#same speech patterns

[snowstories]

My biggest tip for fanfic writers is this: if you get a character's mannerisms and speech pattern down, you can make them do pretty much whatever you want and it'll feel in character.

Logic: Characters, just like real people, are mallable. There is typically very little that's so truly, heinously out of character that you absolutely cannot make it work under any circumstance. In addition, most fans are also willing to accept characterization stretches if it makes the fic work. Yeah, we all know the villain and the hero wouldn't cuddle for warmth in canon. But if they did do that, how would they do it?

What counts is often not so much 'would the character do this?' and more 'if the character did do this, how would they do it?' If you get 'how' part right, your readers will probably be willing to buy the rest, because it will still feel like their favourite character. But if it doesn't feel like the character anymore, why are they even reading the fic?

Worry less about whether a character would do something, and more about how they'd sound while doing it.

[vaguely-concerned]

I really really like that lucanis reaches the 'there must be some way through this' realization 'off camera', so to speak, while presumably looking at rook explaining the situation to spite. it just. hits right. he gets that moment to himself after 'this place is a nightmare, why would I want to stay here' to come back into focus, to gather himself and think it through in peace, outside of the demands of anyone’s gaze (including the player’s!), while rook takes care of spite’s confusion and urgency and distress as he can’t himself in this shattered state. they're inside his soul, but he still gets that moment of privacy, with rook and spite there and supporting but not intruding. idk there's just something so good and right-feeling about it. rook's presence in lucanis' mind at its most vulnerable and frozen could have felt SO invasive if the quest wasn't written as skillfully as it is, and I get skeeved out by that kind of thing incredibly easily so it's a testament to how well it's done that it always feels safe and supportive. lucanis has had both his bodily and psychological (slash spiritual/existential) integrity and autonomy violated so brutally and repeatedly, and having even the way the camera perceives him here grant him the dignity and respect and privacy of soul he hasn’t experienced in a long time… it’s a whole thing huh. No wonder it’s taken me a while to put it into words lol 

(also what a contrast to what solas and rook have got going on, and what a sly way to slide the point of comparison in there to build to the thematic whole. the solas version of this IS of course wildly invasive and skeeves me out but in the intended delighted horror movie way. solas, too, was let into someone’s soul through the cracks in the wake of a traumatic event, and he IMMEDIATELY sought to turn it to his own benefit and use that trauma as a weapon against them fhdsja I’m sorry but it’s just such a character-revealing instinct for him to act on without hesitation and I love how terrible he is, it’s all so unforgivably premeditated and consistent.

rook acting out of the desire to make sure lucanis is ok vs. solas going ‘well. When life gives you oops killed my friend, make dead friend poisoned lemonade and make his loved ones drink it. this sunk cost fallacy isn’t going to perpetuate itself’ is such a neat contrast and it’s not in your face about it but it’s still there, deep and solid down in the thematic narrative. rook doesn’t do anything to or in lucanis’ mind, really — they negotiate their way through the layers of defense and are let through, and they help him make the whole thing more explicable, but they never exert any force or go rooting around for anything that doesn’t present itself to them first. solas goes about gathering ammo for when he's going to nothing personel kid this person from like the first moment fhdskh doesn't waste a second before he's on that gaslight gatekeep girlboss grind. the fact that the game goes out of its way to show there IS a respectful, non-selfish and kind version of this process makes what solas is doing even more deliciously awful (glee) and rook and lucanis’ relationship (platonic, romantic, whatever it might be in any given playthrough) all the more moving to me)

[curtis-brothers-hug]

Ponyboy is that sibling who constantly talks about how different he and Darry are, and then you actually meet Darry and see the two of them interact for the first time and you’re like……they are the same person.

[kentuckycaverats]

moping about playing an oc for the last time feels so fucking lame. kicking rocks like haha yea i just get this like profound aching sadness in my chest when i think about her haha. yea the pretend character i made up who lives in my brain forever who i can create limitless new story for at any time. do you do euthenasia here

[stellar-collective]

Ollie didn’t have high enough security clearance to have access to a single detail about what had happened to Phoenix and Mr. Crane.

Later in the day, another memo was issued assuring the EOD that the board had every hope of getting their top agent and their handler back, along with orders to keep every eye and ear open and immediately report any signs of them.

It quickly became clear that no other details were to follow.

Ollie wasn’t sure if the first part was just to quell panic over the star of the Agency getting burned or not, but it sure didn’t make him feel better. Phoenix was out there somewhere, almost certainly in trouble, and no one at the Agency was allowed to help them. He had no idea if Mr. Crane was even still alive.

…No one had even bothered to tell him in person that his friends weren’t coming home.

first ~ prev ~ next

*pounding my fists on the table* angst angst angst angst

i’ve decided that i’m going to set a very soft schedule of a new part every Thursday, but i’m making no promises lol

[balkanlila]

[threedeebeetle]

so I just haven’t said anything to any of my grandparents about being on T. I know I’ll have to eventually but for now I just haven’t felt the need to explain anything.

so my grandfather called the other night and said hello. I greeted him as normal except didn’t say ‘papa’ (not deliberately, it’s just what came out of my mouth) and he was a bit hesitant, saying “I’m… I’m not sure if I have the right number, honestly”. I laughed as I realized that he didn’t recognize my voice, and said “oh! it’s me, papa!”.

he seemed relieved and still slightly awkwardly said “oh, haha, you see, it’s just that your voice has changed so much!” and I was like wait. did he figure it out? so he kept talking and asked if my parents were around. when I said no he said he just wanted to know if we’re going to plan something for easter (they’re christian) and then asked what was new with me. I told him about this one job that I’m hoping to get over the summer, and how it was a summer camp, but this one was different from the camp I’d worked at before because it was a computer camp.

he said that was cool and said something like “well, it’s good to try to take these opportunities, because you never know where they will lead you!” that I didn’t understand because he knows my career path but didn’t think much of because he just says stuff sometimes. and then to close off he says “you take care, [teenage brother’s name]”.

so we had that entire conversation and he thought I was my brother

[whentherewerebicycles]

baby updates:

before bed we crawl-chased each other down the hallway which makes him laugh and laugh. we also played the game where I collapse on the floor at one end of the hall and pretend to fall asleep, and then he crawls towards me at top crawl speeds (giggling to himself the whole way), clambers on top of me, and CHOMPS me on the cheek. gosh I love him so much.

I was also noticing today that he’s definitely going through some social-emotional changes lol… he’s always been prone to loudly complaining when he feels he’s been wronged in some way but lately has started having these little proto-tantrums when I say no to him or take a forbidden object away from him. before he was pretty easy to redirect and got over stuff fast but now he’s like oh my GOD I WILL NEVER FORGET THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and can really melt down about stuff for quite a long time. he has also started doing a thing where he tenses and extends his entire body with a ROAR OF WORDLESS RAGE when I’m trying to hold him after taking a forbidden object from him. THERE WILL BE NO SNUGGLING, MOTHER. I am positive this will get old fast as he gets older lol but for now it’s just kind of fun to observe as a social development thing.

he is waving now, not 100% of the time, but often enough that I think it counts as being able to wave lol. I enthusiastically say HI OWEN and BYE BYE OWEN and wave to him and he sort of stares blankly at me and then wiggles his fingers back in this vague half-hearted way, like hi weirdo… another day in your company, I guess…

he was sooooooo into music class today. all the other kids sit on their parents’ laps while we sing but he insists on crawling into the middle of the circle and sitting there by himself clapping and listening to the teacher play her ukulele or clap the rhythm. several times today we would finish singing a song as a group and then in the pause that followed he would sit up on his knees and break out into a long string of passionate “singing” sounds of his own while looking earnestly around at everyone with this expression of “I am here too contributing!!!” it was honestly kind of incredible to watch. like I’m not claiming that he’s a virtuoso musician or anything ahaha I think this is developmentally quite typical. but it’s soooo amazing to me that humans are so deeply wired for making music that a child that young can be so moved by people singing together that he spontaneously bursts into song on his own. also it’s such an incredible testament to humans’ deeply ingrained social instincts!! this little preverbal child wanting to be part of the group experience of making music together. it was so wonderful and we have such a good time there.

[meowizard]

it was so crazy of ds9 to drop 'cardassians flirt by arguing' in one episode and then look at the rest of the cardassian cast (cough garak) and go 'but we don't have to remember that'

[serpenttailedangel]

The (entirely undisclosed) writing system Brin came up with in the World of Elan drives me nuts. Symbols were made with consideration for the schwa sound and their version of S looks like an O. (Or at least, whatever the first sound in their word for 'sun' is, that letter looks like an O.) The schwa accommodation alone means it's not the Latin alphabet. The S/O thing is probably further proof it's not the Latin alphabet, but could also indicate they're not speaking English. Which is kind of a moot point because everything pre-Riyria is implicitly localized into English if for no other reason than that most of the Fhrey language is blatantly localized and in Legends and also the old writing in Riyria does not match modern speech which is, itself, portrayed in English.

Anyway, it's not the Latin alphabet nor does it seem to be a cipher of the Latin alphabet because, again, it's got schwas. Assuming I read the bit about Brin and Roan discussing schwas correctly, anyway.

So they're not speaking English probably and they're also definitely not writing with the Latin alphabet or a 1:1 cypher... yet in Death of Dulgath, Payne makes a point of explicitly stating that his name is spelled with a Y and an E rather than an I, and Royce later makes a quip about his name being Pain after all.

(Not even gonna get into all the other times etymology is made up for words in the story, or the apparent vowel shift that managed to happen during the only few centuries of the empire where reading was wide-spread.)

I understand this is all still something that can be handwaved by saying "it's just localized into English" but my brain is still churning over this. Like...

Royce's whole entire name comes from a misread of Roy, a couple city segments reduced to initials, and someone slurring the words "male" and "born" together. And I'm gonna just ignore that the E in Royce is silent and the implications that has on the in-story alphabet. I'm not ignoring it. "Royce" only has three phonemes in it and even if you assume that the actual city section symbols were swapped out for Latin alphabet letters, how much space does that leave for the name Turin claimed while dropping him off at the orphanage? Did Brin invent a whole entire alphabet with useless extra letters despite her writing system actually being tailored for the language it was made in? Did the local language morph to the point of dropping certain sounds but keeping the old spelling, thus generating silent letters? Why? The vowel shift that I said I wasn't gonna get into seems, at least from how I read it, to mean that words are outright spelled differently between Fariland and Esrahaddon's time, which seems to imply that they adjust spellings to stick to pronunciation more readily than English does. But his last name is just comes from slurring the words "male" and "born" together. Given that there's no necessary reason for those words to be the same, what's his real name.

I understand that any second-world fantasy I read that uses names that sound like English words technically has this problem, but most of them don't also reference inventing an a writing system that explicitly isn't English and then making me think about it.

Realistically, I don't want Tolkien levels of worldbuilding. I like conlangs and fantasy writing systems, but when they're on the level of needing to read an appendix to learn that the fantasy language actually has a formal and informal you but only in certain cultures and some of the characters didn't use it and there were nuances to the social interactions I read that went overlooked due to all utterances of "you" being translated with the same word in English, you are expecting too much of me as a reader. But like... there is a little part of me that wants to know what their real names are when you tie their names to a bunch of words that I'm assuming were localized.

Also I'd like a Fhrey dictionary. I just... I need to know the pattern for the words. I want this.

[spooksier]

getting back into doctor who makes me jump for joy this show sucks so bad <3333

[kardulis]

i introduced a friend to dnp for the first time a few days ago and im already getting hatecrimed for it :/

[peaches2217]

All the Gold in the World

This was my very first Mario fic, originally published June 22/23, 2023! As the original Tumblr publication was on a burner account, in celebration of its (belated) anniversary, I figured I'd give it its long-deserved place on my main blog. Please enjoy this throwback! And here's the AO3 link.

~~~

There it was again, that telltale sparkle in those big, blue, beautiful eyes. It was just as Peasley had hoped: an invitation to sneak away from the dreary duties of the palace in favor of strolling an upscale shopping pavilion arm-in-arm, a bit of light conversation about how worn his favorite tunic was becoming and won’t you help me choose a new one today, my love?, and a break for coffee that just happened to see them seated across from a display of some of the finest, most colorful, undoubtedly most expensive gowns in the kingdom, all efforts to disguise (and eventually expose) his true plan.

Seeing the awe in his Luigi’s eyes as he cast longer and longer glances at the display, watching the corners of his lips twitch beneath his mustache as the subtle spark of innuendo grew into a flame of yearning… he’d known it, oh, he’d known it all along!

Now, Peasley was very clever, and his consort had the loveliest of tastes, so how this knowledge had eluded him for so long, he was ashamed to say he wasn’t certain. But it didn’t matter now. The only question that mattered now was—

“Which of those gowns are you eyeing, my pet?”

Luigi sputtered so hard that a small mouthful of coffee forced its way past his lips.

“Wh— gowns? What gowns?” he stuttered, wiping the coffee dribbling from his chin with the back of his hand, a shamed blush overtaking him. “I don’t see any gowns!”

Peasley, unfazed, handed him a paper napkin. “I was thinking the deep green A-line with the bell sleeves, personally. The color’s a given, and the silhouette would compliment your form exquisitely. Perfect for the upcoming Edamame Extravaganza.”

Luigi hastily wiped his glove and the table clean, his mouth opening and closing in a way that wasn’t unlike a Cheep Cheep caught on dry land. Assorted sounds came out, but nothing coherent. 

Peasley couldn’t help but chuckle. His Greenie had a number of interests he’d tried to hide, offering up such excuses as “It’s embarrassing!” and “It’s really nothing, just a dumb pastime, you know?” when he was inevitably discovered. Yet every last one of those interests enamored Peasley, and perhaps none more so than this. Oh, how proud he was of his own detective work.

“I— I-I just couldn’t pull off a dress that well,” Luigi finally managed, “you know?”

“Nonsense! You once pulled off a more stunning Peach than the real deal. You didn’t hear that from me, of course.”

Luigi simply hid behind his coffee, humming nervously. His Starbeans order was always the same: a medium-roast Hoolumbian with so much nutmeg that the air around them smelled like a winter market. Watching him sip and hum and blush, Peasley found himself craving pumpkin spice.

“But they’re so… expensive, right?” Luigi eventually said into his near-empty cup. “I-I could never! I’d never ask for something like that!”

Ah, of course! His Luigi had come from a commoner’s background, after all. Little had changed since he’d become Prince Consort of the Beanbean Kingdom. He was still more comfortable in cotton and denim than the tunics and robes of the palace, he still preferred tinkering with pipes and assorted machinery to sitting in committees or kissing babies as adoring citizens fawned over him, and, so it would seem, he still worried about money, as though an entire royal family’s wealth wasn’t his to partake in.

“You needn’t concern yourself with such matters!” Peasley’s right hand met Luigi’s left, their fingers lacing together. Luigi’s hands were larger, quite a bit so, and yet they fit Peasley’s like a lock and key. “I would never offer something I couldn’t afford to give.”

That statement wasn’t entirely true — he’d promise his love a five-course banquet if all he had was a single loaf of bread, and by the stars he’d make it happen — but he could most certainly afford this, and that was essential to reinforce. For weeks now, he had been privately swooning to thoughts of Luigi strolling through the lush gardens of the palace, clad in silk and velvet that swished at his feet with every step, a crown of matching roses in the place of his favorite hat. He was one step closer to bringing that image into reality, and that was worth all the gold in the world.

And yet the reassurance didn’t seem to quell any of Luigi’s worries — in fact, he only looked more stressed, more uncertain. He stared awfully hard at some spot on the table that Peasley couldn’t see, and his fingers had gone rigid in Peasley’s hold, and— was he… trembling?

Dread blossomed in Peasley’s gut. Had he done something wrong?

“Luigi.” His opposite hand reached out to touch his face, offer comfort, but he stopped himself. Right. He typically preferred not to be touched when he was like this. “Luigi, my darling, what’s wrong?”

For a long moment, Luigi didn’t respond. And so Peasley waited, patient, ready to offer whatever words of comfort he needed.

“I can’t wear a dress,” Luigi finally said. It wasn’t a bashful excuse. It was a lament.

Confusion clouded Peasley’s rationale. Normally, he would drop the topic, see to Luigi’s well-being, and then ask questions when his beloved was in comfortable night clothes with a mug of hot chocolate in the privacy of their chambers. But that deadly mix of confusion and curiosity compelled him to squeeze his hand and ask, “Whyever not?”

At that, Luigi shook his head. “It’s so silly.” He cast a rueful smile to the side, but he did squeeze Peasley’s hand back, so that was progress, at least.

“‘Silly,’” Peasley said, scooting his chair in as far as it would go without crushing his midsection, “is Desi showing up drunk to Chori’s beanceañera on last night’s episode of The Mung and the Restless. What’s not silly is anything that causes you distress.”

Luigi laughed at that, quietly, but genuinely, and his eyes briefly met Peasley’s. They still sparkled, but with something new, something much more melancholy.

“It’s… it’s kind of a holdover, I guess.” He looked back down as he turned Peasley’s hand over, gloved thumb tracing aimlessly over his palm. “From my old world.”

“From Bruck-Len?” Peasley confirmed, watching Luigi’s thumb travel its idle path. “Did something happen there?”

Luigi set his lips into a thin line, and a short but not uncomfortable silence fell over them while he gathered the words he needed. “Nothing one-off, it was more… In Brooklyn, you couldn’t… guys really couldn’t wear those sorts of clothes, you know? If you do, you get made fun of, called names, roughed around, ‘cause you’re not, you know, not a real man.”

Peasley blinked, looking back up. Luigi didn’t meet his gaze.

The quality of one’s character based on the fabric they clad themselves in. The notion made little sense to Peasley.

“Well, what constitutes a ‘real man’?” he wondered aloud. Surely it wasn’t really something so inane as what clothes a man might wear. He, for example, was about as manly a man as they came — he was powerful, intelligent, skilled in combat, exceedingly good-looking — and yet he wore tunics while attending to political affairs or missions and Luigi’s oversized shirts at night, all dresses in all but name.

Yes, he knew well the typical fashion norms and how they differed between men, women, and those who lay in another plane of identity altogether, but never had he heard of such controversy in response to those norms being altered.

Luigi, his beautiful and equally manly Luigi, shrugged in response. “Someone more… rugged, I guess? Definitely not someone who wears a dress. And real simple clothes aren't enough either, oh no. Gotta be macho, hot-headed, tough, athletic, ready to throw down at the drop of a hat…”

“...perhaps with unkempt hair, lighter overalls, a red shirt, maybe?” Peasley guessed, half-joking. And to his delight, that got another laugh out of Luigi, a much lighter, heartfelt laugh. 

“Oh, no,” he said, “even Mario wasn’t man enough half the time!”

“Really? But he fits your description perfectly!”

“Yeah, but he had one liiiiiitle tiny problem: he supported me.” Luigi’s smile diminished again, not into a full frown, but his eyes seemed distant, wistful. “He was the only one I could really be comfortable around, you know? He hates shopping, but he’d always take me to the mall during sales because he knew I didn’t have the nerve to go without him. Sometimes he’d buy whatever I bought in his size and wear it out with me, and then he’d act like a goof so everyone stared at him and not me. Those were the only times I ever got to feel… well, good about wearing girly clothes.”

A feeling like warm nostalgia creeped into Peasley’s chest. Yes, he could picture it well: a shorter, smoother-faced Luigi, in the light fashions of city youth, perhaps a simple skirt and blouse. His matching elder twin, striding alongside him with twice the confidence and none of the elegance, going out of his way to make his gait as clumsy as possible with the biggest smile on his face.

Luigi smiling too, a younger and shyer smile, a boy becoming comfortable in his own skin, in the clothes he felt suited him best.

How could anyone envision such a sight, much less witness it for themselves, and not be besotted? How could anyone see that and mock him?

Peasley’s left hand moved to his opposite side, and he realized with a start that he was instinctively going for his rapier. But his rapier was back at the castle, and the threats which his beloved recounted were all in the past, unchallengeable, unchangeable. Something about that thought left a bitter taste in his throat.

“But I… still got the worst of it,” Luigi continued, and a heavy emotion like woe dimmed his features. “Mario, no one really cared what he did. He was a normal kid where I wasn’t involved. But me? No, I had enough going against me! You take a boy that likes other boys and wearing dresses, and you get…” He cleared his throat. “You get Mario getting grounded a lot. I think he’d beat up like, six different kids by the time we got out of high school?”

The bitterness in Peasley’s throat eased, and he washed the last of it away with a swig of his chuckoccino. He would have to give his gratitude to the elder brother next they met. He hoped little had remained of those vile perpetrators when he was done with them.

Luigi sighed heavily, leaning his cheek into his free hand. “Sooooo… yeah. Wearing dresses still scares me I guess. It shouldn’t, not anymore, I know that, but…”

But you’ve been scared your whole life, haven’t you?

An ache resonated deeply within Peasley, a hurt the likes he hadn’t felt since his favorite character’s untimely death in Days of Our Limas. 

“Oh, my love…” He finally gave in; he couldn’t help reaching forward to stroke Luigi’s face where his hand didn’t obscure it, and the ache lifted slightly when Luigi relaxed against his touch. His sad eyes grew warm, and Peasley could feel the blood rising beneath his skin. So warm, and so responsive… “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to bring up such distressing memories.”

Luigi lifted his head, just enough so that Peasley could cup his cheek. He graced Peasley with a smile so gentle and trusting and grateful that Peasley was sure he could drop dead on the spot from the crushing weight of affection alone.

“Honestly? It felt kinda nice to talk about it. Finally off my chest, you know?” Luigi’s right hand pressed Peasley’s palm deeper against his skin, and for a moment, he said nothing else. But his gaze caught some grounded nothing, and the corners of his mustache twitched, and was he blushing? Yes, he was absolutely blushing, a gorgeous scarlet growing in intensity against Peasley’s touch. “Kinda makes me feel like, uh... l-like it's... time to try again?” he finally found the nerve to say, quietly, but steadily.

Peasley, sagacious as he was, knew that this was his cue. Oh, his brave darling! He would gladly meet such bravery halfway.

“Then— then will you accompany me to that boutique across the street?” His eyes flickered briefly to their conjoined hands as he laced their fingers together once more, his right and Luigi’s left. This whole time, in one form or another, they’d remained connected. Truly like lock and key. “Will you choose a lovely gown and wear it for me, my dear?”

That luminescent shade of red burned hotter still, and as much as Peasley normally enjoyed such a sight, he considered backing down this time, truly considered it. But Luigi nodded, pulling Peasley’s hand towards himself. “As you wish,” he said, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Peasley could feel his lips curl into the smallest of grins. “Mio principe.”

~~~

It took a week, several trips to a handful of the kingdom’s finest shops, and many hours of compliments and sugary-sweet assurances, but by the time the Edamame Extravaganza rolled around and two very important guests arrived at the palace, Luigi stepped out to greet his brother clad in gentle slopes of deep green and gold, a simple but elegant gown that only served to make the handsome prince that much lovelier still.

Mario’s first reaction was shock, followed by what Peasley could best assign as glee. The words the twins exchanged in their native tongue flew by too quickly for him to catch anything of substance (he was, though he would never admit it, a bit slow in learning the language), but the gestures and laughter and the way Mario clapped as Luigi twirled to demonstrate the gown’s billowing skirt told him everything he needed to know: the elder sibling’s taste wasn’t as benighted as he’d feared it might be.

But most importantly, Luigi, his Luigi, was beaming. He was no towering monolith of self-confidence, but he held his head a little higher, and he walked with a sort of grace Peasley hadn’t seen from him before, and the golden embellishments of his attire looked comparatively dull next to the sheer joy that radiated from his countenance.

How much more brightly would he beam tonight, Peasley wondered, when he revealed he’d purchased every single gown Luigi had tried on during their venture, all thirty-seven of them? Surely he would outshine the sun itself.

“You’re going to send him to the hospital,” Peach sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as they stepped away to let the brothers chat. “If he was worried about how expensive a single dress is…”

“I already assured him I wouldn’t do anything I couldn’t afford.”

“I’m surprised you could afford that.”

Peasley tapped his temple in response. “Pragmatism, dear,” he teased. The humble Mushroom Queen was above using her title and benevolent reputation to obtain favors from her citizens. Peasley was not.

Peach shook her head and sighed again, but she couldn’t disguise the fond grin that found its way onto her face.

Turning to watch the brothers once more, Peasley followed suit.

Luigi was the rare sort who possessed no unflattering angles; he looked just as good in a gown as he did in overalls as he did in nothing at all. But he was most beautiful, Peasley decided, when he was unabashedly himself, when he lost sight of the eyes that followed him and simply let himself be, with no pretense  — in those rare instances, he could finally see himself the way Peasley saw him.

Showering him in fine clothing and helping him overcome an old emotional wound wouldn’t miraculously dissolve all of his insecurities. But if it helped even the slightest bit, then that was worth all the gold in the world.

[the-ghost-king]

Will and Annabeth talk similarly, which could mean nothing

[taraxippos]

I can't do faceclaims because my characters look like Just Guys and not like celebrities. It's extremely rare that I find any suitable matches that aren't like, a person seen in passing at a gas station or something. Finding voice claims is slightly easier but I run into the other logistical issue where I'm also just like, not aware of enough public figures/what they sound like for finding matches to be doable

[bunnydracula]

i dont wanna talk too much about the hateful little clique getting laughed at rn but so many of these people made it so frightening for me to leave my abuser in 2016 to the point that i had no choice but to delete my blog and you know what. that was an incredible thing in the long-run. it was horrifically cruel to rob me of my community for years because i had the audacity to stop entertaining abuse from a good-looking aesthete intellectual on the fandom website but now i get to come back, having had a pretty interesting life, and just laugh at these fuckers acting out the same shit over and over and over again. like, to feel how i am different and they are the same. my abuser is the same. their friends are the same. and it is incredible that they were ever scary to me at all. they’re just bigots having meltdowns over and over. i love it