but beautiful and horrible

i was watching this video about dieting in k-pop today, and i’m horrified? i think that dieting and starving yourself is way too normalized in the entertainment industry in Korea..i honestly do think that a lot of idols are suffering from body issues, anxiety about weight, and even eating disorders. fans are just making it all the more worse with their constant criticism of idol’s bodies; when idols gain weight, they’re called pigs and called lazy, and when they lose weight and become very skinny, fans say they look emaciated, disgusting, scary, and that they should be ashamed of themselves. these beauty standards are horrible, and fans really aren’t helping. i’ve pretty much low-key reached the conclusion that all companies in the entertainment industry are somewhat shady, and it really freaking sucks. managers should not be policing what idols are eating..and not even just that, idol’s lives in general shouldn’t be restricted as much as they are? they’re people, too, and they should be allowed to date, drink, have sex, etc.. and if there’s one thing that i hate about k-pop, it’s that companies and fans feel so entitled and think that they can control idols. and honestly, there’s just a point when it gets to be too much. like, i will forever be horrified by sasaengs, and people that fucking cut members names onto their skin and chop of their fingers and shit, and people that fucking hold up signs asking idols to “rape them”, and koreaboos, and i could go on but…i’m just so done with how problematic fans + companies can be..anyway, @ all of you problematic fans, your faves don’t belong to you, you’re never going to grow up and marry them, and they don’t owe you anything, so just stop being delusional. they’re humans, too. please remember that. 


I love that you can see Magnus moving closer and putting his hands to Alec’s waist.

(I wish it was more visible in the frame, but if that’s the price to be paid in order to have a closer shot of the kiss — I’ll take it!)


The Signs and w̸̡̛͇͙͚͎̯̪̜̖̻̣͕̘̼͍̯̦̮̳͠h̫͓͖̦̠̯̰̜̥̰̲̝̻͈̮͘͘͢ͅa͏̵͚̻͓͈͕͔͍̟͕t̵̵̡͍̺͓̜̻̺̞̻̰͙͙͢

Aries: A harbinger of death and ill tidings, a specter of ill fortune across almost every culture on earth. Very pettable.

Taurus: Something long lived. So long lived that its scales have layers like the earths crust. Long forgotten weather systems trapped beneath its hide.

Gemini: One of many, or many of one, or a single part of a larger but singular whole. The roots go deep.

Cancer: Four black wings like a storm, talons remarkably like whaling hooks and a face of flawless white porcelain. 

Leo: An artificial guardian that completed its job too well. It fears fire.

Virgo: A collector of the blind and lost. Those who could see its face would never trust it.

Libra: What used to be worshiped as a god of the hunt, now trapped in a tangle of roots and cabled under a post-soviet radio tower.

Scorpio: Something that can speak several things at once. Its voice is maddening but it desires companionship.

Ophiuchus: Something that seems to think it is a doctor of some sort.

Sagittarius: Bits of feeling and memory from a thousand thousand wearers simply expanding to fill the space.

Capricorn: Something that learned its purpose and then proceeded to hunt and kill the person responsible. 

Aquarius: A memory of something. As it moves it leaves an afterimage.

Pisces: Something that was never supposed to happen, an accidental production of a horrible process. Beauty from nothing. 

A plus sized girl finding genuine love for herself is not just some inspirational story.

It’s not “omg that poor fat girl can somehow love herself even with her burden of fatness”.

Please stop talking about fat women like their bodies are a tragedy and it’s so inspirational for them to be able to love their “horrible” body. Their bodies are beautiful. Every body is beautiful. No body is a tragedy.

I love the ACOTAR series, but I think I’d adore a version of it where fairies (and High Fae too) are a bit weirder and dangerous and monstrous and inhuman: still beautiful, but beautiful in a way that is not uber-movie-star perfection, but a wicked, disturbing and definitively otherwordly thing. 

Like, Tamlin would still be the High Lord of spring, sure - but his hair would be actual flowers, closing and blossoming with twilight and dawn, and antlers on his head, and maybe sometimes, when he’s sleeping or fighting or fucking, thorns would spread from under his skin, bleeding with wild roses.

Rhysand would still be breath-takingly handsome - but he’d be a sleek, smoky thing of moon and dark, pianist fingers ending in talons he can’t hide, and raven’s feathers instead of hair. His eyes would stil be lovely and violet-blue, but they’d be an actual moonlit sky - with stars slowly spinning in them, and a solitary moon rising and waning where pupils should be.

Mor would still be herself, but a tad more like the Celtic Goddess she takes her name from: sweet and silvery, refreshing like clear water, with hair spun in starlight tumbling down her shoulders and snagging in her amor, the maiden and the mother. But then she’d step on the battlefield, and warriors would fall at her blade, and then her cheeks would flush crimson, her eyes bleeding red, and she’d be beautiful and horrible at the same time, beaming with silver light, a quartz princess of the dark caves of her kin.

Elain would get out of the Cauldron with fawn’s velvety ears, vines and blossoms spiraling and spreading across her skin, almost tattoos, shifting with the sun and her emotions. At first, they’d stay tightly closed - shivering and wrinkled liker her soul. And Lucien would have true fox ears, and clever, gold-flicked fox eyes, and his ears would tremble with delight the first morning he would make one of Elain’s blossoms open to him.

Nesta would forever be beautiful, but she would never be lovely again. The Cauldron didn’t leave her any softness, any warmth, any sweetness of features or shape. Looking at the sharp planes of her face, at the bloody-red slash of her lips is like looking at the jagged peaks of a mountain - at white wood washed over a shore, polished and hard and dead. She mourns her youth in secret: she mourns whatever girl-like beauty she has ever had, that scrap of Elain that used to live in her. Now she looks like a monster. She looks like something you should be scared of. But Cassian has teeth, predator’s teeth, and his hands have claws, and when he’s holding her she’s not afraid he will be scared. 

Maybe they’ll devour each other, but they’ll do it together.

And Feyre…  Feyre would find herself with new joints, new hands - with eyes that could see clearer and wider than ever before, but that are also pure pools of black, with no pupil no iris and no white. Her teeth are sharp - they tear through her lovers’ skin and don’t stop till they draw blood. And there’s something of the forest in her, too, of the woods where she had made herself a hunter: twigs and leaves growing amidst her hair, corsets made of leather and oakwood, so that when she’s running through the trees she looks like a sprite or a pixie - barefoot, quiver on her back, fangs bared in pleasure. She passes by with the rustling of fallen leaves, the whisper of squirrels and owls’ wings. You wouldn’t know she’s behind you till she’ll lean in to kiss your cheek, or stop your heart.

“Feyre darling,” this strange star-eyed Rhys would say, cupping the cheek of his wood-made girl, holding her close so feathers and twigs would mix together, and they would smile mirror fanged smiles, and they would still be beautiful.


“She went to visit your papa.”

oKAY BUT everyone would be at least double as upset with him because Gracia is an unarmed housewife and also Maes’ wife and everyone knows that they’re literally made for eachother and that she’d never kill him but Roy ‘burned her to death’ despite the few evidences there are and that’s just??? not to mention that he technically ‘turned Elicia into an orphan’

he’s the beauty; she’s the beast

so i’m sure the remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is going to be great and all

but here’s another way we could do things:

he’s the beauty

she’s the beast

for a movie who’s central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that, you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?

so how about this – this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.

so the witch comes, and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this castle, won’t let her in.

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