seven pound

retr0spectre  asked:

Speaking of sexist fighting advice! There's this really great fiction writing advice blog I read years ago, written by a lady, shut down ages ago. But it claimed a few times that there was no way a woman could physically handle a zweihander or the like. I've always had a feeling that's nonsense, but confirmation from a good source such as yourself would be great.

Consider this: the zweihander weighs seven pounds. The display version is ten pounds. If you can lift a backpack crammed with textbooks, you can lift a zweihander. House cats weigh more than a sword.

The issue with the zweihander is length, not weight. It is not a heavy sword. No swords are actually all that heavy, because weight defeats the purpose of the weapon. The heavier it is, then the faster your arms wear out and grow tired. This is a terrible, terrible thing.

Combat is highly frenetic. An easy comparison is sprinting, and it’s not just a regular sprint but wind sprints. You gotta go, go, go. You need to be able to move. So, a heavy weapon is detrimental to the goal of being able to fight as long as possible. Especially when that weapon is designed to give you an edge in reach, and counter pole arms. You want to be able to swing the weapon around for long periods of time because if you wear out first, you’re dead.

Endurance, not strength, is the great necessity for any warrior. So, everything your PE teacher punished you with is what you’re looking for (except dialed to eleven). Once you understand fighting is about going for as long as possible between energetic bursts, combat starts to make more sense. This is also why most action movies feature the pressure cooker, the slow grind down of the protagonist by giving them little to no rest between fights as they accumulate more injuries.

So, when people say strength in regards to combat, they don’t usually mean physical strength in what you can lift. They mean how long you can go, what you can endure before finally keeling over. This gets misinterpreted, mixed in with the confusion by historians about parade swords (which were incredibly heavy and often the only surviving weapons) and we get the beefcake barbarian.

Like all swords, and even shields, the zweihander is awkward to use if you don’t know how to wield it or have never held one before. This has to do with its balance point. Swords feel heavier than they actually are when we hold them because the balance is midway up the blade and that strains the wrist, which strains the arm, and causes the whole thing to tilt forward. Sometimes, the sword even gets dropped. You’ve got to learn how to account for it.

When you’re looking at actual combat considerations on weight, that’s in the armor. Armor is comparatively heavy, the warrior has to get used to carrying around fifteen to twenty or so pounds, or more depending on what gear they’re lugging with them between battles. So, if you’ve got a character going into battle without plate then they’re not going to have those weight considerations. Even if they are, the point of training is to build your body up to be able to handle it.

At the end of the day, its important to remember that, historically, large scale combat has been about being able to get the most bodies on the field as possible. You ran the gamut between trained warriors and farmers yanked off their fields with a hastily cludged together pole arm thrust into their hands. There are plenty of people who went into battle with no freakin’ clue what they were doing. The concept of a military as we know it today is a mostly modern invention.

The mystique of the knight and others like them came with their training, which is… they had some. Whatever they’d have liked us to think, there was nothing different about them compared to the farmers except the money, the (sometime) power, the time, and the “luck” of their birth. In the end, it’s less about what humans can or can’t do but what society corrals them from learning. It’s easier to control your population when only the powerful have access to weapons, educations, and castles.

So, yeah, a woman can use a zweihander if she trains on the zweihander. It also won’t be her only weapon, mostly because one never knows when they’ll have to fight indoors. (That’s a joke, HEMA peeps. I know half-holds are a thing, and it’s not a katana so it can strike straight.)


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Signs as movie quotes
  • Aries: Sometimes I don't think people realize how lonely it is to be a kid. Like... you don't matter.
  • Taurus: Sweetheart, you can't buy the necessities of life with cookies.
  • Gemini: It's called a sense of humor - you should get one - they're nice.
  • Cancer: If you were happy every day of your life you wouldn't be a human being. You'd be a game-show host.
  • Leo: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts. It never helps. You fight through that shit.
  • Virgo: You can't change who people are without destroying who they were.
  • Libra: If the sky were to suddenly open up... there would be no law... there would be no rule. There would only be you and your memories... the choices you've made and the people you've touched.
  • Scorpio: It's mercy, compassion and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality.
  • Sagittarius: Well, it's a crazy, fucked up world! And we're all just barely floating along, waiting for somebody that can walk on water.
  • Capricorn: You think you're free? I'm free! You don't know what freedom is! I'm free! I can breathe! And you - you're gonna go choke on your average fuckin' mediocre life!
  • Aquarius: One thousand years from now, there won't be any guys and there won't be any girls, just wankers. Sounds all right to me.
  • Pisces: The first time I ever saw a box jellyfish, I was twelve. Our father took us to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I never forgot what he said... That it was the most deadly creature on earth. To me it was just the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Title: The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Summary: Tyler realizes he still has feelings for you after being broken up for almost a year, but is heartbroken when he discovers you are engaged.

Characters: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: 600 followers! Thank you guys so much!

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You don’t have to walk the night on your own
I will say a prayer for you to lead you on 

The style of wearing tight-laced corsets, which was de rigueur throughout the last half of the century, has to be ranked somewhere close to the old Chinese practice of footbinding for its crippling effects on the female body. A fashionable woman’s corsets exerted, on the average, twenty-one pounds of pressure on her internal organs, and extremes of up to eighty-eight pounds had been measured. (Add to this the fact that a well-dressed woman wore an average of thirty-seven pounds of street clothing in the winter months, of which nineteen pounds were suspended from her tortured waist.) Some of the short-term results of tight-lacing were shortness of breath, constipation, weakness, and a tendency to violent indigestion. Among the long-term effects were bent or fractured ribs, displacement of the liver, and uterine prolapse (in some cases, the uterus would be gradually forced, by the pressure of the corset, out through the vagina).
—  Barbara Ehrenreich & Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: Two Centuries of the Experts’ Advice to Women

”I was born, weighing seven pounds, on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, 1944; hence my name. My mother had been convinced she was having a boy and had thought of me as Michael for nine months, so as she had put no thought into girls’ names, I was called Patricia Anne.” 
Pattie Boyd- Wonderful Tonight

Happy Birthday! 

baby girl {blurb}


I took in a deep breath before opening my eyes finally. A short nap was just what I had needed. My entire body was exhausted, having just given birth to a seven pound, four ounce perfect little girl. The nurses had came to take her back to the nursery for a few shots so I decided to take a nap. My eyes flickered to the clock to see how long I had been asleep. It was nearly eight pm. I’d been asleep for three and a half hours?

I glanced over to my right side to see if Shawn was still in the room or if he had wondered down to the hospital cafeteria yet again. There he sat with our baby in his hands. His hands were almost as big as she was. One hand supported her tiny head while the other held up the lower half of her body. The sight was one that melted me completely. Shawn was talking to our baby, just like she could talk back, and kissing her small features while she slept.

“You’re so lucky you have such an amazing mommy, I love her so much and I know you will too.” he cooed to her, “I just wish you looked more like her and not me.”

I smiled to myself. He was right, she didn’t look a thing like me. She was all Shawn. It didn’t matter who she looked like though, she was precious. I never knew it was possible to love anyone as much as I love Shawn but now I knew it was. Our little girl was only hours old but she’s already showed me a new kind of love that I’ve never felt before. Shawn noticed I was awake and paced over to me, clutching our baby close to him as if he was afraid he’d hurt her.

“How was your sleep?” He asked.

“It was amazing. I needed it. How long ago did they bring her in?”

“Only about 30 minutes ago. She was asleep but I couldn’t help but hold her. She’s just too perfect.”

He sat down on the bed at my feet, moving our baby back to his hands to stare at her in admiration. He was such a nervous wreck all week, afraid she would cry when he held her, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do but here he is doing everything perfectly. I continued to admire Shawn while he admired our baby girl. Night turned into morning as we took turns holding her and talking about how we were both filled with happiness now that she’s finally here. We were truly in love with each other all over again because of the new love we both felt.

Oh right, for carnivorous metalheads your best bet is to look at wolves, who need about seven point something pounds of meat per day to be reproductively viable. However they use Feast and Famine eating habits, which means they can eat 30 pounds in one sitting.

So they need a meal at least once every month. Doing the math there’s 570 skullgems in jak 2, (and we’ll just pretend each one averages to about 30 pounds a month since some are huge and others small.) And plus Kor means at least 571 metalheads live around Haven.

That’s 17,130 pounds of meat a month.

(Now yaks are about half the weight of cows, but yakows irl tend to be bigger than yaks at least, but smaller than cows, there weren’t a lot of numbers but 1300 pounds is what we got.)

Yakkows being 1300 pounds means that in order to feed all of Haven’s metalheads that’s a little over 13 of them per month. 158 a year.

Or about 86 humans if we assume each of them weighs 200 pounds and the metalheads are very food effecient. Which means over 1000 humans would be needed per year to feed them.

So that’s manageable for the yakows assuming they are like deer and are very likely to have twins each year, just so long as the number of them around Haven is high enough. I have no idea if this would be the case or not.

This is of course not taking into account the parts of creatures deemed inedible, or the fact many animals hunt stuff for fun and I assume metalheads would be similar. Also ignoring any young ones who might need to be feed at least every 6 hours like baby wolves.

It’s also likely to assume that there was a lot more but that the game had limits to the amount of metalheads/size of the nest.

So here’s a really rough idea on how much you’d need to feed 571 of them per month if you want them to be carnivorous.

As do I

Summary: You are an British aristocrat living in the 1920′s and you are meant to be following your mother’s demands of getting married to a man of large fortune and settling down in a large manor house. However you have a huge secret that you’re hiding from your family and any type of relationship would jeopardize this mission.

Words: 3,589

Warnings: Smut, fluff

Disclaimer: Even though the reader is British this has nothing to do with the BMOL. For this fic, let’s pretend they do not exist.

Disclaimer pt.dos: This is slightly based off Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

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tagged by the sweet bord named @fabulouslittlefox

Relationship Status: I am a singular unit to my deep forlornness
Favorite colors: Soft yellows, blues, greens (or olive/hunter greens)
Pets: Phoenix, my baby red standard poodle who is almost two now! And Stewie, my seven pound grumpy old shih-tzu who just wants to eat and sleep and get belly rubs.
Last song I listened to:  I’m currently listening to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust
Favorite TV Show: Criminal Minds probably
First Fandom: Twilight?
Hobbies: Video games, crying, taking care of my dogs, uh reading…. I don’t know what I do all day. Start a million fascinating things and then forget about them?
Favorite place: I don’t know. I don’t have one. I don’t go anywhere lmao. I want to go.

tagging: uh, anyone? @vinterskald, @quasiplatonickarinhina, @redhawke, @seasoakedskin, @plasticonobandana, idk whoever wants to do it, and feel free to ignore if you don’t. <3