lesanneeselegantes:

Manuel Bujados - Illustration for C.Baudelaire’s poem ‘Les Bienfaits de la Lune’ - La Esfera - 1920

lesanneeselegantes:

Manuel Bujados - Illustration for C.Baudelaire’s poem ‘Les Bienfaits de la Lune’ - La Esfera - 1920

fantasticallyficticious:livesandliesofwizards:


At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.
Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.
They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.
“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”
If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.
Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.
~
The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.
This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.
Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 
The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.
~
The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.
They were worried they would have to be kind.
They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.
Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.
Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.
(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

THIS WAS SO STINKIN CUTE EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ THIS

fantasticallyficticious:livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.

Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.

They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.

“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.

“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”

If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.

Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.

~

The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.

This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.

Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 

The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.

~

The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.

They were worried they would have to be kind.

They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.

Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.

Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.

(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

THIS WAS SO STINKIN CUTE EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ THIS

heavenhillgirl:

La caduta degli dei (1969)

heavenhillgirl:

La caduta degli dei (1969)

The Skull Cupcake and Why It’s One Of The Most Important Cultural Phenomenons In The World Today (TW:Discussion of rape, and similar)

thepeacockangel:

Monster High Dolls are the top selling fashion dolls in the world, out pacing even Barbie, Lady Gaga’s fans are “Little Monsters” and Gaga herself is “mother monster,” as I write this I am wearing a dress bedecked with purple unicorns and skulls with hearts for eyes with head bows and cupcakes with skulls in their sugary pink icing.  Everywhere the spooky/girly/sometimes sort of sexy is.  Lipstick and bones, and corsets and zombies, and the ever present cupcake motif.  Jezebel says cupcakes are a symbol of femininity, but they are also a symbol of childhood, and personally it seems to me the dual obsessions with the sugary sweet and the macabre play heavily into women’s anxieties in the current era.

For one, girls are thrust out of childhood the second their bodies mature enough for men to start yelling lewd things at them as they walk down the street, and so there’s the sexy scary Alice in sexy scary wonderland, a world where the sugary pinkness of femininity still pervades, but the barbie dream castle is no longer the safe haven it once was, and one is caught in a muddle of experimenting with adult femininity, having adult femininity thrust upon one and still being very much a child.

As well, economic problems have prevented huge swaths of people from attaining economic independence from their parents, they are caught in some ways in childhood, adults who cannot leave home and start “grownup” careers.  The skull cupcake is also the fear of dying without growing up, living to old age in the room filed with unicorns, still sleeping on a pink canopy bed.

However, there is another facet to it, it is also a defense, femininity and monstrousness have long been linked, and from the culture of advertising (erase that, deodorize this, remove wrinkles, hide tummy bulge, shave off all trace of body hair, conceal those dark circles, whatever your hair does when left alone is wrong and needs a conditioning panacea) one gets the idea that perhaps the female body, left to its own devices is monstrous.  Then again when we “over do” the artifice, we’re also scary, electric blue eyeshadow, over the top eyeliner, too many ruffles and crinolines and the use of the surgeon’s knife to attain one’s choice of appearance are also deemed monstrous.  We are supposed to aspire to be the naturally pretty virgin mother twirling in a white dress in a field of flowers, the only aspect of womanhood that has no hint for society of the monster (though of course, motherhood with its stretched belly, nausea and insatiable hunger is monstrous too and magazines love to remind us of that), so to accept ones monstrousness to revel in it, I think is a sign of change perhaps.

It is also, I think a sort of talismanic defense, there has long been the sexy monster girl, Elvira, Vampira, and the femme fatale with fangs or claws or black magic, but these tropes (beloved as they are to me) belong originally to male fantasy, the girly cupcake-ified variation is different because her over the top girliness, her cutesiness combine with the macabre are supposed to keep the masculine in a certain way at bay.  As a general rule, men dislike ruffles, and cupcake-y, sugary cuteness, it’s intended often to be quite pretty, but the antithesis of sexy, which in combination with the skulls, the bloody axes, the monsters, is a sort of symbolic “Keep away” for unwanted male attention.  After all, monsters don’t get raped.

It may also be kind of an attempt to reconcile femininity with menstruation (Cutesy, bloody)

chubby-bubbi replied to your post “i’m asking for your help other fat babes: lingerie for fat afab…”

It’s so hard to find really sexy lingerie for bigger babes. I found better lingerie in Marks & Spencer’s, also Evans (Evans is a bit overpriced and not as sexy). Figleaves.com offer more “cute” lingerie. Hope this helps and happy shopping! xo

thank you! i will have a look :) 

reyairia:

Hello, my name is Strong Female Character, and my secret power is reaffirming the heterosexuality of the disproportionately male cast.

i’m asking for your help other fat babes:

lingerie for fat afab bodies pls! particularly anything in green silk that will actually fit breasts that need more than a laughable 36D cup

Anonymous asked:
no offense but you kind of need to realize that having a preference for something does NOT make you a bigot

bad-pan-defs:

when your preferences fall down power lines they cease to be preferences and become biases

shakethecobwebs:

if skinny people get this mad over one lyric in a song imagine how they would feel if they had to face the constant reminders that there is something fundamentally flawed and disgusting about your body and that it’s all your fault and that it would be better if you just didn’t exist (and this was evidenced, upheld and justified by popular culture, media, medical journals, clothing stores, family, friends, total strangers etc.)

y’all couldn’t do it. y’all wouldn’t last a day. 

cuntyspice:

Imagine if nicki had actual fat girls in her video tho