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#he was written by a woman
m4rs-ex3 · 9 months
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dude you've known her for a week
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DUDE YOUVE KNOWN HER FOR LIKE AN HOUR
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facesblurry · 1 month
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he is so incredibly hot oh brother. the only thing i miss about sira is the ferran boyfriend content she would share with us. Bro is a greek god
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marshallmallows · 1 year
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this is the first time i’ve chosen colt instead of mona to pick me up after the fight in chapter 11 and OH MY GOD i would’ve folded right then and there
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ken-wakui · 1 year
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IM SURE ABOUT IR DON'T SAY THAT 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺🥺😰😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰🥺😰HE WOULD LOVE ME OK😰😰😰😭😰😭😰😭😰😭😰😭
🎙️*taps mic* SANZU IS A BAD BF!!!
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spider-xan · 9 months
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Regarding Mina's description of Dracula and why it's problematic, a good starting point would be to read the Wikipedia article for physiognomy, which is the outdated pseudoscience of face reading that is unfortunately rooted in racism, antisemitism, ableism, etc., and was very popular during the Victorian era as a way to judge moral character based on facial features.
So when Mina says 'His face was not a good face', she is not just saying that Dracula is ugly (though concepts of ugliness and beauty are not value-neutral either), but that she can tell that he is evil based on his facial features; note that one of the facial features she singles out is a 'beaky nose', which comes from Cesare Lombroso's idea that among other traits, hawk-like noses are a marker of criminality on the basis of criminals being evolutionary throwbacks who are less evolved than non-criminals; many of these allegedly 'criminal' and 'degenerate' facial features are obviously racialized and not associated with Gentile whiteness, but in opposition to it.
Stoker was definitely interested in physiognomy and uses it as a narrative device to show how certain heroic characters are intelligent, perceptive, and educated on the latest (pseudo)sciences (the modernity theme again) - namely Mina and Van Helsing, but also Jonathan to a lesser degree; we will definitely see this idea come up several more times, including explicit references to Lombroso himself.
It is also important to remember that linking physical appearance and morality still happens today - think about how many people say they can tell someone is a bad person bc they're ugly or that 'People get the face they deserve' where good people age gracefully and bad people age poorly, even though aging has nothing to do with personal character.
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ophelian-darling · 1 month
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𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠.
Yandere Suguru Geto x Female reader.
Summary : Blessings form in different shapes and bright in different colors; Love being the fairest and liveliest one.
TW : Obsession, minor character death, discrimination, pregnancy, manipulation.
enjoy ♡
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It is divine to think how hell would be regarded into grotesquely crimson images within the human imagination: Sufferance is too common, wounds as a thorn prick and lasts as a heart's ache, Yet consider this when we think of heaven: purity- innocence of Eden in its prime, everything that sources its beauty and continence from a glass sphere no soul ever stepped on, farthest from the nearest paradise which we -so far- know of. Every now and then, the glass sphere's page of the sky would rain glossy drops, bright in the charm of a moon's haze, kissing earth's soil ever so gently after a long fall through the dark space. The drop; a seed of everything that derives all good in this life, either blooms into flowers, little joys that are worth living for, or even people- lost angels on devil's land. 
Suguru believes he has an eye for perfection: the images of others reflect on his irises and pass, be a fragment of a forgotten dream and ghost in a corner within his anamnesis. life ought to be lived as a sort of a sweven, destined to be erased once the reaper sinks in its teeth; Not like you have much of an option as a sorcerer, you just keep fantasizing and drawing rose-colored glasses about a life you know you can't have, sighing when conjuring a dear friend's lineaments, feeling a warmth under an eyelid when a beloved's smile flickers through a faint image of cogitation. a needle of duty had sewed up every passage to his heart; there was no horizon to look up to, except that one of exorcising curses to no end, saving that little part of happiness that was rightfully his to others who already had a fair share of it.
Suguru would burn the candles of thought and wander around a series of scenarios: what would it be like to love? What color is romance and what taste are kisses? There must be a reason why the moon was put on a pedestal of artistry, or a color of blood to abridge all tongues and words of ardor. There had to be a reason why someone was so eager and willing to hand their hearts on a platter to someone else, someone who was looked upon as the apple of eye. It seemed absurd: humans are merely products of vice, planted to sin and harvested to destroy, every letter and word they utter weighs nothing heavier than a lie, So why would such a morbid creature empty the jar of heart on another morbid creature? It is a wounding, shameless lie.
Cease to feel and halt to sense, there was no meaning in draining the amphora of emotion on someone, a one who can't taste curses to know how much of a grace it's devouring. it's pointless to break the glass of heart over a bod that ignores your agony to indulge in its little world of pink lies. He just wishes- Only if, if he slices that part of him that screamed of humanity everyday, the part that made him extend a wing to shield the helpless from their demise… He hated having a heart. 
Once during a green summer, one that had a breeze of May and the pink warmth of Valentine's day, The sphere wrapped a blessing in a curse's fabric; a gift so pristine it competed with the glimpses of eternity with a smile and tore the horizon's edge with a kiss, a form of life that its existence on this cursed land was the vilest injustice ever committed towards its chastity. The Angel; now blossoming from the sphere's seed into a human with flesh and blood, nerves and bones, eyes and a beating heart, is left to be stained and tarnished, munched and swallowed by the imperfect- the bad seeds, the swirl of everything evil. a tear of a curse could lace a sea of blessings, and you had to be protected: from the serpents, the devils, the flawed, or anyone else that wasn't him.
"Y'know, Suguru, sometimes when I look through your eyes, I can see you fighting yourself, as if you were your own worst enemy" You started the conversation like this, so casually, with no hint or intention of digging too deep into his psyche.
July, casting blazing rays and nearly melting the shadows outside, while the pair of you decided to remain in class for no obvious purpose. Suguru didn't mind having you around, aware that you weren't going to engage in tittle-tattling, leaving him with the room to think. It's been a long year. 
With a strike of sudden concern, and maybe a little suspicion, He directs his whole posture towards you, noticing your relaxed position on the seat beside his. a silence of something that was about to begin stretched before he asked "What do you mean?" 
a Winter night smile drew itself on your lips. In a movement of Bonnie Parker leaning on her motorcycle, you faced his confused comportment, rolling your eyes playfully before replying "You thought that no one would notice? That's cute. but I must admit, you're so good at hiding it, even Satoru wasn't able to see it, I'm surprised!" something brightened in your expression, contradicting the words you just said. As if you were Suguru's Anima; you spoke so confidently, insisting on extracting a part you didn't like of him.
And that confidence stirred a certain sentiment within him. something he would see as… vulnerability?
He stared. 
Another silence, silence of an absurd play, one that the audience certainly didn't need to absorb the scene. 
You continued "Amanai was a human like any other, someone with dreams and hopes, fears and triggers, and a family- and a lot of friends. she lived her life to the fullest… Well, maybe not completely, but at least she had some taste of blessing before her death. people aspire to horizons, living enough to reach it and sometimes not, savoring both sweet and bitter times before kicking the bucket. But that's not what we're talking about here" 
His eyes couldn't get any wider, the images played slowly and vividly while the cassette of that memory didn't seem to stop.
"She's a vessel that can be replaced. Lord Tengen wasn't in that need for her anyway. But are we sorcerers any better? no. we're replaceable as well, unless you are Satoru, which we aren't. Yes, we are strong, but still replaceable. The Jujutsu world needs to continue existing or else cursed spirits will blow everything to bits, and of course, we're the only ones who can keep it going and exorcise these creatures." 
Your fingers twiddled with your necklace, rolling it slowly as your tongue flowed. "I wanted to go everywhere too, I wanted to have a lot of friends to love without worrying that they'll die at any second. I wanted to wander around and behold flowers and snow without seeing an ugly cursed spirit…" 
His tongue wouldn't unwrap, au contraire to his thoughts. his mind moved as fast as forgetfulness would spell, drinking in all of your heart's tears. Perhaps, after all, he wasn't the only one who awakened to a harsh knowledge. 
You, are special.
"It's not fair… why should I be the one who gives up on their happiness to save people who know nothing of my sacrifices…" 
"I-.." your rant comes to a halt, a veil of guilt slides down your expression. 
"Sorry… I didn't mean to remind you of… back then, I talked too mu-" 
"No." He interrupts, his usual resting face painted over. 
"You can continue, I understand you…" Suguru smiles.
Ever since the curtain on your heart was pulled, you seemed to confide in him more; drifting away from Satoru and Shoko slowly and subtly. He didn't want to think of it, yet these pages of poems and lines of serenades whispered something to him everytime he looked through you. She must be unhappy too, Unhappy people are sensitive to the unhappiness of others¹. and to confess, it balmed a little comfort on his soul to see that misery brought you together. Day by day, both of you would speak for hours, crafting an imaginary horizon where everything was a haven for a winsome world, goodwills falling like spring rain. Night by night, He who becomes the one to count the nights, scripting his nightdreams and rehearsing his hopes to a shadow of you that lingered in the corners, only for every word to blend into space once the daybreak spills through the clouds. 
Your voice; it is the voice of his mind now. The shadow of you is melodizing his thoughts and troubles of the heart, lulling his reveries and caroling his visions. The pages of romance flip like petals in the wind: as the silk of your vocal cords tailors the letters with red and pink, he is finally allowed to relish the true colors of so-called love. Yozo² is no longer fool in Suguru's thinking, for wanting to die alongside the one he loved, which Suguru Geto himself now, secretly, hopes to achieve with you.
"Have you ever thought about death?" Green-colored smile, surely wasn't grayed by anything. Suguru just thought, what did you think? Did you want to be with him no matter the place? 
The roles have been reversed. now you're the silent one; you were sure that you did talk too much that day, pouring your wounds into him that now they're his wounds. Guilt stinged your heart, only if you remained silent back then. 
"Um- yes, I'm already accepting it, we're sorcerers after all…" you struggled to compose a thought he'd like, it came out as what a child attempting wisdom would say. speaking to your friend has become a difficult task lately, you didn't want to lose the thread of thinking you shared together, and he seemed quite pleased to talk to you. 
He chuckled. 
"Never thought of making it better for yourself at least?" 
What…
"I used to think so too. But slowly, I'm finally able to see what I was too blinded to see. Remember when you said that you wanted to have a lot of friends and go everywhere? that's rightful of you to ask- but you can't get it whether you plead for it or not. I'm telling you; I know it very well when I say you can have everything you want if you step up and take control." stated he.
As if looking for any other person who seems to notice that there's something odd, you glanced around. nothing was in sight except the trees and grass of the long forest line. 
His face didn't move when he continued "You see, we forgot that we were stronger, smarter and more skilled than the ordinary, say evolution theory: creatures go through a long process of development to become advanced in brain and muscle. some reach the highest stage of development and become a human, while others simply stop in the middle or never start, thus remaining monkeys" 
For some reason, you imagined yourself operating on his brain: cleaving the front of his skull with a sharp scalpel, lifting up his scalp in a way a box of chocolates would be opened, unwrapping and milling his brain convolutions, looking through his memory and mind's eye to see when and where these ideas have crossed his mind so you can uproot them- it is your fault, you filled him with so much tangles for a sweetly simple soul as him.
"...And since monkeys can't survive on their own, we were the ones who would acquire and use their talents to establish Jujutsu and save them, doing it out of kindness and altruism, they give us curses and we cure them in response, continually and with no recognition of our merit…"  
Something in his eyes twitched; he sounded as if he was letting go of an ancient burden, the Messiah's cross thrown off by his back.
"... You, me, Satoru or anyone who uses Jujutsu is the purest form of life on this earth, we're destined to rule as much as we were to protect, to punish as we were to love. we sorcerers are chosen by the heavens…" 
"...Monkeys must die." the corners of his mouth were altered to a frantic excitement, seeming like he'd seen after years of being dim sighted.
It is a blessing to be ignorant. 
It started out subtly. Suguru would continue smiling- the line and twist on his face metamorphosed into one you have no knowledge of: it was strange, uncannily simple and eerily sweet, more of looking at a portrait of a goner and less of seeing a friend. His compassion faded, a mock-lively kindness replaced it, by the nature a moonlight would mimic a sunray's warmth. it is not change, nor epiphany; your friend was dying with no hearse set or heart settled- Suguru slept to no awakening so the priest in Gojo-gesa can breathe to every aspect of life. 
Eyes that used to behold the blessings in everything are now glaring with violence, gnashing its teeth to whoever and whatever didn't wield any cursed energy. it is visible for you to only see, all of the ink and blood jarred behind his eyes, masked perfectly and contained in a patient smile he wore to his subjects— our subjects darling! he would say, giving you a saddened look, as if his gift of a thousand obedient monkey wasn't enough to thrill you as much as it did to him.
“You know how much I love you, right?” he murmured, holding your hand. your eyes pierced the reflection on the vanity glass: a husband and a wife sharing an intimate moment, scenery of a devoted Genji holding a torn Fujitsubo³ and kissing away all of her distress. you switched your sight towards his hand, the one that stroked yours, the one that had on its ring finger a silver band twirled.
“And I'm willing to offer you everything I have, anything you want” He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, billing and cooing in his words “I just ask for a little smile in return, or a little ‘thank you’ for everything I do to us”
“You're taking advantage of innocent people, Suguru”
He scoffs “Are they really that innocent?! All they do is cause destruction and corruption. you're too kind to even call them people” the last word dropped like a glob of mercury, heavy and tarnishing. he's annoyed for sure that you ruined the romantic mood by mentioning monkeys yet again. 
“You're murdering people who came to you for help, Suguru…”
You saw it without looking at it, the flash of rage and loathing, with all its redness and heat a fire had less or more of. you hoped in despair ,maybe there's still the lingering blush of compassion in his heart; the comity of your dear friend Suguru, not the hatred of your husband the monk. His fist flew in front of your face, grabbing your chin and rotating your skull to his penetrating eyes. for a second, a thread was pulled in your chest, cutting your heart with a feeling of fear, was he about to strike you?
“I told you thousands of times… those you cry for so much are. not. people. Do you understand me?!” He pressed on each word, heavy breath fanning your face. you could only look back and try not to recoil under his gaze.
“They ruin our lives, they kill us, they cause suffering and they taint this earth with their filthy emotions… if it wasn't me who gets rid of them and cleans their trash, only heaven knew how much time left for us to live…” he digs his nails into your flesh, gritting his teeth at you “They made you unhappy, they tried to kill me while I was risking my life to save them everyday!” he raised his hands in the air, snarling with full volume. you're sure that Nanako and Mimiko are in another room hearing, and utterly aware of their agreement and devotion to Suguru. 
Frantically, he unwrapped his Gojo-gesa and threw it on the floor, shooting you a glare while he freed himself from the sleeves of his haori. his stare kept lining yours, and when he stripped from the white hada-juban, you've seen it, as if at first sight.
“Shouldn't a wife support her husband?! Why do I feel like everything else except for me matters to you?!” He yelled. it is not the first time you see the scar on his chest, in fact, you've seen it too many times that its lines were as familiar as the dimness of your eyelids. 
“Whom am I doing this all for?! for us! for our family! they're just like us, they've been belittled and cursed by monkeys and they had their happiness snatched brutally from their hands… all just because they were sorcerers” he calmed, yet not eased judging by how sharp his expression was. He dropped his arms to his side, reaching to cup your face and force you to see his eyes “You were hurt too… you begged me to save you years ago… you do remember the day we sat together in class and talked”
You do remember. 
The echo of that hour reverberated through his eyes. in their dark shade, you watched a reflection of yourself, helpless and gray, sew the first threads of his insanity. you wished if life had been a little more cruel and tore off your tongue before you ever got the chance to speak with him.
It's you who chiseled the priest.
He feathered a finger across your cheek, crooning honey “And you remember our dates too, all the kisses and embraces, our wedding and our nights together…” serene as a sea in spring, animating the past into a sweet lull. his eyes smiled to you, cording your heart when continuing “You love me, you love our family, our paradise— and him” His palm spidered to your stomach, stroking the node of flesh “You would never abandon him, would you?”
Can you even? He sojourned far in, tethered to you through a wall of flesh with a string stretching inside of him. the memory of his existence would carve lines in both of your bodies even after his birth.
“You're so selfless, that's why I fell for you darling” whispered he, drinking your silence in taste of obedience. Was there any release from the cuffs you wrapped around your own wrists? Suguru wasn't an imprisoner, he just smelted a bracelet you wished to wear, eager to please and in hunger for your praise, while you, in words and smiles, altered his brain to see in dark color.
“Why don't you say you love me?”  he coated demand with love, pouring foam on your ears in a whisper.
Your skin felt light underneath, like you could walk out of it as a coat. In times like these, when he gave affection and demanded it back, you could only say one thing, unlike a full colored prism of flirtation he can murmur to you.
“I love you so much, Suguru…” at first, saying it was like uprooting a rotting tooth, but as time passed and your tongue knew the taste of lying, it became like picking a fruit.
He smiled “Good girl…” 
His eyes glinted in red “...I love you too…”
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rosefires20 · 1 day
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My brainrot today is thinking about just how incredible for a character Eowyn is.
Genuinely. The series might not have many female characters but the ones we do get go so fucking hard.
To me, Eowyn is literally the definition of defining being a woman for oneself. She rejects the roles she is given despite acknlowdging the importance and its mostly because she knows part of the reason is that she is a woman.
The reason why she is obsessed with Aragorn isn't because she loves him but because she wants what he has. She wants the freedom and courage and bravery that Aragorn has at every turn. She literally has multiple conversations during the Two Towers about how what she fears most is a cage. All this girl wants is the freedom to be and not be forced into a role. The best thing is that she literally gets that.
The segment of Return of the King about Eowyn and Faramir is literally about her piecing together what she truly wants. She doesn't want Aragorn. She wants freedom and the ability to choose. Faramir does nothing but encourage that in her. Their love story is literally one of the healthiest love stories I've seen in a long time because at the heart of it, their love is a place to return home to for both parties. Both go off to lead and help their people for a considerable amount of time before returning to each other but that does not diminish their bond. Even Faramir, I believe, falls in love with her bravery and dedication to her loved ones. The reason she went to Pelenor Fields and Gondor with the troops of Rohan was because she had things she wanted to fight for. She wanted to fight for herself, her people, and her loved ones. She is the one who protects Theoden after he is killed so that his body gets the treatment it deserves. She encourages Merry and helps him go to the battle because she sees her struggle in Merry. They feel helpless standing around when there are things to be doing.
Let's also not forget the fact that she was around Grima Wormtounge just as much as the King was. She was exposed to the same poison and awful words that eroded the king. It's even implied that her care for him is part of the reason why Theoden was savable when Gandalf showed up. She had the same power and bravery as everyone else even if she didn't see it in herself.
Then at the end of the day, SHE decides where she wants to go and what path she wants to walk. She walked the path of a warrior. The path of a princess/ruler. The path of a caretaker. But in the end she decides which elements truly mean something to her outside of gender definitions. That is what makes her character so incredible to me. In this she literally kills one of the biggest enemies in that battle with such a badass line.
#i could talk for ages about how i see the struggle of defining being a woman for oneself in her#she rejects the feminine roles given to her but she also doesnt quite want the masculine ones#she just wants the freedom to choose and have the same respect that men are given#she doesnt want to be belitted because she is a woman#thats literally what Faramir gives her and why she stays with him#Faramir loves her for her not anything else#he respects her as she does him#i am someone who is a woman but rejects the definitons of being a woman because they are toxic and caging#all i want is the freedom and respect of being a HUMAN being#i lend more masculine because that is where that freedom is more often but i also see how toxic that relam is too#niether side is good which is why i choose my own path and defintiom#the fact that eowyn gets such a similar story in a series written by a man in the mid 1900s is incredible#i am someone who would love to have more female characters but i do not want them at the expense of them being proper characters and humans#ive read a lot of fantasy women do not always get the agency they deserve#i would rather take fewer well written women then a bunch of poorly written female characters#lotr has that#eowyn arwen and galadriel are all given agency and the space to be their own individuals which makes them incredible characters#thats what i want out of books and ficition#god im making myself insane about my own thoughts lol#i could talk for ages im not kidding#eowyn#eowyn of rohan#lotr#lotr rambling#lord of the rings#the two towers#the return of the king
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treasureplcnet · 7 months
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also quite obsessed with karl being as detached from the story as he is. there's nothing that makes him have to be the detective that has to be involved, but he unknowingly dooms himself by agreeing to work with the KYAL cult. every other detective basically deals with elias head on except weissman, who only meets him right before he kills him. like he's right when he says "by my choices" because everything that leads him to being mixed up with the mannix cult is himself. it's the gambling debts and the choice to do the dirty work for an organisation he knows nothing about. he's the only one that doesn't encounter that body doing police work and it's specifically because he's told to cover it up. he gets himself into the mess and eventually fixes it but the fact that esther always dies in the doomed timelines and he's always too late even if he starts wanting to change things ("till this child. esther.") it just makes me very ill
#sorry jane who heard this on her dms but now im posting it to tumblr cause im having a category 5 woman moment. AND ALTERNATIVELY:#i am also EXTREMELY obsessed with how its a time loop and the idea (so sorry tumblr user whose post i have lost and was inspired by)#weissman was just so fucking hard to deal with that they made sure that he was in their pockets. i just like the idea of the loop--#--having like. fixed points that elias would need to ensure the dystopia (body is covered up/the investigation closes/etc) but#how they get there is a slightly slower process and the earliest loops were the messiest/most unpredictable#and what we see in the show itself is like. the most streamlined version over hundreds of loops and attempts#so karl specifically. lonely that he is and determined to survive. AND with a cruel streak against people he doesn't like#kept nearly blowing their operation so they began to incorporate him in it instead#there's also another tragedy in there if /esther/ is what they realise works best against him..#just love and kindness for a girl that weissman comes to see as family and they immediately exploit it after learning during an early loop#im ignoring specific plot points here (polly seemingly panicking when esther shows up at the station) but I DO NOT CARE.#THERE'S ANGST HAPPENING RN. IM CREATING SCENARIOS TO HURT ME#now if i could write coherently this would be written as a fic but im stuck writing too long textposts#karl weissman#bodies 2023#bodies netflix#sorry to the other detectives. weissman in particular is my babygirl who i devote most of my brainpower to#personal
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see-arcane · 2 years
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Mina mocking the New Woman like
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oddinary4bts · 5 months
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Went on a date last night, the guy danced 3D for me and then proceeded to tell me Jungkook is his BTS bias
Should I marry him?
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ffc1cb · 1 year
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i’ve always found it peculiar how during meeting the chargers cutscene the game just assumes your character automatically understands what krem is talking about when he mentions binding (though, granted, it’s all very unsubtle). like, this is a roleplaying game. what if i want to play a character who just doesn’t get it
#dragon age#cremisius aclassi#inquisitor trevelyan#at least give me an in game explanation of why the inquisitor would Know this right away#it's not like transgenderism is a widely explored topic in da lore. the most you can find about it in inquisition specifically excluding#krem and seras countless transmisogynistic lines is one codex that mentions that some previous divine mightve been a trans woman#and the way it's written sucks ass. the infamous sex in thedas codex also mentions nothing on the topic of transness. so like#whats up with that#art stuff#before anyone says anything i fully realize how i look critiquing a bioware game that came out in 2014 on its faulty queer representation#please trust me i know. im just thinking out loud#ALSO. in case it isnt obvious. parsley transed they gender. the joke is that theyre a nonbinary femme now#its hard for me to show it through art because it would involve misgendering them but they dont actually start going by they/them pronouns#until after halamshiral. so like technically if i made them refer to themselves as he/him at any point before that it would be canonical but#its not like my art is chronological by any means and cannot be taken out of context by virtue of it existing as an individual post online#if someone were to reblog an art of them saying hi im a dude theyd go cool! hashtag male inquisitor. or something#the tragic case of sacrificing narrative in order to not get second hand discomfort at seeing parsley misgendered#ANYWAY..........
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fromtheseventhhell · 4 months
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It's crazy that people still uphold show!Sansa as a well-written character and pretend that liking her is the pinnacle of feminism when it would be infinitely more impactful to acknowledge her terrible and misogynistic writing. This is the same character who, while written by two men, was thankful for the abuse she suffered because it allowed her to grow. The same character who we had to be told was smart because the writers were too lazy to develop or show her intelligence. The same character who had to rely heavily on the men surrounding her and ended up accomplishing nothing on her own merit ( and no, thinking that she deserved to be Queen doesn't mean that she earned it). She is not well-written, she is not complex, and she is not a feminist character. Which is fine! If you enjoy her then good on you, but please stop pretending that she's something she isn't just because you feel the need to justify liking her character
#anti got#anti d&d#anti show sansa#anti sansa stans#like literally one of the worst written characters on that show because they tried so hard to make her the most important#while being entirely incompetent and their only method of doing so was to steal from other characters which ruined the plot#the only arguable achievement was defeating LF but even then it's written in the script that she had to go to Bran to explain things#/she rallied the Vale army!/ no she didn't 😭 she wrote a letter to LF and he did everything. instead of showing her arc in the Vale and#her learning about politics to rally them herself they took the quickest route to give her a /badass/ savior scene#which only ended up making her look selfish + power-hungry for putting her brothers' lives at risk for not telling anybody about said lette#and idiotic in the aftermath after relying once again on LF even though he was very obviously manipulating her#/pawn to player/ sounds catchy on paper but without seeing that growth/development it doesn't work#Arya was terribly written but at least we /saw/ her training in a way we never did with Sansa#and people try to apply this same logic to the books and think she's gonna suddenly spring forth as a political mastermind#when that's not how George writes...we see characters develop and make mistakes on page and get actual earned growth#feminism isn't defending the writing of two men who gave her a rape plot not in the books because they thought it was /interesting/#when the only aspect of that plot they adapted was a woman suffering abuse :/#and as per usual with stansas their only /evidence/ of her being well-written is accusing you of being misogynistic if you don't like her
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leqclerc · 2 years
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Charles speaking about Sebastian at the drivers’ press conference ahead of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2022 ↳ Q: Now Charles, if we could just kick off talking about your former teammate, Sebastian Vettel. What will you remember from your time together?
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persephone-nymph · 11 months
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Jeff Buckley performing at Cabaret Metro, Chicago (May, 1995)
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maxsix · 7 months
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thealogie · 6 months
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My year of having to hand it to white male british writers that drive me up the wall: moffat went off with season 10 of doctor who
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