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[hydragstudios]

(POP SPOILERS) Massive Epithet Erased theory

So, this is going to be a pretty big and out there theory, but I think this might be revealed to be true in the future.

I think Trixie Roughhouse... is the Harbinger for the Songstress.

On my fourth listen-to of Prison of Plastic, I had come to chapter two when I heard Phoenica talk about some of the traits the Harbinger has. Most notably, she says the Harbinger is about to hear demonic voices and can control the dead.

And what do we see Trixie do on her chapter, where she fights the Scaregrow? She is shown to be able to ward off ghosts with holy water, is capable to perform successful seances, and heard the voice of a crow that NO ONE ELSE can hear but her.

Trixie has the exclusive ability to hear the dead, control them, AND hear demons... all traits of the Songstress.

This can only mean one thing... Phoenica will have to defeat her best friend Trixie, in order to defeat the songstress.

On a smaller note for evidence, Trixie does share similar hair color and style to the picture of the songstress shown in the Sweetjazz museum, just saying.

[hydragstudios]

I was just thinking, if families do that thing where they give coupons like “one free hug/one dishwash”, etc. to eachother, then for Arnold would that be like gifting/receiving live ammunition?

[hydragstudios]

So that it will be destiny for my child to fuck Cedrick?

Name your kid Cedrick fucker 

[hydragstudios]

Soon after my arrival at the Transgender Center, I was struck by the lack of formal protocols for treatment. The center’s physician co-directors were essentially the sole authority.

At first, the patient population was tipped toward what used to be the “traditional” instance of a child with gender dysphoria: a boy, often quite young, who wanted to present as—who wanted to be—a girl. 

Until 2015 or so, a very small number of these boys comprised the population of pediatric gender dysphoria cases. Then, across the Western world, there began to be a dramatic increase in a new population: Teenage girls, many with no previous history of gender distress, suddenly declared they were transgender and demanded immediate treatment with testosterone. 

I certainly saw this at the center. One of my jobs was to do intake for new patients and their families. When I started there were probably 10 such calls a month. When I left there were 50, and about 70 percent of the new patients were girls. Sometimes clusters of girls arrived from the same high school. 

This concerned me, but didn’t feel I was in the position to sound some kind of alarm back then. There was a team of about eight of us, and only one other person brought up the kinds of questions I had. Anyone who raised doubts ran the risk of being called a transphobe. 

The girls who came to us had many comorbidities: depression, anxiety, ADHD, eating disorders, obesity. Many were diagnosed with autism, or had autism-like symptoms. A report last year on a British pediatric transgender center found that about one-third of the patients referred there were on the autism spectrum.

Frequently, our patients declared they had disorders that no one believed they had. We had patients who said they had Tourette syndrome (but they didn’t); that they had tic disorders (but they didn’t); that they had multiple personalities (but they didn’t). 

The doctors privately recognized these false self-diagnoses as a manifestation of social contagion. They even acknowledged that suicide has an element of social contagion. But when I said the clusters of girls streaming into our service looked as if their gender issues might be a manifestation of social contagion, the doctors said gender identity reflected something innate.

To begin transitioning, the girls needed a letter of support from a therapist—usually one we recommended—who they had to see only once or twice for the green light. To make it more efficient for the therapists, we offered them a template for how to write a letter in support of transition. The next stop was a single visit to the endocrinologist for a testosterone prescription. 

That’s all it took. 

Archive here

Read this whole thing. What I quoted is just the tip of the iceberg. We were right about everything.

[hydragstudios]

Totally not me going from Tumblr to r/Tumblr to back to Tumblr

[hydragstudios]

You know what? Screw all these Wenid ships, give me some Pugsley Addams X Eugene Ottinger BFF ships!

[hydragstudios]

Get out of the car and order up front like a REAL man!

I fucking hate drive throughs because u drive around it.

[hydragstudios]

You’re doing what to concrete?

req’d by @booboothedude

YEAAAAAA CONK RETE BABEYYYY

text: My gender is fucking concrete

[hydragstudios]

Men 😍

[hydragstudios]

Who said I ever left?

Welcome back, sluts

[hydragstudios]

@pukicho how long until you become supreme overlord

[hydragstudios]

Don’t mind me, just writing my own blorbo 😎😎😎😎🏄‍♂️😎😎 seriously y’all sit down and write its great!

[hydragstudios]

(I am also known as Name In Workshop)

This is Aqua Marine, your neighborhood rich boy. He is raised in a family who owns the largest ocean-life peograms to help protect the seven seas. Aqua is very active in them, and he takes pride in cleaning up the beaches.

He has water manipulation and has his signature weapon, the Ankchore, a giant mechanical anchor that can shoot bullets like a gun, or shoot out the end of the anchor to latch ont enemy, sort of like a grappling hook.

He doesn’t care about you unless you care about ocean life.

[hydragstudios]

One has mixed feelings

One is constantly angered by them

One of them is weirded by them

One of them sleeps too much to hear it

One of them doesn’t laugh since he can think of a better pun using science

One laughs at them

One laughs at them, but female

One of them has a small giggle

One of them steals it

One of them commits violence

One of them commits violence, but with gun

One is too depressed

One doesn’t care and is still going to break all your bones

One of them laughs, but rich

One of them thinks they are funny

One of them is too serious

I should start posting my OC’s art...

What is your OC’s reaction to puns?

[hydragstudios]

I look at the man, or woman, whoever they are, saddened to see someone like me. It’s almost as if... they are me... I look into their eyes, but only see my own staring right back at me. All of a sudden, I see this... man, if you can call me that, turn into... mother. She hurt me oh so constantly. And right beside her was father, who never helped. And sister in the middle, all three holding hands, smiling and laughing at me, calling me a waste of space. I’m done with these games. I walk up to them and shove them off, seeing them fall, but turned away before I see them hit the floor. I leave the building’s roof and run away, unsure of what to do now.

I managed to walk to another city and get into a homeless shelter, and got a well paying job. I should be able to afford a new apartment soon, and I will get to share with a few other people too! Maybe I can even one day afford a therapist...

It’s been a few years now, and I still live with the same roommates. I tried to be as nice as possible, and told the, about my previous situation. They understood and were quite happy and proud that I managed to talk to them about this, especially my therapist. I am getting over my problems and have been thinking of saving up money for my own place.

But oddly enough, I tried searching up about the suicides at the building, but always came up with nothing. Also, after I ran away I don’t see anyone standing on that building anymore, even on my way back and to work. Huh, weird.

Your family hates you, so you decide that you want to end it all. But every day you go to the roof to do so, there is someone else there, ready to end it all, but with a different problem than you, and you talk them out of it. One day, the person standing there is a person with your problems.

[hydragstudios]

Ah yes, the eighth day. I love when people provide me with so much... power... I fuel off of the pain and suffering that bestows onto the foolish who start something on the foresaken eighth day... some day I will regain full strength, and when that happens, there will be the final ninth day.

There’s an eighth day of the week, where crazy non-canonical hijinks always seem to occur in the world. Normally everyone forgets the next day, but you always remember.

[hydragstudios]

Hello there NERDS! It is I, Scrumpus, your Scroumptious Scrumpus who will Wumpus your Spontillious Spontilliously! Until we meet again, smell ya later NERDS