#girls. am i right

[frogathy]

one way to say you havent seen the barbie movie without saying you haven’t seen the barbie movie is hating on female characters that are just normal girls who don’t do very much. or writing off female characters as shallow because they don’t have outwardly exceptional traits (i.e. big massive boobs, incredible otherworldly power, super tiny boobs, she owns a business and also runs a country and also she’s really mean and cold because that’s hot and it goes against the gender stereotype, she’s an alien, she’s a furry, she’s secretly a spy, her personality is very clearly different and special OR she’s so mysterious that she REALLY has no personality but bc she’s so vaguely mysterious that doesnt matter bc the mystery makes her deep and alluring, etc)

girls can just be girls.. girls just.. wanna have…. fun..

let us embrace the concept of the ambiguous female character, i beg of you. just as there are twink boys and big buff himbos, let there be president barbies and “just mom” barbies. how about we just. stop placing expectations of either extreme onto anyone. let’s try that. thank you

[manzanamarim]

So I have been reading svsss here is my first contribution to this fandom

[clunkyrobogirl2000]

Being horny for mutuals is so fucking embarrassing because I’m grinding on a pillow like a bitch in heat for a girl across the planet whose saying the silliest things ever

[tragicblondie]

thinking about the ending of dragon age 2 as a mage hawke who sided with the mages at the end of the fifth blight, the warden defeats the archdemon and saves ferelden. they are paraded through denerim to the sounds of cheering crowds. if they don't survive, their memory lives on in a tale of great heroism and sacrifice for years to come. the inquisitor celebrates at skyhold with the rest of their companions after they beat corypheus, the threat finally ended, the inquisition a success.

but not hawke. you can fight with everything you have to support the mages, but there is no grand fanfare when it is over. the villain succumbs to corruption and dies unceremoniously - you don’t even get the satisfaction of striking the killing blow. you can’t get a round at the hanged man to celebrate. it’s time to go. you and your friends can never sit around your table at the hanged man again. you can’t be seen here when the templars come to clean up the mess. nothing will be the same. you have given seven years of your life trying to hold kirkwall together, accepted your accolades and played the part of champion, and you watch it fall apart anyway. and how much of that is your fault? this city has been stained in your blood since before you could remember, since before the blood was your own.

you lost your sister when you lost your first home. even so, you tried to live by the advice you gave fenris - when you stop running, you build a life. the estate that you clawed your family back into stands looming and empty. it is the last place you saw your mother alive, and you still can't bear to touch her things, and you will never even see her room again. bodahn and sandal are making preparations to leave for orlais, orana will find other work with the skills she's learned, and the house will remain, a hollow testament to your family's legacy. gamlen will hear only the stories. your brother fought by your side when it mattered, despite everything. even so, he will stay behind, and you might never see him again.

no, there is no time for a celebration. instead you get a cautious acknowledgement from the templars, a tense goodbye, and then you can never go home again. for the second time. you thought you could build a life, and you tried. you held on as long as you could, you made friends, you fell in love, you clung to the last vestiges of your family, but most of them will be forced to leave your side anyway. you won, but even that wasn't enough.

[mizandria]

people make fun of the "oh you only hate her because she's a WOMAN" crazy feminist mentality but yeah actually you guys do only hate her because she's a woman a lot of times. for every hated female tv character there's ten male tv characters who are a million times worse and still given at least the "intriguing morally grey character" treatment if not straight up praise. for every hated female celebrity in real life there's one hundred famous men who have done worse and don't get half the hate she does. for every hated female politician, for every hated female historical figure, for the women you know in real life and on and on.

[clownowo]

I felt like i needed to express this thing i noticed again in another form

[thebluelittlewitch2-thesequel]

May i offer Egyptian miku in these trying times

[quatraine-in-c-major]

*clears throat*

Trans women do not have it easier.

Trans women are not just a fetish.

Trans women can be asexual.

Trans women are not ‘begging for attention’.

Trans women are not ‘asking for it’.

Trans women are just as equal as trans men.

Trans women are just as equal as cis women.

Trans women are just as equal as literally anybody.

Trans women deserve respect.

Trans women deserve rights.

Trans women deserve to feel safe.

Trans women are women. If you cannot wrap your head around that; get off my fucking blog.

[windfalling]

1.02 // 1.06 // 1.08 The Stranger vs. Sol on recognizing and differentiating Osha and Mae

[classichorrorblog]

10 Vampire Movies To Consider For October/Halloween

[saragrosie]

I have been sketching. So much tma. Here's some expansions on my Jon and Martin designs I've been doing.

Another note I forgor to mention is I love how after hearing Simon go "it's enough to make your hair turn white" about Martin's office in s4 many of us collectively agreed his hair turned white because of his association with the Lonely. The shared consciousness is real and we use it to play hot potato with the communal brain cell dedicated to the sillies.

Closeup of apocalypse boyfriends (also to the person who said they love my s5 Jon's fancy white girl updo: I think about that every day)

[delicourse]

been watching dungeon meshi...🌱

[starryeyesmasc]

fuck it. thinking about a girl riding my strap when she figures out how desperate I am to cum just from fucking her.

her hips rock again and she stretches, slick and glistening, around the head of the strap. I whine as I watch her sink down fully, but I can’t move to touch her how I’d like. my hands are neatly tied to the headboard, courtesy of the girl on my lap right now. she laughs at the painfully turned on expression on my face.

“awww. what’s up, darling?” she coos, sighing as she works herself slowly up and down the length of silicone. “am I teasin’ you? is someone getting a little flustered down there?”

any answer I might’ve been able to give fizzles out when she props a hand on my chest to pick up her pace. I drop my head back against the duvet and groan as the orgasm I’d been rapidly nearing comes steaming back. we’ve been at this for at least an hour, and she’s already cum at least three times. all without letting me cum once. I’m struck wordless, desperate, by the sheer weight of my desire for her. so when she begins to lift again I shake my head and whine.

“no, please. please please please.”

she grins and shunts her hips back down fully, completely swallowing up the ruined strap. it’s the visual of her cum from two orgasms ago smearing into my boxers that makes me arch and jolt.

“fuck—oh fuck, I can’t—m’gonna—fuck—”

for one blessed moment, I think she’s going to finally let me cum. then she laughs again and I feel her teeth nip against my neck. “so fuckin’ eager to please, aren’t you? are you actually gonna cum just from this?”

something snaps above me. I don’t need to look up to know I broke the headboard; I felt the tension holding my hands loosen. but before I can move to touch her, a nimble hand pins my wrists above my head.

“ah-ah. no, darling. you look so good and pretty right now. I’m not done usin’ you yet. you just stay still and let me—oh, awww. are you crying? need to cum that badly, do you? fuck, babe. you’re so, so desperate to be good for me, aren’t you?”

I nod instantly; squirming against the euphoric precipice she had me balanced on.

“please,” I sob. “please, fuck, please.”

“well go on then.” she rolls her hips and the sound makes me moan. “be my good desperate slut. cum for me.”

there’s something missing, and she knows it too. she’s just waiting to drag the answer free and I’m too whiny to hold out. her smirk turns wicked and she gives my hands a little shove into the bed.

“but that’s right. you can’t, can you? you need to watch me fuck myself on you again, babe?”

even as she says it, her hips slide back into motion. up, down, languid, just how I like. I’m a horse in the gates, a pulse in the veins, raring to go. all I need is one last push. she pauses when she sinks to the bottom to roll her swollen clit under her fingertips and her head tilts back as her eyebrows furrow.

“mhmm. fuck, you fill me up so fucking much. I could sit right here for hours. c’mon, babe. I know I nearly have you. close those pretty eyes and give me what I want.” she starts into motion again, and this time it’s rough. chasing release. her hips slamming down into mine with slick, wet sounds. she lowers her mouth to my straining neck. “fucking give it to me. cum for me. cum for me.”

her words push me to breaking point, but it’s her low moan in my ear and the resulting wetness dripping into my boxers that sets me off like it always does. I finally hit that sunlit peak and I arch into the golden heat of it as everything in my body freezes in adoration of her. offering up my orgasm to the goddess above me. she can take it, I have no need for it. it’s all for her, every ounce of me. I come down from it slowly, twitching as I pant and whine underneath her. a hand slips over my cheek and her careful thumb strokes my cheekbone.

“there. hey, shhh. there we go. so good. oh, you just couldn’t hold on, could you? my poor girl. yeah, I got you. I’ve got you.”

I squirm again, trying to steal another orgasm while I’m still hazy from the first, but she tightens her grip and holds me steady.

“ah. where’re you goin’? that’s just one. I told you, I’m not done with you yet. I wanna see exactly how much I can make you cum without even touching you.”

[stuckinsquahamish]

I’m sorry Jon M Chu, what do you MEAN your first idea was to have Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth play Galinda’s parents. WHAT

[dykedvonte]

I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.

I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?

The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative 

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"