30, She/her. Used to be DreamingPagan a long time back. Multi-fandom, mostly Black Sails these days but with a lot of Tolkien and funny things interspersed. Complete language and history nerd - be warned. I write fic and occasionally I talk about ships.
((Just as a small change of pace, we plan on doing other characters too!))
-Enjoys/collects music and has a hard time falling asleep without it playing in the background.
-Cries when he laughs too hard.
-Jessamine’s death isn’t the only one that weighs on him.
-Planned on killing Corvo along with the Empress, but, in his own shock, turned and left after he killed Jessamine.
-Claims he loves Overseers because “No matter what you do to them, you don’t feel bad.”
-Banters with Thomas as a passtime.
-Genuinely likes kids, and loves Billie and Thomas as his own.
-Was heartbroken by Billie’s betrayal, and by having to cut Thomas out of his life after his fight with Corvo.
-Misses old Rudshore. The docks and sun reminded him of Karnaca.
-Changes the story behind his scar everytime someone asks. They range from badass to embarrassing.
-His Serkonan accent will slip through a bit when tired.
-Was sentenced to death by Overseers for owning a bonecharm when he was barely fifteen years old. Would’ve died if he hadn’t been marked.
-Walks with a slight limp, but won’t acknowledge it because that would mean he had to admit he’s getting old.
-Demiromantic.
-The Outsider told him that “Not everyone deserves the life they live”, and in hindsight, he took that phrase too literally.
-Often wonders what his life would be like if he never had listened to The Outsider. Maybe he’d own a bar in Karnaca. A real fatherhood sounds nice. His kids would take over the business after he retired. Would he be married? Kids were easy to imagine, but a partner never was.
It’s a minor pet peeve, but it is everywhere today so errrr…. please keep in mind that “Rest in Peace”/RIP literally comes from a latin phrase and is a very very deeply Christian expression.
When talking about the departed, Jews say “may their memory be a blessing.”
So please, when talking about a dead person who is Jewish, try to keep in mind that RIP is a Christian phrase.
I learned something today, so I’ll pass it on so someone else can learn too
one of my favorite lotr facts is that gondorians speak sindarin as a first language and yet when faramir was talking to frodo and sam about cirith ungol he was like “we don’t know what’s in there.” like faramir. cirith ungol is sindarin for “pass of the spider.” do the math
some of my favorite tags on this post
Don’t forget that Frodo also speaks Sindarin, which makes this even worse.
Faramir: Hey, don’t go up the Spider Stairs.
Frodo: Why? What’s up the Spider Stairs?
Faramir: We don’t know, Frodo. We just don’t know.
to be fair, you’d assume the name means “there’s a lot of spiders here,” not, “there is one spider the size of a draft horse here.” so you go up expecting to have to shoo a lot of skeeter eaters out of your tent, and instead you have to figure out how to rope and shoe godzillarantula.
I’ve been on a Discworld re-read for about a year now, and it just struck me how Pterry gets progressively angrier and less subtle about it throughout the series.
Like, we start out nice and easy with Rincewind who’s on some wacky adventures and ha ha ha oh golly that Twoflower sure is silly and the Luggage is epic, where can I get one. Meanwhile Rincewind just wants to live out his boring days as a boring Librarian but is dragged along against his will by an annoying little tourist guy and honestly? Fuck this.
We get the first view of Sam Vimes, and he’s just a drunken beaten down sod who wants to spend his last days as a copper in some dive but oh fuck now he has to fight a dragon and honestly? Fuck this.
The first time we see Granny Weatherwax, she’s just a cranky old woman who has never set foot outside her village but oh fuck now she has to guide this weird girl who should be a witch but is apparently a wizard all the way down to Ankh Morpork and honestly? Fuck this.
Like, these books deal with grumpy, cranky people. But mostly, the early books are a lot of fun. Sure, they have messages about good and evil and the weirdness of the world, and they’re good messages too, but mostly they are just wacky romps through a world that’s just different enough that we can have a good laugh about it without taking things too much to heart.
But then you get to Small Gods, in which organized religion is eviscerated so thorouhgly that if it was human, even the Quisition would say it’s gone a bit too far while at the same time not condemning people having faith which is kind of an important distinction.
You get to Men at Arms and I encourage everybody with an opinion on the Second Amendment to read that one.
You get to Jingo, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal (featuring an evil CEO who is squeezing his own company dry to get to every last penny, not caring one lick about his product or his workers or his customers or anything else and who, coincidentally, works out of Tump Tower. I’m not making this up).
And just when you think, whew, this is getting a bit much but hey, look, he wrote YA as well! And it’s about this cute little girl who wants to be a witch and has help from a lot of rowdy blue little men, this will be fun! A bit of a break from all the anger!
Wrong.
The Tiffany Aching books are the angriest of all. But you know what the great thing is?
The great thing is that Pterry’s anger is the kind of fury that makes you want to get up and do something about it. It upsets you, sure. But it also says It’s up to you to change all of this. And you can change all of this, and even if you can’t. Do it anyway. Because magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten.
It’s the kind of anger that gives you purpose, and it gives you hope. And that concludes my essay about why the Discworld series is so gloriously cathartic to read when it seems like all the world is going to shit.
So go. Read them, get angry and then get up and fight. Fight for truth. Justice. Freedom. Reasonably priced love and, most importantly, a hard-boiled egg.
Meg's Mumbles 