Asskickingtechniques @asskickingtechniques - Tumblr Blog

Check out my latest fanfic!

Synopsis:

Marina and Naveen were very close in school but time drifted them apart. But when they cross paths again after years, will the old sparks between them reignite?

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#lorien legacies #i am number four #marina #number seven #naveen #number eight #fanfic

pedro-reed

The Marvel Cinematic Universe throughout the years

abe-khajur

Yes I enjoy the jokes around brown aunties being nosy and judgy af. It's hilarious to tease them for their archaic thoughts and ideas especially when they come to with comments that end in "your mother in law won't be accepting of that"...

It just reinforces the narrative that girls are raised to be good wives and daughters in law in the end.

The way I am supposed to look, dress, cook, clean, carry myself.. All of it has to please the in laws and the 'husband'

I get angry at these women and mock their comments but in hindsight I fail to think these aunties were girls once and were raised exactly the same.

Most of them were not exposed to the ideology that girls have to be something outside of their identities of wives,mothers etc etc.

They don't think of what they are saying as wrong or primitive, it is just ingrained into them that this is the best way to find happiness in life and think passing on that knowledge is a way to help the younger girls.

Now when they see us so different from them with somewhat opposite thoughts, it doesn't sit right with them because this is a huge change, it's not something they had as an option. And we humans are always averse to change.

I just feel it's a waste of energy to even 'educate' the aunties or the ladies of their generation. We need to just move on and make sure we let the younger girls know that their lives are meant to be different and they have wider avenues to choose from.

I'm not even old enough to be an aunty but when a little girl once called me 'aunty', I was like I'm gonna change this girl's life with MY nuske.

'Be the brown aunty you would have wanted around you'

angelaeleni

“Paradoxically, the ability to be alone is the condition for the ability to love.”

— Erich Fromm

faronmckenzie

An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. May you be open to each thread that comes into your life - the golden ones and the coarse ones - and may you weave them into a brilliant and beautiful life.

dontwakeme-causeimdreaming

Idk if anybody is even still a Lorien Legacies fan, but I can’t stop thinking about 7 and 8

Marina and Eight were star-crossed from the very beginning. In order for Eight to die, Marina had to die first. She’s what stood in front of Eight being hunted. The only thing which could change that, however, was if they met, but this left them both susceptible to death, making their meeting even less practical. At least without having met, only one could be in danger at a time, right?

But then they meet finally and have feelings for each other, and believe that they beat the prophecy and that they could have more days together, more time to kiss after battle—but they were wrong. Even though Marina’s power is healing, she was too late to save Eight as he died in front of her and the scar burned into her ankle. Like, they were never meant to be but tried so hard and deserved better this ship is the EPITOME OF TRAGIC

asskickingtechniques

What if Avengers: Endgame ends with Tony and Pepper’s wedding and all the Avengers attending their wedding?

asskickingtechniques

OoPs

prlncessandthepauper

Someone: Barbie is a bad role model who forces inaccurate beauty expectations—

Me: Barbie was created in a time where sexism was very much prominent and fought to break gender norms by giving girls an independent and powerful female role model showing young girls that they could be who they wanted to be and got so much sexist backlash simply because the doll was meant to be a pretty girl who just so happened to be a part of so many prominently male-dominated fields of work, in this essay I will

weaponizedfemininityisshit

Tl;dr: An Aryan-blonde doll with completely unrealistic body proportions, feet that will only go into high-heeled shoes, and an intense fixation on being ~fashionable~ is actually feminist, sweaty :)

Dumbfuck solipsistic girly-girls are bubonic plague.

marzipanandminutiae

so let’s talk about Barbie

because I see these two vastly different takes around a lot, and as a Doll Person(TM), I have my own thoughts on the matter

Barbie was created by a toy developer named Ruth Handler. a toy developer who was constantly being told by the men who dominated her field that little girls only wanted baby dolls they could mother. no matter that she’d seen her own preteen daughter eschewing baby dolls for paper dolls of adult women- girls must want to play at mothering, because that was all they were going to do when they grew up, right?

my own mom had a first-issue Barbie in 1959, when she was six years old. to her, Barbie was revolutionary. “Here was a doll,” she’s told me, “that you weren’t playing Mama with. Here was a doll who had a life and a career outside of the home. I’d never seen anything like that, and I loved it.”

the career was modeling, and Barbie did indeed look more like a fashion illustration than a human woman. all of these things were true at the same time- the independence and the traditionally feminine trappings thereof

Barbie was far from the first fashion doll intended for children- that honor went to the French lady dolls of the 1850s-90s, another type pioneered by a woman in a male-dominated field. and like Barbie, her great-grandmothers were fraught with controversy. but that’s a topic for another day

Barbie has been many things over her half-century of life. an astronaut, a president, a doctor- and a beauty pageant queen. a character who appears in videos about coping with depression- and a toy that once came with a tiny diet book that simply said “Don’t eat.” she’s come in a variety of races, but it took until 1980 for Barbies of color to actually BE Barbies, not just “Barbie’s friends.” she was created by a woman who saw that her daughter wanted to play out an independent future for herself, but that future took the form of a modeling job (not inherently bad, but not particularly challenging to the status quo of women’s employment at the time)

Barbie’s legacy cannot be neatly summed up as good or bad, empowering or oppressive. she’s complicated, as is our cultural relationship to her

but hey, what do I know? I’m just a dumbfuck solipsistic girly-girl

The Revenge

Summary of Part 1: Marina and Eight are really excited about the Garde reunion they are hosting at their house. But what happens when they end up fighting right before the party?

Read Part 1 on:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary of Part 2: The Garde reunion is over, and Marina and Eight have patched up, but looks like Marina has got some tricks up her sleeve.

Read Part 2 on:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Excerpt:

"Get ready, they'll be here any minute now!"

Eight was slumped in front of the television, one leg resting atop the armrest of the sofa, his t-shirt and shorts creased due to sitting for long hours. He leaned forward in anticipation, as he popped one more groundnut, completely engrossed in the movie. He watched as the camera panned to reveal the face of the antagonist-

He felt a sudden push on his back as he was thrown unceremoniously to the floor.

"What the-"

The remote was forced away from his grasp as he saw it flying across the hall towards the kitchen straight into Marina's outstretched hand. "No more TV." she announced as she switched off the television with a smug face.

"FIVE MINUTES WOULDN'T HAVE MADE ANY DIFFERENCE!!" bellowed Eight, pushing back the curly mop of hair out of his face reddened with rage.

"Like I said they'll be here any minute now." Marina said nonchalantly as she continued whipping up the cream for the dessert.

Eight could do nothing as he sat there seething, watching Marina's slender figure at work, already dressed up for the occasion. He imagined he almost saw her smile before she turned away.

"The nerve! First she snatches away the remote and then laughs about it?" he thought, absolutely livid, "You're so gonna pay for this!"

But now that he didn't have the remote control he decided he had no other option but to get ready. A devious plan formed in his mind as Eight teleported away to his room, smirking to himself.

#lorien legacies #i am number four #marina #number seven #naveen #number eight #stanley worthington #number nine #ella #number ten #maren elizabeth #number six #sam goode #john smith #number four #sarah hart #fanfic

radicalchicposts

Does anybody else in medicine have an exceptionally hard time liking (let alone befriending) medical colleagues?

Why are they all...like that

lurker-i-am

“We’ll make it back together, Henri. Me and you, I promise,” I say, and close my eyes.

“Be strong,” he says, and is overtaken by slight coughs, though he tries to speak through them. “This war…Can win…Find the others…. Six…. The power of…,” he says, and trails off.

I try to stand with him in my arms but I have nothing left, hardly enough strength to even breathe. Off in the distance I hear the beast roar. Cannons are still being fired, the sounds and lights of which reach out over the stadium bleachers, but as each minute passes less and less of them are being fired until there is only one. I lower Henri in my arms. I place my hand to the side of his face and he opens his eyes and looks at me for what I know will be the final time. He takes a weak breath and exhales and then slowly closes his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have missed a second of it, kiddo. Not for all of Lorien. Not for the whole damn world,” he says, and when that last word leaves his mouth I know that he is gone. I squeeze him in my arms, shaking, crying, despair and hopelessness taking hold. His hand drops lifelessly to the grass. I cup his head in my hand and hold it close to my chest, and I rock him back and forth and I cry like I’ve never cried before.

I AM NUMBER FOUR by Pittacus Lore

redid an old artwork. i was supposed to finish this last year, but work took over my time, but i found time to “finish” this sketch today. this scene right here was what sealed the deal for me in finishing this series. no regrets. i do hope they make it into a series one day…there’s still hope!

doodlesandbooks-deactivated2024

I wanted to try drawing Nine’s metal arm. Not entirely how I wanted it to go but it’s OK. I had fun and that’s the main thing! :)

(Although it had no plot purpose, I really liked the white hair addition at the end of united as one!)

movemequotes

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy