#Urban Survival Skills for Men

[racefortheironthrone]

Hello, I’ve a part asoiaf part medieval history question. So despite the strict gender roles, we know that women (at least noble women) can enjoy some “male” activities like horse riding and some kinds of hunting (Cat says Arya can have a hunting hawk). Are there any other “male” activities women can partake too without being judged about it, or even encouraged to do so (both in Westeros and real world)?

So as medievalists and historians of gender have pointed out, ASOIAF is far more restrictive for women than actual medieval Europe. I'm actually going to leave aside the situation of noblewoman for a second, because the vast majority of women were not nobles and their experience of gender would be radically different.

What counted as "male activities" for example would vary enormously by location (rural vs. urban) and thus occupation (farmer vs. artisan). Among the peasantry, while men tended to work in the fields and concentrated on cereal-crop production and women tended to do the manifold work of maintaining the home, the reality is that the irregular nature of agricultural labor meant that in times of high demand (especially spring sowing and autumn harvest) it was a matter of survival for every single member of the household to work in the fields. So women absolutely knew how to work a plow, and swing a scythe.

As for the urban worker, while there was also a high degree of gender segregation by occupation and guilds could often be quite misogynistic when it came to trying to masculinize trades (especially those involving higher rates of capital investment), it was also true that the entire household was expected to contribute their labor, so that wives, daughters, collateral female relatives, and female servants picked up the trade alongside their male counterpart. Moreover, as biased towards men as guilds could be, they were even more committed to the principle that guild businesses were family businesses, and so in situations where a master artisan had only daughters or died childless or died with underage heirs, it was absolutely routine for guilds to admit daughters and widows as guild members, indeed usually at the rank of master, all so that the business could remain in the same family. This is why medievalists can point to so many examples of women who worked in skilled trades, often at a high level.

That's what I think GRRM's portrait of medieval society is missing: an entire world of women in business, working elbow-to-elbow with men to make a living.

As for noblewomen, part of the difficulty is that a big part of being a noble was not doing stuff - not working for a living, chiefly - and instead engaging in leisure activities as much as possible. And women were very much a part of those activities (indeed, for many of them the point was to mingle with eligible people of the opposite gender), whether that's feasting, dancing, hunting, hawking, theater and other entertainments, fireworks, tourneys and jousts, etc.

However, women were also engaged in the main "occupations" of the nobility - estate management and politics - way more than GRRM really takes note of. To begin with, as even GRRM acknowledges to some extent, the lady of the house was expected to take an active role in running the house, which meant managing servants, keeping track of accounts payable and receivable, making sure the supplies arrive on time and in the right quality and quantity, keeping an eye on maintenance and repairs (with the help of servants, natch), etc.

Given that even the manor houses of the nobility were units of economic production, the lady of the house would also be responsible for oversight of how the house was doing with its pigs, goats, chickens and pigeons and geese, bees (because beeswax and honey were really important commodities), sheep, and so on, and what kind of figures they were pulling down at the mill and the weir, and so forth.

As medievalists have known for a long time, this list of duties got even longer whenever the lord of the house was away at war or on business, when the lady would be expected to pick up all his work too - which means making sure the rents and taxes get paid, deciding which fields to distribute manpower to and when, dealing with legal disputes in the manorial court, and so on. And if the war came home, the lady of the house was expected to lead the defense of the castle and there are many, many examples of noblewomen who had to organize sieges that lasted months and even years.

However, we also have to consider the impact of inheritance by birth and the inherent randomness of sex at birth - as much as they tried to avoid it, plenty of noble houses ended up with female heirs or in the hands of widows. Most of the time in most countries, women could and did inherit (or at the very least their male children and relatives could inherit through them) titles and fiefdoms, and while their husbands would often take on overlordship de jure uxoris, unmarried women and widows very much exercised their authority as the Lady or Baroness or Countess or whatever, and history is also full of women who were extremely influential in medieval politics and backed up their influence by any means necessary.

[maximwtf]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT. i saw you wanted to write an izzy x reader that had to do with swordfighting—what if the reader is one of olu and/or jim’s friends whom they stumbled upon again randomly either at sea or on land and they bring the reader back to join the crew. izzy’s skeptical at first, i can picture him saying something like “so we’re really just letting anyone on this ship now, are we?” but some time passes and they are getting attacked but the reader shows up and shows out with their AMAZING swordsmanship skills and izzy is blown away but also a little jealous haha. it takes him some time to finally get over his ego and do this, but he ends up asking for some lessons from the reader and so they start doing it a few times a week when everyone is asleep and while they’re dueling and practicing is the only time they really get to talk but they do talk while they’re doing so and they’re learning a lot about each other and then they gradually fall in love?? please feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it by any means, but i feel like you’d write it so well! i love your fics so much🫶

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 4000

google docs pages: 8,5

Warnings: None, I don’t think. A minor injury, at most? 

opening: You bump into some old friends who offer you a new occupation. The first mate of the ship is sceptical of you, but his mind changes when he witnesses a sword fight you’re having. Izzy builds up the courage to ask for tutoring lessons, and there start the long hours of teaching him your knowledge. 

AN// Reader can be any gender, though I guess I’ve forgotten to mention in the previous fanfics that the pirate terminology is rather male based, since women weren’t allowed on ships. But feel free to ignore that as gender affirming and take it as just generic terms. Thank you so much for this request, I was dying to write something related to swords and Izzy !! I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope yall will enjoy it as well^^ ! (This became a little longer than intended, apologies for that :”D)

 “A victory and the reward”

A new ship had appeared near the shore of the Republic of Pirates, and those usually intrigued you. You hadn’t been on a vessel yourself for years now, but each time you saw a new ship appear it did bring back memories, so you would go and watch them. After your sailing days, you’d told yourself that a life at sea wasn’t for you. And you started believing that after surviving the latest sinking of a ship you’d been on. But that might have been a lie, knowing you had regretted the decision almost every day after. 

Now, this new ship laid upon your eyes. In no time at all a jolly boat started making distance from the main vessel, making its way towards the shore. You made sure to stay hidden enough that your staring wasn’t obvious. You could never know who you’d come across with foreign ships. 

The men left the boat, spreading across the shore and towards the more urban area of the Republic. Though, two of them stayed behind, and at least to you it was rather clear they’d done it on purpose. Being in your thoughts, you hadn’t even realised that one of them had noticed you, surreptitiously pointing your presence out to their friend. You weren’t armed but they most certainly were, so running away straight after being pointed out wasn’t going to end well for you.

They approached you, but the closer they came the more familiar their faces became. One of them being more familiar to you than the other, but you’d seen them both before. The pair stopped at a safe distance, but by the way they looked they must have been feeling the same way as you. Confused. “Jim? Olu…?” You asked carefully, voice a little lost as you stared at the pair. You’d met Jim multiple years ago, when they were only at the beginning of their ‘quest’. You’d spent time with them for quite a while, up until you’d found a new crew and left for the sea, as it called you. Olu you had only met more briefly through Spanish Jackie. But both of them you were familiar with. 

“How are you alive?” Jim asked straight away, clearly a little curious through the initial shock. You stared at them blankly for a moment. Oh, yeah. The sunken ship. “You know, what could kill the evil?” You shrugged in almost an animated way, adding a chuckle at the end. Both of them seemingly had heard of what had gone down on the last ship you’d been on, Olu clearly interested as well. “Come on, you have to tell us!” Jim added, walking closer in a friendly manner. “Those days are behind me, I’m only a mere landlubber nowadays.” You chuckled, the sting of saying that still hitting deep. “You?” Olu asked, tone of voice making it clear he didn’t want to believe it. And you wouldn’t have either, only if you weren’t saying it yourself. “Mm, you know how it goes. I retired, as they say.” You replied, an attempt to lighten the mood on your part. “Mm, and I don’t believe that?” He insisted, making you give them both an intense stare before your shoulders slumped. “I haven’t dared to go back since the last sinking. Though, I regret leaving that life behind”, You sighed with a defeated shrug, expression soon turning to a more confused one due to what you heard next.

Jim had suggested for you to join the Revenge’s crew, who had already come together with Blackbeard’s crew. The old sailor in you activated almost immediately, shaking their hand in agreement. Before hopping on the boat you’d be calling home, you met their captain, Stede. He wasn’t the typical captain you’d sail with, but seeing as he’d accepted you rather quickly, you did the same for him. Accepted him as your captain. But after getting on the ship itself, you would meet someone who wouldn’t accept you so warmly. Like one of the old sea dogs you’d sailed with years before. A relic, you thought sometimes when he got on your nerves enough.

Almost the moment you stepped a foot on deck, you could feel the first mate’s eyes on your back, like you were the target for something. And after greeting the crew briefly, he made his presence known. He pulled the black bearded man aside, and even through his attempt at whispering you could hear what he said, “so we’re really just letting anyone in nowadays?” Or perhaps he’d done it on purpose so you would hear it too. 

You couldn’t hear what the other captain replied to his first mate, but you continued to stare at them both with a confused, slightly displeased look. In your humble opinion, you’d been on the sea for long enough to have gained a good set of skills. And you were damn motivated to prove to him that you weren’t going to be no swab. A hand placed on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. “Ignore him, he’s like that always.” Jim said and with that you started settling in. 

Days on the ship passed, and you got accustomed to their way of doing things and by the first months you’d gotten to know the rest of the crew, not just Jim and Olu. Though, as much as you workedand as skilled as you were, Izzy’s mind didn’t seem to budge. It almost felt like he would scowl at you as soon as you weren’t looking. You’d tried talking to him, but each time you tried the reply would be either ‘fuck off’ because he was ‘busy’ or he would come up with tasks for you to do. You could tell he’d been sailing for a long time, and you could tell he was skilled too. But the way he was doing everything in his power to keep you away was odd. Though, you tried to tell yourself that he was softening up to you, thinking he was a little different than at the start.

Swipe by swipe the deck got cleaner, and all the while the action you kept telling yourself you were only doing it because Izzy had told you to. Thankfully that day the wind wasn’t all that cool, though blowing nicely. You straightened your back to stretch, a low groan escaping you at the movement. From the new position you could see an incoming ship. From the looks of it, it was another pirate ship. It didn’t carry the British flag, so it couldn’t have been their navy. Not that they would usually attack pirate ships on sight either way. You didn’t take more time to ponder before running to the captain’s quarters to inform them about the possible incoming attack. 

And you’d been correct, it was another pirate ship with a crew willing to fight for some plunder. All the men on the Revenge had been called on deck, each one of them carrying a weapon of their choice. Yours was a sword, the one that’d been your trusty companion for as long as you could remember. You held it firmly, but with ease due to the knowledge in this type of combat. 

The deck was busy, like an ant nest. You had a man charging at you with a sword in hand, parrying his attack without much emotion. Their initial attack gave you a chance to cutover, quickly fixing your footwork after. The man was down with a nasty wound on his neck, and that is where you left him. Another of the crew was coming towards, you doing your best to keep a good distance to him. He disengaged, giving you a chance to circle perry the attack and allow you to have more space to continue, which you used to lunge and strike the man to his chest. With a swift motion you pulled the sword back, giving it a quick flourish for showmanship even if no one was looking. Or so you thought.

Izzy had fought himself to a position where he had time to watch you fight off the two men. His brows furrowed while following your footwork and the advanced attacks he rarely saw being used. Some of them he couldn’t even name, having not seen them done before. A sting of jealousy hit him through the amazement, his pride in his own skills being shaken. He hadn’t seen you in action before, having no idea of your past or where you’d learned such a set of skills. The first mate’s grip on his sword tightened, his gaze leaving you after the flourish, continuing his own fight. 

After the victorious fight the Revenge kept sailing, days passing the same as before. You were spending the evening with some of the crew, laughter coming from around the table as stories were told along with casual chatter. As the night went on, most of the people around the table started leaving, soon you being the only one left. You drank the last drops of rum from the glass in front of you and pushed the chair back with your legs as you stood up. “Aye.” Came from the stairs as a familiar figure descended from the main deck. Your gaze shot up to him, brows furrowing. “Yes?” Your voice came out a little whiny due to the confusion. The first mate got a little closer, out of the shadows and into the faint light of the few lanterns still lit. “I have something to ask from you.” Slight hesitation in his voice, you noted. You didn’t say anything after, only giving him a nod as a sign to continue. This was already odd enough as it was, Izzy asking for something from you? “Well you know, I saw you fight in the attack earlier.” He started, leaning his hand on the table next to you. “And I think some parts of your tactics were…impressive.” The first mate said with a slight scowl appearing on his face for a moment. A smirk had made its way on yours, amused by the fact that he had finally seen you in action and had to admit his admiration in order to ask of whatever he had to ask. “And I was wondering if you could teach me a few of the attacks you used.” He asked with a slightly pained sigh at the end. The smirk on your face only grew, having to bite it back by chewing on your inner lip. 

The man who’d been ‘tormenting’ you from the day you’d joined was asking for you to teach him a few of your attacks, which you’d learned from the years of piracy and studying the ‘art’ of it. You raised your gaze a little, proud of this achievement on the first mate. Hell, you’d barely been able to talk to the man without him shooing you away like some cabin boy. So, your first response would have been to be a little cocky about this, but you quickly decided against it. “I suppose I could teach you a thing or two, yeah.” You ended up saying, tone loose and relaxed. “You free tomorrow morning?” You asked in return, watching his expression tighten like he was disgusted with the suggestion. “Tomorrow night, when I have the lookout shift.” He said, not giving you more reason for the timing he’d chosen. You furrowed your brows with a slight smirk. Was he trying to arrange the meeting in a way no one would see him training with you? Even the thought made you almost laugh, but you kept it to yourself. “Sure.” You nodded, and without any other words the man was gone. 

You watched him leave, the smirk you’d been holding back finally freely expressed. You couldn’t believe the interaction you’d just had with him. You’d thought the man was slightly amusing from the start, by the way he was commanding the crew around when they clearly couldn’t care less, yet he continued. But seeing him come to ask you for lessons with his tail between his legs was more than amusing. But maybe you’d finally proven yourself to him, and would start getting along with the man from now on. 

The next day passed, the evening dragging the night along. You’d waited until most of the crew was asleep, expecting Izzy to want complete peace. You made your way to the deck just below the main, finding Izzy there along with a few lit candles. 

“Evening.” You greeted him, knowing it was well into the night by this point. “You know, we could have met earlier.” You added, gaining a slight eye roll from the man. “Get to the point, or this lesson will be cut short.” The first mate said, seemingly his defences still up. You put your hands up in defence, pouting slightly. “Alright.” 

You didn’t expect him to have read anything related to fencing or sword fighting, so there was most likely no point in trying to explain any theory to him. The man must have learned his set of skills by just having to fight, learning from errors he’d made along the way. So you thought you’d show him an attack and if he didn’t know it yet, you’d teach it to him. 

Either way, the man was looking at you with an expression that read ‘what now?’ all over it. “How about you show me what you know in action?” You asked, taking your sword out and going into position in front of him. He followed the action, you taking note of the good grip he had of his sword. He didn’t take more time to prepare, using a false thrust to trick you into parrying from the wrong angle before lunging to strike. Or what would have been a good false thrust, if you hadn’t seen it coming. You used a circular perry to deflect it, countering it with a quick flick to his shoulder, making sure not to cause any actual damage. You’d known you couldn’t possibly kick the sword out of his hands due to his strong hold, but the flick had worked nicely enough to get his blade out of your way. 

You backed down after, flourishing the sword in your hand before placing the tip of it against the floor and slightly leaning on it. From the looks of it, Izzy had his brows furrowed but not out of confusion. He had seen the attack performed before, yet it was only now that he’d seen it at such close range, getting a better hang of how it was done. “That good for the first lesson?” You asked, an excited smirk on your face. This would have been a good first step. He already had a good grip of his sword, footwork being nearly perfect, yet his timing and distance needed some training to make the flick work. “Suppose so, yeah.” Izzy replied, voice still a little unfriendly, like he didn’t want to admit to the fact that he was actually taking lessons from you .

That night was a long one, possibly the longest one of the meetings you would continue to have from there. But the later it got, the more Izzy seemed like his guard wasn’t up as much. You explained and showed him a good distance from where to make the attack and the spots on the body where it's the most effective if landed correctly. By the end he was performing it nicely, noting that he seemed to be a rather quick learner. You told him this before going your separate ways, oddly enough, looking forward to the next lesson with him. 

You didn’t talk to him during the day, finding that he was still acting the same when other people were around. But lesson by lesson he started easing out to you, talking to you like a friend after a few meetings. You didn’t mind, not at all. In fact you’d grown a little fond of him over the lessons, finding the two of you often talking while teaching him an attack he didn’t know yet. You’d learned more about him during those nightly lessons than you thought most of the crew knew. 

And as these lessons went on, you found yourself more than keen on the first mate. And at some point you started fearing that maybe he’d seen through you, and your feelings were affecting the way you were teaching him. But trying to push those thoughts aside, you kept giving him the lessons. 

But by some point, you could have sworn you had started noticing him opening up to you more and on some rare days he’d even come up to you during the day. He’d of course never admit that during the lessons, but you began to wonder if you should tell him of the crush you’d developed. And after building some courage you decided the best time to tell him would be at some point during the next lesson, when he was the most natural with you. 

The weather outside wasn't the best that night. There was a smaller storm happening, but not fully on the ship itself. This caused some of the heavier waves to hit the vessel and sway it from side to side, at times rather roughly. Even your sea legs gave out at times when a heavier wave hit the ship, having to hold on to the nearest wall. 

It was safe to say that this lesson would again be held in the lower deck, below the main. The main deck had more space to practise attacks involving long distance movement, but it was no use going there tonight. At best, one of you would fall overboard. 

You descended from the stairs, finding Izzy already stationed where he usually waited for you. “Took you so long, I almost thought you’d fallen overboard”,the man commented while pressing his food against the nearest wall as the ship swayed yet again, in order to keep balance. You raised your eyebrows for a moment, giving him a light shrug. He was struggling as well. “Whatever you say.” You hummed while taking out your sword, leaning it against the wooden flooring as per usual. He was waiting for you to start the lesson. “I thought we’d have a duel tonight. See if you’re any good.” You chuckled silently, the man giving you a low huff with a ‘fuck off’ somewhere in the mix. Though, it seemed he had agreed to the idea as he was taking out his sword, going into position. You followed after. 

Izzy moved fast, quickly lunging at you which you were able to deflect with a parry, having to take a few steps back as he was moving rather fast. “You’re wasting your energy.” You hummed, taking a tighter grip of your sword. You would try to use a flèche to end the duel, but you needed some space before doing that. He knew the move by now, but you wanted to try if he’d be able to parry or block it. 

After gaining enough distance, you got ready. Izzy shrugged at you, eyes keenly on your form. “Maybe, or maybe I almost just got you.” He replied. You rolled your eyes, not out of annoyance but more out of habit. He was preparing to lunge, or maybe trying to fake it to trick you. Either way, you took a longer jump forward, circling his sword to the side and aiming for the area around his shoulder, a successful flèche. Or would have been, if the ship didn’t sway at the exact same time. 

Due to your lunge just now, you didn’t have a proper stance to hold your ground. This caused you to lunge further than intended, and with the added force of the swaying you crashed onto Izzy. You heard the swords clash onto the floor, you feeling the nearest wall hit your head as you landed on Izzy, bringing him down with you. 

You groaned, slowly opening your eyes again. The spot on your head that had hit the wall ached, but you dragged your torso up by lifting with your arms. “You alright?” Came from under you, making your eyes widen. You couldn’t even think of the pain from the hit, embarrassed for tripping him over as well. “I’m- fine! Because I won, obviously.” You tried to ease your own panic by talking, scrambling off of him and back on your feet. 

You watched the first mate get up after you. “We can continue later. I don’t want to duel you like this, not fighting dirty.” Izzy then said, not wanting to argue over your wellbeing, but eyes still keenly on you as you tried collecting yourself. “Then let’s take a break, I can still continue.” You said, holding onto the table behind you. He didn’t say anything to that, not giving you a sign if he’d agreed to it or not. By the sound of it, he’d kneeled down to pick up the swords. 

He walked up to you, handing your sword back. “You don’t look fine.” He said, eyes looking for signs of damage. “Rude”, you almost chuckled, biting your inner lip to fight it back. “What?” He asked almost immediately after. “You don’t think I’m fine?” You asked, having to bite your inner lip with more force after. This hadn’t been how you imagined this going, but it wasn’t going to get much better. Izzy’s eyes widened at the comment, but catching up to what you were doing rather quickly. “I didn’t say that.” He squinted his eyes slightly. “Then do you?” The first mate looked to the side for a moment thinking about the question. “And you would like to know because?” He asked, voice a little awkward now that the moment truly started settling in. You furrowed your brows, not sure if the tone in his voice was a good or a bad thing. “Because I do think that way of you.” You blurted out, the air becoming tense. His eyes were on you once more, but more cautious this time. “Are you tricking me?” He asked carefully, as if that had been a mandatory question to ask before saying whatever he wanted to say next. The chuckle from earlier came out as an amused huff, trying to lift up the mood. “Of course not. What kind of a tutor would I be if I’d take up lying.” His eyes met yours once more. The jokes weren’t working, he was truly getting a little more emotional than usual. “I do…have love for you.” He said, hand careful as it placed itself on top of yours, on the table. As if he was scared you’d pull away. 

You had to hold back a smile, afraid that would scare him off. “I don’t think you understand how relieved I am to hear that.” You said, saying whatever came to mind, as finding any thought out words were getting difficult to find. “I feel the same.” You added, just to make it all the more clear to him. 

You watched the man carefully move his hand from yours to your forearm, slightly frozen in place, as if he didn’t know what to do next. He looked lost somewhere in his own mind. You swallowed hard, swiftly placing your hand at the nape of his neck, bringing him in for a kiss, to which he responded to. You didn’t pull away, a sly smirk forming on your face. 

You’d tried your best to keep it hidden, but it was no use anymore. You switched positions, pushing him gently against the nearest wall, raising your sword up to his chest as you pulled away from the kiss. “I still won.” You smiled. 

[hexaonic]

ok buckle up longform essay on SatoSugu incoming

this thing was written for a friend in google docs and it is six. pages. long

the brainrot is real and it is driving me insane so HERE WE GO

In any interpretation of the relationship between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru – lovers, close friends, brothers, etc. – the dynamic and story between them is (at least to me) incredibly tragic.

You have Gojo, who’s the Honored One - born into one of the three most powerful clans with two rare and frankly op techniques that render him a god amongst men and the Strongest sorcerer in jujutsu society - The strongest is untouchable, too high up for anyone else to reach, destined to be lonely at the top and exploited by the rulers of this society as a trump card, a weapon, for the rest of his life

Until he’s not.

Enter Geto - a sorcerer born from non-sorcerers, with the ability to manipulate curses. But his cursed technique is painful, and requires him to swallow the curses he exorcises in order to absorb them; he himself describes the taste as a “rag used to wipe shit and vomit”. If Gojo is a star or the sun he is the earth, closer to the curses they purge from the world than probably anyone else - after all, he ingests them. I’ve seen fics where they describe the curses affecting his mental state, eating him up from the inside and shouting at him in his head - but that’s not canon, and it just makes me sad, so I put it in cause I’m talking about the tragedy anyway. Geto is strong - cracked at martial arts and skillful with his cursed technique, and together he and Gojo are the strongest.

The two strongest sorcerers are tasked with delivering Riko, the star plasma vessel, to Tengen. They grow attached and are very aware that Riko is scared of the merger and wants to stay longer on the earth with her friends and her beloved maid and them, and they indulge her as long as they can before she goes. But they bring her to the school and she dies anyway, by the hands of the urban legend that is Toji Fushiguro - and Gojo, for the first time in his life, comes close to death. Geto, who has never once seen Gojo weak, is in reasonable shock and horror when Toji kills Riko right in front of him, then pronounces his untouchable best friend dead. He fights and is defeated, but not killed, and Toji leaves. Gojo survives with RCT and his new unlocked Hollow Purple, and kills Toji - but when he finds Riko and Suguru steps into the room, he is in a bit of a hollow mental state (which is understandable - riko is dead, he just made what is probably his first kill in his life, and the people who are at least indirectly responsible are clapping and celebrating her fucking death) and asks Suguru if he should kill them. Suguru says no - that there would be no meaning to it, and that meaning is everything - especially to sorcerers. And Satoru follows, because Geto is the moral compass for both of them.

It must be understood that Suguru is a moral person, but in a careful and objective way - he seems to organize things into neat boxes of “right” and “wrong”, “meaningful” and “meaningless”, and holds a strong sense of justice and responsibility that keeps him in the sorcery race even when he has to swallow vomit-curses and watch people die around him. But it grates on him, a lot, and the grieving and vomit and the ignorance of the non-sorcerers he is supposed to be saving, those he once believed were sorcerers’ responsibility to protect against curses, builds up on his psyche like a mold or an infection and keeps growing. When Yuki talks to Geto after the death of Haibara, she plants the idea in his head that yes, cursed energy does come from almost exclusively non-sorcerers and yes, eradicating cursed energy is possible in multiple ways, and yes, eradicating all non-sorcerers is technically a feasible solution, he struggles with that. A lot. At this point he is already spiraling really badly and questioning everything about his morality and his moral compass and his entire life purpose, and takes this idea to heart.

Meanwhile, his near-death and his power evolving during his final fight shook Gojo to his core and pushed him to be stronger no matter the cost. He got good at using his Limitless cursed technique at all times, being able to control it and its branch techniques with great efficiency so that he could never be caught off guard again. He gets sent on more missions, as he truly becomes the strongest - but in this process, he unknowingly begins to leave Geto behind. Gojo works best alone, when nobody is there to become collateral damage for him, and the authorities in charge send him on solo mission after solo mission. He is too blinded by his own pursuit of strength and his perception of Geto - the morally righteous one, his keeper, his compass, his best friend - to see his counterpart dying a little bit more with every passing day he is left to rot in his own mind. 

Geto sees this disconnect between him and Gojo and it adds another straw to his very quickly growing spiral haystack, and at some point it has to snap. And it does - he is sent on a solo mission to a rural village, where they have locked two sorcerer girls in a cage and blame them for the things happening to their town. Even after Geto exorcises and swallows the curse that was causing the problems in the first place, the village people blame the girls for their powers. It enrages him, and probably makes him think of Haibara and Gojo and the culmination of all the things non-sorcerers do to sorcerers in the name of ignorance, of hunting and eradicating anything that is “other” or “alien”, of the man who nearly killed him and his best friend and called himself a monkey. How the deaths of his friends have all been undeserved, caused by something they could not control or even foresee, how sorcery is all just a race to the bloody, unjustified, meaningless end. Something in Geto snaps, and he massacres the entire town and takes the girls under his wing with his new conviction: that he hates monkeys, and they deserve to die.

Gojo and Geto have their kfc breakup. Gojo is genuinely shocked that the one person who always caught up with him, and was always there by his side when nobody else ever really could be, turned around and committed mass murder when Gojo didn’t even know Geto was suffering, and Geto takes this as Gojo’s ignorance, too: that while he was here spiraling and rotting to the point that he snapped, Gojo was the strongest. Untouchable. Exalted by all and therefore not knowing, or caring, what it would feel like to doubt his own morality or fear the inevitable death of everyone around him in the brutal world of curses and sorcerers. Geto believes that the life of a sorcerer has no meaning - that the endless race of kill or be killed from adolescence to an early grave is a dead end, a pointless suicide mission, generation after generation of lemmings culled by the sorrows of the weak - by the ones they swear to protect. (Some stories spin it a slightly different way, where Geto and Gojo are in love - and seeing Gojo work himself to the bone to be a living weapon all his life, seeing his one and only isolated like this, kills him more than the thought of being hated for freeing him. They theorize that this is the main conviction that drives him to go through with the plan to kill all non-sorcerers.) 

So he leaves, and is branded as a curse user to all of jujutsu society. He is to be killed on sight. But Gojo is the one to confront him, and when he raises his hand to kill his best friend he can’t do it. (“Kill me,” Geto says as he walks away. “There’d be meaning in that, too.”)

The Honored One and the Cursed. The Heavens and the Earth, the Righteous and the Damned. One blessed with innate kindness, and snap moral judgment - one cursed with an infinite moral dilemma, relegated to careful deliberation and action to carry out justice. One with a cursed technique that could be compared to ascension, unlimited power and enhanced perception and untouchable beauty, so high up he is unreachable as heaven itself - one with a cursed technique that could be described as bottom-feeding, damning, so low compared to the veritable God he walks beside that it seems the curses he swallows and the pain he carries could sink him into the earth all the way down to hell.

Yin and Yang, two halves of a whole that circle each other, but never really touch. 

Gojo’s Infinity ensures that. 

In their separation they both adopt children - Geto the girls he saved from the village, Gojo the kids he saved from the clan that had produced and rejected Toji. Geto becomes a cult leader, amassing curses and money and followers by tolerating “monkeys” and healing their “ailments” and swallowing their curses. Gojo becomes a teacher, swearing that as long as he is there nobody will be alone again. (Shoko was there - has always been there - but that is a different tragedy altogether.)

They meet again in JJK 0. Geto declares war on all of jujutsu society, the Night Parade of a Thousand Demons (I think), and Gojo fights alongside the school. Yuuta and his own tragedy, Rika - his lost childhood love whom he accidentally cursed to remain on this earth and torment him, letting nobody close to her lover - face off against Geto at Jujutsu tech. When Yuuta accepts all of Rika and she fully manifests her power, the strongest curse Geto has ever seen, he begins to fight in earnest. (I’ve heard theories that maybe Geto is so unwilling to accept that Yuuta and Rika are truly in love during that fight because that would mean that him leaving everyone he cared about, and the one he truly loved, in order to save them from a life of suffering was completely unnecessary, and he could have had love and a purpose - he could have had Gojo -without all the pain he caused himself and Gojo and everyone who’d cared about him back.)

Yuuta defeats him. Satoru and Suguru are left alone after everyone has left, one painfully mortal and one painfully untouchable. Destined to fight each other. One cursed to die, one cursed to live. No matter the dynamic that was between them, their last words are a tender moment and a testament to the affection and care they still hold for each other, even after their ideals and their lives have strayed so far from each other in adulthood. Gojo kills Geto, but does not have the heart to dispose of his best friend’s body - which is what relegates Geto to the role of puppet, used to carry out Kanjaku’s agenda. In a way Gojo really did curse him, in the end.

Breaking the fourth wall, there are little elements outside the story that make it so painful as well.

Gege Akutami, the mangaka who created this whole universe and its characters and their dynamics (I look up to him, kinda, for the pain he makes me feel) has given details in author’s notes and interviews that make SatoSugu all the more painful. For starters, he agreed with the producer’s(?) statement, which describes Geto as Gojo’s “first and last warm spring of youth” which,, ow; and then he makes it so Geto’s priestly cult man robes are a design that literally have part of Gojo’s name in it (I can’t find the actual name but it’s in there) and in one author’s note or filler issue of the jump he gives us songs that remind him of each character and one of Gojo’s is about heartbreak and love and LITERALLY WORD FOR WORD could describe the dynamic between the two.

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!!

The anime, in season 2, opens with Ao no Sumika and ends with Akari - I think the opening and ending are meant to be Gojo’s perspective and Geto’s, respectively. The lyrics line up - the opening is fun and lively and bright but still foreshadows pain and heartbreak in the lyrics and certain frames of the sequence, and the ending is vaguely melancholy in lyrics, melody, and color; it’s even raining, and half the time Geto appears on the screen he is doused in shadow. In the opening the singer literally reflects on how the brightness/loudness of being with this person drowned out their silence (which cmon that’s satosugu for certain), and ruminates on the unsaid “will we meet again?” between singer and subject. (which AGAIN, SATOSUGU) And one of my favorite ever sequences in that ending sequence is a pair of scenes that show first Gojo, his eyes following a black beta fish with spiky, damaged fins and tail; and then Geto, his eyes downcast, looking away from a white beta fish that is whole and healthy, almost glowing. It’s my favorite way their dynamic is symbolized in the anime and the most painful - just these two frames themselves are enough to foreshadow their entire story. Gojo cares about Geto, and follows him - he wants him to come back. He wants him to be by his side again, for them to be the strongest again. But he doesn’t even notice Geto’s departure until the fish is already on its way off the screen. The fins on the black beta fish are damaged because Geto is sick, because Geto is spiraling, because beta fish whose fins are damaged and sickly like that are typically not far off from dying. Geto looks away from the healthy white beta fish - he turns his back on love. He thinks it’s pointless, and accepts like a martyr that to save Gojo from his fate at the hands of this world he will have to hurt him by destroying it, and likely dying because of it. What’s more - two male beta fish can’t be in the same tank together. They’ll fight to the death until only the strongest is left.

Gojo and Geto are tragic because it’s so clear that Gege wrote them as a duo, two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin. They are foils as much as they are literally meant for each other in any way that phrase can be interpreted, and yet they are destined to fall apart in the end. One is destined to kill the other, then live with the grief that comes from it. The strongest is fated to survive at the cost of the other, stranded on a pedestal that is covered in blood. They are kids, thrust into an endless cycle of death and pain and suffering and gore because it is their responsibility to protect the people that cannot help themselves, and when the two strongest children are met with the horror of it all one breaks and drops out, and one continues the race and runs faster because he’s not allowed to drop out. The one still running eventually must kill the other to keep running. The best tragedies are those where the characters could have very easily done something to prevent the tragedy from happening or stop it as it unfolds – but because of who they are, and their inevitable choices because of who they are, it doesn’t make sense for them to do so. It makes sense that someone so morally compromised like Geto would snap at the realization that the deaths of his friends will keep happening. It makes sense that once the idea was planted in his head and he was shown the multitude of ways in which non-sorcerers were ignorant of the suffering sorcerers went through to protect them, he snapped at the sight of child sorcerers being relegated to a fate they didn’t deserve. It makes sense that Gojo would let Geto free out of love, even if it led to his demise anyway. It makes sense that he was so shocked at his friend’s actions and curse-user status, because he was buried in his own set of societal pressures and took his friend for granted. It all makes sense, and yet they’re all doomed. Every last person in JJK is doomed. Geto’s children died trying to free his corpse from the monster (man) that stole it. Both of Gojo’s children house(d) ancient sorcerers, and will both probably die fighting in bodies they cannot control. Yuji, the main character, is surrounded by the deaths of everyone he cares for, and the foreshadowing of his own inevitable end. Gojo is the Prince in his tower, is forced to watch, untouchable, trapped, as the knight on a dragon is shot down, plummets to the earth below - and becomes the enemy against his own will. Sometimes it makes me so sad I am close to tears. (and sometimes i read fics that make me cry more, because how in the hell are people that good at writing grief and angst and tragedy and where can I learn to do the same)

If the manga ends happily I’ll be surprised, because right now it seems a tragic but meaningful ending is in the works and I’m scared

[dwellordream]

“Northern states acted separately to end slavery. Vermont was the first state to forbid it by incorporating an antislavery provision into its 1777 constitution. In Massachusetts the courts abolished slavery in a series of ‘freedom cases’ brought by slaves and their sympathizers in the 1780s. As Chief Justice William Cushing of the Supreme Judicial Court ruled, ‘The idea of slavery is inconsistent with our own conduct and constitution. …there can be no such thing as perpetual servitude of a rational creature.’ New Hampshire adopted a constitution in 1783 that declared ‘all men are born equal and independent.’

…Elsewhere the process of freeing the enslaved was painfully slow. State legislatures enacted gradual abolition statutes in Pennsylvania (1780), Rhode Island (1784), Connecticut (1784), New York (1799), and New Jersey (1804). These laws provided for freedom of the children of slaves when they reached ages ranging from 18 to 28. In this way, parents who were enslaved for life saw their children become free. Their victory must have been bittersweet, filled with boy joy and agonizing frustration. As late as 1840, New Jersey still listed legally owned slaves on its census.

…Freedom did not, however, change the daunting work responsibilities of black women. They remained largely an unskilled work force. Under the southern slave system, women worked almost exclusively as agricultural laborers. A few found employment as domestics, and on rare occasion (especially during the war years) women worked at skilled tasks, such as spinning and weaving. But many more black men than women worked at skilled trades under slavery. …Most black women in towns and cities worked as laundresses. As the Pennsylvania Abolition Society reported in 1795, ‘The Women generally, both married and single, wash clothes for a living.’ This physically demanding job was no easier than fieldwork. Whatever their occupation, under both slavery and freedom women worked from dawn to dusk to support themselves and their families.

…In all urban centers blacks moved gradually into their own neighborhoods. At first they sought simple companionship, the opportunity to live among people who did not judge them as inferiors. Soon, however, they were establishing churches, schools, and charitable societies to help each other in their daily struggles for survival. Life in the urban North was difficult for black families, but for those who could live where they wanted and with whom they wanted for the first time, freedom made the daily struggle to survive worthwhile.

…The rise of a large free black population in the North aggravated racial tensions in both the North and South. White northerners no longer wanted to uphold a slave system, but for the most part their attitudes toward the newly freed slaves did not change. Racist feelings of superiority determined the treatment of blacks under both slavery and freedom. And as slavery became even more firmly entrenched in the South, explicitly racist arguments in favor of the institution were heard more and more. White southerners argued that blacks were intellectually incapable of caring for themselves and their families. They claimed that blacks were inherently lazy, dishonest, and foolish.

…With the end of legal slave importation in sight, the role of enslaved women as childbearers took on new importance. By the end of the 18th century slave owners understood that their slaves’ fertility increased their wealth and guaranteed the continued prosperity of their children. As Thomas Jefferson remarked, ‘I consider a woman who brings a child every two years as more profitable than the best man of the farm.’ This attitude became particularly prevalent in Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia, where planters began to encourage slaves to have large families as a way of making money.

…In other cases, white men coerced their female slaves into reproducing. Some women found themselves coupled with a man unwillingly, simply because the master said it was time for them to produce children. Many owners even raped their own slaves or forced them to become their mistresses. Tragically, most of these men later turned the offspring from these unions into slaves. The social system of the southern colonies and states frowned on men who acknowledged their sexual liaisons by granting freedom to their children. Even the slave owners who promoted stable family life took little trouble to ensure that families stayed together.

…Although some women practiced abortion and infanticide to deny owners additional human property, many more bore children as a means of self-affirmation. In African-American culture, as in the traditional societies of West Africa from which these people came, motherhood gave women personal fulfillment and high social status. As wives and mothers, they satisfied their own needs and the needs of black slave communities even more than the needs of owners. Enslaved families, however tortured, produced the means for individual slave survival.

Just as African-American women struggled to defend their families under slavery, Native American women attempted to protect their families from total destruction during the revolutionary era. The war was very hard on the eastern tribes, which suffered attacks from both English and Patriot troops. Some Indians tried to stay neutral, but the stance proved impossible to maintain. And no matter which side a tribe joined in the war, the enemy loomed near.

…Although the Iroquois survived, their culture, in many wars, did not. Peace found the Iroquois crowded on relatively small reservations, unable to follow the customs of the hunt, migration of town sites, warfare, and family relationships. As a people, they now questioned the validity of their traditions because they had fared so badly in their contests with Europeans. Many Iroquois came to despise their own culture as an inferior one without a place in a new world order.

Reservation life changed many aspects of Indian behavior. One important shift occurred in the division of labor between women and men. On reservations, men’s traditional labor--hunting and warfare--lost significance. Men continued to hunt, but game was scarce and became more so as the years passed. The men usually were able to provide their families with meat, but they no longer traded in furs. In addition, accepting peace on white men’s terms meant that warriors were acknowledging their inability to defend their families. As a result, political and religious leaders, as well as the warriors themselves, suffered greatly from shame.”

- Marylynn Salmon, “The Limits of Republicanism: Racial Conflicts in the North, South, and West.” in The Limits of Independence: American Women, 1760-1800

[rpgsandbox]

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/streetsofperil/streets-of-peril

Streets of Peril

A complete sword & sorcery TTRPG with a Renaissance setting and intuitive d6 dice pool system.

Streets of Peril is a complete sword and sorcery TTRPG. The game focuses on player-driven stories and features an innovative advancement system which rewards characters for pursuing their ambitions. The world is gritty and dangerous. Heroes are expected to set aside their differences and unite against the enemies of humanity.

While characters may explore strange places and ancient ruins, most stories revolve around urban environments. Streets of Peril can easily accommodate stories focused on mystery, politics, and horror. Characters are expected to shape the world around them, forever altering their city-state and the lands beyond. 

United by Magnus the Butcher, the Cimbrian people defeated their elven oppressors and founded a powerful empire. The elves have since vanished and faded into memory while the Cimbrian Empire has grown increasingly more fractured.  The proud nation which conquered the land and its abominations is now little more than a confederation of powerful city-states with little love for the descendants of Magnus.

Noble houses, trade guilds, mercenary companies, dark cults, and criminal societies compete for control of the city-states. These factions scheme against one another, employing violence when political maneuvering fails. While mankind quarrels in the pursuit of petty ambitions, an older enemy lurks in the darkness.

Elves and other malevolent forces abhor humanity. These eldritch things mindlessly devour mankind or carefully plot its destruction. Few recognize these supernatural terrors as anything more than fiction. Faced with forgotten horrors, most men are driven to despair and madness. Some heroes rise to the challenge, dispatching the supernatural with blade and blackpowder. 

Streets of Peril utilizes the Perilous D6 (PD6) dice pool system.  The use of dice colors helps to elegantly convey a character's competency or an item's effectiveness. White dice succeed on a result of 4+, red on a 3+, and black on a 2+. We are so confident that you will love Streets of Peril's mechanics that we are offering the PD6 rules system for free while the campaign is active.

The combat rules are inspired by historical European martial arts while remaining simple and intuitive.  Weapons and armor behave in a satisfying manner, reflecting their actual qualities. Exploding dice allow for fast and deadly combat encounters. 

Players assume the roles of brave landsknechts and suave swashbucklers. Characters may choose from one of the following classes:

Brute - Powerful fighter who relies upon athleticism, strength, and toughness to overcome enemies. Subclasses include the berserker, brawler, folk hero, and thug.

Cultist - Divine instrument of their patron, capable of commanding powerful magic. Subclasses include the priest, templar, and zealot.

Duelist - Skilled fencer who has learned secret swordplay techniques. Subclasses represent various schools of fencing influenced by actual historical martial arts.

Engineer - Brilliant inventor with access to weird science. An engineer's inventions are equal parts magic and science. 

Magister - Arcane practitioner capable of manipulating magic into spells. Subclasses include the alchemist, necromancer, seer, and wizard.

Man-at-arms - Professional soldier trained to coordinate with comrades and improve their performance.  Subclasses include the shock trooper, skirmisher and vanguard.

Scoundrel - Suave trickster with a diverse skillset. Subclasses include the assassin, burglar, highwayman, and rake.

Wayfarer - Talented marksman with varied survival skills. Subclasses include the explorer, scout, shadow stalker, and trophy hunter.

Characters declare ambitions upon creation and gain experience while pursuing or achieving these ambitions. A common ambition held by the party encourages the characters to cooperate. Streets of Peril  campaigns are driven by the players and stories are shaped as characters alter their world.

Experience is spent like currency, allowing players to develop their characters in a number of different ways between gaming sessions. Characters can advance existing skills, learn new skills, or acquire special abilities by spending experience. This allows for a great deal character customization.

Elemental forces govern the universe and these energies can be harnessed in a variety of ways.  The most dangerous arcane practice is spellcraft and it involves manipulating magic through sheer willpower. Casting spells is unpredictable and sometimes results in paranormal phenomenon known as aetheric manifestations. Examples of these manifestations include: raining frogs, spontaneous combustion, summoning demons, and miraculous healing.

Magic can also manifest in more predictable and controlled ways. This is often done by binding magic to items or through the brewing of potions. Witch finders who must battle rogue sorcerers and horrible monsters often collect potent magical devices to assist with their work. Miracles function similarly to spells though are borrowed by the cultist's patron and come with certain religious obligations. 

Finkelstein's Laboratory is a free starting adventure presented within the book. A nod to Mary Shelley's writing, the adventure features weird science and a flesh golem. This adventure is a great introduction to Streets of Peril and should hopefully inspire readers to devise adventures of their own.

We are already working on Streets of Peril's first supplement, Storms over Sturmburgh. This supplement will focus on a coastal Cimbrian city-state, thoroughly detailing its factions, key personalities, and important sites. The supplement will also include rules for naval battles and an expanded bestiary of maritime monsters. We hope to complete this supplement before 2024.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Mon, July 10 2023 3:00 PM BST

Website: [Broken Blade Publishing] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram]

[deewellsosd]

"Boyz n The Hood," directed by the late John Singleton (Rest in peace, legend 🙏🏾🕊️), dropped on the scene back on July 2, 1991, in Los Angeles.

The movie was a game-changer, giving us an unfiltered look into life in South Central Los Angeles. It followed the struggles of three young Black men as they dealt with violence, poverty, and all the messed-up systemic issues. Not only did it get love from the critics, but it also left a major mark on the world of Hip Hop.

1. Realness at its Finest:

"Boyz n The Hood" brought the authentic flavor of south central LA to life right to our screens. It didn't hold back on showing the gritty realities faced by young Black men, from violence to racism to the economic struggles. The raw representation hit home for Hip Hop heads who could relate to the movie's themes and stories.

2. Soundtrack:

Let's talk about the soundtrack, which played a huge part in the movie's impact on Hip Hop culture. They lined up some heavy hitters like Ice Cube, 2 Live Crew, Compton's Most Wanted, and Yo-Yo. The tunes captured the essence of the streets. The collab between the film and Hip Hop artists took it to the next level, giving talented musicians a platform to flex their skills and drop some truth.

3. Speaking Truth to Power:

"Boyz n The Hood" wasn't scared to tackle the real issues. They went all in, shining a light on police brutality, gang violence, and the struggle to survive in underserved communities. By facing these harsh realities head-on, the film sparked conversations about the messed-up injustices in the system and inspired people to demand change. Hip Hop, being born from the same streets and representing the voice of the marginalized, naturally connected with the movie's social commentary, hitting home for the Hip Hop community.

4. A Game-Changer in Filmmaking:

John Singleton burst onto the scene with "Boyz n The Hood," and it was a big deal for Black stories in mainstream cinema. The film's success showed that audiences were hungry for real narratives that reflected the lives of marginalized communities. Singleton opened doors for other filmmakers of color, sparking a whole new wave of storytelling that showcased the diversity and richness of urban culture. Hip Hop artists themselves took notice and started diving into the world of filmmaking to unleash their creativity and share their own stories.

5. A Legacy that Endures:

Over three decades later, "Boyz n The Hood" still holds it down as a cultural touchstone and a symbol of resilience. Its impact on Hip Hop culture continues to inspire artists and fans alike. The movie's themes of community, identity, and overcoming adversity hit deep, resonating with different generations. It's a reminder of the power of representation, social awareness, and the transformative impact that art can have.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Sorry not sure if it's okay to ask this, but do you have any reccs for fantasy or sci-fi books, other than the ones with Alina and the Darkling I mean?

It’s absolutely okay! That being said, I’m rather terrible at giving out blanket recommendations because I like to tailor to taste/what someone might be in the mood for. But here are a few things I liked in no particular order!

Book of Night by Holly Black

This is* Holly Black’s most recent, very highly anticipated release, and also her adult debut. It’s very on the radar lol but there was some negative rap surrounding it, that I actually found pretty surprising.

It’s a fairly slow building, character driven urban fantasy with a noirish tone. The premise is that the general populace has only recently learned that people’s shadows can be used to perform magic. The protagonist is a former teen-con-artist turned notorious thief in the magic world (stealing grimoires, magical artifacts, etc) who’s trying desperately to get her life in order. But then she finds herself dragged into the center of a mystery.

*was until literally two days ago, I forgot Stolen Heir exists

The Poppy War by R F Kuang

This series was probably my favorite read of 2021. It’s a sprawling fantasy drawing from Chinese history, with a protagonist loosely inspired by Mao Zedong. It’s notorious for being really dark and brutal, and it’s very well done but not a light read. That being said, I think there’s some uneven choices with the relationships development in the first book, and it has some debut clumsiness but overall it’s very good. And Kuang’s skill noticeably improves with every book.

Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter

I read this over five years ago so I’m not entirely certain how it holds up. But I remember it as a really fun urban fairy tale, bordering on surrealism. It’s a modern retelling of Vasalisa the Beautiful where the protagonist is sent out by her stepsister to buy lightbulbs at Babs Yags’ convenience store in the middle of the night, gets accused of shoplifting, and must prove her innocence by completing three impossible tasks or get *beheaded.* It’s just really weird and really fun.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

These are a fun set of novellas set in a cyberpunk dystopia. The protagonist “Murderbot” is a sentient android/cyborg owned by a bond company who sends it to protect contracted human research teams from potential threats. But Murderbot’s hacked itself so that it can do the bare minimum/spend the majority of its time watching television. The first book is really fast and imo the clumsiest of the bunch but it goes on to become a really interesting sci fi thriller as Murderbot embarks on a journey to unravel a corporate conspiracy and just figuring out personhood, who it is, and what it wants out of life, etc

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Sweeping historical set in alternate china with some magical elements. It’s billed as Mulan meets the Song of Achilles and it fits that description really well! The protagonist is a peasant girl living in abject poverty who, upon her brother’s suicide, steals his identity and hopefully his fortune, because while he was foretold to be “great” her fate was to be “nothing.” And she goes from taking refuge in a monastery, becoming ordained, to eventually joining the rebel forces that end up destroying the place, all in a bid to survive and achieve this ephemeral idea of greatness.

There’s also a foil protagonist/antagonist in a eunuch military commander, who, as a child, chose castration over death when the emperor demanded the eradication of all the men in his bloodline. And then, iirc, kept him on as a ward? And his struggle with filial duty to avenge them at the cost of his own wants and personal loyalties is fascinating. Overall this book explores gender, social roles, queerness, and misogyny in really interesting ways.

Empress of Salt and Fortune by Ngi Vo

It’s been awhile since I read this one too but it’s the first in a series of novellas. It’s told through a framing device, as a story told to another character. It’s again a sort of fantasy imperial china, about a foreign empress in a very unhappy marriage, shunned by everyone at court, and her relationship with her handmaiden. And their eventual scheme to overthrow her husband. These books are very short, and told in a leisurely fable-esque way, but I enjoy them a lot.

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

I know this is the internet darling right now, but unfortunately it is just as good as the hype. The first book is like a space opera spin on a country house murder mystery. The protagonist, a foundling on a desolate planet, wants nothing more than to escape and make her own life, and she’s given the chance to if she pretends to be her most despised childhood enemy/ruler’s personally sworn knight essentially— they call them cavalier’s in universe— and accompanies her on an unknown trial on another planet. And then things start going very wrong.

It’s billed as lesbian necromancers in space, and like, yeah that covers it! The subsequent two books get weirder with every installment and the fourth and last book’s not out yet, but overall this is a really solid series.

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

This one’s a space opera I’ve seen people calling economicspunk. The protagonist is a ruthless machiavellian type, intent on getting revenge on the empire that colonized and destroyed her homeland by clawing up the ranks. And though she’s relegated to an accountant, she intends to use that position to achieve her ends. There’s a lot of twisty political intrigue in this, though a large part of the conflict comes from her trying to survive as a lesbian in a brutally homophobic society.

The Diabolic by S J Kincaid

This is the absolute silliest of the bunch. But it’s probably my favorite YA series. It’s like space opera hamlet if ophelia was a super soldier. The protagonist is a “diabolic” genetically engineered to protect her charge at all costs, down to pretending to be her when she’s demanded at the (space!) emperor’s court. It’s ridiculous but fun, the second book is the best in the series imo, and the third book is… fine if rather weird. It’s an entertaining brain off kind of read.

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

Dutch's Bio

" I Had A Goddamned Plan ! "

Dutch seems to carry a philosophy similar to other characters in the Red Dead Redemption saga. Dutch has an anarchistic worldview and seems to want a world that goes somewhere along the lines of a Hunter-Gatherer Society, a world that opposes technology and governmental control where one must fight to survive but may also live the lifestyle they choose, free from any rules and regulations; a world where men live very much like they did in the old (idealized) Wild West. Dutch shows a common disgust and contempt for "cultured" towns like Blackwater or industrialized urban centers like Saint Denis as these locations serve as monuments to technological and industrial progression and government-enforced order, conformity, and peace, all of which Dutch violently opposes. Van der Linde considers technological and industrial progress as methods by which the federal government can exert authority and control over the general population, especially disenfranchised groups of people such as the Native Americans and those who live in poverty.

Dutch's philosophy is reactionary, desiring a return to the older ways. While the New West of the 20th century promotes clothing, technology, culture, and civilization, Dutch seems to want to move back to the Old West of the 19th century which promotes survival, discipline, resourcefulness, and fitness by using skill and courage to overcome hardship. As the culture in the west progresses towards a modernist view that praises and rewards forced conformity, incorporation, order, and employment on a large societal scale, Van der Linde would prefer people to remain civilized where they are and allow the Old West to survive in the way to which it has grown accustomed, and if the Federal Government will not allow him or his people to live their lives the way they wish, he will fight for his perceived right to live as he wishes.

It should be noted that Dutch's heavy emphasis on personal values such as liberty, equality, cultural tolerance, and natural law aligns with Enlightenment ideas that encompassed the Age of Enlightenment movement during the 18th century. Many of the models and theories proposed during this time are currents of thought that Dutch frequently uses to share his beliefs. Van der Linde is particularly a frequent user of the Social Contract, which is an enlightenment examination model used to highlight how individuals in a society surrender their freedoms to a higher power or authority. Dutch's worldview states that law and political order are neither natural nor dependent on government and that human rights are universal and inalienable. Dutch often laments that in the increasingly-modernized America, individual rights and freedoms must be sacrificed to an authority he views as greedy, dishonest, exploitative, and prejudiced. The Old West is the perfect environment for a society based on natural rights, which is why Dutch violently opposes anything that threatens to end this way of life.

In 1899, Dutch is an average-built man of approximately 6 feet in height he has tanned skin, a large roman nose, brown eyes, and a cleft chin. Along with a thick, black mustache, soul patch surrounded by light stubble, and black, slick-backed hair that curls at the end, reaching his nape. He is always seen in elegant suits or fancy clothing, most often wearing a white and grey striped shirt, charcoal grey striped trousers with pointed black leather boots, an ornate black paisley waistcoat with blood-red silk back, and a matching red pocket square, it has glittering gold buttons and is decorated with a gold pocket-watch with twin chains and ruby pendant. Along with a smart black moleskin jacket with a red pocket square, leather notch lapels, and a black felt homburg hat with a silk band. He also wears a chunky black gun belt with a square gold buckle, twin holsters, and two ornate gold rings, one on his pinkie and another with a large rectangular face on his forefinger. He also owns a red and cream plaid scarf which he wears both for warmth and as a bandana. During the Saint Denis bank robbery, he wears a gleaming white shirt, red velvet vest, and black slacks with a long, black tailcoat complete with red silk lining. While stranded in Guarma, his appearance becomes unkempt: his mustache becomes scruffy and long, he develops thick stubble around his face, and his tailcoat is lost, while his white shirt and red waistcoat that he wore for the robbery become loose, dirty, and tattered. After returning to the United States, Dutch's appearance returns to what it was before.

[hewholivesinhisname]

Urban Survivalism

So it looks like my new GF is going to save me. If she doesn't another woman will. It feels good to have achieved a level of social skills where random women offer sex in exchange for pizza. Babetron 7000 has promised that in exchange for love and devotion she will set me up in her family's construction 🏗️ company.

In addition it looks likey idea for building a life extension hospital 🏥 is gaining traction in at least one section of the life extension community. This is good. It means someone might give me lots of money to do the things I really want which is to make society much better than it is even if it is only for the snotty rich kids at first.

Up until now though my life has been a living fucking hell because when you can't earn money being a neuroscience major and my mental illness and my families' complete lack of support has meant I had to survive on the street.

Boston is a good city to be homeless. I resent that these Harvard kids can't end it here but it is a better place than many because there are many churches with meals shelters and food stamps are given out.

I have all these mental health tics too that make me look really weird and as we all know weirdness = evil in the eyes of the majority. Weakness really equals evil now doesn't it if people are looking to predate on people. Why are we surprised at all the pedophiles again? Let's not get side tracked though

Gabi my wonderful gay social worker has been great! Thank God for the queers. She has taken care of me and got me a tent when all the men and women in my life just said fuck you. I think there is a strong connection between queerness and wanting to take care of all the babies already here.

MGH hospital has two days where they help out the homeless and that is where I got my phone. During the day I spend time in the libraries.

I do not believe that Utopia is optional and the reason is that I would not be alive without the desire to make a better society with the top utopian probably being the Jewish and Christian god. Thanks 👍 God!

If you find yourself homeless a tent is a good option and stay the fuck away from other homeless people. Many are downright dangerous. My stuff was stolen the first month I was homeless.

Having someone with money romantically into you will save you. That is what I have learned. Jobs will not and the reason is that they don't pay enough. Those with money are not interested in solving homelessness. They want a return of the middle ages, but with less wizards and more serfs.

I still want kids but I now want to adopt. There are too many kids and adults not taken care of. I might have some lined up with my friend Rebecca who has like 4 kids and her house burned down. We will see what Babetron says. Adopt mom and kids together? Sounds good 😊

Psychological survival means willing to do degrading things but not get bothered by it like eat from trashcans. If you are a woman a job may be more feasible of course because the men who run things will hire women but rarely other men.

Why can't we get public housing? I don't know Europe has more. It will still be inadequate though because there is too many people all of a sudden. Especially with climate change.

A lot of this is masons...I think. The cops board up old houses and I don't know why. I think the real reason is that people are suing one another to get money after being injured in these houses. If on the other hand you are on the street and you get mentally ill and die from drugs. That is not a problem according to the law.

Why can't we have a more well run Earth? I don't know I really don't. But I really want one wherein shit like this doesn't happen. Bit seems kind of hopeless though because far worse things happen on a regular basis.

If you find yourself homeless though sure you don't look it. And definitely do not hold up signs saying "help" or "will work". It doesn't fucking work. Expect to be criminalized for existing while real criminals go uncaught and unmolested so long as they have money. It's a violent world out there friends.

During this time I actually have met many interesting people including priests, monks, interesting mentally ill folks, Robyn the best navigator and angriest person I know, got closer to God, read much more bible and watched free plays and went to museums.

It is my conviction to have a life that saved me I think....there is free wifi as well. Be wary of people though and count on your friends and family to say fuck you.

[jackcollier7]

Time to Build a Recovery

Time to Build a Recovery

 when you’re not at work weekends are seven days long

Today, as the whole pointless lockdown begins to be eased, the British economy is in a worse state than it was during the Great Depression of the 1930’s.  Officially there are 2,100,000 unemployed in Britain today, but that is an utter fiction.  There are also more than 11 million people being paid by the governments furlough scheme, a half a…

[warriormonkus]

Everything is going to be OK

Everything is going to be OK

Worrying will never change the outcome.

~

Some of your griefs you have cured

And the sharpest you still have survived

But what torments of pain you endured

From evils that never arrived

Ralf Waldo Emerson

~

jack collier

jackcollier7@talktalk.net

[shamandrummer]

Remembering AIM Co-Founder Clyde Bellecourt

A few days ago, we lost an icon of our time. Clyde Howard Bellecourt (May 8, 1936 – January 11, 2022) was a Native American civil rights organizer. An Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) activist from the White Earth Reservation, he co-founded the American Indian Movement (AIM) in Minneapolis in 1968 with Dennis Banks, Eddie Benton-Banai and George Mitchell. For years, Bellecourt worked to address issues of poverty and police brutality against Native people. He remained active throughout his long life, eventually becoming a strong advocate for eliminating offensive sports mascots. His Anishinaabe name, Nee-gon-we-way-we-dun, means "Thunder Before the Storm."

Under Bellecourt's leadership, AIM raised awareness of tribal issues related to the federal government, monitored police harassment in Minneapolis, created welfare programs for urban Indians, and founded Indian "survival schools" in the Twin Cities to teach children life skills and to help them learn their traditional cultures. He initiated the Trail of Broken Treaties, a long march to Washington, D.C., in 1972 to serve as a first step to renegotiating federal-tribal nations' treaties and relations. In addition, he founded non-profit groups to undertake economic development to benefit Native Americans.

He became a negotiator at the occupation of Wounded Knee on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, the site of an infamous 1890 massacre of more than 300 Lakota by the U.S. Cavalry. The Wounded Knee Occupation began on February 27, 1973 when about 200 Oglala Lakota and followers of AIM seized and occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota. The occupation lasted for a total of 71 days, during which time two Lakota men were shot to death by federal agents and several more were wounded. It was a key moment in the struggle for Native American rights.

In 1993, Bellecourt and others led protests against police brutality in Minneapolis when two intoxicated Native men were driven to the hospital in the trunk of a squad car. Bellecourt continued to direct national and international AIM activities. He coordinated the National Coalition on Racism in Sports and the Media, which has long protested sports teams use of Native American mascots and names, urging them to end such practices; the Washington Redskins finally dropped their mascot in 2020 in response to years of protests. He also led Heart of the Earth, Inc., an interpretive center located behind the site of AIM's former "survival school," which operated from 1972 to 2008 in Minneapolis.

Bellecourt died of cancer on January 11, 2022, at the age of 85. At the time of his death, Bellecourt was the last surviving co-founder of the American Indian Movement. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz stated, "Clyde Bellecourt sparked a movement in Minneapolis that spread worldwide. His fight for justice and fairness leaves behind a powerful legacy that will continue to inspire people across our state and nation for generations to come." According to Minnesota Lt. Governor Peggy Flanagan, Bellecourt was a "civil rights leader who fought for more than a half-century on behalf of Indigenous people in Minnesota and around the world. Indian Country benefited from Clyde Bellecourt's activism."

[rederiswrites]

Feel free to ignore this if you want but you post interested me. I don't disagree about what you said re: fiberartists in the apocalypse but there are some notable reasons why they're still somewhat useful? If you're stationary they become a lot less useful more quickly, they use up most faber materials unless you keep livestock but idk enough about livestock to think out how practical that is off the top of my head. However not all clothes, especially not most of the clothes worn by people in their physical prime (in the western world and some industrialized nations) is actually of that high a quality. Fast fashion is a big industry and people are going to need replacements faster than you think if they're clothes are suddenly enduring the physical labor of apocalypse survival. Not to mention that cleanliness is crucial to not dying so there will need to be at least a small amount of clothes to cycle for people who can't wash it everyday. If you're moving there's always the possibility of gathering fiber material, a higher chance of trading with others, but also a higher chance of chaffing of the cloth being a more immediate problem. Then there's the question of other vital cloth items, such as bags and blankets, and the ability to make something out of flag flexible material to meet other unexpected situations likely has a bit of value on its own. Now, people who can sew and sewing machines (if you can get one that doesn't require electricity, I'm not sure) are probably the most cost effective fiber artists and tools. You can find pocket sewing kits at every drug store so thread isn't an issue, and reported olf cloth from MASSIVE catches at clothing stores, rather than hitting up the much smaller yarn or raw fiber sections that you'll find less reliably in cities.

So in conclusion: not all fiber artists are equal in this situation, but their value is pretty far up there behind realiable food sources for people who dream of running a peaceful group, because of the advantages of being able transform some of the most abundant materials in urban environments into tradeable goods. As an individual sewer, with this sales pitch, you might even be able to join a more organized group because of these services, and the ability to teach the valuable skills to others.

Hope you find this as fun to talk about as I do!

Oh I am absolutely going to find this fun to talk about; thank you for a great, engaging ask.

First, I wanna establish that I have mad respect for fiber artists of all sorts. I've spent my life around them, from my mom to a lot of my friends to, I guess you'd call them professional associates? I can do basic garment construction and I'm pretty good at embroidery, but even though I'm used to picking up crafts easily, things like knitting and crochet really elude me. So, again, mad respect.

Second, I am not an expert here. I have approximate knowledge of many things. I know the things I'm about to talk about because I encountered them along the way, not because I've studied it. Any actual experts who wish to chime in would be extremely welcome. Also, since my interest has been in medieval Europe, that's what I know. I would love to know more about other cultures. I'm just assuming that the basic necessities of the subject are applicable across many cultures.

Let's back up. A lot.

Here's a great French manuscript image from the mid 1400's. It illustrates a lot of things relevant to the conversation. So what's going on here?

First, we've got high born ladies involved in these activities. Everyone was, regardless of social status. Before the advent of powered looms and spinning machines (ca. 1770-1790), the textile industry was an all-consuming activity that most women and many men spent part or all of their time on. We watch tv. They made textiles. The difference with the highborn ladies is they probably got nicer materials, like imported silks and expensive dyestuffs.

Second, there are many people involved in the many steps. We've got the lady in pink with the hackles/combs doing the initial aligning and cleaning of the fibers. Lady in white is carding the wool, which is the next and finer prep stage, using brushes that look a lot like a cat brush, but bigger. Lady in red is spinning the fiber thus processed with a drop spindle, which is a super slow way to do it and a real bottleneck in the textile process. Which is why in so many images of women in the fields/literally anywhere, they have their distaff and spindle. They just did it all the damn time. And the queen is obviously weaving. There are also steps both before (rearing and shearing or growing, harvesting, and retting) and after (dyeing and fulling) these.

Textiles, as far back as I know anything about, were an entire industry, involving many unrelated people and international trade. Not often, even in, say, Mesopotamia, were they a cottage industry performed beginning to end by one person or group. This is because that was wildly impractical, always. And would be wildly impractical in our theoretical post-industrial future, as well.

Okay, never can resist a history lesson but hopefully that'll tide me over for now.

Uhh...what's next? Mobility! So actually I'm gonna go totally opposite you on this one--in a theoretical situation where we're still all roaming around as refugees, very few fiber artists would be of much use at all. The sheer amount of material needed is...a lot. Knitters and crocheters can at least carry their tools around, but even a regular scarf might take as much as three skeins of yarn. At least two for socks. You can get a hat out of one, depending on the yarn, but a sweater? At least four, maybe six. You can see how that gets to be a really big Santa sack there. And that's assuming the pre-existence of the yarn. (Which is actually fair, every knitter ever has an out of control yarn stash.) Fortunately, I don't think we'd roam about as refugees for decades. That's just a pretty untenable situation long-term, as lots of refugees can confirm.

So. You CAN use old treadle sewing machines for garment construction. I even know people who bring them to events to finish commissions or do tailoring without power. But they are heavy and bulky, like, a lot. And some nomadic cultures have made fabric with portable backstrap looms, but they're slow and physically demanding. Most looms, as you can see above, are really big and not even remotely portable.

And creating the fiber, saving the sudden re-emergence of entire pastoral herding societies (in a world which no longer has large stretches of grazing land), absolutely demands long term stability. Flax produces one crop a year. Sheep get sheared once a year. And so on. Collecting fiber as you go has, so far as I know, never been the way a culture has obtained textile materials. Nature on its own mostly produces fiber that's good for like, cordage or netted bags, that sort of thing. Useful, but not about clothing.

Anyway omg I need to do things besides this ask this is so long. Final point: my husband and I, my anecdotal evidence for how long clothing lasts when you actually wear it out, actually DO perform dirty physical labor on the regular. Jacob is a blacksmith and is out in the shop nearly every night. He spent the weekend in the woods with a chainsaw. And I take care of chickens, ducks, and sheep daily, and during the warmer months, extensive gardening projects. We live on a 24 acre farm. Jacob has bought like six t-shirts in maybe the entire time we've been together (nearly 20 years), and all of those are in the special drawer for going out. At home, he wears pretty exclusively t-shirts from high school and freebies from groups and events. At work, he wears thrift store dress shirts and the annual nice shirts his mom gives him for Christmas. (She skipped that this year and I gotta tell her she can't be doing that or her son will go to meetings with stained collars lol.)

UGH TL;DR: People buy vastly more clothing than they need, hardly ever wear it out, and could manage with the surplus for decades. Meanwhile, creating textiles is an incredibly involved task, and before the industrial revolution it consumed vast amounts of everyone's time, and would do so again in a theoretical post-industrial world. Fiber artists are badasses and I love them but even the ones who focus specifically on creating wearable fabric (which is very few) consider the creation of a complete outfit to be a major project.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Howlin’ For You – Drabble

I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for months now and decided to just finally give in a write it. 

Some protective Biker!Dad!Bucky and a wee bit of Amelia

Bucky and Amelia were driving back from school.

By some miracle, Bucky knew enough not to pick her up on his motorcycle. He learned the hard way that that his daughter was starting to find it embarrassing. There once was a time – when she was still a kid and not a teenager – that Amelia thought it was cool that her dad drove a motorcycle.

Now she was embarrassed by it. The comments about how hot her dad was didn’t go unnoticed by Amelia and made her want to throw up. She also just hated unwarranted attention of any kind.

Bucky had been asking Amelia about her day when his cell started ringing.

“It’s mom,” Amelia said, seeing the screen before him.

He picked it up right away. “Hey, doll.”

“Are you guys too close to home? I realized I forgot a couple of things for dinner. Would you mind stopping by the store for me real quick?”

“Yep. Just text me what you need. Me and Amelia will grab it.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Y/N answered before hanging up.

“Mom forget to buy ingredients again?” Amelia smirked.

“Yep,” Bucky chuckled. “Mind running in and grabbing it if I give you my card?”

She nodded. 

A few minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of Whole Foods.

Amelia jumped out.

“Hey,” Bucky grabbed her attention before she could run in. She paused. “Buy some flowers for your ma, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “What kind?”

“The prettiest ones,” Bucky told her with a chuckle.

Amelia scoffed, “That’s helpful…”

She pretended to be grossed out and annoyed by her parent’s loving marriage and partnership. But she also saw how different it was from her friends’ parents, who all seemed to hate each other.

Bucky watched his daughter walk towards the entrance.

But his attention quickly averted to the group of young men that were loitering just outside the entrance. All of their gazes were fixed on Amelia, ogling her body up and down.  

If his window hadn’t been down, Bucky might’ve missed the disgusting catcalling that was aimed at his daughter.

His grip immediately tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.

If Amelia had heard it, she pretended not to and continued on walking.

Bucky wondered when she learned the womanly skill of ignoring the disgusting behavior of men. 

He hated that she had to. He also hated that she was only 15 and men were already targeting her as if she was a grown woman. They had to be in their early 20s, which only infuriated Bucky even further.

‘Breathe, Bucky. Just breathe.’ That’s what Y/N would tell him if she were here right now. She’d try to calm him down and prevent him from doing anything rash.

But she wasn’t here and Bucky’s anger was getting the best of him.

Before he could change his mind, Bucky shoved his car door open and slammed it shut behind him.

His walk alone was murderous. And it caught the attention of one of the guys. He hit his friends’ chests and nodded toward Bucky, grabbing everyone else’s attention.

“Hey! What did you just say to her?” Bucky asked.

He’d give them a chance to look guilty for their actions, to immediately realize that what they’d just done was wrong.

But they weren’t that smart.

However, they did seem to know what he was talking about and started laughing amongst themselves.

“Why don’t you fuck off, old man?” One of them muttered without looking Bucky in the eye and turned his back on him, bringing his attention back to his friends who were laughing again.

It only made Bucky’s anger worse.

Alright. He’d tried it Y/N’s way. And that didn’t work.

Now it was his way.

Bucky grabbed the one who had talked back to him and slammed him against the car they were all standing near.

“Hey! Hey! Whoa, man! Chill the fuck out!” One of the friends panicked.

They weren’t so tough now, realizing that even though they were outnumbered, this stranger was taller and stronger than they were. It probably didn’t ease their panic that they saw a knife attached to the back of his waist on his jeans. 

“How old do you think that girl was?” Bucky hissed, his grip on the shirt tightening.  

His voice and tone were disturbingly relaxed. Through his military training and being around too many alpha males, Bucky learned that the man with the most control and composure always came out on top.

“I-I-I don’t know, man! 21?” The guy stuttered, eyes wide with fear.

Bucky slammed against the car again. “She’s 15 years old.”

“How was I supposed–”

“It doesn’t matter how old she is,” Bucky snapped. “No girl or woman wants to be catcalled. Do you understand me?”

The guy just stared up at Bucky, hoping that he wasn’t going to get hurt.

“I said, do you understand me?” Bucky repeated, annoyance evident in his voice.

The guy nodded his head quickly, realizing that showing his understanding was the only way he was going to survive this interaction unscathed.

Bucky released him roughly and then turned to acknowledge the boy’s friends.

“You idiots ever heard of the Howling Commandos?”

They all looked at each other and gave one another a reluctant nod. 

Everyone in the area had heard of the biker gang in some way or another. Some people knew they existed and others were convinced they were just an urban legend.

“If I or any one of them ever see you talk to another woman that way again, I think you can imagine what’ll be in store for you.” Bucky tilted his head and raises his eyebrows, offering them the chance to make the mistake of asking him to elaborate. 

With that, he slowly walked back to his car.

As soon as his back was turned to the guys, they all scrambled to get into their car and make a run for it.

A few minutes later, Amelia was practically skipping back to the car.

“I got mom a bouquet of Dahlias. I feel like their weird and creepy, so she’ll like them.”

Bucky chuckled. “Good choice.” He was trying his best to act like nothing happened. 

He knew how much Amelia got freaked out when Bucky turned all biker on the world. 

If Amelia noticed her dad acting more tense, she didn’t comment on it.

But Y/N, however, wasn’t one to let things go unacknowledged.

When Y/N and Bucky were finally alone in their bed at the end of the night, she asked him what was going on.

Bucky reluctantly told her about his little altercation.

“Should I talk to Amelia?” He asked her.

Y/N sighed. “It’s not about talking to Amelia or teaching her anything. It’s about making the world a safer place for her. And you know how you do that?” She asked him gently with an encouraging smile.

“Huh?”

“By raising boys to know better. And I think we did a pretty good job with the twins, don’t you think?”

Bucky shrugged. “If I ever heard the boys say those things to a woman…” he got angry just thinking about it.

“They would never, Bucky. You know that.” Y/N defended.

He knew Y/N was right. But he was grumpy and pissed off, quite frankly. Owen and Grayson were just two young men out of millions. It didn’t really feel like much of an impact to Bucky. It was other people’s sons that he was worried about – not his own.

A moment of silence passed between them.

“You feel helpless, right? Like you can’t control what other people do?” Y/N asked.

Bucky nodded, realizing that’s exactly how he felt.

“What you are experiencing is minuscule to what every woman feels like every day of her life.”

Bucky blinked as he processed what she meant. “I’m sorry, doll.”

She chuckled and laid her head on her husband’s chest. “You don’t have to be sorry, Buck. Plus, ‘sorry’ isn’t going to stop other men from being misogynistic assholes.”

He brushed her hair out of her face and off her neck. His hand then moving to rub her back. 

In minutes, she was fast asleep.

But Bucky couldn’t find rest so easily. All the women in his life taught him different things about the way the world saw and treated women. He just never expected his daughter to be the one to teach him another lesson.

---------

I missed writing for Howlin’ For You, so there ya go. 

[mpanighetti]

Halloween Zero-to-Thirty Challenge Rating Challenge

October 9th Prompt: Pumpkin Spice

Art by boi_global!

Barista Dryad (Challenge 8)

Lore

Most dryads act as sworn protectors of the forests they inhabit, preventing incursion by the men of the world who would exploit the land for personal gain. Their lives are intrinsically tied to their trees, and as long as the forest thrives, so too do the dryads. The death of the forest will mark the end of a dryad's otherwise unending lifespan.

On very rare occasion, a dryad can endure the encroachment of man and persist through the gentrification of its forest. Her tree might be spared from destruction and used as urban decoration, or structures might be built around it and incorporate the trunk into their designs. In these cases, the dryad's forest pledge will shift to instead support the city's economy.

If the dryad is extremely unlucky, she might be conscripted in this manner to work at a café, becoming a barista dryad. The dryad will do her best to ensure the success of the business in order to keep her tree alive, but this forced servitude tends to create spite and anger, leading to a mischievousness in how she carries out her duties to the shop.

Barista protest comes most often by "accidentally" messing up drink orders, but a dryad takes it to another level by infusing the sugary flavor additions with magical poison to corrupt the beverage. Beings that survive might have their faculties compromised, allowing the dryad a limited form of control over their actions. Strangely, this does little to prevent people from buying terrible overpriced coffee drinks.

Particularly mischievous dryads might use their fey ability to take the names of others during the drink order. A creature who willingly gives their name for the order and drinks the dryad's flavored beverage will find itself with a corrupted misspelling of its own name, and be cursed to keep that name until it can make a deal with the dryad to be restored. A dryad might use this influence over her customers to build a group of loyal subjects with which she can overthrow the coffee shop and reclaim control of her tree and domain.

Attributes

Medium fey, lawful neutral

Armor Class: 16 (natural armor)

Hit Points: 130 (20d8 + 40)

Speed: 30 ft.

STR: 12 (+1)

DEX: 18 (+4)

CON: 15 (+2)

INT: 13 (+1)

WIS: 18 (+4)

CHA: 22 (+6)

Saving Throws: INT +4, WIS +7, CHA +9

Skills: Nature +4, Sleight of Hand +7

Senses: passive Perception 13

Languages: Common, Elvish, Sylvan

Challenge: 8 (3,900 XP)

Proficiency Bonus: +3

Special Traits

Innate Spellcasting. The dryad’s innate spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 17). The dryad can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components:

At will: druidcraft, poison spray

3/day each: chaos bolt, entangle, ray of sickness

1/day each: circle of death, counterspell, dominate beast, enervation

Magic Resistance. The dryad has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects.

Magic Weapons. The dryad’s weapon attacks are magical.

Tree Stride. Once on her turn, the dryad can use 10 feet of her movement to step magically into one living tree within her reach and emerge from a second living tree within 120 feet of the first tree, appearing in an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the second tree. Both trees must be Large or bigger.

Actions

Quarterstaff. Melee Weapon Attack: +9 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 10 (1d8 + 6) bludgeoning damage.

Cinnamon Challenge. The dryad blows a handful of cinnamon in a 30-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 16 Constitution saving throw.

On a failed save, a creature takes 13 (3d8) fire damage and erupts into a coughing fit. While coughing, the creature is incapacitated. At the end of the creature's turn, it can end the coughing fit by succeeding on a DC 13 Constitution saving throw. Creatures that don't have to breathe air are unaffected by the cinnamon.

Flair (3/Day). The dryad magically charms all creatures within 30 feet who gave her their true names or are currently poisoned by her drink. While charmed in this manner, a creature regards the dryad as a trusted friend to be heeded and protected. Although the target isn't under the dryad's control, it takes the dryad's requests or actions in the most favorable way it can.

Each time the dryad or her allies do anything harmful to the target, it can end the charm effect on itself by succeeding on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw. Otherwise, the effect lasts 24 hours or until the dryad dies, is on a different plane of existence from the target, or ends the effect as a bonus action. After the effect ends, the target is immune to the dryad's Flair for the next 24 hours, unless it gave the dryad its true name.

Flavor Pump. The dryad causes one nonmagical drink within 5 feet to be poisoned. A drink poisoned in this manner takes on a random sweet flavor which magically obscures the poison from detection. A creature that ingests the drink must succeed on a DC 14 Constitution saving throw or become poisoned for 1 hour. Roll on the Flavor Pump table to determine the poisoned drink's additional effect. Ingesting multiple drinks will potentially stack multiple effects but does not change the duration of the poisoned condition.

Flavor Pump (d10 table)

1: Almond. The poisoned creature is disoriented for 1 minute or until it takes damage. At the start of each of its turns, the disoriented creature spends all its movement to move in a random direction until it reaches a barrier. If the movement would put it in dangerous terrain (such as a precipice or caltrops), it can stop its movement before entering that space by succeeding on a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw.

2: Caramel. The poisoned creature is stunned for 1 minute. At the end of each of its turns, it can end the stunned condition by succeeding on a DC 12 Constitution saving throw.

3: Cinnamon Dolce. The poisoned creature takes 22 (5d8) fire damage, and it is knocked prone.

4: Coconut. The poisoned creature is deafened for 10 minutes or until it takes damage. While deafened in this manner, the creature is unable to use verbal components for casting spells.

5: Gingerbread. The poisoned creature is blinded for 10 minutes or until it takes damage.

6: Hazelnut. The poisoned creature is unconscious from a magical slumber for 1 minute, until it takes damage, or until another creature uses an action to wake it up.

7: Mocha. The poisoned creature is hyper for 1 minute. While hyper in this manner, it is under the effects of the haste spell (no concentration required). When the creature is no longer hyper, it suffers one level of exhaustion.

8: Peppermint. The poisoned creature takes 14 (4d6) cold damage, and its movement speed is halved for 1 minute.

9: Pumpkin Spice. The poisoned creature has an intense craving for the dryad's drinks for 1 minute or until it consumes another dryad drink. While in this state, it must spend its entire turn seeking out and consuming these drinks. At the end of each of its turns, it can end the craving by succeeding on a DC 13 Wisdom saving throw.

10: Vanilla. The poisoned creature rolls on a Wild Magic Surge table.

[id: monster stat block for barista dryad, depicting a sullen dryad with bags under her eyes, wearing matching green visor and apron depicting the logo for "Siren Song Coffee", with green hair with flowers blooming inside, tattoo-like bark growing from her arms, holding a spilling coffee cup and ground beans]

[Original prompt]

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan  @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption​ @capricorn-stark​ @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer @buticaaba​