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@hikarisakurariver

Well hello there! my name is Hikarisakurariver, she/her. I love all things geek. you'll see alot of things on here (mostly reblogs) but I intend to post some content here too (once I and get my brain out of anxious and depressed mode and into anxious, depressed but functioning...maybe mode) The awesome art I have as my Header, is 'Thomas Sanders Anime' by yura-tsuki!
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kaijutegu

Not only is this Tokidoki, there are three more, plus a dog, a dove, and a cherub:

Frog girl is my favorite.

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rapidash

'the creator of Tokidoki is catholic and made mascots for the Catholic church' was not on my 2024 bingo

WHAT

I thought it was just a collab I didn't know that Mr. Tokidoki himself was...

ITALIAN? Tokidoki is ITALIAN?????

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Transcript:

Dad: Why are you recording us eating cake?

Mom: Because I have a question for you.

Mom: Why...did I overhear Riley telling Mason that I was foaming at the mouth when I was having Bailey?

Dad: What?

Mom: Tonight before bed (laughs) I had to stop Riley (laughs) because she was telling our four-year-old that "mom was foaming at the mouth when she-"

Dad: (laughing very hard)

Mom: She was-

Dad: (continues laughing very hard)

Mom (trying not to laugh): Riley...okay. our six-year-old was telling our four- (starts laughing)

Mom: That moms foam at the mouth when having babies. And I need to understand why they think I was foaming at the mouth

Dad: (laughing)

Dad: Rabies

Mom: You told them I had rabies?

Dad (while laughing): I thought she asked about rabies! She- (resumes laughing)

Mom: (unintelligible) sit down!

Mom: Get on with it. Dude.

Dad: She said "does it hurt when you have rabies?"

(Both laughing)

Dad: Did she say "babies?" (Laughs) I thought she asked about rabies!

(Both laughing)

Dad (while laughing): I told her, basically, that it really really hurts when you have rabies. And you start foaming at the mouth

(Both laughing)

Dad: She said "Babies?"

Mom: She said "when moms have babies...they foam at the mouth"

(Both laughing)

[End transcript]

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Once upon a time, in the heart of a dark and rainy night, a creature appeared at an abbey, climbing through a window to into the room where the abbess was writing notes. It was a wretched beast, not quite human but neither did it resemble any animal that the abbess could name. It was dripping wet, with scarred skin and odd patches of thin, sparse fur, long cracked claws that scraped the stone floor, and sharp teeth so haphazardly scattered that it was hard to say whether there were two rows of teeth or one.

"What do you want, creature?" the abbess asked it calmly.

"I want to become a nun", the creature said. And there was no rule in the books that the abbess could remember that would prohibit a strange beast from becoming a nun, if it so desired. So, the beast was accepted into the abbey, and it took to life in the order as naturally as a shepherd dog to herding. She was a meticulous beast, first to wake and rise at dawn, neat and tidy with all tools and tasks she was given, dutiful and devout in all things.

No nun nor novice dared to question the creature's right to be there after the first time the she demonstrated that her teeth are not merely for decoration, and then apologised to the novice who had tried. The beast even graciously offered to mend the habit she had torn. After the incident, she was never bothered again. A handful of other postulants, novices and even a few of the nuns flocked to her, knowing that the creature would not allow anybody to be mistreated in her presence.

Watching the creature wolfishly lope across the abbey courtyard, with her ill-fitting, haphazardly placed cowl flopping as she went, the abbess contemplated the strange being. Despite of her sloppy, haphazard appearance, the beast really did have great potential to become a nun. A being so gentle and friendly could have done well just about anywhere, as would anyone so devout, but what made the creature such a good fit for monastic life was her love of routine. Waking up each morning at the same time, performing the same tasks and duties at the same time, the beast was not only tireless in her work, but actively delighted in regular routines. Which was why the abbey was such a good place for her, and she would one day make an excellent nun.

She was, without a doubt, a creature of habit.

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maaarine

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

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I could write an essay on why I love Patton so much. I could write an essay on why I used to love Janus so much. If I tried to explain why I love Logan the most at most you’d get a bunch of not understandable babbling noises-

this is true for most blorbos

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