Honestly the pipeline of “reading the-modern-typewriter snippets at midnight on the floor of my bathroom at age eleven so I wouldn’t get caught” to “being a tumblr writer myself” is a wild one.
the imagery of no health regen…… wounded skin that doesn’t heal…. torn clothes….. burns…. scorch marks….. bite marks….. blood everywhere…… unraveling bandages…… oh…….
The way in which Barbie’s world fell apart so fast and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The confusion, trying to figure out why everything was suddenly different. The illusion of choice, of trying to pretend that nothing had changed when in fact from that point on nothing would ever be the same. Barbie experiencing heartache when she realized that being real wasn’t everything she thought it was, that the world saw her so much differently than how she saw herself. Finding her way through it with the help of a woman who had done it before and was watching her daughter go through the same thing, knowing that she was losing her girlhood for a second time through her. And even after fixing everything she knew she could never go back to Barbieland, that no matter how much she wanted it she had outgrown it, that despite how scary it was to leave it all behind that there were good parts about it too. That the pain and love of living as a girl who became a woman coexisted inside of her. Barbie being a metaphor for girlhood and how suddenly it ends and one day you have to become a whole new person. But that little girl is always with you and realizing that your mother was a little girl too and so was her mom. And every woman that ever came before you. That we were girls together. GOD IM A MESS OVER THIS MOVIE GRETA YOU GENIUS
a favorite quote of mine that’s been on my mind in all of the conversations bad was having with the eggs today, and especially with richas in their heavy talks (& in how in his fighting desperation he inevitably embraces acceptance—“what’s your favorite time of day, tio?”) is this—
one last happy night with late night trio. it’s better to go into it, knowing that this will be the end—that’s an opportunity so few are afforded, so rare. knowing that despite all of the anticipatory grief, the sun will set beautifully that day they get to have one last good late night. the golden light of the stars shine. and they can all hold each other and say, “this was so good. oh my god, this was so good.”
911! It’s an emergency! Here’s what I need STAT: to get all dressed up with a handsome man who has a deep craving to tickle me, wine and dine somewhere with my feet secretly in his lap under the table, talking about everything and nothing… then to be whisked off to a cute cabin with a cozy fire, be pampered and spoiled, massaged and cuddled… Afterwards, once I’m feeling all relaxed and cared for, then I’ll be his own personal little tickle toy all night.
That’s when he whips out the silk cuffs and traps me in all night on a comfy bed so I can just laugh and laugh, scream, beg and moan, and laugh even more, all because of his fingers/feathers/tongue/lips/whatever tools he surprises me with. I need someone who can play me like a piano and find out what music i make 🎶 someone who GETS it. Someone who knows exactly what it’s doing to me, and it does the same thing to you as a tickler. Someone who has an innate desire to find all the ticklish spots on my body…then exploit every. single. one. Someone who wants to sweetly, gently, ever so cruelly tickle me until I’m a babbling mess who can’t even form thoughts anymore. Someone who can expertly make me feel like I’m on tickle cloud 9 ☁️
When I’m tied up and tickled and gently teased, everything else in the world just allll melts away (while I’m melting into a puddle ahem). I love when a guy has that dominant energy, with a soft teasing side that just makes me absolutely turn to mush. Cooing in my ear with a honey-dripping voice, the occasional threatening reminder of how I’m absolutely trapped there with nowhere to go. That slight sadistic streak that perfectly compliments my fluffy masochist side. I love the gift of exchanging cheeky smiles and sharing joyous, contagious, uncontrollable laughter 🥰
Actually curious as to what people’s general opinion of Ozbert is in this year of 2023. Does shipping them equate to getting hashtag cancelled? Are they still The OTP of the series?? Or are they strictly Platonic Besties For Life. I do not know
It’s weird tho bc obviously if you’ve read the manga you KNOW their situation is very Complicated™️. When they were both the same age it was fine but then Oz got yeeted into the Abyss and time jumped 10 years forward while he was in there for like 3 days and suddenly Gil’s like. 9 years older than him. But then Uncle Oscar still classifies Oz as being 25 even tho he’s physically 15. And then we find out that Oz’s body isn’t even HIS it belongs to Jack so that’s messed up. AND we find out Gil’s actually not just 24 he’s OVER 100 years old bc Baskerville shit. And THEN we find out Oz is actually the true B Rabbit so that makes it so he’s probably even older than Gil is. When we get to the end of the series they’re both canonically confirmed to be hundred(s) of years old so I’m sitting here like. Well,
ALSO looking at these manga panels and official artworks and stuff from the anime I’m like
Well, there’s definitely SOMETHING going on there, that’s for sure,
And if I say Cas and Gabe already have feeings for each other? And that Cas fell first (not that they know) and Gabe fell harder (kinda knows but it has them crying throwing up pulling out their hair sobbing)?
this is a change in topic BUT i know that i’m the statistical outlier in taking drivers ed three times and passing all three times but there are people on the road who do not follow Any road safety laws and nothing pisses me off more
This has never been a problem before, but then, the Doctor has never had a companion whose legs were so tiny.
One moment, Amelia is on his heels. The next, he looks back to see her at the end of the hallway. His screwdriver is in one hand, unlocking the door, but she won’t make it.
The Doctor careens back down the hall, screwdriver between his teeth as he scoops her up, and runs.
A bolt of energy clips his ear. He tucks Amelia’s head down.
“You need longer limbs,” he tells her, “or heelys.” Amelia, safe and sound, laughs.
hey gamers! if you don’t know me by name, just consider me the lesbian parvill artist. im here to say that you should vote for Bangarry against Hatsome so they can move on to face Parvill. my offer is that i’ll post the full image of this drawing if Bangarry ends up beating Parvill. i was planning to post it further on in the future… but with your vote for Bangarry, you could get it SOONER! god knows with how bad my attention span is, you could never get it! war isn’t easy, and i am a certified Hatsome and Parvill soldier, but sacrifices must be made to achieve world (bangarry) domination. so vote to move Bangarry onto the true battle against Parvill where your vote will be most valued…. and yeah, you’ll get girlfriends. i’ll also throw in a doodle or two of them as extra compensation.