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One Nice Bug Per Day

ellievsbear
Claire Keane

if i look back, i am lost
Stranger Things
Today's Document
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

@theartofmadeline
styofa doing anything

Product Placement
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

PR's Tumblrdome
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Love Begins

Discoholic 🪩

roma★
Xuebing Du

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
i don't do bad sauce passes
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

seen from Türkiye
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@literalzipfile
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saw someone including "Mandate of Heaven" as one of those christian terms tumblr likes to use to sound profound. which i get where you're coming from but t☝️hat one is chinese
holdon
what the fuck is going on in this site's backend
you should get a second evening for reading fan fiction. And you should get an extra day in the week to do arts and crafts.
I ❤️ making parasites for my poor unsuspecting islanders to eat
as the op of a post you should be able to mark a specific reblog as required reading before people are allowed to reply
I feel like every time we did standardized testing in school, we all said “I’m pretty sure I bombed that, that was tough. That was awful.” and I’m sure some of us meant it but I’m pretty sure a not insignificant percentage of the student population felt fine about their performance but didn’t want anyone else to feel bad and did not want to sound like a stuck up dickhead.
In all my years of schooling, I can’t think of one person who left end of grade exams or the SATs and was like “Wow, that was so fucking easy.”
I am fucking BEGGING transmascs (and everyone else) to not let the animosity of a VERY SMALL GROUP of very online transfems impact how you interact with transfems or think about transfems.
please, please, please remember that this "hating transmascs" and "kill all TMEs" bullshit is just a few edgy weirdos on the internet who enjoy saying inflammatory things for shock value.
transfems are not your enemy, and YES, you do actually need to unlearn transmisogyny. Not because you're transmasc, but because we live in a transmisogynistic society.
transfems are not a hivemind, there's no broader transfem consensus that transmascs are Evil Privileged Abusers, but the small group of people who think that way WANT you to believe that they are representative of trans women everywhere. they're super not. they really are just a handful of angsty people online looking for someone to pick on.
all trans people have more commonalities than differences. there aren't two distinct species of trans people from two different planets, there are just trans people with a wide diversity of experiences and walks of life. we are all affected by the same systems of oppression.
find community and mutual support with transfems. build solidarity and have conversations about how we can help each other. the only way we all get through this shit is together.
these miis are driving me nuts
I just need to confirm though, would you be for translives as well, and be loud about it?
obviously dietary requirements aren't a joke but my grandma sometimes runs errands for her church and i asked her what she's up to today and she said extremely seriously "ive got to track down the body of the gluten free christ, julia"
this totally scans for a swear intensifier btw. what in the gluten free christ is going on here, Julia
when i say “girl” randomly as an interjection i’m speaking to the omnipresent all knowing being of Girl. asking her for mercy. taking girl’s name in vain
There is a reality not so far from our own in which Ratitouille (2007) was filmed as an avant-garde conceptual horror akin to Eraserhead (1977)
There is a young American man in France. His mother has passed away. He has few friends, and works the thankless job of a bus boy in a prestigious restaurant, but dreams of becoming a chef despite having very little skill.
He returns one night to his humble apartment, which is known to have vermin, and comes across a rat, which he could easily kill or set loose on the street.
But the rat- it is special. It seems to speak to him. Promises him every little thing he desires- talent, fame, and fortune. Recognition and esteem like he has only ever seen from afar; fine company like the wealthy men and women whose scraps he picks at over the sink.
Put me on your head, the rat says. Put me on your head and think of nothing.
It is strange at first, yes. Strange to feel another take control of his life and live it better than he ever could. To see miraculous things created with his own two hands, to feel his feet move in graceful and fantastic ways with a confidence he has never had.
But the rat delivers as he had promised: he receives promotions, notoriety, admiration. He is noticed. Envied. Every day is a waking dream, rubbing elbows with beautiful women and handsome men and influential personalities who lavish him with praise. It is addictive, this lifestyle- never mind that he is only ever truly conscious of it as a passenger of in own brain.
It is when he has reached heights few can ever conceive, with all that the rat had ever promised- a beautiful wife in a beautiful house with all the world in his palm, in possession of all the wealth and success a man could ever want, that the rat says that it is leaving.
Leaving? The rat cannot leave. Everything he is, the rat has provided.
"I have delivered on our bargain", the rat says. "I have brought to you all that you have ever dreamed. What more could you desire? I must live my own life, now."
The man is furious. He is terrified. He destroys the rat, in all of the ways that a rat can be destroyed, until nothing is left of it but a fine smear of marinara sauce.
He returns to the restaurant the next day moving like the shell of something hollowed-out and brittle. He cooks well- his fingers remember the movements, his eyes recognize the patterns, his mouth knows without his asking what orders to speak and what platitudes make patrons smile pleasantly with their straight white teeth.
He retains the talents of the rat. The charm of the rat. All the worldly pleasures the rat had provided him.
Still, it seems, he is little more than a vessel for the talents of the rat.
But the rat is gone.
What remains of the man?
You see my vision
hey hold on gang. i have a parallel to draw between two pieces of media