#man their speech patterns have changed

[paimonial-rage]

The biggest recommendation I can give on writing dialogue that sounds in character for the character to say is, not to read the quests they are in, but to listen to the English dub whenever you get the chance. This may seem difficult especially if you are used to playing it in another language, but listening is key to getting the vibe of a character down. What you pay attention to is, not what they say, but the cadence in which they say it. Pay attention to the emotion in their voice, the speed at which they say things, the volume, etc. Once you get this down, it becomes easier to get an idea of what “sounds” right and what doesn’t. Cadence is an especially powerful thing. By training your ears to a character’s cadence, you can get a better idea of which words they would prefer to use, the lengths of their sentences, and things of the sort.

For example, reader asks Zhongli to dinner and he accepts. How would he respond? “Hmm, I’m not busy this evening, so I accept. Thank you for the invitation.” But that doesn’t sound right, does it? Is Zhongli the type of person that uses many contractions? I don’t think so, so let’s fix it. “Hmm, I am not busy this evening, so I accept. Thank you for the invitation.” But would he say “I accept?” Perhaps, but it still doesn’t sound right. How has he accepted proposals in the past? A bit of research shows he has said “sure.” How can I mix that in? “Hmm, I’m not busy this evening, so sure. Thank you for the invitation.” But hmm… the second sentence doesn’t sound right. What else could he say instead? “Hmm, I’m not busy this evening, so sure. It would be my pleasure.” That sounds a lot better.

Some people may ask why you can’t do these things while listening to another language. Personally, I don’t believe you can. If you are not fluent in those other languages, your ears are not properly trained enough to understand the nuance of the ways they speak. The correct emotion and tone will come through, yes, but you still won’t be able to intuitively know what sounds right and what does not. You only will get this sense by listening to it in the language you choose to write in.

The only downside to this is that your writing will become based upon the English translation of the game. As many people know, the portrayal of characters in English often does not completely match the portrayals in Chinese. This is especially so for characters like Zhongli, Xiao, and Kaeya. A lot is lost in the translation and dubbing process. Characters do not vibe the same. Thus, your portrayals will be more true to English, but not how it technically is “supposed” to be. Personally, I don’t necessarily believe this is a bad thing. However, it is something that can bother people. The only way I can imagine getting around it is by playing the game with the Chinese dub and by following accounts that speak Chinese and can give insight on the literal translations and what they mean and imply.

[fridgevespidae]

to this day tumblr still confuses me!

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Get Asked Their Pronouns

As requested by @dewypeach :)

I'm weirdly anxious about contradicting other people's pronoun headcanons, ha ha. But then...I guess the thing about headcanons is that everyone can have different ones... Anyway, here's how I think Cosmere characters might respond if asked their pronouns!

1. Shallan

Shallan: She/they. Adolin: Just out of curiosity, is the "they" a gender thing or an alters thing? Shallan: Yes.

2. Adolin

Adolin: I like to say that I use whatever pronouns are fashionable! Adolin: I like to say it around Sadeas. Adolin: It makes him shudder. Shallan: You should collect pronouns like swords. Adolin: You say that like I don't already.

3. Kaladin

Kaladin: I use he/him. [Adolin & Shallan look at him] Kaladin: What? I'm just a simple guy!

4. Syl

Syl: I use neopronouns! Kaladin: Y-You do? I thought you went by "she/her"! Syl: Yeah, exactly! Syl: I use the neopronouns that humans invented!

5. Pattern

Pattern: Cryptic pronouns are unpronounceable in the human tongue! Shallan: Are they...a math thing? Pattern: They're a math thing, yeah! Shallan: What do you want us to use in human speech? Pattern: You always use "he" which is mmmm an interesting lie!

6. Harmony

Harmony: As a being that is male, female, both, and neither, I let my followers refer to me however. Harmony: Privately, I think "they/them" fits the most these days.

7. Wayne

Wayne: Like, what I'm using right now? Wayne: It obviously depends on the hat, mate. Wax: I still can't believe you got he/him-ed yesterday. Wayne: I know! In THAT hat?!

8. MeLaan

MeLaan: [currently in the body of a tall, handsome man] MeLaan: She/her. Why?

9. Vin

Vin: I've always used whichever pronouns are safest in the moment. Elend: And if you were safe to use any of them? Vin: ... Vin: I still think I'd put on and off pronouns like a fancy dress, to be honest.

10. Vasher

Vasher: As far as you're concerned, I don't use pronouns. Vasher: How dare you refer to me

11. Dalinar

Dalinar: As a man who reads and writes, it's important to me to use "he/him." Navani: We're having to invent new forms of written pronouns in real time. Dalinar: Doing my part for change.

12. Nightblood

Nightblood: Oooh, what are pronouns?? Szeth: They're how people refer to you, Sword-nimi. Nightblood: My pronouns are Nightblood! Szeth: No, Sword-nimi. Like how they refer to you without using your name. Nightblood: My pronouns are screams! Szeth: ... Szeth: That does seem oddly correct.

13. Lift

Lift: Haven't got a gender. Wyndle: B-But mistress (Mister? Mastress?), how should refer to you? Lift: Sounds like a you problem.

14. Painter

Painter: ... Painter: ... Painter: YOU CAN CHOOSE?!?

[sandsorghum]

Clouds & Curtains

husband!Nanami x wife!reader

wc. 1.3k

summary. Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

tags. Established relationship, Domestic bliss | Romance | Smut | Body (& Soul)Worship | Mentions of Nanami wanting to be a father

a/n: Super soft, super indulgent piece. Have your cake and eat it nanami girlies. Sometimes i just need to write him a love letter ok

Prologue

Back when you'd just begun to be intimate with each other, Nanami tended to be a little embarrassed about his subconscious (but hardly subtle) desires for you. He would rather suffer his internal, infernal dilemma than disrupt your rest. But he couldn't quite control his urges, squirming between decency and depravity, not when you'd rub up against him, so innocuous and merciless.

It was a hard habit to shake; how Nanami felt he ought to earn your every quiver against him, every whimper, however much he yearned to feel you tremble at his moans at any given moment. It was codified in him, there was a time and a place and patterns to follow, before he could permit himself the pursuit of your shared pleasures.

Of course, you'd unveil him in the evenings, the privilege of your touch stripping bare the prerogatives of his flesh. You unraveled him, his reticence, his reasoning, his very capacity for speech, by braiding your breath and fingers with his, in the friction-begetting-friction tangle of your lips and limbs together.

Yet he still thinks of these mornings, that find the two of you entwined, as an undeserved luxury. So Nanami would do his best instead to focus on your face, how sweet your peaceful expression was. It would be wicked of him not to cherish this, he'd chastise himself for wanting more, for wanting to drown in your adoring gaze, for wanting to return it with his own hungry one, body and spirit beggared by the night, by the hours not spent beheld by you.

Nanami assumed the beauty and tenderness of your countenance would quell, or could sate his appetites, would tame the primal stirrings in his belly. But nothing could be further from the truth, in fact they had the opposite, compounding effect; a lump in his throat would rise, and his desperation would thicken till he could only helplessly rut his hips against you.

And then your eyelids would flutter open, and in the crease of your knowing smile, all his definitions, his distinctions, all that distance between need and greed would collapse with a single kiss.

Years later, and your husband is so absolutely shameless about his...early head starts to the day. He pulls you into him, snug against the cleft of your ass cheeks, content to let your scent and radiance seep through the thin fabric and warm him in a way the sun, in its reluctance behind the clouds and curtains, can never hope to.

He stares at the petulance drooping off the petals of your lips, rose bud coiled tight before daybreak can coax it to unfurl for strobes of gold. Nanami is a patient man, too patient you've often thought, yet you feel his phantom touch, a tender sweep of your mouth, a zephyr whispering in the wings, billowing brocade and swelling muslin, ghost pulling you through the gauze of sleep.

You shift against Nanami to hear him sigh your name, soft and distant, thick with slumber and affection and it's this which rouses you more, not merely his growing rigidity pressed to the curves of you. Although, it helps, feeling every inch of his hunger like this, in a slow swirl and pinch at your waist, the gentlest rocking as your breasts are cradled in his palms, familiar persuasion pebbling your areola. You know he dreams of them swollen with milk, that all your memories of his teeth are girded by the desire for them to be suckled by the most innocent of mouths, baring only gums and tiny wails. Your nubs stiffen and a small smile stretches across your face at the thought that with his wish to grow a family fulfilled, he might find also a small regret, of his monopoly of your mounds contested by another, to whom he owes the genesis of your body's generosity, that sweet fullness dribbling, stolen, into your husband's mouth, enticing in its envy.

This prospect of hypocrisy is to be savoured for another day, far down the road. This morning brings neither hesitation nor urgency, all syrupy light and his maple gaze, the languor of his limbs splayed around you to be treasured just as much as the gradual grind of his cock. There's a certain smugness in its slowness, as with the self-assuredness of his thumb circling a bare sliver of your skin.

A familiar motion that stirs a memory, fuchsia-tinted for the both of you. You remember your then boyfriend stammering and scarlet-tipped, matched to the rosy tips of his ears, excuses lost in the shuffle of sheets and stutter of hips.

"I-it's just-just the t-temp-ah-temperatuur," he'd slurred, the excuse as thin and transparent as the sticky film he laved across your throat, dangerously growing gossamer and feebler with every twitch and each strong buck against your body.

"Mmhmm," you'd hum, carnal ache turning you conciliatory. Such complacency. You had been the one to smirk back then, canines gleaming coy, as you offered ruin in the guise of reprieve.

"Want me to warm you up, darling?" Hands already reaching for him, mind already marveling before your fingers could be reacquainted with their hubris, his girth.

"P-please, anythin-nghing" he'd panted, all wide-eyed desperation to be devoured, sweet thing.

You'd been such a fool.

To not know not greed was a two-way street, this ravenous osmosis, this vicious ouroborous.

You think perhaps, in fact, you got the worse end of the deal, trembling against your spouse now, thighs clamped together.

"My dear," Nanami hums, a teasing timbre dripping honey as he sinks his fingers in, "always so ready for me."

You squirm, eyes screwed shut and fisting the sheets, trying to grasp the pale image of the boy who'd once writhed and blushed beneath you, a spectre all but vanquished. You miss him, sometimes.

You arch your back into Nanami, the way you know he's addicted to, just to hear him groan your name, ragged with the dregs of self-restraint or slumber, you're not sure which, but it's a close enough echo to send pleasure juddering through you, the recollection churning hot in your gut, of when he was wrapped around your finger, instead of your cunt around his.

"Sweetheart."

The tenderness of his tone pries your lids open. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to say anything but he does, because he knows you are too stubborn to ask for what you need to hear.

"My love."

He claims your gasp, in the crush and curl of his mouth, in the crook of his fingers.

"My girl."

Another smattering of kisses, chasing the flutters of your belly down, down, down to your creases weeping nectar. He licks a whine from you, pitching high into the air, his husky moan vibrating within you.

"My wife."

You feel the hot gust of Nanami's breath over your clit, as he pauses.

"My wife."

There's a reverence as he repeats himself, pathetic attempts to vanquish his disbelief, wonder glistening in his gold-flecked irises, staring at you in awe, searching for proof this isn't some frenzied fever dream of his.Of course, he finds it in your own unwavering eyes.

You've been such a fool.

There, in the locked gaze your shared history glimmers, that shy boy paralyzed by his worship of you, prostrate as the man before your parted legs now, offering his soul, his past, his future.

You reach for him, and he surges upwards. The collision is wave returning and rising from oceans, over and over, is starburst, is incandescence, is the fission of atoms never, ever meant to be split.

It burns away all notions of him as your acolyte or priest, any concept of deity and devotee.

"My life," he breathes into you, and you feel the throb in your ribs, the furnace of his lungs.

"My life," you repeat to your husband.

Adam. Prometheus. Kento.

This morning and many after, he lavishes you with irreverence, a ravishing of irrelevance; his goddess, his woman, his joy -all that matters is that you are his and he is yours; Together, you forge a paradise that exists for as long as the melding of your souls persist, boundless as horizons and sure as sunrises.

@houseofsolisoccasum

[guildofscribes]

Okay, so I’ve been thinking… dangerous, I know, but anyway.

I often wonder how many people who write stuff about Steve Rogers have ever spoken to someone who was alive during and served during WWII. This isn’t coming from any derogatory line of thought, just a curious one since I’ve had the distinct honor of speaking to a few myself, as well as people who were alive during that time and were not part of the military due to age, medical, or occupational exemptions.

There would be diversions to behavior and speech patterns between them and the character of Steve Rogers, though the longer in conversation you go, the more their speech shifts to the way it was in the memories they’re recalling. The “formula” with which they tell the stories is different from the ones we use now, slight grammar changes start slipping in, older slang starts popping up, older turns of phrase, accents start thickening if they had a different or thicker one when they were younger, all sorts of interesting things start appearing slowly as you let them slide into memory without interruption. Usually it happens so smoothly, so slowly, that you never know when it began, one moment you simply notice that the turn was well and truly made.

Think about how awkward it can be to keep up with and change to new slang, to understand the changed in meaning for phrases as each generation ages up. Steve has a lifetime of habits ground into his bones, even in his twenties, and all of a sudden everything he’s ever known is stripped away, and all he has left is what he remembers.

While I believe Steve is self-aware enough to see that was was normal for him to say and do, like exclamations and walking to the bank and the street market for his food every week, tucking in his shirt and shining his shoes, these things that are normal to him are simply not done in the time he woke up in, and if blending in is what he wants to do, he’ll have to adapt. And adapt he does.

But Steve is also a young man without the perspective of having watched the times change over the progression of years, so the new learned behaviors are just that; learned behavior, like a broadway performance he’s acting out every day. And make no mistake, he seems to do quite well all things considered.

But back to the disconnect between the 1940’s and the 2010’s, it’s wild, a stark contrast. And given the story Steve was written into, the movies do a decent job of showing him as a man in his twenties from the 1940’s interacting with people in the 2010’s.

But mark the slightly off dialogue, the turns of phrase, and the silences. This is a man who grew up in the early 1900’s who is now told that everything about him is out of date, obsolete, outmatched, surpassed, and generally unwanted.

Except for his body as a fighter in the hardest battles to ever face the earth, people want to use that. And if he ever wants to be accepted as a person now, he has to change everything he’s identified himself with as a person from what he learned from his parents to the choices he made as a young man, to his style choices, the way he speaks to express himself, to the ideals he has built his character around… he has to change all of that foundation in order to be seen as a person instead of a relic out of a museum.

Some of the reasons I love listening to old people talk is the difference from what I see in my generation. Times were different and people were built by them in a way we aren’t being built. It’s a valuable perspective to keep in mind as history is being written around us, and one day we will be the relic nobody wants to hear or give the time of day because we have an older view of life and living.

…

…that ramble turned out much longer than intended.

Oops!

Anyway, highly recommend going on YouTube and finding videos of WWII veterans and tapes of young people in that era, listen to how they speak, what they focus on, how they conduct themselves, and maybe draw some lines between them and Steve Rogers.

Who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy it a little.

[a-hermit-pining]

Geto as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Geto x Reader AN: I love him. He's so damn pretty. Who should I write next?

Have you seen him? He is mother material. Born to cook forced to slay. Let's say in a different world, you whisk this beautiful man into the domestic bliss of marriage.

Massive cottage core vibes with this one. He is very taken by the idea of not being regarded as a killing machine. Immediately busies himself with the task of decorating your shared home.

Just take this man away. Elope to mountains and save him (hermit begs you).

Wedding planning is another demon. He debates every single decision. Asking you about your preference between white gardenias or white peonies. (You love him and he is too sweet for you to say out loud that you for the end of the world cannot distinguish the flowers)

He creates elaborate flowcharts to compare the pros and cons of different cake flavors, or insists on stress-testing the honeymoon resort's structural integrity with a cursed technique (much to the staff's bewilderment).

Let's not even get into Gojo's best man speech. No one really recovered from that.

DIY projects are his shit. Renovating a raggedy old dresser into a vintage masterpiece is where his magic lies. Let this man cook.

Your home with him is a a whimsical blend of vintage finds and hand-stitched throw pillows adorned with subtle wards against lingering curses. Even the strategically placed spider plants weren't just decorative – they doubled as a natural barrier against negative energy (a discovery that both surprised and amused you).

His transition into a normal 'monkey' life was endearingly awkward, like the time he spent hours meticulously decoupaging a floral pattern onto a chair, muttering about the inefficiency of glue compared to a simple binding spell.

And the day Suguru is introduced to the world of crocheting, your world flips on its axis. The pure look of joy on his face unravels the seams of your heart as he presents you with the mood changing octopus on your birthday.

Weekends with him are craft days. With a classic rom-com in the background as he sits next to you, his hands busy in the dance of needles and yarn. Better even your fingers run through his hair, braiding his hair only to wake up to your husband with perfect mermaid waves next day.

You both are the kind of sickly sweet couple that cause Shoko to gag in cringe during holiday gatherings.

Your husband glows with the simplicity of life. His hands busy themselves with crafts, chores, gardening, never a moment of rest even in the hull of domesticity.

He is your Disney princess that rushes out to refill the bird feeder with the first rays of Sun, hums pleasantly at the sight of a perfectly baked batch of cookies, or paints the most delightful sceneries on your ceilings.

Geto Suguru was made to create. He loves the fresh scent of sheets, experimenting with new flavors of tea, or going down the path of BookTok with Faerie romances much to your astonishment.

It isn't long before, you both end up adopting teeny tiny twins from the local orphanage. Suguru's darling girls he spends his life nurturing.

He took to fatherhood with the same surprising zeal he brought to everything else. His days were filled with braiding tiny pigtails, reading bedtime stories with dramatic voice inflections (complete with a surprisingly convincing rendition of a grumpy troll), and building elaborate pillow forts that rivaled any jujutsu barrier.

And on nights when dreams of a different reality kept him away, you held his hand in yours. Calling your girls for a family sleepover in the living room. That was all it took to whisk the sadness away from your beloved's eyes.

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 28: Back to Indiana

Words: 976

Rating: T

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: language, talk of bullying

Thank you to my editor @munson-blurbs ❤️

Summary: When famous rockstars Eddie and Jeff come back for their ten year high school reunion, Eddie runs into a friendly familiar face.

@corrodedcoffinfest

Welcome Back Class of ‘86!

The banner in the God awful combination of green and orange greets Eddie as he pushes into the gym. Jeff’s by his side as they step into the once despised part of their old school.

Eddie and Jeff had debated whether or not they wanted to come back for their reunion, but ultimately decided to go. They knew it was petty, but they wanted to see how differently the “Hawkins High Royalty” treated them now that they’re successful rock stars. And they get their answer almost instantly.

“Whoa, Eddie! I didn’t think I’d see you here, man.”

Andy was one of the worst douches of all back in the day. Now he’s acting like they’re old friends ? Nah, fuck that shit.

Eddie gives him a terse nod of the head and keeps walking.

Jeff knocks his shoulder against his band mate’s, laughing as he does so.

The pattern repeats itself, other former jocks and students who ignored or tormented them trying to talk to them as if it’s the most casual, normal thing in the world.

“Holy shit, man,” Eddie says. “This is fucking hilarious.”

“I am so glad we decided to come tonight,” Jeff says. “You know, I’m aware that these aren’t the tables from the cafeteria, but something about being back here has me itching to see you jump up on one and make some grand speech.”

“What, you think everyone here needs a lecture? Teach your kids to be nice to the freaks because they might end up Grammy winners someday?”

Jeff laughs. “Holy shit, it’s scary to think that some of these people are parents now. Oh hey, look. There’s the only reason you passed, what, three of your science classes?”

Eddie follows his friend’s gaze and grins when he sees you sitting at a nearby table. He can’t help but notice that you’re sitting alone. It seems like not much has changed, because you were always quiet in school and could often be found in a secluded spot with a book.

“Uh no,” Eddie counters Jeff, “she helped me pass two—no, shit, you’re right, three times.” He pats Jeff on the chest. “I’m gonna say hi. I’ll catch up with you.”

Jeff gives a small salute and heads further into the gym.

Eddie pulls out the chair that’s across from you at the round table, spins it around, then plops down on it. He rests his arms on the back of the chair and leans forward.

“Hey, you. Long time no see,” he greets.

Your eyes widen when you take in your former lab partner.

“Hi,” you say, unable to keep the surprised squeak out of your voice.

Eddie smiles and tilts his head. “How are you?”

“I’m-I’m good,” you say. “How are you?”

“Pretty good for being back in this place.” Eddie looks around the gym, as if he’ll see back in time to his six years here.

“Yeah,” you say with a small chuckle. “Why did you come back for this? We didn’t exactly go to school with the greatest people.”

“That was good practice since Hollywood isn’t filled with the greatest people either,” he says. “But figured it might be fun. Plus, I get to thank you for helping me graduate.”

“I don’t think I did that much,” you say, shyly ducking your head.

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asks with a disbelieving chuckle. “If I didn’t have you, I would’ve failed biology, chemistry, and anatomy.” He pauses a second, pursing his lips. “How did we end up having all those classes together? I mean, what are the odds?”

You nod and let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding Eddie’s eyes as you look down at the table.

“Y-Yeah, I know.”

The rockstar’s gaze narrows as he eyes you suspiciously.

“Okay, spill. You know more than you’re saying.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you release a breath and find the courage to meet Eddie’s eye.

“Well, uh, I was an aide in the front office,” you start. “And so they let me help with making student schedules.”

“And you put us in the same science classes?” he asks, a smile growing on his face.

“I did.”

“Why? Just to help me graduate?”

“Um.” You scratch at the side of your neck, your stomach doing a somersault. “Also because I had a huge crush on you.”

Eddie couldn’t look more surprised if you told him aliens made the class schedules.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes,” you answer before taking a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He’s still smiling, so that’s good. You were half afraid he was going to laugh in your face.

“Because,” you say with a shrug, “I didn’t think you’d want to go out with me.”

Now, Eddie frowns.

“Of course I would’ve,” he says. His eyes scan your left hand for a ring before he speaks again. “Actually…do you want to get out of here now? Get a burger or something?”

Now it’s your turn to look shocked.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah!” Eddie stands up and situates the chair back to its normal position. “It’s not everyday I find someone who liked who I was before I was famous.”

“How do you know I’m not lying?” you challenge, feeling slightly bolder.

Eddie laughs. “Because I had classes with you for three years. You couldn’t even lie to Mrs. Click when you were late to class because you wanted to finish the chapter of a book.”

The tumbling in your stomach turns to butterflies.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Eddie just shrugs, giving you a bashful smile.

“You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You were bound to stick out at this school of assholes.”

You stand up from your seat and place your hand in Eddie’s outstretched one.

“Benny’s Burgers?” you ask.

“You read my mind.”

[stealingyourbones]

Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.

I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?

(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)

ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past

I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.

Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)

All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)

mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)

( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)

now back to the kidnapping:

[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]

Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.

I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.

[williaml0ver]

Ok ok ok, hear me out- Naib x a charismatic!sunshine!reader who tries his best to cheer everyone up in the manor 👀👀

☆ <3 Naib Subedar With a Sunshine Like s/o ☆ <3

[🖇️] word count: 1213

[🖇️] warnings: g/n reader, Naib's a little grumpy

[🖇️] author's note: first of all THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST EVER i'm emotional thank you so much 😭🫂 i honestly wasn't sure how to portray reader's personality well sooo this may not entirely be focused around it but i tried my best in sneaking some traits here and there, hope you'll enjoy this!

☆ ☆ ☆

-You make his stay at the gloomy manor more bearable.

-Wouldn't understand you at first, because what's so nice and exciting about having to stay in this cursed place?

-He would have some suspicions towards you. He would be convinced that you're hiding some cruel intentions behind this bright smile. You would quickly notice how strange he's acting around you, and yeah, he is kind of stiff around most people, but you're feeling a whole new level of coldness here.

-Naib's attitude would spark amusement among other manor residents, at some point the rumous get to you.

-What can you say, you did feel surprised, thought felt a little bad for the mercenary, his life was probably filled with many dangerous moments and he grew cautious of his surroundings. Who can blame him?

-You decided to get closer to him, step by step. Start with something small, like initiating short conversations. His answer would be very short at first. That challenge is not for the faint hearted. You won't give up.

-Naib would just notice a weird pattern how you recently started talking to him more and eventually sense danger. He'd make himself clear and possibly threaten you.

-I think the best way to make him let his guard down is to have a honest conversation with him. Let him known your thoughts. Naib, slowly, would actually open up to you.

-Whenever in a bad mood, he would unconsciously be looking forward to seeing you again. There's just something about your smile, positive attitude and the little jokes you make. He craves comfort.

-Let's make this clear: he has no idea why you're being so kind towards HIM. He'd see you casually handing out small trinkets and laughing together with other people who did much more evil things than him, but he would still be in denial, does he really deserve this?

-Yet something would make him appreciate your way of being. Something would make him want to be near you, spend more time with you... get together with you?

-Yeah, it was a hard thing for him to admit he's got a crush. How awkward would that be... he definitely isn't saying that out loud.

-Funny thing is that you've also grown fond of the green hooded boy. Overly grown. There just was something about his cautiousness and hints of mystery. You quickly spotted how diffrently he started treating you compared to others lately. You even caught him softly smiling during your small talk.

-It wasn't long until you became a couple. One would think Naib would not make the first move, however he wished to show his gratitude to you, he just wasn't sure how!

-The mercenary ended up giving you a simple boquet of flowers. But what really touched you was his speech. He was usually a man of few words, so you quickly understood how important this was to him. His speech felt very honest and emotional: Naib was touched by so many things you have done for him, although for you they were something absolutely ordinary.

-He would feel relieved that you accepted his feelings and feel shocked finding out you feel the same.

-Spending time with you on a daily basis made him change his personality a little. Yes, he would still be THE mercenary when needed, no doubt, but overall he'd become more open. Seeing him go from someone very closed off to a suprisingly cheeky person made you melt. You felt glad that you helped him grow.

-Isn't afraid of showing PDA.

-Whenever someone new enters the Oletus manor they would immediately feel like this is some inside joke between the both of you, because how would that even make any sense? A cold hearted mercenary walking hand in hand with the literal definition of a ray of light? Truth is, you are a great match for Naib! Your relationship is perfectly balanced.

-Perfect example of a grumpy/cheerful duo.

-It was not a rare sight to see the mercenary utterly tired after his matches. Being a rescuer was a demanding position. It was a good thing other players trust and depend on him, but on the other hand the big pressure can cause a huge toll on his calmness.

-If someone got chaired, everyone else expects Naib to go to the rescue, even if he's currently far, far away. Of course, Naib learnt to control stress and work in difficult situations much before he even found out about the manor, but that didn't change the fact that post-match he'd isolate himself from everyone else.

-From everyone else besides you.

-You are his escape from reality. His soft spot. Naib has no idea how you've did it, but you managed to win him over completely. You're always trying to make him smile with this mysterious comforting aura, whether it's with words of affirmation and telling him he's done all in his power, how strong and devoted he is or with gentle touches, like holding his hand and kissing his palms.

-It's therefore no secret that during his bad days he wants you to be near.

-You can spend several together hours together just laying and cuddling. He lives for your smile.

-Naib appreciates how you comfort him after tough days and he comforts you in hours of need as well:)

-I wouldn't say he's very private when it comes to pda, though he's not overly affectionate in public either. He would have absolutely NO SHAME. You're needy for his attention but there are other survivors around? Don't worry! Naib is already patting his lap, awaiting you. He loves how you don't care what others think of your behaviour.

-Does not care about his reputation anymore. Those people know you are his soft spot. Just because he's gentle with you doesn't mean he's going to be merciful for everyone else. Someone dare to complain about you being annoying - they would be quickly receiving the glare.

-Naib would ALWAYS feel very protective over his s/o, no matter what personality would they have. He is a mercenary, a soldier, if his loved one wouldn't have a thing against being with someone like this, he'd become a total keeper as long as he is breathing.

-And when you're so positive almost all the time? Wanting to make sure everyone is feeling good? He would be all over you. A lot of, if not most people, residing in the manor were, to put it simply, bad people, so to have someone so pure next to him would turn him quite possesive.

-Of course, he is aware you are not stupid. You are aware of who the people you spend time with are. The world is not all unicorns and rainbows, you know that. He's going to understand if you show you're feeling uncomfortable with being constantly monitored. He'd try to withdraw from doing it but sometimes Naib can't help it. It's both the protectivness and the jealousy.

-When jealous, Naib would love to come near you and the person you're talking with, hug you from behind and be very affectionate. At some point you both gain the reputation of those people you'd see in citties kissing and making everyone feel awkward according to other people in the manor. Naib loves it.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wishing you guys a good day/night 🫂🫂🫂

[babyblue711]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Alys Rivers - Part 1 Summary: Alys reflects on her time at Harrenhal under the reign of the Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen. Words: 2.6K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Dubcon, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, War Things, Typical Westeros Misogyny A/N: I fully realize not everyone is an Alys fan and that is perfectly fine. Perhaps once the show airs, I'll change my opinion too. But, as of right now, this is fanfiction and, therefore, my fantasy. I personally tried to humanize Alys, which I hope you all will see. As always, I love reading your thoughts, comments, and reblogs! 😘 And - No tag list since I don't know who will be in to Alysmond. 💙 Beta read by the Queen herself: @arcielee 💙 Beautiful banner gif by the one and only: @myfandomprompts

The prince was insatiable at times.

Sometimes he was gentle, sometimes rough. Though she never knew what she was going to get, the news from the battlefront and the state of affairs of the kingdom often foretold the sort of night she could expect from the Prince Regent.

With the weight of the green faction firmly resting on his shoulders, periodically he would be consumed by raw desire; he was fueled by passion, fueled by rage, fueled by an innate need to dominate and control, as certainty was a rare commodity given the unpredictable nature of war. On those nights, his touch was borderline cruel, harsh and demanding, and she would brace herself, anticipating the forcefulness with which he would claim her, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain as their bodies collided. She didn’t know how to tell him ‘no’. She didn’t think she could. She needed him just as much as he needed her… or so she was leading him to believe. 

But at other times, he would approach her with a soft touch, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along her skin, his words filled with warmth, just like the first night they spent together. Those were the nights when she had felt cherished and safe, enveloped in his affection and care. She couldn’t ever remember a time where any man of higher standing had ever worshiped her in such a tender way. 

Presently confined within the ominous black walls of Harrenhal, tonight she is suffering the prince’s wrath. The recent tidings are dire: Kings Landing has fallen into the hands of the enemy, igniting the red hot rage of the dragon. She knows Aemond feels solely responsible for this significant blow to their cause, for leaving his family unprotected as he seeks out his greatest foe, terrified of what is happening to those he has left behind. Tonight, he uses their intimacy as a conduit for his pent-up emotions, unleashing his fury upon her in a desperate attempt to find temporary respite from the anarchy gripping the Seven Kingdoms and the chaos of his own soul.

In the dimly lit chamber, the air is heavy with tension and the scent of burning candles. Pinned to the bed underneath him, his long fingered hand is wrapped firmly around her throat as he thrusts powerfully, hips snapping into her with a brutal force, a look of utter madness in his lone purple eye. His grip tightens on her throat as his unhinged gaze flicks from her bouncing breasts up to her face. 

“Why couldn’t you have told me about this before?” he demands with a harsh growl that echoes off the stone walls, his fingers digging into the delicate skin of her throat so that she can barely breathe, let alone articulate an answer. She chokes slightly, wrapping a dainty hand around his wrist, begging with her eyes for him to soften his grip, which mercifully he does so she can speak.

“My prince,” she gasps as he continues to rut into her, “My visions do not work on command…” She attempts to explain but anger clouds his face and his grip tightens once more on her throat, cutting off any further speech. The Prince Regent does not want to hear her excuses. His desperation and anger is evident in every movement, in every harsh word, in every mark he leaves upon her body. She clenches her jaw and tries not to whimper as his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her neck and breasts, afraid weakness will spur him on further; mentally, she tries to disassociate from what is currently happening to her. She is fully aware that he sees her as a means to an end, a tool to gain an advantage in the chaos of war; she purposefully has supplanted herself in this position, just as he is her mechanism for survival in return.

She knows deep down that she cannot fulfill his demands; her gifted visions do not bend to her whim or will, and she cannot control what they show her. To admit this to him would mean certain death, and so she bears the pain of his grip, the forcefulness of his thrusts, and the weight of his expectations, all while concealing the truth that she cannot deliver what he seeks.

With a guttural groan, his hips stutter as he spills deep inside of her, his fearsome eye closed in some semblance of bliss as he reaches his peak. Without acknowledging any need for her pleasure, he tucks himself back in his pants and departs the room in silence, his rage barely satiated. 

Alys lays upon the bed, her chest rising and falling to catch the breath withheld from her while caught in Aemond’s iron grip. She shifts slightly into a more comfortable position, feeling the slickness between her thighs and, despite his brutality, she quietly hopes for a silver-haired babe, further securing her own position and a testament to her worth.

She wonders if Aemond does not think she is capable of having children and, therefore, is much less cautious where he spills his seed. Her moon’s blood is late, but that is not unusual for her, though she still thinks it is too early to tell if they have been successful yet. She rests a hand on her lower belly, willing her womb to quicken, something that hasn’t happened in years. 

Exhaustion tugs at the corners of her eyes as she rests, waiting for her soreness and aches to lessen so she may get a few hours sleep. Sighing deeply, she stares into the dying flames of the fire in the hearth and reflects on the last few months of being caught up in this accursed Targaryen civil war. Life with Aemond is, at least, a little better than when Daemon ruled these halls. The Rogue Prince had been a formidable presence, his sharp eyes saw through her facade of obedience from the moment he landed astride his fiery red dragon. She had never underestimated him, knowing that he would not be easy prey to be fooled by her own ambitions.  

But when Aemond descended from the heavens upon his colossal, ancient dragon, Alys suspected the young Prince Regent to be a lot more volatile, and thus, a little more vulnerable than his formidable uncle. Aemond was desperate to prove himself in the ongoing war, his ego inflated by the fact that he commanded the largest dragon in existence. His mere presence struck fear into the hearts of warriors, who readily bowed before him as he issued commands with an air of undeniable authority. Yet, beneath his bravado, Alys discerned a deep-seated fear—that of failing his family and being perceived as a disappointment.

Recognizing these traits, she decided to try to leverage this to her advantage. She harbored no ill will toward the prince; in fact, she had developed a fondness for the young man during his stay at the fortress. But she knew that sentimentality had no place in the games of power and politics that defined their lives; the world was cruel, especially to lowborn women, and no one in her position would turn down such an opportunity to wield the influence that came with being entwined with a Targaryen Prince. 

It still took considerable effort to gain Aemond's trust, considering his sharp intellect and initial tendency to see her as nothing more than a lowborn woman with limited utility. However, upon learning that she had some experience with the healing arts, he tasked her with tending to the injuries of his soldiers, which she executed without fail. 

It was one fateful night that the prince called upon her for help with his own affliction - the vicious scar that marred the left side of his beautiful face. She concocted a poultice aimed at soothing the damaged nerves around his missing eye that was causing him some discomfort that particular night. Witnessing the visible relief on his face once she had applied it, and taking advantage of being alone with the prince for the first time, she seized the opportunity to subtly offer strategic information, mainly concerning Daemon's previous tenure at Harrenhal. Aware of Aemond's desperation for any advantage in the ongoing war, especially for any knowledge that had to do with his uncle, Aemond clung to anything she could tell him about Daemon and his war strategy. She was aware of just enough information to be deemed useful and what she wasn’t aware of, she may have elaborated just a bit, as the prince would never know. This gesture swiftly elevated her status in his eyes, securing her a place in his inner circle sooner than she had even anticipated. 

But it wasn’t only Aemond she had to charm; she also understood the importance of gaining favor with Ser Criston Cole, the Hand of the King and Aemond's second in command. Although she suspected that Ser Criston could occasionally see through her intentions, she had a knack for manipulating him too.

Late one evening, after he had a few too many cups of wine, she prophesied his future, whispering words that she knew would resonate with him as they gazed into the flames of the fire. Men in positions of power and influence loved to be told exactly what they wanted to hear and Ser Criston was no exception. Soon, both he and Aemond would come to depend on her clairvoyance much more than either should, but war often strove men to desperate measures and she delicately played this hand when she had no other choice.

Another aspect she did not expect to contest came a few weeks after Aemond and his army came to stay at Harrenhal. It was Aemond who turned their relationship into something more physical; whether it was brought on by boredom or loneliness, she’ll likely never know, but she certainly had not anticipated becoming the Prince Regent’s bedmate. She remembered the night well, the way his fingertips grazed her wrist lightly as she poured him more wine. The intense look of his eye was…different that night, a primal look of longing coupled with a smoldering desire. The bulge in his pants was obvious and it was clear what was intended from her that night.

Worried to displease the prince by refusing him, she settled on her knees in front of him as he sat by the fire. She held his gaze as she slowly unlaced his breeches, pulling his thick, veiny cock from the confines of his trousers, and began pleasuring him with her mouth. Wetness had formed between her own thighs as she sucked him with abandon, enjoying the way his sharp face contorted with the gratification she was giving him. When he shot his seed down her throat, she expected that to be the end of it… until he asked her to show him how to pleasure her in return.

She could perfectly recall the earnest look in his eye as she stared at him with bewilderment; it was highly unusual for a man to be concerned with a woman’s pleasure, let alone a high-born royal like himself. After a moment’s hesitation, she willingly agreed to his request and they spent the night exploring each other’s bodies; she taught the prince about the bundle of nerves located above her entrance and the special spot buried deep inside her cunt. He was an excellent student, mastering her body quicker than she thought possible. His expression was hungry with intensity when he watched her unravel underneath him as she succumbed to his touch, and she knew this gave him a different sense of power over her body. She encouraged this, fully committing to being the prince’s loyal servant in all things, further gaining his trust and, in return, his protection. 

She lost count how many times she came that night during their passionate lovemaking, and her hopes ignited further when he shot his seed deep into her cunt. Since then, he had called upon her almost every night to visit his bed, torturing her deliciously as her velvet walls clenched around him repeatedly, milking him dry as her cries of ecstasy filled his room. Afterwards, she would pray to the gods to bless her with his child.

However, she was beginning to wonder if she had played her part just a little too well. Unfortunately, the prince, gaining confidence in their arrangement, had started to abuse his position of power, more often than not just using her body as a vessel for only his pleasure. Her disappointment was palpable; he had shown so much promise and she thought she could teach him to be different, that he would continue to treat her with respect.

But such wishes were not to be, as dark thoughts of the first time she had suffered the prince’s wrath resurfaced. On that fateful night, after a particularly fearsome thunderstorm culminating with bad news of the war beyond Harrenhal, Aemond and Vhagar had descended from the storm-stricken sky in a fury, his dragon’s wings clapping louder than the thunder itself. As was customary, she was summoned to his chambers. Lightning flashed as she entered his dimly lit room, illuminating his countenance —a hauntingly beautiful sight. But as she caught sight of his murderous expression, dread filled her gut and she knew she was about to face the consequences for whatever misfortune had transpired.

Afterwards, he seemed to emerge from a trance, apologizing to her as he gazed upon the red marks from his fingers on her neck, the bite marks on her breasts, the bruises that littered her body. She was dumbstruck once more, never had a man shown remorse for hurting her before. As their tryst continued, their passionate lovemaking became rougher and more animalistic, her own pleasure forgotten at times as he used her body as a means to his own end, but she made the best of it, knowing that to bear his child would outweigh her suffering and reward her tenfold. 

Back in the room, these memories of Aemond lulled her to sleep as she curled in his bed, warm and comfortable from the smolder in the hearth. The reprieve was short lived as she was roughly shaken awake, startling at his harsh touch.

“Wake up,” Aemond says gruffly. “We’re leaving.” He refuses to answer any of her questions, throwing clothes at her and telling her to get dressed in a hurry. She has no choice but to obey, noticing he has given her breeches to pull on as well as several warm layers, including riding boots and soft leather gloves. 

The moon shines brightly in the nighttime sky as Aemond takes her by the hand, leading her outside the gates of Harrenhal where the immense form of Vhagar looms in the distance. Alys pulls back on Aemond’s arm, terrified, slowing her pace, her unusual attire dawning on her as it is obvious that the prince means for her to fly on Vhagar. The energy that emanates from the massive dragon is unlike anything she has ever felt before. This was an intelligent being that could not be tricked by pretty words or prophetic visions that danced in the flames, for she was fire incarnate herself.

Feeling her tug on his arm, Aemond whirls to face her, impatient, furious. Vhagar rumbles like thunder from behind him, disturbed by her rider’s erratic energy, but makes no effort to move as she waits for him to mount her. 

“Aemond…” Alys starts to sputter, “I - I don’t think she’ll let me ride...?” Terror clutches at her throat as she tries to stress to him the dire warning in the pit of her stomach, but he only smirks, taking hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his breath fanning her face. 

“Vhagar does as I command,” he says confidently as if this could assuage her fear, “but I am going to need your help with something else.”

>>>> Part 2

[ach-sss-no]

For @qthewhatever and anyone else who is interested, here is an overview of Gollum's speech patterns, or:

Why Sméagol talks Like That, an introductory course

Note: I am discussing the books only. The movie adaptation of the character was changed a lot and I don't want to address adaptational changes in this post. All quotes are from The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

Notex2: A lot of this post is just going to be my opinion. I don't want to assert my opinion as correct or factual, but it is going to slow the flow of this post down to a stuttering crawl if I stop to say 'imo' every other sentence. So I'd like to just say once, up front, that if I am not citing a source or a commonly agreed-on fact (such as 'hobbits have furry feets'), I'm giving my own interpretation of the books and am aware I may have things wrong, or that there may be multiple equally correct interpretations of the work. I belive there are always multiple takes that can be had on a complex work of literature, some of which can be equally correct, but not all of them are my takes. In the same vein, I understand that fictional characters are not living people, but it is easier and more efficient sometimes to talk about them as if they were. If I slip into doing that, it's just economy of language.

Now, to start off with, it's important to remember that Tolkien was a linguist who played with words for fun, and even without getting into the Conlangs Iceberg, a lot of LOTR and The Hobbit involve wordplay. The man loved words, he liked to interject poetry, he liked to stylize words in specific manners to convey extra layers of meaning (some of which is, to be honest, waaay over my head! medieval literature and epic poetry and etc. etc. I can tell when I'm reading it that it's a style shift and it's significant, but that's about it.) None of that is my take, he's an infamous Words Guy.

Therefore, if there's a specific word pattern used in his works and it's something extremely distinctive and impossible not to notice, it's there for a reason.

What I'm getting at is that sometimes a character has funky speech patterns just because a writer likes it or is trying to get characters not to blend in with each other in dialog, and in those cases, the style of dialog may not be worthy of this much analysis. But this is Tolkien and this:

"Bless us and splash us, my precioussss! I guess it's a choice feast; at least a tasty morsel it'd make us, gollum!"

This doesn't happen by accident

So that's the writer: a guy who likes words. It is also relevant to discuss the history of the character.

(As an aside: Gollum was invented and introduced in The Hobbit. Gollum-as-Sméagol-a-character-with-a-history-and-name was not introduced until LOTR, and his introduction is significant enough that the story stops for a long stretch while Gandalf (a character known to be a sayer of significant things) narrates it to us.)

Sméagol comes from a rural and semi-feral community that lives by the river. He is from

a family of high repute, for it was large and wealthier than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother of the folk, stern and wise in old lore, such as they had. The most inquisitive and curious-minded of that family was called Sméagol. He was interested in roots and beginnings; he dived into deep pools; he burrowed under trees and growing plants; he tunnelled into green mounds; and he ceased to look up at the hill-tops, or the leaves on trees, or the flowers opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward. - The Fellowship of the Ring, 'Shadow of the Past'

Invasive species behavior.

(Sometimes I remember this passage at random because I look at the ground for bugs a lot and I'll remember to look up at leaves on trees instead. Not important. moving on)

Sméagol was raised by said grandmother. He grew up "wealthier than most" and with a guardian who was "stern and wise" and the ruler of the community. So he's rich, probably well-educated as his people go, and closely related to/living in the household of an important authority figure, and he also seems to only have one friend, and in The Hobbit there's a mention that he only likes one game (riddles). He appears to be constantly seeking intellectual stimulation, and likes stories.

Sméagol was later ousted from his community and ended up completely isolated in a cave. I think it gets overlooked how much of an impact FIVE HUNDRED YEARS of isolation would have on a person. Tolkien points it out specifically in the prologue to LOTR:

But after ages alone in the dark Gollum's heart was black, and treachery was in it

But I usually hear Gollum's descent as a person spoken of only regarding the Ring. Consider how much damage it would do if you were to suddenly go from 'cushy life surrounded by a clan' to CAVE FOREVER LMAO. He'd be having some problems even without the Ring.

What does this have to do with saying 'we hates it my precious gollum gollum'

Everything!

Gollum has three different distinct modes of speaking: 1) we hates it my precious gollum gollum 2) Sméagol is hungry (and he has never done anything wrong ever) (gollum gollum) 3) "Indeed I was told to seek for the Precious; and I have searched and searched, of course I have." (gollum)

These different modes communicate different moods and intentions. They are all the same character.

They are all the same character.

They're all the same character, Mr. Jacks(ok. I'm not here to talk about that. I promised to be very, very good and not let the movies have this post)

We hates it my precious gollum gollum

Why does Gollum say 'my precious'?

He's referring to the Ring, which is the +1 Ring of Making You Call It 'My Precious'. Look, Bilbo does it too:

'Well, if you want my ring yourself, say so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you won't get it. I won't give my precious away, I tell you.' His hand strayed to the hilt of his small sword. - FOTR

He's also threatening gandalf the grey here because it's the +1 Ring of Stupid Life Choices.

But wait! When Gollum does it, there's an extra wrinkle:

And when he said gollum he made a horrible swallowing noise in his throat. That is how he got his name, though he always called himself 'my precious.' - The Hobbit

Gandalf says the Ring 'was eating up his mind.' Gollum seems to be calling himself and the Ring by the same name.

Why does Gollum refer to himself in the plural first person?

Well, in his original form as 'random silly threat in a cave', it's possible that Tolkien was making a bit of a joke by having his silly little villain use the royal we. I think it is objectively funny to have a random weirdo in a cave use the royal we (and Gollum is the kind of person who would do such a thing). But I think the finished version of the character is using 'we' to mean 'myself and the Ring'.

This is why I spent so much time on 'oh him lonely :'( ' in the beginning. Sméagol was used to having a family clan around him (even though he sounds unpopular!) He was forcibly ousted and left with only the Ring, which as an added wrinkle, has a slight will of its own and gives a sense of having low-grade life in it. This gives Sméagol at least three very strong motivations for talking to the Ring and obsessing over it, first off, it's magic and it's eating his soul. Second off, he's incredibly, painfully lonely, which can induce someone to personify an object and try to make friends with it.

Thirdly, Sméagol is more self-aware than he seems, and he is completely capable of realizing that his own choices have driven away all of his loved ones and also he killed his friend, and he did it in exchange for the Ring. So the part of him that realizes that stuff would by natural consequence be desperate to believe the Ring is a worthy exchange for his entire family, his home, and everything he ever knew or loved.

Just cave and Ring. Me and my bestie the Ring. It's our cave! Me and my precious. Ride or die. Me and Ring. It's OUR CAVE. It's OUR pile of dead orcs.

But... Why is Gollum so... theatrical about this mode of speech?

Does it guess easy? It must have a competition with us, my preciouss! If precious asks, and it doesn't answer, we eats it, my preciousss. If it asks us, and we doesn't answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it the way out, yes! - The Hobbit

This is also the style of speech that uses obvious nonstandard grammar (we doesn't vs. we don't) and the pluralses, and the hissing. (The other modes of speech do this much less often. Almost never. Way less than I noticed before. i've definitely gotten this wrong before)

So why all of that? Well, he's bored. He's bored, he's lonely, and he's being written by a quirky linguist who thinks making up words is fun. I think Gollum is being extra on purpose. I have never sat in a cave by myself with no WiFi for five HUNDRED years, but I think it would be boring.

We know Gollum still enjoys riddles because when he has a hostage, he makes Bilbo play riddles. Gollum enjoys playing with words. Look, he made up a little traveling song about wanting to splash in puddles!

So, I think this is something he does on purpose to entertain and comfort himself, and although very habitual he is able to stop doing it when he wants to. Look at him correcting 'ours' to 'mine' when he's trying to communicate something he really cares about to Frodo:

The Precious was ours, it was mine I tell you. - The Two Towers

👌Mwah!

So, I think Gollum chose, at least partly, to take on this persona as a coping mechanism.

When does Gollum speak in the royal we?

When he's alone, and whenever he forgets to stop doing it.

One final note: canonically, the way the characters in LOTR first "met" Gollum was when Bilbo told them the Riddles in the Dark story (complete with vocal impression. becasue Pippin knows how to make the noise, remember?)

They probably thought Bilbo was, at the very least, exaggerating. Then Sam, Frodo, Gandalf and Aragorn all get to find out he wasn't!

Sméagol is unproblematic. and hungry.

Why does Gollum speak in the third person?

'You know that, or you guess well enough, Sméagol,' he said. quietly and sternly. 'We are going to Mordor, of course. And you know the way there, I believe.' `Ach! sss! ' said Gollum, covering his ears with his hands, as if such frankness, and the open speaking of the names, hurt him.

names, plural

names including 'Sméagol' his own freaking name

Don't ask Sméagol. Poor, poor Sméagol, he went away long ago. They took his Precious, and he's lost now.' 'Perhaps we'll find him again, if you come with us,' said Frodo. 'No, no, never! He's lost his Precious,' said Gollum. - The Two Towers

Gollum starts referring to himself in the third person/as Sméagol after all this, and he seems to be doing it to try to ingratiate himself with Frodo, who starts their relationship by repeatedly addressing Gollum by his real name.

he was friendly, and indeed pitifully anxious to please. He would cackle with laughter and caper, if any jest was made, or even if Frodo spoke kindly to him, and weep if Frodo rebuked him. - The Two Towers

(just imagine you make a small, quiet joke of the sort Frodo usually makes and it's greeted with 'HAHA ;_;' and dancing around from gollum)

So he'll use third person when he's trying to be friendly

Nice hobbits, they sleep beautifully. Trust Sméagol now? Very, very good. - The Two Towers

Sméagol always helps, if they asks -- if they asks nicely. - The Two Towers

Or when being a little bit of a pill and trying to get away with it

'Yes, yes, and Sam stinks! ' answered Gollum. `Poor Sméagol smells it, but good Sméagol bears it. Helps nice master. - The Two Towers

Look at his social skills! Truly, this is a man who's lived alone for 500 years and has secret malicious intent.

When does Gollum speak in the third person?

When trying to be cute. (By implication, Gollum seems to have some inkling that the royal we is off-putting to people. I bet they made fun of him for it in Mordor.)

But there's also another little wrinkle to this- he seems to be dissociating a bit? I've noticed that repeatedly, Gollum will describe himself, announce his status [he's hungry], start off a personal narrative or descriptor with third-person language (which sounds a little dissociated), and then shift to "I" when his emotions get engaged.

It caught Sméagol there, long ago.' Gollum shuddered. 'But Sméagol has used his eyes since then, yes, yes: I've used eyes and feet and nose since then. - The Two Towers

The shift comes when he stops simply explaining events and begins to recall what it was like to 'use eyes and feet and nose' (he shudders, which shows emotion, and then after that, starts adding more details).

There was a great battle long ago, yes, so they told him when Sméagol was young, when I was young before the Precious came. - The Two Towers

Again, the I shift happens when this gets more personal- going from 'Sméagol knows relevant information and here is how he knows it' to 'I had a life before the Ring'

Bonus round! I found a bit where he swaps between all three speaking styles.

'Who knows? Sméagol doesn't know,' answered Gollum. 'You cannot reach them, you cannot touch them. We tried once, yes, precious. I tried once; but you cannot reach them. Only shapes to see, perhaps, not to touch. No precious! All dead. - The Two Towers

Who knows? Sméagol doesn't know [explaining the Marshes, impersonal] We tried once, yes, precious. [ruminative, reminding himself, slipping into his old habit] I tried once; [now engaged in his memory, or perhaps catching the 'we' and correcting it.] Only shapes to see, perhaps, not to touch. No precious! [ruminative, mulling over the memory] All dead.

Then there's this- he's alone:

Dirty hobbits, nasty hobbits. Gone and left us, gollum; and Precious is gone. Only poor Sméagol all alone. - The Two Towers

I think he's picturing something like this

"I've used eyes and feet and nose since then."

I have a separate post focusing on Gollum's use of singular first-person, but the short answer is: When he's being very honest, in shock, and/or just not playing word games anymore.

But wait! There's more!

Bonus Round: gollum gollum gollum

SUPRISE! Gollum has a secret fourth speech pattern, which is: How he always talks regardless of whatever other things he is currently doing. This is the part, by the way, that elevates Gollum from 'oh he's quirky eurghgh' to 'oh, he's quirky and there is a master behind the scenes and how many copies did LOTR sell oh this is why. not everyone can do this, in fact, most people can't. This shitpost of a character is the equivalent of da vinci painting a trollface because he can and it's fun. It's supposed to be that way. it's art. EURHGUHGHG'

Behold!

Gollum speaks in long, rambling monologues and repeats himself. He often says things twice, especially if they are short phrases or particularly important ones.

`We are lost, lost,' said Gollum. 'No name, no business, no Precious, nothing. Only empty. Only hungry; yes, we are hungry. A few little fishes, nasty bony little fishes, for a poor creature, and they say death. So wise they are; so just, so very just.' Dust and ashes, he can't eat that. He must starve. But Sméagol doesn't mind. Nice hobbits! Sméagol has promised. He will starve. He can't eat hobbits' food. He will starve. I did escape, all by my poor self. Indeed I was told to seek for the Precious; and I have searched and searched, of course I have. But not for the Black One. The Precious was ours, it was mine I tell you. I did escape. - The Two Towers

Sometimes he repeats things with little variations on them.

I found it, I did. Orcs don't use it, Orcs don't know it. Good master, wise master, nice master! - The Two Towers

(by the way, the thing that twigs my dialog ear most to 'he would not say that/where is my precious? :(' is, for some reason, this staccato speaking rhythm mixed with the long rambling. if i am playing a video game or something where gollum has a cameo, and he doesn't ramble and repeat short sentences, my brain says 'skinsuit gollum :(' because my brain sucks.)

Gollum uses vivid, visceral language that usually evokes an unpleasant mental image.

Then rest now, nice hobbits, under the shadow of the stones, close under the stones! [...] Soft and quick as shadows we must be! But Sméagol has used his eyes since then, yes, yes: I've used eyes and feet and nose since then. That is the road to the left. At once it begins to climb up, up, winding and climbing back towards the tall shadows. When it turns round the black rock, you'll see it, suddenly you'll see it above you, and you'll want to hide. The rocks and stones are like old bones all bare of meat. But the Marshes have grown since then, swallowed up the graves; always creeping, creeping. - The Two Towers

Gollum sometimes speaks in sentence fragments, but usually sparingly.

There is one exception to this when he's super nuclear pissed at Frodo and just starts barking

'Come, Sméagol! ' said Frodo. We are in danger. Men will kill you, if they find you here. Come quickly, if you wish to escape death. Come to Master!' 'No!' said the voice. 'Not nice Master. Leaves poor Sméagol and goes with new friends. Master can wait. Sméagol hasn't finished.' There's no time,' said Frodo.Bring fish with you. Come! ' `No! Must finish fish.' 'Sméagol! ' said Frodo desperately [...] [Now he knows he's about to get arrested] 'Masster, masster!' he hissed. 'Wicked! Tricksy! False!' -The Two Towers (the waterfall scene)

This is notable because a whole row of sentence fragments is not how he usually talks. IT IS NOT HOW HE USUALLY TALKS.

Gollum makes noises.

Ach! sss! [...] We guessed, yes we guessed Ach! No! You try to choke poor Sméagol. I can't find it. Ach!

If it asks us, and we doesn't answer, then we does what it wants, eh? Yes, yes, master: give it back, eh? Sméagol will keep it safe;

Tie us up in the cold hard lands and leave us, gollum, gollum. Good master, good Sméagol, gollum, gollum! I am tired. I, we can't find it, gollum, gollum

The Noise™: It seems involuntary and caused by stress and occasionally, hunger or thoughts about food but then again he's always hungry

Finally, Gollum has a consistent personality, and motivations, and areas of interest, and all of that other character stuff, that comes through at all times, but that is probably off topic for this post.

Anyway. I am abruptly out of things to say. TY for reading

[livingtobethevillain]

IIt's my favorite thing when the batkids are like

"I'm nothing like Bruce/batman >:(" but are so violently intertwined with Bruce's habits and core characteristics that they have no choice but to be just like him.

I love this with Jason and Dick especially.

Jason would pull a Bruce when he gets worried about the outlaws after a mission. He'd be running on adrenaline and panic because one of them almost got hurt or worse killed, and jason (instead of telling them how much he cares about them and NEEDS them to be safer or even taking a moment by himself to decompress) just flies off the handle and all but barks out criticism he tells them how much they fucked up and he's absolutely giving "youre benched from patrol until further noticed" vibes without even realizing it because he's freaking out but he doesn't know how to tell them how scared he was so he just come across cold and controlling. Jason needs his chosen family to be safe. He needs them to be happy and healthy and alive. Because he can't lose anyone else. He can't do it not again. But he can't get that vulnerability across without it feeling humiliating so he lashes out.

Dick on the other hand I feel would be a control freak. He's a people person and he's an extrovert but if he's not leading the mission and he's not aware and informed of every detail he's restless. He also needs organization. If things aren't up to his standards (up to batmans standards) he freaks out. He doesn't always notice how he can get harsh and intimidating when he's tired and sore. He doesn't always notice how he looms over people so perfectly and how people lean away and cower in response.

(EDIT; also imagine how much more the lines would blur after dick had to *literally* be Batman for awhile. Think about the lasting changes to his Fighting Style. Think about his speech patterns and hell his own self expression. I imagine he picks up a BRUTAL resting bitch face after his time as Batman and literally has to be hyper conscious of the face he's making or it'll just drop back into a distintly unimpressed, vaguely threatening expression. That would fuck him up!!!)

They both try so hard to fight against the influence of the same man. But that man made them who they are and removing his influence would be as impossible as removing the blood that flows through their veins.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Paying Attention (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader / requests are OPEN

Summary: You're a little clueless, but the Crows are trying their best to get you to see the light.

SAB/SOC: @the-sweet-psycho (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“You-” Jesper said, sitting down at the card table, crossing one leg over the other and running a gambling chip down his knuckles in an impressive display of his dexterity. “Are clueless.” 

You practically choked on your margarita, eyeing him up and down and yanking the chip from his fingers before he had a chance to pull it from your reach. He cocked a brow at you in quiet respect and you clicked your tongue. 

“Really? How so?” You deposited the chip onto your stack and shot Jesper an award-winning smile. He grunted, not at all impressed.

 

“The boss man,” he said, picking up his cards to check his hand, “and his very obvious feelings for you, of course.” 

You checked your own hand, playing with the stack of chips. You risked a glance at the upstairs balcony area and who do you see? Kaz, of course. He’s leaning down at the tables below with that calculating glower that sends you mad with desire.

Jesper follows your gaze and has to stop himself from snorting. Kaz’s eyes flick over the tables and finally settle on you. The unexpected eye contact sends a shiver down your spine and a flush up your cheeks. Kaz arches one brow at you, expression otherwise not changing. You know him well enough by now to know that that eyebrow raise means ‘are you okay?’ 

You flash him a microscopic nod, which he returns before standing upright again and wandering off in the direction of his office. You know what that means- Inej is here somewhere keeping an eye on things. That leaves him to retire to his office and peer over ledgers and jobs for another several hours. 

“Hello,” a velvet voice says over your shoulder as the body that came with it slid into a chair beside you with such grace it couldn’t have been anyone else other than-

“Inej,” you greeted warmly, placing your cards down for the round. “Kaz have you keeping an eye on things at the Club tonight?” 

She’s barely moving, but you know she’s on high alert, watching and waiting for any sign of trouble. She hummed her confirmation. 

“Yes, he’s concerned the Dime Lions are getting a little too bold with their territory. Kaz wants to make sure they don’t cause any trouble for the Pigeons.” 

“Pigeons,” you reply, watching as Jesper finally makes his move. “Not language I hear you speak in very often.” 

Inej lets out a sigh, allowing herself to break vigilance for just long enough to rub her forehead. 

“No, but you stay in the Barrel long enough, you get used to the local speech patterns.” 

That made sense to you, yes. It was easy enough to slip into the language of the Barrel. Particularly when you spent time in the Crow club and the dodgier parts of town. 

“Inej,” Jesper piped up, that signature look on his face that told you he was about to stir shit up. “You know Kaz better than most- tell me, do you think he has a crush on our dear friend here?” 

You spluttered, slapping Jes on the shoulder playfully in disbelief. You were about to defend your fearless leader once again when you turned to look at Inej. She was usually so good at keeping things to herself, but one look at her expression and you knew she thought the same as Jesper. 

“Oh, no- not you too,” you protested. “You don’t seriously-” 

“Oh, yes,” she said, eyeing a patron by the bar who was starting to look like getting in a fight might not be such a bad idea after all. “Completely smitten.” 

You scoffed once again, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all.

 

“We’re not joking,” Jesper said, placing his hat on his knee. 

Your laugh died off and you frowned thoughtfully. It would be nice if he did have a little crush on you, given how he made you feel, but you weren’t at all convinced. 

“Well then,” you said. “Guess I better start paying more attention and see for myself.” 

[raptorific]

I saw your post re: the silver lining to Biden stepping down. I felt relieved to remember that Trump is now the only incoherent old guy in the race. However, the relief quickly subsided when I remembered that Hillary was very well-spoken and polished, if not quite as young as Harris.

Harris fortunately doesn't have quite the same baggage as Hillary, so I'm hoping that will make the difference. What do you think?

*I realize this could sound like I'm trying to agitate, and I'm not, so no need to post if you don't want to.

So, apologies in advance, because I foresee a lot of Words happening in my response here. It's worth getting into because I feel like a lot of what you're bringing up are legitimate fears but also coming more from a place of Anxiety than from an actual pattern forming

First things first, to be clear, my post about Biden stepping aside did not highlight a silver lining in otherwise bad news. Biden stepping aside has been an objective boon to our chances of securing the White House in November. I wasn't saying "this is bad news, but look on the bright side," I was saying "that dread you're feeling is misguided, because this is, in its entirety, good news."

To your point about Hillary Clinton being well-spoken and polished: that's true! She very much was! However, crucially, the 2016 election was not one characterized by a debate over how polished or articulate the candidates were. The reason this can be considered a "shit the bed" moment for Trump is because of a factor that is present in this election, that was not present against Hillary Clinton: in this election, he spent all his time and energy selling himself as the younger, healthier, less senile of the two candidates, and now he's without his primary selling point in the eyes of this election cycle's electorate.

Now, Trump is actually showing signs of severe mental decline while Biden only shows signs of "a speech impediment" and "being over 80" and on a physical level Biden is very obviously much more healthy than him, but nonetheless, through a series of lucky breaks and crafty rhetoric, he was able to sell the public on the idea of Biden being some sort of Corpse Puppet. The reason why that matters is because he successfully sold voters on the concept "someone who is old, who can't get through a sentence, is not fit to be president." That narrative wasn't a factor in 2016, and it is in 2024.

The other important factor to remember about 2016 is the context in which that election happened, and why the dirty tricks and bigotry leveled at Hillary by the right actually worked on the public. Specifically, at the time, we were coming off eight years of a black president, a historic first, who the republicans had spent years and years trying to oust or otherwise discredit, and who was poised to come out of office as a fairly well-respected figure.

Voters have a tendency to view white men as, for lack of a better term, "Default" or "Normal" with no modifiers. Many of the people who voted for Trump were people who had, in reality, no specific problem with a black president, but felt that after eight years it was time to get back to "Normal." They saw Clinton, another huge Historic First as the would-be First Female President, and a lot of them said "no thanks, we just had a president who's African-American, we don't want to switch to one who's Woman-American, let's reset back to a Normal-American (read: White Man) before we do any more Progress, otherwise it'll feel like the world is changing too fast."

There's obviously other factors at play. I'm not denying Clinton had other problems as a candidate, but an overwhelming amount of why she lost was rooted in the electorate's misogyny, and their desire to return to a status quo of a white man-- almost any white man-- with no other Identity Categories, as president. It's why I do think Joe Biden would've handily won the 2016 election, had he chosen to run, but I'm not here to play the what-if game.

It's also worth mentioning, at this stage, that most of the country actually was okay with having a Woman President, and, specifically, with having Hillary Clinton be that woman president-- she received more votes than Trump by the millions-- it was only due to the system-rigging done hundreds of years ago by slavers that he was allowed to become president despite the will of the voters.

So, the reason why this matters: voters tend to like a change, to a certain extent. Barack Obama was largely able to win election in 2008 specifically because he was a young, handsome, charismatic black candidate, who stood in stark contrast to his opponent, an older white guy who just kinda seemed like a redux of the bumbling old white guy everyone already hated as President at the time. Trump won largely because of a pendulum swing away from Historic First Barack Obama being the status quo.

Right now, we've been governed by two Old White Guys for the past eight years, one from each major party. In the 2016 climate, a Historic First, electing a Something-American, was scary and intimidating to a lot of voters. This year, in 2024, we're playing a different ball game: Donald Trump is selling More Of The Same (old white guys who've been in all the elections for the past eight years and who both come across somewhat bumbling) while Kamala Harris is selling a refreshing change of pace (a younger Black and Indian woman who is visibly competent, intelligent, charismatic, and let's not downplay the effect this has on the electorate, attractive).

I maintain that running a female candidate in 2016 was, unfortunately, a political miscalculation. I think that if it had been two straight, christian white guys, the election would've been made about the issues and it would've gone to the democrats. Novelty was a liability for a candidate in 2016. In 2024, "more of the same" is a liability, and novelty could prove the greatest blessing.

Hell, look at how excited people got when Biden dropped out, and suddenly people had something election-related to pay attention to other than "BREAKING NEWS: ELECTION STILL COMING IN NOVEMBER, PROBABLY WILL GO BAD."

To your point about the baggage with Clinton: an important thing to understand is that the Republicans identified her political ambitions as early as the 1980s, and started drafting their "Running against her for President" playbook as soon as Bill was president. They were ready to take her down in 2000 when they worried she'd run, and in 2008 when she was a frontrunner for the nomination, and then finally managed to use it in 2016 when she actually was the nominee. Trump lucked into a showdown with, to re-use a recent analogy, an enemy whose Kryptonite he happened to have inherited.

The misogynist attacks on Hillary Clinton largely worked because they had been thoroughly seeded over the preceding 30 years. Many people, even democrats, really didn't like Hillary, for reasons both Fair and Unfair, and a lot of the people who voted for her were, as the cliche goes, holding their nose and voting blue. A lot of the median swing voters fell hook, line, and sinker for the GOP attacks on her, and either stayed home or voted for the other guy.

As I mentioned in my previous post, they don't have much of a playbook for Kamala Harris. They've done zero preparation for the possibility of her presidential run because they thought they wouldn't have to worry about her until 2028, if at all. They've tried "she laughs weird" but it doesn't really work because people are finding it endearing and because their guy does everything weird. They've tried "she's a childless cat lady" and that offended everyone's casually conservative step-parents and lost them a bunch of support. Trump's campaign has been tripling down on bolstering support of their small but vocal Base, by hammering down on the idea that she's a "far-left radical" but that's just a page out of the playbook they use for everybody, and doesn't really play with anybody who isn't already voting for them.

And, I already hear people typing to remind me not to forget this, they have tried the racist angle, painting her as a "DEI hire" and an "affirmative action vice president," or even claiming she's ineligible to serve because her parents were immigrants. Firstly, again, they're borrowing a failed page from their anti-Obama playbook for that last one, and second, the actually competent republican strategists have been begging the public-facing parts of the party to please stop attacking her on the basis of race and gender, for one simple reason:

Mask-off racism loses you votes. It's why Trump always has to pretend like he cares about "black jobs" and that his problem with immigration is that "Mexico is sending us all their bad hombres" rather than admitting that his problem is just that the people immigrating are Mexican at all. It's why top Republicans spent the past 16 years talking about birth certificates and constitutional eligibility for Obama, instead of just calling him slurs.

You can win voters by saying "we're okay with a black president, but the Democrats are breaking the rules by letting this guy in particular be president, it's not about him being black, it's about him being ineligible." You don't win voters by saying "keep the white house white." The people who that second thing would work on? Already voting republican 100% of the time.

Which is another important reason to have hope here: in 2016, the Republicans were still maintaining the (objectively false) pretense of not being racist. I don't think anything's changed about the Republican party between the Nixon era and today except that now, they say the quiet part loud. They've spent the past eight years systematically eliminating the power-players who maintain the Not Racist masquerade and replacing them with people who will actively say overtly, unabashedly racist shit without pretending it's about something else. It's why the republican strategists keep begging people not to attack her on the grounds of race: it will lose them voters.

That's more or less the short version of my summary of why I think 2024 will go differently than 2016. I hope I'm right. I'm right about a lot more stuff than I'm wrong about, but I'm also wrong about a lot of stuff, so I might not be. Nothing's over until it's over. If you don't want to see a repeat of 2016, go make sure you're registered to vote, and then on Election Day, go vote for Kamala Harris. Either she, or Donald Trump, will become the president at the end of this year. There is no third option that is mathematically capable of happening. If you are legally eligible to vote and physically capable of doing so, voting for Kamala Harris is the only action you can take (including inaction) that can prevent Donald Trump from taking over the country and doing away with any semblance of US Democracy altogether.

We can win this. With all of our help, we will win this. Doomerism on the left benefits nobody but the right. People being genuinely excited from now until November might actually translate into electoral victory.

[writing-with-sophia]

How to write an elderly main character?

I'm back! Because school is quite busy and I'm about to take exams, I don't have time to post new articles. I wonder if anyone remembers me. (probably not, lol)

There are many novels that feature elderly as main characters, for example, "The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared" by Jonas Jonasson or "Our Souls at Night" by Kent Haruf. Today, I'll show you a few tips for writing this type of character.

When writing an elderly main character, it's important to approach the portrayal with sensitivity, authenticity, and a nuanced understanding of the aging process. Here are some tips to consider when developing an elderly main character:

Characterization: Create a well-rounded character with depth and complexity. Consider their personality traits, background, life experiences, and values. Remember that elderly individuals, like people of any age, can have diverse personalities and interests. Give your character hobbies, interests, and passions that reflect their individuality and bring richness to their life. Older adults can have a wide range of hobbies, such as gardening, art, music, or storytelling, which can add depth to their character.

Realism: Research and understand the aging process. Gain insights into the physical, cognitive, and emotional changes that commonly occur in older adults. This will help you create a realistic portrayal of your elderly character and avoid stereotypes or misconceptions.

Language and Dialogue: Reflect the character's age and life experience in their language and dialogue. Consider the vocabulary, speech patterns, and cultural references that may align with their generation. However, be cautious not to overuse stereotypes or make assumptions about their language abilities.

Challenges and Strengths: Portray the challenges and strengths that come with aging. Depict the character's struggles with age-related issues such as health concerns, memory loss, or changes in mobility. These changes can impact how your character interacts with the world and inform their daily routines and challenges. Also, highlight their resilience, wisdom, and life experience as sources of strength.

Relationships and Interactions: Explore the character's relationships with people of different ages, including family members, friends, and younger individuals. Show how their interactions and perspectives may differ from those of younger characters, while also highlighting the potential for intergenerational connections. This can involve exploring intergenerational conflicts, mentorship, or the passing down of wisdom and traditions.

Avoid Ageism: Be mindful of ageist stereotypes or biases and avoid perpetuating them in your portrayal. Treat the character with respect and dignity, highlighting their agency, autonomy, and ongoing personal growth.

Emotional Depth: Explore the character's emotional landscape, including their joys, fears, regrets, and aspirations. Show their emotional growth and the ways in which they navigate and adapt to life's challenges.

Seek Input: Consider seeking input or feedback from older adults or conducting research to gain firsthand insights into their experiences. This can help ensure an authentic portrayal and avoid generalizations or assumptions.

Life History: Develop a backstory for your character that encompasses their life experiences, significant events, and milestones. Consider how their past has shaped them and influenced their perspectives, values, and motivations.

Cultural Context: Take into account the cultural and historical context in which your character grew up and lived their life. Different generations may have distinct cultural references, societal expectations, or historical events that have influenced their worldview.

Social Roles: Explore the roles your character has played throughout their life, such as parent, grandparent, spouse, or professional. Consider how these roles may have evolved over time and how they perceive their identity in relation to these roles.

Please remember that every character is unique, and individual differences should be considered when writing an elderly main character. Approach the portrayal with empathy, respect, and a commitment to representing the complexity and richness of older individuals' lives.

If you want to read more posts about writing, please click here and give me a follow!

[trigun-manga-overhaul]

I've always been meaning to ask- It's generally known that Wolfwood has a Kansai dialect in the original Japanese, which you've chosen to localize in English, but what I'm curious about is: does Livio have any sort of dialect or accent in Japanese as well? It seems the way he speaks in your translation has a some of the same quirks as Wolfwood, so that really got me curious.

Hey there and thanks for the ask!

Yes, it is 100% clear in the Japanese text that Wolfwood speaks with a Kansai accent. I remember reading in an interview long ago that Nightow imagined this accent to be southern or very cowboy in English, but I do not have it on hand so I can't back it up. Either way, we decided to go with the southern twang for Wolfwood, to ensure that his distinct speech prevails.

Now, Livio is a very interesting one with his language, as it goes through a metamorphosis during the time he has in the manga. It changes a lot, and that goes hand in hand with his character arc.

The first very obvious change that happens to Livio's speech, is his move from very polite, controlled and submissive speech as we meet him. Obviously this reflects his position as a pawn to the Eye of Michael. The key factors in this are the lack of dialect and his usage of "私, Watashi" to refer to himself.

This changes as he becomes Razlo.

Razlo's speech is pretty distinct. No, he does not have a thick Kansai dialect like Wolfwood, but he does pronounce words in certain ways. His speech is the kind that Japanese people would describe as vulgar; low class, gang-like. Razlo is a punk in every sense of the word when it comes to how he talks, both in the pronouns used towards other character, always the most hostile ones you can pick, and always speaks in a disrespectful manner towards anyone who isn't Chapel. This is also where we see "俺, Ore" used towards himself, a pronoun considered rude, or very masculine, if not used casually with your close friends.

When Livio is finally freed from Chapel and the Eye of Michael, he transforms more into his true self. He begins to use "俺, Ore" towards himself, his speech becomes more casual, occasionally playful, but also with some force. This is where it gets interesting.

Livio's speech pattern is reminiscent of the Japanese masculine stereotype of the Kyushu Danji, the macho man, or as would be perceived in the West, a core picture of toxic masculinity. However, since this is Nightow we're talking about, the idea is turned on its head.

Livio, despite being portrayed as a big, muscly, tough guy in almost every way he can be, is instead called Crybaby Livio. His emotions are on the outside, he's gentle, loving, and polite towards women. He even tries to imitate Meryl's very proper speech when he meets her, wanting to be respectful. He is everything that a Kyushu Danji isn't, yet speaks a lot like such a person when it comes to the patterns of his speech.

On the topic of this trope; Wolfwood tries his hardest to be a person like that, a Kyushu Danji, and it causes him mostly suffering. Wolfwood is indeed a victim of toxic masculinity himself, which makes it very interesting how this behavior is portrayed in the series. One suffers because of it, another turns the whole trope on its head and gives us the opposite.

Just more of those tiny Nightow things that I personally very much appreciate, especially for its time.

The short answer:

Livio does not exactly have the same written dialect in the manga like Wolfwood, however his speech is supposed to be crude, and "low class", something the Japanese often connect with the Kansai dialect. So, we decided on the team to give Livio a similar dialect to Wolfwood.