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bandgie · 10 months

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Predator & Prey

a/n: this is the second chapter!

2.7k words

The beast flew in the sky happily, easily maneuvering around the tall trees. You stayed on the ground, walking as you tried to maintain some of your body heat. You would occasionally look up at the flying creature, noticing how ecstatic he was to be free. He must've been in there for a long time, you thought. Though you had endured horrible circumstances here, leaving a dead pile of bodies behind you, at least you managed to make one person happy.

The creature slowed down its flight, aiming down for a soft landing besides you. You still hadn't gotten used to its nakedness, you did not acknowledge its presence near you besides a small nod of your head.

"The village won't be too far from here," he tells you, eyes looking at the side of your head. You nod, "Good. I don't think I can handle being in the snow much longer." The creature hums, clawed hand rubbing its chin.

"I still never understood how man can be on top of the food chain despite being so weak," it speaks, "As far as I'm aware, it's slower that and weaker than the bigger animals here. It can barely manage to catch a bunny, and it cannot maintain its own heat for long. Man is hardly capable of living it seems."

You can tell he's trying to irk you, despite saving you less than 30 minutes ago. Instead you shoot back, "Well, man managed to catch you. Guess you're no better than a bunny."

You look at its dark eyes with a playful smile on your face. It sneers at your response and takes flight, snow hitting you on the way up.

For the remainder of the time, it ignores you until you see a faint light of fire. Getting closer, you can see the outlines of houses and hear the soft chatter of cattle.

You stop in your tracks, looking up in the sky for the monster to see what you needed from. You spot him on a nearby tree, eyeing the village with caution.

"Listen, prey, you are to find something suitable for the winter. Find decent food to keep yourself full, our journey is not over," he doesn't look at you as he speaks. You're too cold to shoot back, so you listen to his instructions and take your first few steps into the village.

It's smaller than you had originally though, and emptier. Save for the cattle, there was practically no soul here. You could tell there were people though, the lanterns were lit and there were stands with fresh meat and wool. How you were going to obtain all the things you need without anything to give was the million dollar question, but you knew what would be easiest.

Steal.

You yanked the cloth of the stands, running into the butcher shop to steal some meat. No one was keeping much of an eye on their stands, so it took a good few couple of seconds before you could hear them yelling. You bursts into the meat store, grabbing what your hands could manage trying to ignore the store owner's screaming.

You quickly exited the store, your ruckus was starting to wake up the village. People peeked their head out of their window and others even walked out of their house to see what was going on. It was embarrassing, especially when you had two big men and women that were most likely their wives chasing after you.

Adrenaline rushed in your veins as you continued your crime, grabbing a pair of wool trousers on your way out of the village. You ran into the forrest, the two couples not that far off your tail. Fuck, you think, I can't run with all this shit.

Just as you debate on dropping some of the items, a gust of wind blows past you. A whirl of leaves and snow create a wall between you and your chasers. You turn around to look at the conjured all, mouth agape.

"You fool, keep running!"

So you do, listening to the voice you know belong to the beast. It wasn't long until you could hear the couples screaming, but you still don't turn around.

"It's a demon!" "Devil's spawn! Go back from where you dwell incubus!" "Beast!" "Monster!"

You ignore all of what they say about your companion, running until your chest burns and feet give out. You fall into a soft pile of snow, chest heaving as you find comfort on plush coldness. The snow burns to the touch, but you're so tired that you're tempted to close your eyes and sleep.

The loud sound of flapping prevents that though, you sit up to find the creature not too far from you. You reach and grab the coat you stole, putting it on. You rub your upper arms with your hands, trying to get some blood circulation going. You eyes spot the trousers you stole. You reach for them and chuck it at the beast.

"Head up," you saw, and he catches it with ease. He grimaces at the clothing, as if it's the worse thing he's ever seen. "I will not wear your human clothes," its voice stern.

"Dude, I really don't wanna see your ding-a-ling swinging around," you tell him. "I dunno what type of...animal you are, but being a incubus doesn't give an excuse to-"

"Do not call me that, insolent human," it growls. It stalks closer to you, eyes narrowing on your form. "I saved you from those men, the cold, and from those villagers, You repay me by cursing my being and making me use my precious energy?"

You cower in fear, you stand no chance against a super being like him.

"I am called Nyryx, do not make the mistake of calling me anything else."

You nod, bottom lip quivering from fear and the cold. He looks at you a beat longer before rolling his eyes. Nyryx huffs exaggeratedly as he puts the trousers on, scrunching his nose as the wool touches his skin. He manages to get his bird feet though the holes, adjusting the top part at his waist. It fits.

He looks back at you, arms crossed. "Start a fire, you cannot eat raw meat. Not that I have to tell you that."

You gather some nearby sticks, ignoring how intense Nyryx's gaze is. He's judging you, silently. Are you grabbing enough sticks? Can these even be burned? How the hell can you start a fire in winter? You have a decent size pile before you look over at him, "I don't know how to start a fire."

He groans, "You are like a child. Not much better than a suckling on its mother's breast."

You cross your arms and shake your head, it's better to ignore his words. He crouches and arranges the sticks so it's in a teepee form. You watch and he bends down, mouth open as he breathes fire from his mouth. You gasp, taking a step away from the small flame the begins to come to life.

He stands back up, eyeing you. He's waiting for your reaction. What will you call him? Will you run? Curse him? Damn him to hell? Nyryx has been shunned for what he is all his life, his own parents cursing him. He balls his hands into a fist and unclenches his hand. He should not expect you to be any different. All humans are the same.

"Holy shit. So you're like a dragon?" you ask, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I've ever been called that. But no, dragons don't have magic like I."

"Magic," you repeat. Nyryx can't help but notice that way you say it, like it's unbelievable and impossible. What type of world have you come from?

He nods, "Yes. I'm aware that you're in need of a portal. I can conjure such thing, but I'm not at my strongest."

Your eyes gleam with hope, you could feel them start to water. Home, it sounds so close yet so far. Your emotion get the best of you, small tears fall down your cold cheeks. You can go home.

Before you have the chance to wipe them, Nyryx stands in front of you. His hands clasp the side of your face before he leans down, tongue poking out to taste your tears. You squeal at his hot tongue, smacking his chest. Memories come back of him licking your face when you had killed the Lord. You originally thought it's how he showed his thanks for opening the cage, but now you think it was a snack for him.

He pulls away, long tongue licking his lips. Nyryx suddenly lets your face go, leaving your body cold from his lack of touch.

"Fluids from creatures is not just a source of food, but power. The stronger the emotion, the more power I obtain. If I am to open the portal, you need to find me this food," he tells you.

You wipe your face from his salvia, nodding. "Any creature? Like animals?" He nods. It was a lot to take in, you assume fear would be the most influential emotion. You take a deep breath, you can do this. "I can't hunt," you confess, "I don't think I can do much to help."

He laughs bitterly, "I did not expect that you could. Humans have intense emotion, that will get me the power I need the fastest. You have to lure them to me so-"

"Absolutely not!" You yell without meaning to. "I'm not gonna do that. I'm not your pimp."

He furrow his eyebrows, "I understand that your human morals are at stake, but if being this...pimp...is what you need to do to get back home, that's what needs to be done."

You shake your head, "You said any creature. Do animals and cattle. I'll take cattle from villages and give them to you, plus it gives me meat to eat. Two birds with one stone."

Nyryx grows irritatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's detrimental that I have enough life force before the full moon. It is when my magic will be at its peak. We have a fortnight, do you really think there's enough cows and pigs for me?"

You don't know, it's a scary risk you're taking. But this beast, no, Nyryx is willing to help you. You don't know why, but he is. "Yeah, I can do it."

He sighs, showing his doubt in you, but he nods nonetheless. "Okay human, we will do things your way."

You smile softly, but then frown again, "Human is not my name."

"Human, cow, pig, bunny, it matters not. You are all prey to me."

Days carry on with you and Nyryx traveling from village to village. It was getting easier to walk in the snow, your body was slowly starting to adjust to the cold. Luring out animals was harder than you thought, they would sometimes run in the complete opposite direction from where you needed them to go. As if they knew what lurked for them in the snowy woods.

However, Nyryx was nonetheless pleased with your attempts. His behavior was getting better, his snarky comments weren't as frequent. He even started calling you by your name...sometimes. Perhaps he was just hungry all this time, you're not you when you're hungry after all.

However, you were getting uncomfortable sleeping in the snow. Though Nyryx provided fire and the occasionally body heat, you needed a bed. You two were huddled together, you shivering body pressed against his wing. He tucked you in close, but you can tell he was avoiding his arms from touching you.

"Please!" you beg. "Just for a few nights. I won't cause a ruckus and I'll get even more animals. I just need a bed." You were asking to sleep in a village for a night or two. It was a back and forth conversation, he would tell you it was too risky, but you were stubborn on this.

He sighs, you really weren't going to let this go. "Fine, but you owe me your tears."

The village you decide to stay the next few nights at is much more lively than the previous ones. It has people walking from store to store, stand to stand. You told Nyryx that you will find a nice family to stay with, they would pity you hopefully. You were going to purchase some gloves when you felt warm air. You turned your head to find a building, warmth emitting from it. The sound of laughter and talking was loud, you stepped inside.

It was a bar full of burly men and women carrying drinks and trays. It was so warm inside, you rubbed your hands together and took an empty seat on the bar. You had been to a few bars back at home, but this one felt like a family. It was clear this establishment was welcoming, the playful fighting across tables was proof enough of that.

Your eyes wandered before a pretty, older woman came up to you, hair in two braids with a warm uniform on.

"I suppose you're a traveler yes?" Her voice is pleasant, a pleasant smile on her lips. You nod. "Are you waiting for your husband? Where is your companion?"

You shake your head immediately, "Oh no, I travel alone." Her eyes widen and she softly gasps.

"Miss," her voice is hushed as she leans down to talk to you. "A lady should not be traveling alone. If someone asks, you must tell them you have a companion even if it's a lie."

You notice her sudden behavior change, she was protective, motherly. "Yeah, that's good advice. Thank you."

You end up telling her that you had gotten lost. That you came on ship across the sea, and somehow got separated from your family. You just needed an inn to stay at for a few nights and you would be on your way. Only some parts were a lie.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," her lips pout. "Should you need, my family is welcome to travelers, we house them upstairs."

You widen your eyes, sitting up straighter. This was easier than you thought. "Are you sure? I don't know much it costs but-"

She waves a dismissive hand, "No need. We need pretty workers like yourself to hustle these tables. Would would be alright?"

"Yes," you say immediately, "I can do that."

She smiles and claps her hands, "Thank heavens! I should introduce you to my family, they are upstairs."

You stand and follow her to the second story, your stomach flips in excitement. A bed! God how you missed such a luxurious thing. The lady open the door at the top of the stairs and holds it open for you.

You walk inside slowly, eyes scanning the area. The living room and kitchen are combined and you notice two little boys hitting each with kitchen utensils.

"Boys!" Their mother yells, walking past you. "I told you to play outside if you're going to fight! We have a guest."

You bite back a smile, heart swelling at the reminder of your mother.

"These are my sons. Aaron and Erik. They are quite the troublemakers. Should they bother you, please let me know," their mother says. "My daughter-oh! Pardon me, I am Meredith! How rude of me to invite you to my home without telling you my name. Please forgive me."

You let a small laugh escape, "Please don't worry, I'm-"

"You talk funny," one of her sons, Aaron you think, says. Meredith promptly smacks him on the back of the head making him cry out. "You wait until your father comes home," she threatens.

"My daughter," Meredith resumes, "is in her room. She prefers to...read the books she collects." The woman walks over to you and gives you a wary look. "Abigail, my daughter, she enjoys...reading books that young ladies should not read. I will not fib, I brought you here with hopes to get her head out of such treacherous writings."

You give her a questioning look, biting your lower lip in thought. Treacherous writing? Like pornography?

"You guys seems to be the same age, I just assumed you could influence her to help with the bar downstairs," Meredith finishes. Before you can answer, someone comes through the front door. You turn to see a giant of a man, snow on his facial hair.

"Oh dear," the mom says, "I offered this young lady a living space as payment for helping downstairs. Her name is..." Meredith turns back to you. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

end of chapter 2

#smut #tw monsterfucking #monster fic #monster x human #monster smut #monster fun #dark fic #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #demon smut #demon #demon oc #chapter 2 #chapter update

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gingerminx75 · 2 months

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Consequences. Part 1

With my new shape comes new attention. Catcalls that I never heard before. The hotter weather means shorter shorts and a minimal tank top. I am not dressing for them, I am dressing for me. It appears that the men in my neighbourhood didn’t get that memo. My schedule too tight for me to vary when I run, and not wanting to drive, where I run. It’s safe to say I have become predictable.

The calls are becoming more difficult to ignore. Shouts of, “leave your door open, I know where you live”. Them “accidentally” blocking my path and leaving me stammering as I ask them to move. As I blush and lower my gaze, they laugh at me, reminding me that I am smaller, weaker and regardless of my running, slower.

I return home and while soaking in a nice hot salt bath a see an advertisement on my feed. Women’s self defence classes. This might be exactly what I need. An opportunity to learn how to defend myself and hopefully gain the confidence to put these guys in their place.

Unfortunately the course is not local, but there is a one week condensed program. I can take a week off work, have a mini vacation and return a who new person.

I contact the instructor, he seems a bit aloof, but that should not matter. I just need him to teach me how to defend myself. As a retired LEO, he should have a lot of experience with deviant minds and how they pick their prey.

I pack, excited for my adventure. Shoes, running shorts (but not too short), white tank top and white cotton panties. Just in case the class doesn’t wear me right out I pack a few casual clothes and my favourite little black dress.

My flight was uneventful, arriving in the south it’s a bit warmer than I am used to, but very beautiful. I’m glad I didn’t bring sweat pants, I will sweat enough as it is.

As I was travelling to attend the course, he had kindly offered to pick me up at the airport and take me to my hotel. A short cab ride in the morning and we will begin.

I was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. 6’2, piercing eyes and wonderful broad shoulders. He watched me approach, quietly confident. No smile, yet he didn’t appear displeased. His commitment to fitness was evident. I can only hope my training is as thorough.

I get to bed early, get up, quick shower and a light breakfast. Before I leave my room, I do a quick turn around and like what I see. Simple, comfortable but practical.

I go outside and have to take a few pictures, the landscape, even within the city is so pretty. I am not used to the hills, but it might help my conditioning. I turn to look back at the hotel to see if my cab has arrived, but to my surprise I see my instructor.

He explained to me that the other two participants had canceled, and I could reschedule or train one on one. I couldn’t rationalize travelling and taking time off twice, and while he was slightly intimidating, I really wanted to do this.

I hopped in his car, and after a short while we arrived at his house. With the lack of students, he explained that we would use his garage gym, rather than rent an area. Odd, but logical.

The gym was well setup, primarily free weights, with a few machines. The best part was the wide open door and quietly humming fans that kept the space fresh and comfortable. His house being set back from the road, and nicely treed, we were able to keep music playing and not disrupt the neighborhood.

We quickly got to work. Physical assessment first. Taking my measurements, testing my flexibility. Gently, but firmly assisting me to get the fullest stretch. Next came the weights. Setup so that I wasn’t working to failure, but able to complete ten good reps. Form being more important than moving a heavy load. He explained to me that if I don’t push myself and find out what I’m capable of, I will never know my limitations. That knowing what I can handle is the best way to boost my confidence.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but his “warmup” felt a lot like my workout. A quick break for water while we discussed the day’s workout.

Weights first, then an introduction to hand to hand training. The weights progressively heavier, as I grew tireder. Quickly and sharply corrected, I quickly realized that there was one right way to do things…. His way.

I appreciated the attention to detail, even as some as the criticism stung. I wanted to do well, I just didn’t know what to do. Frustrated with my failures. He didn’t appear to notice, continuing to correct me as he saw fit.

Watching me squat. Nudging my feet into proper position. Slightly wider. Toes out. Correcting the arch in my back with a firm hand. Close enough that his voice sounded like a whisper in my ear. “Yes, that’s it”. “Deeper now”.

That simple affirmation, after so many struggles, felt so good. Re-energized, I wanted more. I wanted his praise. Trying extra hard, legs starting to tremble as I descend. Him gently supporting the weight and allowing me to collect myself. Taking away his support feels like the weight doubled as I rise. The pause at the bottom ruined the momentum. I struggle to return to my start position. This time he allows me to struggle. For the first time, I see a hint of a smile.

I rack the weights and catch my breath. He leads me to the bench press. I assume the position. Feet flat, legs parted. Squared up to the bar. Standing behind me, he helps me unrack the weight. Light enough to not need a spotter yet, he stands and the end of the bench. Watching, guiding me with simple instructions. I’m concentrating on my technique, but distracted by his voice. I like it.

His whole demeanour authoritative, but confident. Self assured, with no need to be cocky. Quite obviously used to giving directions, rather than taking them. We watches me, arms crossed over his chest. Unintentionally showing off those gorgeous arms.

I don’t notice that he is watching me too. Watching both my form and my reactions. Watching my shorts ride up a bit as my back arches. Careful to stay in contact with the bench, unaware that my shorts have adjusted. The white cotton of my panties gleaming against the black silkiness of my shorts. Legs rolling outward, the damp spot on my panties that very likely isn’t sweat.

———-

I finish the set, get up and adjust my clothes. Riding up and exposing more than I’d like. Ready to wrap up for the day, I’m ready to go back to my room and relax.

My day isn’t over yet though, on the drive back to the hotel I receive a stern lecture about the importance of situational awareness. Learning to unconsciously scan my surroundings for threats. Being aware of what is present, and what can hurt me. I have been accused of being naive before. I want to believe that people are not all bad. And that kindness is not weakness.

Back in my room, I slowly strip. Enjoying the tightness of my hard worked muscles. Enjoying the sheen of sweat. Shyly wishing that someone was there to taste it. Running a bath, sipping a glass of wine. Strolling lazily around my room. Not a care in the world.

Morning arrives too early and I am outside and waiting before he arrives. Dreading the workout to come, but looking forward to it at the same time. I expect to see changes in myself by the end of the week. Wondering if anyone else will notice as well.

He picks me up, and today drives in the opposite direction of his home. I enjoy the scenery and wonder where we are off to. He pulls into a gorgeous wooded drive. Parks the car and takes two water bottles from the backseat.

I follow curiously as he walks down the path. His steps longer than mine, I have to run/walk to keep up. No small talk, no wasted energy. A man on a mission, but unwilling to share the plan with me.

We pass the free space area of the park and enter the trail system. Here he gets a bit more talkative. Asking me what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling and telling me to let him know if I get nervous. The last question seems odd. I don’t imagine anyone bothering us, not with his size and demeanour.

Today’s workout involves functional strength. Dead arm hangs from convenient overhanging branches. Some too tall for me to reach. He easily boosts me up and helps me down.

Hill climbing, wind sprints, pushups and skip rope. Oddly thrilled with the praise for something especially well done. The day is hard, but enjoyable. The sunshine, the dedicated attention of someone willing to help me grow better and stronger.

He seems very concerned for my comfort, always checking in to make sure that I am okay. Making sure that I am not afraid. As the day draws on, he seems almost frustrated with my answers. I’m not afraid, I am enjoying the adventure. I’m learning, I am growing and I am having a great time. This day is everything I wanted and more.

We stop to break a water break and sit in a lightly shaded clearing. I take a moment to rub a cramp out of my shoulder. I’m beginning to feel the effects of the past days’ efforts. He suggests that I sit up straight, back against the tree. Reaching my arms up high above my head. He stands in front of me, awkwardly close. Taking both my wrists in one hand and helping me stretch. It feels so good as the tension rises, then is released.

One more stretch he says, this time raising me to my feet. Arms up stretched above my head. Pulling me onto my tip toes. When I expected him to of release the pressure and let me down, he asked once more, “what are you feeling?”, “are you afraid?” I answer again, “I am nervous, but safe. I feel safe with you”.

Instead of reassuring him, I see a flash of anger across his face. He grips my wrists tighter and lifts me, dangling from his grip. He leans into me, pressing my body against the rough bark of the tree. Whispering in my ear, “you don’t understand, it’s me you should be afraid of”.

#consequences #my thoughts

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michelleliloia · 7 months

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Coverage Times That Men's Sports are Given Compared to Women's Sports Part 2

A personal experience that I have when it comes to knowing male versus female athletes happened over the summer. This past summer I worked at the Women’s PGA tour (LPGA). I had female golfers walking right in front of me but I couldn’t name a single one. However, I am able to name a handful of male golfers that I am familiar with. Also, there were not nearly as many parking lots filled for the LPGA as there is for the Men’s PGA tour (PGA). This is because female golfers aren’t as known or popular as male golfers so people aren’t going to come out to watch and support them. Still, having these female players walk right in front of me was extremely cool but it would��ve been even better if I knew who they were. I am not proud of this and I want to become more engaged in women’s sports. At one point in my life I wanted to be a professional soccer player and I know I would hate it if I wasn't getting the same fair treatment as the men. In women’s sports there are fewer camera angles which means there aren’t as many angles of action shots and not nearly as many instant replays. This makes the game seem slower and less exciting for the viewers. There are also many prejudices against women when it comes to sports. Women are perceived to be weaker and have less talent than men. Why is it that there are these prejudices? It is because women are not given the fair opportunity to prove themselves like men are given. Since they barely get any attention, no one is talking about their athletic abilities and the strength that it takes to be that good of an athlete. “The assumed gender when speaking about any sport in the U.S. is men, unless there is the word “women” in front of it - NBA vs WNBA, March Madness vs Women’s March Madness, World Cup vs Women’s World Cup, etc. When speaking about women’s sports, we have to specify, whereas with men, they are still considered the default” (Bubel, “The Disparity in Women’s and Men’s Sports”). Men should not be the default when the name of the sport does not specify the gender; there should be no default gender. It is ironic. Women’s sports are not covered the way men’s sports are because people aren’t as interested in them. But, would equal coverage result in gaining more viewers and interest in female sports? I think it would.

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woman-child91 · 2 years

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I wonder if Feminists often accuse Doctors of being Misogynist. Because, they’ve explained time after time how men and women have different features.

★ Like, men have rougher and tougher skin.

☆ Women have softer and more fragile skin.

★ Men have greater physical strength but, lower intellect.

☆ Women are much physically weaker but, possess a higher intellect.

★ Men mature at a slower pace than women.

☆ Women mature at a faster pace than men.

I mean, I learned this in a Psychology class at college. So yeahhh, y’all Feminists would have probably accused my female Teacher of being Misogynist too. Because, she doesn’t think like you. She doesn’t think that everything a man can do, a woman can do better. Or that men and women were created equally.

Nope. Like, men have rougher and tougher skin. They have far greater physical strength. They mature slower than us.

So just learn to live with it and get over yourselves! You’ve been annoying me since 1999.

#anti feminists #in fact a feminist is the reason why I stopped watching Sabrina The Teenage Witch when I was a little girl.#Roxy said some feminist bullshit and my 8 year old self was just so annoyed by the comment + her attitude + her. And I’ve never been in #interested in watching the last seasons of Sabrina where Roxy is present.#facts

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 2 years

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So Taylor gets compared to Paul a lot, and rightfully so. But I honestly think her writing is more like John's. She uses collaborators to arrange and mix and produce and her lyrics are stronger than her melodies. Hey lyrics are also, like John's, introspective and journalistic. But for whatever reason (maybe mysogyny) she gets criticized for it while John is worshipped. Critics talking about John say he was blunt and unguarded. Taylor gets called self-centered and dramatic. What do you think?

I think the Paul comparisons come less from similarities in their music rather than similarities in their personality. That being said, Taylor's lyrics, while being direct and vulnerable in a way closer to John's writing than Paul's (in general, there's a lot of exceptions to these Lennon-McCartney rules), often have a more story-like structure, which, I'd say is closer to Paul's style.

I actually think that Taylor also has an emotionally volatile streak, much more reminscent of John than Paul, which you can see in her early work, idealizing the thrill of fighting in songs like The Way I Loved You. Or The Other Side Of The Door, which is about saying the opposite of what you mean and hoping the person realizes. She also reflects on how this mindset has damaged her in The Archer.

Regarding the way they're perceived: I'd say it's a lot of stuff, misogyny included. Taylor started as a teenaged girl writing for teenaged girls, in a genre dominated by adult men. She also spent the first five years or so of her career being unabashedly wide-eyed and doing things that appealed to HER — that is, a (feminine) teenaged girl. She enjoyed writing romcom tropes and fairytale imagery, making things "pretty". What I'm saying is it's not just her being a girl but the type of girl she presented, which markedly did not pander to men.

(sidenote: this is not about how feminine women actually experience more misogyny than masculine women, because they don't. It's actually more about different types of femininity, like a "sexy" feminity someone like Ariana Grande represents, a "classy" femininity someone like Adele represents, or Taylor's "childlike and naive" femininity and how the latter is the least geared towards what men want to see in artists)

Of course, the Beatles were mostly marketed to a young female audience as well, and they were criticized for it and not taken completely seriously at first. However, around Revolver (which, mind you was, depending on where you were, less than four or three years into their fame) they started being taken very seriously by critics. Taylor's always had critical acclaim, but arguably little of her work before folklore, maybe with the exception of Red, appealed to a male audience specifically, which often cost her points in how serious she's taken by critics who aren't open to her outlook on life.

From what I can tell, John mostly got that image of "blunt" and "unguarded" post-Beatles, releasing an album like POB. But by this point, people had taken him seriously as an artist basically half his career, so it was much easier to come away with the idea that POB was a serious, vulnerable album, because they went into it believing he had something valuable to say, aligned with their image of John.

I guess what I'm saying is Taylor having a slower development than John, music-wise, because she found success six years earlier and because her label never milked her as badly as the Beatles were, solidified her early image much more than the moptop era did for John.

There's also, of course, to some extent, Taylor's single choices, which a lot of Swifties agree don't demonstrate her full talent (something I'm personally kind of okay with, cause I like going into an album without set standards). On the other hand, the known Beatles songs aren't generally their weaker songs and there's a considerable overlap between their known songs and their best songs (even though I'm a huge advocate for their hidden gems). This ultimately helps with their perceived talent, because you have to be "in the know" to understand how great Taylor's songwriting is, while Strawberry Fields Forever is a well-known Beatles song. (Maybe, in a post ATW10 world, this will change for Taylor though).

Also, John having a few extremely well-known songs not be about love helps downplay how much he wrote about love, making him seem miles more versatile than her, while for Taylor, her known songs tend to be about love, giving casual listeners the impression that all her songs are. (Not to say that she didn't quite definitely write more about it than John, in total, just that there aren't eons of difference)

John also specifically courted a male audience in the early 70s, I'd say, which I don't think you could say Taylor has ever attempted.

Lastly, John's well-known "blunt" songs tend to be criticizing "the establishment" (even How Do You Sleep?, which I think, outside our tinhat-adjacent circles, is seen much more as an attack on Paul's "normie musician" image rather than a personally-motivated, vindictive jab meant first and foremost to hurt him — someone correct me if I'm wrong though), whereas Taylor is usually criticizing people in her personal life. Thus, the average listener is probably not the object of John's criticism, and there's even a satisfaction in aligning oneself with him, joining him against the establishment. Taylor though, is often criticizing common human flaws, like someone being emotionally closed off towards her or treating her like she isn't an equal. I think there's a chance that some people feel like she's holding up a mirror to them and lash out, feeling like she has to be exaggerating, or feeling like treating women like shit sometimes is Just A Part Of Life.

Okay wow spent like 50 minutes writing this I think these are all my thoughts, thank you for this ask!!!

#ask #anon #john #taylor #analysis #swiftles #fiona.docx

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kemetic-dreams · 3 years

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Why CrossFit Girls Are Stronger Than You

The Truth About CrossFit Training, If You Can Handle It

Charles Staley

The Female Lifting Revolution

Has anything advanced the case of female super-fitness more than CrossFit? That's a rhetorical question. The answer is obviously "no."

Today, more women are lifting weights, getting strong, and looking better than ever because of the popularity of CrossFit training. Bodybuilding couldn't pull it off, and even the popularity of "bodybuilding light" – Figure, bikini, etc. – hasn't drawn in modern women as much as CrossFit has. Love or hate CrossFit, these are the facts.

In the past I've referred to CrossFit as "the Scientology of fitness" among other unflattering references, but it's hard not to notice the legions of super-jacked, crazy-strong women that seem to be popping up all over the place.

Back in the late 80's when I was just starting my coaching career, a woman who could clean & jerk 135 was about as rare as seeing someone doing deadlifts at Planet Fitness. Today, however, women who can do "the king of lifts" using 200 pounds are a dime a dozen.

Three decades ago, the only place you could see a six-pack on a woman was at a bodybuilding competition. Today, it's commonplace, and this is mostly due to CrossFit.

Looking Past CrossFit's Shortcomings

I can already hear the objections beginning to percolate in that brain of yours. You're thinking CrossFit is dangerous, they all use drugs, yada yada yada. But guess what? Just like the greatest athletes, pretty much all popular training systems get some things wrong, but end up succeeding anyway because they do so many other things right. There's no perfect program.

Let's look past the shortcomings of CrossFit in an effort to discover why it's producing so many goddamned insanely strong women who could out-lift the average guy during her warm-ups.

After watching the CrossFit phenomenon with interest for a number of years, I've isolated four primary reasons why you'd probably place dead last if you entered the women's division at the next CrossFit Regionals. (Oh, and you'd also have the worst abs too.)

Note:

CrossFit men are no slouches either, and many of them could (and often do) fare quite well in Olympic lifting, powerlifting, and physique competitions. So don't get sidetracked by the focus on females – there's lots to learn here for all of us.

Reason 1 – Work Capacity How many hours a week do you work out? For me, it's between 8-10 hours. That seems like a lot, but in my conversations with a number of CrossFit coaches and competitors, high-level CrossFit competitors train between 6-8 hours a day, at least when the CrossFit Games are coming up. That means they train about 4-5 times more than you do, and manage to recover from it as well.

What's that? You're concerned about overtraining? Hey, I totally get it, but as the years roll on, I find myself less and less concerned about this much-feared malady.Remember that the key driver of muscle growth is training volume, which just means workloads. As long as your intensity is at or above about 60% of 1RM, the more work you do (and as long as you can recover from it, of course), the more adaptations you can make.Look, I'm as amazed by the workloads of top CrossFit competitors as you are, but I chalk it up to the gradual evaporation of scientific ignorance. Some of you are too young to know this, but the IOC didn't allow women to compete in the marathon until the 1980's because it was widely assumed that "the weaker sex" wouldn't be able to tolerate the stresses of such long distances.Today, less than three decades later, the women's world record is only 15 minutes slower than the men's.

Oops, guess we were wrong, and maybe we're also wrong about how much work a resistance-trained athlete can do.In related news, I know of trainers who think that if your workout goes past 60 minutes, your efforts will be nullified by a sudden shitstorm of catabolic hormones. This was "common knowledge" in gyms only a few decades ago, despite the fact that some pretty decent bodybuilders (like Arnold, for example) had apparently never caught wind of the idea.

#crossfit #kemetic dreams #fitness #women's crossfit #exercise

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princess-of-riviaa · 4 years

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Bewitching the Witcher

Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Authors note: Alternate universe (?) where women can be Witcher’s too, but all Witcher’s are forbidden from having romantic relationships. Also, I know up to this point i’ve written purely for fictional boys from books, but my Geralt of Rivia feels are consuming me. I’m considering writing for fictional characters from all source, including TV shows and movies, not just books.

Warnings: public sex, swearing, violence, 18+

The life of a Witcher was a lonely one. It was better that way. If you were all you had, then you didn’t have to worry about anything more than monster hunting. You’d been a lone wolf since you could remember and actually preferred it that way.

You spent most of your days traveling through the mountains of Mahakam. There were plenty of werebbubs to kill for gold there, and the iron forges were the best in the land, so you were always upgrading your swords and daggers for the next best thing.

Your life was simple. Until the day Geralt of Rivia came along.

...

You hated him. There wasn’t a single thing you two could agree on. Whether it was as superficial as what to hunt for breakfast or something as big as deciding to take a certain quest to kill whatever monster needed killing that week. Hell, you got along with Jaskier better than you did with Geralt, though that was probably because the bard was too terrified of you to disagree with anything you said.

Geralt, on the other hand... Geralt seemed to have some weird gratification in arguing with you, almost like he got something out of it. Your bickering would almost always turn to screaming matches and you could see a strange little gleam in his eyes every time. And when your valid points would turn to straight up insults, the twitch in the corner of his mouth instantly made your thoughts turn to something a lot more intimate.

You couldn’t understand why Geralt got off on arguing with you, but you couldn’t deny that seeing him turned on had an affect on you. When his eyes went dark, your nipples hardened. When he growled at you in that low voice, you got wet. When his hand wrapped tightly around your wrists seconds before you’d punch him in the face, you imagined how it would feel to have him rip your clothes off and fuck the life out of you.

There was only one problem: witchers were forbidden from lying together. It was something about the magic inside of every Witcher. Something about it coming into contact with itself had lethal effects. That was why most Witchers hunted alone and not in packs. The magic in your veins willed you to keep your lives separate. Befriending other Witchers was frowned upon, but having sex with one was... It wasn’t an option.

So whatever fire you felt when you and Geralt argued would just have to be ignored. That was the best option. For everybody.

...

Your plan to keep your distance from Geralt went to hell the night a berserker came to town. Jaskier, Geralt, and you had just arrived in a southern city in Aedirn. Roach had just been locked up in a stable for the night when two old men came up to Geralt and you. They cried and screamed over the horrors of a wild berserker running rampant throughout the city and nearby towns. With a quick warning for Jaskier to keep himself busy, you and Geralt were off.

The berserker was hiding in the forest on the outskirts of the city. Tracking the wild beast was simple enough, but fighting it was harder. If Geralt had been any weaker, or you any slower, one or both of you could have been hurt. Or worse. But it only took a handful of minutes to behead the beast.

This was your favorite part about hunting: the ecstasy that rushed through once the kill had been made. You caught your breath and took in the sight of Geralt. He stood just feet away, his eyes still pitch black from the potion he’d chugged down on your way here. With the beast’s guts spilled all over him, the black eyes, and his heaving chest struggling to move as he caught his breath, he looked... animalistic. You had no doubt that you looked just as bad.

The sight of him like this always made you doubt your willpower. It was times like this, when you saw The Witcher and not the human Geralt pretended to be in society, when your want for him became desperate and impossible to ignore.

He watched you watching him. His eyes never left your face. You knew he wanted you just as badly right now. You could sense the lust pouring off of him.

You stalked towards him, your eyes never leaving his face, and you basked in the warmth you felt from watching his eyes stay frozen to the sway of your hips, hypnotized.

“You want me.” It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. You already knew the answer. “Just as badly as I want you.”

His lust was written all over his face, and you were sure the only thing keeping him from ripping your clothes off and fucking you until tomorrow was the fact that he didn’t dare to move a muscle, not even to breathe. Perhaps he thought if he didn’t move then he could talk himself out of pushing you away.

“I want this,” you whispered once the distance between you two was gone.

“I want these off.” Your fingers moved towards his pants and slowly unbuttoned the first clip; your eyes never left his black ones.

You brushed your mouth over his ear and whispered, “I want you growling in my ear as my body writhes beneath you.”

You finally unbuttoned the last clip on his pants, just in time to notice the hard bulge that had barely been concealed beneath them.

You pressed your hand against his cock and began to touch him over his underwear. “I want this hard and throbbing for me.”

He let out a sigh that sounded very much like a moan and you smiled.

You kissed the side of his neck, just below his ear. He growled softly. It was just low enough for you to hear it, but it made your toes curl anyways. “I want your cock inside of me, deep enough so I can feel every inch of you.”

“Y/N.” His low voice was half-warning, half-plea.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. With your eyes locked, you grabbed his hands and brought them up to clasp your breasts. “I want you to touch every part of me until I come undone.”

The black of his pupils was beginning to fade. The gold color returned, though now you could see the desire in them, clear as the day.

His hands began to move on their own, massaging your breasts over your clothes. You closed your eyes in pleasure as your nipples hardened. You wanted to memorize what this felt like. You never wanted to forget what his hands on your body did to you.

“I want you to mark me as yours,” your murmured, stealing the last of his self-control.

He kissed you before you could even get your entire sentence out. It felt just as you imagined it would. It was a kiss that you felt down to your toes, a kiss so deep and lustful that you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you tighter against him. Your hands moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your fingers tugged at the root of his pale-white locks. He released a groan against your mouth. The sound of him made you even wetter than you already were and you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for any kind of pressure.

Geralt pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. He searched your face, looking for something. “Y/N--”

“I know.” You brought a hand to the side of his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, his nose, his bottom lip. You knew what he was going to say. But you didn’t want to hear it anymore. Fuck the dangers of lying with another witcher. You wanted Geralt badly enough to die for him.

And he must have seen that in your eyes, on your face, because he kissed you again. This kiss was different. He didn’t kiss you like he was starved and you were a five-course meal, but rather like he could spend the rest of his life doing just this. That thought alone sent more heat coursing through your body.

You pressed your thighs together again, needing something. He must have sensed your desperation because he nudged your legs apart with his knee. Once you complied, his thigh moved to press against your pussy. That was when you realized how wet you already were. You felt your desire stain your pants and your underwear and begin to drip onto Geralt’s thigh. Your body moved without you telling it to, your hips rocking up and down against the muscles in his leg, and you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he muttered before his mouth trailed down your neck, to your collarbone, and he began untying your shirt.

Your fingers were still wrapped in his hair and you gave an involuntary tug when his mouth met your bare chest. He growled against your skin and you felt him grow hard against you, his cock pressing into your stomach.

“Geralt,” you whimpered. “Please... I need you...” You could take it slow another time. Right now you needed to feel him inside of you.

He seemed to understand what you needed without you having to say a word. In a flash he’d ridden you of your pants and, with his mouth still on your skin, he backed you two up until he hit a tree. You didn’t have a chance to say anything before he had lifted you up by the backs of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. He lowered himself to the ground.

Now that you were sitting on his lap you could feel every part of him: the impenetrable strength in his thighs; the thick, hard muscles on his stomach; and the hard, impossibly thick length of his erection pressed against your pussy. You moaned at the pleasure you felt, imagining how much better it would feel to have him inside of you, fucking up into you.

Again, your hips moved of their own accord. You moved back and forth against him, teasing both of you. He let out another growl as his mouth attacked your right breast, kissing and sucking around the nipple until it was erect. He massaged your other breast with his hand, pinching your nipple between his fingers, and the pleasure was so intense that you almost came right then.

You ran your hand over the length of him before lowering his underwear just enough for his cock to spring free. It was bigger than you had thought it would be. You pulled back from Geralt to gawk at the size of it. You’d never seen a man so big before. But then again, you’d never been with a Witcher.

“I need to be inside of you,” he grunted against your mouth as you bent to kiss him again. You needed him inside of you, too.

Rising to your knees, you grabbed his length and moved it along your slick folds.

His fingers dug into your hips, warning you not to tease him right now. The desperate look in his face--the darkness in his eyes and his parted mouth--set you on fire. You couldn’t take anymore teasing, either. So you pressed his tip against your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, lowered yourself onto him.

The vast size of his cock forced you to both be patient. It took you a long minute before you had adjusted to his size and could fit more of him inside of you. Your walls clenched tightly, painfully, against him and you whimpered into his neck. He brought one hand up to your back, careful not to move his hips as he tried to comfort you.

“Am I hurting you?” He murmured, worry in his voice.

You nodded against his neck and breathed in the scent of him. “Yes. But I like it when you hurt me.”

Once you were finally able to fit all of him, you began rocking your hips in a slow movement. Having him inside of you was better than hunting, better than killing, better than fucking breathing.

Your walls tightened around him as he grasped your hips again, moving you at a pace that pleased him. All you could do was hold onto him as his cock moved inside of you. The world was silent save for his grunts and your whimpers.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warned as he picked up the speed yet again.

“Geralt,” you cried into his neck, holding onto his shoulders as you moved together.

Your walls tightened even more around him. He quickened the pace, helping you reach your orgasm.

He found your mouth again and kissed you hard. You moaned into his mouth as you came around his cock. Your vision blurred and all you knew, all you could think was: Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming his name until you stopped, only for him to cum inside of you a second later. You whimpered as he filled you up with his seed.

Only once he’d put his cock back in his pants were you able to regain control of yourself enough to open your eyes. You stayed there, straddling his lap, as your fingers traced the sharp lines and dips of his face. He closed his eyes, content to let you touch him.

“Nothing’s ever going to satisfy me again,” he mumbled. “Not after that.”

You bent down to kiss him, and with a knot in your stomach that was full of both dread and hope, you knew he was right.

#geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavill #henry cavill witcher #netflix the witcher #jaskier #yennefer #geralt x you #geralt imagine #the witcher smut #geralt of rivia smut #geralt smut #henry cavill smut

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: Who are some women in history that would be comparable to Napoleon or Alexander? Women who rose to power because they sought greatness and not because they used the feminine form to seduce for an easier life? How can the feminine mind come out of the mentality of being “the weaker sex”?

The short answer is that there are no women in history comparable to Napoleon or Alexander but equally I would quickly add that there are no other men in history either. These two contrasting men are unique. Alexander and Napoleon share similarities in their warfare, and how they used it to conquer and establish new lands. Both left legacies in which their very name has been equally loathed and loved down the ages. But they were unique.

Both were outsiders whose personal qualities rose above obstacles. Alexander was Macedonian and the Greeks looked down upon him as uncultured barbarian in the same way Napoleon was Corsican nobility and the old French aristocracy pulled up their noses in snobbish superiority. And yet able to rise through the grit of discipline and learning, luck and skill.

Both were great battle field commanders with a greater understanding of how to use one’s forces at hand to the terrain. Both were not quite true innovators as many might imagine. Alexander's military brilliance is beyond dispute but the groundwork for his superior tactics and strategies were laid by his father Philip of Macedon. Much of Napoleon’s greatness relied on the conscription model that the French revolutionary wars ushered in.

Alexander used new technology in new ways, invented new formations, and used his battlefield successes to accomplish his strategic goals with the innovative use of propaganda that was unseen before. Alexander was very unmatched in winning battles against much larger enemy formations as he was often outnumbered 2:1. He was a tactical genius in finding the weakness in the enemy’s lines and making the surgical strike necessary to ensure victory. He was quick witted at being able to make quick tactical decisions in the thick of the battle.

He was able to snatch victory from the claws of certain defeat, time and again, always against overwhelming enemy superiority in numbers, always in a terrain that his enemies had carefully chosen to maximise their advantages.

Any city he ever attacked he conquered. His own father the great Philip II failed to take Byzantium, and was defeated by Thracian tribesmen, but not Alexander. He made land out of a sea and conquered the heavily fortified island city of Tyre, and he used rock climbers to take the Sogdian Rock in Bactria/Afghanistan, an impregnable citadel that was compared to an eagle’s nest. Moreover he never lost a battle.

Napoleon was a brilliant general and even in his time earned grudging respect from his enemies. Napoleon was very successful in most of his military campaigns, and that laid the foundation necessary for his political achievements.

He fought 60 battles in his career, losing only 8 with two being considered “tactical victories” only (Second Bassano and Aspern-Esseling) . Nevertheless in the vast majority of his defeats (as well as victories) he was horrendously outnumbered, logistical suffocated, or betrayed by his allies.

He was exceptionally talented both strategically and tactically. In campaign after campaign he defeated larger armies with a smaller force, through methods like moving boldly and quickly, defeating them in detail, cutting off their lines of retreat, and doing what his enemies least expected.

Less glamorously but even more important he was great at logistics. One of his most famous maxims is that, “An army marches on its stomach.” If troops are not well equipped and well fed, they can not be expected to fight well. Napoleon had his armies live off the land, and marched faster than his enemies. While Napoleon still had supply lines, much of the food, clothing, and pay for his men was looted from conquered territory. This allowed him to march faster, and he often did forced marches where his men would march twice as far each day as the enemy predicted.

His opponents were often shocked at how quickly he outmanoeuvred them. At Ulm he surrounded an enormous Austrian army and forced them to surrender - while they thought he was over a hundred miles to the west and were waiting for reinforcements. Again, another thing that got him into trouble in Russia: the Russians retreated even faster, and burned everything in their wake, so there was nothing to loot.

He was innovative too in his use of light horse artillery - smaller cannons were pulled by fast horses, ridden by their crew - who could get into position rapidly and move into a new area when required. Napoleon loved these guys and used them in combination with his slower artillery to great effect often in support of heavy artillery.

Both were inspirational leaders of men in battle. In Alexander’s case he almost killed himself jumping into the Indian city of the Malians alone, a wound which weakened his body and eventually probably contributed to his death. He was simply fearless. Like the Carthagenian Hannibal, and all ancient Greek military leaders, Miltiades, Epameinondas, Philipos II, etc, and Romans, like Caesar, Alexander was always leading from the front line. In Napoleon’s case he too was fearless At Arcole he tried to inspire his men to attack, by grabbing a flag and stood in the open on the dike about 55 paces from the bridge. Both were loved by their men and their very presence on the battlefield was an inspiration to their fighting men.

Both were superb political strategists who were able to build on military gains with statecraft skills. Alexander the Great’s strong perseverance and incredible battle strategies led to increase his power over his empire. Napoleon used his intelligence and skill of manipulation to earn respect and support from the French people, which gained him great power.

For all this, they were both losers in the end. Both lost because they failed the most valuable lesson history can give: success is a bad teacher. Their military victories made them increasingly cocky and their political gains made them overreach. In the end their own personal qualities that brought them so much unprecedented success was the harbinger of their downfall.

So we are left with the question: what is greatness? The judgement of history seems to suggest that glory is fleeting but true greatness lasts the test of time.

There are simply too many women to list that would be worthy of anyone’s attention to show that women have achieved greatness throughout history.

Here is a good basic list of warrior women in recorded history https://www.rejectedprincesses.com/women-in-combat

Indeed one doesn’t have to stray too far from antiquity to show that women as warriors did make an impact.

I shall just focus on a few from antiquity that stand out for me and and a few more modern choices that are very personal to me.

Penthesilea

I had heard of Penthesilea and the Amazons before as a small girl. But the first time I really understand just how impressive and unusual it was in the ancient world to be a woman who “fights with men” was when I was taking Latin at my English girls’ boarding school. Contrary to popular belief, Penthesilea’s story isn’t actually told in the Iliad (which ends with Hector’s funeral, before the Amazons arrive), but in a lost ancient epic called Aethiopis. This poem continued the story of Achilles’ great deeds, which included the killing of several famous warriors—Memnon, King of Aethiopia, and Penthesilea most prominent among them.

The Amazons had a number of famous Queens, but Penthesilea is perhaps the most storied. She was a daughter of the war-god Ares, and Pliny credits her with the invention of the battle-ax. She was also sister to Hippolyta, who married the hero Theseus, after being defeated by him in battle. Penthesilea ruled the Amazons during the years of the Trojan war—and for most of that time stayed away from the conflict. However, after Achilles killed Hector, Penthesilea decided it was time for her Amazons to intervene, and the group rode to the rescue of the Trojans—who were, after all, fellow Anatolians. Fearless, she blazed through the Greek ranks, laying waste to their soldiers.

During the battles, Penthesilea was not a queen who sat by and watched the men fight. She was a warrior in the truest sense. It is said that she blazed through the Greeks like lightning, killing many. It is written that she was swift and brave, and fought as valiantly and successfully as the men. She wanted to prove that the Amazons were great warriors. She wanted to kill Achilles to avenge the death of Hector, and she wanted to die in battle. I love Vergil’s glorious description of her in battle: “The ferocious Penthesilea, gold belt fastened beneath her exposed breast, leads her battle-lines of Amazons with their crescent light-shields…a warrioress, a maiden who dares to fight with men.”

Although Penthesilea was a ferocious warrior, her life came to an end, at the hands of Achilles. Achilles had seen her battling others, and was enamored with her ferocity and strength. As he fought, he worked his way towards her, like a moth drawn to a flame. While he was drawn to her with the intention of facing her as an opponent, he fell in love with her upon facing her. However, it was too late.

Achilles defeated Penthesilea, catching her as she fell to the ground. Greek warrior Thersites mocked Achilles for his treatment of Penthesilea’s body after her death. It is also said that Thersites removed Penthesilea’s eyes with his sword. This enraged Achilles, and he slaughtered Thersites. Upon Thersites’ death, a sacred feud was fought. Diomedes, Thersite’s cousin, retrieved Penthesilea’s corpse, dragged it behind his chariot, and cast it into the river. Achilles retrieved the body, and gave her a proper burial. In some stories, Achilles is accused of engaging in necrophilia with her body. In other legends, it is said that Penthesilea bore Achilles a son after her death. Yes, I agree, that does feel creepy.

Penthesilea’s life and death were tragic. She is portrayed as a brave and fierce warrior who was deeply affected by the accidental death of her sister. This grief, compounded with her desire to be a strong warrior who would die an honourable death on the battlefield, led her to Troy, where her tragic death weakened Troy, but also led to unrest in the Greek camps due to her death’s impact on Achilles and his revengeful acts. In the end, she died the ‘honorable’ death on the battlefield that she had longed for, at the hands of the legendary Achilles, no less.

The heroines of Greek mythology tend towards thoughtfulness, fidelity and modesty (Andromache, Penelope), while the daring and headstrong personalities generally go to the antagonists–Medea, Clytemnestra, Hera. But Penthesilea is something else entirely: a woman who meets men on her own terms, as their equal. Perhaps in honour of this, Virgil doesn’t give her the standard heroine epithet of “beautiful.” For him, it is her majesty and obvious power that make her notable, not her looks.

By the way, the word that Virgil uses for warrioress is bellatrix, the inspiration for Bellatrix Lestrange’s name in the Harry Potter books. So she lives on in immortality through our modern day Virgil, J.K. Rowling (just kidding)

Cynane (c. 358 – 323 BC)

Cynane was the daughter of King Philip II of Macedon and his first wife, the Illyrian Princess Audata. She was also the half-sister of Alexander the Great. Audata raised Cynane in the Illyrian tradition, training her in the arts of war and turning her into an exceptional fighter – so much so that her skill on the battlefield became famed throughout the land. Cynane accompanied the Macedonian army on campaign alongside Alexander the Great and according to the historian Polyaenus, she once slew an Illyrian queen and masterminded the slaughter of her army. Such was her military prowess. Following Alexander the Great’s death in 323 BC, Cynane attempted an audacious power play. In the ensuing chaos, she championed her daughter, Adea, to marry Philip Arrhidaeus, Alexander’s simple-minded half-brother who the Macedonian generals had installed as a puppet king. Yet Alexander’s former generals – and especially the new regent, Perdiccas – had no intention of accepting this, seeing Cynane as a threat to their own power. Undeterred, Cynane gathered a powerful army and marched into Asia to place her daughter on the throne by force.

As she and her army were marching through Asia towards Babylon, Cynane was confronted by another army commanded by Alcetas, the brother of Perdiccas and a former companion of Cynane. However, desiring to keep his brother in power Alcetas slew Cynane when they met – a sad end to one of history’s most remarkable female warriors. Although Cynane never reached Babylon, her power play proved successful. The Macedonian soldiers were angered at Alcetas’ killing of Cynane, especially as she was directly related to their beloved Alexander. Thus they demanded Cynane’s wish be fulfilled. Perdiccas relented, Adea and Philip Arrhidaeus were married, and Adea adopted the title Queen Adea Eurydice.

Olympias and Eurydice

The mother of Alexander the Great, Olympias was one of the most remarkable women in antiquity. She was a princess of the most powerful tribe in Epirus (a region now divided between northwest Greece and southern Albania) and her family claimed descent from Achilles. Despite this impressive claim, many Greeks considered her home kingdom to be semi-barbarous – a realm tainted with vice because of its proximity to raiding Illyrians in the north. Thus the surviving texts often perceive her as a somewhat exotic character.

In 358 BC Olympias’ uncle, the Molossian King Arrybas, married Olympias to King Philip II of Macedonia to secure the strongest possible alliance. She gave birth to Alexander the Great two years later in 356 BC. Further conflict was added to an already tempestuous relationship when Philip married again, this time a Macedonian noblewoman called Cleopatra Eurydice.

Olympias began to fear this new marriage might threaten the possibility of Alexander inheriting Philip’s throne. Her Molossian heritage was starting to make some Macedonian nobles question Alexander’s legitimacy. Thus there is a strong possibility that Olympias was involved in the subsequent murders of Philip II, Cleopatra Eurydice and her infant children. She is often portrayed as a woman who stopped at nothing to ensure Alexander ascended the throne. Following Alexander the Great’s death in 323 BC, she became a major player in the early Wars of the Successors in Macedonia. In 317 BC, she led an army into Macedonia and was confronted by an army led by another queen: none other than Cynane’s daughter, Adea Eurydice.

This clash was the first time in Greek history that two armies faced each other commanded by women. However, the battle ended before a sword blow was exchanged. As soon as they saw the mother of their beloved Alexander the Great facing them, Eurydice’s army deserted to Olympias. Upon capturing Eurydice and Philip Arrhidaeus, Eurydice’s husband, Olympias had them imprisoned in squalid conditions. Soon after she had Philip stabbed to death while his wife watched on.

On Christmas Day 317, Olympias sent Eurydice a sword, a noose, and some hemlock, and ordered her to choose which way she wanted to die. After cursing Olympias’ name that she might suffer a similarly sad end, Eurydice chose the noose. Olympias herself did not live long to cherish this victory. The following year Olympias’ control of Macedonia was overthrown by Cassander, another of the Successors. Upon capturing Olympias, Cassander sent two hundred soldiers to her house to slay her.

However, after being overawed by the sight of Alexander the Great’s mother, the hired killers did not go through with the task. Yet this only temporarily prolonged Olympias’ life as relatives of her past victims soon murdered her in revenge.

Artemisia I of Caria (5th Century BC)

Named after the Goddess of the Hunt (Artemis), Artemisia was the 5th century BCE Queen of Halicarnassus, a kingdom that exists in modern-day Turkey. However, she was best known as a naval commander and ally of Xerxes, the King of Persia, in his invasion of the Greek city-states. (Yes, like in the action movie 300: Rise of an Empire.) She made her mark on history in the Battle of Salamis, where the fleet she commanded was deemed the best against the Greeks. Greek historian Herodotus wrote of her heroics on this battlefield of the sea, painting her as a warrior who was decisive and incredibly intelligent in her strategies. This included a ruthless sense of self-preservation. With a Greek vessel bearing down on her ship, Artemisia intentionally steered into another Persian vessel to trick the Greeks into believing she was one of them. It worked. The Greeks left her be. The Persian ship sank. Watching from the shore, Xerxes saw the collision and believed Artemisia had sunk a Greek enemy, not one of his own.

For all of this, her death was not one recorded in a great battle, but in legends written by the victors, the Greeks - so one must obviously be skeptical of accepting what they said as 100% truth. It's said that Artemisia fell hard for a Greek man, who ignored her to his detriment. Blinded by love, she blinded him in his sleep. Yet even with him disfigured, her passion for him burned. To cure herself, she set to leap from a tall rock in Leucas, Greece, which was believed to break the bonds of love. Instead, it broke Artemisia's neck. She's said to be buried nearby.

But much like Penthesilea, she lives on in our modern culture, but arguably more dubiously through Hollywood in the sub-par action movie 300: Rise of an Empire. Now I forever think of Artemisia as the beautiful and sultry French actress, Eva Green.

Boadicea (also written as Boudica)

Boadicea was a Celtic queen who led a revolt against Roman rule in ancient Britain in A.D. 60 or 61. As all of the existing information about her comes from Roman scholars, particularly Tacitus and Cassius Dio, little is known about her early life; it’s believed she was born into an elite family in Camulodunum (now Colchester) around A.D. 30.

At the age of 18, Boudica married Prasutagas, king of the Iceni tribe of modern-day East Anglia. When the Romans conquered southern England in A.D. 43, most Celtic tribes were forced to submit, but the Romans let Prasutagas continue in power as a forced ally of the Empire. When he died without a male heir in A.D. 60, the Romans annexed his kingdom and confiscated his family’s land and property. As a further humiliation, they publicly flogged Boadicea and raped her two daughters. Tacitus recorded Boudicca’s promise of vengeance after this last violation: “Nothing is safe from Roman pride and arrogance. They will deface the sacred and will deflower our virgins. Win the battle or perish, that is what I, a woman, will do.”

Like other ancient Celtic women, Boadicea had trained as a warrior, including fighting techniques and the use of weapons. With the Roman provincial governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus leading a military campaign in Wales, Boadicea led a rebellion of the Iceni and members of other tribes resentful of Roman rule. After defeating the Roman Ninth Legion, the queen’s forces destroyed Camulodunum, then the captain of Roman Britain, and massacred its inhabitants. They went on to give similar treatment to London and Verulamium (modern St. Albans). By that time, Suetonius had returned from Wales and marshaled his army to confront the rebels. In the clash that followed–the exact battle site is unknown, but possibilities range from London to Northamptonshire–the Romans managed to defeat the Britons despite inferior numbers, and Boadicea and her daughters apparently killed themselves by taking poison in order to avoid capture.

In all, Tacitus claimed, Boadicea’s forces had massacred some 70,000 Romans and pro-Roman Britons. Though her rebellion failed, and the Romans would continue to control Britain until A.D. 410, Bouadicea is celebrated today as a British national heroine and an embodiment of the struggle for justice and independence.

Queen Zenobia

In the 3rd century AD, Queen Zenobia, natively know as Bath Zabbai, was a fierce ruler of Palmyra, a region in modern day Syria. Throughout her life, Zenobia became known as the ‘warrior queen’. She expanded Palmyra from Iraq to Turkey, conquered Egypt and challenged the dominance of Rome.

“Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely as well as the most heroic of her sex,” Gibbon wrote in an awestruck account of her brief reign. “She claimed her descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equaled in beauty her ancestor Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity and valour.” The only contemporary representation we have of Zenobia is on a coin, which makes her look rather witchlike, but Gibbon’s description of her pearly-white teeth and large black eyes, which “sparkled with uncommon fire,” cast a spell over future historians, both in the West and in the Arab world, who quarrel over nearly everything having to do with Zenobia and her confounding legacy.

Many legends have arisen about Zenobia’s identity, but it seems she was born into a family of great nobility who claimed the notorious Queen Dido of Carthage and Cleopatra VII of Egypt as ancestors. She was given a Hellenistic education, learning Latin, Greek, the Syriac and Egyptian languages. According to the Historia Augusta her favourite childhood hobby was hunting, and she proved to be a brave and brilliant horsewoman.

Despite this, many ancient sources seem to gravitate to one quality – that she was an exceptional beauty who captivated men across the whole of Syria with her ravishing looks and irresistible charm.

She was probably in her twenties when she took the throne, upon the death of her husband, King Odenathus, in 267 or 268. Acting as regent for her young son, she then led the army in a revolt against the Romans, conquering Egypt and parts of Asia Minor. By 271, she had gained control of a third of the Roman Empire. Gibbon sometimes portrays the warrior queen as a kind of well-schooled Roman society matron. “She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue,” he writes, “but possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages.” Palmyra’s abundant wall inscriptions are in Latin, Greek, and an Aramaic dialect, not Arabic. But to Arab historians, such as the ninth-century al-Tabari, Zenobia was a tribal queen of Arab, rather than Greek, descent, whose original name was Zaynab, or al-Zabba. Among Muslims, she is seen as a herald of the Islamic conquests that came four centuries later.

This view, popular within the current Syrian regime, which boasts Zenobia on its currency, also resonates within radical Islamic circles. Isis radical fighters have believed Palmyra to be somehow a distinctively Arab place, where Zenobia stood up to the Roman emperor.” Indeed, Isis fighters, after seizing Palmyra, released a video showing the temples and colonnades at the ruins, a unesco World Heritage site, intact. “Concerning the historical city, we will preserve it,” an Isis commander, Abu Laith al-Saudi, told a Syrian radio station. “What we will do is pulverise the statues the miscreants used to pray to.” Fighters then set about sledgehammering statues and shrines.

Zenobia’s nemesis was the Roman emperor Aurelian, who led his legions through Asia Minor, reclaiming parts of the empire she had taken. Near Antioch, she met him with an army of seventy thousand men, but the Roman forces chased them back to their desert stronghold. During the siege of the city, Aurelian wrote to Zenobia, “I bid you surrender, promising that your lives shall be spared.” She replied, “You demand my surrender as though you were not aware that Cleopatra preferred to die a queen rather than remain alive.” Zenobia attempted to escape to Persia, but was captured before she could cross the Euphrates. Palmyra was sacked after a second revolt. Aurelian lamented in a letter to one of his lieutenants, “We have not spared the women, we have slain the children, we have butchered the old men.”

Some Arab sources adhere to the theory that Zenobia committed suicide before she could be caught. Gibbon follows Roman accounts that place her in Rome as the showpiece of Aurelian’s triumphal procession. “The beauteous figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a slave supported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and she almost fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels,” he writes. The grand homecoming apparently elicited a snarky response from the commentariat. According to the “Historia Augustus,” Aurelian complained, “Nor would those who criticise me, praise me sufficiently, if they knew what sort of woman she was.” Instead of beheading her in front of the Temple of Jupiter, once a common fate of renegades, he awarded her a villa in Tivoli. The historian Syncellus reported that she married a Roman senator; their descendants were listed into the fifth century. She is said to have died in 274 AD in Rome.

Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122-1204)

Eleanor was a formidable Queen twice over – first as Queen of France, then of England! Her father William X died in 1137, leaving Eleanor to inherit his titles, lands and enormous wealth at just 15. Suddenly one of France’s most eligible bachelorettes, she married Louis, son of the French King, and not long after became Queen of France, still in her teens.

Famously fierce and tenacious, Eleanor exerted considerable influence over Louis, and accompanied him on the Second Crusade of 1147-49. After their marriage was annulled in 1152, she stayed single for just two months before marrying the heir to the English throne Henry Plantagenet, and in 1154 they were crowned King and Queen of England. Eleanor took a leading role in running the country, directing church and state affairs when Henry was away, and travelling extensively to consolidate their power across England. This was all while raising eight children, and finding time to be a great patron of courtly love poetry!

Eleanor and Henry separated in 1167, and after Eleanor sided with her children over Henry during a revolt, she became Henry’s prisoner. She was held under house arrest for over a decade, and it was only in 1189 after Henry died and her son Richard the Lionheart became king that Eleanor was freed.

By now a widow in her 70s, instead of retiring to a quiet life away from court politics, Eleanor became more badass than ever. While Richard was away on crusade she took a leading role once again in running the realm and fending off threats of attack, and when he was taken hostage by the Duke of Austria she personally collected his ransom money and travelled to Austria to deliver it and ensure his safe return to England.

After spending many of her final years criss-crossing France and Spain on diplomatic and military missions, Eleanor died in 1204 at a monastery in Anjou. The nuns there described her as a queen ‘who surpassed almost all the queens of the world’.

Elizabeth I of England (1533-1603)

Elizabeth I is one of my favourite Queens of all time. She reigned for 45 years and is well remembered for her defeat of the Spanish Armada, her progresses, her economic policies, and her patronage of the arts – as well as her virginity. The history books talk much of her make-up and spinsterhood, but there is no doubt that she was one of the most badass monarchs England ever had.

Elizabeth’s early life did not start well. By the age of three, her father had had her mother executed, and Elizabeth had been deemed illegitimate. Nonetheless she was given a rigorous education. One tutor even noted that her mind showed “no womanly weakness”. She excelled at Greek, Latin, French and Italian, as well as theology – knowledge that would equip her for diplomatic leadership so necessary in later life.

In 1554, under the reign of her devout Catholic sister Mary, Elizabeth became the focus of a Protestant rebellion. She was arrested and sent to the Tower of London, but was found innocent and escaped with her life a few months later. Her true commitment to the reformed church was only openly revealed upon her accession to the throne.

Indeed, as Queen Elizabeth promptly expressed her support for the Protestant church, and yet her reign is celebrated for bringing relative religious stability to the country. She adopted a policy to not “make windows into men’s souls”, which allowed for a margin of freedom beyond that of the monarchs before her. Her astute appointment of ministers and officials along with careful housekeeping also led to a period of relative economic stability, which in turn allowed for the arts to flourish during this time. Elizabeth attended the first performance of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and appointed the acclaimed miniaturist Nicholas Hilliard as a court painter.

Elizabeth’s choice not to marry was radical (and wholly understandable given her monster for a father and abusive step-father.) Yet, throughout her reign the expectation remained that she would find a husband and give birth to an heir. Instead, the Queen used her ‘eligible bachelor’ position as a political tool, while creating an image of herself as married to the nation. Her popularity with her subjects and her own self-styled image as Gloriana made Good Queen Bess into a legendary figure; today, she has been portrayed in more films and television shows than any other British monarch.

Her most amazing achievement is the fact that her name defined a chapter of Western history so that even today we talk of Elizabethan era. A feat matched only by Queen Victoria to define the 19th Century.

Tomoe Gozen

When I was living in Japan as a child I began to appreciate Japanese history. I also took an interest in the Japanese martial arts as well as being thrown in at the deep end to struggle to learn the language. So as an outsider I was happy to discover that Japanese women were not always demure and subservient or even passive witnesses to history. Some even made it. Outsiders don’t truly know how some Japanese women had shaped their own destiny as well as their country’s within the constraints of the rigid social structures of Japanese society. Contrary to what many think there were indeed female samurai. Not many but one or two who became the stuff of legend and lore.

The most famous onna-bugeisha (female samurai) in Japanese history was Tomoe Gozen. Gozen was a title of respect bestowed on her by her master, shogun Minamoto no Yoshinaka. She fought alongside male samurais in the Genpei War, which lasted from 1180 to 1185. While a woman fighting among men was highly unusual, it seems Yoshinaka's high esteem for Tomoe and her fighting skills overcame prejudice.

In the history tome The Tale of Heike, Tomoe was described as "a remarkably strong archer, and as a swordswoman she was a warrior worth a thousand, ready to confront a demon or a god, mounted or on foot." She was also said to be beautiful, fearless, and respected.

Her hobbies included riding wild horses down intimidatingly steep hills. She regularly led men into battle and to victory. Her last was the Battle of Awazu, where Minamoto no Yoshinaka was killed. Tomoe escaped her enemies there, and gave up her sword and bowed to retirement. From there, some say she married. Years later, when her husband died, it's believed Tomoe became a nun.

Nakano Takeko

The other known onna-bugeisha (female samurais) in Japan's history, Takeko was educated in literary and martial arts before distinguishing herself in the Boshin War, a Japanese civil war that lasted from January 3rd May 1868 to 18th May 1869.

In the Battle of Aizu in the fall of 1868, she and other females who chose to fight were not recognised as an official part of the Aizu army. Nonetheless, Takeko led her peers in a unit that was later dubbed Jōshitai, which translates to the "Women's Army." Her weapon of choice was the naginta, a Japanese pole arm. But while it helped her earn glory, it would not safeguard her through the war.

Takeko was shot in the chest while leading a charge against the Imperial Japanese Army of the Ogaki domain. Fearing that her enemies would defile her body and make her head a gruesome war trophy, she asked her sister to cut it off and bury it. This was her final wish, and her head was subsequently buried beneath a pine tree at the Hōkai-ji Temple in modern-day Fukushima. Today, a monument to her stands nearby, where girls come each year to honour her and her Women's Army during the Aizu Autumn Festival.

Laxmibai, the Rani of Jhansi (1828-1858)

Laxmibai would have made any of warrior women of Classical antiquity proud. She was the last of the true warrior queens. The fact she was Indian and bitterly fought the British to the death doesn’t deter me from admiring her hugely in the same way the British still admire Joan of Arc.

Like many other families scattered across the British Empire, my family lost brave relatives who died during the tragic Indian Mutiny of 1857 (the Indians call it the First War for Independence). But however ugly and bloody that chapter of British imperial history was, I find myself in awe of the life of Laxmibai, the Rani of Jhansi.

When as a family we moved to India I learned a little about her from Indian school friends. I learned a lot more from a couple of Indian officer cadets at Sandhurst (Sandhurst takes in officer cadets from the Commonwealth and other countries) with whom I struck an affable friendship because I could speak Hindi and we used to watch Bollywood movies with our platoon mates. Laxmibai is every bit as remarkable as Jeanne d’Arc and much more. I can say I am humbled when I try to retrace her steps of her life when I visit India from time to time.

By the time Laxmibai (or Lakshmibai) was a teenager, she had already violated many of the expectations for women in India’s patriarchal society. She could read and write. She had learned to ride a horse and wield a sword. She talked back to anyone who tried to tell her to live her life differently. But where those spirited ways might have been scorned in another young Indian woman, they would prove to serve her well as she went on to leave an indelible mark on Indian history.

In the mid-19th century, what became the modern nation of India was dotted with hundreds of princely states, one of which, Jhansi, in the north, was ruled by Queen Laxmibai. Her reign came at a pivotal time: The British, who were expanding their presence in India, had annexed her realm and stripped her of power. Laxmibai tried to regain control of Jhansi through negotiations, but when her efforts failed she joined the Indian Rebellion of 1857, an uprising of soldiers, landowners, townspeople and others against the British in what is now known as India’s first battle for independence. It would be 90 years before the country would finally uproot the British, in 1947.

The queen, or rani, went on to train and lead her own army, composed of both men and women, only to perish on the battlefield in June 1858. In the decades that followed, her life became a subject of competing narratives. Indians hailed her as a heroine, the British as a wicked, Jezebel-like figure. But somewhere between these portrayals she emerged as a symbol not just of resistance but of the complexities associated with being a powerful woman in India.

Laxmibai wasn’t of royal blood. Manakarnika, as she was named at birth, is widely believed to have been born in 1827 in Varanasi, a city in northeast India on the banks of the Ganges River. She was raised among the Brahmin priests and scholars who sat atop India’s caste system. Her father worked in royal courts as an adviser, giving her access to an education, as well as horses. In 1842, Manakarnika married Maharaja Gangadar Rao, the ruler of Jhansi, and took on the name Laxmibai. (It was — and, in some parts of the country, still is — a common practice for women to change their names after marriage.)

By most accounts she was an unconventional queen, and a compassionate one. She refused to abide by the norms of the purdah system, under which women were concealed from public view by veils or curtains. She insisted on speaking with her advisers and British officials face to face. She wore a turban, an accessory more common among men. And she is said to have trained women in her circle to ride and fight. She attended to the poor, regardless of their caste, a practice that even today would be considered bold in parts of India. While she was queen, the powerful British East India Company was beginning to seize more land and resources. In 1848, Lord Dalhousie, India’s governor general, declared that princely states with leaders lacking natural born heirs would be annexed by the British under a policy called the ‘Doctrine of Lapse’.

Laxmibai’s only child had died, and her husband’s health was starting to deteriorate. The couple decided to adopt a 5 year-old boy to groom as successor to the throne, and hoped that the British would recognize his authority despite the declaration. “I trust that in consideration of the fidelity I have evinced toward government, favour may be shown to this child and that my widow during her lifetime may be considered the Regent,” her husband, the maharaja, wrote in a letter, as quoted in Rainer Jerosch's book, “The Rani of Jhansi: Rebel Against Will” (2007). His pleas were ignored. Soon after he died, in 1853, the East India Company offered the queen a pension if she agreed to cede control. She refused, exclaiming: “Meri Jhansi nahin dungee” (“I will not give up my Jhansi”) - a Hindi phrase that to this day is etched into India’s memory, stirring up feelings of pride and patriotism.

Beyond Jhansi’s borders, a rebellion was brewing as the British imposed their social and Christian practices and banned Indian customs. The uprising spread from town to town, reaching Jhansi in June 1857. Dozens of British were killed in the ensuing massacre by the rebels. The British turned on Laxmibai, accusing her of conspiring with the rebels to seek revenge over their refusal to recognize her heir. Whether or not she did remains disputed. Some accounts insist that she was wary of the rebels and that she had even offered to protect British women and children during the violence.

Tensions escalated, and in early 1858 the British stormed Jhansi’s fortress.

“Street fighting was going on in every quarter,” Dr. Thomas Lowe, the army’s field surgeon, wrote in his 1860 book “Central India During the Rebellion of 1857 and 1858.” “Heaps of dead lay all along the rampart and in the streets below….Those who could not escape,” he added, “threw their women and babies down wells and then jumped down themselves.” As the town burned, the queen escaped on horseback with her son, Damodar, tied to her back.

Historians have not reached a consensus on how she managed to pull this off. Some contend that her closest aide, Jhalkaribai, disguised herself as the queen to distract the British and buy time for her to get away.

In the end, the British took the town, leaving 3,000 to 5,000 people dead, and hoisted the British flag atop the palace. Left with no other options, Laxmibai decided to join the rebel forces and began training an army in the nearby state of Gwalior.

The British troops, close on her heels, attacked Gwalior on a scorching summer morning in June 1858. She led a countercharge — “clad in the attire of a man and mounted on horseback,” the British historians John Kaye and George Malleson wrote in “History of the Indian Mutiny” (1890) — and was killed. However accounts differ on whether she was stabbed with a saber or struck by a bullet. It was the last battle in the Indian Rebellion.

“The Indian Mutiny had produced but one man,” Sir Hugh Rose, the leader of the British troops, reportedly said when fighting ended, “and that man was a woman.”

The violence left thousands dead on both sides. The British government dissolved the East India Company over concerns about its aggressive rule and brought India under the control of the Crown. It then reversed Lord Dalhousie’s policy of annexing kingdoms without heirs.

Today, Queen Laxmibai of Jhansi has been immortalised in India’s nationalist narrative. There are movies, TV shows, books and even nursery rhymes about her. Streets, colleges and universities are named after her. Young girls dress up in her likeness, wearing pants, turbans and swords. Statues of her on horseback, with her son tied to her back, have been erected in many cities throughout India.

And, almost a century after her death, the Indian National Army formed an all-female unit that aided the country in its battle for independence in the 1940s. It was called the Rani of Jhansi regiment.

There are plenty of other women that one could write about of great women leaders who while not on the front line of battle did lead their countries to greatness or skilfully pulled the strings from behind the throne. History is littered with many examples.

What metrics we determine to define ‘greatness” is very much in the eye of the beholder. It’s not a matter of masculine or feminine virtues - although they are important in their own way. Above all I would say what makes a leader great is character.

There is no ‘weaker sex’ - that would be a terribly unfair slur on our men.

I’m joking of course. But my point stands. I don’t believe it’s about who is the weaker sex. But let’s talk of character instead.

Character defines the essence of leadership. I say this because I often encounter a perception among women that they need to become more like men to be considered equal to them. Nothing could be further from the truth. What makes you uniquely who you are as a woman is highly important.

We are all called to become the best versions of ourselves, and as women, we don’t do that by trying to be more like men. It would be a mistake to put one’s heroines on a pedestal because they are all flawed and have feet of clay - just like men. Character knows no gender. Character is virtuous. Character is rising to greatness despite one’s flaws.

As early as the 1300s, Catherine of Sienna wisely said, “Be who you were created to be, and you will set the world on fire.” More than 500 years later, Oscar Wilde reiterated that notion: “Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.”

So be the best version of yourself.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #warrior #women #femme #leadership #history #military history #heroines #napoleon #alexander #personal

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nyasha-of-germa-66 · 4 years

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May I please request Headcanons for Nami and Hancock where they broke up with their boyfriends to focus on their training but gets jealous when they see other people trying to flirt with them?

Of course!~ Thank you for the request! I’m sorry it’s kinda long, but I hope you still enjoy it. 😊

Nami

Nami doesn’t want to break up with her boyfriend, but she knows it’s for the best. They both know that they need to train to get stronger and to become more adept at their skills, and so they mutually decide to go their separate ways until further notice.

They’re both on good terms after the breakup, so Nami feels glad that she didn’t break her boyfriend’s heart. She just knows that she needs to be at her prime at all times since her crew has been gaining more and more fame, and more fame means that they’re likely making more enemies.

After all, they never said that they wouldn’t get back together in the future, right? Nami wasn’t worried in the least. They had a strong bond and made the perfect couple, so surely, they’d resume their relationship once they were stronger.

A few days following the breakup, the Strawhats decide to stop at a small island to stock up on supplies and enjoy some time off of the Thousand Sunny. For Nami, this usually means shopping for new clothes and supplies to help her chart out her maps.

Once she’s finished her shopping, she decides to treat herself to a quick drink at a local bar, not expecting to see her fairly recent ex-boyfriend having a laugh and drinking with a group she’s never seen before.

He doesn’t seem to notice her, so with a shrug, Nami goes to the bartender to order a drink only to hear a cacophony of rambunctious laughter coming from a group of women. Annoyed, she decides to look over to find that the women were laughing at something her ex-boyfriend must have said.

Curious as to what was going on, she took a seat at a table that was fairly close to them but not close enough that her ex-boyfriend would notice her there. Straining her ears, she tried to listen in on what they were saying.

As she listened, she noticed that two of the girls were on either side of her ex-boyfriend, and one was clinging to his arm while the other had her hand on his thigh. Nami’s chest tightened at the sight, but she was more interested in how her ex-boyfriend would react.

Her ex-boyfriend doesn’t seem phased by it, however, and as the women continue to blatantly flirt with him at every opportunity, he continues to hold a rather normal conversation with the women as if they were nothing more than just casual friends.

Nevertheless, Nami was furious with questions and green with jealousy at the sight. What made those girls think they were good enough for him? Was he flirting with them before she got there? Does he find them attractive?

Stomping over there and demanding answers would have been too embarrassing for the navigator. She doesn’t want to look like the crazy ex-girlfriend. And how is she to know whether or not her ex-boyfriend actually likes having other women flirt with him? Was she not good enough?

She hates feeling jealous. In fact, it’s rare for her to display jealousy when she knows deep-down that she blows her competitors out of the water when it comes to more than just her looks.

Putting aside her feelings of jealousy and betrayal, Nami decided she’d turn the tables.

Men have been gawking at her the moment she stepped into the bar, and all she had to do was flash a cute smile and a friendly wave to one of the gawkers and he’d be at her side in seconds. So she does just that, and just as she had planned, the random bargoer was strutting his way toward her, drawing the attention of others.

As more and more men approach her to shower her in compliments and offer her free drinks, she glances over to her ex-boyfriend and watches his face as he undergoes a turmoil of emotions.

He’s out of his seat and walking towards her in a matter of seconds, and Nami knows that all of the answers to her previous question have been answered and her mind can finally be at ease. She knows she’s the only one for him.

Boa Hancock

Boa Hancock has been feeling as though she’s gotten slower and weaker in recent fights against trespassers at Amazon Lily who were crafty enough to get to her, and she wonders if it’s because she’s too distracted with her current boyfriend.

She loves and cherishes him dearly, but she’s the Pirate Empress with a duty to protect the Kuja Pirates, Amazon Lily, and her beloved sisters. She can’t afford to slip up, so she makes a difficult decision to break up with her boyfriend.

During the interaction, Hancock is stern and forthright with him and the fact that her boyfriend is understanding to the situation makes things easier on her. After the conversation, she wants to break out into tears since she truly adores him, but she composes herself.

She offers who is now her ex-boyfriend freedom to stay at Amazon Lily for as long as he needed to, but to her worry, he declines her offer, saying that he might still be a distraction if he stays on the island.

The two say their good-bye’s as Hancock’s ex-boyfriend sets sail on a ship that she lent him. It’s hard for Hancock, but she has faith that the separation will only be temporary. Just long enough for her to train until she’s significantly stronger than before.

A couple of weeks pass since the separation, and Hancock decides to set sail with a band of Kuja Pirates in hopes of finding some other lowly pirates to test her strength on.

It’s not long before Hancock and her crew stumble across an unlucky ship and prepare for an attack. Once they’re close enough to the ship, she takes initiative by leaping from her own ship to the other pirate ship, landing with such swiftness and grace that it startles the pirate crew when they realize she’s there.

Before she has time to start her attack on the pirates, a familiar voice calls out to her and stops her in her place. It couldn’t be him… But maybe it was him?

Fixing her eyes on the source of the greeting, she’s absolutely delighted by the sight of her ex-boyfriend who’s perfectly alive and well. Breaking away from her previously cold exterior, she now carries a warm and sweet demeanor as she rushes to great him. But she stops.

Her ex-boyfriend is surrounded by the few women in the pirate crew, and the way they’re practically petting him and hanging off of him lights a raging fire deep within Hancock. How dare these low-lives lay a finger on him? Did they truly think they were worthy of his affection?

“I was shipwrecked and these guys were nice to give me a lift back to Amazon Lily,” he explains after noticing the fury within her eyes. Hancock focuses on his words and gets butterflies when she realizes that her ex-boyfriend wanted to come back to her island. Maybe he couldn’t stand to be away from her any longer?

Her face grows warm at the thought, but her blood instantly runs cold when she hears one of the women speak.

The woman makes an aggressive pass at Hancock’s beloved, followed by the next woman, then the next and the whole time Hancock’s ex-boyfriend carries on like it’s a normal conversation. He’s completely ignoring the fact that the women are flirting with him, and all the while, Hancock is shaking with rage as she approaches the group.

Fed up with the disgusting sight before her, Hancock politely asks her ex-boyfriend to get aboard her own ship to which he complies. As soon as the man is safely on her ship, Hancock lets loose.

She scolds the women for having been so promiscuous with her beloved and looks down on them with scorn, taking satisfaction in the way they cowered before her.

It only takes a few seconds for Hancock to turn the pirate crew into stone save for the women, and with frightening strength, she sinks the entire pirate ship before she’s back on her own ship and welcomed by her ex-boyfriend.

The only reason those women were still alive and flailing about in the wreckage was because it had to be known that Hancock is the only woman worthy of this man’s love.

#one piece headcanons #boa hancock #nami #nyasha of germa 66 #thank you anon!#blog might be slow this week #due to finals

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theantoniomabs · 4 years

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Today I am here writing on my laptop because I seem to have lost most motivation on working. Not just on my game but perhaps on everything. As a last dish resort that I swear will work, I will be essentially looking into my psyche, in hopes of finding the reason to why I do this and why I want to do it. The first thing I want to think about is Moai: An Interactive Experience. In a way this is very much for me to figure out my ideas a bit better, not necessarily to gain likes, views, or comments. More for me than for you, but I hope you get something out of this as an development blog.

What is Moai: An interactive Experience?

First Ever SpriteSheet for Moai

Moai Prototype made in Flash CS3

Spritesheets put into use to build out the first concept levels.

Moai is a puzzle platforming game I have been developing for the better part of last year. About 7 months since I started the first devlog on youtube.

youtube

About 10 videos in so far, which feels good but at the same time a little bad. I started doing the devlogs in order to promote the game but understandably that hasn’t been working too well, or rather maybe not as well as I had hoped, but that’s ok. I do enjoy the process of editing my progress into bite sized pieces of milestone markers. So in a way that’s nice.

Level Art

Level 0 Sketch

On the other side of the marketing sphere is of course the actual creation of the game. The art is awesome! I love working on this kind of stuff, the ideas are always pouring out of me. For example this is the first sketch of the first level. Technically Level 0 because this is the intro of the game. Here we can see how Moai receives life by a buttefly laying on his head and causing a flower to come to life.

Moai Level 0- Concept Art

Level Sketches

After I have completed the initial level I decided to continue working on the next levels. I know I want a couple of puzzles but all in all what I really want for this game is to make you feel like you are there. That sorts of stuff will really help you relax as you play, which in truth is the whole idea of the game. It’s a tool for you to disconnect from the world, and just relax in a beautiful serene world inhabited by beautiful animals and a stone giant.

The music should help you with that. I think that it would be a great wonderful idea to play the bell sound I have for the frequency of love segments. It gives space to the whole game so that’s wonderful. So it can play whenever Moai does his magic life touch. I also just though that perhaps it could be a good idea if Moai got slower the more he gets close to the end. That sounds pretty cool. That way he can start fast at the beginning, full of life but as he activates the points in the island he becomes weaker. Not sure if it’s visible in the art, but perhaps it should.

Character Sketches and Base Sprites

Moai Turn-Around Sketch

I like how Moai looks right now. He can have a bit more definition here and there but overall his animations are starting to look good. Once I do the revise on the art, I’m thinking I will animate it even further in Photoshop, make the necklace move, and add some motion on the the flower and the clothes. That secondary motion really brings live into the art.

Moai SpriteSheet Twee

Moai Pose Sketches

The character continues to evolve as I continue to create art and grow my artistic skills. Which is very good because my unique art style and techniques will play heavily on the feeling this game will give to the player. The stoic expression feels very good for a stone statue that can walk. I also like that it’s gender ambiguous, because I would love for everyone to be able to feel like they are the character, not just men and women, but pretty much everyone in the whole planet, same goes for his age. Moai could be 10 years old, or anywhere from 10,000 years old. Relaxation and positivity should know no exclusion.

Meaning behind the Stone Garden and the Growth Symbol

Stone Garden and Flower sketches Tiny Loading Screen guy

When I did my research on Eastern Island, I learned several things.

1- There are a lot of birds, fishes, and butterflies.

2- There are also several plants, tress and of course the stone statues.

3- People that live there make these very pretty stone structures used to basically encompass gardens.

I love that, and I decided to make it into an important mechanic in the game. The general game is a journey, however the journey is blocked off and segmented into several sections where the player must learn something new about themselves, their environements, or their personal story, in order to progress further into the island. Every time they find a point in which they have to progress, Moai must give a little bit of life force into in a sort of exchange of energy that activates certains parts of the island that will teach him or allow him to pass.

In some cases, Moai and in turn the player must give time to the game in order to accomplish something. Like waiting 5 minutes at the docks for a wooden boat to arrive and take you to a secret part of the island. Or sitting down and waiting at the top of a particularly beautiful hill that rewards you with a cinematic pan of the whole island as seen from the highest point, which is where you are sitting.

In the case of the Stone Garden however, Moai will literally give from his own life force to connect himself into the earth and help a small plant blossom. This blossoming results in a domino effect throughout the level that changes the scenery for better. Very reminiscent of the amazing and beautiful game, Okami. Whenever this happens a beautiful bell should sound in the background, as the plants grow around Moai and his path is revealed. In some cases, like in the magical forest. Moai will not be encumbered by simple gates, but rather by secret foliage that parts it’s way for Moai to continue his journey.

In the island as I mentioned earlier there is also a lot of wild life.

Real things like:

seagulls

fishes

crabs

iguanas

snakes

grasshoppers

fireflies

insects

bugs

frogs

deer

As well as fantastical animals like:

El bugalopo which is a sort of magical deer that appears randomly and has a bone mask covering his face.While in some cases the animal will act as art assets and not necesarilly interact with the player, for the case of the bugalopo, whenever he appears he will run away from the player, and will always be behind the woods. In the forest, you can see his yellow eyes appearing through the mist. In a way he simbolizes desires, and the attainability of wordly pleasantries. Because you want to catch him, but in truth you never can. He will always be away from you, ever running, he is not to divert you from your highest truth which is to bring postivity, love and growth into the island for as long as you live.

There is perhaps another fantastical animal, something like an oax or a boar. A big leathery animal that likes to eat the grass pastures. I’m not sure what they do yet, but I can see them in my mind’s eye for this game.

Early Moai Sketch

This is a very important sketch for me, as it started the journey towards the ending of the game. I don’t want to spoil the big ending, but here we can see Moai sitting and pondering his life as he traversed through the island. This gave way to this sketch of the moutainside.

Last Level MountainSide Sketch

Which gave birth to this scene.

Download the Moai Wallpaper when you Join the Email List

This scene helped me create all the base character assets and animations for the game, plus it serves as a wonderful promotional piece of content. With this in mind, I am thinking that the game, even though it’s starting to look like an actual game. With levels, movements, and controls. I feel like it still lacks life.

https://www.reddit.com/r/unity/comments/glt1r6/art_assets_art_in_the_game_moai_an_interactive/

This is why I think that besides just working on polishing out the engine and it’s bugs, I wilt working on some of the more aesthetically elements, like background and foreground animations, and the creatures I mentioned earlier that will interact and live in this world with Moai.

The next devblog will have to be about how I created:

animal art assets

new stone garden assets

and a burst of energy asset for when growth has been activated

Technical things like:

sound manager system

debugging

water reflections

the sitting and waiting mechanic

the boat mechanics

loading screen mechanics

polishing up the UI

dialog system (narrator/info boxes)

Environmental Effects like rain,mist, and the interactivity of the npc creatures

In a way this devblog will help me not only to stay focused and know what to keep top of mind, with myself and this game. I feel better overall now that I’ve written this. In the next work session for Moai I think I will be able to be productive and efficient, and continue aiding the process for Moais growth and materialization.

It will also help me divide what I want this game to be versus what I want PixelPeeps to be, which is a whole ‘nother blogpost on it’s own.

Here’s a question if you made it this far. What sort of cool mechanics would help you relax? What would you see implemented in the game that will perhaps better the world of Moai: Interactive as whole? Maybe snow, and not just rain and mist? What are your thoughts, and while we are at it, what’s your favorite animal?

Moai Devblog 1: Focus on Growth Today I am here writing on my laptop because I seem to have lost most motivation on working.

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cottagecrowe · 4 years

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I’m very torn. The history of feminism (involving and not involving religion) and women in general, in all parts of the world, along with art, clothes/costume, and architecture, all get me genuinely excited.

Like who gets excited at the thought of writing an essay, or blog article, about how men used to, and still to this day, shame women for their corsets??

But I also love the idea of learning to restore paintings.

Which requires the study of two things I suck at. (Well, I didn’t suck at it, I learned it differently, and at a slower pace, than everyone else, but when I confidently understood it, I did very well. Never had a chance to get that out of any Chem tutors tho.) Chemistry, and Math.

Like akdhskdh

Whaddo I do, do I study the three/four things I already know would hold my interest, and look for some job where I can get paid to gush about it to people?? Or like apply it to sewing and just my General Knowledge? Or do I go after my weaker points, get a job I have a lot of interest in, and then spend more free time learning the things I just Generally Enjoy? : T

#I suppose I could look for classes that teach these things and give cirtificates #and then maybe pick one thing I REALLY want to PHYSICALLY go to college for like in 2022 or smthn kadhskdj #or maybe go to art college??#do any art colleges even LET you go for just a year and a half??#what about art or general colleges in England?#IDK WHAT I WANNA DO CAN I JUST DO ALL OF IT PLEASE?#what do I even tag this as I’d like genuine advice ajdhskdb #pls reblog with tags you think are relevant and helpful XP

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skiesoftwilight · 5 years

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Embrace (Haytham Kenway)

I wasn’t sure who I was aiming for when writing this but I think it ended up being Haytham giving the scene and descriptions. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 975

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

‘Why?‘

That was the only thought roaming around in my head as I wandered aimlessly into the empty Boston streets. The night sky was raining little white specks of ice on the stone streets, buildings, and my body. The chilly air was biting my face, not making my critical condition any better. The moon lit my unplanned path as I looked for help. The only noises that were audible to me were the shallow wind that blew through my chestnut curls and the short, rapid breaths that were escaping my mouth and casting a white cloud in the air. My whimpering was hushed.

The pain that I was experiencing took away my ability to call out for help. I limped; my right thigh had been penetrated with a bullet; it seeped blood as I did my best not to put any pressure on it. I had ripped off the sleeves of my fur coat to stop or somewhat slow the bleeding and the blood loss. I had another wound just above my pelvis. It was a wound from not only a bullet but also a bayonet - my other sleeve was wrapped tightly around my torso - that had been twisted while inside me; not long before the bayonet was to be removed, a bullet had taken its place. Other wounds and scrapes littered my body; my bare arms were numb from the winds picking up.

As I carried along the deserted streets, I could see the lights on the outside of the houses began to shut off as I neared them, as if they were done with today’s problems and couldn’t make one more exception for me. Tears welled in my hazel-green eyes, but they never fell. They were a buildup of these evenings’ events involving pain, grief, anger, and just raw emotion.

“Be brave”, I whispered to myself, trying to convince myself that I would make it through the night, but in the back of my mind, I knew that this was my breaking point - my fate. This was my last stand for the lies, the truths, and the secrets that have ever been told to me. I was lost with no sense of direction figuratively and literally. The reason I am this very physical condition is because of me. I caused these events by my careless actions and decisions; I’m now paying the price - with my life.

The light blanket of snow on the ground crunched beneath my feet. I had become weaker as I passed the general store. My blood dripped from my wounds as I traveled, creating a trail, growing closer and bigger as my movements became slower and slower. I had turned the corner and kept moving until I had reached an intersection. The nearby horses neighed as I passed them. My legs gave up on me, my blood; bruised body soon collided with the wet, cold, snow-covered stone.

From my last bit of feeling left in my body, it felt nice in a weird way, I didn’t feel the pressure on shins, thinking that one more step and they would snap. I landed on my stomach, striking the wound torso. I quickly rolled over on my back and looked up at the night sky. The night was silent from that point on. “Come on, please don’t give up.” My voice was barely audible, it was quieter than a whisper. I had blinked away the snowflakes that were landing in my eyelashes and had gotten up on my hands and knees, trying to keep moving - to keep fighting. The bright yellow lights from the tavern a couple of yards in front of me showing figures of men and women inside, drinking, warm, and safe. That was my new goal; I needed to try to get to that tavern and get help. My hands no longer felt the cold, and my elbows gave out under me. I was once again pressed to the stone street. My bloody hands applied pressure to my wounds, still thinking that I was going to make it.

I turned to my side, facing the tavern with heavy eyelids, I was determined to keep moving, by the lord knows I couldn’t go on like this anymore. I wanted to thank the redcoats for the night they had given me. It was hell. I saw that my blood was surrounding me and covering my body like a blanket of death and sleep. My exposed skin was a deep but bright red, close to the color of my blood. I was no longer warm, I was surprised in myself to have lasted this long, it must have been my mother’s genes. My vision was slowly fading, bringing me closer to my fate.

The loud conversations that I could hear from the outside of the tavern were slowly becoming quieter; it felt like the father of heaven was telling the world to be hushed and let me pass on peacefully. The very last sounds I heard was a group of men exiting the warm, tavern and stepping out into the frigid night, discussing their business affairs. Among those men was a voice I had grown to love over the years, to listen to and give me advice when I most needed it. It was a voice that calmed my soul and helped me with my problems. That voice made me feel relaxed, but at the same time, it made me feel so alive. As my world was becoming a mere memory, I could hear the voice calling, calling out my name. My eyes were fluttering shut as the figure quickly approached my numb body. I had a sad smile on my face as my eyes fluttered completely shut.

“Kenway” It was the last word I had spoken that night before I felt the tight embrace of deaths cold, but warm arms…

#Assassins creed #Assassins creed imagines #AC3 #Haytham Kenway #Haytham Kenway imagine #Haytham Kenway x reader #Haytham x reader

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zella-starr · 4 years

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Cassandra is its hero: a girl that can see bad news or predict the end of the world- but no one ever listens so its stuck in a perpetual state of existing and emotional terror: zella finally figured out what 12 monkeys is about and it wrote this absurt literal wtf short story that only makes sense to those who look deeply there are some spoilers in #s but if anyone does read it and it doesnt get it kicked the f out then just tell it what you think of the ending - if you understand it at all lol

it prays, to pic related that tumblr has more femine creatures than ones who do not understand metaphors or cannot see between white and black every shade of grey

it presents: The Cassandra Effect don’t read it tho its insanity personified

DO NOT READ THIS YALL!

The Casandra effect short story by something called zella or ezla or something idk it aplogizes for spelling errors but it freaked out and though it lost its masterpiece via saudi princes banning it from twitter

"my name is Casaandea" my name is Casandra - she repeated after the cubes. something about tit felt--different- a sinister evil the cube felt different today But she had learned to not listen to such thoughts- the kind of thing that would tear a weaker specimen to pieces but cas- (arrogance my darling)

Zella01/11/2020 "a horse, of course, my darling" ` as far as Cassie could tell, the cube thought this was amusing- cute even- she smiled- kind of. and but her little black boots on for a flickering moment she wondered what day it was then scoffed- "days" the cube has replaced any need for such distinctions

Zella01/11/2020 the first thing the cube had said to the population of Wintersville upon its gran unveiling via the tribesman, was "every day is exact;u the same,!" like the great Adema themselves said! " stupid vicky, who is no long with us began to correct the cube . "That's Nine Inch Nails haha" but the look the tribesman- the one who was always beside the cube, well i sure wouldn't want to see that peak in the window at night such as on Thursdays when the servants of tribesman would do so- there were strict rules regarding sexual activity it goes without saying that after the great collapse everyone was sterilized- no children period. they were rounded up and shipped off to.. Cassiei always forgets just where but since the tribesman had brought in his spiritual leader Augustness. sexual pleasure had become limited for men- and more so for women. a man without a wife was most scrutinized and often was sent to another sector. One man was caught, welll Cassie was supposed to keep heer mind off of such things as she had been scolded since mistaking the tribesman wife for well not a woman Cassie stopped for a moment and looked around she felt the fear. this means they could to,. but why was the memory so frightful? it was a simple truth he had told her there are men, and there are women Cassies little black boots were almost at the entrance of the factory when her favorite sound on earth came screeching through the air and crashed into her eardrums like the silly old tale of the 2 became 1 buildings nonsense It was Kathy- Cassie's coworker and Nemesis- her voice was always happy-sounding- often at awkward times- but none would beat this "Cracker John Joe got hit my a truck!" "excuse me?" "yep, his head came plum off his neck too!" "what he's.. dead?" "ok well it did not come plum off his head it wad i think about half of it the tire just smashed his head and it crumbled but lots of the crumblings were far away so it was almost his." Cassie had to make sure her stress did not rise- or as the Tribesman called it her Gorita acting amuck " this would require intervention from the cubes she decided to take a peek anyway, despite kathy (what kind of fucking name is that anyway-ok Cassie stop it) and she wa.. well it was actually not such a great idea it was not that they were close,. they did not go to prom together. they did not kiss each other on the cheek after a run-in on the one single street in wintersville. but she did work with him, he was a bubbly guy, thats what the tribesman said of him- and obviously the tribesman had him killed sometimes though she wondered which was in control, him or the cubes- this thought was followed my a very sharp pain and headache that would last for day at a time (this was how the subjects of the satanic mind-control experiment that was wintersville, were trained- imagine a dog being shocked every time it bites someone) It was not the worst one she had felt, no, that was easy to pin point: one day at work- an outsider was brought in. A girl- of 16 or 17 years old. Tribesman had another man with him that day- no one spoke his name- but he decided it would be best for Casandra and the new girl (Cassie called her flower as her name was never known) Flower had an outrageous hick accent- one that cassie would normally have been disgusted by, but flower was different. she had a light shining from her eyes. a softness to her lips and to her touch. one that cassie did not forget later that evening when she was alone., this was before she learned she was never alone when the cubes were anywhere near by. she tried not to remember - because if she remembered she felt It had been several years since Cassies husband dissipated. quite literally in front of her eyes. he was gone. the depression was so great, she hadn't played with herself in - there she goes again- as if there is any such thing as years or months or days or seconds. no past. no future but still, it was worth a little bit of that pain- fuck even at the time the piercing razorblade feeling, starting with her clit up to her eye balls was worth it. She touched herself- quite a bit. she rubbing her clit and moaning- at the previous images of Flower , her soft lips and perky tits- but then Cassie still didn't know that the slicing, the burning pain she could still feel - started the second the man with no name- after his henchmen had kidnapped and beaten Flower - a pain Cassie mistook for pleasure (are they not the same) set flowers body on fire and what little life there was inside of her soon was no more what would cassie have done HAD she known? should we find out? we control this. we control this experiment. would she revolt? haha against whom? what if we ended the experiment early - the knife she just tabbed int the "tribesman" was, in fact, her mother? we are not sure yet. but surely a woman who wears the same black boots every day after being given a new name she is sure she has always had- to go to work where she does n not know what she does. something something. could her infatuation with Flower show us new and exciting ways to break her down? because this will en no other way every controlled subject still must die its one of our favorite tricks- to instill into the psych of the truly helpless- that surely ifshe had suffered THIS much, then there would be no more one day>? I mean that IS how it works is it not? we suffer- then karma picks us up. what do you think fellahs? fuck it. why not. she must be broken- lets break her slower than most- lets take that hope- and stretch it lets create a future for her - one she will only think of, we can build her up give her what she wants for a day- we can bring flower back and kill her again or maybe something new? something not romantic. often the cold hearted clutches onto something- or someone that oppresses others. lets make enemies for her, shadows she can jump when she sees. others. the town is all white? lets increase paranoia of an oncoming slew of blacks or Mexicans. of course we will choose the kindest ones we know, those ho speak Spanish will frighten her the most- we dont let her learn things here. not anything useful yes even greater than the destruction of flower- will be the terror of the others. lets bring in tansgender people. lets legalize gay marriage. lets let others have children but only once she is to old to have them herself but thats not enough- now we needa hero and we all know how this story ends -The end

for real if you made it this far thank you for reading a single word ive ever written its all i want in this world- well not quite but close <3

the worst thing you can do to someone is make them the enemy theyve always hated via some tyrant taking over their minds and souls and spitting out a perverse vile version of them- no point to go to its funeral it died long ago..

#horror #scifi #mind control #mind corruption #mind conditioning #trump #maga2020 #psychos #3 letter demon monsters

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womenhealthbeauty · 4 years

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Get rid of cellulite

What is cellulite?

Some claim that its subcutaneous fat. Others claim that the toxins within the body are accumulated within the subcutaneous tissue. And what exactly is that the truth?

What is cellulite and from what does it form?

Cellulite could be used as a term to describe a particular cosmetic problem. Cellulite-affected skin has lumps, protrusions, bumps and is not at all smooth, even and tight. Skin that looks like this is usually compared to the skin of an orange. We see the matter of cellulite as a problem that only affects the surface of our skin, however, the core of the matter itself is hiding bellow it. Fatty deposit is the main culprit that makes cellulite look the way it does. Those fatty deposits inflate, swell and they make their way just bellow the skin through connective tissues. They are unevenly distributed throughout the ticker and thinner layers of the skin. Fat cells can grow, they can even end up growing up to several times larger than, what is considered, their normal size. When that happens they burst and overflow from those pockets and compartments in which they are located causing the skin to push upwards.

Fat is not the only thing that can give us answers as to why cellulite looks the way it does.

Fibrosis, or damaged connective tissues under the skin, also plays a task. Such damage is comparable to scarring. During this case, the connective tissue may thicken, deform and, as a result, leak more or less oily tissue to the surface of the skin. Hence those irregularities and lumps on the skin that we consider cellulite. The connective tissue is a tissue that surrounds all organs and is formed of collagen, elastin and other proteins, its role in the body is to carry, and keep, everything together.

It is important to understand that the fatty deposits within the deeper parts of the skin are enclosed in an exceeding form of the compartment that’s wrapped in an exceedingly thin layer of connective tissue. These barriers are separated by collagen fibers that stretch from the skin surface to the deeper layers. So fat isn’t the sole answer to the question of what cellulite actually is. Other factors also play a role which can actually be the reason why this phenomenon does not only occur in cases of obesity, healthy, thin people can also have cellulite. However, it is a fact that obese people are more prone to having cellulite which to them is a daily occurrence that they can easily get rid of!

Clarify what cellulite is

Maybe the best way of clarifying what cellulite actually is is in this way. Fibrous tissues have shortened and thickened collagen fibers that pull the surface of the skin-deep – toward deeper tissues. This is often how the bumps from cellulite form.

At the same time, the increased oily deposits push the skin upwards. The skin is usually less elastic and thinner in places where the cellulite is visible, and therefore the fatty deposits can be quite large They push the skin upwards which is what causes it to create those protrusions on the skin. All this is often and in many cases followed by swelling and fluid retention within the part of the body full of cellulite. In simpler terms, cellulite is an inflammation of the surface deposits of fat followed by a scarring change in connective tissue and water retention. When we take into consideration that 90 percent of women have cellulite (and men are not spared of it either) we can almost come to the conclusion that skin suffering from cellulite is actually completely normal-looking skin, and that is how it should be. But this type of skin is not pretty and no matter what cellulite actually is, or whether it's normal or not we want it to disappear! Whether we like it or not, on most of our body, just underneath the skin, there is a layer of fat. The role of this fat is thermoregulation, protection against mechanical injury, body shaping, and above all, energy source. Now that the question about what cellulite actually is has been clarified we should take a look at our next question: what is cellulite made of?

What can cause cellulite to appear?

Aside from obesity and higher fat deposits that are the obvious causes of cellulite placement, the following factors are also important. Combining all of these factors causes cellulite to appear.

Genetics

Cellulite is driving you crazy, and no matter what you try to do, somehow he is still more You must be asking yourself: what is causing that cellulite to appear and how in the world do I get rid of it. Well then, we might have some bad news for you: The tendency of cellulite appearance can be hereditary. Certain genetic factors can be linked to cellulite formation. This usually happens when you have inherited a slow metabolism, poor circulation or specific fat distribution under the skin. The good news is that once you are aware of the problem you can affect it. That is exactly how good anti-cellulite creams can help you improve your circulation, even some types of massages can be helpful, for example, vacuum cellulite massage can help because it brings blood to the surface of the skin. Metabolism and its speed are related to the rate at which your body consumes calories. By adding some new habits to your life, such as exercise and physical activity, you can speed up your metabolism.

Hormones

What is the cause of cellulite, well one of the answers to that question are also – hormones. It has been shown that things in question are estrogen, noradrenaline, thyroid hormones, insulin, and prolactin.

Cellulite is usually associated with the usage of HRT and birth control pills. The high levels of estrogen from these drugs can increase the ability of adipose tissue to store fat, which can cause all that fat to accumulate, which pushes the skin, which ends up causing cellulite. If you are using contraceptive pills, you should ask your doctor for a formula with lower estrogen dose, or something that has a nonhormonal form, for example, an IUD. If you are on HRT, perhaps you should consider switching to a lower dose, adding progesterone cream, or using something like estrone cream that has a weaker formula.

Nutrition

Perhaps the most common and the most accurate answer to the question of how cellulite occurs is - poor nutrition. What exactly does that imply? People who eat a lot of fats, carbohydrates (which, if not consumed, turn into fat), salts (which causes water retention in the body) are well aware of what cellulite is and how it is produced because they have a lot of it. The key to success against cellulite is in a diet that contains more fibers, less salt, and more fluids. It is extremely important to bring enough water into the body to help you stay hydrated. When it comes to beating cellulite water does not have to be the only thing you use, great anti-cellulite teas can also be very helpful. Estrogen is especially to be blamed for causing cellulite. When its level decreases, so do the abilities of skin elasticity, as well as the blood flow beneath the surface parts of the skin. Poor circulation also includes slower collagen production, which is essential for healthy and strong cellulite-free skin.

Also, as your estrogen levels drop, your fat cells grow, and that means that you have a pretty good chance of making cellulite your problem. In this case, estrogen-rich foods may be used as a solution, but it is essentially necessary to consult a physician who will include a proper hormone therapy that is suited just for you. The dietary enzyme bromelain can be used to improve the general circulation of your skin and adipose tissue by removing the buildup of fibrin on your blood vessel walls. Cellulite treatment requires a two-step approach - one of the steps is to reduce the fat cells themselves and the other step is to regenerate collagen and strengthen the skin beyond the swollen fat cells.

Life habits

While looking for the information about cellulite, you will surely come across the claim that toxins are responsible for its occurrence, which is true. Aside from the fact that toxins can be ingested with poor nutrition, some other habits contribute to it. For example, consuming cigarettes. Non-active lifestyles and lack of exercise also play a huge role in cellulite formation. Exercise can be helpful in strengthening the muscles and melting the fat underneath the skin, which can reduce the visibility of cellulite itself.

Running is great for losing weight and melting fat, but building muscle will also make the body look tighter and cellulite less visible. People who do nothing but sit all day are more prone to cellulite, which usually grasps the area around the legs, thighs, and buttocks. Tight clothing is also thought to prevent normal skin blood flow and thus can also be the cause of cellulite.

Skin treatment by cellulite

There are a few additional steps that you will be able to take into consideration in order to treat cellulite. Think about your skincare procedure and fine-tune it in order to meet the needs of the skin that has a tendency to swell with liquids, store fat and have poor circulation.

Cleaning

While cleansing your skin massage the area in which the cellulite occurs with a cloth or with a magnifying glass. You should start by making circular motions in the beginning, rather than harsh up and down motions. Doing this can improve your circulation, reduce swelling and can also help you remove toxins and metabolic debris from the tissues and spaces between collagen and fat cells.

Cellulite removal

Aloe vera contains allantoin which is known to soothe and heal the skin. It has been clinically proven that Aloe vera prolongs skin microcirculation and accelerates the healing of skin tissues.

Concrete clay is also known to be a natural mineral clay that is notorious for its ability to absorb impurities and toxins from the skin through the pores. Many experts recommend using some sorts of foundation as a form of peeling for areas that are prone to cellulite. The basics act as an exfoliant and once the caffeine is absorbed into the skin it stimulates beta-adrenoreceptors within fat cells which releases them. Salts from the Dead Sea and seaweed, or flour with bladders, contain strong minerals that can further aid in the regeneration of skin cells because of the mineral iodine which can help metabolize essential fat cells.

Massage

Massages, especially the ones that help you by improving your lymph flow, are extremely good for reducing the appearance of cellulite. They are used for the removal of metabolic wastes and toxins from the interstitial tissues around the adipose tissue, and they also give your skin a smoother look. There are many professionals who offer cellulite massages, including the lymphatic massage and endermology. However, if that is, by any chance, out of your budget, you should consider purchasing a home massage device. There are a lot of options that available for you, from the right round wrist tool to the triggering massager that produces heat, massages, has a suction port, and is as good as any other professional endermology machine.

Top 5 cellulite treatment

1. Cellulite Solution Cream by Revitol Using the revitol cellulite solution should separate the fat in cells until they are reabsorbed into the body and used. If you use a cream or gel and don’t supplement this with ordinary exercise and great eating routine, you will merely be making a cycle. At the point when the fat is reabsorbed, it must be utilized, and this requires work out.

On the off chance that you don’t do this, it will work permanently restore itself in the cells, and your concern will rapidly return. Having a consistent eating routine, non-fat, low cholesterol, high protein, will keep the cellulite low and give you a lot of vitality to practice and accomplish more work and satisfaction out of life. CHECK PRICES 2. Silk'n Silhouette Body Contouring and Cellulite Reduction Device Eliminate cellulite for good Cellulite is one of the most stubborn visible blemishes you can experience. It’s skin dimpling caused by fat in connective tissue, and one of the main reasons people avoid showing off their summer bodies. It can plague legs, hips and thighs and can’t be cured or even reduced by exercise or diet. Finally, there’s a way to smooth your skin and improve elasticity. The Silk’n Silhouette Body Contouring and Cellulite Reduction Device shapes and contours skin to reduce cellulite. CHECK PRICES 3. Jan Marini Marini CelluliTx Marini CelluliTx from Jan Marini will keep your trouble areas smooth and toned so you can feel confident in your skin. This anti-aging cellulite cream's caffeine and retinol enriched formula diminishes cellulite while also invigorating skin cells. Key Ingredients: Caffeine: shown topically to stimulate fat cell degradation while preventing the accumulation of new fat cells in the skin while also shown to increase circulation and decrease water retention Aminophylline, L-Carnitine, & Theophylline: helps mobilize, dissolve and metabolize fat while simultaneously reducing water retention in the skin Retinol: increases cell turnover and collagen production to improve skin structure and hide the appearance of dimpling fat Tripeptide-41: increases Lipolysis and inhibits lipid synthesis (fat mobilization) Glaucine: increases lipolysis and inhibit synthesis while simultaneously reducing water retention and inflammation CHECK PRICES 4. 40K Cavitation Ultrasonic Weight Loss Beauty Machine An ultrasonic cavitation generator is based on the resonance of pressure waves, the ultrasound waves are conducted through the skin, penetrate directly into the adipose tissue and break it up into small pieces causing micro-bubbles which turn fat into a liquid substance.

Using the unique deep-heating technology (radio frequency plasma technology), rapidly changes electric field polarity which alternately attracts and repels electrons and charged ions in the dermis and subcutaneous tissue. That it can change the collagen formation and encourages fibroblast migration and laying down of new collagen. RF technology RF can be offered for the improvement of skin laxity, wrinkles, and facial contours.

CHECK PRICES 5. Tripollar Pose TriPollar POSE is a non-invasive home-use treatment that shrinks fat cells, stimulates collagen generation, reduces body circumference and improves the appearance of cellulite. TriPollar POSE treatments result in a smoother and tighter-looking body, significantly restoring the skin to its youthful, elastic texture. This easy-to-use, painless device, clinically-proven to safely and effectively tighten the skin and improve its overall look, is suitable for all types of skin. CHECK PRICES Read the full article

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years

Text

Stow Away [1]

[Requested by : @yexlmae ]

Pairing : Kim Jongdae / [FEM] Reader

Genre : Angst, Mature and Crude Language, Violence, Fluff (if you tilt your head and squint your eyes a little), Future Smut, Character Death?, Pirate!AU

Words : 2.1k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12.

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I stumbled back, slipping on the blood on the ground. I stared at the red substance in horror, the scream caught in my throat, my mind drawing a blank. I knew I had to get out of there and I had to do it now but my legs didn’t seem to work, my feet glued to the ground beneath me. By the time I had gotten my legs to work it was too late, the royal guard had made their way over to the alley way. At the sound of their footstep I began to panic, trying to get away before they saw me but it was too late, the man leading them had already spotted me.

“You there! Stop!” He yelled out.

As those words I made a run for it. I gathered the fabric of my dress that obstructed my legs, sprinting down the alley and onto the streets. I pushed passed people, some falling over with the sudden push to their backs. I heard women let out shrieks of surprise when I ran by, men yelling out curses as the guards followed after me. I made the mistake of looking back, tripping over the drunkard laying on the floor. I cursed, seeing the guards still a little ways away, looking around for anything to help disguise myself. I saw a pair of trousers and a shirt hung up to dry outside a house. Without hesitation I grabbed them, running down a particularly crowded part of the street. I could hear the guards yelling for the people to move aside. I hoped that I blended in enough that they couldn’t see me, walking into a pub on the side of the road. I kept my head low, grabbing a hat from another drunkard passed out inside the pub and made my way back outside through the back door. Hurriedly I put the clothes I had taken on, discarding my dress. I grabbed my hair and stuffed it into the hat, pulling it on and lowering it over my eyes to avoid them recognizing my face. I sighed in relief when I heard them run passed me but I couldn’t count my blessings just yet. I bumped into a man since I kept my eyes to the ground. Upon looking up to apologize I was met with a member of the royal guard, our eyes widening at looking at each other. He tried to grab me to stop me from running but he was too slow. I took off once more, now heading towards the pier. I looked around for any ships that were departing, noticing one at the end of the pier loading up to leave, that’s where I needed to go.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” A guard asked in a smug voice as he grabbed my forearm in his hand roughly, catching me before I reached the ship.

I said nothing as I tried freeing myself of his grip. He only tightened his hold, pulling me closer to him, “You’re going to pay for your crimes with your life.”

“I’ve committed no crimes and I will not give up my life so easily.” I said through gritted teeth before bringing my leg up, kneeing him in the groin.

He immediately let me go, giving me my chance to escape. I ran as fast as I could towards the ship, seeing them already loading up the last of their things. Without a word I placed myself behind one, acting like one of the crew members. I could hear the guards shouting to search every ship anchored at the pier but by the time they got to the ship I had boarded it would’ve already set sail and I would’ve been long gone. Once aboard I kept my head down, pulling the hat even further down my face, walking towards what I hoped to be the door that led to the lower decks. I smiled to myself when I opened the door to see a set of stairs, going down to see there was one more set that led down to the lowest deck, probably where they stored everything. I looked around the deck I was on, seeing a few men walking around but none of them paid me any attention. I slipped passed them and went down the last set of stairs, seeing the barrels of I don't know what occupied the majority of the deck.

“Okay...this--this should do for the time being…” I said to myself, looking around .

I tossed and turned thinking of the events that led me to this. Finally I stopped my tossing and turning and laid on my back, staring up at the ceiling above me. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes at the memory. The fear I had felt at seeing him standing over her dead body flooding my system. If only I had stopped her, if only I had been better with my words then she would’ve still been alive. I should’ve never encouraged her to leave the palace, if she had been where she was supposed to be I wouldn’t have to be on the run. I wouldn’t have the whole kingdom looking for me for her murder, I’d be killed on the spot if they ever found me.

I sat up, a deep frown on my face as I stared at my hands on my lap. I began to lose myself to my thoughts, failing to hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. I only noticed them when they were already on the last step, ducking down behind the barrels. I brought my knees up to my chest, hugging them to my body as I tried to make myself as small as possible so they wouldn’t see me. I cursed as I noticed one of them was walking over to where I was hiding. I looked down for a moment, searching for the knife I had found laying around but in that one moment I had been discovered. He seemed surprised to be seeing me hiding behind the barrels but before he could even think of doing anything I pushed the barrels towards him, watching him stumble back. I used this as my chance to escape, running towards the stairs but the other man that came down with him grabbed onto my arm. He had a strong hold on my arm, one I couldn’t break out of on my own strength. So I swiped up with my other arm, slicing his arm with my knife causing him to let me go. Without hesitation I took off, running up the set of stairs but just as I was about to head up the last set of stairs there were three other men coming down it.

“Stop her!” The men from the lower deck yelled up to them.

I cursed as I ran, pushing over anything and everything I could find to block their path. Their shouts were the only thing heard when they tripped over the boxes and barrels I had turned over. Running from them for a good few minutes I was finally able to find an opening and I took it. I sprinted passed them, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the upper deck. As soon as the fresh air hit my face I looked around, the color draining from my face at seeing nothing but the open ocean, no piece of land in sight for miles. I looked around at the rest of the men, seeing them look at me with slight curiosity until they heard their comrades shouting to take hold of me. At that they pulled out their swords, my heart sinking to my stomach as I thought that this was it, this is where I die. But as soon as that thought came it went, noticing a man that looked considerably weaker than the others. Without a second thought I stabbed my knife into the arm that he was using to hold his sword. The others were too slow to react as I reached down to grab his sword, swinging at them and watching them jump back.

“Come on then. I'm not going down without taking a few of you with me. Come on!” I yelled, swinging the sword once more.

They just stood back, their swords up but no one dared to swing at me. The men that had been trying to catch me on the lower decks finally came up, the one that had his arm sliced by my knife grabbing a sword out of another man's hand.

“Nobody touch the bitch, she's mine.” He said in a low tone before swinging at me.

I blocked the blow, swinging at him myself. All those sparring lessons I had with the blacksmith were finally being tested. I swung my own sword down, watching him block my attack, pushing me back. I stumbled a bit but recovered my footing quickly when he lunged at me once more. He was a big man, which also meant he was slower than I was. I ducked out of the way, pivoting on one foot and coming to stand behind him. Without a second thought I swung the sword, slicing his head clean off. I was panting heavily as I let the bloodied sword hang at my side, the blade feeling ten times heavier now that it had taken a life. My legs felt like jelly for a moment, my legs almost giving out but instead I simply lost my footing for a moment. I stumbled for a bit before turning around to face the others but as soon as I did the tip of another sword was pressed up again my throat. I froze at the feeling of the cold blade on my skin.

“Ah ah ah, we don't want to do anything rash now do we love?” The man said with a smirk, seeing me begin to bring my sword up.

I set my jaw before throwing it at his feet. His smirk grew at my actions, his eyes scanning my face while he directed his next words to the men around us, “Who's sword is this?”

He kept his eyes on me as he waited for the man to step up. I could see him do so hesitantly, his hand covering his bloodied arm. Within the next second the man holding the sword to my neck turned to him, thrusting the blade of his sword through his heart. The man fell to the floor with a thud, the others looking unfazed.

“Serves you right for letting a woman get the better of you.” He said with a look of disdain, now looking towards the man I had killed, kicking at the severed head.

“Now what should we do with this little dove?” He asked, a wicked grin on his face, his eyes almost disappearing with how wide he was smiling.

“I say we kill her!”

“Throw her overboard!”

“I say we each take our turn with her!”

At the last one my face paled, my heart sinking to my stomach at seeing them all agree. I went to grab at the discarded sword but the man simply kicked it away. He gave me a curious look, staring into my eyes. His sharp eyes seemed to soften and for a second he looked like an average man, I dare say he'd even be a gentle man.

“What do you say Captain? She'd make great entertainment for them. You know as well as we do it gets a bit lonely out at sea for so long.” One with a scar going down his cheek said with a smirk.

The man or Captain as he called him just looked at me, tilting his head to the side, “No.”

“W-What?”

“You all can get any whore you want once we dock the ship. No, this one's mine. Nobody touches my dove from now on you understand?”

There was a chorus of reluctant 'yes sir’ before he put his sword away. He stepped closer to me, leaning in so he could whisper into my ear, “You're gonna tell me all about why you snuck onto my ship and convince me why I shouldn't kill you afterward. The only reason I'm letting you live right now is because you intrigue me, nothing more nothing less. Now come on before I let them do whatever the hell they want to do with you.”

And without another word he walked passed me, going into what I assumed to be his quarters, leaving me under the watchful eyes of his men. I didn't need to be told more than once, anything to get out of feeling their hungry gaze, undressing me with their eyes

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