#looking for systematics ladies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hubristicassholefight · 5 months

Text

Swordswoman showdown FINALS

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Xena

Warrior Princess

She wields a sword and chakram. Just had to submit a biconic swordswoman.

i love her. she made me gay as a kid. Anyway, her weapon of choice is her sword, she is obviously very good with it

#unfortunately i have to choose and i have to choose xena#a) utena had no warcry. b) xena fought gods. c) xena has kickass goofy comic book combat which is my favorite

xena didn’t just fight gods. she fucked up a girl’s life so bad that she (calisto) devoted her entire being to destroying everything that xena loved that ended up with calisto becoming a god in order to destroy xena, which didnt work because xena entombed her in lava. and then when xena and gabrielle encountered calisto in the (christian) afterlife (different from the greek one which they also fought her in), calisto dragged gabrielle to hell so xena became an archangel in order to save gabrielle and then sacrificed herself in order to undo all the harm that she did in calisto’s life and then when not!jesus (played by timothy omundson) revives xena and gabrielle, calisto impregnates xena with the reincarnation of calisto’s soul in order to end the cycle of hate. xena doesnt just fight gods. she creates and destroys them

#this isnt even mentioning her fighting julius ceasar several times#telling brutus that caesar is not his friend#xena and gabrielle’s souls reincarnating across centuries in order to kick ass and fall in love all over again#or the time xena became a god but tbh that ep is kinda ‘uhhhhh…..’ even if they did hire a consultant for it

#I think everyone here knows to vote for Xena. I think a couple people here might have some propaganda for Xena saved already#everyone remember that Xena/Gabrielle is CANON and that's a pretty big deal also#(does anyone have that Xena Loves Trans People interview around because that would also make good propaganda)

I love Xena ❤️ 😍 💖 ❣️

#hornet #hollow knight #xena #xena: warrior princess #swordswoman showdown #poll #official #round 6 #finals

548 notes · View notes

sibelin · 1 month

Text

I don't want people to reblog that AI art post so I'll put my addition here:

One thing that will always make me cringe with those AI imitations of middle to late 19th century art is how the intelligence will always try to match ALL the women figures with the current 21th century beauty standards. Now, of course, I wouldn't be complaining if these kind of images weren't plaguing the "classical art" or "oil painting" tags. But since they are, I will show you what 19th century painting of women really looks like. And yeah, I know, some paintings match with current beauty standards but it's still more complicated than that. "Classic" painting is not all about representing pretty ladies. Otherwise historians of art would be bored.

Okay, if it's a "classic" painting, let's go with neoclassicism which is basically a return to the classic inspirations from antiquity and a return to simplicity after years of the wild Baroque and Rococo of the 18th century. Want to see portraits of women in that time?

(Left : Detail of Portrait de madame de Verninac by Jacques-Louis David, 1979. Right : Portrait de Madame Duvaucey, 1809, Jean-Dominique Ingres).

So far, notice how these two women don't look at all like the women in those fake AI paintings. They are portraits of real women, thus real models. But even when they were painting gods, 19th century painters HAD models! Not only that, they were also inspired by antiquity, which wasn't really doing realism either, they had their own ideals like, to cite one exemple, the really straight noses you always see in greek statues. Well, that's also in neoclassical paintings! Look:

(Detail of La Mélancolie by Constance Marie Charpentier, 1801)

On the other side, you've got two strong opponents (and logical responding movements) to this return to classical culture : Romantism and Realism. Once again, look at the diversity :

(Left: Details of Les foins by Jules Bastien-Lepage, 1877. Right: Jeune orpheline au cimetière, Eugène Delacroix, 1824.)

Realism is pretty self-explanatory. The painters were going back to show normal people, farmers and workers. They weren't here to make them beautiful or to conform to beauty standards but to show the world as it is. Result was a lot of controversies, notably with Courbet and Les baigneuses, a representation of a strong woman in an unflatering pose and dirt on her feet that shook the beauty standards so dear to the academic ideals of his times. Check it out if you're interested, there's plenty of articles about it. And romanticism? Once again very diverse. Just look at pre-romantism, with Goya, who loooved representing fucked up little scenes. Or with Delacroix, here with one of his most famous portrait (Jeune orpheline au cimetière) probably because of the expression, the pose, everything that makes that girl look alive, real, unique.

But wait.... You've already seen classical paintings were the ladies looked like all the ladies nowadays, right? Maybe you've seen those very pretty pre raphaelites paintings with those women that look kinda like Florence Welch. Maybe you've seen academic art, the most palatable of 19th century style when it comes to beauty norms. And it's true, it could be similar to these prompted AI classical babes, except once again, it's not. Because once again, they had models, and models were different from paintings to paintings. And this is this systematic same face vibes that makes AI so boring. Because even when real historical art comes close to that, it is always way way way more rich and full of surprises.

(left : The North-West Passage by John Everett Millais, 1878. Middle: Detail of Contemplation by John William Godward, 1922. Right: Detail of La Naissance de Vénus by William Bouguereau, 1879)

Then, you have all these art styles that AI weirdly stays away from : those where the style and process is so strong, so much more important than the subject, that it would be hard to copy without noticing the difference. It could be impressionism, it could be symbolism or better, it could be the avant-garde artists that announces then blends into the wild, colorful and tortured art of the first half of the 20th century.

(Left: Le chemin de fer by Edouard Manet, 1973. Middle: I lock my door upon myself by Fernand Khnopff, 1891, Right: Jane Avril by Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, 1892)

Conclusion/ TLDR : If fake historical AI art becomes more realistic every day, it will never be as rich and diverse as the real deal because it will always be used to appease an algorithm for people who just want to see pretty images that catters to them and never challenge their views. When it comes to beauty norm, this could be dangerous and make people believe that these was always how women looked like. That all girls were born with removed buccal fat and symmetrical faces, even in old paintings. I don't know, it may be nothing, but it may be something. Thank you for those who read all that and I hope see many cool paintings in museums :)

Addition: This is of course a very european centric vision of art but it's what the AI will take inspiration from anyway. For the same reasons, these paintings are very white but I was also trying to avoid the icky orientalist representations that were so trendy in the 19th century. Note that there is an even better diversity in paintings when you open your eyes to non-european centric art.

(If I see a terf reblogging this, i'm blocking on sight)

#history of art #art #classical art #paintings #anti AI #ai #long post

92 notes · View notes

shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 year

Text

Imagine the celestial dragons needing Shanks to stop you

Warning: slight spoilers? Use of a previously seen character's name that is release in more recent chapters (1050-1079?)

At Mary Geiose

Shanks: so....why am I here?

Jaygarica Saturn: We need to talk about that little fighter of yours. *Holds up your wanted poster*

Shanks: Oh yeah, they got separated from the crew a few weeks ago, and I haven't seen or heard from them since. *Voice dips to a threatening grumble, and he glares at the old man* Should I be worried?

Jaygarcia Saturn: well, not in the way I think you're implying, they're not in custody. The matter at hand is that a lone member of your crew is causing mass chaos.

Shanks: are you sure we're talking about the same person? I've never had them so much as step a toe out of line.

Jaygarcia Saturn: They've burned down three town halls, stolen six navy ships, injured hundreds of marines, stolen jewelry from wealthy ladies in six kingdoms, and that's not even the worst of it. They're sabotaging and systematically dismantling the animal fighting syndicates. Just yesterday they allied themself with a group of knife fighting monkeys that they freed, and together, they trashed an arena.

Shanks: And how is that a problem?

Jaygarcia Saturn: we're loosing money having to replace and repair the damage to the entertainment industry!

Shanks: and whose fault is it for investing in blood sports? Do you expect anyone to feel sad for you and your 'losses'?

Jaygarcia Saturn: Look... We'll pay you to go collect your fighter.

Shanks: *scoffs* Do you seriously expect me to hand a member of my crew over to you?

Jaygarcia Saturn: no, no, simply collect them, what you do with them after they are in your custody is up to you.

Shanks: I want their full bounty price, up front. And I mean the one you set it to this morning, not this outdated one.

Jaygarcia Saturn: *sweats* very well

A week later

You: *currently picking a lock some bird that are being trafficked*

Shanks: *snuck up on you and is now crouching behind you,* You're doing it wrong.

You: *shrieks and throws yourself against the cage door* Captain, what are you doing here?

Shanks: Shhh, keep your voice down, and giving you lock picking lessons, apparently. Even though you've always claimed to be a decent at it.

You: *hisses* I know how to pick a lock.

Shanks: evidently not, since you miscounted the pins.

You: you do it then, since you're so smart.

Shanks: *takes your tools and picks the lock in less than thirty seconds* see?

You: *sighs* Alright you're better at picking locks than me. By the way, how did you find me, boss?

Shanks: The celestial dickheads complained about you, and paid me your full bounty to come get you.

You: I'll come willingly if you put that money towards fixing my shower, I'm tired of sharing one with you filthy animals, and if I get first pick on the next treasure we find.

Shanks: *laughs and shakes his head* very well, that sounds like a deal.

You: *shakes his hand* deal, and the world nobles never specified for you to stop me?

Shanks: ... no?

You: then you you wanna help me free the rest of these animals?

Shanks: sure why not, sounds like an evening well spent.

The morning in Mary Geiose

Jaygarcia Saturn: *reading the newspaper and seeing that you and Shanks had destroyed several cargo ships for trafficking after letting the animals go* I guess we'll have to cut our losses, we might be able to even spin it in our favor. Germane, go get PR on the snail, we have some cleaning up to do, and actions to take credit for.... Oh! We can use *snaps his fingers* That flowery fanatic, what's his name... Oh well, it's not important.

Coming Soon

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #red hair shanks x reader #red haired shanks X reader #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #3/31/23 #no beta we die like men

465 notes · View notes

whocookedthelastsupper · 3 months

Text

“Yet some would say, why women's history at all? Surely men and women have always shared a world, and suffered together all its rights and wrongs? It is a common belief that whatever the situation, both sexes faced it alike. But the male peasant, however cruelly oppressed, always had the right to beat his wife. The black slave had to labor for the white master by day, but he did not have to service him by night as well. This grim pattern continues to this day, with women bearing an extra ration of pain and misery whatever the circumstances, as the sufferings of the women of war-torn Eastern Europe will testify. While their men fought and died, wholesale and systematic rape-often accompanied by the same torture and death that the men suffered — was a fate only women had to endure. Women's history springs from moments of recognition such as this, and the awareness of the difference is still very new. Only in our time have historians begun to look at the historical experience of men and women separately, and to acknowledge that for most of our human past, women's interests have been opposed to those of men. Women's interests have been opposed by them, too: men have not willingly extended to women the rights and freedoms they have claimed for themselves. As a result, historical advances have tended to be "men only" affairs. When history concentrates solely on one half of the human race, any alternative truth or reality is lost. Men dominate history because they write it, and their accounts of active, brave, clever or aggressive females constantly tend to sentimentalize, to mythologize or to pull women back to some perceived "norm." As a result, much of the so-called historical record is simply untrue. For example, Joan of Arc was burned not for heresy but for wearing men's clothes, as were other women right up to the eighteenth century. Florence Nightingale was never called "the Lady with the Lamp," but "the Lady with the Hammer," an image deftly readjusted by the war reporter of the Times since it was far too coarse for the folks back home. Far from gliding about the hospital with her lamp aloft, Nightingale earned her nickname through a ferocious attack on a locked storeroom when a military commander refused to give her the medical supplies she needed.”

-Rosalind Miles; Who Cooked the Last Supper? The Women’s History of the World

#HEYY posting quotes from the book in my username starting NOW #radblr #radfem #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radical feminists please touch #feminism #feminist literature #who cooked the last supper #literature #radical feminist theory #womens history #herstory

65 notes · View notes

theladyofbloodshed · 7 months

Text

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 7

A whoosh of wind blew through the room, rustling the pages of her book. Elain swept in with it, a small bunch of flowers clutched to her chest as she twirled. With a flourish, she threw herself onto the low-slung couch opposite Nesta, pink skirts draping across the lush carpeted floor.

‘I am the luckiest woman in the world.’

‘Because I am your sister?’ Nesta countered.

With a beaming smile making her features shine, Elain brandished the bouquet to Nesta. It was a little tired from where Elain had likely clung to it on her walk home from the village, escorted by Mrs Lawrence as chaperone.

‘You hate peonies. You called them roses for paupers a few weeks ago.’

Elain snatched the flowers back and pressed them to her chest again. ‘It’s the thought that counts. Graysen didn’t have to buy me flowers. And they’re beautiful.’

They were nice enough but they looked as if he had torn them from somebody’s garden hastily before his meeting with Elain. Her sister was enamoured with them though so Nesta kept her lips firmly closed.

‘Maybe I won’t be the only lady in this house to receive flowers.’

On instinct, Nesta’s eyes flickered towards the windows, expecting to see shadows or wings.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Elain gave a coy smile. ‘Mr Dunne was on his way here. He’ll be knocking at any moment.’

As soon as the words were out, a knock did sound at the door. Nesta suppressed her groan. Many suitors had been sniffing about her father, enquiring after his eldest daughter’s hand – and he had been happy to indulge them in conversation so that he could bloat his account with further coin. Since Father had been away on the Continent, Nesta had snipped away every suitor like pruning dead flowers, chopping the heads off one by one. Only one man still came calling because he was too dopey to realise her scathing comments were meant to wound.

Mrs Lawrence’s voice echoed down the corridor as he was seen into the room by her. Rather than sprawling out, Elain sat upright, flowers still held in her lap. She greeted him with a nod of the head and a brief curtesy.

‘It is highly inappropriate to come unannounced and unwanted, Mr Dunne,’ said Nesta, not rising from her chair. She had tried to be polite, abrasive, or cold, and he still returned. ‘Even stray hounds can follow commands.’

‘You charm me with your tongue. I did come with a reason. I have written to your father this morning. A letter has been sent to Neva requesting your hand, officially.’

Elain let out a gasp. She had the luxury of marrying for love. Nesta did not. Destiny was cruel; because she was the eldest, she carried the family’s status on her shoulders. There was no future that she could carve, only her father could decide it. And, well, they rarely saw eye to eye. He wasn’t likely to take her views into account. Only in his absence, could Nesta meddle.

‘You will not find me an unpleasant companion,’ he continued, though Nesta already did. He was in his thirties, with a waistband that was stretching year on year with indulgences. The mutton-chops taking up most of his face were greying and untrimmed. He had not yet married but was filthy rich, seizing the unoccupied space their father had once held in trading.

Nesta was not naïve. She’d known a match would be made between her and a wealthy man, but did he have to be so unappealing on the eye and have the personality of a wet dishcloth?

‘Is that all I should want? A pleasant companion to spend all of my days with?’

There had to be more to life than being a docile wife whose dreams were systematically plucked away by her husband. Being a mother was important to her – but that wasn’t all she wanted. Now that their wealth was restored, opportunities were presented to her, ones that were denied in their destitution.

Nesta’s fangs were already exposed ready to draw blood. A glance was shared between Elain and Mrs Lawrence that said they ought to evacuate Mr Dunne from the room before Nesta shred him in two. She had already been called a difficult girl by Mr Polesworth as if she was a foul-tempered horse that could not be broken in fully.

‘I have sent a letter across the ocean to your father.’

She resisted the urge to snort. That was all it took, was it? A simple letter officially asking to be the husband of Nesta Archeron. That was all that was needed to tie them together for a lifetime.

‘And that should move me? Would you cross oceans of time to find me? How ardently will you love me, admire me?’ Nesta stood then to her full height – which had a good, few inches on him. ‘Would you not wish for any companion in the world, but I?’

Mr Dunne attempted to stammer out a reply, but Mrs Lawrence cut in. ‘Good grief, look at the time! We must host you at another time, Mr Dunne. We’d be overjoyed to have you for afternoon tea next Thursday. Miss Archeron will be on her best behaviour. She has been unwell of late.’

‘Ah the sea air would do her well. My family has a property with a vast land by the coast.’

Their voices carried from the room and Nesta let out a low laugh as she dropped back into her seat. Her fingers grazed the spine of her novel as she reached for it. Elain blew out a breath.

‘That was not nice, Nesta.’

‘I am not nice,’ she replied.

If he wanted to enter her den, he should expect the monster to be residing within. Mr Dunne was insufferable. If Father shackled her to him for a lifetime, Nesta would claw and shred until there was nothing left.

‘What did you mean, crossing oceans of time to find you? What was all that?’

‘Graysen will marry you because he loves you. I must marry whomever father decides will fill his pockets with the most money. Is it a crime to a want a man who would love me too?’ Nesta thumbed through her book to find her page, having closed it too hastily earlier. ‘If a man wants me, he should earn my love, not expect it.’

From her couch, Elain gave a small, mischievous smile – the likes of which Nesta hadn’t seen on his expression for many, many years. ‘You are a romantic at your core.’

Nesta made a tutting noise. ‘Delusional, perhaps, to hope a husband might want a wife who could meet him step for step in history and mathematics and be more than a brood-mare.’

Elain stood then, smoothing down her skirts with one hand. The peonies were gazed upon once more with airy delight, Nesta’s words hardly registering.

‘These need a vase and water,’ she said to herself before exiting the room.

It was difficult to know if Elain purposefully ignored comments that Nesta made or it was unintentional. She had been coddled and kept, year on year. When Nesta had asked her to think of the possible outcomes of Graysen discovering their youngest sister was fae, Elain had begun singing to herself and straightened the rug. She did not like to face reality, but it was a necessity. Elain preferred to keep her head in the clouds to avoid the rain whereas Nesta anticipated downpours before the clouds had even greyed.

As a result, she had nobody to share her misery with. The only one in the village who ever made time for their family was Clare. Thoughts of Clare had Nesta’s throat tightening. She had walked past the house the next morning. She’d thought along the way that there was a pungent smell of smoke strangling the air then her eyes had settled on the charred, smouldering remains of the Beddor home. It had felt as if the whole world stopped. Nesta had stared and stared in disbelief that a whole family could be gone – that nobody in the village even knew about it until the morning.

The sycophantic women who had made a return to their lives when money returned were not welcomed by Nesta. She had made a point of being rude and cold to them. Elain might have forgotten about the decade of shunning they received, eager to be back in society, but Nesta would never forgive them. She did not want – or need – such vain people in her life.

But it meant that she was alone. There was nobody to lean on, to share her worries about an impending engagement with, or even pass the time with for fun. Nesta had learned to be alone.

***

‘Where in the name of the Mother have you been?’

Cassian dropped the spoon he was holding and practically hurdled the low table in the living room to wrap Azriel in a bone-crunching embrace that lifted his feet from the ground.

‘Do that to him again,’ called Mor, ‘and he’ll disappear for another week.’

When Azriel was settled back down, Cassian returned to his soup. Mor lay on a couch, a lock of blonde hair twisted around the end of her finger.

‘I’ve been busy,’ he replied then joined them in the living room.

Busy.

Laughable. Debatable. Undeniable.

He had been busy of his own choosing. Azriel took on more missions on the Continent, more stakeouts, more canvassing. He was working himself ragged of his own accord. The order hadn’t been issued by Rhys. Hell, Rhys had not even contacted him for days. He'd do anything rather than be back at the mortal manor - although every single fibre of his being demanded he go there.

Not even him. These fucking shadows.

See her.

They whispered it even now.

Azriel did not want to even think of that word – mates – because it was impossible. She was mortal, so very mortal. In fifty years’ time, she might not even exist. A strong illness could take out mortals as easily as a dandelion head blown away. There was no such thing as a mating bond to a mortal. Bonds were rare amongst high fae, rarer still for Illyrians.

His shadows had a newfound fascination, that was all.

They had latched onto something new and shiny. Someone who didn’t balk from them. That was all. It was a novelty for somebody not to shy away from them so his shadows were getting carried away with their excitement.

‘I need to see Rhys.’

‘Good luck,’ said Mor with a tinkling laugh. ‘You won’t see him for at least a week.’

‘A week? You’re being generous. Four days, maximum,’ replied Cassian.

He glanced between the pair, not understanding their joyful expression.

‘Feyre accepted the bond,’ said Mor.

Oh.

Azriel had suspected it the moment Rhysand had stormed the wedding and spirited her to Velaris. Anybody else would have been kept in the Hewn City rather than risk them seeing their City of Dreams.

‘You can tell the story, Mor, since you were the one to stow Feyre in Illyria.’

It sounded as if Azriel had missed all of the excitement in his self-imposed exile. Whilst he was overjoyed for Rhys and Feyre, the ache in his chest gave a resounding sigh as if it was missing something. While Mor spoke of the attack on Rhys, Feyre ensnaring the Suriel and discovering the truth, and her taking Feyre to the cabin in Illyria, Azriel listened mutely. He had little to add to the conversation except his own congratulations which he’d pass along when they all reunited again. If anybody deserved a mate, it was Rhys. He was glad for his brother, but as he shuffled along to his room that night, Azriel couldn’t help but feel jaded. For over five hundred years, he had wanted only one female. He’d wanted to bond with her. Wanted her. And the Cauldron had decided that Azriel didn’t deserve Mor. He wasn’t equal to her.

The shower head rained down on his wings. He tipped his head up towards it so the heat washed over him. There were many things in his life that his childhood had forever changed. Showering was one.

Each day, a fresh bucket of water was brought to him to drink from. An empty one remained to relieve himself in. He doubted if they were ever truly washed. Once a week, after he saw his mother, Azriel was brought a bucket of tepid water with a few bubbles floating on the surface. It was all deliberate, he knew, so that he was sent to his mother as grimy as possible. One rag would be at the bottom of the bucket to scrub himself with. Azriel could never wash his wings properly with too-short a reach.

When Rhysand’s mother had taken him in, Azriel would stand under the shower for what felt like hours. He only ever came out when he was forced out either through food or some other means. Even now, Azriel did not like baths or open water. He’d learnt to swim later on as a necessity, but found no joy in it. Showers, however, were still something that he craved and looked forward to when his mood was low.

When Azriel finally emerged from his bathroom, his shadows were skittering over the bed like a pile of puppies. At his arrival, they scattered to the floor, leaving one solitary shadow on the bed.

‘Oh, remembered who sings to you, have you?’

It rushed at him. In one movement, it darted across his cheek, around the back of his neck then settled on a shoulder, curling towards his ear.

‘Did you enjoy your jaunt to the mortal lands?’

The shadow spoke to him.

Engagement.

Letter.

Neva.

At the words whispered into his ear, Azriel stiffened. The ache in his chest turned to something unbearable like a rib prised open, a heart plucked from within.

‘She’s the eldest daughter. It is a natural sequence of events for mortals.’

With war imminent and the abode of the mortal sisters likely to be a battleground soon enough, engagements seemed a folly. Azriel warred with himself over what to do with the information. It was inconsequential. It changed nothing. He had no need to pass it along to Rhysand or Feyre, even if it concerned her sister. And yet, Azriel could not stop himself from thinking of it as he lay in his bed, in the silent House of Wind. Did the eldest sister not deserve a life of happiness with a husband to take care of her? If the male had a safe place for Nesta, it was better she married and increased her distance from the Wall.

Her heart has not chosen him.

Azriel pulled a pillow over his head as he rolled over. The shadow continued trying to wheedle its way towards his face.

‘The heart does not always get what it wants.’

It gets what it needs.

#nezriel #you're the closest to heaven i'll ever be

78 notes · View notes

darklinaforever · 10 days

Text

I don't understand the people in the ASOIAF fandom who will judge romantic relationships based on the age difference of the characters from a modern point of view. While we are in a fucking feudal context, or at least one inspired by it. You can't judge that with a modern eye. You can't say that a guy in his thirties who courts a 14 year old woman, and marries a 15/16 year old woman is a pedophile. Already because the young ladies are teenagers, not children. But then and above all, because at the time, these women in this age group were of marriageable age, and just a few years away from the official age of 16. Yes, it may look horrible to the modern eye, and it is. But that does not systematically make the men who marry these women pedophiles or groomer. It's completely ridiculous to make such comments. The customs and mentality of the time were not the same as today. These men saw these women as adults. Not like children (which goes against the definition of pedophile). As for adolescence, it was literally something that didn’t exist back then! Please, people open history books more often to educate themselves a little.

24 notes · View notes

arealphrooblem · 1 year

Text

Terms of Surrender Part 5

Synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates.

Part One Here

Part Four Here

CW: Ingrained, systematic sexism (not from the Warlord)

“I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

The warlord hovered his hand over a rook and then a pawn, considering his next move. The last few visits to the rooftop garden had shown nothing but a city peacefully rebuilding; even so, the queen felt her stomach clench in unease.

“Oh?” she said, keeping her voice light and curious.

The warlord settled on the pawn and moved it. “Yes. The king of Neighboring Country wants to meet and discuss new trade agreements. I had hoped to gain your insight and advice on his upcoming visit.”

“You want my advice?”

The warlord glanced up at her from the board. “Of course. Out of everyone I know, you would have the most experience and knowledge with this man and previous trade agreements.”

“And you would trust my advice?” she asked slowly, game forgotten.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “Well I wouldn’t follow it blindly, but I don’t follow any advice blindly. It doesn’t make it any less valuable. Would you be willing to share it?”

She chose her words carefully. “I will share what I can. However, my husband did not include me in those kinds of negotiations.”

“What do you mean he didn’t include you?” The tiny smile dropped, replaced by an icy glint in his eyes. “You are his wife and a ruler of your country. Why would you not be included?”

The question took her aback, the answer so obvious to her that she didn’t understand his confusion. “I’m a woman,” she explained slowly. “Trade and the economy were not part of my duties. That’s the sphere of men.”

He stared at her as if she had just spoken gibberish, or in a language foreign to both of them. “I see,” he said after a long moment.

She felt as if she had just disappointed him and the guilt and embarrassment of it burned at her edges.

“I have met that king many times,” she said tentatively. “He was a friend of my father’s before I was married. I could advise you on his personality, his flaws and vices.”

“That would be very helpful,” he said, the coldness of his gaze melting. “Thank you.” He gestured at the chessboard. “It’s your turn, my lady.”

That afternoon, one of her guards delivered a rolled up piece of parchment to her, from the warlord.

“What is this?” she asked cautiously.

“The terms of trade my lord created,” said the guard. “He wanted you to look over them.”

Nerves fluttered in her gut but she did not let her face betray her. “I see. Thank you.”

She took it to her desk that faced a window to the garden, opened up the curtains, and settled in. Reading it with her limited skills felt like deciphering a code. The slant of his beautiful handwriting often confused her, as did his long, winding sentences. She took in enough to get a basic idea of the terms he wanted; hopefully combined with her knowledge of the king in question she would be able to provide enough assistance to satisfy him and not enough to invite more this sort of advice.

Dinner was accompanied by the Warlord himself, who set them up at her breakfast table. She noticed that he preferred simple food, not multiple courses, and he had a sweet tooth. Tonight's dinner was seasoned, tender fish, spiced rice and soft flat bread. A small layered pastry sat on a separate plate.

“This is unexpected,” she said. “I haven’t had a dinner companion in quite some time.”

He paused, fork in hand. “Do you prefer to eat alone? I can return.”

“No, no. It was not a complaint.”

In truth she did enjoy his company, despite her reluctance to trust him. And though she’d grown more comfortable with a level of solitude unheard of for a member of the court, she often found herself lonely.

He gave her that tiny smile. “I thought we could discuss that trade contract after we eat. Meanwhile, what can you tell me about your experiences with this king?”

“He’s very manipulative,” she said immediately. “My father could see through much of his lies, but he ran circles around my husband and received many benefits as a result. I’m sure he expects to woo your ego enough to get those same benefits from you.”

The Warlord smirked. “I hope he gets used to disappointment.”

They discussed the king in more detail. The Queen regaled him with stories of the type of oily flattery that had won her husband’s fragile ego so quickly. She could tell just by the way the Warlord rolled his eyes or pursed his lips that such flattery would not work on him, that his ego was not fragile at all. It pleased her that the king would be greatly disappointed indeed but not brave or stupid enough to start a war over it. If only she could sit in on such a meeting to witness it herself.

She enjoyed their conversation so much that she forgot his expectation for after dinner. Once the plates were cleared away, the Warlord asked her to bring the scroll, and the bottom of her stomach dropped out. She obeyed regardless, trapped. The Warlord unrolled it out on the table between them.

“Considering the information you gave me, I see several loopholes this king will try to exploit. Which do you think is the worst offender?”

He gestured at the scroll, inviting her to look. The queen leaned over the table, a small knot forming in her stomach. To tell the truth that she could barely read and understand the first paragraph, let alone be able to skim the entire document.

She took a gamble, pointed vaguely at a paragraph in the middle. The Warlord peered down, brow furrowed.

“Forgive me, I must have gotten confused at what section you pointed at. This is a detail of my previous trade agreements in my country. What part did you refer to again?”

A hot flush crawled down her neck. “My apologies,” she said. “I meant this section right here.”

She pointed to a part two paragraphs below. The Warlord glanced down for a moment before looking back up, gaze suddenly cold.

“If you did not want to give your advice, you could have just told me. I gave you no obligation to comply. Did you even read this?”

The knot in her stomach twisted painfully. “Of course I read it,” she lied.

“And yet you point out the most useless parts of the contract that do not answer my concerns,” he retorted. “I will not be taken for a fool, not especially for asking for something that would only help your people.”

“I’m not trying to make you a fool!” she snapped. How did this conversation spiral so fast?

“Then answer my question!”

“I can’t!” she shouted.

Her voice echoed against the stone walls. The Warlord looked nonplussed.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re not a stupid woman. Even if you could not be present for these types of discussions with your husband — which I find an utterly ridiculous practice — you would still have valuable insight. Unless, of course, watching me fail at this gives you some petty sense of revenge.”

Right now the Queen wanted nothing more than to throw herself out the window before she let him know the truth.

“I don’t care for petty revenge,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No, you don’t seem the type,” he agreed. “So why is this so difficult?”

That horrible, terrifying focus of his stare narrowed onto her and she watched the realization dawn on him in horrible, terrifying clarity.

“Please tell me you can read,” he said.

She jut her chin out. “I can read.” It technically was not a lie.

He tapped at one of the last paragraphs of the contract, the one closest to her end of the table. “Read that for me.”

She crossed her arm. “I’m not playing your game.”

His stare challenged her. “It’s not a game. Read it.”

She said nothing, holding his stare, keeping her arms crossed. The longer she refused the stormier his gaze became. But the fear of his anger was like a candle to the inferno of her shame. Finally he took up the scroll in disgust and rolled it back up. Victory tasted like ash on her tongue.

“Why were you never taught to read?” he demanded. “Was it because of your father? Did your mother know how to read? What sick bastard of a man keeps his daughters from literacy?”

“It wasn’t my father,” she snapped, unable to hear further slander of her family. “No woman knows how to read!”

“What?”

If anything, this made him even more furious. His face glowed red with it.

“You’re telling me half of your citizens can’t read? Half of your workforce can’t read? Half of your royal court can’t read? The mothers of your children can’t read? Why?”

“Because we don’t need to read!” she shouted.

It was a mantra she had heard over and over again. Mothers did not need to read to cook or clean or raise children or love their husbands. Women of the court did not need to read to paint or embroider or manipulate the court for their husband’s favor. Women did not make decisions — their husbands and fathers did. What was the point of reading?

“Are you fucking serious?”

She stood up so suddenly the char behind her fell over. The lack of literacy was hard enough to swallow without the implication that it was somehow her fault, that she was culpable in it’s continuation. As if she could ever have the power to change an idea ingrained over hundreds of generations, Queen or not.

“I don’t care that I’m your prisoner,” she said shakily. Tears crowded in her throat and she refused to let him witness them. “I am not listening to this anymore. I am sorry my inadequacies have disappointed you.”

She strode over to her bedroom doors and slammed them shut behind her.

For three days she did not see or hear anything from the Warlord, which suited her just fine. A constant ember of shame glowed in her chest. He had thought so highly of her, in spite of their circumstances. It baffled her and warmed her. The Queen’s husband had seen her as a means to an end, a way to the throne, and her father had seen her as a failure for not being a son. No man had ever seen her as worthy of equal respect until the Warlord.

And now he thought she was nothing more than pathetic and at fault for her own stupidity. She mourned the loss of his regard for her as much as she burned in fury at him for the whole cursed affair.

On the fourth day, the Warlord entered her sitting room. He held a book in his hand. The Queen glanced up at him from her embroidery and then pointedly ignored him. This did not stop him from taking a seat across from her.

Silence stretched out between them as fragile as a spider’s web. She refused to break it first just as she refused to look at him.

“I owe you an apology,” he said finally.

Her needle paused in surprise, but she kept her gaze firmly on her project.

“I humiliated you. It was not done intentionally; I truly had no idea the women here were illiterate. I became so angry because I see that practice as utterly barbaric and cruel. But I fear in my anger I only deepened your shame.”

The ice of her anger melted enough for her to respond.

“I have tried to teach myself,” she explained haltingly. “But my skills are very rudimentary at best. If I could have changed it, I would have.”

She dared a glance at his face and found herself shocked at the sorrow reflected in it.

“Back home, the women are not so powerless and at the mercy of their men,” he said. “It’s not a perfectly equal society by any means. But it is much different than here. You walked into my camp and delivered your surrender with such confidence, I had assumed you possessed much more power than you did.”

“I have more respect from you as a prisoner than I did from my husband as a Queen,” she admitted.

He looked pained. “That is unacceptable.”

She shrugged. “He was my father’s closest friend. I was his avenue to rule, and the bearer of his heir and nothing more.”

“You will never have to concern yourself with him again,” he said, a glint of his previous fury in his eyes.

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “No,” she agreed. “I will not.”

A relief she thanks God for every day.

“If you want it, I could arrange for a tutor for you,” he offered. “To teach you to read. I am already making plans to open up schools for the women here.”

And you wonder why I find you hard to believe she thought again.

“And until then, I thought I could read to you sometimes?” This offer came more hesitantly, as if afraid it would offend her.

She put her embroidery to the side. “I would like that very much.”

part 6 here

Taglist: @cesspitoflove@aprilraine@talesofurbania1@sarcasticlittlebook @hasel-anne @weaverofbrokenthreads @prismaticpizza

#hero x villain #villain x heroine #fantasci tumblr #my writing #terms of surrender #writeblr #enemies to lovers #`

151 notes · View notes

sneezemonster15 · 11 months

Note

If sakura and hinata were redeemed in naruto, would anyone even care? I feel as if I wouldn't care much, especially for sakura, cuz they've done too much. I think I would still hate them and some others wouldnt buy it.

I mean, say like Sakura was redeemed all of a sudden in boruto, would that be enough to overcome how she she treated other's throughout all the story? Especially Sasuke. Would redeeming her be enough to overcome how she harasses him all the time? Would it be enough to overcome how she chased sasuke and gave him a child he never wanted? Like she gets redeemed and goes "oops, I know you never wanted this but I'm sorry now and I'm a changed person, won't happen again." Like the damage is done, she's harassed him and chased him till he gave in, how can you better yourself after you've gotten what you wanted? redeeming can't reverse that damage. Or how she treated Naruto "sorry for being a bully and hitting you for no reason but I'm changed now, won't do it again." Apart from narusaku audience, which audience is gonna buy that? Like it's unconvincing she would get redeemed and then would apologize to naruto as it just so happens to be when he's hokage and she's got her prize Sasuke. Or for ino she gets redeemed and apologises for how she treated her, but it unconvincing because sakura has won Sasuke, so she and ino aren't fighting over him anymore.

Or for Hinata,"S..so...sorry n.nn....naruto-kun for guilt tripping you to marry me, I.. I.. I won't do it again, I'm better and changed." Like, he's already married to her and started a family. It's not going to mean much?

Based of the ask someone sent abt if it's possible Sakura and hinata could get redeemed. Like you've said in your reply, anyone can get redeemed, but I feel like it would be unconvincing or at the least, take a lot of work to redeem these two. This is just my opinion I could be wrong.

But that's the thing. If Sakura and Hinata were redeemed in Naruto, it would have meant something significant, and it would have contributed to the narrative and plot, because if the plan were to redeem them, then logically Naruto and Sasuke would be made to get together at the end. Look at what Sakura and Hinata represent. Two heteronormative selfish, entitled, unsympathetic, boy crazy girls who would potentially make into women who would force gay men to marry them to keep their illusions of love afloat. They don't give a shit as long as they get what they want, even at the expense of their spouses' well being or their own long term happiness. It was necessary for them to be written that way to facilitate the Brokeback Mountainesque situation in Boruto, no? What with the whole story being a love story and Sakura and Hinata as tools that were used to keep Naruto and Sasuke prisoners to their miserable lives, life of a shinobi who is supposed to live in the darkness, enduring all the misery silently. It's not the kind of world that will accept them, certainly not Naruto, someone who was systematically and institutionally ostracized, an orphaned, homosexual boy who is fated to be THE person in the world that will change it for the better. And this was the only way to resolve this story, in order for it to justify the new gen story, hence becoming the tragic ending that we hate. So the antipathy towards these ladies never got resolved. However, in order for their redemption to happen in the manga, a lot of things would need changing. Like the state of the shinobi world. A lot of things would need changing if Sasuke and Naruto were written to finally get together. Yes, the ending as it is now feels contrived. It is contrived. But it is not meaningless. The shinobi world has been established as a cruel world, where people don't get what they deserve. Look at Haku, look at Madara, look at Kisame, look at Neji, Sasuke, Naruto, Uchiha clan. And those who get it, don't deserve it. Look at Sakura, look at Hinata, look at Sarutobi, look at Tobirama, look at Danzo, look at village elders.

I agree with you that it won't matter if they were redeemed in Boruto. Boruto is not about the boys, they are supporting characters in it. Their story was Naruto and Shippuden. Which is over. And obviously, Kishi made it a point post Shippuden to keep Hinata and Sakura's the same as before, so it doesn't look like he is planning to redeem them. Looks like status quo would persist in the distant future.

However, it could have been done in Shippuden. And like I said in the other post you mentioned, anyone can be redeemed in a show and it is all believable as long as the writer justifies it within the story itself. I used the example of Orange is the new black, because it shows a whole host of complex characters, deeply flawed and yet realistic characters who were written to justly finish their redemption arc. Take Maria's character, a secondary antagonist in the story. Maria is quiet and shy as a kid but given her circumstances, she transforms into a take charge dynamo of a person, very impressive and self assured, she takes after her religious leader/drug trafficker father, who can charm the masses and lead them. She steals from her place of work, she cheats on her husband, she doesn't feel any regret about it. She gets caught and is sentenced for fraud. She works her way in the prison, but navigating the prison life brings out the worst in her, she eventually becomes the leader of the prison riot. She becomes a full fledged bully, a sadist, she has no ethical compass anymore. This leads to her stint in the max security prison, where she is made to eat the humble pie, she learns that life could get even harder, and the choices she has been making has been leading her into even deeper shit, away from her daughter that she loves so much, away from her friends that were her family in the prison. She joins the church, she makes amends to people she has harmed. Her redemption arc is shown throughout the last two seasons, by the end of which, she makes the least destructive of all choices, she apologizes to Gloria, her close friend whom she betrayed, and lets her loving and kind husband to marry the woman he loves, her husband whom she treated very unkindly in the past, despite him being so devoted to her. She agrees to let her husband marry another woman, a woman he loves genuinely, because for once, she thinks about her husband, and not herself. She commits a selfless act.

There were many instances where Sakura was written with a possibility to demonstrate maturity. The reason why Kishi wrote those scenes that way was that, when a character does something decidedly immature at a place or time where the opportunity was so damn ripe to do something mature, and doesn't do it despite everything that has happened before in the plot which had led to the current situation, the character loses credibility in the eyes of the audience. Audiences aren't foolish. Any good writer knows this. The way Kishi wrote Sakura's scenes, stresses even more on the fact that her character simply didn't evolve. Remained the same. That's what narrative motifs are about. This way, the reader is able to glean the meaning out of the scene, as intended by the author easily. It makes the impression the author wants his writing to make. Kishi made it quite clear that the reason why Naruto followed Sasuke was to save him and help him, to relieve his loneliness, to protect him. To be there for him, because he loves Sasuke and he KNOWS Sasuke reciprocates his feelings, even if he makes excuses to hide them, actions speak louder than words. As is evidenced in vote one especially. Sakura was written to chase after Sasuke for her own selfish reasons, where she simply ignores the need to know the truth about Uchiha massacre or any wish to actually know or understand Sasuke. Which Sasuke is clearly shown to understand about her. That's why he keeps telling her that she is annoying, just casually, an off the cuff remark lol. But when Naruto follows him, he gets very reactive, very disturbed, very distracted. Because he knows why Naruto is doing it, he suspects it. He keeps asking Naruto why because he wants to get confirmation from Naruto. Which he gets at the end. Point is, Sakura was shown to be selfish till the end, starting with part one, and then in the kage arc, war arc, just before vote two, at the end when she responds to Sasuke's apology as if she deserved it all along, and then asks if Sasuke would take her on his redemption journey. And then in Boruto and Gaiden.

Naruto on the other hand is shown as the one who is ready to share Sasuke's burdens and die with him in the same scene where Sakura tried to stab Sasuke in the back.

If you truly have conviction in your love, if you know that you love for the right reasons and if you truly care about your object of love, you would do things very differently from what Sakura did to Sasuke consistently in the manga. And all of it was shown to be done by Naruto. Who knows he loves for the right reasons, he would be a fool in love but not leave Sasuke's side because that's how much he believes, they resonated with each other even when they didn't know how to articulate it, they were both lonely. Naruto believes in his love for Sasuke and he knows Sasuke loves him, because he showed it to Naruto, with actions more than words. Naruto changes, he evolves in the course of the manga, he becomes better in every aspect, because he is constantly inspired by the memory of Sasuke, because of the motivation of protecting him and being his rock.

True love is courageous. True love doesn't hide behind empty words and excuses. True love justifies the words that have been said by the lovers. True love doesn't say the words and then take them back in the face of adversities. True love makes it happen despite the odds. That's the glory of true love. That's why it inspires us. That's why Sasuke was convinced by Naruto and not anyone else at the end. Sakura was given all the chances and suggestive realisations but still no redemptive action. Same with Hinata. She realises she is being selfish when jumping in the fight against Pein but she does it anyway because she couldn't help being attracted to Naruto and needed to make an impression on him at the expense of the whole village and Naruto's life, followed by getting trolled by Kishi when Sakura hugs Naruto in front of her. Still no redemptive action. Not even in the war arc when Neji died.

If you can make it believable, anyone can be redeemed, just need to justify it properly. And of course, it won't be an isolated event, it would influence the plot and characters that are connected with them.

Like for example, think about a character such as Oro. He was written to be dreaded, reviled, to cause shivers down the spine, and nervousness, to create a feeling of unease and anticipation, right? Because he is cruel and an evil genius, he is always a step ahead of his opponent, he is clever as a fox. But even he was redeemed. And no, the idea of his redemption was not just at the end when he supported the war efforts. The feeling of antipathy towards him went once he confronts the dead kages in the war arc and supports Sasuke. All through Shippuden, the audience is made to see how none of the adults in their world even attempts to understand Sasuke's predicament and given the amount of focus Kishi spent on making the readers understand Sasuke's tragic past, it makes you feel frustrated to see how no one in the plot tries to even understand Sasuke's side.

This was Kakashi.

Even though Kakashi is shown to acknowledge that Sasuke has truly suffered given his past, he still doesn't understand him. And Sasuke's attitude towards him doesn't improve till the end. At best, he becomes close to indifferent to Kakashi at the end. It's all understandable because it makes sense, because Kakashi has already been established as a complacent and unquestioning tool of the shinobi system. He is emotionally inept and doesn't understand his own team members. And he thinks Naruto and Sasuke are just rivals while Sakura's love for Sasuke has matured, she really loves Sasuke, a girl who is kind and gentle. Lol.

This was Itachi, but who's surprised? Itachi is the definition of tool of the system.

With Itachi, Sasuke tries his best to express his frustration with the system that was evidently so deeply unfair, he tried to explain where his anger came from, which is all very justified. He appeals to Itachi's love for him, and Itachi admits he was wrong to treat Sasuke as a blank canvas, as a kid who didn't understand the world. We again get to see yet another adult, someone who is this close to Sasuke, not understand Sasuke's predicament. Despite Sasuke's desperate attempts. Even Sasuke gets it at the end that there's no point explaining anything further to Itachi, he is brainwashed to the hilt. But he was still Sasuke's brother, and he did take the blame for being the reason why Sasuke was the way he was. But the audience is left frustrated nevertheless. After all this build up to show how cruel Danzo was and how the elders and Sarutobi were complicit in the massacre, we still see them regarding it lightly, as if it is an everyday event. And it compounds our frustration.

No cost is big enough for the apparent safety of Konoha, as per Danzo, but we all know Danzo did it for personal gain, his megalomania, the power hungry despot in him who traded power for hate and destroyed a whole clan like so many stray animals. Danzo was basically a hypocrite. A lot of characters were, in the name of Konoha.

This was Sakura.

After which she promptly made a plan to go kill Sasuke and attempted it.

And then there were others.

No one really cared. Except Naruto of course, shown in kage arc.

Oro is the only adult who supports Sasuke and says something that all the sane audiences have been wanting for someone to say. Someone reliable, someone who would make sense of it, someone who would reassure us that we weren't crazy, that whatever we are feeling is justified. Kishi is not blind to it either, but he needed to set up this world as deeply unfair, and he was going for eternity apparently, lol, which is why nothing really changed much even after Shippuden. None of these characters were redeemed, the ones that never understood Sasuke.

We are clearly shown by Kishi why it was that Oro changed his decision, he was not interested in participating in the war at all, his objectives were in no way benefited from the war. He was interested in Sasuke and even when he is reincarnated by Sasuke, he is still after Sasuke's body. But Sasuke had his own reasons to have brought back Oro and he tells him, Oro is intrigued. He is concerned so he tells Sasuke to not get embroiled, but Sasuke lets him know he can handle it and that he isn't a child. Sasuke shows agency. He is determined, there's a mature look to him, a certain calm strength of will. He realized what Sasuke has been through, he who understands Sasuke's motivation very well. He knew Sasuke went through hell, to be able to kill Itachi, and then he was told the truth about him, he was manipulated even by him, as he himself admits, but he can see that Sasuke has changed, grown. And this convinces Oro to help him, who is now invested in Sasuke's future, even if he doesn't particularly benefit from it. In the scene when all the dead kages are brought back, we are waiting to see what will happen with baited breath, it's a big deal. The crescendo is building and building, big credit to Oro who kept goading and goading, putting all those thoughts in words that we were thinking all along.

"It's really not that complex a jutsu....". He tells it like it is with such dry wit and sharp sarcasm, he trolls Tobirama and how. Hahahah. He calls him out left and right and it is then reiterated by Hashirama. Full entertainment guaranteed. He unequivocally takes Sasuke's side and he doesn't have a hidden agenda anymore. He threatens to destroy Konoha himself lol. He threatens all the kages, all the leaders of Konoha, people who made very bad decisions. He genuinely wants to see the way Sasuke's wind would blow. And when he feels Sasuke's life is being threatened by Tobirama, he positions himself for retaliation and is ready to protect Sasuke.

Sasuke resonates with Oro. Even though Oro was portrayed as a ruthless, mad genius, cruel and manipulative villain, whose past (childhood) was suggested to be equally unfair, but who has been hunting our favourite characters, harming them, torturing them, of course he was reviled by readers. But then, he is made to do the one thing no other adult could do. And it suits him very well. He is one who wanted to get all the victims of this unfair world together and make his own village, he was a non conformist, he was the outlier, someone who understands the ways of this world very well and takes advantage of it for his own benefit without regret, he refused to pander to the shinobi world's ways, he decided to make his own. It suited him to go his own way, being disinterested in war and to root for something/someone he was interested in. Sasuke. He puts his hand where his mouth is. Unlike others, he is not a hypocrite. He has seen wars too closely and he knows what it does to people. All the collateral damage. Sasuke is able to relate with Oro. This is what redeemed Oro, to whatever extent he has been redeemed to. Of course it doesn't make all his other actions alright, but it does soften our impression of him and we lose the edge of antipathy towards him.

And this was done properly. It was made to look believable. You are right, it takes work. The ladies' redemption doesn't mean anything now, in Boruto. It could have meant something back then, but Kishi wasn't going for it in any case.

#ask #vanilacatchocalatecat #sasuke #orochimaru #itachi #danzo #naruto #haruno sakura #anti ss #sns #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #kakashi #sasunaru #narusasu #anti nh #hyuuga hinata

134 notes · View notes

bookishdream · 1 year

Text

wooden swords

Hi, long time no see :<<. But here I come, after a break, hopefully with some new ideas and a fresh head for sure!

Synopsis: just Kaz being a little annoying bitch, enjoy! CW: none <3

“You’re making it too easy for me, y/n” the infamous bastard of the barrel remarked, when yet again your wooden sword met his. You were out of breath, your lungs felt like they were on fire and every little movement tighten your muscles to an unbearable degree. “Live up to my expectations, love”

“I don’t think your ego fits in this hideous hat of yours anymore, Brekker” you took a step back, preparing yourself for the next hit. Your feet firmly planted on the ground, back straightened and every single muscle tensed. You lift the weapon again, concentrating and trying to foresee his next move.

You had been training with Kaz, Dirtyhands Brekker for quite some time. Your first encounter was a rough one, to say at least. You had been brought up in Novyziem and after your parents had thrown you out, with only the clothes on your back, you’d thought that Ketterdam would be a marvelous idea to start all over again. Little did you know that it was a place the devil himself was scared to visit. Or on the contrary, lived in, you still weren’t sure whether Kaz was The Devil.

When the ship you’d been on finally finished his journey, you’d been more than frightened. Immediately, you’d felt shivers, your anxiety had risen and you’d been off to look for a shelter. After the most tiring wandering, you had noticed a nice clothed gentleman, his attire black, as had been his awful hat. The only sound that could’ve been heard was a systematical clicking of his cane, which also looked quite expensive. Your eyes sharpened, the gears in your mind working quickly, thinking about the most efficient way to obtain some cash, the gentleman looked as an easy target.

You’d followed him for what felt like every single damn street and nook of Ketterdam, when eventually you’d got close enough to slip your palm into his pocket and–

“What are you doing, exactly?” the rough material of his glove had connected with your thin wrist, with only one move he could’ve snapped it in half, leaving you with only one good hand. He didn’t look old, nor did he look young. His expression dark and steady, making you shiver. “Do you think of me that low to assume I wasn’t aware of you following me?”

“Honestly, I found you as stupid as any other merchant in this city” you’d tried to keep a calm face and a steady voice, but your breath had been coming out sharply, betraying your calm demeanour. “Your hat is what makes you look foolish”

His eyes had glowed dangerously at your remark, and you wished you hadn’t spoken a word. Then he smirked. “You have potential, let’s go.” started walking, leaving you alone in the middle of a dark alley. A dark shape had run in front of your feet, making you squeak, and you quickly had caught up with the mysterious boy. But it was a long time ago, almost a year had passed since Kaz Brekker had let you stay with the Dregs.

“Y/n, please, we all know that my hats make you swoon” he smirked, paring his sword with yours. Again. You cursed, pushing harder, which came out as fruitless, since Kaz hit your weapon, making you hiss out of pain and let it fall. “I thought I told you not to play with sharp objects”

“It’s not sharp, you–“ your words cut short, as you felt the tip of his sword on your throat. You swallowed and looked him in the eyes.

“Do not use this language, young lady.”

“We’re the same age.”

“I’m two months older.” his smirk was still on his face, making you really tempted to wipe it off, the sword still unmoving. “Hence, my word is the last word”

He let the sword fall on the ground with a small thud, putting his fallen hat back on his head. Kaz turned around, taking a few steps ahead. You, on the other hand, lifted the sword from the dirty street and aimed it at his back, jabbing him in his very expensive and pricey coat. “Never turn your back, unless your opponent is dead. That was the first thing you taught me.” It was your turn to smile, just a little.

Kaz showed you his profile, his cheekbones were highlighted by the warm glow of the street lamps. A little smile was playing in the corners of his lips. “Good job, y/n. Now let’s go and drink, it’s freezing”

#kaz brekker imagine #kaz soc #soc kaz #kaz brekker x reader #kaz my beloved #six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone

157 notes · View notes

the-badger-mole · 9 months

Text

A Word Between Friends

When I first started writing this in 2012, I didn't realize it was going to be a prequel to Avatar: The Final Conflict I'm pretty sure I hadn't even thought about starting A:TFC until after I posted the last chapter. What this was meant to be was an exploration of Katara and Zuko's friendship, and a way to allow Katara a voice in her relationship with Aang. It's one of my earlier fics, and one of my first Zutara fics. Originally, this was meant to be a one-shot, and then a series of one-shots, but I decided it worked better together. It's my very first fix-it fic, and the ending of it is really close to how I wish the show had ended. I hope you enjoy it as well!

"What are you doing in here?" he asked Katara. She followed his gaze and flushed slightly.

"I couldn't sleep," she said. "I needed something to do. Toph got annoyed with me for pacing and I thought, the kitchen could use a good scrub. And, well, here I am."

"You clean when something's bothering you?" Zuko raised an eyebrow. Katara shrugged and played with her fingers.

"It's something I can control," she explained. "It's kind of sick, because under any other circumstance, I hate cleaning." Zuko looked around the rest of the kitchen and sure enough, the floors, counters and windows were gleaming in the torch light. Then he frowned. She couldn't have possibly have done all of this in one night. It was late, sure, but they had only gone to bed a few hours before, according to the clock on the shelf above the basin.

"How long did this take you?" Zuko asked. "This room was filthy."

"I've- ah-I've been at this for a few nights," Katara admitted. Zuko wondered briefly how no one had noticed how clean the kitchen was getting, before he realized that Katara did a bulk of the cooking. No one else spent enough time in the kitchen to notice her systematic cleaning. Zuko walked over to the small wooden table and pulled out a chair. He looked at Katara shyly.

"Do you…want to talk about what's bothering you?" he asked uncertainly. Katara hesitated for a moment before sitting in the proffered chair. Zuko sat across from her and they were both silent for a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked at last. Katara bit her lip and pulled at the sleeve of the pajamas she was wearing. They had been Fire Lady Ursa's and were a bit large on Katara.

"I don't know," Katara answered him, throwing her hands up helplessly. "I just feel like- there's so much going on right now. How can any of you sleep?"

"Are you talking about the fight with the Fire Lord?" Katara nodded and looked down at her hands folded on the table.

"Among other things." Then to Zuko's immense discomfiture, she burst into tears and lowered her head onto the table. Zuko looked around for something-someone who could help. He was completely out of his depth.

"H-hey! It's alright," he said, awkwardly patting her head. Katara looked up, bewildered by his attempt at comfort.

"Wow," she murmured. "You are really bad at this." Zuko blushed and pulled his hand back as if he had been burned.

"I haven't had much practice," he mumbled. He stood up and looked towards the door. "Look, why don't I get your brother? Or Suki? Maybe it'd be better for you to talk to another girl about -" Katara surprised him again when she started laughing.

"Zuko, relax." Katara, still laughing, wiped the rest of her tears away. "I'm sorry. I'm fine, really. I just haven't been sleeping well and I tend to get a little emotional when I'm sleep deprived." Zuko looked unsure. Katara sighed and pushed his chair out with her foot. "Please don't go. I could use the company."

Read the rest of the chapter here

#atla #zutara #a word between friends #ffn cross posting #katara and zuko #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

47 notes · View notes

danisnotmyname · 4 months

Text

I'm fucked. Today in my poetry class I learned that it's best I rewrite my research proposal and redo the entire project I've been working on since the beginning of this semester. It's a hard decision to make but the right thing to do.

Apparently my professor hates psychoanalytic stuff and systematic theories, so anything Lacanian has to go. Bye bye 3/5 of my paper. Without Lacan's theory as my methodology I need to shift my focus and find a new approach. I still want to discuss art and artists in Tennyson's The Lady of Shalott though. But from the looks of the remaining 2/5 of my project—which is about gaze and gender power relations—I'll need to talk about the influence of audience and its impact on art/artists, WHICH MEANS looking into what Tennyson's contemporaries said about him and how that conversation evolved. Fuck me. Oh no I don't have to because the new readings will.

And also, I'm very confused because this other professor I've been working for as RA wants me to host a graduate dinner on her behalf?? Not to mention that I've been doing TA stuff even if I've become her RA. Now she wants me to be a social butterfly. Alright. I am getting ready to bend over because obviously she sees me as her dog. A very good-looking one, I hope.

18 notes · View notes

hubristicassholefight · 6 months

Text

Swordswoman Showdown Semifinals

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

So, SPOILERS

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

#BRIENNE WON A MELEE WHEN SHE WAS 19 !!!!!#DONT LET HER LOSE

#MORE LOVE FOR BRIENNE#SHE FOUGHT A DAMN BEAR WITH A WOODEN SWORD#SHE AVENGED A MAN UNJUSTLY MAIMED#SHE PROTECTED CHILDREN AGAINST SEVEN MEN#NO CHANCE AND NO CHOICE

I'm going to put some propaganda for Brienne, because she deserves the world.

Some people have been quoting the "no chance, no choice" in the tags, but for those that don't know it comes from this scene:

...she could hear the faint clink of swords and mail from beneath their ragged cloaks. She counted them as they came. Two, four, six, seven. (...) Brienne sucked in her breath and drew Oathkeeper. Too many, she thought, with a start of fear, they are too many.(...) Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. The children, she thought. The door to the inn banged open. Willow stepped out into the rain, a crossbow in her hands. The girl was shouting at the riders, but a clap of thunder rolled across the yard, drowning out her words. As it faded, Brienne heard the man in the Hound’s helm say, “Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them.” The fury in the man’s voice drove Willow back a step, trembling. Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. “Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.”

This is basically one of the most badass and awesome moments of the series... because here, Brienne is not guarding a King, vanquishing a great Evil Lord, or fighting a big glorious battle... this is an inn full of orphans being attacked by raiders, children whose lives really don't matter in the great scheme of things. If they were all to be killed, nobody powerful would really care, no history book would write their names.

The logical thing is to run away from there as fast as she could. And yet, Brienne decides to enter an unwinnable nightmarish battle (one where she gets her arm broken and her face eaten) because is the right thing to do. She is a true knight.

Because, in the dark pseudo-medieval world of Westeros, where the patriarchal martial system reigns supreme, there is no space for someone like Brienne, she herself said it best:

"You have a noble father who must surely love you. (...) I know he would tell you that he would sooner have a living daughter than a shattered shield." "A daughter." Brienne's eyes filled with tears. "He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. (...) I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter."

And yet, despite being on the fringe of this society that doesn't accept nonconforming gender expression, despite not being able to be named knight, Brienne is still the embodiment of the ideal of knighthood. She is a true hero, who over and over decides to defend the innocents and do the right thing.

So yeah, my conclusion here is... I think she and kiku should kiss <3

#hornet #hollow knight #brienne of tarth #a song of ice and fire #swordswoman showdown #poll #official #round 5 #semifinals #rape mention below cut

112 notes · View notes

antifainternational · 1 year

Text

REVIEW: WE GO WHERE THEY GO: THE STORY OF ANTI-RACIST ACTION Shannon Clay, Lady, Kristin Schwartz, and Michael Staudenmaier 2023, PM Press Reviewed by K-Dog In February I read the excellent new book WE GO WHERE THEY GO - The Story of Anti-Racist Action written by Shannon Clay, Lady, Kristin Schwartz, and Michael Staudenmaier, with a cool graphic-style Forward by Gord Hill - and published by PM Press. This is the first-ever in-depth history of the influential direct-action anti-fascist youth movement - and the authors do a great job of trying to organize that story into chapters covering the defining struggles and evolutions of the network - including the turf battles between anti-racist skins and nazi boneheads, the protracted struggle against the Ku Klux Klan's organizing efforts, ARA 's innovative and effective work in Canada, and the fierce opposition to both anti-choice fascists and sexism within our movement. The book is driven by interviews with over 50 ARA veterans, fellow travelers or first-hand observers who provide quotes, reflections, and war stories - often with a biting sense of humor.

I spent a good part of my teens and twenties building ARA in Minneapolis and St. Paul, Detroit, Chicago and supporting other chapters across North America. It was my university. So it was fun and sometimes emotional to read stories of fights we were in or see quotes from friends who have put in the work and paid their dues in this movement. I always knew that what we did mattered - even if it wasn't often treated that way by the mainstream left - not to mention broader society. But I have to admit its rewarding to have the history treated as something significant, even crucial. More than giving props to the OG antifas tho - what's really meaningful is that this book will help a new generation, confronting new forms of the fascist threat, find inspiration and lessons in both our successes and failures.

A few things off the top of my head that I thought the book did well was: 1. Quantify the victories against the fash - a surprising number of fascist organizations went out of business after sustained campaigns by ARA - a material contribution to the fight against white supremacy 2. Deal openly and honestly and without hype with the question of political violence - both its efficacy and dangers 3. Emphasize the role of culture (not just the bands - but yes the bands) - the way the movement LIVED and FELT and WORKED 4. Skillfully review the disagreements and controversies within the movement without trying to score points or dismiss points of view 5. Argue for the need for movements that are both militant AND outward facing - radical AND popular 6. Letting the people speak! This isn't a book of academic citations or leftist rhetoric - its the voices of regular, mostly working-class people, mostly without college degrees sharing their thoughtful insights, compelling stories, and clever anecdotes

My criticisms of the book are really more criticisms of ARA. Did we really never articulate a thorough understanding of what fascism is? Or at least establish some solid competing positions? Did we never find a way to talk about strategy beyond the various direct action campaigns we were running? Did we never propose ways to further embed ARA within wider sections of the working-class - and especially relate to communities of color more consistently and systematically? Looking back, some of our short comings are embarrassingly obvious.

For me Anti-Racist Action was a real living example of a genuine "United Front" - the concept of different groups, tendencies, and individuals working together and having each others backs in struggle DESPITE many real and important differences. A United Front does not mean everybody is all happy with each other all the time - quite the opposite, it means we're all often annoyed, angry or arguing with each other - but we don't sulk away when we lose a vote or don't get our way or face some criticism. We do appreciate what other folks are bringing to the table tho, we give them their respect, and we recognize the common goals we are fighting for - because those goals actually fucking matter.

The other thing about ARA I'd like to highlight was the de facto method of leadership - the anarchistic "leadership by example". Instead of a top-down structure where a few intellectuals dictate strategy and tactics on the larger mass - ARA chapters made their arguments by producing real world examples of what they were talking about. Think we should all do Cop-Watch patrols? Show me what that looks like. Convinced we need to make feminism a core part of our culture? Build a crew that exudes that vibe. Want economic demands as part of the program? See how we are doing it in our town, etc. etc. etc.

I have a lot of love for the hundreds of young people who organized and fought for ARA; for the few elders from the 60s/70s generation who embraced ARA, helped build it and make it more sophisticated; and the bands that saw what we were doing and kney they could help by promoting the work on tour and on records. ARA was a militant movement - we took risks and took licks - and gave 'em back too. I remember once calculating how many arrests ARA had taken over the years and by my loose tally we were well into the many hundreds when I gave up counting. Many of us got stitches and casts, relationships got tested and burned, and two of us were murdered by nazis in the desert. Now in my 50s I'm still unsettled and angry about a lot - and I'm still active on a few fronts - will be 'til the day I die. But I have a calmness when I'm around my ARA homies with our jokes, arguments, scars, and PTSD. My people. Virtual book launch of WE GO WHERE THEY GO, hosted by Asheville, NC's Firestorm Books: Tuesday, March 28th @ 7pm. Register here.

#antifa #anti-racist action #we go where they go #pm press #never let the nazis have the streets #antifascist #firestorm books #antifascism #asheville

65 notes · View notes

thermometerjuice · 3 months

Text

Unnecessary barbie collector rant

I would like to preface this with I know that this is messy and long and slightly unhinged but I am bored and feel like complaining. I would also like to say that I know everyone is free to do what they want with their own possessions and I know this comes off as mean but I don't care this is me being irrational and upset because I can be.

For many Barbie collectors, the made-to-move body is the most incredible thing in the world. So much so, that every doll in their collections must be systematically decapitated and given a new head. This is, in my opinion, one of the most annoying and pervasive issues in the collector community. Many people claim "It's for Photography" or "I just like to pose my dolls". Literally, shut the fuck up I hate that so much. I can understand re-bodying a damaged doll or only doing it to a couple dolls, but not every single doll needs to be able to touch its face. Like most of you, bitches are super shitty at photography anyways and I know for a fact there are only so many poses that you can make the doll do. Is it just me? Like I get it they're mass produced play things and it's not that serious but like also it is.

Do you remember tree change dolls and how everyone was pissed at that lady? That's the same way I feel about the people who make every doll made to move. Like first off, the made-to-move bodies that exist are all modern body sculpts so it is so weird when people re-body vintage and older dolls because like the clothes made for that body won't fit properly or at all anymore. Like I'm not even a die-hard preservationist when it comes to restyling and playing with dolls, in fact, I'm usually all for it but the head-swapping is just so ridiculous. Like the current fashion selections for modern body sculpts are objectively the worst in all of Barbie's history and the vintage fashions that do fit look terrible on the modern body. (Not to say that dolls have to be limited to whatever era they originated in but like generally, stylistically they tend to look a little better? like a '60s doll can look pretty goofy in a '90s outfit and vice versa but whatever i digress) (I also am not a big fan of what is now considered the "original" proportioned body in general and much prefer the bellybutton body. (Not that I don't like the other new body types, I do It's just that the current iteration of the standard body type is not my favorite since it does not lend itself well to backward compatibility and is generally poorly engineered.))

Furthermore, we all know the second-hand market has been becoming more and more of a nightmare for a multitude of reasons, one being that half of it is being taken up by the heads of dolls that were made to move on the unarticulated bodies that they were swapped with. This is already a hobby that encourages overconsumption, why are we also acting like turning two nice dolls into one slightly (subjectively) nicer doll and one slightly less nice (again subjective) but still perfectly fine doll that will rot in a bin for years is an acceptable thing to do. A pretty doll who realistically will spend the majority of its time with you on a shelf does not need to be fully articulated. People waste time, money, and plastic buying twice the amount of dolls they actually display/use and create one entire collection's worth of (Subjectively) bad dolls.

For the better part of the 65 years that Barbie has existed, most dolls never had anything more articulation than a twist waist, elbows, knees, hips, and shoulders, and guess what! That was good enough for everyone! Articulation does not automatically make a doll better. There are plenty of static dolls that are arguably better that way. I'd also argue that each doll's specific body adds charm to it that is stripped away when you homogenize a collection in this way. A major appeal of 80's/90's Barbie is the extreme proportion that makes her look like a cartoon character, and so many dolls of the 2000s and early 2010s have really cool gimmicks and special body molds that make them unique to collect. That is without even mentioning how many contemporary dolls lose their body diversity because there just aren't that many skin tone matches for every body type.

Thank you and shut up I hate you

#barbie #dolls #i was really tired when i wrote this #barbie collector #doll community

8 notes · View notes