Feb. 27th, 2017

rakasha: (Default)
via http://ift.tt/2lVH2NB:
An au where newt’s the doctor and Percy is his companion!😃
rakasha: (Default)
via http://ift.tt/2mtWHS8:
hamelin-born:

An au where newt’s the doctor and Percy is his companion!😃

…I actually have done something where Newt is a Time Lord and Percy is his companion (and later revealed to, all unknowingly, be half Time Lord. It should be under my ‘doctor who’ or ‘time lords’ tag.
rakasha: (Default)
via http://ift.tt/2leFMBj:
prince-erin:

My partner, @xylophil needs enough funds to apply and make the trip to a school in the Netherlands! They live in a very abusive household and can only work through art because of their physical conditions. 

I’m flying over to the Netherlands in late September and that’ll be the first time we can meet until two years later when I will (hopefully) move over there!

Their commission page is HERE

Their patreon is HERE

Their art examples are HERE
rakasha: (Default)
via http://ift.tt/2lVT5dN:
cheshiretiffy:

dollsahoy:

nissinirvani:

hollowedskin:

densoro:

hollowedskin:

periegesisvoid:

mappysnappy:

quasi-normalcy:

kerryrenaissance:

silverbellsolicitor:

It kind of really confuses me when Barbie commercials have little girls dressing them up and brushing their hair
Like no
Barbie is not about fashion. Barbie is about collecting as many dolls as you can get your grubby 7 year old hands on and dominating the living room with your expansive empire of plastic women. Barbie is about creating intricate social structures and spicy inter-family conflicts between town house residents. Barbie is about formulating complex back stories for tortured Ken dolls with emotional scars. It’s about creating near-sadistic dramatic plot twists that split up marriages and cause that one Barbie you really dislike to be ceremoniously tossed down the stairs in order to be offed by the jealous ex-wife of Ken #4.

Yes, but how do you make it into a marketable commercial that won’t freak parents and caregivers out?

I’ve always had the impression that advertisers don’t really understand how girls play with their toys.

When I played with Barbies I had this thing called “The Dead Pit” which was a purple bratz laundry hamper. So whenever a Barbie got killed off she would go in there. And what I would do was I would carry her to the dead pit while singing the dead pit song. The dead pit song was just saying “The dead pit” over and over again in different tones. Anyway, once I finally reached the pit I would announce “(name) has died.” And drop her in. I would wait a few moments. Then, I would violently shake the hamper while shrieking, pretending to be the tortured souls of dead barbies of the underworld. I thought it was hilarious.

I feel like I should be horrified but I was actually way worse as a child

I wasn’t supposed to have barbies (my mother found them personally offensive) but someone got me two for my birthday one year, so then I ended up with a whole pile of them with various skintones and hair colours, with jobs and doing actiony things like horseriding to counter the possible influence 90s fashionista barbie and purfume barbie (both white and blonde) could have on me.
equestrian barbie was the unstoppable dictator because she had ball jointed limbs which made her superior to the other barbies who couldn’t bend their knees. both kens were her husbands and would form a human throne to carry her about because her horse was too important to be used as a form of transport. 

some of the barbies attempted to stage a coup to overthrow her in the name of social equality but they were betrayed and the ringleaders were placed into the kettle and publicly boiled alive while all the toy citizens of my bedroom were forced to watch in case they got ideas.

offbrand mermaid barbie was a spy who was supposed to be infiltrating the remaining resistance but was actually feeding them information about equestrian barbies weaknesses (her right arm joint was coming loose. soon she would be vulnerable)
eventually i was given a second horse which meant equestrian barbie could ride in a carriage, so i spent a week constructing a functioning carriage out of chopsticks and cardboard drink holders, which was given as a tithe to equestrian barbie.
there was a large parade in the living room for the carriages debut, however the resistance agent who had infiltrated the build team had rigged it with an explosive and so publicly assassinated equestrian barbie, ending her brutal reigeme.

the new government ruthlessly hunted down equestrian barbies loyalists and tortured them for information by tying them up by their feet under the hot tap until my mum found me doing that and my barbies were replaced with leggos and mechano, which i used to build houses and cars for lizards i caught in the back yard.

hollow what /every/ fuck

listen friend that is only what i did to my *barbies*
other notable entertainments include “finding owl pellets and reassembling the mice to make new friends”, “settling with duct taping a wooden spoon to my forhead to become a unicorn because my mother said no to knives” and “funerals for lizards, attended by all my plush toys in full mourning garb”

I no longer feel bad about my barbies being slaves to my My Little Ponies.

I just wanna add that some of my earliest Barbie memories included Evil Queen Dictator Mego Wonder Woman doll giving decrees from her balcony (which was actually a baby doll high chair, which was given to me by a relative who didn’t realize I never played with baby dolls) while the oppressed Barbies plotted revolution.  There were also high-speed chases wherein I pretended the dolls were inside Hot Wheels.

Eventually, the Barbie world shifted to telepaths on other planets and I made space ships for them from cardboard boxes and lots of tape.  The MLP were just one kind of alien.  Many of my favorite dolls ended up stained by the Mom’s-unwanted-makeup “wounds” they received in a huge fight…

(There were also, at some point, sequins used as pasties.)

I just stole all my brother’s ninja turtle weapons and had battles.

I never quite got into barbies, to be honest. We had a few, yes, and there were games, but - it never really clicked with me. We did get the ultra-special limited edition barbie for my Mom as a gag gifts once.

I had entire empires of plastic animals. 

I had boxes upon boxes of plastic animals of every size and manufacture and species. And each of them had their own name and backstory. There were literally dynasties; the first High King of Animal Land was a (relatively) small plastic horse named either Butterscotch or Lamefoot (I forget the exact details) so named because one of his hooves had broken off during a particularly rough battle when his mother, Lady IForgetHerName, and his Father, Something the Cruel, were fighting. King Butterscotch the Lame eventually passed his crown down to Greymist the Exceptionally Small Plastic Horse after a thrilling series of events where he and his court of Exceptionally Small Plastic Horses had been brainwashed, forced into exile, overcome their Great Enemy Whiptail Greenback (a rubber alligator) in a stunning revolution, and ruled well and justly over AnimalLand for a long time.

A few years down the road, after many adventures, King Greymist passed his crown to his adopted son Crystal, the white tiger, who had suffered horrible agonies at the hands of Whiptail Greenback, but lived to become a wise and just (although in constant pain from his missing ears and tail) King. He, unfortunately, did not possess the Magical Horse Trail of flight, but was magical in and of himself. (He was a White Tiger, after all). He was also the chief judge of the land, and, in a stunning turn of events, eventually passed the crown down to his adopted son, Greenback - who was secretly the repentant, good son of the Great Enemy, Whiptail Greenback. And King Crystal knew this when he passed the crown down; Greenback was touched and honestly frightened at the trust he was being shown, consumed by horrible doubts - could he do this? Would he be the kind of King AnimalLand needed? He went on a quest - all the way to the garden, where he met with his Grandfather, the Exceptionally Large Plastic Alligator We Don’t Bring Into The House, and poured out his woes, asking for aid and advice. He received them, and returned to AnimalLand, determined to be a good king.

At which point in time grade school really kicked into gear, and I didn’t have the time to plot out huge sagas anymore.

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