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so Shire-talk is canonically a very different dialect of Westron than what Gondorians or Elves or whatever speak and some of the hobbits can code switch between the two and it’s extremely interesting to see how Tolkien portrays it
I’ve just gotten to the part where Frodo meets Faramir, and the difference between how he talks to Faramir and how he talks to Sam, for instance, is v noticable
with Sam he’s a lot more casual and even slightly more modern (for the value of 1954, not 2017) vs with Faramir where he switches to this very formal, quite archaic to our ears (“seven companions we had”)
and then Sam himself doesn’t seem comfortable speaking this prestige dialect (his style includes rather more general “vernacular” features common across regional nonliterary English dialects) – probably bc unlike Frodo he was not given the type of education that would lend itself to learning how to speak it comfortably – so there’s this clash between how Faramir talks to them and how Sam talks back
there’s also the bit where Theoden meets Merry and Pippin, and Merry greets him in very high formality, Pippin addresses Gimli casually bc they’re friends, then turns to Theoden and switches to the formal style, they both talk some more to him, and then after he’s gone Pippin turns to Merry and says Theoden was a “fine old fellow, very polite” (in the more casual style)
In that one scene you have a lot of style switching depending on the person they’re addressing and their status and relationship to the hobbits, but, for instance, Gimli’s sentence structure sounds more like the formal dialect even when he’s happily berating them and calling them villains, probably because he doesn’t use Shire-talk
@pinkpurlknitsnerdout, this is fascinating. I’ve never really thought to actively look for code-switching in literature, and while I’ve definitely noticed it in historical novels, I think all my experiences with high fantasy were before I even understood what code-switching was.
This is very interesting to me, as it’s something that I think I’ve always been very sensitive to in reading fiction. I suspect anyone born and educated in Scotland is predisposed to be so. Because the everyday language we speak in Scotland is so different to what we hear as soon as we start to listen to the radio and watch TV or as soon as we attend primary school (at around age 5), code-switching is something we start to learn very young and are further trained in the further we progress in education. I first encountered people – usually from southern England – who simply could not understand me if I just spoke naturally, the way I would at home, when I went to university at age 18, but of course by then I also knew how to speak. almost effortlessly, an English they could understand. Awareness of and sensitivity to code-switching is probably second nature to any speakers of strong regional dialects, not just Scots but likely Irish, Welsh, Geordies, etc too. For someone like Tolkien, however, it would definitely not be second nature or built into his upbringing and early education; rather he would have had to learn and develop it later on, deliberately.
(For anyone who’s interested, here’s an example of my hometown accent, or as near as makes no difference – the interviewees in that recording, but not the interviewer, who’s from a different part of Scotland. My natural accent is probably a wee bit “posher” than theirs, because my parents both came from wealthy, educated backgrounds and were schoolteachers, but at school and among my peers I quickly learned to broaden my accent a bit because it’s definitely not a good idea to sound “posh” or “well spoken” at a Scottish state school – heh, so again with the code-switching.)
To say Steve was anxious on his wedding night didn’t quite paint the right picture. It didn’t explain the overwhelming pressure to be a dutiful son, a dutiful Prince. The overwhelming responsibility to be a good match, to bring prosperity and safety to his lands. They’d promised him to Prince James if he was an Omega, as the Princeling was an Alpha. There was another deal with another family if he was an Alpha, but… here they were. This union, this chance of providing military power to their small country was a unique chance, and Steve wasn’t going to fuck it up.
“Captain Rogers? This is Dr. Harvey, from SHIELD. We ran your tests overnight, and got the results back. We’ve confirmed that you’re pregnant. We’ll need you to come in sometime soon so we can do a few health checks, and make sure you’re not at any risk. It’s still early days- you should be about 6 weeks along. If you like, you can come in this Friday at 10, and we’ll go over everything?”
Steve listens in silence, and stares dead ahead. He chews his lip. There’s something like excitement, and something like anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. As well as a baby. Oh god.
In the eyes of God, Steve Rogers was dead. He was still breathing, still walking around, but he was dead.
This fic is my attempt at a functioning A/B/O universe, since most stories with this premise leave me wondering how the society could have developed to modernity with all the issues raised by heats/bonding/male pregnancy. Steve Rogers is learning to cope without his bond-mate in the 21st century, and deal with the new threats the century throws at him.
GOSH I LOVE GETTING QUESTIONS LIKE THIS BLESS YOU.
I think in the particular case of the Howling Commandos this question would have an awful lot to do with what exactly their duties were, where their missions took them, and for how long. We don’t really get much of a sense of it in The First Avenger, and honestly I think you can do this in a lot of different ways and sort of lean in whatever direction is convenient for the plot. (I’m working on a Howlies-era story now and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Need privacy for a threesome? Oh how convenient you’re holed up in a perfectly suitable location for ~*~mission related reasons!~*~) I’d think it would be fairly situational depending on things like exactly how filthy they are (like if they remain unwashed is it going to compromise their ability to do their job or impact them physically like with hypothermia? Are they going to be unable to sneak up on the enemy because they are way too fucking rank and they crinkle when they walk? Is Sgt. Barnes going to get into a fight with anybody else in the unit because they’re all sick of him complaining about how bad his hair looks?), how far from a base they are, that sort of thing.
In the field, I’d imagine they’d do whatever worked. Bear in mind that a lot of the fighting in WWII was ranging through populated or recently-populated areas; depending on where they were, it might not be too difficult to find a well, a rainwater barrel, a pump for a livestock trough, or some other handy water access that might allow a fella to clean up some. And there are plenty of actual houses and whatnot with actual bathtubs, I’d imagine, though hanging around an area with townsfolk or other unknown quantities around might not be worth the risk of getting shot. But they could also just as easily be moving through an area where everything’s been bombed to shit, every splash of water in a 10-mile radius is choked with waste and decomposition, and even if it’s been raining for a week the word “clean” is no longer their vocabulary.
For regular soldiers, they’d be occasionally rotated back to camp where they’d be able to get in a wash, a delousing, some square meals, maybe some R&R, before they had to head back to the front. Once they were out there, availability of any kind of personal grooming would’ve depended a lot on whether having a wash would get you shot. A lot of times they’d be washing just out of a bowl or helmet, or not at all if the available water was all needed for drinking. Shaving was more or less mandatory (considered part of the uniform, basically), but when you’re in the field awhile it all depends on what you have the time and resources to do. And the Commandos aren’t a regular unit, anyway. I’d guess their war experience was unconventional to say the least.
In camp, things would be a bit easier. Laundry would be handled by the Quartermaster Corps (these are also the supply folks who’d be handling whatever other stuff you needed issued, they basically keep the armed forces fed, clothed, and supplied; they handle logistical concerns of all kinds). They’d have a trailer with the necessary equipment, which is interestingly enough how these units still operate today, just a lot fancier. This page about the Quartermaster service has some super interesting information on these laundry units operating in WWII in Europe and through other US military conflicts. If the clothing was really destroyed, it’d probably be replaced, though it’s hard to imagine the Howlies allowing that since most of them had decidedly non-regulation uniforms. (Plz write me a story about Sgt. Barnes and how fussy he is over his sweet blue coat and what he keeps tucked carefully in the inside pockets and whether his button-sewing skills are the best in the unit and that time in Poland when he somehow sweet-talked a grandmother into helping him wash his coat because he loves it tooooo much. Bonus points if the grandmother gives him amazing tips on how to get blood stains out and they somehow bond despite the fact that Barnes doesn’t speak a word of Polish.)
This page has some recollections you might find informative (I like in the comments where he complains about his “nice Yankee shirt” being cut off him because it was soaked in blood), and you might find the entire WW2 People’s War archive interesting; it’s all first-hand accounts of people’s experiences during wartime, whether they were on the home front or elsewhere. (There are 47,000 personal accounts on there, holy shittttt.) You might be particularly interested in this story about a group of soldiers rigging up a huge horse water trough into a communal bathtub for a nice hot scrubbing. 😀
As you might imagine, sanitation is a pretty big deal in the field, and just like all militaries struggled to keep their soldiers from taking themselves out of the fight with things like venereal disease, they also wanted to prevent other hygiene-related problems that would impact troop readiness. We’d think of stuff like foot fungus or lice as a fairly minor but totally gross issue; in that period, in the war, if your troops had lice you were going to have a problem with typhus, and that’ll straight-up kill them. This link has a whole book chapter about the sort of procedures and training the Army had in place for troop hygiene, both the intro to personal sanitation that they’d receive in boot camp (they’d be shown “Mickey Mouse movies” I wonder if they literally had Mickey Mouse in them) and the ongoing drumming in of the message as they were shipped out to different theaters in the war.
Personally I like to imagine a Bucky who was once fastidious and tremendously well-groomed and has left all that behind because if war has changed anybody it has definitely changed him, only one day he loses his goddamned mind and they’re going to cross this nice slow-moving river and it’s kind of turning into a warm, bewilderingly beautiful day, and Barnes just puts his gun down and kicks off his boots and everybody’s like “oh shit Sarge has lost it” and he just walks into the river fully clothed and everybody’s like “Hey Barnes what’re you doing?” and he’s just like “My laundry. Fuck off.”
And he just like crouches down in the river so his nose is above water and he just stays there because he stinks and he’s incredibly tired of it, okay.
And maybe Captain America himself puts down his shield and his gun belt and wades in to drag his damn fool sergeant out of the river because what the hell, Buck, this area isn’t exactly cleared, there could be snipers, you idiot. And maybe Sgt. Barnes does or does not dunk the symbol of American freedom and give him a noogie.
I couldn’t resist sulky Bucky and his Studebaker & bearded Steve with Disguise Glasses, being a good and solid leaning post for a very hungover Natasha
(You can read this without the visual aids on AO3.
March 10, 1917 – James Buchanan Barnes is born, and we were all officially fucked.
July 4, 1918 – Steven Grant Rogers is born, and somewhere in Brooklyn Bucky’s mother wept …
June, 1924 – Steve’s mother is bedridden from illness associated with Tuberculosis.
September, 1930 – 12-year old Steve and 13-year old Bucky meet for the first time in Hell’s Kitchen, where Bucky scares off bullies trying to steal Steve’s money. What were they doing in Hell’s Kitchen? No one knows. Steve tells Bucky he’s been living in the orphanage ‘on 8th’ since his mother’s death. Which is odd since Bucky was apparently at her funeral when they’re both legal adults in a flashback scene from the Winter Soldier. For the purpose of this timeline, info from the movies will take precedent over info from the various tie-ins. Meaning Sarah Rogers is basically Schrodinger’s Ma for the next 6 years.
1936 – Shrodinger’s Ma finally actually dies fo sho of Tuberculosis. Bucky breaks everyone and their mother’s heart with his ‘til the end of the line’ line.
I came here to add this bit that I just stumbled over and found that this post had like 500 more notes than I was expecting…..hi? I’ve added more info to the AO3 version of this, if you’re interested in this kind of stuff.
I saw this cover go past on my dash, it’s from Captain America No. 33, 1943, and recognized the name on the sign.
Brenner Pass was the pass through the Alps that was the focus of Operation Cold Comfort. I just thought that was interesting
HELLS KITCHEN MOVIE CLUB #6: BAD BOYS 2! Legit one of my favourite movies. Art by @felipesobreiro!
As always we are unable legally to make money off these strips, but please consider chucking a few dollars at the nice folks at Stop Soldier Suicide instead.
Also, I have a prose novel that’s crowdfunding at the moment and you like action and murder and cliffhangers and knights, hello, maybe you might like The Scottish Boy.