I don't know how people make these descriptions so pithy. American, 34, white, bi/pan, demi, in committed ltr, and I don't have many fandoms but the ones I do I do hard.
Someone who I follow but who does not follow me posted a snippet of the middle of one of my epic fics and commented that it was adorable.
I do not know the etiquette. Should I comment? Is that weird? I do not know Tumblr at all.
The best part is I read the snippet and was like “oh I read that one, I liked it, wasn’t it long? oh i wrote it and it’s 100k.” And it took me like, way too long to get to the italicized conclusion.
HASA will be retired and taken offline at the end of the year. This is not being done lightly, and there is a lot of sorrow surrounding the decision.
In case you or someone you know posts (or used to post) on Henneth Annûn Story Archive: you have until December 31 to repost your stories somewhere else.
The Silmarillion Writers’ Guild has the Library of Tirion project, and Dawn has more information about ways to save your stories in the SWG’s announcement of the closing. (I also have list of Tolkien fanfic archives if you’re looking for other archives.)
Please signal-boost this; the more time people have to repost their fics elsewhere, the more stories can be saved.
#hasa#henneth-annun.net#fanfiction#transformative works#fan works#fandom#tolkien#this is what happens when fanfic archives are privately owned#unless the owner is an awesome person like commodoremarie#who handed libraryofmoria over to volunteers#when zie was hella busy and couldn’t run it anymore (stewardish)
I don’t remember my login. I had a lot of stuff in drafts on there. Some of it dates from before I began to organize my stuff on my computer in any way, shape, or form. :/ Oh well. I’ve been meaning to go back through all that stuff anyway.
follow-up: On Pedantry
Rereading my earlier ranting on the innocent use of an anachronistic slang term, it seems to me that maybe it comes across as harsh or twerpy or what-have-you. Like, what does it really hurt if a character uses a slang term that wasn’t invented for another forty years?
Nothing. It doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s okay. It’s just… As with most things, says the impassioned history nerd, it is so much more interesting if you do it right. Accuracy for accuracy’s sake is so goddamn rewarding— not because you’re being painfully right about something, but because in the effort you usually uncover so much more.
I would not have known what I now know about the long history of Irish gangs (look up the Dead Rabbits sometime, look up Legs Diamond, that’s both ends) if I hadn’t looked up “mook” and tried to figure out just when the Mafia got such a hold in New York. And it opened up such a rich mine of information to me, and made the setting that much clearer and deeper.
That’s all I mean. I don’t mean you should derail your writing and only do research, only publish something if you’ve had time to read ten books and fact-check every word. Lord knows I’m not that careful, and I’ve had to teach myself to just dive in sometimes. You have to, sometimes.
It’s just, the effort is so often worth it. It’s so much more interesting to know the truth than to take it as read and move on from your assumptions. It’s just so much more interesting.
Weird pet peeve: Well. This got complicated as soon as I started trying to explain it.
As one does, I read a lot of stories set in 1930s/40s Brooklyn, or with scenes set there/then, because of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. And there’s lot of Brooklyn Boys stuff going around, and Bucky getting his old accent back and such.
And so many authors put the word “mook” into his mouth, and it has started driving me nuts, water-torture-style. At first, I almost used it; I typed it, looked at it, and thought huh, I don’t know where that word comes from. So I went to Google and typed it into the search bar and was instantly given a very clear, non-confusing explanation: it first appeared in 1973 in the Scorsese film Mean Streets.
On one level, that’s enough to be annoying: it’s a 70s term and therefore to put it into the mouth of a character in the 30s is anachronistic.
But the other level is what made me devote way too much time to it: the genericization of New York into Italian. I fall into this sometimes, in my head; the “Brooklyn” accent sounds nothing so much as current-Long-Islandy, and that’s the accent of the Sopranos. Generic New York Gangstery.
Listen. Listen. I haven’t watched TFA in a while but I just watched TWS, and the scene where Bucky offers to take Steve in— listen to that accent. It’s not the front-of-mouth soft-consonants of TV Italian gangsters. It’s the archaic high-flat rear-of-mouth accent of old New York, flavored by Old New England and Ireland in equal measure. It’s the language of Walt Whitman, very old-fashioned, very flat. It’s how my grandmother spoke.
This is actually a really crucial period of history; the Irish and Italians hated one another, back then. The Irish had run New York for generations, waves of them immigrating and carving a space for themselves, the gangs and political machines a substitute for ineffective and untrustworthy government. During Prohibition the Irish gangs overstepped themselves, slid into unmitigated criminality, and were destroyed; in the 30s, in the aftermath of that, was when the Italian gangs started to slide into the power vaccuum, and after that, that was when the New York we know from television and movies came into being. But at this point of history? No, not yet.
(Hilarious that Sebastian Stan would be so thoroughly coached in the Brooklyn accent and so unashamedly, unmitigatedly terrible in Russian that even I can tell, as a non-Russian speaker, that he definitely does not sound like he can speak the language. Hilarious, or intentional? Was it meant to be true that the Winter Soldier cannot speak Russian well? It has to have been; Stan speaks at least three languages, I cannot believe he could not manage a sentence in good Russian if he were coached.)
tl;dr stop making Bucky call people mooks, unless your point is that he just had a Scorsese film binge.
It’s so long since I had asthma problems that I had kind of forgotten how much it hurts.
It’s not, like, agony or anything. It’s just sort of dull and it aches. Like something very heavy is sitting there. And breathing takes conscious effort.
And the longer it goes on the worse it is, even if it’s not any objectively worse.
New health insurance means better prescription coverage means I finally filled the prescription for the asthma maintenance inhaler I was prescribed in 2011.
I’ve been taking it for a week. Today I spent… going on 12 hours wheezing, unable to take in enough air to function unless I’m sitting perfectly still.
Come on man. It’s years since I had this much trouble breathing. Am I, I dunno, allergic to asthma meds? This was supposed to make it *better*.
Bonus mid-week update because I was so enamored of the chapter I had to get it out, plus I’m making structural progress and want to reward myself for buckling down and working on it:
Tony didn’t hear Barnes come in, because he was listening to Black Sabbath’s album Paranoid on full-volume. He was in a bit of a zone, chasing down inspiration and hammering out the problem of the interface of the sensors with the neural transmitters by completely ignoring the entire problem and working on something else (an idea he had for a very small reactor to power just the prosthetic, much smaller than the one for the Iron Man suits, a miniaturized miniature arc reactor, which was still ridiculously overkill but that was kind of his signature style), and he was absently air-guitaring to the really good part of “Hand of Doom” ([dundundundundundundun DUN DUH DUN] oh yoooooouuuu [chung chung chung chung] you know you must be blind [dun DUH duh] to dooooooo [chung chung chung chung] something like thi-i-is) when he happened to turn and Barnes was standing right fucking there and he yelped and leapt three feet straight up.