#if there is not an entry by the time i publish this you all have every right to laugh at and cajole me

[lady-phasma]

Could you IMAGINE Lestat’s reaction to the internet? Better yet, imagine his reaction to all the fan blogs that would inevitably pop up after his own interview is released after Daniel’s book is published. Lestat’s ego would be bigger than the moon LMAO. Somebody would have to hide ao3 from that man.

Hi anon! I saved this ask until I could take my time with it, but also so that the amazing and brilliant @aemondsbabe could help me. She and I have literally been having a similar conversation for months!

In fact, I love this ask so much that I had to make a gif for it!

Since season two and the Rockstar promo we have been discussing this pretty frequently. One thing I think we can all agree on: Lestat's Twitter would be phenomenal and hilarious. I live for AMC to do a promo account just for the character.

Here's some headcanon we have about Lestat's internet use:

OF - Lestat 100% has an account. He might not use it for explicit acts, but he would love the "private" style of attention, knowing that he is captivating audiences via computers and phone and tablets in their homes.

Twitter/X - This account would be the rambling, unhinged shit we expect from him. Typos, Franglish, absurd comments because he misunderstood a pop culture reference. But most of all, he probably would direct most of his tweets to close friends and we'd get to see his tweets to Louis and about Armand. And the occasional interaction with fans or other celebrities when he figured out retweeting (which would result in the inevitable cancellation that he wouldn't care about at all).

Insta - We discussed this and at first I didn't think that he would have Insta at all. Then aemondsbabe suggested that he would have an account, but he would only post what his PR manager told him to post. I hope someone teaches him to take pictures of things other than shit in Walmart and candids of Louis.

Tumblr - aemondsbabe is a fucking genius! 100% credit where it is due. Lestat would have a Tumblr blog, but wouldn't quite understand that it's not a private diary. In fact, earlier this month during a discussion about this subject, she wrote a blog post for him:

louis, mon cher, how i wish you could be here with me on this, the most périlleuse des nuits… i have fallen prey to an evil poison, a foul spirit! the tour bus, you see, we had to stop to get l'essence ou, how you say, the gasoline… louis, mon cœur, i was tricked at this heinous shoppe! they had peculiar wares, des médicaments, promising virility of the gods! i have taken one and i fear this will end me, mon cher! please avenge me by slaying the most wicked of men known as Daryl! he has taken up résidence at l'Exxon outside of Tampa!

I laughed until I cried! Brilliant!

AO3 - I really don't know that he would find AO3 on his own. I think someone (maybe Graham Norton) would show it to him at some point and then he would speed read everything he could and write a "private" entry about the fics on his Tumblr diary. That would be something to read!

Thank you for this ask, anon! This was so much fun!

I hope AMC goes all out with Lestat on social media the way they gave Daniel his own LinkedIn page. I need him to have a twitter at the very least, but they could so much more.

[onaperduamedee]

Nynaeve might be the character that fascinates me the most so far, even if she's not quite the one I enjoy the most reading - Siuan! Siuan! Siuan!

Nynaeve is such a realistic blend of childishness and maturity. To put it simply, she can go from acting Egwene's age (and Egwene is so young - it's heartbreaking to realise what she went through so young), even younger, in the most infuriating way and the next paragraph she'll be the kind of loving and grounding older friend who could ease the heartaches of early adulthood.

I think her recklessness and refusal to even acknowledge her shortcomings sting all the more that it feels so personal. It's that very specific age between 25 and 30 where I remember feeling isolated and independent, and how that mixture nurtured the stupidest decisions, the most destructive impulses.

Without a doubt, Nynaeve is grown, arguably the most grown among the young heroes, save perhaps Min, and doesn't need to prove it like Egwene does, yet hasn't quite aged either into the stage where she accepts who she is, that she can be wrong about certain things, including who she is, and it is okay to recognise that and change in response.

At times, it feels like Robert Jordan went back in time and called my 26-year old self both a complete imbecile and someone quite wonderful in the becoming, and he would be quite right to do so.

[lethalhoopla]

I am once again losing my mind.

This time: I went to look up references of Varric, and just typed "Varric Tethras" into the search bar. I was going to just tab over immediately to the images section, eyes barely glancing over the obvious top-result fandom wiki, then (more entertainingly, but still expected) Wikipedia link-

but. but the next one.

GOODREADS??

.... There's absolutely no tongue-in-cheek in the entry either.

(of course I immediately clicked on it who do you think I am)

There are 3 quotes from him relating to storytelling, both from 2 and Inquisition, as well as a book attribution:

The Dragon Age Novel Edition of Hard in Hightown.

ATTRIBUTED TO VARRIC TETHRAS.

with Mary Kirby*~

Absolutely unblinkingly written summary/bio.

I love this with my whole heart. Varric you beautiful bastard -- and DA writers/editors (Mary Kirby very much most importantly included) you even more beautiful, dorky, wonderful bastards.

---

*if you're not in the know, Mary Kirby is a cornerstone of the DA writing team, including being the one who was in charge of Varric (and Merrill!). To say she's his "trusted human confidante" is certainly putting it one (delightful) way.

[fluttershywheresheshouldntbe]

SCP #417734547

Rating: Keter (attempts to contain last at most 19-20 hours, method of escape unknown). Mostly peaceful and sometimes apologetic upon containment, though it has acted dangerously at times.

Containment Procedure: Upon being spotted by civilians/the public, an alert is spread over social media site “tumblr”, though awareness of alert varies depending on severity of location it is spotted in, as well as other unknown factors. Forces then identify location and retrieve for storage. Specialty restraints for wings and hooves have been made, but were abandoned after observation that subject is almost always seated and seems to dislike flight. Cell is made to feel “homey” in attempts to coax it into staying, tea and the like provided, but subject always disappears and ends up in another incongruous locale, though rarely it has ended up in the same location more than once.

Description: Subject is a winged horse (Pegasus) with a yellow coat with brown patterns, a pink mane and tail, and large green eyes as well as dark green lashes. Subject is almost always seated, though implicitly moves when unobserved. Subject’s actual size is approximately 2 inches in all diameters, with an inch long tail. However, this size is known to shift to better suit the given environment it ends up in. Subject seemingly displays teleportation abilities, given the range of locations it travels in short periods of time. It has occasionally traveled through time and dimensions as well, with minimal interference detected to the space-time continuum. Subject is capable of being photographed, though videos seem to have issue with capturing movement (same pose is maintained even as angle shifts. Some form of hovering or telekinetic travel?). Teleportation has a tendency towards incongruity with subjects appearance, often appears in dangerous situations and almost never with similar creatures (Notable Exception SCP 9-913). Subject has been attacked and even injured, but seems to heal quickly as these injuries never remain during next manifestation.

Notable Incidents: Subject has on 3 occasions acted seemingly dangerously. 4th of July Incident (minor property damage, seeming political motivation), Incident Regarding Colorado Town (complete nuclear winter, no survivors. Seeming political motivation, as town was notably bigotry heavy), and 9/11 Copycat Incident (Property Damage but lack of casualties. Subject seemed especially confused how it ended up in the plane and surrendered willingly). Colorado incident especially notable as source of nuclear weaponry was never identified though, due to nature of the town, investigation was not considered a priority.

Testing Log: Incidents seemingly happen at consistent times twice daily. Subject has been interviewed regarding teleportation and manifestation capabilities but conversation regarding ability is prone to dead ends and distraction without conclusion. Subject has also willingly been tagged with tracking technology, but this does not travel alongside it during incidents and is therefore unreliable. Subject is seemingly incapable of invoking teleportation unless under extreme peril, and even then ability is inconsistent due to its nervous temperament. Known incidents of teleportation/activity have been documented, archived, and tagged for ease of access on alert blog. Monitoring is continued, but due to general lack of danger is not considered high priority outside of maintaining congruity and safety of subject.

[softquietsteadylove]

I know it’s probably so annoying of me to keep asking for more every time you fulfill one of my prompts, but once again you hit it out of the park with the memory loss au!!! Gil is so sweet and kind and such a good husband who loves his wife no matter what 🥹 i don’t have a specific prompt, but just would love to read more about that journey. Thank you as always for keeping this ship alive, you have a reader in many of us still!

Gil paused in front of the door to the apartment. He leaned his forehead against the door, letting the cool of the air temper his mediocre (at best) day.

He loved his job, he loved the bakery. But the questions about Thena were getting to him. They came from a good place, he knew, and of course they would have their curiosities. But it was hard to deny that he was annoyed with the questions about if it was weird for them.

No, it wasn't.

Of course it was.

He had to come home and gauge if his wife was feeling particularly nervous around him that day. He had to ask how she was feeling because she went out of her way to hide that from him. She was recovering well, but no memories had emerged as of yet.

In his worst moments he really had to wonder if they would at all.

But he couldn't stand outside and dwell forever on that grim thought. He pulled out his keys to unlock the door. Thena herself had said she would leave it unlocked but he told her he would feel a little better if she didn't.

"Hi."

Gil blinked. It wasn't necessarily a welcome home kiss or anything, but Thena was standing by the door, smiling at him as he dropped his backpack where he stood. "Hey."

Her smile wavered faintly, but it certainly wasn't fake. She was nervous. "H-How was work?"

"Uh," Gil tried not to flounder. She was trying something, and he didn't want to discourage her. He also smiled, kicking off his shoes and starting to take off his coat. "It was okay. Kind of long, but at least it's friday, right?"

Thena just nodded, stepping back to let him in. "Come and tell me about it."

Gil tilted his head, squinting at her so long as she wasn't looking at him. It wasn't that she never asked to hear about his day before. But even just last week she was still trying to figure out how to start a casual conversation with him, or ask where they kept the coffee filters (again).

Thena seated herself on the couch, waiting for him expectantly. He chuckled, ruffling the stress out of his hair. When he rounded the corner of the couch he looked at the coffee table. The beer can was visibly cold, on a coaster and everything. "I thought I was out of these."

Thena shifted her knees, tugging at her skirt. "I decided to go to the store, today."

Gil tried not to look freaked out about that. He was just being overprotective, and there was no reason Thena couldn't want to get out of the house for a little. She remembered where the store was...apparently.

"I noticed there weren't any in the fridge, but I picked some up while I was out," she added, tilting her head as he cracked it open. "It smells familiar."

He smiled at that. Smells could be very good for her memory, he had already discovered by way of their laundry detergent, and his cologne. "You want a sip?"

She shook her head, and that made him smile too. "Yeah, I guess you never really had a taste for beer. You don't mind a glass of wine with Kari, though."

"Hm," she sighed as she leaned against the back of the couch. Her eyes were still intent on him. "So?--work?"

He cleared his throat, setting the beer down on its coaster again. "Right, uh...it was okay. Things ran normally, it was kind of quiet, but I guess it's just that time of year. And the weekend guys will be fine."

He had worked the very early mornings for the weekend before, actually. But since Thena's episode he did what he could to be at home whenever she was up and around.

"What do you bake specifically?"

"Oh," he blinked. It was light enough conversation, but Thena asked it like she was going to be quizzed on it later. But then again, he could remember their first date having a similar intensity to it. That was just what Thena was like. "I guess I mostly do the croissants, some of the desserts-"

"I looked up the bakery online today."

"Really?" he tried to ask casually, but she was going somewhere with all this.

Thena looked down at the small but comfortable space between them on the couch, picking at one of the cushion seams. "I considered walking by, but... "

She usually wasn't one to trail off during a sentence, but obviously she had really thought about whether to go through with it or not. Gil scooted just a little closer to her (not enough to spook her). "Hey, that's okay. I probably wouldn't have been able to come out and see you for long, anyway. It's sweet, though."

She looked embarrassed, but didn't shy away from him, at least. "I was worried someone would recognise me and...and I would leave them wanting."

Gil nodded; Thena was quietly terrified of having to meet everyone in their lives all over again. He couldn't blame her. Meeting people was never her specialty, and the pressure on her was now worse than ever. "It's okay, hon. We can face that later."

She sighed faintly, but she allowed him to just sort of wiggle his finger in her direction. She mustered the courage to hook her finger with his. It was small, but it didn't escape him that it was big for her.

"Hey, on sunday we can go by together if you want. Pick up some stuff for brunch here at home?" he suggested it gently, testing the waters. If she truly never wanted to speak to anyone they knew ever again, he didn't really have any argument to stand on.

He was willing to do anything to keep her from considering leaving all together.

"That sounds lovely." She smiled to match his smile, although softer and gently. Her hand did move, from just their fingers linking to more of a tentative hand holding. Affection wasn't her specialty either.

"It's a date," he grinned, unable to contain himself. Thena blinked and he nearly flinched, "I-I mean, not-! It doesn't have to-"

She laughed, though. He had missed that sound like the air he breathed. "My second chance at our first date."

He knew she meant it as a light joke, or maybe even in a self-deprecating way. But he melted. He couldn't help it! His wife was going to go on a date with him!

Thena watched passively as he brought her hand up to his lips. He gave her the chance to pull away, but she didn't. He kissed her knuckle gently. holding on just so he could admire the wedding ring still on her finger.

She had once asked if he had taken his off, and it had horrified him. But he asked if she wanted to take hers off. She had every right, even if the thought made him want to shrivel up and sink into the sea. But Thena had looked at the foreign object on her finger and answered very plainly but honestly: no.

Thena tilted her head at him again, "Gil?"

He gave her hand another kiss before looking at her again. Her hand in his, a beer to his left, it felt a little more like old times. But it was also new, in an endearing way. "So, you looked up the bakery?"

"Yes," she smiled, indulging his much improved mood, even letting him run his finger against her wedding ring. "It's a lovely site, the products are photographed well."

They had an instagram that Sprite mostly ran herself, but Thena didn't actually know that a lot of the product photography on the website had been done by herself back when Gil first got the job.

He had bragged all about how his wife was an amazing artist with a great eye for beauty! Thena had come in and done the photos for the website and then scolded him for embarrassing her.

"They are," he agreed quietly. "And we have some seasonal stuff, too. We'll still have the usual--the croissants, the pain au chocolat, the mont blancs. But we also still have the petit fours right now, since we get so much extra in for valentine's day."

Thena's face betrayed a split second of horror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassured her, and also used it as a great excuse to kiss her again (this time her open palm). "You were still in the hospital then. And we were never really valentine's people anyway."

There was some clear doubt in her eyes at that statement, but she didn't choke out a positively miserable apology (again).

"Besides," Gil put on his most charming smile, which she always said made him look suspicious, "I think valentine's is a little much for our first date, isn't it?"

Thena laughed again, and god he could listen to that for hours. He would make it his ringtone if she would let him. "I suppose that is a little forward of me."

"I mean Thena, I don't know what you heard about me, but I like to take it slow," he continued to joke, relishing in her laughter. It was so light and cute for how stern she always tried to look. "I'll pick you up and everything."

"You'll 'pick me up'?" she repeated back to him with her sandy blonde eyebrows raised. She had plucked them recently; she really was bored sitting at home all day.

"Sure," he shrugged and nodded in the direction of the guest room--her room. "I'll pick you up at 10."

[hua-fei-hua]

nice writer feeling is being able to read your own stuff from four-ish years ago and finding it's still pretty good. maybe not quite like how you'd write it today but definitely not painful to read

[nobrashfestivity]

Everyone Hates Poetry 2024

Rules

Write a poem before Feb.5th and submit it to me with the submit feature or in an ask.

Poems should be less than 500 words

You can use your real name or your blog name but they can't be completely anonymous.

Poems will be published at 9pm on Wednesdays and then a link to each poem will be added to the bottom of this pinned post so people can read them all.

I can't stop anyone from reblogging their own poems and generally sharing art is a wonderful thing, but don't turn it into some kind of social media campaign. because people with a small number of followers would be at a disadvantage. This is supposed to be fun. Please do reblog this post and tag people if you think you know someone on tumblr that might be interested. Since the post will contain links to the submissions, your poem will not be lost in the shuffle.

If I receive less than 10 entries I'll cancel the contest and consider it a failed experiment.

Public voting will begin after the 5th.and account for 50% of the vote

A panel of judges will also vote but will not submit poems themselves, and their votes will make up the other 50% of the final tally.

.There will be small prizes for the winner and runner up.

This is my art blog and will remain so, as it always has been. I'm doing this because poets here don't get much chance to get their stuff read and I have a fair number of followers. It's just a little thing to do if you want. I'm not turning this into a poetry blog or a contest blog or anything else.

Poems don't need to be finished. Due to the one month time frame I would suspect these would be first drafts, but please write something new. I want to encourage people to do something now, however imperfect, rather than showing work that's already done.

Updates will follow. Thank you!

Rule clarifications

-Please dont send poems anonymously if at all possible. I am happy to include a name that doesn't identify your blog directly but it's impossible to refer to or contact people who submit poems anonymously. I can't have anonymous poems considered without at least a name for you and if you were to win a prize, you'd need a name and address to claim it. I don't so much care about the latter part, that's for you, this becomes very disorganized and hard to regulate with anonymous messages floating in.

-Please put the title of your poem above it. If it is below it, I have no way of distinguishing with certainty if it's a title or a last line.

One poem per person please.

if you do not wish to see the poetry contest entries just filter the tag "everyone hates poetry 2024"

Due to the very high volume of submissions I am blogging them more gradually as to give more attention to each one. The same tag, "everyone hates poetry 2024", that you can filter if you do not want to see these can be used to find the submissions. If you follow this tag you'll get them all.

Please note that I am now publishing these as asks, previously I had to retype to keep the formatting and there are simply too many entries

Submissions are now closed, I will be publishing submissions all week and then when all have been posted we will start the voting (stay tuned as to how and when)

[aces-and-angels]

DONATE TO SHAHED'S FAMILY

dear moots/lovely lurkers:

if you've been online for these last few weeks- you may have noticed how often i've been pushing shahed's gfm. her campaign has been verified (source -> no. 224 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet of vetted campaigns). and if y'all haven't had the chance to become acquainted, this is shahed:

shahed is a 21 year old who used to be a student at al-azhar university before the genocide began. with both her parents having taken ill, she is the sole provider for her family right now, including her five siblings, youngest of whom is just a baby. before the war, shahed used to take/share the most beautiful photos. this is one of them (taken from her tumblr @shahednhall | shahed's instagram

with the generous support of friends/strangers alike, shahed has been able to reach over $40K USD, enough to begin evacuating some of her family members (her younger siblings + her father) who are in desperate need of medical care

however, our work is far from over

shahed + her family are 17 strong and they all deserve a chance to live a life worth living. the situation in gaza is beyond catastrophic and grows more dangerous with each passing day. i have been in communication with shahed and would like to share her most recent message to me:

shahed: I have been displaced from my area, my circumstances are very difficult. I can't open the Internet for long periods, so I want you to help me more in publishing my campaign. I want to have reached a very difficult stage. I want to complete the campaign as soon as possible. I want to rest, I feel that I really survived. I don't want my campaign to stop halfway.

just yesterday, shahed shared that she narrowly escaped death while trying to get food/water for her family. the attacks/bombings at her campsite have forced her to move yet again

every displacement puts both a physical and emotional strain on these families. more often than not, there is little warning before they have to move- and when the time comes- they have to act quickly, leaving behind whatever they can't carry on their backs/can't afford to take with them <- yes, it costs money for them to be able to move.

every message i receive fills me with a mixture of relief and heartbreak-- i do not wish to know what i'll feel if i were to stop getting messages from shahed. i can't. not when i know there's a path to get her family to safety

that is why i am starting this donation match for her campaign. i don't have very much to offer, but i know that if enough people contribute a little, it can amount to a lot 🖤

for those able, please consider matching my donation of $5 USD (proof of donation below cut). shahed has a long way to go before she can achieve her goal of $80K. even if you cannot match me at this time (which is totally okay)- please share this post so others may have a chance to help

IMPT NOTE: @journalsforpalestine is raffling a set of beautiful journals. 4 winners will be chosen on August 31st. for anyone interested in entering -> please read the rules here for the first person to reblog & match my donation (and wants to enter in this raffle) i will give you my entry, so you will be entered to win twice* *(every entry= $5, so if you donate more, you will be entered accordingly).

current stats: $42,726 raised of $80,000 goal

tags for reach (sorry yall- please let me know if you wish to be removed from this list- no hard feelings, truly 🖤)

@timetravellingkitty @meaganfoster @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako 

@feluka @terroristiraqi @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria 

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees 

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45 @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis 

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca 

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts 

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat 

@watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates

@parsnipjunction @mintmoth @mrfluffyturtle @colombinna @tinygalaxykid

@br-eddrolls @0luna123 @block-swing-perry @eflatminorseven @mothtral

@charlie-charlie @bitterlyromantic @pseudonymousposting @divineclouds

@interact-if

@agnesandhilda @frostbitefae @dove-tears @soljierpg @assad-zaman

@claudeleine @error-core-animations @kengi-bengi-alt @juneybug @kodigobacktosleep

@apocalyptic-dancehall @imnotthepersonyouseek @toonirl @kingofthebookcase

@kazehita @yonch @ayoedebiris @pinkdreamscape1 @king-dail 

@caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @killy @missusmousse @j0ckhead

@whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars @trexpel @mischief16

@aria-ashryver @mydemonsdrivealimo @cadybear420 @thosehallowedhalls @ascindio

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[shanieveh]

“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You know, all I want is to spend some time with Nikto on his off-days and have him read Dostoyevski to me, if you don't want to make this like a single fic you can maybe incorporate it into "ravishing allure" some time later 🥹

"…and there can be no love otherwise."

PAIRINGS: Nikto x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: If anyone could make the bad days better, it was Nikto.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: Stress from work/life, lack of sleep, mostly fluff, comfort, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There were times you wondered if putting up with your job was really worth it. Sure, you needed the money to pay rent, food, and bills, among a laundry list of others that just seemed to never end, but was the cost of your sleep the metaphorical soul you had to hand over? 

Every day you came home tired to your little apartment—neighbors loud and the light in the bathroom flickering because the electrician had never shown up to fix it. Tired, but unable to fall asleep until everything else was done. So, you’d make dinner, clean, shower, sit down to mindlessly watch a show on TV for half an hour, and then stumble into bed. 

Only to stay awake and stare at the ceiling. 

You can’t say why you do it, thinking over the things you did wrong and the awkward conversations you have with coworkers; you shouldn’t care about it—really, you shouldn't. Yet you can’t stop your brain from slipping like a slide to every instance, every millisecond where you felt the air of the interaction change. Side-eyes and confused looks. 

And then at six o’clock, you’d drag yourself out of bed with bags on your face and a drained expression to do it all over again. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” 

“Oh, of course, we have some in the back—I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you! You have a good day now, Sir. Come back soon.”

It just felt fake. Greet, help, take money, wave and smile, repeat, repeat, repeat. But maybe today would be slightly different, by the second pair of shoes that were placed in your apartment entry as you slowly opened the front door. 

Boots—black and set an equal distance apart with a cleaned surface despite the places they’d been and what they’d probably stepped through. They were neatly situated under the small bench you had for convenience, and you blink at them as you softly shut the door and lock it. A large, and matching in color, jacket was folded and placed atop the flat surface—keys sitting in an indent. 

Nikto, ever the neat and tidy one. He must be back then. 

While the two of you didn’t live together, the bear of a man had made a habit of coming over when he returned from deployments with KorTac—you’d given him a key the second year you’d been together. 

Your ears faintly twitch to the sound of cooking, nose moving just a second later to the scent of something on the stove. Clinking pans and silent footsteps. He knew you were here, sure as anything. Weakly sighing, you shift out of your jacket and shoes; tossing them in the general direction of the bench as you rub at your eyes and drop your purse to the floor with a slap of canvas. 

How do you explain looking like shit? 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you undo some of the buttons on your blouse to let yourself breathe, dress pants running along the carpet as your feet pad like a hound’s slapping paws. Vision blurry and eyelids threatening to close on you, you find the tall man in front of the stove, moving something in a pan with sizzling oils with the wide flex of his shoulders.

On another burner, there’s a large pot of simmering water—the counter has already been cleaned up of flour and mess, a tidy pile of dirty items sitting in the sink to be washed. You stare for a second before you grumble a hello, forcing your body to sag into his back as you walk over and slap your forehead into his spine. 

Nikto grunts lowly in response and continues what he’s doing. 

While it wasn’t rare to find him in the kitchen—in fact, you prefer it when he cooks—but usually when he got back you opted to order supper. He always insisted, gruffly, that he wasn’t tired, but you just wanted him to relax.

It was fun to baby him. 

“Didn’t know you were going to be back today,” you whisper into him, arms hanging by your sides. 

“We were released early,” his voice is deep and harsh—a bark of his Russian accent and rasp. Every word is thought out and said with purpose. “Conflict in schedule.”

You hum lowly, and it’s immediately after that Nikto stiffens, back going straighter. It’s the fact that you don’t even notice that you’ve completely screwed up your own routine that tips him off; how your change in pace had made him initially suspicious as he’d heard you enter the apartment. 

You hadn't commented on his eyes. Hadn’t tried to get him to turn around to see them. 

There was a running gag that Nikto tolerated—you’d grab him carefully by the chin and tilt his blank eyes to you in all of their icy glory. Sparks of glass and chilled storms inlay near the pupils. You’d stare, smile, and then say, “Yup, he’s still in there.” 

Even if you couldn’t see it under his balaclava, Nikto’s lips would part and he’d study your face for a minute in silence, before lightly bonking his forehead to yours. A strange and unique kiss that only he could perfect in his intimidating way. 

You hadn’t even attempted that. 

Nikto puts down the fork he was using to push around the fried potatoes and mushrooms; Pelmeni still simmering in the pot for another five minutes. The cut-up dill and melted butter on the counter are pushed from his mind with a purpose in his veins.

“What is wrong with you?” Nikto turns and you stifle a fatigued snort as you look up at him. It wasn’t his fault, of course. English isn’t his first language, and you found his broken, or sometimes bare-bones blunt, sentences to be endearing.

“Such a way with words, hm?” You can’t help but tease, and you can see the annoyed furrow of his brown brows, nose huffing a breath. “Just tired, Nikto.” Your words make his gaze slide along the very visible bags and the red veins of your eyes. 

He mutters something in Russian under his breath, lids narrowing on you as he grasps your shoulders and moves you back so he can look you up and down slowly in a near clinical breakdown of atoms. As if he can peel back clothes and splay nerves to light. 

“You look horrible…Sickly.” You can see the brain working as your lips go into a line to stay off your loud laugh. “Like dead woman walking.”

He was so much better with actions than words, this beast of wide shoulders and shifting thighs that could crush your bones to dust in an instant. You liked that about him—you never had to guess when he was being genuine or not.

“Work’s been rough,” you chuckle lowly, sliding on a fake smile that doesn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing I can’t…figure out, okay? Thanks for making supper, I love when you cook.”

Nikto’s eyes soften just a smidge, his hands holding your flesh just the littlest bit tighter. His expansive chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh, the bulk of his stomach and pecs visible under the tucked black t-shirt and his spare cargo pants.

Without a word, you’re being lifted with little more than a huff of, “моя нежная девочка… keep awake.”

You squeak as you’re settled onto his shoulder, hanging off like a sack of grain as his arm wraps over the top of your tailbone—large other hand on your thigh and fingers firmly grasping your skin. 

“Nikto—!”

“Hush,” he grunts, a bark of a chuckle wafting out as your hand playfully hits his back with a pathetic slap. The man raises a brow, smirking under his face covering. “What do you expect to do with that, girl?” 

“To let you know,” you poke at his spine and he shifts your farther down his shoulder in retaliation as you scramble and grasp at his shirt; giggling as your head sways to his steps. “That I won't go quietly!” 

“Good to know,” he grumbles. “I would want nothing less, eh?” 

His hands make sure that you don’t fall, even if you were to start wiggling or slipping.

You go limp and let him carry you into the living room, face burning with appreciation as your limbs let themselves rest. Nikto slings you back over his shoulder and drops you to the couch as you laugh, head purposely hitting the pillow as your chest rises and falls with breaths. 

The man stares down at you as you chuckle in gasps, always one to stare at any chance he gets. His arms crossed at his chest, feet apart, and shadow slipping over you from the overhead light. You gaze up silently, a smile on your lips, and quizzically raise to your brow.

“Stay,” is what he says to you, icy vision sliding down your body with a hum of approval. He sends a teasing slap to your thigh before striding back into the kitchen, narrowly missing your leg kicking out at his arse. 

Nikto scoffs at your attempt and disappears.

Normally you’d run at him and jump on his back, hanging off like an animal, but being as fatigued as you are, you call a mumbled curse at his name and curl sideways. Your face nuzzles into the pillow, smiling lightly before you let your eyes momentarily close.

You must have taken a quick nap because it seemed not even a second later that you were being shaken awake by a hand on your arm; spreading up to run over your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Милая.” You sigh, vision blurry and your head pounding. A strong scent hits your nose and you perk—rubbing at your eyes and face. “Eat.”

A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms and another bowl of Pelmeni are on the coffee table, and the former is shoved into your face by a strong hand, the small dumplings topped with melted butter and dill. 

“Pelmeni,” Nikto states in a monotone, blinking at you as if you don’t know his own culture’s food by now. He made them often enough, which was why you liked him so much—food was truly the way to your love.

You’d taken up baking some of Nikto’s favorite desserts once, had failed horribly, and left most of the kitchen work to him—but the funny thing was that whenever you did bake, the man still always cleaned his plate. You’d never seen him turn down your food, even when you could see his eyes scrunch with restrained aversion.

“Да,” he would grunt out, “good.” It was so strained you always laughed so hard your lungs hurt after. On the off-hand, Nikto’s skills in the kitchen were enough to get you to sell your car for just another bite. 

Sitting up, you carefully take the bowl and look up at him, smiling deeply. 

“Thank you, Nik.” The man hums and turns his head away, still unused to outright affection even two years in. “Nikto~” you draw out his name, tilting your head to the side and trying to catch his gaze again. 

“Silence, woman,” he growls with no real heat, huffing before carefully placing his forehead to yours again as you expected him to. You giggle and stare into his eyes smugly. 

You knew what he was waiting for. Your blood runs hot, face going into a picture of care. His blues blink at you as snowflakes mingle with mist; a mix of cold and desolate landscapes that offer no reprieve from harm besides the small glint of fire they gain when they lock with yours. 

“Yup,” you whisper, and Nikto’s shoulders loosen as he presses more deeply into your skin. “He’s still in there.” 

He stares intensely, and the faintest of twitches under his balaclava tell you all you need to know. 

Nikto makes sure you eat your fill and when you’re done he takes the dishes and washes them while you shower and get into pajamas. Sluggish, but warmed by a full stomach and your boyfriend’s care. You come out to find he’s already reclining on the couch, book in hand as the other bends behind his neck. Lights were low and the heat turned up. Nikto opens his side to you and your body snuggles next to him—it had taken a long time to earn his trust like this; to be near him and to freely give affection.

It would be longer still until you saw his face, but you can live with that. There was no rush, and you knew it was a large soft spot even if he’d never shared the details as to why.

You sigh deeply and Nikto grunts, moving his arm behind your back and keeping you to his chest as he reads. 

This is a common sight from him, and he begins reading to you in his mother tongue from the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, the grit and gravel of his voice sliding into words and sensations as you practically feel it coming from his chest and throat. Your head situates itself under his chin, feeling his free hand playing with your hair until you go brain-dead except to the way he feels and sounds. Harsh words had never been more gentle.

Halfway through he switches to English, his sentences now more slow and thought out and your lashes flutter; breath soft as you take in his scent of oakmoss and amber. His heart beats steady and true. 

“‘To love is to suffer,’” he reads, fingers rubbing circles into your clothes and letting you sleep as the day grows faster into a cold night. He glances down with easy eyes, gripping you just a bit closer as your body entirely goes limp in his embrace. “‘...And there can be no love otherwise.’” 

He silences himself and watches for a moment before he closes the book, dropping it silently to the coffee table and staring past you at the ceiling. The man feels your warmth bleed into his scarred and damaged skin and whispers something akin to vindication.

Nikto listens to your steady breathing and holds you. Steady. Noiseless. 

He grunts to himself and only presses you closer.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[maniculum]

Perlesvaus (Evans translation)

So I'm taking another stab at reading the Sebastian Evans translation of Perlesvaus, for... reasons. Or the High History of the Holy Graal, as he titles it -- funnily enough, the people who put out this reprint apparently looked at the title, said "we're not doing that", and spelt it Grail on the cover.

Despite the bizarre choices in diction, it's still pretty fun, and I want to share some particularly entertaining bits of this text with y'all. (For those of you who aren't up on the two different translations of Perlesvaus and don't know what I mean by "bizarre choices", the Evans translation is from 1898 but pretending to be from, like, 1498.)

N.B.: Marginal notes in red are from the last time I tried this -- they stop showing up roughly a quarter of the way through the book, because that's when I decided to buy the Bryant translation instead.

I just find this funny because "who cares?" strikes me as such a modern thing to say. To me it is a phrase that seems most natural coming from a teenage character in late-20th-century media. But nope. "Who careth?"

This is here just for the bizarre scene. We have three women coming into the throne room (riding mules directly into the building, by the way). One is carrying a severed head decorated with silver and gold. Another has "a pack trussed behind her with a brachet thereupon" -- you can see from the notes that I had to look up "brachet", found out it was an old word meaning roughly "female scent-hound", and then had the mental image of this woman carrying around a beagle in a baby-bjorn.

Again something I find funny. Gawain just leaping through the air to interpose himself between the horses and this hermit, like he's trying to take a bullet for them. This is entirely because he is 100% certain the hermit will handle the saddles incorrectly, and when the hermit assures him he actually does know how this stuff works, Gawain calms down & lets him do it.

This is, for my money, one of the funniest things in all of Perlesvaus, which is saying something because it is a bonkers text. This lady rolls up and provides that description, and the hermit recognizes who she's talking about. Like, "oh yes I did see a knight with a heart of steel and the navel of a virgin". I want to give this description to a sketch artist. (I kind of want to throw it at an AI just to see what it comes up with, but you know. I don't want to encourage the machines.)

This time I'm nit-picking the translation, because that strikes me as a misplaced modifier. Obviously it's meant that Gawain is unaware of events, but the sentence is constructed to make it sound like it's referring to the building itself, which is of course unaware because it's a building and isn't aware of anything. (Also, side note, I like the phrase "as methinketh!")

One more, and I'm leaving this for now...

Here is a case where I was going to complain, but on further examination, I must hand it to Evans. I assumed that he was just randomly archaizing, but I looked it up after uploading this photo, and according to the OED, this was a valid alternate spelling of sovereign from the 17th to the 19th century. (Interestingly, the latest attested example on the OED is from 11 years before this translation was published, meaning this is evidence it was in use slightly longer than the OED entry would suggest -- does anyone know if there's still a way to submit instances of a word to the OED?)

[sindar-princeling]

LOTR Newsletter 3 Shire Drift - FAQ

Hello everyone!

Just like last year: for those of you who are already familiar with The Lord of the Rings Newsletter, this serves as an announcement that I'm doing it again; and for those who aren't - an introduction to the project :)

What is LOTR Newsletter?

I'm one of the people who subscribed to Dracula Daily in May 2022, and immediately thought, "Hey, I can do this too but with XYZ!" - XYZ being The Lord of the Rings. Because the events of LOTR also have specific dates ascribed to them, we're gonna be reading LOTR as it happened.

When does it take place?

Because of the way the beginning of LOTR is structured (read: because I don't want to leave six-month-long breaks between the first entries), we're gonna start on September 15th - a week before September 22nd, when the main events start to take place. It's also the publishing date of the Silmarillion, but that's just a fun fact for my own enjoyment.

From September 15th to September 19th, we'll read the prologue, and the fragments preceding Frodo's departure from the Shire. From September 20th, we'll be reading according to the dates in the book until April 8th. Then we'll be reading last parts of the book - which are stretched over a long time - once a week, to once again avoid lengthy breaks in delivery.

The Newsletter will last from September 15th to May 26th.

Where do I go if I want to post/talk about something related to the Newsletter with other readers?

We discuss current (and not only current) entries in the #lotr newsletter tag, and we have a Discord server set by the amazing @k-she-rambles! (I really hope this time I managed to generate a link that never expires...)

How do I subscribe?

Since the original platform I was using (TinyLetter) was shut down halfway through the second year of the newsletter, I had to figure out an alternative way to execute this project.

For the lovely people who joined the last edition of the newsletter, just a short announcement - I weighed all the pros and cons and decided to continue carrying out the newsletter the way I did after TinyLetter shut down.

For the new folks, a lengthier explanation: check out this post if you want to learn the details, but long story short: I can't send the newsletter as e-mails anymore, so instead I decided to provide you with a ready copy of the entire thing. I prepared formatted copies of the whole newsletter - September 15th to May 26th - as an .odt file, as a .pdf file, and most importantly as an .epub file, because I assume most of you are reading on your phones (if you don't already have an .epub reader, I use FBReader, and everything worked fine on my phone). At the beginning you'll find the whole table of contents with hyperlinks, so the navigation inside the document should be easy!

The MEGA folder can be accessed right here, and it's available for everyone!

In the folder linked, you'll also find a calendar file made by @none-ofthisnonsense that you can download on your phone and import into your calendar app so that all days when we read are marked in your calendar!

If you want to receive notifications about when there is an entry to read, you can also follow @is-today-a-lotr-newsletter-day and turn on notifications! This is a blog created solely for notifying you all when we're reading a new fragment of the newsletter, so all notifications you'll get will be about new entries, and nothing more. The notifications are meant to be the equivalent of sending e-mails.

Anything else I should know?

Please don't rat me out to Tolkien Estate/j, and have fun reading!

(And as a PS.: Thank you very much if you join - or join again! Last year was very tumultuous because of all the changes in the format, and I know the new way is not for everyone - but introducing more changes again felt like once more creating new chaos, so I decided to stick to a solution that mostly worked. I hope you understand!)

See you on September 15th!

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

[archeo-starwars]

You wouldn't happen to have an extensive layout dissection of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant? Or even a list of all notable and obscure sections of the Jedi Temple? OR or even labelled areas that are public and reserved for only temple residents. Both from canon and legends, please and thank you!!!

The best I managed to find comes from Star Wars Complete Locations - you may check out the whole archived version here. The “zoom in” option is pretty good for reading details. Below the pages (I suppose the best is to open them in new tab for better reading):

As for the list of locations, I recommend wookiepedia's list. Plenty of data, both for Legends and New Canon.

Additional sources worth to check out:

Jedi Temple Locations & Jedi Temple History - both published as official material on star wars.com in regard to prequels and New Canon sources. Pictures and references to various places inside Temple.

Star Wars.com's The Clone Wars episode guide + videoclips from the series, like

A) Jedi Archives Tour (the entrance to one of the most restricted areas of the temple: The Holocron Vault).

B) Layout of Jedi Temple Library (source)

C) Jedi Temple funeral room + environment illustration by Tara Rueping (source)

Old Data Bank for Jedi Temple

HoloNews mentioning "a mob of 20 university students attempted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple" and "managing to get as far as the Second Atrium Lobby"

Star Wars Battlefront (2) game wiki provides some map and location description

and if you have time (and patience) you can watch gameplay from 501st Legion's mission in Jedi Temple for reference, like this one

The wookiepedia's articles should give enough good idea of the rooms, their location and functions, but I'm adding a few source pages:

STAR WARS: FACT FILES #36 provides a lot informations what and where was inside the Temple and some general data about visitors, security, Grand Balcony, Grand Corridor & Towers. Not all is super specific, but worth checking out for sure.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia mentions this:

and for Jedi Temple entry:

As for the named locations that are public or reserved for only temple residents, there is definitely a division like that, however I'm not sure if this issue was very well explained. The source gives us some ideas, like for example, Jedi Archives have data accessible only for Jedi with rank of Master or higher (thus most likely separated areas to study). At the same time, Fact Files #25 says that Jedi Archives offers an "excellent resources to researchers, including star-map hologram consoles", but also an access to entire scientific and historical knowledge of the Republic

so non-Jedi were allowed to use Jedi Library/Archives for their own research and work-related needs. We also must remember that the Jedi Order had various scientific branches, including archaeology, exploring unknown regions, and medicine, so logically thinking Jedi worked with other, non-Jedi specialists of many fields.

We also know from various sources, that politicians and important guests were invited for various occasions. We could see in Republic comics series that Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and senator Ask Aak were allowed to listen to Jedi reporting before High Council about his last battle

or attending Jedi Funeral like Duchess Satine and Padme Amidala did for the (fake) Obi-Wan's one or just visiting as a friend/comrade-in-arm

I would need to make more research about this issue as there is plenty tie-in material to Jedi Temple on Coruscant that would take a lot time to study, but at this moment, I think the best is assume how far a non-Jedi may walk into Temple will depend greatly who is that person and what is nature of their business with Jedi.

At the same time, Purge: Seconds to Die has this line "Clone Troopers? This deep in the Temple? Not permitted."

The Jedi was in Archives herself, so it is worth to take into account that clones could have more limited access to Temple than the average guest before war did. At the same time, clone troopers could make a report before Yoda and Mace Windu/High Council, as was presented by Star Wars Tales (Honor Bound):

so it is not like they were outright forbidden to enter the temple either.

Hope it will help!

[tau1tvec]

[ quote ]

Cain was invited by Bethesda's Todd Howard to the premiere event at the Chinese Theater in LA, and seemed to enjoy the big budget celebration of the Fallout series. As for the show itself, Cain had nothing but praise for the premiere, which consisted of the season's first two episodes. "I was literally at the edge of my seat," he said.

Cain appreciated the performances and storytelling, but singled out how the show nailed the Fallout "vibe" as its biggest achievement. "I was just looking at all the props," he said of one scene. "I realized after a few minutes went by that I had not followed the dialogue at all, because I was so engrossed by it visually."

On a more sour note, Cain took time to address the way fans of the series can behave poorly online, particularly regarding any perceived rivalry between Fallout entries developed by Bethesda (3, 4, and 76), and those from Interplay, Black Isle, and Obsidian (1, 2, and New Vegas). Cain spoke positively of Todd Howard, and said that "Some of the stuff you [series fans] say online is so off."

At the premiere Cain also caught up with Brian Fargo, founder of original Fallout publisher Interplay and currently the head of RPG studio inXile. In the past, Cain criticized Fargo when explaining why he left development on Fallout 2 to found his own studio, but Cain made it clear that their relationship is amicable, and that the development of Fallout 2 was a complicated situation from over 20 years ago: "People remember things differently, things happen differently, things affected people differently."

Unfortunately, Fargo seems to have experienced abuse online from fans reacting poorly to Cain's story, reactions which the developer strongly disavowed. "If we can get along, you guys can get along," Cain insisted.

"You guys can be really destructive," Cain said, "Which is odd, because you do it to people who are trying to make things."

[ end quote ]