that was such an ideal weapon

Final lore, and goodbye.

Liliana had a strange life. At a young age te girl Lilith, lili, encountered a living weapon. one tha tspoke to her and informed her that she saved her. The girl would keep hold of the weapon, and slowly learn about it. it’s life and it’s kind. She learned that it was a Darkin, and was left by the wayside after caring for humans, as it was considered a weakness. the two grew close and eventually after the girl grew old the weapon offered her one gift. THe two of them work together,as she did not wish to see the girl’s life fade from her. Through that the darkin Aana would combine with Lili, and isntead of fighting for control the two would become one person. one mind with shared ideals, desires, and opinions. There was no conflict in their mind as two people became one.

This was not the end of their story however, as Lilith had become a rather important part i asmall village… with the help of the new life, she would expand. she would turn the village into a proper kingdom, creating their own independance and laws. She had been given the chance to further her dream that had been held back by age,and sicknesses. her kingdom would grown and she would haev lovers. despite being the ruler, her partners would not stay always. she woudl have a few women and a few males… things in her kingdom woudl be more peaceful than anywehre else, wehre nearly everything was fair.

There would be no true ‘upperclass’ or 'lower class’ those who fell on hard times would be helped, by those mroe frotunate. things would be nice, and life would be peaceful.

This is the culmination of every attempt at liliana i have done, and i’ve settled on what i liked the most. i nejoyed the set up that came with the new canon, but i can not put myself through trying to get things going here again. my time has come and gone with liliana and despite hitting 1500 at one point i am done. the effort to work with the canon, and get back into the community for an oc everyone is too afraid/intimidated by has taken it’s toll. Those who i used to rely on to get me going have receded to discord so i can’t rely on them to open my up to new people here anymore. I ahd ups and downs, i will miss my time with the lunari group two years ago. this is where i found my boyfriend, who i love very much and moved to live with him rather happily.

Thank you everyone for the good times, i’m glad you all enjoyed my writing. if you like the mun i can be added on discord at Aerient#1649. I have not left tumblr but this oc can not go further here despite my efforts.

Here’s how I think it happened

It should be obvious that Yellow Diamond was involved in Pink’s assassination, but what you might have forgotten is that Rose could not have done the dirty work. If Pink was in fact shattered with a sword then Rose’s sword would have been useless since

Bismuth: “I designed this sword for a fair fight. It can cut through a Gem’s physical form in an instant! Destroying the body, but never the Gem.”

But you know who does have a sword that could shatter PD?

Pearl!

If Pearl was Pink Diamond’s, and still was when the shattering happened, she would have been able to approach undetected because she was supposed to be there. That wouldn’t be Pearl’s only qualification: as a Pearl, and a defective one at that, Pearl had no rights. Yellow Diamond could have her shattered on the spot and it wouldn’t have been worse that breaking her sister’s hair brush. Futhermore, if Pearl told Pink Diamond, she Pink wouldn’t believe a Pearl over her sister

If Yellow Diamond ordered her to shapeshift into Rose Quartz and kill Pink Diamond, she would have no choice. Of course, the minute Pearl realized she was the only loose end she would have been forced to flee anyways.

Everyone: “Pearl can’t shapeshift!”

Can’t she? We’ve seen Pearl change her outfit on screen before, and according to Peridot their clothing is just a part of their bodies. We’ve seen Pearl change her outfit, but she always comes up with an excuse when it comes to changing her form. What if the reason is that she vowed never to use it again after using it to kill her diamond and frame Rose

Despite all the speculation about Rose being evil or at least a sociopath, do we have any doubt that Rose would forgive Pearl on the spot? She was coerced into framing Rose for something Rose probably planned on anyway!

Rose would take responsibility for the assassination and for that act of kindness Pearl would devote herself to Rose on the spot.

Everyone: “But then why didn’t Pearl and Garnet tell Steven?”

When have the gems ever been honest with Steven? Do you really think Pearl would admit to her own son that SHE murdered someone in cold blood and then let his bio mom take the rap? For all we know, not even Garnet knew the truth!

So where does this leave us? Is this all speculation? No, look at the facts again

  • Yellow poofed her own lawyer to silence the truth
  • Pink was killed by a sword that cannot have been Rose’s
  • Someone Pink trusted must have killed her
  • Her Pearl did not warn her in advance
  • Pearl uses a sword despite her gem weapon being a spear
  • Pearl can shapeshift but makes up excuses not to
  • Pearl was the ideal assassin, because she was supposed to be there and easily coerced

Can there be any doubt that Pearl is our culprit?

I rest my case your honor

It will forever tear me up whenever I am reminded of how Wonder Woman valued and exemplified empathy, kindness, idealism, and optimism (naive or otherwise). Balancing this fantastic juxtaposition of cute and tough, vulnerability and strength. Choosing to fight for goodness despite the presence of darkness. And then believing and embracing love as a weapon against this darkness. That movie was full of heart that I’m so overwhelmed with extreme emotions. It has further inspired me to always do what’s right and good for the welfare of other people and the betterment of this world. I genuinely wish it has and will also touch a great number of people’s lives.

The Pentagon has admitted it tested chemical weapons on soldiers of color during WWII.

After a long investigation, NPR reports that 60,000 black, Puerto Rican and Japanese-American soldiers were part of a Pentagon program to see how mustard gas impacted them physically. To make things worse, the testing on them may have been done on purpose to find an “ideal” soldier.

8

It was a period of great boredom.
The Wander Over Yonder Crew,
having one of several extended lunches,
discussed ideal cross-overs for their
beloved orange hairy spoon.

During the lunch, two
Staffers conceived of a
crossover with Disney’s ultimate weapon, STAR
WARS, a property so massive that
they’d never let us near it.

In a completely unofficial, fan art capacity,
those two staffers created a comic
about a strange encounter
somewhere in the galaxy…

Again, very very unofficial.  Entirely not for profit.  Please don’t sue us.

9

“Just what is an ‘ideal’? if you ask me, the answer is clear. It is a word written on the cover of my notebook. My notebook is omnipotent. It guides me as a principle, as a master, as a prophet. At times, it becomes a weapon and also a key.”

Kunikida Doppo for @kunikidaz​  ٩(◕‿◕)۶
Happy Birthday Chrys-san ♡( ◡‿◡ )


McCall Pack, Meet Riverdale

Summary: Your the sister of the late Allison Argent. Soon after her death your father, Chris Argent, Isaac Lahey and you move to France. Not long after you find yourself living with your Dad in his hometown. While Riverdale doesn’t have a supernatural mess, it sure does have a strange and mysterious murder.

Characters: daughter!reader x chris argent, reader x undetermined love interest, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, and Allison Argent (mentioned)

Words: 1933

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. I do not own Riverdale OR the characters, the show is based the Archie Comics which I do not own either. I also do not own any gifs, images or songs that may appear.

Warnings: possible swearing, mention of death, mention of murder, angst. Angry reader and allusion to the murder of Jason Blossom.

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: Ask if you want to be removed or added! At the bottom.

A/N: I’ve completely fallen in love with Riverdale mainly because I grew up reading the comics. IT’S AMAZING! With that being said I will be taking requests for Riverdale!

This is to hold you guys over because Ash and I will be unavailable for a little way. I have tons of homework and I’m not at liberty to say what Ash is busy at!

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Originally posted by 5secondsofwolf

Originally posted by daddario

You were humming to yourself as you walked into your house in the town that mimicked Beacons Hills just without the supernatural element. You had moved here when your dad decided moving to his hometown would be ideal following the harsh ending of your family. It wasn’t anything bad other than Allison had died and you wanted out. Riverdale was interesting but not like the dangers of living in Beacon Hills.

“Hey Dad?” You called from the porch. It had a few hidden places holding some weapons just in case.

“Sweetheart.” Your dad, Chris, asked from the dining room table. On the table was a bunch of weapons laid out to be cleaned, “Anything I can do for you?”

“I see it’s the weekly cleaning.” You chuckled as your eyes caught sight of Allison’s beloved Chinese daggers, “Want to order out?”

“Sure.” He chuckled tapping your nose, “You know what I like.”

You laughed before picking up the phone to call Pop’s diner. It was a short wait before you were able to place the order with the waitress. You were pretty sure she was the new waitress.

“It will be ready in twenty minutes.” She replied before the two of your exchanged goodbyes.

You sat at the table going about cleaning the weapons along with your dad. It was second nature and a bonding experience from the moment you learnt what the Argents really did. It was so second nature that your mind went back to the group of friends you had left behind.

Beacon Hills had been the first place that had become a strong permanent home since the moment you made friends. You cherished the times of happiness you had with your older sister and the pack. In the wise words of Robert Frost, nothing gold can stay. It was true.

“Do you want to go practice shooting?” Your dad asked nonchalantly.

“So soon after that death?”

“We’ve delt with worse and you know it.” He pointed a knife at you, “A murder like this is a hell of lot more welcome that the supernatural.”

“Someone still died.” You grumbled slumping down in your chair.

Chris sighed before glancing at the clock watching his remaining child sulk. Both had changed after Allison’s death for the better if you looked at it one way. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when her birthday rolled around and each locked themselves in their rooms.

“Go pick up the food.” He sighed tossing a pair of keys to you.

Without looking you caught them and hastily grabbed one of Allison’s daggers and pushing it into your boot. You quickly inserted the key to the car and drove the distance to the only good diner in town.

You sat there remembering the last time you had drove yourself, well more accurately when you drove. Stiles had been knocked out cold with an attack from the supernatural and you practically did illegal stunts to make it to the hospital.

“Get over it.” You mumbled to yourself as you opened the door of the diner. Inside was a remotely busy rush following the welcome back dance.

You hated dances. The last one your were at was sophomore year with Allison.

“Y/N!” Pop’s grinned, “You’ll have to hang tight, the deep fryer wasn’t working for a couple minutes.

You chuckled before settling into a booth with a good view outside. You watched as a group of teens laughed as they walked into the diner. You saw the resident hot shot Archie Andrews as his friends. Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones. You shifted as they sat int the booth across from yours. It reminded you of your favourite times with the pack.


It was late when the pack dragged their asses to the diner that sold adequately healthy fast food. A lot of your were limping or injured in some kind of way following the shit kicking you had received against the Alpha pack. Thankfully all was right again…for now.

“Is my head supposed to hurt this much?” Stiles groaned shaking his head as Scott patted his bed friend on the back.

“You were knocked unconscious in a car accident. It’s safe to say that yes it should be for the next little while.” Lydia chuckled as she fixed her hair once more.

“What happened to you guys!” A young waiter exclaimed at the sight.

“We were playing a game of football.” You lied quickly.

Placing your orders in you all began to laugh tryng to ease the heightened feelings from the win you had managed. It was a shame everyone was under age and the diner didn’t sell alcohol because you could use some. Inside you all had different kinds of drinks.

“To a safe Beacon Hills!” You exclaimed clinking glasses with everyone.

“For now.” Stiles said meetings everyone’s eyes, “We killed ourselves and came back. It’s going to get a lot worse isn’t it.”

“We can face it. Together. We’ll come out the same.” You said before taking a long sip of your milkshake.

Boy were you wrong on that one.


You shuffled as a tear rolled down your cheek and you brushed it off. You hated thinking of those times at the same time. You missed them so much but in agreement with your dad you both needed to be away. It couldn’t be going to bad given no calls had happened.

“Y/N right?”

You looked over to see Betty looking at you concerned. The others watched the interaction with the same expectations. Veronica and Archie had already tried to make friends with you when you arrived in the summer but you wouldn’t have it.

“Yes.” You grumbled irritated by the tears wanting to move down your cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” You practically hissed before pulling the sleeves of your sweater down further, “Go back to gossiping.”

“We aren’t gossiping, man your one very angst teen.” Jughead said watching you.

“Says you.You’ve been attached to your computer since that kid was killed.”  You groaned leaning back but it stopped when the diner door slammed open with a strong force.

It was too strong so you were on your feet in a defensive position with the Chinese dagger neatly swinging in your hand. You heard a gasp from Betty as the dagger glinted in the dark lighting. Your head tilted as the frantic person landed their eyes on you with a friend sharing the same movements.

“Scott? Stiles?” You exclaimed shocked before the spazzing teenager harshly dragged you out of the diner. A concerned and worried Archie Andrews frantically followed you out with his friends.

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Do you want a part 2? If so let us now and it can be longer, if you want?

PART TWO

My Secret

I was in third grade when I found out. I sat in my class like any other day, quietly working on the project we’d been assigned. We had pen pals we were writing to in Germany and I remember how excited I was to finish my letter, in which I had written all about my love for Dinosaurs.

It was Joshua Mable who asked the question, I still remember the way his hand rose slowly into the air, his eyes looking down at the ground.

My teacher was a kind woman, with wrinkles around her eyes and a crooked smile. But his question knocked that toothy grin to the floor.

“Mrs. Wiz..? I told my parents about our project and my dad used a word I don’t understand. What’s a Nazi?”

Silence filled the room and my teacher, a woman I admire to this day for her positivity, suddenly looked grim.

“Well Josh, I think you should ask your parents that question. It doesn’t seem my place to tell you all about that. You’ll learn one day.”

But that was my day, the day my eyes would be opened to who I was. That day, I went home to my parents. That day, I asked them what a Nazi was. That day, they told me the truth.

My dad has always been a straight forward man, he doesn’t believe in fluffing up stories. So he sat me down, and I still remember the tears in his eyes, and he explained to me everything. The hatred, the anger, the horror. All of it. No detail was omitted. I remember feeling sick, like rats were eating at my stomach lining.

For as long as I can remember, I had always seen the good in people, believed that no one was truly evil. That belief changed when my dad explained to me about the hundreds of thousands of innocent men, women and children who had been slaughtered for no reason other than their religious beliefs. I hated them, I hated these Nazis he spoke about. My father then said something that shattered how I would look at myself in the mirror to this day.

“My mothers father, Carrie, was a Nazi. Not by choice, but because the Nazi’s threatened to kill his family. So he adopted their beliefs, did what they asked. And yes, before he died on the battlefield, he told them to escape to America, but I won’t lie to you and say that our family isn’t flawed. Our journey here, to this country, was not filled with hope for a better life, but regret and shame for the lives they had left behind.”

I was nine years old and my life crashed around me. I didn’t understand the reasoning behind my great grandfathers actions, only what his actions had been and I was repulsed. In my veins ran blood that had fought for anger and hatred and bigotry. I looked in the mirror and suddenly hated the blonde hair and blue eyes that looked back at me. I was a child who was suddenly, painfully aware of an ugly history, and the importance that it never repeat itself.

Every day after that, I dedicated my life to getting my family out of the red, to erase that darkness with light. I vowed to show love and compassion, acceptance and tenderness. It became my mission to eradicate the Nazi idealisms from the face of the planet, one stupid privileged middle school brat at a time.

As I’ve grown older, I see now that my great grandfather was just afraid for his family, for his two babies and his tough little wife. I forgave him for what he was, for the choices he made but I did not forget.

For years I was ashamed of who I was, because my heritage was, to me, ugly. When people asked about my history, I lied and said I didn’t know.

But now, in light of everything that’s happened, I’ve chosen to share my secret. Because it is impossible to express how it feels, to live everyday of your life FIGHTING against these disgusting beliefs, trying to prove that there is goodness in this world, trying to make up for the pain and suffering that was caused by your family, only to wake up one morning, turn on the news, and see that a Nazi rally took place within the country that my family fled to to escape that hateful mentality.

My grandmother, Irmgard, chose to live in an all Jewish community after she moved to Philadelphia. When my father asked her why, when their house was constantly vandalized by the neighbors and she was constantly harassed for her heritage, she looked at him with shame in her eyes and said, “Because I deserve this, Burt. Because this is how I forgive myself. If this gives them even a shred of closure, then I will endure it gladly.”

She gave up her heritage, choosing to never cook German food or speak her native tongue within her household as a punishment to herself. This woman, who survived a Russian Gulag, felt that she hadn’t suffered nearly enough to make up for her fathers choices.

To see that she tortured herself for nothing, that my father watched his mother die still loathing herself, to see that this thing I have fought my entire life to try to destroy is still alive and thriving, makes me weep. It makes me sob in agony.

I feel like that nine year old girl again, choking on nothing, eyes red and burning. I am more than upset, I am disgusted and discouraged by the actions of those people.

And so I decided that it was time my secret came out. That I share this thing that has haunted me for so long, that drove me to read every holocaust book and watch every movie so that I would NEVER forget the pain that was caused. To remind myself of why I owe it to the world to be better than history, to choose the high and hard road rather than the low and easy one.

Why now? Why tell my most heavily guarded shame now? Because I want those fuckers to see. I want them to see what their actions do to their children, grandchildren and their great grandchildren. I want them to see that who they are, is repulsive and that their descendants will dedicate their lives to destroying what they stood for.

I want those fuckers to know that their actions are in vain, that they will lose. That maybe this is why I have felt this pain since I was nine years old, so that one day, when this situation would arise, I could stand up and show them that they will fail. That their posterity will not be filled with hatred as they so wish but with love and kindness, and with a sense of duty to help their fellow man regardless of religion, sexuality, gender or race.

I stand with the Jewish Community, and with the BLM movement, I stand with every member of the LGBTQ Community and I will stand as a feminist no matter what. I will go to my grave fighting to destroy the ideals that my ancestors once defended. I stand against Nazi’s and White Supremacists, as I have since I first understood what those things meant.

I will show them that their actions and views do not have support. That the descendants of the people they revere DO NOT stand with them. That in the end, all that enormous amount hatred they harbor, will have equal and opposite reactions.

My secret is out, and it will be my weapon.

my favorite thing about Corporal Carrot is that he’s a romantic hero plopped right in the middle of the greediest cesspit of a chaotic neutral city ever to debase the pages of literature, and yet instead of having his shining idealism destroyed by an uncaring reality, he makes reality embarrassedly put down the weapons and agree to make nice, and then mutter an awkward “Good morning” whenever it passes him on the street.

African Wonder Woman


I saw these kids, 2 sisters, having a play fight. While striking their favorite Power Ranger poses, one of them declared:

“You can’t touch me! I have super powers!!”

“What super powers?” Asked the other.

“I’m Wonder Woman!!

Unfazed, the other replied:

“Well…I’m an AFRICAN Wonder Woman so you can’t beat me!”

I was Floored. Never in my life had I seen such a powerful assertion, spoken so matter of factly, from a child no less. To see such pride taken in her people, to see African-ness wielded like a weapon superior to any Superman, Batman or Wonderwoman cemented within me our responsibility to teach our children a profound love and reverence for our culture, for African-ness. What also resonated with me was this child’s understanding that this reverence for our culture serves as a power source to strengthen us and is key in our fight for liberation. She understood that African-ness is something to be revered as well as weaponized and used to fuel out struggle. She understood that African-ness is a super power and she is our African Wonderwoman. Kudos to their parents because these babies are a shining example of a conscious subversion of the white supremacist ideals our children are bombarded with the moment they enter the world. This is what we need to foster in our children, an unshakeable pride in their skin. It starts in the household. Ofcourse, before we can nurture it in our children, we have to nurture it in ourselves. African-ess is a grounding, self-affirming energy to imbue within our selves and a weapon to wield against our oppressors. Its a reminder of our African, radical tradition of struggle and perseverance. It’s an evocation of the enduring strength of our ancestors, an inextinguishable spirit that burns within us today. We all have this superpower; we just need to activate it.

IG: TheMightyDexter
Tumblr: DexterSaintJacques

DeCarrington Dressing Guide Part Two

As promised, it’s part two of the DCDG! Want to look more like an elegant lady and less like a dumpster fire? Then read on.

In part one, I talked about some basics between male and female shapes, which I’m going to go into a bit more detail on today.

Shoulders to Hip Ratio 

Take a look at these two below. I’ve used ‘lines’ on a ‘computer’ to draw a line down from where the edge of the shoulder would be, more or less in line with the clavicle. (Apologies for the shutterstockness, I am too poor to spend money on stockphotos for the purpose like this)

As we can see, on the male figure there is a clear space between the line and the hips, whilst the wider hips of the female character do not have this. What we need to do is either make the shoulders appear smaller, or the hips bigger, or ideally, both. So lets look at options.

Making shoulders appear smaller.

If we think of the male torso as being an “inverted v” shape, this is what leads to top heaviness in looks i.e. too much going on up top, not enough below the waist (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID) So to neutralise, this, we use the opposite shape with clothes. That is, less towards the shoulders, and more towards the waist and below.

Of course I don’t mean literally, or we’d end up looking like this:

BACK ON TRACK

Remember that bit from part one about dark colours receding? Well, that’s what we’re going to use here. Using dark colours on the top half will create the illusion of them being smaller, especially if you are wearing a lighter coloured skirt for example. One thing I do often is to wear a black skinny jacket, to hide arms and shrink my top half.

Certain necklines will work better to minimise chunky shoulders- V necks make the torso appear longer, as do most plunging necklines. Halter tops are great too (90s revival is in at the moment) and scoop necks soften necklines. Just make sure you shave your chest though! 

There are definitely shapes to avoid though- bardot tops are everywhere at the moment, and sadly these are a no no if you have broad shoulders, the visible skin will make your shoulders look broad. Same with wide boat necks. Strapless dresses will also make you look broad, which can make finding prom dresses a pain! (You can hide them with a bolero or shrug though.)

Look for these things:

  • V necks
  • Halter Tops
  • Wide straps
  • Diagonal sleeves
  • Kimono sleeves
  • Narrow lapels and collars
  • Long necklaces

Avoid these:

  • Bardot tops
  • Strapless tops
  • Wide necklines
  • Thin straps
  • Ruffled/detailed/embellished shoulders
  • Shoulder pads
  • Wide collars/lapels



Strapless dress? Use a bolero to hide them shoulders. 

Making the hips appear wider.

Once, again we can use optical illusions to alter our silhouettes. Have you heard that a short person should never wear horizontal stripes? Well, that’s cos the’ll make things appear wider, which is ideal for us. Horizontal striped skirts have this effect. Perfect!

Certain skirt shapes will be better too, skirts with a bit of volume are much easier to style then pencil skirts. This is another article in itself! 

There is another weapon though:

Padding

To push the shoulder to hip ratio to a slightly more workable one, what you can do is use padding. I usually wear padded boyshorts, as they help give me a bit more hip and bum. If I’m wearing a pencil skirt I’ll often put a little bit of extra foam padding in them too to create curves.

There’s also stick on silicon hip pads you can get, but they’re pretty pricey so I’ve not tried them yet. (Maybe I should get an amazon wishlist and put some on it!) 

Using a combination of the above, plus if you are lucky with genetics, you may be able to break some of the above rules, but generally I stick to the above.

Next time I think I’ll look at creating a waist, and proportions. 

Keep it Regal

IdC

Syndicate of Fallen Angels | TAEYONG

Genre: spy/mafia!au | fluff | angst

Member: Taeyong / Reader

Word Count: 12,600+

Warnings: language, graphic violence, imprisonment, mild(?) torture

NOTE: The incredible art accompanying this piece was created by the absolutely wonderful, talented @4chengs, thank you from the bottom of my heart for collaborating with me on this! 

Also, the premise for this fic was heavily inspired by a manga I read years ago, but I can’t for the life of me find it and link it. 

Keep reading

Gigi Hadid and Zayn Malik Are Part of a New Generation Who Don’t See Fashion as Gendered

Midway through Virginia Woolf’s novel Orlando, a startling transformation takes place: Our hero, Duke Orlando, awakens from a seven-day slumber to find that he has switched genders. “Orlando had become a woman,” Woolf writes, “but in every other respect, Orlando remained precisely as he had been. The change of sex, though it altered their future, did nothing whatever to alter their identity.”

He becomes they. The pronouns shift, but the person remains the same. Woolf’s words, written in 1928, could easily be mistaken for a manifesto posted yesterday on Tumblr, the preferred platform for the growing cohort of “fluid” young people who, like Orlando, breezily crisscross the XX/XY divide. Fashion, of course, has taken note of the movement, which is sufficiently evolved to boast its own pinups, including Jaden Smith, recently the star of a Louis Vuitton womenswear campaign, and androgynous Chinese pop star (and Riccardo Tisci muse) Chris Lee. But where, exactly, is someone neither entirely he nor she meant to shop? And how, exactly, is such a person to be defined?

“They don’t want to be defined,” says Olivier Rousteing, creative director of Balmain, one of the many designers taking inspiration from the trend. “You see boys wearing makeup, girls buying menswear—they are not afraid to be who they are. This category or that category—who cares? They want to define themselves.”

This gender-bending approach to fashion has begun to achieve critical mass in pop culture and on the catwalk, with Alessandro Michele dressing his Gucci girlsin dandyish suits and his Gucci boys in floral and brocade, actress Evan Rachel Wood wearing Altuzarra tuxedos on the red carpet, Pharrell Williams gallivanting down the Chanel runway in a tweed blazer and long strings of pearls, and rapper Young Thug posing on the cover of his mixtape in a long ruffled dress. More broadly, designers such as Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons at Calvin Klein are knitting their men’s and women’s collections together, showing them on the same catwalk and twinning certain looks—identical fabrics, identical embellishments, nearly identical silhouettes.

This new blasé attitude toward gender codes marks a radical break. Consider the scene one recent morning out in Montauk, New York, where the photos accompanying this story were shot: Gigi Hadid and Zayn Malik snuggle in interchangeable tracksuits as, nearby, Hadid’s younger brother, Anwar, rocks back and forth on a tire swing, his sheer lace top exposing scattered tattoos. For these millennials, at least, descriptives like boy or girl rank pretty low on the list of important qualities—and the way they dress reflects that.

“I shop in your closet all the time, don’t I?” Hadid, 22, flicks a lock of dyed-green hair out of her boyfriend’s eyes as she poses the question.

“Yeah, but same,” replies Malik, 24. “What was that T-shirt I borrowed the other day?”

“The Anna Sui?” asks Hadid.

“Yeah,” Malik says. “I like that shirt. And if it’s tight on me, so what? It doesn’t matter if it was made for a girl.”

Hadid nods vigorously. “Totally. It’s not about gender. It’s about, like, shapes. And what feels good on you that day. And anyway, it’s fun to experiment… .”

Anwar, eavesdropping, pipes up. “We’re chill!” he calls out from a picnic table not far away. “People our age, we’re just chill. You can be whoever you want,” he adds, ambling over, “as long as you’re being yourself.”

This is how you can tell a paradigm shift has taken place: when a fresh way of seeing a thing seems like common sense. Once, the Earth was flat; then it was round—at which point, of course it was. Likewise, for eighteen-year-old Anwar Hadid and many of his peers, gender is a more or less arbitrary distinction, a boundary that can be traversed at will. Maybe that leads you to call yourself agender or bigender or demiboy or mostly girl—or maybe it just means that you and your significant other share a wardrobe. Either way, there’s a terrific opportunity for play.

It’s this space that fashion designers have rushed into. Alessandro Michele, whose recent Gucci shows have been at the epicenter of fashion’s genderquake, says that he treats traditional feminine and masculine wardrobe codes as if they were a language, a score, a dictionary.

“I use them to rewrite a story,” Michele explains. “I find it fascinating to break and mystify them in order to reinvent them in a different way. I create space for a personal interpretation.”

Jonathan Anderson, meanwhile, sees his blurring of gender lines in aesthetic terms. When he included dresses in his fall 2013 J.W.Anderson menswear collection, the aim, he says, was “to play with new moods and silhouettes; to find newness.” Hence his surprise when the U.K. tabloids responded with wrath. “Men in dresses! Shock! Horror!” Anderson says, laughing. “I’m not sure the world was ready for what we were doing.” But he stuck to his guns—and now there’s a whole wave of British menswear designers challenging traditional notions of masculinity, including Martine Rose, who claims fans such as A$AP Rocky and Rihanna, and Grace Wales Bonner, winner of the 2016 LVMH Prize for Young Fashion Designers.

“I’m playing with elements that might be considered feminine, but always in pursuit of an ideal of male beauty,” Wales Bonner says. “Are there versions of male beauty that incorporate flamboyance and vulnerability?”

Of course there are: Think Prince and David Bowie, both of whom scrambled male and female fashion codes in the name of liberation. For more current examples, think of James Charles, the eighteen-year-old makeup fanatic tapped last year as CoverGirl’s first-ever male campaign star—or the gender-blurring members of the art collective House of Ladosha featured in the upcoming New Museum exhibition “Trigger: Gender as a Tool and a Weapon.” Or check out the Instagram belonging to New York City man-about-town Richie Shazam.

“Fashion allows me to break the rules,” says Shazam, 27, who has earned a fervent following for his distinctive his/hers look. “I adorn and embellish myself, play with makeup and jewelry, and just put on clothes that are beautiful. Through fashion, I get to explore my own ideas about what’s manly.”

Women, of course, have been permitted to explore different iterations of femininity for some time—men are merely playing catch-up. But there is something new in the way women now buck social mores: Conventional notions of “sexiness” are being refused point-blank. When model and actor Ruby Rose uploaded “Break Free” in 2014, the video—which shows Rose transforming from a made-up, minidress-clad, long-locked Barbie into a cropped-cut and tattooed androgyne—went viral, with 28 million viewers and counting. Suddenly the notion that a person could dwell in a state of sexual flux was a trending topic.

“When I came out, I came out as trans,” says Tyler Ford, the agender poet and activist who first found fame as Miley Cyrus’s date to the amfAR gala in 2015. “I felt like you had to choose—that there were only two boxes you could tick, and if I had to pick one, maybe boy felt more right. But it never felt entirely right. Then I read about being non-binary online, and it was, like, Aahhhh… .

“I’m a college dropout,” Ford continues. “I’ve never taken a queer-theory course. But the ideas are trickling down via the Internet, and they make intuitive sense to me. I am who I am, and I just want to exist as myself.”

I just want to exist as myself. This is a generation’s cri de coeur, and if technology has enabled its elevation as a rallying cry, technology also accounts for the intensity of millennials’ drive to resist categorization. Social-media natives, they’ve been trained from childhood to maintain profiles on Instagram or Facebook that can reduce a person to a list of biographical data or a face among faces competing for “likes”—or function as platforms to transmit a complex, sui generis identity.

“I have a friend who identifies as ‘all boy, all girl, all male, all female,’” says Gypsy Sport designer Rio Uribe, who is known for his party-like fashion shows cast with pals from all along the gender spectrum. “It’s like—what is that? But it doesn’t matter what it is.” Eluding the labels, constructing an identity apart—for Uribe, that’s “a clapback to a society that wants to define you.”

For a demographic so keenly attuned to being looked at, style serves as a convenient means of liberation. And so it’s always been, as Marc Jacobs points out.

“These kids—I’m not sure they’re any different from the people I saw at Danceteria or Mudd Club in the eighties,” Jacobs says. “The difference is that back then, the expression—extreme looks, cross-dressing, what have you—was hidden away in a speakeasy or a club. Today, thanks to the Internet, that culture is widely exposed.”

Young New York–based brands such as Gypsy Sport, Eckhaus Latta, Vaquera, and Chromat are doing the same thing—striking out from the safe space of the club to bring their anything-goes ethos to the runway and the street.

Millennials like Gigi Hadid have taken this new freedom to heart. “One day you can be this,” she says, watching as Malik is buttoned into a bedazzled Gucci blazer, “and another day you can do that.”

Over the course of a few short years, that craving for latitude has manifested a trend that’s electrified fashion, transforming not only the look of clothes but the ways they are presented and sold. Chances are, there’s no going back—though a man in a dress or a woman who doesn’t shave her legs and prefers not to be called “she” is still an affront in many places. But if this month’s cover stars are anything to go by, the momentum is all in the direction of attitude, not gender, as the all-important marker of a human being.

“If Zayn’s wearing a tight shirt and tight jeans and a big, drapey coat,” Hadid says, “I mean—I’d wear that, too. It’s just about, Do the clothes feel right on you?”

Malik shoots Hadid a tender look and joins the conversation.

“With social media, the world’s gotten very small,” he says, “and it can seem like everyone’s doing the same thing. Gender, whatever—you want to make your own statement. You know? You want to feel distinct.”

Read the full article at Vogue.

“I prefer intelligence to beauty” doesn’t make you deep, you’re literally just replacing one ill-defined social standard based on the interests of the privileged, with another.

Both ideas are social constructs and they’re both being defined by the same white supremacist, classist, ableist cisheteropatriarchy.

When people think about what it means to be intelligent, we largely imagine the kinds of intelligence likely to be found in wealthy abled white cishet men, discounting the contributions of anyone else, with notable exceptions who are praised for their resemblance to those same powerful white men - just as when people think of beauty we’re trained to think of a white wealthy thin abled cis woman, and anyone else can only be beautiful by resembling that narrow ideal.

“What does it mean to be intelligent?” is a question with as infinitely many answers as “What does it mean to be beautiful?” but they’re both shrunk into tiny narrowly-defined boxes in order to be used as tools for maintaining power. Both constructs should be aggressively questioned and reimagined in order to become something other than weapons against those who do not hold social power.

I Got You Part 1

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Summary:  Sam and Dean rescue reader from captivity.  Who held her captive?  Why?

Word Count:  1484

Warnings:  Violence (alluded to)

As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.  Tags are at the bottom. There’s still room on my Forever Tags.  Add yourself here.

Originally posted by frozen-delight

I Got You Part 1

The room is dank and musty, the mattress stained. It’s hard as a rock and has a distinct, yet unidentifiable odor, but it’s infinitely better than the floor. It’s been difficult to keep track of time in this cell, but it’s a fruitless endeavor with no windows and no regular meals to help you chart the beginning and end of a day.  

Your stomach rumbles in protest, it’s been empty for what seems like an eternity. Meals were coming at least once a day as far as you could tell, but nothing today. You ration the small amount of water that you’ve been given carefully. It seems as if maybe you’ve been abandoned or forgotten, but most likely the deprivation is a new form of torture.

The dim light bulb that flickers intermittently overhead illuminates the bruises that speckle your body. The oldest marks have faded from purplish-blue to a mottled green. The colors of your skin map a timeline of sorts, the older bruises indicating that it’s been a week at least in the hellish prison. There’s a particularly gnarly gash along your calf from a dull blade and at least two of your ribs are broken. Walking your fingers along your jawline, you touch the tender skin. Your lower lip has been split open and hurts like a bitch. Honestly, you’ve been worse, all things considered.

Still, you don’t know why you’re here. Monsters - monsters you can deal with. It’s humans that are fucking scary.

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anonymous asked:

Something I've always wondered: how practical are throwing knives/axes in a fight? What's to prevent them from spinning too fast/too slow and hitting with the non-bladed end?

Throwing axes are fairly practical. At least, they saw a fair amount of use historically. They’re light weight, and easy enough to train on, but still retain enough mass to do considerable damage on impact.

Throwing knives are more of a novelty trick. They lack the mass of an axe, and are a lot more finicky to connect with. You can throw them, but it’s not a great option.

Spin speed is controlled by the thrower. Really, this one is that simple. It’s a skill they need to practice. As I said earlier, knife throwing is trickier. It’s very easy to screw that up and accidentally connect with the hilt, if you don’t know what you’re doing. In contrast, axe throwing is fairly easy. On contact, the mass of the head will do most of the work for you, so even botching a throw so the haft connects first will usually result in a hit (somewhere). Ideally, with an axe, you want the weapon to make one complete rotation in air, and connect head first.

-Starke

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hi ok so i haven’t seen this in the tag or anything yet, but have you considered that maybe the reason goro uses light swords and ray guns, which are essentially toys, is bc he was never able to be a child? the whole essence of dressing up as a prince/hero and fighting for justice is extremely juvenile and so having these “fake” weapons pushes that whole ideal that he’s trying to get revenge and make up for his lost childhood. even early on in the game, you know he’s not able to be a normal high school student. he has to keep up his fame/appearance as a celebrity and therefore probably has to remain mature and composed, and he bikes all around the city to find conversation material or eats at fancy restaurants so he can appeal to adults, and he never concerns himself with regular high school student activities other than schoolwork and entrance exams. so even now that he’s out of the whole foster care system, he still can’t sit back and enjoy his youth and I think his whole crow facade reflects that

Kill Zone - Part 3: Past and Prestent

Characters: Reader (Special Agent Y/N Singer), Sam Winchester, Special Agent Castiel Novak,  Dean Winchester,   

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: Dean is an ass,talk of murder, all the usual for this series.

Word Count: 2900ish (a bit short I am sorry!)

A/N: This is a serial killer AU of sorts. Not the typical kind, but it has all the deaths and violence this kinda AU bring with it. It was sorta inspired by Criminal Minds and that is why my agents are profilers.

This series will have deaths, violence, love, heartwarming moments and everything in between. I am hereby warning you for yet another rollercoaster ride led by me ;)

Thanks to the amazing @percywinchester27 for being my advisor and beta on this one.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Technical terms: 

Primary Crime Scene: The location where the killer held/murdered his victim rather than secondary crime scene where he placed her. In this case, where he tortured her.

Zone: The area assigned to one park ranger to patrol

MASTERLIST

You were angry. You weren’t sure why, but you were furious even as you sat in the small bar with your partner and your college friend. You pretended to know why you were fuming. You pretended it was because Dean had left you in the middle of nowhere on your own. You pretended it was because he had abandoned the case, you so desperately had hoped he would help you and Cas crack wide open.

He had been helpful just like you knew he would be. He had figured the line of projection faster than any of the FBI’s technicians had. Who had all been wrong at that too. No evidence had been found in the place they had suspected the bullet had originated from, but there were clear marks after the footing for the gun as well as empty gun casings in both places Dean had pointed you too. He had been right and he had just walked away. How could he just walk away from a gift like that?

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