stuff for class

[nemesis-and-bride]

[nemesis-and-bride]

How to Make a Rag Rug

There are several methods of recycling old rags or torn clothing into rugs. Why not be eco-friendly, resourceful, and creative all in one go? Here are instructions for hooking, machine sewing, and braiding your soon-to-be rug. Obtain...

[runescratch]

I’ve been asked a lot about how I draw hoods, mostly Talon’s hood, so I hope this helps a little? Just a pretty basic thing but hey there ya go

Hoods are pretty cool, they usually have a lot of variety in how they can look (and sometimes people even wear two hoods at once) so just get creative with it and have fun

[deltainkmoved]

MIGHTY NEED

[nemesis-and-bride]

History[edit]

Fetish fashion has no specific origin point because certain fashions that were appreciated specifically for themselves or worn as part of a specific subculture have been noted since the earliest days of clothing. Some argue that the use of corsetry and hobble skirts back in the late 18th century was the first mainstream note of fetish fashions, because the majority of society did not have access to these articles. These items were specifically appreciated for themselves (i.e. the person liked the woman wearing the corset rather than just the woman by herself).

However, others argue that what is termed as fetish fashions started with the leather-wearing culture of the homosexual London, England underground after World War II. During this period, the homosexual men who began to use the rarely used leather clothing items were doing so publicly and in large-order as identification and separation from the norm. Perhaps more importantly, the leather clothing items were being appreciated for themselves, and not just for their functional use. However, others argue that this identification is too restrictive, and that fetish fashion includes more than just leather.

The leather subculture later became more mainstream in the British 1960s due to the influence of rock musicians such as The Rolling Stones and The Who, and television performers such as Diana Rigg and Honor Blackman in The Avengers, who wore full body leather catsuits and full limb-covering leather and latex gloves and boots.

Many fashion designers incorporate elements of the fetish subculture into their creations or directly create products based on elements that are not accepted by the mainstream.Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood created several restrictive BDSM-inspired clothing items for the 1970s punk subculture; in particular bondage trousers, which connect the wearer's legs with straps. The more recent fetish clothing makers House of Harlot and Torture Garden Clothing, Breathless of London, Vex Latex Clothing and Madame S of California focus on using latex and leather as the base material for their creations, rather than as an accessory.

[propisces]

Valentino - Fall Winter 2014 2015 + Details

[snarkenstone]

On the left we have the lyrics from Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. On the right we rape survivors participating in Project Unbreakable, showing the various things that were said to them by their rapist.

From the Mouths of Rapist: The Lyrics to Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines

[lacigreen]

i think this is the most powerful photoset i’ve ever seen on tumblr.

[lulabellexo]

Reblogging until you understand why this song is so vile

[nemesis-and-bride]

[joel]

[divasdishblog]

"People are perfectly happy to see women as sex objects, but the actual biologic of our bodies is apparently gross and unmentionable."

- Our Bodies, Ourselves.

[fokurs]

i couldn’t sleep all night, so i decided to stay up till 6am to catch the breathtaking sunrise that london has to offer :)

[dailystir]

[aseriesofnouns]

Rape culture is when I was six, and my brother punched my two front teeth out. Instead of reprimanding him, my mother said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?” When my only defense was my mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him. Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.” As if it was my sole purpose, the reason six-year-old me existed, was to not rile up my brother. It’s starts when we’re six, and ends when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to not “rile him up.” Right, mom? Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation, my father says that women who get raped are asking for it. He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City, with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.” When I used to be my father’s hero but will he think I was asking for it? (will he think) Will he think I deserved it? Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me, even though the touch of a man - especially my father’s - burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand. Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would be easier for your parents to find you dead, than to say, “Hey mom and dad,” It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it. I never asked for this attention, I never asked to be a target, to be weak because I was born with two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me, in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey. I never wanted to spend my life being something someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved. I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore. I will not let you eat me alive. Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass, because standing up for her body “makes me a target.” Women are afraid to speak up, because they fear their own lives - but I’d rather take the hit than live in a culture of silence. I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined by the DNA in my weaker, softer body. I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance. I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time. Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child. When he even has some form of a justification and all I have are the things that provoked him, and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin. Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me. A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee. There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take me years to methodically extract him from my body. And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later? Proof of the past. Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for. Somehow I am permanently inked. Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore without feeling dirty, without feeling like you somehow earned it. You will feel like you are walking on knives, every time you wear the shoes you smashed his nose in with. Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels, thinking, maybe this will heal me. Those shoes are your freedom, But the remains of a life long fight. You will always carry your heart, your passion, your absolute will to live, but also the shame and the guilt and the pain. I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives. Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were one of the lucky ones.” Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis, but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky. I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you. Thank you for being so kind. Rape culture is “things could have been worse.” “It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.” “You’ll have to get over this eventually.” “Don’t let it ruin your life.” Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you, no one would ever want you again. And you believed him. Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped, instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women. That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this. The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a slut, a whore, a bitch. The worst possible thing you can call a man is a bitch, a pussy, a girl. The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl. The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl. Being a woman is the ultimate rejection, the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the absolute insult. When I have a daughter, I will tell her that she is not an insult. When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight. I will look at her like the sun when she comes home with anger in her fists. Because we are human beings and we do not always have to take what we are given. They all tell her not to fight fire with fire, but that is only because they are afraid of her flames. I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that when she hears it, she will not question it. My daughter, Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love you have for yourself and the lengths you go to preserve it. My daughter, I am alive because of the fierce love I have for myself, and because my father taught me to protect that. He taught me that sometimes, I have to do my own bit of saving, pick myself off the ground and wipe the dirt off my face, because at the end of the day, there is only me. I am alive because my mother taught me to love myself. She taught me that I am an enigma - a mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and I must love myself enough to see how I turn out. I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me worth fighting for. And for that, I thank my parents. Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up, I will show her how to be exposed. Because no is not “convince me”. No is not “I want it”. You call me, “Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.” But I am not any of these things for you. I am exploding light, my daughter will be exploding light, and you, better cover your eyes.

slk

Rape Culture (Cover Your Eyes)

[stephanieoconnor04-deactivated2]

[wraptext-blog]

[optimuspham]

i hope that someone, somewhere, sees this and is actually affected by it enough to make a change. this is terrible.

Unacceptable.

[size10plz]

If you are or someone you know is in a situation where there is physical or emotional abuse here is a list of numbers and directories so you can get some help/advice for the situation. In an emergency call 911 or your country’s emergency service number if you need immediate assistance or have already been hurt.

In the US: Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or TTY 1-800-787-3224

Canada: call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-363-9010

UK: call Women’s Aid at 0808 2000 247

Australia: Call 1800RESPECT at 1800 737 732. The website also allows you to chat with a qualified and experienced counsellor

New Zealand: Women’s Refuge - 0800733843

Are You Ok - 0800 456 450 (the website is full of information and support services contacts for families experiencing violence).

Worldwide: Visit International Directory of Domestic Violence Agencies for a global lists of helplines, shelters, and crisis centres.

[emtheindividual]

no reason not to reblog this everyone

[likeafieldmouse-deactivated2015]

Hermann Nitsch - Oedipus (1990)

[sonyasupposedly]

Women are afraid of meeting a serial killer. Men are afraid of meeting someone fat.

When Strangers Click, a 2011 documentary about online dating.

It reminds me of that famous Margaret Atwood quote: “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” It also reminds me of something written by one of the mods of Sex Worker Problems: “Misandry irritates. Misogyny kills.”

I mean, it’s just true.

(via tealeafprincess)

[alexithymiadaily]

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