u heard him ladies

blake kathryn
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
taylor price
𓃗
Today's Document
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

ellievsbear
untitled
KIROKAZE

tannertan36
will byers stan first human second
Claire Keane
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON

shark vs the universe
Fai_Ryy
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Brazil

seen from Türkiye

seen from Brunei

seen from Sweden

seen from United States

seen from Romania

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
@botanical-shitpost-machine
u heard him ladies

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
on setting up audience expectations, and either satisfying or defying them
i told myself i wouldn't write an essay about tadc, because i should have got my fill of trying to argue with people on bluesky whose critical analysis starts and ends with 'the creator said so'. but i unfortunately do feel very strongly about storycraft, so i'm going to write an essay anyway, focusing mainly on one scene from the finale and how it creates an expectation it does not satisfy, nor meaningfully subvert.
i'm going to be discussing how tone, visuals, and familiar tropes work together to create an emotional expectation, and what could have been done differently to support what is the supposed intended read. while the essay is going to be taking the stance that this scene failed in what it was trying to do, my intent is not to diminish readings that it succeeded. if anything i'm only using tadc and the scene as an example to talk about the greater concepts of narrative catharsis. i'm not here to convince anybody how to feel about the work itself, just make a point. it's educational. i like talking about writing and visuals. it's not a review and there's no moral stance being taken about what is good or bad.
okay?
and to be clear, i'm not going to be referencing or including anything the creator has said, because i've not read any of it, i'm not going to, and i don't need to. 'the creator said so' is a rhetorical dead end that stops discussion in favor of a solid single answer. i'm not interested in fandom discourse surrounding the creator. that's not what this is about. my reading is based entirely and exclusively on the text of the work itself and my interpretation of it.
okay?
okay.
and obviously this will contain spoilers for the final episode
talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.
I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.
I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?
This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.
At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.
EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.
Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.
When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.
prezzemolo
I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
boring take from real 21st century idiots: bdsm is bad because it's basically torture
interesting take from a fictional 14th century monk: torture is bad because it's basically sex
Shoutout to the nun who had other nuns tie her up and pour hot wax on her as she confessed her sins
I'm sure that's true, but something tells me googling "nun tied up by other nuns" "hot wax" "confessing sins" will likely get what you might call rather un-academic results
never going to be over that time I was trying to explain polyamory to my mum, and she said "I just don't understand how someone could be in love with two people at once" and I gave her my the-cognitive-dissonance-is-causing-me-physical-pain face and she said "what??" and I very quietly said "mother....you had an affair...."
“She wasn’t looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword” - Atticus
head slightly tilting left my beloved. hey did you know i have an obscure medieval au comic of my actual comic?
READ IT HERE
Periodical reminder castle comic exists in comicfury!
He’s so uninterested
Not a step dad, but the dad who steps away

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
This was an idea that sprang out of a moment where I was tired, and REALLY was regretting the decision to start coloring the comic strip. It was a whole lot easier, but the color really seems to be clicking with folks, so there's no going back. That SAID, I could still poke fun at the idea like this.
----
If you like my comics, and want MORE, consider joining the PATREON today for early strips, behind-the-scenes art, drawing videos, downloadable PDF comics, and MORE at patreon.com/bigpondcomics
Show your PRIDE... and help me keep the comics coming... today!
Manish Malhotra attends the 2026 Met Gala celebrating "Costume Art" at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 04, 2026 in New York City. (Photo by Theo Wargo/FilmMagic) pls help me get out of debt donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways or dinahlance-shop.fourthwall.com
the club moss I got for my terrarium is dying, despite being lovingly packed into organic soil with oven-fried leaf litter and bioactive springtails and isopods, and meanwhile in my fridge my fuck ass onions are sending out bright green shoots as happy as could be in their cold dark box of fucking nothing
I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU
As dandelions to sidewalks, so onions to refrigerators.
As dandelions
to sidewalks, so onions to
refrigerators.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
first ll prev ll next comicfury mirror
Welcome to the (unofficial) end of Plant part 2! Oo-oohh we're 2/3rds of the way there. Roughly. Really can't tell with the way I'm doing this story.
Sorry for the long post too, I always cringe inwardly a little when the page count exceeds 10... suffer with me, sorry, put me to tumblr jail. Anyway! Hope you've enjoyed the ride this far!!
The largest mass shooting in American history was a hate crime against gay people. Don’t ever forget that.
June 12, 2016. Putting a date on this for when it gets reblogged months from now by people who think the post is about something from 30, 40 years ago.
I am a survivor of the Pulse nightclub shooting, having grown up in Orlando and just turned 20 a month prior. If you didn’t know, there were several families who refused to claim the bodies of their relatives due to their sexuality. One family even had their relative’s name removed from the memorial. Murdered by the same hate with which their families reject them in both life and death.
Many, many people celebrated Pulse. We were told we deserved it. That it was God’s punishment for our sin of loving the same sex. We are sent messages like these I received in 2018:
We in the community often call the victim count 49+ to include the survivors who couldn’t live with the pain.
The event was never officially declared a hate crime or targeted homophobic attack and is rarely listed as one in databases.
At our vigils for those slaughtered, Extremist Christian groups showed up to protest, holding signs like this:
ID: Me kissing a woman I was casually seeing in front of an angry looking man with a “Sodomy is Sin” sign.
Please understand how much more than just a mass shooting this was. We are still to this day harassed and told we deserved it by some.
This year was the sixth anniversary. The first couple years I received dozens of messages checking in on me on 6/12. Year 5 got enough news coverage for people to think to reach out to me. This year it was my therapist, the woman I kissed in that photo, and a couple of other gun violence survivor friends. People are forgetting already.
With the 7 year anniversary <2 weeks away, I figured I’d reblog this
It’s been over a year since the bastard in Tallahassee ordered the fucking memorial crosswalk painted over.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
lmao i’m reading this essay from the 1580s that mentions how if you were wearing a big elizabethan ruff and you got caught in the rain it would flip up in the wind and hit you in the face, and then you’d have to spend the rest of the day with your stupid soggy ruff all flaccid on your shoulders. can you imagine. whole new potentials for pathetic unlocked
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.