Gallery

lilkeycharm:

lilibambina:

weirdlilwitch:

waltdisneyconfessions:

“I love how people don’t understand that just because a story was written a certain way doesn’t mean it has to be presented that way. Just because it’s an old European fairy tale doesn’t mean it has to be white—that’s like saying Shakespeare can only be played in white, Victorian England. You can interpret a story ANY way you want, including race and culture. Lion King was Hamlet for god’s sake. There is no excuse for the lack of cultural and racial diversity among Disney Princesses.”

Lol @ the fact that half of these princesses are white and half are not…..sooo your point is mute.

Actually the point isn’t mute, 7 out of 11 Disney Princesses TM are white.

and it’s highly likely the op CHOSE to include POC in their background, given that this is a post on race??

ALSO IT’S MOOT. 

MOOT.

Mute means no volume.

Moot means no certainty. 

Examples:

I wish I could mute your incorrect opinion about race representation in Disney princesses.

The fact that Disney has a fucked up approach to race is hardly a moot point.

Gallery

I don’t trust that easily.

But I’m getting better.

Gallery

No, but a ghost can eat my face.

So.

I think Lolita was incredible. But it made me almost lose my mind and it generally fucked me all up. I don’t say it wouldn’t be amazing book of so painful subject as it is. But sometimes it really overwhelmed me too much and it was really painful to read. Have you liked it even it’s so hard subject? I know what you said in your post but since English isn’t my mother language and I haven’t studied it much as I should have (because of my own reasons) it leave me a bit confused. :)

Standard

So far, I like it quite a lot. It’s a really well-written, really impressive book.

My issue is more with the fact that I watch a lot of people sexualize it and I’m like woah no no no this wasn’t a consensual relationship in the least. And it’s not a love story at all, it’s a lot more compelling than that, but it’s not even a whisper of a love story.

Hey You should do that five facts about yourself and make 10 other people do it too thing because I got hit with it and am a little shit 8D

Standard

Blah meanie. If any of you all want to post five facts about yourself, do it and let me know and I’ll have a look. 🙂

1. At one point in my life, I lived across the street from the site of a semi-famous murder. (So I’m no stranger to “haunted” houses.)
2. I’ve got three different scars on my face, but they’re not too obvious.
3. Sir and I have a Skype date in a little and I know it’s lame but I miss his face so there.
4. I’m reading Lolita right now and while the narrative strategy is impeccable, I’m not seeing what all you littles of tumblr are clinging to.
5. I need a nap.

Gallery

doctortease:

“It’s a lovely little thing,” he murmurs in your ear as you rest yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. “Warm to the touch, and yielding. Find it for me.”

Shyly at first, then with some enthusiasm, you reach down into the pretty sparkly band of fabric and brush your fingers over yourself: smooth where he shaved you, velvet-soft where you can feel the beginnings of just a little swell.

“Don’t be shy,” he grins, and then both his hands are there, pressing to rock you back against him and pull you up a little bit under his fingertips. He doesn’t go underneath the panties, not quite, but the pressure is perfectly clear. You inhale.

“There. Try it like that. Like Daddy showed you.” You follow his movement, hand on the outside and pressing against your mound, then deeper under to rub the seam against your clit. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, not exactly, but it’s different somehow—like you’re acting as his hands, even as his other pair roams up and down your tingling back.

“A good girl knows how to play with the toys her Daddy got her.” He’s settling into the rhythm of his words, calm and low, his voice rumbling a little through his chest against your back. “You wouldn’t want me to think it’s not being put to good use, would you? I might have to take it away…”

Spurred on, fumbling a little with excitement, you slide your hand underneath again and spread yourself, wet your fingertips. It’s a lot easier than it was a moment ago. His hands move down to rub your thighs, encouraging you to spread a little wider. You feel yourself contract, pulse, hunger, and the sudden heat in your belly makes you lean your other hand on his knee for support.

“There we go,” he says, and the pleased tone in his voice is as effective as a vibrator. You’re rubbing yourself in earnest now, humping his leg and your hand—no, his hand—as your wetness begins to seep downward into the sparkly, lacy, glittery pretties he got to decorate his toy.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” he whispers. “Beautiful little puzzle, little heat pump, the place I enter to bring you home.” You can’t quite stay quiet at that, all shyness gone now, rocking your throbbing clit like a clumsy teenager flooded with need. “You’re shiny and new every time I touch you, my present. And as long as we both want to play together, I’ll never need any new toys.”

Gallery

Bahaha oh my god.

This is even funnier because my mom insisted I should still live there and my mom is the ultimate white girl.