By My Fangs, You Shall Turn

i don't care about old social media posts that have coincidentally and mysteriously "resurfaced" following the outrage of transmisogynist fans. you clearly missed the part of this where Jax is reflective of Goose's past behavior of using edgy and harmful humor to play the bad guy and push people away in order to cover up the fact that she is a trans woman. you missed the part where Gooseworx has explicitly grown past that kind of behavior and Jax is an exercise in extending empathy to a past version of herself who was trying everything in her power to be uworthy of love and care. you fundamentally do not understand the art you are a fan of.

like that isn't the problem there. these people were already enslaved. everything about how society and the economy and whatever was structured was premised on them not being human. The Problem is for what propose they were being counted as 3/5ths of a person. it was for apportioning representatives and taxes. the south had millions of people enslaved. 3/5ths of those millions were considered for how many representatives the states had in congress. the more slaves, the more political power. and this had repercussions that echo down through to today. and this is reflected today in prison populations being counted for political representation but incarcerated people being disenfranchised. and in gerrymandering and in gutting the voting rights act. in the continued denial of political power to black people.

literally like everything this country does is a badge of slavery. everything is reproducing slavery while trying to forget it.

oh and the other side of the compromises: the taxes. the south could continue to benefit from slavery and accumulated political power as long as it meant the north and the federal govt could accumulate wealth and capital in tandem.

I need help bad. Idk what to say. I just im not sure if I want to keep trying. It feels like it all amounts to nothing. Im canceling dr appts bc I cant afford them. Im off my medications bc I cant afford them. I have until the 11th to save my car. My power will be off the 13th. I need food. Im exhausted. I just dont know how to keep going when for years I have tried and tried and done nothing but got sicker and sicker and therefore poorer and poorer. I don't think ive reached goal in months, years actually so i just keep drowning more. Im so tired. It feels like noone gives a fuck abt black women, abt poor women, abt disabled women, abt gay women, abt trans women. Feels like my and my wife's existence is just a joke to the universe.

If u are able to help me I'll put my paylinks and home needs wishlist below:

zlle: [email protected]

cshapp: $sailorsylvie

vnmo: Serena-Manning

pypal: [email protected]

Kofi

Home Needs Wishlist

My website where I sell handmade Press-On Nails

I was convinced he was going to instigate a rematch that I was too compromised to win, but also I was very unwell and unafraid to die, so I gave him a piece of my mind and rattled off a detailed list of everything I’d ever thought was wrong with him.

he didn’t reply—just stared me down, wordless, expressionless, cold unblinking eyes in the darkness.

a thought surfaced from the depths of my brain, washing ashore like a globster: this is exactly like wolves. this is a dominance display. a challenge. hold his gaze; do not break eye contact. keep your eyes open and relaxed to show that you are not concerned with his threat… too wide will show fear and submission, too narrow will suggest violence.

I held his gaze.

he moved forward, stalking towards me across the roof.

just like wolves, I thought.

he approached slowly, like he was moving underwater, or through a dream.

this is literally exactly like wolves, I thought.

he came closer.

wolves, my brain insisted.

closer still.

you’re handling this properly for sure.

uncomfortably close.

only when the tip of his nose was physically pressed against mine like fucking Marty McFly and his school principal did my brain finally admit that maybe, just maybe, this was NOT like wolves, and that maybe half-remembered dubious information I’d read in a kind of racist book about wolves once when I was nine years old was not applicable to my current situation.

who's checking in without you having to prompt them. who notices when you've gone quiet in a way that means something's wrong and asks about it instead of waiting for you to bring it up. who pays attention to the small things… like the fact that you haven't eaten properly, that you've been sleeping inconsistently, that you said you were fine in a tone that meant you weren't fine at all and hoped nobody would push on it.

nobody pushed on it. they never do. because you're so good at presenting functional that people take you at your word. because you've gotten so practiced at carrying things quietly that most people don't even know you're carrying anything. you make it look so easy. you make yourself so low maintenance. so reliable. so steady. and people get comfortable with that. they stop looking closely because you've never given them a reason to look closely.

but i'm looking.

i see the way you absorb things without letting them show. the way you process alone because bothering someone with it feels like too much to ask. the way you've gotten so good at managing your own needs quietly that sometimes you don't even register them as needs anymore. just background noise. just something to push through.

you've been pushing through for a long time haven't you…?

and i'm not saying you can't. i know you can. that's not the point. the point is that you shouldn't have to do all of it alone all of the time just because you're capable of it. capability was never supposed to mean nobody helps you. it just somehow ended up meaning that and you adjusted and kept going because that's what you do.

i don't want you to just keep going. i want you to actually be okay. there's a difference and i think you know there's a difference even if you've stopped expecting anyone to care about it.

i want to be the person who takes something off your plate today. not because you asked. but, because i'm paying attention and i can see that you're full and i want to help carry it. just some of it. the parts that are heaviest right now.

i want to check in and actually mean it. want to ask how you are and wait for the real answer instead of accepting fine and moving on. want to notice the things you don't say and ask about those specifically. want to be consistent enough that you stop bracing for the moment i stop showing up because i'm not going to stop showing up.

you're allowed to need things. i want to say that clearly because i don't think anyone says it to you enough. you're allowed to be tired. you're allowed to not have it together. you're allowed to put something down and let someone else hold it for a minute without feeling guilty about it or rushing to take it back before they get inconvenienced.

Recently, you cannot access Gooseworx's blog anymore, and people thought she deactivated her Tumblr. However, she was actually banned. When someone deactivates their main blog, a string of numbers and letters is attached to their username: "-deactivated[year][month][day]"

When you look at posts made by Gooseworx, there's no "deactivated" and no numbers

Some speculate that this might have been a sideblog, since there's no "deactivated" string if you delete a sideblog, but it was her main blog. You can't use sideblogs to like posts. If you search "Gooseworx liked this" on google, you will find proof ithat she liked multiple Tumblr posts.