also neat; I love minor world details that turn out super relevant later.

Also, the entire final battle/ending sequence was SO good. Really creative and action packed. Action scenes often blend together for me (and can be logistical nightmares) but Priory's climactic ending was just awesome. I don't want to spoil specifics, but it reminded me of many beloved epic battles in modern fantasy. Avatar the Last Airbender, How To Train Your Dragon, and Pirates of the Caribbean all came to mind. 

My main criticism with Priory is that often, the plot relied on convenient coincidence to get the characters out of a jam or otherwise advance the story. I can excuse a minor contrivance or two for the sake of a smooth story, and the scope of this book is big enough that it'd be hard to avoid. But some are nuts. For example, Loth gets rescued from certain death by a giant ichneumon while traveling through the mountains. We later learn the ichneumon is Aralaq, a friend of Ead's, and he just happened to be in the middle of nowhere, far from his home, and stumbled upon Loth. Loth, who ALSO happens to be Ead's best friend... which Aralaq presumably doesn't know?

Another is the MAJOR SPOILER regarding the rising jewel's location. I didn't hate the twist itself, but there was so little build up to it. I wish there were more early hints to justify it, because with setup it would be a pretty cool development. These things didn't ruin my enjoyment of the story, but the borderline deus ex machina (machinae? machinas?) did take me out of it a bit. It’s possible I missed stuff so I’ll give some benefit of the doubt. 

Overall, though, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a fun, world-spanning adventure. Like any long book, it's an investment to get into. However, if you're looking for a standalone, feminist fantasy epic, this is certainly a good place to start.  

[antialiasis]

Worldbuilding June (Pokémon edition), Days 8-12

Whoops forgot to post these for a couple of days, too busy with a load of Things as always.

8. Who rules in your world?

TQftL never brings up government, but each region has its own human government, generally just standard representative democracies similar to what we have in the modern world. Ouen has an elected parliament and president. It's a fairly utopian world with little scarcity and politics play kind of a background role - they keep things running, they have some different parties, but there's low polarization and usually they work pretty smoothly together and have little conflict. The situation in other regions is similar - movement is very free and conflict between them is rare and minor in the grand scheme of things.

QftLverse Pokémon, once again, have their own societies and are not subject to human rule except in a limited way while they're with a trainer, as per the Agreement, an all-encompassing contract dictating how the relationship between humans and Pokémon should work. Different Pokémon species govern themselves differently, but their societies are generally based on smaller self-governing groups. The Scyther society has a single leader, who is meant to be the simply strongest in the swarm, and anyone can challenge them to a duel to the death to take their place at any time.

The Morphicverse is once again close to Earth, with different countries having different modes of government. The Poké-USA's politicical climate resembles the actual USA's political climate in ~2007, but if I ever wrote references to the current president I wouldn't make him an outright Bush expy or anything, beyond being from the conservative one of the two highly polarized parties.

9. What religions and myths/legends exist in your world?

The QftLverse's human society is basically post-religious. Legendary Pokémon are revered, but not worshipped - people don't pray to them, ascribe natural phenomena to them, expect them to watch over them personally, perform symbolic rituals associated with them, etc. That said, humans do have myths concerning them - not always accurate ones. The story describes the human myth behind one set of legendaries early on before the reality much later turns out to have been fairly different, for instance.

QftLverse Pokémon have their own myths, legends, religions and beliefs. The Scyther society explored in the spin-offs has a bit of a vague mythology going on explaining the sun, moon, stars and clouds, but it's not very important to them, more of a just-so story. Meanwhile, they live by a system of ethics known as the Code that they consider sacred and all-important, though it doesn't have a godly figure behind it as the source of it, only a philosophy. Other Pokémon might variously have straight-up religion (whether worshipping legendary Pokémon or something else), be entirely areligious, or something in between; most will have myths and legends in some form, though.

The Morphicverse has a form of Christianity, which is functionally a lot like ours; this also means they had a version of Judaism. Other specific religions don't come up, but they'd at the very least be as varied as real-world religions. Like in real life, there are many sects and variants, and as many individual interpretations of faiths as there are people. The villain cult in particular has fringe views that in no way resemble the mainstream. And like in real life, many people nominally believe but don't really practice their religion, and many are agnostic or atheist.

Legendary Pokémon in the Morphicverse are cryptids - there are myths and legends about them, and people think they're neat, write fiction and make movies about them all the time, but in the modern day, actually-for-real believing that they exist out there ranges from mildly eccentric to entirely unthinkable. Worship of legendary Pokémon exists, but in the way that modern neo-Paganism does. It's not remotely mainstream, generally seen as a weird hippie thing, and the notion of Arceus appearing in the flesh one day and declaring he created the universe is about as fantastical to most people as the notion of the Norse pantheon doing the same in our world.

10. What traditions are observed in your world?

QftLverse human traditions are mostly just secular holidays - commemorations of important days in the region's history, etc. It's tradition for most children to go out on a Pokémon journey the spring after they turn ten years old, and participate in a First-Timers' League in the autumn if they manage to stick it out for the whole journey and collect all the badges - there are kids who don't, but it's rare for them to not want to, and other kids may see them as no fun.

Every year in Green Town, there is a Pokémon Festival originally built around the legendary Pokémon Chaletwo's yearly brief visit to the outskirts of the city (which may or may not be ditched in the next revision); it hosts a number of Pokémon-themed events over several days. One of them is a starter Pokémon giveaway, where most kids go to get official starter Pokémon, who have specifically volunteered and been trained to work with beginning trainers - though many kids have had Pokémon as pets/partners since they were young and journey with them instead, or their parents otherwise get them a Pokémon who's up for a beginning trainer. (Many Pokémon kind of like the idea of journeying with a beginning trainer, in the way that many people like the idea of getting a kitten rather than an adult cat - just something special about having been with them from the start. Though getting a starter who's actually been trained to deal with kids is recommended over just finding any random enthusiastic Pokémon.)

Pokémon have all kinds of different traditions. The Scyther society as explored in the spin-offs has a number of traditions and rituals, including a sort of blood baptism of new hatchlings, the leader of the swarm teaching all the adolescent Scyther about the Code, and First Prey, where each of the adolescents is sent out to hunt prey on their own for the first time, with a male and female witness following, so they can prove their ability to kill and to feed themselves. Afterwards, they're expected to publicly offer a symbolic piece of the meat of their first prey to some members of the swarm, and doing so signals respect; you don't technically have to, but in practice everyone always offers it to the leader and not doing so would be taken as outright disrespect.

The Morphicverse is once again culturally similar to the real world and has mostly similar sorts of traditions. Pokémon training is less culturally ingrained there, but still a very common hobby for kids.

11. What are some ways people communicate with pokémon in your world, or pokémon with each other?

In the QftLverse, humans learn to understand Pokémon speech as a mandatory subject at school. Pokémon inherently understand human speech, but they speak anime-style, usually in syllables of their species' name (which is what the species are named after). They share one language, which is not based on exactly what the syllables are but the tone and the way they're combined, hence why it works regardless of the species.

In the current version of the fic, this is pure handwave worldbuilding: it's established that it happens at school at the beginning, and then we just move on to the story, where every human simply understands what Pokémon are saying at all times. In the next revision I'd give a bit more proper worldbuilding attention to it - let the language barrier be a little more present, humans vary in exactly how good they are at it (luckily it's already the main character's best subject at school), and otherwise treat it less like it's just an excuse to act like Pokémon speak English.

In the Morphicverse, Pokémon do communicate but they don't do complex communication - instead, it's closer to the sort of communication most animals do in the real world. They can express how they're feeling, draw attention to something interesting, sound the alarm about something scary, ask another Pokémon to follow, and can do this in a somewhat more efficient and intelligent way than most animals generally do. But one way or another, they don't communicate complicated abstract ideas, neither to humans nor to one another. Pokémon don't automatically understand human speech here, though they're very quick learners when it comes to commands, and they can pick up a fair amount just by being around humans, allowing them to get the gist of basic statements and requests without being explicitly taught them, though anything abstract would still be entirely lost on them. You could tell a Pokémon you've lived with for years "I lost my hat, can you help me find it" and they'll go look for your hat, but they'd be lost if you tried to ask them for anything much more complicated than that.

12. What is the gym circuit or adventuring organization like in your world?

In the QftLverse, gyms are meant to be taken on in a specific order and gym leaders are accordingly expected to keep their Pokémon below a certain level. To be officially sanctioned by the League, a gym needs to have a theme - usually a type, although Rick got away with a legendary theme because he gets away with everything because he is hypnotizing League officials with his Mewtwo super-clone I was twelve years old. Every year there's a First-Timers' League in the autumn in each region, where new trainers who have collected all eight badges of their region face off (except for the bit where I somehow made a guy who'd been training for years be part of it without thinking about it properly). There's also a global Old-Timers' League for more experienced trainers, which crowns a world champion; this doesn't involve badges and is just a tournament. Trainers are advised to stick to official routes, while Pokémon who want a trainer seek out the routes and others avoid them; going off-route has the potential to lead to run-ins with Pokémon who are more hostile to humans. It's not forbidden but it's drilled into kids' heads that you're not supposed to.

The Morphicverse's gym circuit is not too dissimilar to that, but gym leaders are expected to carry a variety of Pokémon teams to take on challengers of different skill levels, who can take on the gyms of their circuit in any order. Kid trainers are strictly meant to travel only along official routes, which are thoroughly monitored to be safe, and often take public trainer transportation; when they're eighteen they can get an adult trainer license with which they can take their Pokémon anywhere they like, at their own risk. Mostly kids do it as a hobby, and many young children dream of being professional trainers, but only a fraction are actually good enough to make money off it, so most either quit it after a few summers on realizing it's not for them (they might release their Pokémon or keep them as pets, depending on how high-maintenance they are), or continue to do it as a side hobby. There exist college-level training schools for those who really want to dedicate their lives to it, but by that point in time most people will have dropped their pro trainer dreams.

[readingaccountability]

snow crash - neal stephenson

my playlist (because of The Way That I Am)

final thoughts:

okay, im going to be honest right out of the gate- i cant decide whether this is a book id recommend or not. it was really fun for the most part, but personally there was a lot more exposition than id like. the early portions of the novel have exposition which feels completely fair, mostly things relating to worldbuilding. stephenson creates his own vision of future america, and some places online referred to it as cyberpunk, and some as post-cyberpunk. id be more in the latter camp, mostly due to the way he plays with tropes, leaving the reader unsure of which will be subverted and which wont.

the use of language was really fun, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot. his vision of a futuristic capitalistic earth feels surreal in its immediacy and recognizability. the back jacket blurb ends with "a future america so bizarre, so outrageous, you'll recognize it immediately." which, yeah. a texan info-tech magnate? two competing corporations owning the highway system? suburban city-states? this was another enjoyable thing- everything was colorfully named, and names treated totally normally, which kind of poked fun at how we have everyday things named very ludicrously and for the most part we are totally blind to it.

one aspect i really enjoyed was that the author often doesn't make certain things clear to the audience, until he does, and then it becomes necessary to reassess the entire story and setting. this goes to underscore the theme of the importance of information and the ways we take it in and perceive the world based upon it. for example, we don't learn that y.t. is fifteen until maybe 75 pages in, at which point a lot makes sense in retrospect. the same thing occurs in the worldbuilding, as suddenly a detail is given in passing and the reader must incorporate it into the setting, which by default we assume to be similar in many ways to our idea of america. it keeps the reader on their toes as well as furthering the worldbuilding. for the most part, the tech stuff didnt feel outdated to me, despite being a future projected out from '92.

however, aspects of the book are definitely very 1992. id put these into two camps: the first, being that the book does at different times use slurs. the main character is black and asian, the n word is used a few times by racist side-character/antagonist types, as are a few other racial slurs. there was also the occasional usage of the r slur, within the narrative prose itself, rather than usage as an insult within dialogue.

the protagonist, who is named, unfortunately, hiro protagonist, is a great character and felt very fleshed out to me, though at times he reminded me more of dirk strider than normally would be ideal. (its obvious that stephenson and andrew hussie are of a similar type of writer, and play with similar tropes, lmao.) hiro is a man of many worlds. he seems to shift between them easily, though never fully existing in any of them. this is reflected in his background, both in his biracial identity and in having been raised on a myriad of army bases. this is layered further in his fluidity in interacting with both reality and the metaverse, yet remaining slightly, consistently aloof. fascinatingly the first moment i sensed this drop was when we meet juanita- aka where his real and meta realities coincide. the description of them as the adam and eve of the metaverse is both insanely romantic and thematically key (good god i wish we had more than like, two conversations between them). juanita designed the facial component to metaverse avatars, doing the majority of this work when the two were together, and hiro can see echoes of both their facial tics in the face of every avatar in the metaverse. in a way, by having done this work juanita is positioned by the narrative as one of the gods of this digital realm. she is also hiro's call to action, being aware of the coming trouble and alerting him to it, as well as connecting him to the informational database he needs to prepare.

y.t., the secondary protagonist, fucking ruled. i loved that she was just a fifteen year old punkass kid whose mom doesnt know how crazy this part time job is. y.t. being worried about her mom was a great thread throughout, and a really good balance to how obviously independent y.t. is. i do wish there had been a chance to explain more about her background (she has a dad who left who is mentioned in a throwaway sentence, and a boyfriend who is mentioned near the beginning but never again.) i really enjoyed how obviously hyperaware y.t. was at all times about her own place within the insanities of the setting, while also consistently writing her as a teen maybe in way too deep who thinks about things in typically teenage ways. but like, that wasn't ever held against her? the narrative meets her where she is. it was honestly awesome. HOWEVER,

i absolutely hated the raven and y.t. scenes. how creepy!!! he basically statutory rapes her!!! we know hes at least late 20s early 30s, because hes the same age as hiro. if this sort of content is upsetting to read for you, i definitely do NOT recommend this book. (if you want to avoid reading these bits: ch 47 y.t. meets raven, ch 50 they are in a bar eating, ch 52 things happen that result in y.t.'s anti-assault device activating- she did not activate it on purpose, but forgot it was there- and raven is knocked out.)

please PLEASE dont take any of the following analysis as like, trying to be apologetic towards this scenes. because again they were awful and hard to get through and really gross. but im also cognizant that the author was obviously trying to convey something by making the choice, like the way it was written is obviously not condoning this sort of thing.

i think maybe what stephenson was trying to get at with that, was that we see hiro internally negate any potential for anything untoward with y.t. basically immediately, since he kind of senses that she might have a small crush on him (though this doesnt last more than a fleeting moment, especially from her perspective). vs raven, whose 'poor impulse control' warning tattoo eventually elicits a sarcastic remark from hiro after he finds out raven and y.t. were "a thing". i really dont think hiro knew how far it went? like it was just suuuper weird, but i figured it was meant narratively to 1. execute the chekovs gun of y.t.'s anti-assault device, 2. contrast hiro and raven (especially considering the bike-racing argument where theyre telling the story together, which is supposed to parallel them, while contrasting the differences in how they ended up?), and 3. just to get raven unconscious, i guess. but good god it was weird and i hated every second of it, why couldnt the device have like, activated way earlier?? gah. fucking upsetting. moving past that!

honestly i was really frustrated by how little screentime juanita got, because the way she was introduced was so fucking interesting and then shes mostly off doing her own thing. the bits of explanation she gives at the end about what she was up to on the raft are so sparse and im like damn, can we get a little bit of her pov in here? please? that would have ruled. additionally, shes supposed to be hiros love interest, but we see so little of them interacting outside her intro scenes. a huge portion of why hiro is getting into the sumerian mythology is literally framed as something that will help him understand juanita, but we dont get to see him talk to her about it barely at all.

the supporting characters were quite fun, i particularly liked the librarian. big surprise, i liked the overly literal ai information-dispensor, lmfao. watching him and hiro interact reminded me SO hard of geordi laforge having honest to god conversations with the computer where he tries to coax information out of it, aka one of my favorite little aspects of tng.

and lastly, the major plot themes themselves. i adore the way stephenson approached action, it was very entertaining. usually i cant really visualize action scenes written out, but his use of language was really really effective and engaging. the plot itself was absolutely fascinating, though i found the premise pretty contrived. which isnt bad in itself, i was fully suspending my disbelief until the last hundred pages or so. which for a 550+ page book, isnt too bad.

i did like the approach of linking the ancient to the modern, that is always really neat. and i think ultimately stephenson did it in an interesting way, not how i would have done it, but definitely interesting! creating these ideas about information infrastructures, and there being words that can access those and be used to control people, was wild. not sure if i agree about the equating of religion to a virus, though he did specifically establish that it was more the approach to religion, than religion itself. (maybe if juanita had been more goddamn present in the narrative that could have been elaborated on a little more. literally her perspective would have been perfect in balancing that out!!)

ultimately what did me in was the very very very long winded MONOLOGUE where hiro re-explained the whole premise, in ways that didnt really neatly organize into a cohesive argument. a lot of the scenes where hiro talks to the librarian, which are interspersed throughout the book, are really exposition heavy, because stephenson is rooting his ideas in historical concepts that need to be explained to both hiro and the audience. and i thought all that was fine, because it was a conversation where hiro was grappling with the information, and he was figuring it out along with the reader, and most importantly it was a conversation between him and the librarian computer program.

howeverrr later on we get a full rehash of all that, where hiro makes clear some stuff that was just implied for the reader, and hes literally just telling these important men whats up in this big long monologue. utterly worthless. i kept reading it and going YEAH, we KNOW, we know this we know this. and the important men barely interjected. it added basically nothing to our understanding of the situation, other than reframing it. but everything added was already an implicit thing, and didnt really need to be said again.

the resolution to the book was stellar, the last 30-40 pages, once hiro is onto the raft, were great. ultimately after reading and giving some time to digest it, i think it was a solidly great book with a few big drawbacks near the end, but which dont carry through and sully the ending.