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i think i don't really vibe with most other fans of my favorite male characters is because they usually depict them too much of a man, and i am not interested in men, i am interested in The Character. and i am not saying that they should depict them as women, or nonbinary, or should depict them as feminine, no, not at all. but there's like, you know, you can depict a male character as The Character, and you can depict them as The Man. do you get me? like, i go to the fandom looking for art and fics, and it's just, regardless of his actual characterization, it's all just fantasizing about some kind of an abstract dominant patriarch, wearing my favorite character's face. it may be the most totally-wouldnt-have-normal-relationships (and sometimes even would-literally-abuse-you) kind of guy, and you join a dedicated space for his fans, and all they talk about is how they want to marry and start a tradcore 50s style nuclear family with him. it can be a guy who's arrogance and attempts of domination are explicitly shown to be a facade that hide the fact that he's actually kind of a massive pathetic wet loser, and you go to his fics, and they're all depicting him as a caricaturish daddy dom. at this point it's like, do you even like the character at all, or do you just like The Man, and project this man onto whatever character you find visually attractive? and these people kind of, really really poison actual discussion of the character, who is kind of a fucked up evil person (i only like *those* types, so im talking about them) because they see analysis of the actual character as an attack on their fantasized daddy dom husband, who is actually isn't The Character at all, and is simply a face of the day for The Man
okay the island sanctuary visit with the emma & sicard dipshit duo is very cute, but i would give an arm for this to be Aymeric and Estinien visiting me on beach holiday island instead
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When I was in uni my housemates had a baby, and we taught them some sign language so they could communicate before all their mouth parts were coordinated yet. None of us knew Auslan but two of us were familiar with the signs that the State Emergency Services used in the field so we worked with those.
The kid learned to request a drink, which is great, because that's like the #1 most important thing for a baby to be able to request, but instead of learning any of the other signs they just used modified versions of the drink sign to ask for all kinds of things. They couldn't actually make the proper drink sign (it requires some level of hand control) and used a modified wave, so they ended up with a whole bunch of subtly different waves to ask for stuff. Which was pretty fun in public because strangers would coo over this adorable baby who kept waving at them when, in practice, the baby wanted their ice cream.
#you can teach babies sign language before words?#huh i guess i always assumed they'd gain language at the same rate regardless of whether it's spoken or signed
Babies gain language much earlier than they start talking. They can understand you before they know how to make the right word sounds with their mouths. Speaking, like writing, is a feat of incredible physical coordination that we generally undervalue because it's been muscle memory for years or decades, but it involves a lot of very precise coordinated physical movements that take a lot longer to learn than the words themselves do for someone who's new at this whole having a body thing. Complex language is also not all that critical for baby sign language. To a baby, communicating hunger via crying or via reaching towards your food isn't markedly different to communicating it with a hand gesture, and they don't need particularly sophisticated language skills to do any of those things, so you can start teaching them hand signs pretty much as soon as they have a concept of deliberately communicating with others.
Babies do need simple gestures, though, because they're not any better at coordinating their fingers than they are their lips.
always funny to remember darth vader is anakin skywalker. the adrenaline junkie chucklefuck who used to dive head first out of speeders and built a pod racer in his yard when he was like six is now upper-middle management for the evil empire. half of his appearances in the original trilogy are Meetings. vader spends like 80% of his time dealing with bureaucratic bullshit. status updates. team meetings. holo-Zooms. budget rundowns. anakin betrayed the jedi and caused the fall of the republic and his punishment is being CC'd on every email forever. and you know what. he would hate that. the punishment fits the criminal
Insensitivity reader to make sure that your characters are ignorant assholes in the ways that make the most sense for the characterization you're trying to achieve
ok no but we really need this service. I read a horror novel whose protagonist was a gay british aristocrat studying classics at oxford and going to Tibet in 1900. And the first roughly third of the book was assuring the audience he was from a woke christian denomination but didn't believe in god and thought that was silly and also his lower class manservant/ boyfriend/ childhood best friend was the top and so he never thought to try and order his BF around. So he's like, woke in a 21st century way. Not racist, not misogynistic, thinks that the classics are so droll for not being more about asia, isn't doing really unethical sex tourism in the east like a LOT of gay aristocrats did in the empire. 1900. it is 1900. He's woke in 1900. the book is about some freaky shit going down in Tibet in 1900 with a british aristo and he's woke. aaaahhhhh!!!!! It's like that post with Eric Cartman giving his fucking pronouns as he/they
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played for nearly 7 hours straight today on the count that i have no lectures on wednesdays and made it maybe (?) halfway through post-heavensward. im not sure but i honestly thought it was over after we killed Big Hogg and got estinien back but its still going.
i really love aymeric and how righteous he is i think i just have a thing for the knightly and just
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"It baffles the mind that you keep coming here only to waste your time making furniture as if you were less. You deny your true nature and squander energy to whittle."
Altani knew that Zenos was goading her. This was the weekly ritual. He was alive. He was sitting on a chair she'd made and complaining about it. This once empty room in a small building near the Last Dregs had become his dwelling. It was still derelict in her opinion, but she had begun to turn it around. The building was stable with a little help from some other denizens. Once that was finished, she had started making furniture for the pouting prince.
It was more for her than for him. She wouldn't have housed a dog in the ruins before. When she learned that he was staying in this empty house, lying on the floor in the dust, she immediately began to rectify the situation. The seats in the Last Dregs were fine for a short café visit, but she was spending more time here. It made sense to have a place that she could rest. Zenos might not care about his lodgings, but she wasn't going to sit around in the dark like some sort of wretched animal. Before she had devoted her time to the scions, she was a carpenter. It was always nice to return to her roots.
Unlike her work in the firmament, all the furniture she'd made for this house was in the Steppe style. Low beds and tables, dozens of rugs and pillows. The bookshelf she'd made was more western in structure, but the carvings on it were from her tribe, the Borlaaq. She had always considered him Xaela at heart. Seeing him among the trappings of her people suited him despite his grumblings. It gave her something to listen to while she worked. There was a pile of wood blocks on the table, next to a knife that had been staked in the center. After this stool, she planned to make something more artistic, like a trinket box. Not that Zenos would ever have any trinkets to put in such a thing, she thought. Still, a house was not a home without a few knick-knacks.
"Move to the floor if you truly hate comfort so much," she replied, not looking up from the leg of the stool she was whittling, as he called it. "Misery for the sake of misery is a waste of time. You only think it is less because it is not something you have ever had to do," she said. "Garleans are soft and spoiled, and you are no exception."
Her mother would have scolded her for keeping a pet. She smiled. Keeping a baras indoors would have been less dangerous than what she was doing now.
Zenos studied her, but she was unruffled by the length and depth of his gaze. She was never unnerved by him. A puzzle that still fascinated, despite the hours already poured into it. She was often annoyed or enraged, but there was no tension. He'd thrown a knife at her last week, but she caught in her hand and stabbed it into the table. Then she had yelled at him for making her ruin the table. The knife was still there. She had still returned for another visit.
"There is nothing about me that is soft," he said.
Curious. She hesitated with her carving. Her face made an interesting expression as her eyes darted to look at him before becoming intensely focused on her work, refusing to rest her eyes on him a moment longer.
"Spoiled then. You and I had opposite upbringings," she muttered. "No one cared whether you lived or died, but gave you everything. My family and my tribe loved me, but I was given nothing. Everything I had to make for myself. My apprenticeship began at eight, and by fourteen I was making furniture for the tribe to sell."
That was true. His belongings had mattered little to him and it brought no joy, but there was an endless supply of anything he might need. As for her, he hadn't given it much thought before.
Who was she before they'd met?
When they had clashed at Rhalgar's Reach, he knew little of her other than the murmurings of soldiers. Heroes were nothing to him. He'd ended hundreds of so-called heroes in battles. None lingered in his mind. But her...
He remembered the day clearly. Her eyes blazed blue with a pink glow and her dark purple skin was glazed with sweat. Her lips were pulled back to show off sharp white teeth. That day he had felt something in his chest as she swung up her axe to clash against his sword. The surrounding battle slowed to a crawl. Even as her might faltered, he felt a spark of something, and he could not kill a creature such as she. There was a ferocity that he knew would only grow. In time, she would become more magnificent. To cut her down would be folly.
The circumstances leading up to her creation hardly mattered then. It was the future battle that he cared about.
He watched her as she continued her work. Her hands that masterfully held the axe also held the carving knife. She had an entire life before him, one that contained time for whittling. He had devoted every moment of his life to the hunt, and yet he still came up short compared to her. It was doubtful that mirroring her activities would make him a better warrior, but the annoying elezen girl's words came back to him. If he only pursued his pleasures, he would never get what he wanted from Altani. Woodworking was important to her for some godsforsaken reason.
Zenos reached over to the table and pulled out the knife. He took a small piece of wood from the pile and sat down on the floor in front of her. Altani looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Come then, show me this pastime that takes you away from your purpose," he said. "What was the first thing your master showed you to make?"
She smiled at him and put down the stool. "Wooden pegs, but I already have enough of those. How about we start with spoons?" She pulled out a pencil from her tool bag and began to explain the process, sketching out the shape on his wood block. She pulled another block for herself to make as well.
He still felt that carving was a waste of time when they could be sparring, but somehow as he held his rough spoon against her perfect one, it didn't seem quite so pointless.
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