#punkbruh

[celestial-hybrid]

Your dreads are literally perfect, anyone who says they're cultural appropriation is a doofus who literally doesn't know the first thing about the endless amount of cultures behind dreads. If someone is literally taking personal offense to dreads, they have a very shallow way of living life, and I feel extremely bad that a hairstyle is so upsetting to them. Those aren't the types of people who's opinions matter anyways. Keep being you.(:

<3 <3 <3 Thank you.I mean, I try to see things from an outside perspective and I have many different views and opinions on things like this... but right now I honestly can't wrap my mind around how or why a hairstyle (or someones appearance in general) could offend someone. Now if someone is mocking a different culture by dressing like them, basically making it all out to be a joke, then yes, that is offensive. But doing your hair a certain way.... I don't get it. :l

[thelucklessfoxdivines-blog]

Hello! Can I have a bibliomacy for Tithe if you are still doing free ones? That would be so wonderful!

A winged boy skipped up to her, grinning. "You smell like iron," he said, and reached out a finger to poke her side.

Kaye scuttled away from his hand to a chorus of laughter. Her eyes focused on the pale grasshopper green of the insect wings attached to the boy's back.

She pushed through the crowd, weaving past dancers leaping in complex intertwining circles, past a clawed hand that snatched at her ankle from beneath the heavy scarlet cloth on one of the tables, past what looked like a debauched living chess game.

A satyr with a curly beard and ivory horns was hunched over, carefully ripping the wing off a small faerie trapped in his meaty fist. The thing screeched, beating its other wing hummingbird-swift against the fingers that held it. Pale green blood dribbled over the goat-man's hand. Kaye stopped, stunned and sickened to watch as the satyr tossed the little creature in the air. It flew in desperate circles, spiraling to the earthen floor.

Before Kaye could step close and snatch it, the man's boot stamped down, smearing the faerie into the dust. -- page 146-147, Tithe by Holly Black

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