barbie-is-not-perfect

RPDR S9 E2

Im feeling some type of way about how they handled Jaymes Mansfield on the show.  It was a big trash pile on her in every single way. 

I genuinely feel like they took ANY good footage they got of her and just burned it because her entire stint was like… either being the target of pity, condescension, or just downright meanness.  They botched her first workroom entrance on purpose and I’m pretty positive they edited out all of the laughs she got except for that one last pity laugh after she was eliminated.

Its just so unfair because I did my scouting about her and I found out that she sews almost all of her own things with fabric she gets from wal-mart.  She styles her own hair.  She really is funny when shes not being beaten down by a caustic environment where everyone made sure she felt “out of place.” Most of all though, like, shes a realistic queen.  She really represented whats great about hometown drag, that not every queen is a fucking barbie with perfect expensive outfits and huge fanbases.  I really liked her..

No one could seem to appreciate her campiness either.  Not even Raven and Raja could come up with someone good to say on fashion photo ruview and I absolutely loved her promo outfit.  Idk, man.  As much as they love to have their heart to heart moments and claim that queens are caring and accepting and that they’re all part of a sisterhood… idk.. it seemed like every single thing that has to do with drag race was out to snuff her out.  Its almost like they let her on the show just so they COULD do that.

Unstable Ride

  Harry is at the opening of This Is Us, excited to be releasing his first movie with the boys. As expected, dozens of men and women with microphones and cameras are surrounding him, wanting to get at least two minutes with one of the world’s most famous super-stars. He walks around, taking pictures and answering questions, smiling, laughing, and just doing his best to keep the tabloids satisfied without divulging too much of his personal life. 

  At one point, he’s walking by a young women in a pin-skirt, a button up blouse, and a cameraman behind her. Harry’s line of vision completely skips over her as a result of all the flashing lights and hysteria, but something the woman says rings out clear in his ears, earning the desired reaction from the curly-haired heartthrob.

 He halts dead in his tracks, his back stiffening up. He feels goosebumps prickling his arms under his silk dresshirt; the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

 Harry turns, his eyes finding the source of the speaker—the young blonde lady. A small, triumphant smirk tilts the corners of her perfectly sculpted red lips up as she locks eyes with him, knowing that what she had just said was not meant to be known by anyone other than the young, successful celebrity himself.  

 She raises her eyebrows in a challenge, threatening to repeat the information.

Harry gives his head a jerky, almost unnoticeable shake, and quickly makes his way towards her and her cameraman. When he finally stops before her, his eyes hold bewildered panic and a good amount of anger, but he masks it by plastering another one of his wide, camera-trained smiles on his face, concealing his loathing for the unknown reporter. 

 ‘They always find out.’ Harry’s thoughts rage. ‘I can never do anything without getting caught by one of these fucking bastards.’

The woman runs a manicured hand through her Barbie-perfect styled hair, throwing a sign to the cameraman to get the Canon ready.

Vile rises from Harry’s stomach, his lunch threatening to make a reappearance.

 ‘They can’t shoot this. Management will have my head on a silver platter if this gets out.’

“Hello, Harry.” The anchorwoman speaks up, her voice so high it feels like someone is simultaneously digging pins into Harry’s brain. “So nice to meet you. I’m Sindy.”

He restrains from telling her to shut up and takes her offered hand, pressing his lips to her pale knuckles in the courtly, gentleman manner he was well-know for. The second his lips make contact with her skin, it flashes through his mind to bite her, his anger driving him to do so as revenge, but he refrains from his childish instinct, regaining his fake smile as he pulls away.

“My pleasure to meet you, Sindy.” He answers, biting back the rude sarcasm that is tempting him to snap.

Sindy nods, glancing at her cameraman to see if he is ready. Before Harry can protest, the camcorder is rolling, and the journalist begins talking.

“Hello, this is Sindy Fellman at the first premiere of One Direction’s new documentary film, This Is Us, in Liecester Square in London. We have the luck of having one of the main stars and members of the band, Mr. Harry Styles, here with us now.” The shot is turned to Harry, and he feels a cold sweat break out on his palms.

‘Bloody shit.’

“Hi.” Harry waves at the camera, giving it a polite nod, knowing that millions of people will be tuned in later behind the screen just to watch him on this recording, if all goes well. If not, he’ll have to do something to get rid of this interview—fast.

“So, Harry, recently we’ve seen a few…interesting pictures of you and your girlfriend, Y/N, inside your car after your mother’s wedding. Congratulations to her, by the way.” Sindy says kindly, but Harry has been doing interviews long enough to know that no matter how friendly her face and voice might sound towards him and the audience, it is all an act to hide the malicious intents she really has. He can practically see the money signs in her eyes at the information she possesses, her sweet smile masking one of taunting excitement.

“Thank you.” Harry grits out through his teeth, not letting down his cool, calm composer. “I’ll pass it on.”

She nods, directing the conversation immediately back to the real subject that will gain her thousands. 

“So, these pictures. You, since the start of your career, have been known as a very good-behaved young lad. As I said before, recently, some pictures of you and your girlfriend have surfaced on the web, and by the looks of it, it doesn’t seem you’re behaving as well as we thought.” In a few simple sentences she manages to pull the trigger, letting go of the bullet the will wound Harry’s squeaky-clean record he’d worked so hard to build up.

He already knows what the pictures they will certainly edit into the interview depict, but Sindy pulls out a short stack of Kodak images, showing exactly what he expected.

Apparently the windows on Harry’s Range Rover weren’t as tinted as he had been lead on, or either the camera the photos were taken with was very high-quality—probably both— because there he was, with Y/N straddling him, both of them half-naked and trapped in a very heated moment.

After his mother’s wedding, Harry’s hormones had decided they’d have some fun, and he had started to get hard around the time the celebratory lunch had begun. He had whispered to Y/N about his small—not necessarily— issue, and after getting a bit touchy-feely under the table, they had rushed to his car to finish off what they had begun. Thinking of it, Harry did not regret it one bit. That day had definitely ranked Top 10 in his Best Fucks list, and he had never come as hard as when Y/N had ridden him to euphoria in the backseat off his car, her chest half-exposed in her bra, her lips connected to his throat, purring very explicit promises on what she would do to him when they got home (which she had carried out) as he came undone. Nope. No regret what-so-ever.

What he did regret was not finding a parking space inside the reserved parking lot, but deciding to park in an abandoned mall square half a block down. He had thought it was a great idea at the moment because they would be able to leave in peace without having to worry about all of the heavy traffic around the area where the wedding had been held. He also had been thankful for it later because it had been 1.) abandoned, so he thought no one would be able to catch them, and 2.) it had a fair amount of trees covering the circumference so he was sure no one would spot them.

Now he could clearly see just how bad he’d fucked up.

Sindy clearing her throat brings him back from his train of thoughts, making him focus on the pictures of his head thrown back against the head-rest, his mouth agape with his face contorted in pleasure as Y/N marked a love bite into the pale skin of his neck, gripping hard onto his hair, mid-way down his length. She was digging her nails into the bare, unclothed skin of his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her in place as his hips bucked up into her.

“What do you have to say, Mr. Styles?” Sindy’s quiet voice is somewhat muffled by all of the fiasco around them, but it rings through the air as if they were in an empty room.

Harry doesn’t think. Instead, he blurts out the first coherent thought that forms in his mind:

“That fucking camera has some bloody high-ass quality zoom.”

The anchorwoman’s jaw drops open at Harry’s use of vulgar language and she puts a hand over her heart in fake surprise. He has to bite back the urge to smack the amused and jeering undertone in her voice.  

“Harry! You aren’t representing yourself very well right now!”

Harry looks up at the woman, letting all of his pent up sarcasm and irritation go.

“Oh no! Harry got caught fucking his girlfriend in public!” He snaps, taking his voice up a few octaves to mimic the young woman’s own annoying squeak. “What do we do?! What do we do?!”

Now the interviewer is genuinely shocked, her revelation showing clear in her insulted expression. Probably for the first time in her entire career, she’s rendered speechless.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and then down his face, rubbing his tired eyes.

When he looks back up at the women, his expression is now one of seriousness. 

“Alright. Fine. I’ll pay it off. How much do want?” Harry mutters, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. His eyes flick inbetween the reporter and crewman, waiting for them to answer.

“What?” Sindy finally sputters out, looking at Harry with wide, alarmed eyes.

‘Fake.’

“You fucking heard me. How much do you want? How much do I have to pay you for that—” Harry jabs a finger at the camera the man his holding “—to not go out. Give me a number.”

Sindy looks at her camerman, and he shrugs, letting the camera down from his shoulder and turning it off. Her icy gaze turns back towards Harry, all fake friendliness gone from her hungry eyes. She looks around to make sure no one overhears what is being discussed, and then purses her lips.

“Sixty-five thousand.” She replies, her voice rigid yet full of victory.

“In total?”

“No. Each.” The man speaks up for the first time.

Harry raises an eyebrow and unexpectedly bursts out laughing. “He speaks. I would’ve never known.”

The older man glares at Harry, who rolls his eyes and playfully sticks out his tongue, mocking him.

If I’m going to loose money to make them keep their mouths shut I might as well have a little fun.’ 

“Do you never talk? Do you always just stand there taking pictures of peoples’ personal shit and then blackmail them into giving you money to keep you’re mouth shut?” Harry growls, returning the man’s smoldering stare straight-on.

“Pretty much.” The cameraman grins maliciously, tapping the screen of his video camera.

“You should get a proper job, you dicks.” Harry grumbles, pulling out a pen. “Do you have paper?”

Sindy pulls out a fairly crumpled copy of the “Thank You” note that was handed out before the event had started. It was given to everybody who came out to see the movie premiere as a form of expressing the band’s gratitude, but in this situation, it’s a fresh stab of irony.

Harry takes it and quickly scribbles down the address of a restaurant he knows not far from the Square, handing it back to the bitch.

“Meet me here tomorrow at 2:00. I’ll have the money then.”

“Alright.” She takes the paper, her eyes skimming over the messy handwriting. “Okay. Give him the memory card, Dickens.”

Harry can’t contain his himself. “’Dickens?’ Who the fuck names their kid Dickens?”

Dickens grumbles at him, grudgingly pulling out the card from it’s slot and dropping it in Harry’s awaiting hand. Sindy hands him the physical pictures along with a flashdrive she pull out of a pocket in her rather tight skirt.

“These are all the copies of the pictures?” Harry asks, staring down at the three objects that could have potentially been the end of his career.

“Yes. We have no other copies. I brought them all because I know you’d be willing to assess the demands required to protect your career.” She gives him a bittersweet smile that makes him clench his jaw.

He narrows his eyes at her, trying his best to look as intimidating as possible.

“You’re positive?”

“I just said yes. Why would I lie to you, Mr.Styles.” She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a single eyebrow, tempting him.

Fine.” Harry growls, glancing around one more time to secure their privacy. “Tomorrow.”

Both of the journalist nod, and Sindy pokes fun at him one last time.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Harry. Say hello to Y/N for me.”

Harry takes a deep breath, collecting his rage and swallowing it. He puts on an award-winning smile, passing off to everyone around them that this encounter was just another regular interview.

 Nodding to both of his black-mailers, he wishes them a good time (against his will), bidding them a good-bye.

Harry wipes his hands down his trousers, getting rid of the nervous sweat that had broken out in the middle of all the pressure, and he confidently weaves through all of the celebrities on the red-carpet, clasping hands with known men and giving quick hugs and kisses to the recognizable women. When he spots his friends standing before the big theater poster for the movie, he makes his way over.

“That was one hell of a long interview.” Liam speaks up first when Harry is in hearing distance. “They usually don’t last more then three minutes.”

“Yeah. It was a toughy.” Harry agrees, nodding towards the other boys in a brotherly greeting.

 Cameras begin to flash and blind them, and Harry takes the spot next to Niall, swinging his arm around the shorter Irish lad’s shoulders.

As they pose and put out their media-trained smiles for the world, Niall whispers to him through his grin.

“Did they grill yeh’ on your relationship with Y/N?”

Harry chuckles bitterly, but only he knows the resentment behind the action. To everyone else, it plays off as if Niall had just told him a funny joke, and to Niall it seems that he’s just having a good-natured laugh about him and his girlfriend.

“You could definitely say that.” 

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By: Andrea

anonymous asked:

So I've recently realised I'm into girls (I'm 25) and I don't want this to come across weird but I'm so self conscious of how I look down there. I kind of feel like I should look like barbie or something and I'm worried every girl I'm with will. I'm talking about the labia (inner lips etc). Do most girls look like barbie or am I just being an idiot?

I don’t say this quickly but anon you’re being an idiot. You should definitely not look like a barbie down there nor do most girls look like that (it’s also no problem if you do look like that). Vagina’s don’t have a specific way they (should) look like but because of images we see we think it should look like a barbie or porn star “perfect”. But vagina’s come in all sizes including Labia of all sizes, lengths and colors, including asymmetrical labia, and labia minora that are larger than the labia majora. And trust me it’s completely normal. Also, don’t forget we’re all pretty gay over here and we love vagina so don’t stress out about the looks. We can’t resist it anyways.  

8

Math Love Triangles (2016) | Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend (1949)

What’s a girl to do when she’s stuck between men
It’s like she’s a Barbie with two perfect Kens
But wait, it just occurred to me
Maybe I can solve this with geometry
Yes, smarts can help this sitchywation untangle
So professors, teach me the math of love triangles

death-g-reaper  asked:

The thrift stores in my area really suck and are horribly overpriced but once I found a 1967 brunette straight leg barbie in near perfect condition for only $2.99 when normally at that store dolls run about $5 a piece whether they're worth it or not. The doll is worth closer to $80 and I love her

I think a lot of people wouldn’t think twice about things like that.  To most shoppers who would be back in the dolls, a Barbie is a Barbie.  Collectors can really luck out back there, though!

flickr

Party Perfect was not on my radar, but I love her! by Chris

Pocket Sized Jeonghan

Imagine a pocket sized Jeonghan dressing up for Halloween. He uses barbie doll clothing to make the perfect outfit. He’s kept in your candy bag and he eats all the sweets that gets dropped into it. You don’t mind, you’d rather let him enjoy his first Halloween, hoping he doesn’t get too sick.

Originally posted by gyuhan-17