rosebloodcat:

bogleech:

kaible:

bogleech:

coolclaytony:

bogleech:

this 50′s hungarian comic strip I’d never heard of until now is so damn cute for something that also gets so horny

It helps that the writer was trying to create something he hoped would appeal to women as much as men.

Yeah and I think where it really succeeds vs. modern anime wifey fantasy shit is that Jucika really is just a character super comfortable with being sexual, likes looking sexy and even has no shame in using it to get her way:

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….But at the same time, she doesn’t tolerate being objectified against her wishes:

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….And the comic takes her side in both cases, whereas I’ve seen countless modern narratives in which this same character would have only been framed as like a Slutty ™ Bitch ™ or full blown villain.

One of the things I also really like about this comic, besides what’s already been stated, is that the humor isn’t always about her being sexy. Sometimes it’s just about other goofy things in her life!

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oh yes many of them are experienes just anybody can relate to

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but then there’s also the time she just….built a functional AI?

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she just didn’t predict how the robot rebellion would really manifest

I love how there isn’t a single dialogue bubble, yet you can fully understand what’s happening.

Always reblog Jucika.

(via whatmarvellousthings)

sadseacaptain-tm:

chonk-mama:

armchair-factotum:

scarlettaagni:

bogleech:

glitchhologram-deactivated20230:

plaguedoctormemes:

plaguedoctormemes:

Also i dont know if you guys have ever seen medieval beekeeper garb, but:

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Its the best!!!

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Nope!

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Woodcut from 1545! 😊 respect our basket faced cousins 😡

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The Beekeepers, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1568

Now that plague doctors are cultural icons I want these to be next and I hope we arbitrarily decide that the two are somehow rivals.

why would they be rivals, they’re dating and bop their masks together to kiss

The birds and the bees

!!!

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They’re dating  ❤️

(via shatar-aethelwynn)

thebibliosphere:

thebibliosphere:

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we’re old friends, and you’re not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I’ve been doing a lot of work recently that’s focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I’m not good enough. That I’m somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it’s a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it’s loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I’m several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my “recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms” worksheet mixed in with the “you’re not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels” worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren’t sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I’m someone I’m not.

Because I’m masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I’ve always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn’t fit in or was failing in some way I couldn’t see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they’d stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they’d realize I’m a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I’m your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn’t also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it’s that aftermath that’s affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do– but it doesn’t feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I’m dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I’m doing is so foreign my brain has decided it’s just another form of masking.

I’m pretending to be a good author so people will think I’m a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I’m Weird and not whatever palatable version I’ve presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn’t an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I’m going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

I brought this post up with my ADHD therapist today (who also has ADHD), and she got so still that I thought our Zoom call had frozen.

Turns out she just needed to stare into her soul for a bit and it looked like this:

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(via rudjedet)

judas-jpg:

fujiwaradivebar:

furrama:

fawkes-rinzler:

imlizy:

today im thinking about the huge buff bread guy from kikis delivery service. highly underrated guy

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Genuinely just a good man. Wife adopts teenage witch that needs a place to stay in the city? Sure. Even though you got a kid on the way? That’s fine. Cat too? Love cats. 

My favorite moment with him is when he goes to get some prepped baking sheets and he does this fancy twirl with them in front of Jiji. Like, there’s no other people in the room, he does this to impress a cat.

I don’t think he ever says more than a whole word the entire movie, and I still love him more than most Disney princes based on this one moment alone.

And the part where he wanted to surprise Kiki by making that beautiful elaborate sign OUT OF BREAD to advertise her business and he was all anxious for her to get home and see it

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But then when he sees her coming he gets all bashful and runs away 😭

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the most underrated thing about the ghibli movies is how deeply they are love stories to working people, to the small folk, to moments of love and kindness. its not just about magic, many movies are about magic and fairytales. Its not only about the people in the stories, but about stories in the people. And they are just loveable.

(via interstellar-lamb)

teaboot:

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that’s not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It’s novelty dick-shaped pasta. I’ve set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They’re melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they’re low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It’s sexy monopoly. It’s your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as ‘whisper into’ and 'butt’. I lost the original dice. We’re using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They’re three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I’m using so much. It’s so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can’t use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It’s cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They’re all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I’m there, reading an instructional book titled “The Housewife’s Guide To Every Day Stripping”. I’m wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men’s christmas T-shirt that says “Jingle My Bells” across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It’s very gritty. That’s because there’s little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It’s fine, though. You say you don’t mind.

I don’t do massages very often. It’s bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it’s okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than cramping.

You’re not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I’m actually pretty asexual, but it hasn’t come up yet so I’m relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You’re down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you’re settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It’s dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I’ve pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

(via thatlittleegyptologist)

fluentisonus:

A screenshot of a quote reading: "An intriguing song of changing times and social conflict. It also features breasts."ALT

obsessed with this quote it really captures what folk music is all about x

(via whatmarvellousthings)

prokopetz:

prokopetz:

It’s true that sometimes everything happens too much, but I think there’s value in acknowledging that sometimes everything happens a reasonable amount and you’re just being a dick about it. You’ve gotta recognise that you’re being petty in order to properly lean into it!

“Your feelings are always valid” no, sometimes the dumb monkey who lives in my brainstem is straight up being an asshole. It’s important that I know this – one cannot truly love one’s dumb monkey without accepting its nature.

(via rudjedet)

foxesandtea:

  A drawing dated May 4th, 2023, of a rat in a yellow circle. Large text reads, "sleepy creature", and further text reads, "small friend" and "could do with a nap."ALT

Drew this the day after and honestly only a vague idea what I actually did that day?? Did see a sleepy rat AND was a sleepy rat though.

(via whatmarvellousthings)

radiofreederry:

radiofreederry:

She’s got that National Weather Service pussy

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(via tandembicycles)

shesnake:

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Vulture showed Rachel Weisz that Reductress piece

(via whatmarvellousthings)