hey. you have to love your trans brothers of color okay. and your trans sisters of color. and your nonbinary siblings of color. you have to okay. its simply non-optional
you have to love your intersex siblings of color. you just have to

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@rabeesfoam
hey. you have to love your trans brothers of color okay. and your trans sisters of color. and your nonbinary siblings of color. you have to okay. its simply non-optional
you have to love your intersex siblings of color. you just have to
Oh hey there Grace.
Your stack of Dr. Henry jekyll but furry coded, sir.
THAT'S JUST MOST OF MY JEKYLLS
:D
HEY SHOW ME YOUR GUYYYYYYSSSSSSSS
HI WHICH GUYS? I HAVE MANY GUYS. FUCK IT YOU GET MOST RECENT
HERE IS MONSTER AND POP
when you send someone an art request and they actually draw it instead of sending 7 nukes to your house
Am I yuor friend
Yes
Who are you
Secret third option of spraying me with mace
hey don't cry gothic lit mutual, if we date the strange case to be around 1880's London, Dr. Jekyll probably wore a slutty little apron on top of his everyday clothes in his laboratory and not a white lab coat that only became popular towards the very end of the century, okay?
How to spring-load your bow!
This information is freely given. What you do with it is up to you! 🏹💐🧚🏼
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
sorry but this video is like a parasitic species to me
WONDERFUL news bestie
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
Jekyll and Hyde but drinking the potion is like a magical girl transformation and there’s just screams muffled behind sparkly music, the rest is the same.
Your daily reminder...
You do not need to post about things to care about them. "I see you not reblogging" is guilt-tripping.
You're allowed to curate your own blog. "I don't care if this doesn't fit your blog aesthetic" is guilt-tripping.
You're allowed to skip past posts that distress you. "x amount of people must reblog" is guilt-tripping.
Permission is not needed but for those whom it will make more comfortable; you are allowed to block people who post bullcrap that makes you feel guilty.
This post has no DNI; everyone may reblog regardless of syscourse stance, but reblogs are not required. Spread love.
− Helena, she/her, Emotional Protector from within the Cerberus collective Rylas, he/they, Tulpa and caretaker from within the Cerberus collective
My Name is 8 PM. and I am always arriving when you atrent Looking
M Nm s 8 PM. nd m lws rrvng whn y trnt Lkng
8.y
I o a a i's ooa eo
if you two had a baby it would be a regular sentence. or perhaps silence.
number one rule! never believe ur thoughts after 10 pm . unless its about The Character then believe all of your thoughts wholeheartedly
Why am i laughing so hard?