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So I just finished reading Part 1, and I'm so glad I finally got the chance to do it.

(spoiler block goes here there and everywhere spoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywherespoiler block goes here there and everywhere)

Right, that's probably more than enough.

Anyway, yeah, I'm really enjoying this so far.

Favorite part: July stepping back into the PPC. That was amazing.

Favorite line: "I quit the PPC. It doesn't mean I quit her." Seriously, I love that line. It's wonderful.

And nice hook at the end with Library! We don't know who she convinced, and we don't know what's in the white box July gave her, and...well, it's a good hook for wanting to read on.

All in all: enjoyed it a lot, both writing style and content (and Ilraen's cameo!) Looking forward to reading more.

~Z

There is an interesting mix of lines that make me remember that these people were writing from a very different cultural context and lines that directly mirror things people write today. I agree, some of them really do remind me of 'Texts From Last Night'. I suppose in many ways we are not that different from the humans of two thousand years ago...

When we're talking overseas shipping - and remember we have members from at least six different countries here - you could be looking at twice the price of the book in some cases.

A few years back, we did a PPC postcard exchange, where people passed their addresses to a single person who dealt them out at random. It worked okay... once. No-one was really interested in doing it a second time.

Unfortunately, it seems that most of your post is just an attempt to work out the kinks in the shipping side - and I don't think they're resolvable. It's just too complex.

hS

I guess you could do it by copying the whole thing into Google Docs and adding comments, but is it something that can be done in an actual e-book format?

I quite like that part of the idea. Otherwise, it's just 'pls recommend me some old books', which isn't really the same thing.

hS

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Happy Birthday to you, eatpraylove.

I wish you the best for your 23rd!

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Here, have a triple chocolate cupcake (chocolate with chocolate chips and chocolate icing)! Don’t forget to blow out the candle and make a wish!

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I like this idea.

You've mentioned three concerns: high costs of postage, the risk of a borrower absconding with the borrowed books, and the privacy issues that arise with giving out a mailing address to a stranger on the Internet.

So, I have an idea, and while this doesn't address how satisfying it is to actually get a parcel in the mail or hold an actual printed book in your hands, it does address the problems you've already realized: what if we started trading things like public domain E-books? There are many over at Project Gutenberg, especially old classics that weren't copyrighted or that have had their copyright expire. The hard part is finding something that appeals to you out of all those titles and that's where having a large group with similar interests could come in handy in helping to sort through the massive amount of books to find what you're looking for.

You've also mentioned that there could be the potential for an emotional or a personal aspect to this, such as reading the annotations or the remarks left by the previous readers, which is also something that could be done electronically. After all, it's one thing to get a copy of an E-book, but it's another to get an E-book that a friend liked and recommended to you specifically based on what you like or don't.

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Yep, today marks year number 23 around the sun for yours truly. Fortunately I have two--two!--lovely Barnes and Noble gift cards to pamper myself with. And a cute turtle charm from my boyfriend, because he's actually the best. :D

Please say so. If you don't like it, don't care about it, don't think people would care about it, please say so, and explain why. I might be missing something extremely important or simple here. I know I can be a little dim at times and if I've seriously missed something, just know that this idea is and was in earnest, with good intent. I am really just looking for any feedback at all on this.

In my quest for the obscure I came across this database of Ancient Roman graffiti found in the ruins of Pompeii:

http://www.pompeiana.org/Resources/Ancient/Graffiti%20from%20Pompeii.htm

It reminds me of the website Texts From Last Night, Texts From Nights Long Past, perhaps?

I'll add some badfic to the thread if I see anything. Hang on, do you guys spork Creepypastas? They seem to be a bit different from other fanfic in that the ones that are actually fanfic (Lost Episode pastas, Weird Things My Game Did pastas, etc.) tend to be less story-like (haphazard plots, not too much involvement of canons, etc.) I was going to search for some to see if I could find anything, but then I realized that about the nature of the genre. Any thoughts?

-Twistey

That's the point, the post didn't make any sense, thus I labeled it high-density ultraweirdness.

Thoth is another PPCer who is into Warhammer 40K. He's a pretty good dude, and is active frequently here. He also has a friend he recruited called Grundleplith The Dorf, but the latter doesn't seem to have been active lately.

Huh, you seem to have a good deal of stuff figured out. I'll leave this to you, then.

-Twistey

Oh dear. On second thought, I wonder if I should avoid the Discord server, just to keep my sanity...

-Twistey

(Thongs can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.)

I don't really buy a lot of those "playing a sound like such and such turns it into messages/words/etc" things unless it's an Easter egg in a game (e.g. the one from Portal where the radio sounds can be run through an audio-to-visual program and it'll produce a picture of a Companion Cube on the moon.) Can you further explain?

-Twistey

"What do you mean you don't have any other clothes?"

Cass sighed and flopped onto the bed like a sack of studiously indifferent potatoes. "I don't need any other clothes, Em. That's what the Disguise Generator's for."

"Oh. My. God. You have not been wearing the same outfit for the past three months." Em clambered out of the armchair and folded her arms, her foot tapping indignantly on the floor. "Like, have you even been doing laundry?"

"... Spells count, right?"

"You are unbelievable."

"You're a weregerbil."

"Don't change the subject." Em twitched her nose. "We are taking you clothes shopping and don't even try to get out of it."

"Look, Emma, if you want to go clothes shopping, I won't stop you. Go. Take my purse if you want to, I know you blew threw your money for this month already. I just don't care about how I look. It doesn't matter to me."

"Huh." Emma stopped tapping her foot, deep in thought. "Damn. You hate it that much?"

"Hate implies I care about it."

"Huh."

The clock in the corner of the room ticked. Every one seemed louder than the last. The RC beeped the beep of the righteous. The bathroom mirror prophesied their inevitable doom, which told them it was a Tuesday.

"Can I ask a question, Cass?"

"You may."

"Pedant. Anyway, were you serious about me taking your purse shopping on El Worldo Uno? I know how you are with money."

"If it got me out of a shopping trip I would let you have my friggin' kidney."

"Wow. Uh. Okay. I mean, uh, I knew you didn't like it? But... yeah."

"I'm technically an adult, and adults get to decide what that means. In my case? Wear one set of clothing until it's basically a bunch of loosely connected holes, then buy the exact same outfit. Clothes shopping is an experience akin to having both my legs broken with a hammer and I never want to do it again."

"Fine! Jeez. Like, you made your point."

"Hey, I wouldn't make you go to LeakyCon-"

"Ugh. Gurl, for real, can you not with that name? I know what the history is, but it just sounds like a bunch of old folks packed into a convention centre talking about adult diapers."

"My point exactly."

"Dude, I said you already made your damn point. I get it, okay?"

"Yeah. I... yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay, Cass." Em sat down beside her and ruffled her hair. "You're okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to ever again, okay?"

The clocks kept ticking. Louder and louder. Filling the silence until Cassie could speak again.

"Okay."

[REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~]

"Ohfercryinoutloud. Cass, you wanna get that?"

"Sure. Um. Wow. Potterverse AU where all the magic is replaced with spy gadgets. This seems... dumb."

"Oh, jeez. At least it's your wheelhouse."

"And I know you came from KP, so the spy stuff? Your wheelhouse. Come on, Em, let's get the DG out. Black cargo trousers and T-shirts ahoy."

"Sweet. Just... Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget your pants."

Quick key:
-Naergondir and Gurnirel are SIELU agents and Noldorin Elves of the First Age of Middle-earth (aka, Tolkien Elves of Dafydd's earlier days). Being Elves, they have a lot of names between them. Most do not appear here.
-Osellë=sworn sister (Quenya)
-Otorno=sworn brother (Quenya). Both are left untranslated even when they're presumably speaking Quenya because it gets very clunky.
-Aman and Valinor are the same place.

I'm not sure yet if this is or will be canon at some point, but...you never know! It's certainly something I could see happening...let's call it canon-adjacent for now. Feedback welcome. Thank you also to the people who gave me feedback on the last prompt I did; I really appreciate it, and mainly didn't reply due to getting tired and sick until after it made its way off the front page. ~Z


---


"You cannot leave." Naergondir moved nimbly to block the door. His one hand rested against the closest of the trees which, with a variety of other flora, filled their RC; his other he held out, as though to keep his partner at bay. "Osellë, our place is here now. It must be."

Gurnirel hefted the pack onto her shoulders with a sigh. "I will never be content to live out my years in this place, otorno," she said. Her voice was soft. "Never. You know this."

"Do you not think the Valar were clear?" Naergondir stayed where he was. "We are barred from Valinor, Gurnirel. This--this is what we are to do."

"Is it?" Gurnirel pulled her long golden braid out from under the pack, resettling it behind one shoulder. "How can you be certain? How can you know that we were not merely sent here as a warning, as a sign that we must remain with the others of our kindred who are barred from Aman?"

"Surely here we may work towards forgiveness." Naergondir's throat ached as he spoke; he forced the words out anyway. "We are protecting our kindred here, Saileldë, in a way that we never could before. Surely this will someday earn us a place in Valinor, if anything will. Surely--"

"I cannot believe that." Gurnirel began to walk toward him, skirting roots as she went. "I will not. I tried, Naergondir. I did. But this is not our home, my home. This is not even our world. How can I stay here, a stranger, when my son yet lives in Middle-earth? When he is forced to play servant to Sue after Sue? I cannot remain here." She came to a stop in front of him. Their eyes met. "Step aside, otorno. Come with me if you will; but do not attempt to stop me if you will not. For whether with you or alone, I am bound away."

"And if this, as all else, should turn to evil end?" Naergondir let his hand fall, but didn't step aside. "We are the Dispossessed, Gurnirel. Are you so eager to shed more tears?"

"I would shed them in my home world," Gurnirel said. "I would shed them where I can feel the eyes of the Valar on me." She reached out, clasping his shoulder. "I have already shed them here," she said quietly. "If I am to shed more--let it be in a land where I can see the sky and feel the ground."

For a time, they stood simply looking at one another. At last, Naergondir bowed his head and stepped aside.

"May you find peace," he said. "Bear my regards to your son, should he wish to hear them."

"I shall do so." Gurnirel offered her hand; when Naergondir reached out to take it, she gripped his forearm in a warrior's clasp. "May we meet again one day in Aman."

When she had gone, Naergondir stood among the tangle of trees and vines and stared at the door to the RC. The generic gray still appeared foreign to his eyes; even the flora that crowded their RC--his, now--was not entirely familiar.

"When will I see you again?" he murmured. "What will befall us now we have left each other's company?"

He half expected her to return, to open the door and explain that she had had a change of heart. That was not her way, though; it never had been. Once Gurnirel had made a decision, she did not easily alter it.

He turned away, running his fingers along bark and vines as he approached the console. Perhaps it would provide him with a mission; he was eager to return to protecting his kin.

(Perhaps she would be there now, the Vanyarin-blooded Noldo whose path had twisted with and diverged from his again and again throughout the First Age. She would no longer be able to see him if he didn't make his presence known--but that was the price to pay for protecting Arda from the disastrous effects of poor writing. And he had made his choice, just as she had now made hers.)

Please, he thought. It wasn't quite a prayer; he was too fearful what might come of prayers to use them easily now. Let this be the end. Let us earn forgiveness at last.

The Doom of Mandos rang in his ears, his only companion until--

[BEEEEEEP!]

Now I am.

Thank you! It is quite nice to see Farilan slowly coming around under the influence of Ilraen's charm, such as it is. And to show just how far he's come as a mature, knowledgeable individual who might be writing a food blog in his spare time.

(Actually, next time someone wants to do a Multiverse Monitor again, I'll have to whip up something along those lines. Ought to be fun.)

Alas, Ilraen did not so much retrieve the MBoM as get chased down the corridor by it until he finally lost it in an Escher room or something. It is still very much at large in HQ, waiting to ambush the next unsuspecting passerby. {= )

~Neshomeh

I guess I would have enjoyed it even more if I had read Edgar Allen Poe’s version first.

Apparently Poe picked up some German words, but then he misremembered or he didn’t learn the construction rules for compound nouns. The alcoholic beverage distilled from cherries ("Kirschen", singular "Kirsche") is called "Kirschwasser" and the alcoholic beverage distilled from raspberries ("Himbeeren", singular "Himbeere") is called "Himbeergeist".

But if the spirit is distilled from pears ("Birnen", singular "Birne"), it is called "Birnengeist" or "Birnenschnaps", so we don’t always use the singular and drop a trailing "e"? German is a weird language.

And I just realized that "kirschwasser" would be an English word, too, although simply "kirsch" is more usual (and is not cherry brandy).

HG, not longing for a drink now

... for the reasons doctorlit already spelled out.

Two nitpicks:
... for a few days with with his family for Christmas.

... summed up by the photo she was looking at the moment.
Although it looks and sounds weird, you need two consecutive "at" here, one for the phrase "the photo she was looking at", and one for the phrase "at the moment".

HG

As Scapegrace says, the 'slightly less restricted' books are PPCers' NaNos. Kraken-Knights is mine, Magical Adventures is by BeautyID and is the best thing ever, and Glede is an Alec Troven book by kippur which had a cool, eye-catching title.

hS