#bratz buttons

[the-skin-inthe-bath-is-mine]

I finally have enough for

1. The Leviathan 20cm doll I've been looking at

2. Craft supplies to continue making my own plushies and up my embroidery quality

I wanna invest in a small iron + fusible backing to seal my work. Maybe a embroidery hoop holder so I'm not shrimped over chin to tits constantly.

[britneyshakespeare]

i don’t care how many people on the internet say it, low rise jeans are not back. they’re back for influencers and models doing 2000s nostalgia fashion and that’s it. for us normal people living in harmony, a-free of passing clothing trends if we wish to settle for the more comfortable, practical, and frankly more timeless side of dress, our belly buttons are safe and secure under our reasonably-high waists. your buttcrack thanks you.

[babybratzmaraj]

the day i get a request is the day i will scream and sequel😁

[nyc-looks]

Julez, 26

“The shoes are Converse Run Stars, I found them in Marshall’s a while back and fell in love. The socks from Amazon, skirt is from Revolve, and everything except my friend Sammy’s Prada glasses on top is secondhand! The button up, corset and purse are all thrift finds. Change is my inspiration. I’m constantly evolving and learning so my style changes with me day to day. I can’t be one singular expression of self – I have way too many stories to tell. (I also love Bratz & *doing the most* and I almost cry when I walk past a little girl and she’s in awe! 7 year old me would think I was so cool - so I definitely dress to impress her.)

May 18, 2024 ∙ Greenpoint

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing mid-16th century Venetian dress in doll scale

My parents moved from my childhood home, so I needed to finally take all my old toys I want to keep to store myself, including my dolls. For a long while I've been thinking it might by fun to sew tiny historical clothing for dolls. I love watching doll customization videos, they are so satisfying, and I just really love it, when there's a normal sized thing and then you make it tiny. Especially if it's still functional and made from correct materials. I can't explain it better than tiny versions of bigger things just make me vibrate on higher level. Now that I have my dolls in my home and a box full of fabric scraps, I have everything I need to just start sewing. So I did. And it was extremely fun. I have already started working on a 1890s doll outfit.

This will show my age (not that it doesn't read in my bio), but my dolls are all mainly My Scenes. I was Team My Scene in the early 2000s Bratz vs. My Scene wars. I did not like the proportions of Bratzes. All my My Scenes are Madison, she was my girl.

Here's all the items I made. I tried to use as much historical methods as was possible on doll scale and hand-sewed everything. I made a shift, hose, dress, necklace, earrings, partlet and shoes. I did almost make detachable sleeves, but I wasn't happy with them and I will need to remake them. It took me so long to finish one sleeve and I was very frustrated when I wasn't happy with the result, so I will need some time to make a second attempt.

Underlayer

I have finer white cotton than linen so I used the cotton for the shift and partlet, even though cotton wasn't really used widely at the time, definitely not in underwear, but it worked better in this scale. I didn't have thin enough wool for the hose, so I used fabric from my old thin stockings. Knitted stockings were not quite yet a thing so that's not very accurate, but that's the best I got. I choose red since red hose seemed to have been pretty common based on Venetian paintings, where the hose are shown. I used tiny beads I had lying around as buttons for the sleeves.

I'm not super happy with the neckline. I couldn't come up with a good way to finish gathered neckline on this scale without making it bulky. In future I will try something else.

Overgarments

Dress

The dress itself is made from the remaining scraps of the lovely Latvian linen I bought many years ago from Riga and have already made several garments from. The skirt is cartridge pleated, though the pleats at places behave a little weirdly due to the scale. I used semi heavy linen as lining and finished the panels separately as was typical in 16th century. I didn't use any boning equivalent, but I use cording to reinforce the laced opening. I of course sewed tiny lacing holes, which was very fun. The cord for the lacing I plaited from heavy thread.

Here's couple of examples from 1550s and 1560s Venice I used as basis for the dress.

Partlet

A Venetian renaissance woman of course needs her boob window partlet. Unfortunately I didn't have any super sheer linen or silk to make the fashionable sheer look.

Shoes

The shoes are chopines, which were very fashionable in Venice at the time. They were platform slippers with wooden base, which were covered with leather or fancy fabrics, like brocade or velvet. I didn't make the heels super tall since I was going for more toned down merchant/artisan class sort of vibe, and the very tall were used by upper class women and courtesans. I carved the heels from soft wood and covered them with sateen.

For reference here's couple of 16th century Venetian chopines.

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

Chapter 2: Bring Me To Life

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left. 

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama. 

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy. 

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did. 

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza. 

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out. 

Odd. 

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles. 

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said. 

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that. 

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer. 

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last. 

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear. 

Great. Shoeless and commando it is. 

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela. 

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright. 

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed. 

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit. 

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before. 

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in. 

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well. 

Where the fuck am I? 

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting. 

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center. 

A sigil. 

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something. 

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile. 

Fuck. 

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers. 

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose. 

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt. 

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight. 

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer. 

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed. 

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to? 

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun. 

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates. 

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire. 

But what kind of fire melts stone? 

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.  

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded. 

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!” 

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents. 

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back. 

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape. 

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky. 

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one? 

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself. 

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces. 

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her. 

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A. 

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster. 

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move. 

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

Stop. Go. Now. 

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.  

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest. 

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.  

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him. 

Prince? 

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her.​​..

Holy fucking shit! 

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her.  How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real? 

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No. 

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else. 

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers. 

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army. 

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him. 

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only. 

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her. 

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty  apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything. 

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here. 

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince. 

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless. 

What would he do to her? 

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is. 

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.  

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if you'd like to be tagged in only this series comment here!

[radfemverity]

So I made this meme but then gave it some more thought. I don't in any way want to understate the severity in social pressure that exists for women and girls to conform to hyperfeminine beauty standards, or sexualise themselves. I don't want to be someone who pretends it's so easy to drop beauty standards. For some women, for example those in poverty, with jobs where they face punishment for noncompliance (I've heard instances of waitresses being told off by their senior managers for not wearing. makeup and heels), and they don't want to risk being unable to pay the bills at the end of the month, it is not simple, at least not in their present situation.

However, this isn't about them. This is about the self-admittedly miserable women white collar office staff, minimum wage fast food staff, housewives, etc, who have created an entire genre of TikToks and Instagram reels where they make comedy out of their own misery by conforming to beauty standards.

The beautician who gloats that she cannot keep up with the beauty standards of her own job, and the industry she upholds, such as being hairless utterly everywhere, all day everyday, even though pubic hair grows back and becomes visible within 24 hours of shaving yet remains too short to remove.

The college student who laughs about how waking up at 6AM to put on a full face of makeup, in the baddie Instaglam style that she would pass as a Kardashian in, but it's worth the sleep deprivation because god forbid a 19 year old woman leave the house bare faced.

The family vlogger and housewife who complains that shaving her body from head to toe while standing up in the shower for 45 minutes makes her dizzy and faint, yet she does it three times a week.

The 30 year old social media influencer who thinks she's getting old, and makes jokes out of how painful her quarterly botox is and how it causes her migraines, but copes with ‘well beauty hurts. Nothing in life is worth doing if it's easy! No pain, no gain!’

There is only so far you can go with this, and only so much you can participate in the mass-grooming campaign to coach other women and girls into this extreme beauty culture, before you're no longer just a victim but also a perpetrator.

There are 14 year old girls who now want breast implants, liposuction, buccal fat removal, jawline reconstruction and hip injections. There are 11 year olds who use Al to beautify their faces on TikTok so they look like a Bratz Doll with Kylie Jenner's fish lips. There are 20-35 year old women who worry they're ‘past it’ because the women they follow on Instagram are promoting botox to them, when they're only 20-35 themselves.

There are women of colour so insecure about their natural nose shapes that they're convinced by rhinoplasty specialists with TikToks and Instagrams to spend thousands on ridding themselves of the curved, wider noses that were passed down to them by their ancestors, and replace it with the same tiny button nose that every other rhinoplasty customer gets.

That NPC meme is about the women who have become keen participants in the patriarchal norms of making other younger women feel like they cannot leave the house in their natural state, echoing the unspoken sentiment that older women are worthless, and - worst of all - they're making out like misogynistic beauty standards are this unavoidable chore that all those born female must go through - that it is an inevitable part of womanhood that we should all get together, bond over, and laugh about… without proposing any actual viable solutions.

And if any women proposes viable solutions, such as decentering the male gaze, collectivising, or valuing our intellect over our looks, we get chastised with the common vacuous choice liberalism of ‘wow you're being so judgmental/mean/intolerant', 'you're invalidating my choice', ‘but why does the way I live my life affect you?' and 'what happened to women supporting women?'

And then five minutes later... ‘God it’s so hard being a woman. To have to shave daily and alter our bodies to appease society.‘

Well no, actually, no that is not some sort of inevitable part of womanhood.

And the women further normalising, making comedy out of, and stigmatising noncompliance to what they themselves literally acknowledge is a miserable existence, need to be held to account. Womanhood is not a social club where we all trauma bond over the ‘inevitability’ of moulding ourselves into beauty dolls.

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

Jesus fucking Christ I fucking hate "The Doll Community" especially Monster High and g3 monster high, I really do...

I was just watching a video of this big name doll youtuber reporting on doll news, as they do, and they were covering the new Beetlejuice Skullector Two Pack, but what got me is they how said some pretty Anti leaning shit that was just unnecessary?

Like they literally said: "Obviously NO ONE ships Beetlejuice and Lydia so NO ONE would promote this as a romantic thing.. But if it's a wedding set that's set to release Valentines day then la de dah blah blah!"

And like? I honestly didn't know if this person was just saying this to just like, cover their own ass so THEY didn't get harassed by other tenderqueers because they were young, or if *they* genuinely believed what they were saying? Because from what I've watched from their channel, they're young and don't seem to know or care a lot about horror as genre in general? Like I don't mean to gate keep, but they're one one those obnoxious Monster High fans I made of fun of in my one post where it's like, "knows nothing about horror, just learned who Elvira is, only got into mh as a kid as the 'alternative' to their conservative ass parents who already believe pokemon is The Devil letting them experience Actual Horror and just never stopped consuming the dolls and Skullectors regardless if they're even familiar with the source material" kinda people? And yeah, that gets really annoying?

But I obviously didn't want this to be my cutting off point for watching their channel because ... Doll news?

So, I just wrote up the most, civil. neutral comment I could possibly articulate explaining how the Beetlejuice fandom's been practically built off of nothing but shipping for 36 years and how people can think whatever they want but Winona Ryder does ship it and it was quite frankly unprofessional of them to alienate Beetlebabes who might want to grab the two pack by implying there's a right way and a wrong way of interpreting the movie and the relationship between these iconic characters and they should respect the older fanbase and all the history that came before the musical?

And I was about to post it, but then I got nervous when I remembered, that I once purchased a doll from this person, which meant that they had my address at one point, which meant if they didn't like what I was saying, they could like, maybe dig it up and dox me? Or at least threaten to and I'd have cause to panic over it being like, legit or not? And I tried to brush it from my mind like nuh nuh they're cool they're cool... They're not on *that* level of Anti...

So then I just tried to check and refresh the comments to see any more overt ship bashing was taking place and of course, I just immediately find this:

So then I do this little blackout thingy for the usernames so that none of this can get back to youtube, and I go to screencap my comment so I can at least post it here in a vent, but I lost my comment trying to get the screen cap thingy to work and accidently clicking the youtube refresh button... 😔

... I just...I hate having such a lil' ghost face moment right now, but just like... I hate you legit fake horror fan Monster High collectors who can't appreciate horror having romantic subtext when that's the entire point yet you keep hoarding all the dolls anyway, I hate you little faggity boys with broccoli haircuts and split dyes who pressure girls into sending you nudes and the retired Mommy Vloggers who enable you, I find you extremely annoying XCanadensis, I hate you for your extremely annoying editing and intros zombiexcorn, I like you Lookin' Bratz but I hate your bratzline podcast cohost for fully admitting to doing a binge watch of all the Harry Potter movies in the franchise for "the first time ever" in fuckin' 2024 with absolutely no disclaimers or acknowledgment of the elephant in the room there and thinking that was a good idea to disclose something as quite frankly as disgusting as that and ruining what could've been a nice gothic doll chat for me and putting sour taste in my mouth about listening to the rest of your podcast...

And I especially hate that one dude with the ugly live action beauty and the beast dolls with the pink hair and the bowl cut and the glasses who for some reason keeps insisting every time she's brought up that Ghoulia Yelps can't be disabled/autistic because she's supposed to have some type of racial coding...

They're HEADCANONS!

They're PIECES OF PLASTIC!

GROW UP! 💀

(I love you weirdo OOAK Doll Artists, you're the only Real Ones left! ❤🫶)

[widowsofchaos]

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

synopsis: a trip back to the states, and old wounds are still healing.

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!poc!reader

ao3 // mom au

a/n: minor angst, and just fluff. mom wanda and mom reader. a longish drabble I wrote a while back. <3 Lumi means “light of life” in Romanian. Have some ideas for lore for this, like on who is Lumi’s biological father, or the grief and recovery Wanda is experiencing with Vision’s and the boys’ death. Perhaps, the reincarnation of the twins. Already envisioning a part for white vision and Wanda. who knows. I’m just getting my feet wet again in writing. if anyone is interested, just pop in my inbox for requests or ideas! enjoy! <3

“It’s okay, I’ll go to Target.”

A beat of silence.

Her face is so hopeful, but you can feel it; Wanda’s a little unsure. Confined to the mountains of Slovakia, to go back to the Avenger’s compound, Wanda hasn’t been sociable outside of her own self-exile.

The old, familiar woman is returning, the one you met back many years ago. Not so grungy, but refined, and healed. Her roots finally grew out, natural dark chestnut making itself home once more upon her crown.

Your fingers weave in her waves, as hers play with the hem of your blouse, Wanda’s knuckles grazing against the skin of your swelled breast.

Bare with no bra, easier access for breastfeeding, and some fun fondling.

You walk quietly to Wanda, cupping the jut of her elbows, stroking her skin. Gently nodding, whispering ‘If only you’re okay.’ Wanda’s slender fingers encase your hips, a little wider now, more thicker in the thighs since birth.

This touch—- it’s healing as motherly, as a lover.

Wanda’s fingertips trace over healed eczema scars, and thin cuts. Kissing Wanda’s button nose, making it scrunch cutely.

Warm sunshine envelops the home, crisp upstate air bellows against the kitchen’s curtains.

Three years of isolation, and dealing with the shadows of her past, Wanda can finally say she’s happy. Sometimes, the past lingers nearby, it can never be buried, but it can be held with acceptance.

“Get back home, quick.”

-

Visiting the states feels a little eerie.

A sensation of bitterness and melancholy weighs on Wanda, as if she feels being ogled by the public. Many eyes peeled back, watching her every move. The last time Wanda was even here in America —— it didn’t end well.

This little trip back to the States was your idea, to see old friends, and get them acquainted with your new life. You wanted to show the first family you’ve had to see the new one you made.

Some days Wanda thinks she should’ve said no to this trip, but it’s too late now.

The drive to the store was easy, although there was a queasy itch in her throat. She wanted to evaporate into thin air to escape, but for once, Wanda wanted to feel normal in her own skin. At home, using her powers is a natural occurrence, but to do so outside?

She’s not ready.

Three years of healing —- but she’s just not quite there yet.

Wanda hooks the sweater hoodie over her head, discreetly blending in the public. Walking through the maze of the parking lot, with bags in tow. Wanda’s eyes gaze down at the plastic boxed toy peeking from the grocery bag.

A Bratz doll she found in the toy section. One with shiny crinkled waves in its hair, bell bottom jeans, long-sleeved shirt with flowers on it.

It reminded Wanda of you in a way, always dressed so colorful. She just thought it would be a nice addition to the ever growing mountain of dolls in Lumi’s playroom.

Deep in her mind, heading to the car on auto-pilot, but there’s a peculiar sense in the back of Wanda’s mind. Before she can turn around, a sneer calls out to her.

“What are you smiling about?”

Wanda turns, her smile faltering into a confused frown, “I’m sorry, what?” Turning around over her shoulder, she sees two strangers near her car.

“We saw you in the toy section,” a white aging woman stands stiffly, face burning hot red at the cheeks, a vein straining at her neck. Middle-aged woman with a few strands of gray in her hair, a little pudgy on her body.

“Going off to torment another child?”

The man that stands beside her is a familiar face, with a mustache and short brown hair. Realization dawns on her, Wanda knows him, he was one of the many faces back at Westview.

Guilt weighs heavy on her heart, leaning on her feet side by side, her tongue clashing against the cage of her teeth, trying to find the words to ease the anxious tension.

Before Wanda can apologize, the woman cuts her off. “Witch! Have you ever been arrested for what you have done?” Stomping her foot against the concrete floor, becoming unhinged at the very second.

“Hun, c’mon, let’s just go.” The man cowers behind her, trying to keep a lengthy distance between himself and Wanda. But the spiteful woman refuses to back down.

“My husband may be afraid of you, but I’m not.” She was about to come closer but her husband pulled her back. Both of them tussle with each other, as Wanda slowly steps away, and more closer to her car.

“She works with the Avengers, she’s never going to get arrested.”

“Horseshit! The kids back home are still terrified! I’m still terrified! I can still see her nightmares!”

The wife turns back to Wanda, finally escaping out of her husband’s grip, marching towards Wanda. Pointing viciously, charging with no thought in her mind, except to attack.

“I will call the authorities, you will pay for—”

Out of instinct, Wanda’s fingers react, cautiously defending her space—- crimson mist pooling from her palms. Both gasp in terror, leaning onto each other, nearly crumbling at the sight of raw power.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” the man tugs on his wife’s forearm, pulling her to his side, trying to get her away, “She’s going to kill us.” He speaks in a hasty hush.

Wanda’s face drops, her mouth agape into a frown, muttering no no no. Her powers dissipate back into her palms, shaking her head frantically.

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

“You already have!” The wife shrills, crudely pointing at Wanda, shaking and sobbing into her husband’s arms, finally leading her away, disappearing into the lot.

Wanda flinches, her nose scrunches up, trying to swallow her tears. With an awkward defeat to her step, Wanda mutely opens the door to the backseat, putting the bags down.

Just wanting to go back to the compound, and crawl into a hole.

-

The drive back home is becoming harder.

Sniffling, as hot tears escape and trail down her cheeks, pooling at her chin. Her fingers clinging onto the steering wheel, the threaded leather digging into her skin.

She couldn’t even properly swipe her key-card to enter the compound property, shakily fingers nearly punched the alarm system.

Murky thoughts intrude her mind, plaguing her logic, as if punishing herself for all she has done.

‘Why? Why should you be happy? Whenever someone else suffers because of you?’

Her breaths begin to become choppy, and short. Panic creeping slowly, her throat tightening. The cabin is closer now, just down the road.

‘My grief is no excuse.’

Wanda’s hands hastily rotate the wheel, pulling the car along a curve, into a quick park. With a harsh tug of the keys, snuffing the ignition—- the car quiets.

Her forehead meets the steering wheel, her fingers gripping the yolk till her knuckles turn hot white. Sniffling.

Wanda felt that she shouldn’t ever have the opportunity to be a mother all over again, after what happened at WestView, a surge of grief that ended up tormenting innocent children.

Her knees buckled, collapsing on the grass, still clutching the toy against her chest; dry-heaving sobs. Her bottom lip quivering, frustrated tears beaming, trying to hold the swirling crimson tendrils within.

“Mama!”

A click in her mind, snapping back into reality, breathing in a deep breath to calm down.

A little figure waddles out the house, dashing with a confused whine. Small arms wrap around Wanda’s neck, clinging tightly.

Hugging her little body against her chest, Wanda breathes in her scent of baby powder, and milk formula.

“Mama, you okay?” Her voice is soft, such a little baby, yet she seeks to protect. Wanda weakly nods, “Mama’s okay.” Kissing the slope of Lumi’s neck, earning a snuffled giggle.

Standing on edge at the doorway, worry shrouds your face, but once you see Wanda settling to a calm state, your body relaxes. Anxiously your fingertips fiddle against each other, but a swell of ease overwhelms you.

Wanda smiles, eyes closing, her face softening to a glow, with damp lashes, rocking her child back and forth.

It’s worth it, she’s worth it.

[freaky-flawless]

It's still fucked up, but it is a little funny that MGA is keeping up the tradition of changing Dylan's appearance every time he shows up.

[Image Description: Three photos of Dylan from Bratz showcasing the variances in his appearance. The first photo is a close up of his appearance from "Talking Bratz" in which he has dark skin with dark brown hair styled in micro-braids, and light brown eyes, wearing a black sweater with a silver chain. The second shows his appearance in the video Game "Bratz: Flaunt Your Fashion" in which he has light skin, light brown eyes, and black hair styled with a middle part. he's wearing a white t-shirt under a green plaid short sleeved button up. The third photo is a close up from a Bratz Instagram post in which he is sitting next to Sasha. He has light skin, medium brown eyes, and his black hair is styled in short box braids. He's wearing a gray hoodie, and tan cargo shorts with black converse-like sneakers.]

[bratzsanctuary]

Hello all

Welcome to my own personal heaven & hell

Here I’ll mainly post shit I find on Pinterest sooo that’ll be fun

Ranges from cursed memes to cunty shit to positivity/hopecore, a lil somethin for everyone I think

I also drink and smoke so block if that makes you uncomfy bc I might be posting under the influence/talking abt substances here sometimes.

I have a writing sideblog - @silver-swan-writings

And I also have an nsfw sideblog - @bratz-angels

BIGOTS OF ANY KIND, AND PEOPLE HERE TO CAUSE DRAMA DO N O T INTERACT. Block button is rated E for everyone so if you’re in violation of

my dni or I just find you uncomfy you will go on the list.

My name is Koda (Libra Sun, Cancer Moon, Virgo rising), I’m 19, genderfluid, and engaged to the love of my life.

I’m in my healing era and learning to love life and I honestly love that for me. I’m part of a medically recognized system, but we all kinda go by Koda collectively sooo nobody probably will sign off or anything.

We love astrology, the fall, reading, mythology of all kinds, poetry, music, Pokemon, Sanrio, overall adorable/comforting things.

If you think you’ve seen us elsewhere, you probably have.

Take care 💛

[pinkacademic]

A Pink Take on the Capsule Wardrobe

Or: Pieces to consider when building a pink academia-inspired wardrobe Ok, the capsule wardrobe has been defined to death, and I think we all know what it is. I’m not here to reinvent the wheel, I’m just here to paint it pink!

T-shirts: having plain black/white t-shirts and vest tops as well as long-sleeved tops as either a nice basic or an underlayer are all staples, of course. But I want to make room for a few fun t-shirts that have disgustingly obnoxious Bratz-style graphics on them and say things like “Angel.” Mwah, marvellous, gorgeous, perfection.

Shirts and Blouses: you need a few plain button-up shirts- personally my most-worn are from the men’s section. But also, something fun like a pussycat bow or a puffed sleeve adds your own personality to the basic. Obviously, I’m on the hunt for a good pink shirt or too. Skirts and

Trousers/Pants: first of all, jeans are super personal, so you should just choose the cuts and colours that suit you and make you feel the most. But also, something office-appropriate, be it trousers or a pencil skirt, and be it a matching suit/set, is worth having. And you guys know I live for a plaid skirt moment- and plaid trousers are so fun, though I have yet to find my dream pair. We also tend to undervalue the formal short!

Formal Events: having something simple an elegant and a few “nice” pieces for a range of functions is nice and handy, but I think having one or two statment pieces that make you feel like Elle the night she thinks Warner is going to propose (you know, ideally without the heartbreak that came after).

Seasonal Dressing: You absolutely need clothing that suits your environment, and I’m making a point about it because I don’t see it emphasised enough. Pinkify your jumpers by picking a pink argyle sweater vest, or pinkify your sundresses with a hot-pink floral. Own both if that’s the norm for your country.

Shoes: basics usually include a good solid pair of trainers/sneakers/runners/gutties/whatever, doc martens, something office-ready and a sensible heel. I think Pink basics include something with a pearl detail, and/or a disgustingly ankle-breaking Bratz heel.

Coats: I am in full support of making a pink trenchcoat the go-to Pink Academia outerwear.

[astroismypassion]

Best movies for each zodiac sign?

Honestly, this is just my suggestion:

ARIES SUN

Lion (2016)

TAURUS SUN

The Hundred-foot journey (2014)

GEMINI SUN

Bratz: The Movie (2007)

CANCER SUN

Woodstock (1970)

LEO SUN

Wild Child (2008)

VIRGO SUN

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011)

LIBRA SUN

Submarine (2010)

SCOPRIO SUN

Before Sunrise (1995)

SAGITTARIUS SUN

A Single Man (2009)

CAPRICORN SUN

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

AQUARIUS SUN

Kill Your Darlings (2013)

PISCES SUN

Dead Poets Society (1989)

[inthetoyaisle]

Does anyone remember a fashion doll series from the early 2000s that had light up earrings and belly buttons?

I believe they were roughly the same proportions as a Skipper doll. Their faces closely resembled My Scene or Bratz dolls (big eyes, subtle nose, full lips.) And their arms were on a kind of swiveling articulation system.

I've been googling around and can't find anything. If you remember what they're called, please let me know.

[swampspit]

Okay just wanna list my lil childhood collection of barbs and bratz cause i was super spoiled with hand-me-downs and gifts from my parents and their friends or restaurant employees/ grown kids.

7/10

Only barbie i had with flat feet. That surfboard was paper. Birthday gift from the rents

7/10

Midge was a hand-me-down from an unknown source. She came to me without her surfboard and a bit of a haircut up to the shoulders. Only redhead doll i had. Surfer girls were girlfriends.

10/10

Christie, my beloved, had the softest hair, the best play setting (bath or big bowl of water) (sometimes the fishtank if dad was at work) and the best feature of her tail bending at the knees when you squeezed her hips imitating actual swimming. Only dark skinned barbie i had, unfortunately (sasha was always sold out and i did not pick out my barbies). I ripped those arm tassles off the second she came outta the box.

10/10

I loved her outfit, lost her jacket, hair soft, tan like me, loved the look so much i forgot about the ear piercing part of it and lost alll the bits except for the four earrings i picked out the day i opened it and i think my mom put them in.

5/10

I had three movie barbies from grandparents. This one being the worst of it all. The hair was supposed to grow as you used a magical brush, right, while theres a button on her back that reels it all back up like a tape measurer into this teeny hole at the base of her ponytail. You dont really -need- the brush cause if you lose it you can just pull it out, which was a lot quicker. Messier, too. The rattail would get knotted like a fishing line that could never be brushed out.

6/10

These bitches would sing together once you pressed a button on their back at the same time. It was annoying while playing and pressed on accident cause of course you couldnt stop the song and it was like 30 seconds long. The audio got scary after a few years. I was disappointed to see the 👑 birthmark missing on the shoulder, so i drew it and had to keep drawing it as it smudged away while playing. A teeny "w" basically .

[laughterfixs]

Hello, dear! Forgot if this might have been you or another creator, but I’ll take my shot. Could the rays of Sun accidentally cut you if he spins them? Or is it like a toy fan that you can put your hand through and won’t hurt?

(You know, those toy fans that have candy in them and when you press the button, sometimes the spinner lights up. You know, those. :3 )

Mine don’t! My Sunny’s rays are also made of a bendy rubber (for the kids that like to pull on hair and such)

A lot of the parts on his body is closer to like…dolls. If you remember how like barbie doll legs or the bratz legs felt. His rays are soft and rubbery as is his nose but you can’t like pull or stretch them out or anything X3

Both he and moon are meant to be durable but soft and gentle for the kids rough play!