GLITTER AND GREASE


pansexual-atheist-time-lord:

pokemonmasterkimba:

absurdlydizzy:

tictocrabbit:

doctorelevens:

Kids Movie Parallels | The Lion King
   ↳ Simba trying to wake Mufasa

What kind of monster would make this gifset

Nearly 19 years, and I never realized this parallel…

This is not okay.
THIS IS NOT OKAY AT ALL

image

Well…Fuck you too…


Via Nothing scares me anymore

R. J. Spindle: On Being Unstoppable Writers Of Porn

rjspindle:

Whether or not you’ve been keeping up with our free preview of “Les Vamps,” tomorrow is a great day to stop by for a read. We’ll be rolling out chapter five, and I thought it might be nice to pause a moment from my other writerly duties to give you all a quick update on what it’s been like to…

Via R. J. Spindle

Les Vamps: 01 - Drancy Fest

les-vamps:

The long awaited first chapter of Les Vamps is posted on www.rjspindle.com!

With midterms starting tomorrow, Gwynn Tucker hunkered down in her dorm room in Central Campus at Salem State College to study. Her concentration was broken sporadically by screams from the window. October 31st is…

Via Les Vamps

The Eternal Flames: The Eternal Flames

the-eternal-flames:

1

Once upon a Christmas evening, lived an evil, dark and grinning,
Scouring bookish grimoires of long forgotten lore and strange magic,
Aware of all, like a canker, ruled with her absolute power,
Her eye was one without mercy, mercy she refused a wick.
“There must be a charm,” she uttered,…

Via The Eternal Flames


acrossthedarkside:

BOIL EM 

MASH EM

STICK EM IN A STEW

(Source: mcavoys)


Rash of Lesbianism

  • Joey: soooo
  • Joey: I think Tara Belle
  • Joey: is totally inspired by your recent rash of lesbianism
  • Rhiannon: lmfao
  • Rhiannon: Lesbianism as a rash....
  • Rhiannon: I'VE GOT AN ITCH THAT ONLY LESBIANS CAN SCRATCH
Via Les Vamps

Henri hopped out of the Flying Car as soon as it appeared on the racetrack. He made his way to the trunk and helped Wallace out of it. Tara and Bathilda stepped out of the car as well, with Mr. Holm right behind.

The crowd was gone, and the track was mostly clean of debris from the day’s race. On an empty podium sat the lonely Adam Gaiman, staring up at the sky.

“Adam?” Tara started toward him. The others followed. “I thought you’d be with Cumberbund and Anita.”

“Well, yes, but you know how he likes to wander off,” Adam sighed. “They just vanished in a ball of flames. I came back here following protocol thirteen.”

Tara smiled at Adam’s exasperated face. “He’ll be in contact. This isn’t Cumberbund’s first assignment.”

“I don’t know how he survived all those years without me, honestly,” mumbled Adam. “Running head first into danger without a plan and no way to get in touch, leaving me to sit around waiting for commands. This is some seriously high magic we’re dealing with. Do you think he’ll take that into consideration?”

“No, I don’t suppose he would,” said Tara. She broke into a wide grin. “Magic; ain’t it fun?”

“What are WE doing here?” Bathilda asked. “I thought we were going to the Grande Pavilion to start setting up for Gilda.”

“We were,” said Tara. “And ended up here. Want to come with us, Gaiman?”

“What about protocol thirteen?”

“Stuff protocol thirteen. You won’t do him any good sitting around here, so don’t even think about saying ‘no,’” Tara put and arm around his shoulder and guided him to the back of the car. “You can get in the trunk with Wallace.”

Gaiman rolled his eyes. “Always with the kidnapping…”

Tara giggled at the inside joke. The first day they met, he was kidnapped three times in the span of twenty-four hours, although those twenty-four hours took place all over completely different parts of the universe.

Once all were in the car again, Bathilda directed Vroomhilda to take them to the Grande Pavilion. The Flying Car did not respond.

“Vroomhilda, did you hear what Bathilda said?” Henri asked. “We’re kinda cramped and in a hurry, so if you don’t mind—”

“It is impossible to leave the racetrack at this time,” answered the car.

Henri flipped open what looked like the glove compartment on the dashboard in front of him. A console folded out and onto his lap. Henri typed furiously, and scrolling lines of information rolled across the windshield.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asked.

“I don’t believe it,” Henri turned to the women beside him. “It’s as if the whole universe vanished outside of the tracks…”



The colorless fire faded from around Gilda and Bandersnatch. He quickly scanned the black room around them. Wrench was lounging on the microfiber chaise lounge.

“Your guest was not invited to the ritual, Anita,” Wrench said.

“I didn’t bring him on purpose,” Gilda held up the wrist connecting her to Bandersnatch.

Bandersnatch didn’t speak. When he looked at Wrench, he saw an empty shell. He was like a puppet, only brought to life by the puppeteer controlling his strings.

Wrench took a better look at Bandersnatch. “I recognize your species now. I used the Leg to do a bit of research after meeting your friend.”

“Tadalunda Tendalendent is HARDLY a friend,” Bandersnatch sneered.

Wrench nodded. “Okay, so your colleague. Would that be a better term? It doesn’t matter. If you find his company so distasteful, let me set your mind at ease. You will never see the man again. Does knowing that make you happy? I used to love to make people happy. It only seems right to do it again right before the end. It’s my last chance, after all.”

“I’m not going to bother threatening you, Averic Stone—”

“Oh, so you ARE on Gilda Gorightly’s case,” Wrench grinned; the sight was ghastly. “Done your research I see. I’m glad to hear you know who I am. You probably know what I’m about to do then?”

“You won’t succeed,” Bandersnatch said in a bored tone of voice. “If I don’t stop you, another DIC will take my place.”

“Yes,” Wrench’s voice dripped disdain. “That is why I’ve decided not to kill you.”

Wrench rose from the chaise, and his bare feet padded on the granite floor of the room over to the armoire. He threw open the doors revealing an altar and mirror. The image of Wrench appeared in the glass, frantically banging on the glass and mouthing, “Help me!” but it was not the reflection of the Wrench in the room before Bandersnatch.

“You’ll be joining the others in the mirror.”



Vroomhilda popped into existence with Bathilda behind the steering wheel, above the diamond planet. Henri gazed out of the passenger side window, and Wallace craned his neck over Henri’s shoulder. They could see the lights emitting from the surface of the mostly dead planet. A faint blue glow surrounded the humongous faire grounds; it was a localized atmosphere held by an electron net. Vroomhilda glided effortlessly through the net, and descended.

The red gates to the city were closed, but not deserted. A girl in a long black and white gown stood leaning against the locked gate. Her long round ears were tucked into her short cropped, red hair.

Henri stepped out of the Flying Car. The girl took a step toward them.

“You’re late,” Tara Belle smirked at Henri.

Bathilda eyed the girl with suspicion, then looked to Henri herself.

Henri shrugged, “Wallace, is this one of yours?”

“I’m not one of anybody’s,” Tara said. “Not in that capacity at least. I’m Tara.”

“Tara,” Henri nodded. “How did you know we were going to be here?”

“Oh, a little bird whispered something in my ear,” Tara turned her head, exposing one of her long, round ears to them. “He said you’d be coming here, and you’d need help getting where you’re going.”

“Again with the mystery,” Henri sighed.

“What’s life without a little mystery?”

“Now is hardly the time to discuss life’s mysteries,” Bathilda spoke. “It hardly matters who you are. If you are here to help us, then by all means, do. Otherwise, I’ll have my man-servant, Mr. Holm, move you aside.”

“I’d much rather you try and move me yourself,” Tara said. “He’s not really my type.”

“What have you got to tell us?” Wallace asked. “Does this have to do with Mathilda’s plan? Are you working with her as well?”

“Not exactly,” Tara leaned her head the other way. “I’m more filling in a gap in her plan—which is quite brilliant, I might add. I had a peak in her file.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Bathilda measured out each word with patience remarkable for her character, but with eyes betraying her temper.

“You are supposed to go to the exhibition, and wait” said Tara. “A villain will lead you to their own demise.”

“More riddles,” Henri shook his head.

“Well, you can’t expect to be told these things outright,” Tara’s voice was firm, but not without humor. “Messing with timey-wimey thingy-dingies is a tricky-wicky business for the most seasoned DICs. Not that I could ever become a DIC.”

“Seasoned … dicks?” Henri cocked his head.

“Detectives. In. Charge.,” Tara chucked. “Time Detectives to be precise. Here’s what I need you all to do for me really quick. Stand in a line just in front of the car.”

Henri looked to Wallace and Bathilda. “Do we trust her?”

“We hardly trust each other,” Bathilda answered.

“What have we got to lose at this point?” Wallace asked.

“A lot, I’m afraid,” Tara said.

Mr. Holm wouldn’t take his eyes off Tara. Bathilda, Henri, and Wallace lined up beside him. v“There is something you all need to forget before you go into the Faire,” Tara plunged her hand into an invisible pocket in the side of her dress, yanked it out, and tossed the sparkling glitter in their four faces before any of them reacted. They instantly froze in place. Their eyes continued to blink, and their chests rose and fell with every regular and calm breath they took. “You need to forget that Anita Mann has possessed Gilda Gorightly. In your minds, Gilda is just as she always was.”

Tara stood in front of Bathilda. “Gilda is your grand-daughter, and you are here supporting her though this exciting venture.” She moved on to Wallace. “You are her Corporation sponsor, and you will do everything in your power to protect Gilda, legally and personally.” Lastly, she took a stance in front of Henri. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. When she neared the end of what she told him, a grin crossed his face. “Do you understand?” All four nodded. “That’s all I really had to say,” Tara waved her hand.

“You hardly said anything,” Henri scratched his hair, not understanding what just happened to him. “Can you get us into the Faire Grounds or can’t you?”

“You’re the one with the Flying Car,” Tara pointed out. “Can I get a lift?”

“There isn’t room,” Henri said.

“I’ll get back in the trunk,” Wallace said. In answer to Henri’s blank stare. “It wasn’t that uncomfortable, and I’m a sucker for pretty ladies.”

“You’re lucky my daughter isn’t around to hear you say that,” said Bathilda. “On reconsideration, no, I don’t think Mathilda would mind. It’s a shame you two were never married.”

“There will be time enough for that plan later.”



amandapalmer:

dear PETA,

this ad is really upsetting.

you’re implying that pubic hair that shows/grows “outside the pantyline” (which is normal/natural for the vast majority of us gals) is “unattractive”….this is the kind of shit Gillette and Nair would pull to hock product, and the sort of cultural beauty-standard malarkey that is contributing to a generally worrying trend…12 and 13 year old girls demanding full bikini waxes and all the shit that I think we can all basically agree is absurd.

fur, bad. yes. i’m with you.

but this ad is perpetuating really unhealthy attitudes. fear and unhappiness in the body-hair department is becoming more and more prevalent in young girls (and all women), because they feel they have no alternative. most feel like they’ll be judged if they don’t tow the party line, and an organization like PETA has more cred (you’re somewhat cool, right? you’re forward-thinking people fighting for a noble cause, right?) than a corporate hair-removal/razor company.

despite the strides of progress made by the generation of women who came before us, we’re slipping backwards. the beauty standard is presenting a more and more difficult struggle for young women. ads like this are part of the problem.

PETA, if you care about animals, and their health and overall happiness index, take your human animals into account alongside the rest of them.

compassion for all.

yours,
afp

Fur is sexy, as long as it’s your own. This ad is frightening.  C’mon PETA. I know you’re trying to be funny/shocking, but there is a line.  You just crossed it. I can’t knock you for that, but don’t girls got enough problems without thinking if they don’t save they’ll end up with a Wookie between there legs … on second thought, I know a few girls who’d love that.


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