#standard of beauty

[majestq]

[sukinapan]

[mumblesplash]

comics as an art form make me insane. they’re so difficult to do well. there’s so many different ways to make sequential art work and most of them are deeply unintuitive. onomatopoeia that feels completely ridiculous to put down often reads seamlessly. panels on a page become a fractally nested image composition challenge that’s only possible to lose because if you do a good job no one will notice. you have to direct the readers’ eyes on a specific path across the page but also account for the fact that they won’t follow it. comic time isn’t linear. if the order of events isn’t crystal clear the story becomes incomprehensible. sometimes you need to do this on purpose. all this for a medium almost universally considered less effective than animation and less respectable than plain text. even its own name doesn’t take it seriously

[scramratz]

My hottest take (and I genuinely do believe this) is that most trans women pass perfectly well. They just don't pass as supermodels. Every "nonpassing" trans woman I've ever met looks like your average midwestern cis woman.

[wolf-tail]

Socialists, get into fat liberation theory right the fuck now. I am speaking as a fellow dirty commie, DO IT.

You all like to lump fatness into either the category of "product of bourgeoisie decadence" or "side effect of capitalism forcing us to eat bad food" when neither is the actual case.

Fat people exist in all social classes and all walks of life, often regardless of individual choices.

Fat people are victims of capitalist exploitation at the hands of the multi billion dollar diet and weight loss industry that pushes eating disorder behavior and unnecessary surgeries on to us all in the name of profits.

Fatphobia ties into beauty standards that capitalists use to manipulate people into hating their bodies so they can be sold beauty. Think about how many of the ads you get every day are for weight loss.

[stjohnstarling]

To truly, successfully eroticize the monstrous you must be brave enough to make the object in question actually ugly. At the heart of the fantasy is a person whose very form is so profoundly unacceptable that there is significant social stigma attendant upon finding them attractive - a person who feels deeply their own repulsiveness, who expects universal rejection for their appearance - and, crucially, another person who treats them as if they are beautiful.

For this to be effective, the monstrous character can't just be plain - they have to be wildly, fascinatingly unacceptable - prodigiously, fantastically, sublimely ugly. If you're anxious about the character not being hot you'll never pull it off because the entire fantasy is about not being afraid.

[littlemizzlinguistics]

Studying linguistics is actually so wonderful because when you explain youth slang to older professors, instead of complaining about how "your generation can't speak right/ you're butchering the language" they light up and go “really? That’s so wonderful! What an innovative construction! Isn't language wonderful?"

[sirenium]

Include men in your body positivity. you are not body positive if you make fun of male pattern baldness, neckbeards, fatness, etc in men. these traits are just as worthy of acceptance regardless of if it's wrapped in pink bows or not.

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeon Meshi - About Beauty

[afterthelambs]

This trio is aggressively y2k. Good thing they all died within the decade because I cant imagine them past the 2000s, they all have nokia fliphone face

[the-crooked-library]

i think i've mentioned it before in passing but it still fucks me up how Orlok is a physical manifestation of every "wrong and sinful" desire that Ellen tries to repress, as well as the panic that is associated with them.

the first sexual urges of her puberty (he claims her "ever-eternally"). the desire to dominate her husband (he dominates Thomas at the castle, demanding the subservience she never could). her queerness (he drinks from Anna, long and deep, and destroys Harding's family). the desperate longing for companionship, regardless of how dark and abnormal she believes herself to be (he answers her call from miles away, crosses an ocean for her, wants her, wants her, wants her - but she cannot imagine being wanted without repercussions, and so he brings the plague with him, a punishment for the sin of receiving what she craves).

Ellen is a mess of crushing guilt. she only ever sees ugliness in herself and i think it's so compelling to see her being desired above all else - not despite, but because of that ugliness, y'know?..

[majestq]

[casotamasagka-blog]

The Evolution of Beauty Standards

Throughout history, beauty standards have evolved in various cultures and societies. What is considered beautiful in one era may not be the same in another. From ancient times to modern society, beauty standards have been influenced by various factors, including religion, politics, media, and social norms. In this article, we will explore the evolution of beauty standards and how they have been…

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[localgoblinlad]

Shiera: Star of the Sea

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!