real talk booze-soaked leather clad modern gods are cool and all but seriously you know zeus is the fuckboy you always gotta swipe on tinder, eros’ phone is constantly lit up with grindr messages, demeter starts campaigns against monsanto, apollo instagrams his abs every morning #sunsup and spends the rest of the day snapchatting weird poetry and pictures of his coffee, ares constantly loses to athena in smash bros no matter how many times she tells him ike’s not the best just bc he has a bigass sword, artemis is a pokemon master and ash can suck it, like damn what kind of modern world do you people live in
Reblog this post if you find the ladies of long ago to
still be beautiful in our modern 21st century!
In our era where thigh-high splits in
skirts and navel-length necklines in dresses dominate the couture of what seems
like nearly every female celebrity—not to mention many instances of very heavy
makeup—one often has to wonder how our standards of the beauty ideal have
changed. A century and more ago, Charles Dana Gibson developed what was
considered for that era, the Ideal Woman. She had a sweet and wholesome look,
and one of her biggest extravagancies was her pompadour hairdo, commonly
referred to afterward as the “Gibson Girl” look.
woman—if she wanted to retain the title of a true lady—would be dressed most
respectably always, and if she dared to show her ankles among the company of
men, oh, she was a hussy! When we
realize what was considered proper in terms of dress in the Edwardian era (and
what could really be inexplicably
daring!), one often has to wonder how some vintage photos we look at now seemed
in their heyday. By looking at this image below, the question that comes to
mind is, Was Camille Clifford considered to appear “loose”? Although her gown
was generous in length, the cut of her neckline seems to me to be a bit of an
eyebrow-raiser in its day.
If Miss Clifford lived now and appeared on the red
carpet, would she even be noticed for this? I’d say not at all! She would look
exceptionally modest and would instead likely earn either high accolades of being
most stylish (as I would tell her!) or be censured for being old-fashioned! It
really is incredible how fashions change.
When we are bombarded with more and
more bold fashions and daring hair colors, one has to wonder if the glamour of
long ago can last today.
If you find such luminaries as Camille Clifford and Evelyn Nesbit (to
name just a few; I’ve picture more well-known faces below), let me know by
reblogging this post!
This time I decided to go for something non-canon and non-angsty cause I like my boys to be happy sometimes.
Today’s prompt was Secret/Confession!
The idea of the secret admirer has been around for decades, possibly centuries. They never speak directly, but instead choose to leave little notes for their love to find. They only dream that one day they’ll be together.
I love your post about letting people grow - it's super relevant to the modern political climate. I was just wondering - were there specific events or conversations that were instrumental in your growth process that others could learn from? I have a lot of relatives who I haven't been able to get through to, and I'd appreciate any insight you can give about how people got through to you in the past.
There was a single defining moment that changed everything and opened the doors for me to become a better person. I’m still working on it, and probably will all my life, but it definitely started in one specific place.
About ten years ago I found myself in the middle of an internet slapfight on some WoW LJ community. I accused someone – I hadn’t known or really assumed the gender, but it turned out to be a woman – of “shrieking” her views. I got taken to task about my wording. My point of view was that it was characterising her as a small animal like a tamarin.
The gal who called me out explained (in very firm language) that my assumption of what that meant was NOT obvious to everyone else; what they saw instead was a word often used to characterise a woman (specifically a woman) as hysterical. I argued back that I’d never seen it used that way or personally used it that way, but the rebuttal was that my experience did not align with or invalidate the experiences of countless women who’d been the subject of such terminology. My INTENT did not mean as much as the RESULT.
And this is the important part: I stopped, took a step back, and listened.
Granted, I still disagreed strongly with the woman’s actual argument, but that insight into gendered insults was an eye-opener. The core lesson was that my experience was not universal, and just because I personally hadn’t seen it – or, more likely, noticed it – didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
The “I never see x happen, you’re making that up!” argument gets bandied around a lot among casual racists, misogynists, homophobes, etc. What made all the difference is I was able to set my ego aside for a moment and consider the experience of others. This in turn led to me paying closer attention to discussions of the things women and other minority groups go through. I read The Invisible Knapsack and started understanding that being white (or effectively white) gives me certain advantages, as well as understanding the impact of lack of representation & protection as a queer person. I put aside my affront at Black people being angry and listened to WHY they were angry.
There were other moments too, or strings of moments. I used to be pretty damned homophobic and transphobic and would pick fights over it. Imagine how stupid and sorry I felt when I figured out I’m queer. Obviously that’s not going to be a terribly common experience, though there are a disturbing number of us that start out as ’phobes due to closeted self-loathing. Slowly falling in love with a socialist, feminist, queer Black woman had a huge impact on me too: of course I was predisposed to listen to my best friend, and it was an enlightening and shameful string of experiences to realise how much misogyny had been fostered in me by ones of my exes.
Now that I’ve learned so much about the problems others faced, I see it as my duty to boost their voices and fight alongside them while continuing to listen and learn. Will I ever be able to forgive myself for how horrible I was before all this, for all the things I’ve said and done, for all the hurt I caused? I don’t know. I hope so. But if I can’t be a good person then at least I can be a person who does good.
The most important part was that I was willing to listen. I was willing to consider that my viewpoint was not a set-in-stone truth for everyone else. Someone else gave me the knowledge, but I had to accept it. Without that willingness to learn, I might have been one of those shitheads with a Pepe avatar.
Agron fortunately did not have an overnight which meant, he came into the morning refreshed. And it was fortunate for that, as he had a meeting with a teacher coming in who wished to arrange a field trip for her students. Agron’s superior had told him to greet her warmly, and to take her on a quick tour of the place as well as go over basic protocols. Things that they would not have time to explain when there was a classroom full of children.
Further fortune was upon them, as the day was fairly quiet. So when a woman walked towards the station, the door to the garage portion opened, Agron immediately approached her. “Hi. You must be Turia.” Who else would come midday to the fire station. He extended his hand politely her to shake. “I’m Agron. I’ll be the one giving the tour to your students.” When they came on the designated date.
“Why are we here,” Pansy bleats. She
glances around the interior of the bar—which had looked like a fucking barn from the outside—and sees thick reels
of obviously fake rope coiled like snail shells along the walls, as well as a pleather-saddled
mechanical bull lurking in the far
corner. “Daphne. Daphne. Why are we here.”
Daphne blinks. “Like…here? Existentially? Or—”
“No,” Pansy interrupts, sneering at
a girl who’s wearing a tacky red bandana as a dress. “Like, here, here.
Specifically, this dumpster fire of a
fucking drinking establishment in the
“Oh,” Daphne coos, nodding sagely. “You mean here. I just—I thought it would be fun to do something different tonight, you know? Like. Pansy. They
have square dancing here. Look at all
the cowboy boots.”
Pansy pointedly inspects Daphne’s
twelve-hundred dollar Louboutins. “Fun,” she repeats, acidly. “Right. Super
fun. Flannel shirts and illegally lifted pick-up trucks. Bathrooms that smell
like Bud Light and cough syrup. Remember that scene? In that weird Reese
Witherspoon movie with the Alabama people? Where she’s, like, you brought your baby to a bar—”
Pansy’s cut off by an elbow—large,
leather-clad, masculine—catching her
in the ribs.
shiro: *sends keith a link to never gonna give you up* hey I want you to listen to this keith: *opens the link and groans* I can’t believe I fell for a rick roll.. shiro: what no I just wanted to show you how I felt with a song
Just felt like letting you know that I'm addicted to your modern au posts and that I check your blog every day for updates! Lol. Not pressuring you or anything but because I can't comment like on AO3 I wanted you to know just how much I love it!!! ❤
Ahh, this is so nice. It’s only 8:00 am and my days already been made!!! Thank you so much. I’m honestly going to get working on a new modern au rn just because this ask ❤️❤️❤️.
The other side of town isn’t nearly as populated but, it’s better like that. A simple day. Without wondering eyes or immediate threats roaming the area. In a matter of minutes, he made way to the quiet piers and hidden spots for even more private seclusion yet, in a matter of seconds, forgot to look up and met head-on with a stranger. The Italian took an abrupt yield, shoving both his lighter and switchblade right back into his pocket. He would have to remember to ice the burn in his clutched fingers. Does he smell like smoke? No matter.
Perdonami…. Buon pomeriggio.”
Yet it led him to believe worse at the sight of her…
He placed his other hand on her shoulder, steadying a calm breath.
“i feel like i can’t go anywhere anymore without people soothsaying my downfall. even the cashier at taco bell was all “the flock of crows taken to following you portent a disastrous and blah blah fucking blah,” i get it, i’m about to undergo a storm of tribulation, what frickin ever”
this post is so vax but as far as i’m aware tal’dorei doesn’t have taco bell so it’s time to let my modern au emo child shine
Perception Function Development
(and Disney Character Arcs)
(and also one reason why Frasier is fantastic)
Let’s talk about Disney. Or at least, let’s talk about Disney in a moment. First, let’s talk about post-modern German literature.
A while ago, I read Christa Wolf’s No Place on Earth. Taking place in the early 19th century, it describes the fictional meeting of two Romantic writers: Karoline von Gunderrode and Heinrich von Kleist. There’s very little to it, honestly: the two main characters circle around each other at a fairly boring party, have a few minutes of intense conversation, then go their separate ways.
It really stuck with me, as it is easily one of the best portrayals of Ni that I have ever read. Gunderrode is portrayed as an INFJ (something that can be gleaned from her poetry as well) and the anguish she describes is specific and abstract in ways that are extremely familiar to anyone with high Ni. Her understanding of herself, the world, and Keist (a Fi-dom) is accurate without being omniscient, and it’s woven into her own abstract understanding of her fate and her identity. This, specifically the idea of only seeing the world as it is reflected in and through the self, is the essence of Introverted Perception.
In general I feel that there’s often a bit of a bungling going on when it comes to representing dominant Introverted Perceivers character arcs (or high-users of Pi, for that matter). Introverted perception translates to action fairly badly, which is why we get such terribly overblown clichés as the omnipotent, inflexible Ni-user and the by-the-book high-Si user. When we do get portrayals of Si and Ni, it tends to be from the perspective of high-Pe users, mainly through the development of their lower functions (i.e. Life is grand and great and I’m trapped here there must be more to it than this! There may or may not be a Disney song or two dedicated to this idea).
Disney frequently has its energetic Pe-doms running around looking for a meaning in life, or a home, or the sort of conceptual resting spot that Pi loves to perch on. Pe generally gets a fairly obvious arc: finding a cause to fight for, a home, a family, discovering some fundamental truth about themselves that gives their world meaning.
Obviously there’s some understanding of what Pi does here. But why, then, are Pi character arcs so off-center? Frozen is a good example of a Si-dom character arc, but Elsa spends the better part of the story in the mountains reveling in the freedoms of being alone. Moana, an INFJ, has a greater understanding of the world around her but her arc revolves around her using her dominant function: there’s no Se development. On the other hand, The Princess and the Frog’s Tiana (as a high-Pi user) spends the movie learning what’s important in life, a spin on the usual Pe arc.
This is tragic. We need to see better representations of Pi in media. And not just more wonderfully polished and absurd abstract conversations (though I’m sure we all miss Hannibal), but other visions of Ni.
Specifically, we need more Frasier: a show dedicated to the ramblings of high-Ni but consistently exposing the absurdity of over-conceptualizing the outside world. It did a great job of making high-Pi users human and relatable without diminishing their use of their higher functions. In particular, Niles Crane’s character arc is an excellent example of low-Se development over time, explored through both his subjugation to Maris (Ni cowed by a repressed and neglected inferior Se) and his pursuit of Daphne (acknowledgement and embrace of healthy Se development). Not only are there a couple episodes where Niles clearly falls into the grip, but David Hyde Pierce’s wonderful portrayal also underlined the bizarre and awkward physicality that not-infrequently emerges in high-Ni users.
!!!!!!! Y E S let her show u how the MODERN TOONS DO IT, BENDY. honestly tho she’d be like “save the mallet for toontown. use it on set and they’ll yank you right off the studio.” THE CENSORS DON’T LIKE IT, BENDY.
pls teach him about censors. he will be so confused about so many things if he got a reboot. like how humor is now a days. and also the initial reaction of “holy shit you’re still around?!” “nah i got wiped out figuratively and literally but Henry is a saint”
Summary: Set after 3x20 “Kansas”. After saving the town one more time, Emma decided to return to New York, leaving her past behind. Three years later, she realizes that might be not have been the best decision.
Chapter 34 – The House
Why be alone when we can be together baby
You can make my life worthwhile
And I can make you start to smile To be with you, Mr Big
They laid on her bed, her head resting on his chest as she
traced patterns against his skin.
“We are going to need a bigger place, love.” Killian said as
his hand played with her hair.
“Probably.” She said. “But we don’t have to do everything
right away. We can move into your place and then figure it out.”
“I like the idea of finding a place for us,” He said.
“Something we both move into and it becomes ours instead of just mine or yours…
“Yeah… but the market is tricky. I’d probably have to sell
this place and we need to apply for a mortgage and…” Killian cut her off by
pulling her closer to him and kissing her softly.
“Don’t worry about it, love.” He said softly. “I have enough
money for a down payment. We can rent the apartments and use that to pay the
mortgage.” He met her dumbfounded look. “What?”
“So many things… do you want me to list them for you?” She
“Enlighten me, Swan.” He teased.
“One, it’s still weird to hear Captain Hook talking about mortgages.” She held one finger to him
and he playfully motioned to bite it. She quickly removed it and held a second
finger. “Two, you want to keep the apartments?”
“They are a good investment.” He replied. “We should keep them. It would be nice to
give your place to Henry when he’s older.” He offered. “It’s not like we need
“Which brings me to three,” She said, looking directly into
his eyes. “How much money did you get out of Regina?”
He chuckled and puller her tighter to him. “I am a pirate, Swan. I know how to make a good
deal.” He teased her and she scoffed at him. “Regina was very generous, that is
true. But I’ve also made some good investments here and there…” He noticed her
incredulous stare and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Vinnie is more than just a pretty
face, you know. He has a school degree in finance, but he decided to work on
the flower shop.” He finished looking at her with a sincere smile. “What do you
say, Swan? Should we look around for a house?”
“We should.” She replied before kissing him.
K: Can you and Henry
meet me at this address?
Emma checked the address on his text as she drove around the
neighborhood. It wasn’t far from where his apartment was located, but it was
closer to the marina and where he kept his boat. There were little brick houses
with front and backyards on the side of the road.
She had a feeling when he had texted her and now she
confirmed it. His black mustang was parked on one of the houses, which sported
a “FOR SALE” sign. He was leaning against the hood of his car, a smile on his
face as she and Henry got out of the car.
“Hello, love.” He said as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips
before clasping Henry’s shoulder. “I wanted you to see this house, let me know
what you think.” He took a key from his pocket and handed it to Emma.
The moment she opened the door, she knew it. The wooden
floors, the open kitchen with a middle aisle, the fireplace in the living room area,
a small little corner to place an armchair to read near the window overlooking
She took a deep breath as Henry darted into the house and
started checking the place. She turned around and she found Killian looking at
her; his eyes mirroring her feelings.
“I know…” He
whispered as he pulled her into his arms. “It has a master bedroom with a view of
the sea, three more bedrooms, two bathrooms and a cozy little attic.” He smiled
at her as he tucked a strand of her behind her ear. “And before you ask, yes, we can afford it.”
She looked at the empty space, as her mind started to
picture a patchwork of their furniture combined in it.
“It seems perfect.”
“This is our home, Swan.” He replied, his eyes never leaving
“This is our happy ending?” She asked smirking.
He shook his head, “This isn’t where our story ends, love.
This is where it begins.” He brushed his lips against hers, “I love you.”
“And I love you.” She replied. “Show me the rest.”
montparnasse’s ambition is to fuck shit up and look as good as possible while doing it. soft-spoken and wide-eyed, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. he loves the taste of blood when it’s not his own, the acrid smell of expensive cigarettes and the expression most people get when they see him for the first time, men and women alike (unabashed lust). his knuckles are hardly ever red from a fistfight; montparnasse has always found knives and guns more elegant, more efficient.