#i'm just. so tired. so discouraged. so helpless.

[spiderfreedom]

women must learn about technology

one of the most common gender-limited roles across the world is the making of musical instruments. in the majority of cultures, men make musical instruments. flutes are almost exclusively made by men.

this may seem like a weird little curio - i certainly thought it was - until you read more. in many cultures, instruments are played by the people who make them. if women don't have the knowledge to make instruments, then they can't play the instrument, because instruments may not be made as gifts. instruments become gendered. men resent women entering on their space and refuse to share technical knowledge with them on how to play or make the instrument. women are limited to singing (if that) or simple instruments that they can make. there are very few instruments that "only" women are allowed to play/make.

in its extreme form, this results in taboo musical instruments (usually flutes for some reason) that women may not see or hear on pain of death.

"so what", i hear you say. "what do musical instruments have to do with anything?" well, it shows that one of the most common ways to limit women and raise up men is to prevent or discourage women from having technical knowledge.

even in our allegedly """superior""" western cultures, music production and engineering is almost entirely male-dominated. ask women in production and sound engineering, and you'll find that they face not just benign sexism/prejudice but downright hostility.

men become associated with technology. technology from tekhnos - art or craft. women become associated with spiritualism, the immaterial, the unprovable and ineffable ("we are reclaiming our feminine power through astrology!") or alternatively the body, the base, the mundane, the maintenance work, using machines and technology that they did not create.

knowledge is power. men have historically guarded certain kinds of knowledge/power from women. today, too many men continue this gatekeeping. "don't worry your pretty little head about how a car works, missy." too many women are happy to let them, afraid to challenge their learned helplessness. "I'm a passenger princess! i'm too dumb to know how a washing machine works!" (and i even see feminists say things like "thank god a butch woman was here to help me change my tires." why associate technological knowledge with a certain gender presentation?)

learning about technology can be scary. it's complicated and there's a large body of material to challenge. many of us have been conditioned into learned helplessness, and it's easier and more immediately rewarding to ask someone else to take care of our technological issues for us. there's the issue of stereotype threat where we're afraid to fail and confirm negative stereotypes of women. but if we're serious about empowerment, we must remember knowledge is power. women who know about carpentry don't need to rely on men. women who know how to fix their car can intelligently converse with male mechanics. knowledge is the thing they can't take away from you, you carry it with you where you go, and you can share it with other women. you don't need to learn about every field of technology - pick one that piques your interest (electronics? electricity? carpentry? HVAC? auto mechanics?) and begin reading about it. do beginner diy stuff. over time, you'll gain confidence and useful skills. then help fellow women.

[dreadfutures]

I hope and pray Bellara is not the ditzy woman in STEM people are already characterizing her as. 😭 we don't even know her yet at all!!! why we gotta just blatantly stereotype. I hope she has her bearings with her at all times. I hope she remembers to bathe. I hope she has normal social skills.

I am so tired of fandom and media making every smart woman in fiction into a helpless gets lost everywhere socially awkward baby who only knows how to socialize with robots. it's done so much damage to our fields and makes all our lives harder and discourages smart and charismatic women from joining the field because they think they don't belong or they don't want to belong because of who they think they'll be around.

I'm so sick of the bazinga-fication of us okay

And when you make women scientist characters I hope you remember that most scientists are fucking normal people who communicate normally and have exceedingly normal hobbies like rock climbing and can cook and can make art and like the humanities and have families and friends and have to work on TEAMS science is TEAMWORK it is no "lone genius in a lab" anymore it requires communication and social skills 😭 I'm so tired

this post inspired by seeing people already hoping for Bellara to be an absolute airhead. it's not cute anymore!!! put that one on someone else!!!

[zorilleerrant]

One, I look a your Wip in awe and horror because 1. Thats so many, and 2. Unfortunally I'm no better.

So Im gonna ask about the Cookie Run Wip because I never see anyone talk about Cookie Run and thats a crime

Thank you! I always say how many WIPs I have, and no one ever acknowledges how weirdly many it is! I'm trying to make time to write them all. Now, I know you're asking about the capybara one, but lucky for you, I actually have several ficlets! (My main Cookie Run WIP is called That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles and I've been trying to plot it out for like. a year. These are done tho!) Cookie Run Capy, Kulfis and Peaches, Cobalt, Buttercream Wyvern, plus a bonus I found in my notes!

Cookie Run Capybara

Caravan Leader Cookie had been doing this job a long time. He knew when to let his people rest. Sometimes it was just complaints, grumbling and dragging their feet, and in a rush like this, with the safety of a whole village on the line, well, those were safe enough to push past. Not fun, but safe. Safer than the passel of cookievorous plants on the loose, anyway.

Often, though, tempers flared when everyone was getting too tired to carry on. Temperamental enough and it could end up putting the goods at risk, if not the team, and Caravan Leader, for one, did not intend to be eaten. Least of all by plants taller than he was, and certainly not in the middle of a favor to an old friend.

The hot springs seemed like such a good idea. Like luck had guided him straight to them, just when he most needed a safe spot to take a break, a welcome respite in treacherous terrain. Sanity regained through the relaxation of body and mind. Perfect for his team.

He did not expect to find a creature already among them, enjoying the hospitality of the natural spa with the ease born of practice.

It would be easier if the creature were hostile. That, at least, his caravan knew well how to contend with. Caravan Leader Cookie recruited them for their quick response to hostile flora and fauna, and they’d have been just as quick as he was, if there were a threat. He didn’t want a fight – there’d been too many a time Caravan Leader had been pushed into a fight he never wanted, and he wouldn’t do that to his team – but he’d know what to do.

This creature wasn’t hostile. This creature wasn’t hungry, or territorial, or defending its young. It didn’t even take notice of them, not really.

At first, it had seemed dangerous. Caravan Leader froze, ready himself to creep slowly back, away from an unknown entity, furred, with a large horn protruding from its head. Careful observation, though, through several excruciatingly frozen minutes before it became clear they weren’t about to be attacked, revealed the horn to be merely citrus fruits. It was wearing them on its head as some sort of adornment.

Caravan Leader Cookie was helpless to do anything but watch as his people removed the oranges, waiting to see if the creature would react. With no thought to the importance of the decoration, or whether it might be possessive over its food, they took them. Then, to add insult to the injury they’d barely escaped, they began to replace what they’d taken with new items.

It might have ended badly. Caravan Leader had seen this sort of thing end so badly – and still, he hadn’t had time enough to shout a warning. He just had to trust they had the strength and training to pull themselves away, if the creature objected to, well –

Other citrus fruits. Letters and scrolls. A few rare silks, thought after the first, he managed to discourage most of them from raiding the caravan. Leaves. Twigs. Fragrant teas that fell into the hot spring, scenting the water. Nothing seemed to phase the odd creature.

Eventually, all the cookies but Caravan Leader climbed in to soak, reveling in the heat alongside the strange beast, evidently no more bothered by it than it was by them. Even through his cautions, they placed trinket after trinket atop it, small and large, light and heavy, delicate or robust. It was strangely compelling.

Caravan Leader Cookie watched, helpless, as his whole team surrounded the beast. And, lost to any other choice, he joined them. He plucked a flower from the basket he carried, placing it carefully as if tucking it behind the creature’s ear. He sank down into the hot spring, enjoying it just as much as everyone else. Or, judging by his laughter at the placid creature’s expense, more.

Kulfis and Peaches

Peach Blossom shoos away the young kulfis again, murmuring as he carefully turns over each shoot. Most are undamaged. But the life of a peach bao is so slow and meandering compared to the childhood of a kulfi that he hesitates to explain. It’s hard to know how to describe the shoots, which have been all the peach bao have ever been for each child’s young life, are not the whole of the plant, or the whole of the garden.

A peach bao grows so slowly, a single kulfi might never see it change. It’s a concept with philosophical merit, but, Peach Blossom fears, little to address practical concerns.

The answer, then, is clear: he must find a fruit with the same appeal, whose life is as fast as those who crave it. They need not understand why the life of a peach bao must be so slow, nor why that should matter to them, if they have something fine to take its place.

The thought grows in the garden of Peach Blossom’s mind. He tends it carefully each day, until the fill weight of it ripens. In this time, many kulfi have grown from the young, curious monkeys who attempt to pluck a fruit before its time, into the cautious and gentle adults who apologize for the disruption and ask after his harvest, dragging the youngsters away. Some, even, are now elders, beholding the wonder that is the growth of a peach bao, finally, with their own eyes. Still, it is time that must be spent for the idea to unfold.

Generation after generation, they cannot explain to the young that ancient things are sometimes more delicate than anything they’ve cupped between their hands, no matter how gently they held. That, even with planning as careful as that, the young might aways fall to impatience in the face of wonder. No matter what their elders advise.

They’re also, Peach Blossom has learned through careful study, perpetually hungry. Not the young kulfis in particular, but all children, and all quickly growing things. Hungry for food, and hungry for discovery. They climb on him and nibble at his hair, only to find the same icing most cookies are made of, instead of the juicy flesh of a ripe fruit.

It’s a testament to his design, his understanding of beauty, his patience with his craft, that his painstakingly styled hair elicits this response. It also tickles.

He tries to ignore them as he brings his idea, now heavy enough to pluck from the branches of his thoughts, to the kulfi elders.

There is a fast-lived cousin of the peach bao, Peach Blossom begins. Though its growing conditions are similar, its sweet scent so much the same, its fruit a close enough approximation it might be confused for his hair – still, it’s much for one cookie to tend to. Experience aside, Peach Blossom is still just one cookie, tasked with a detailed and painstaking treasure to maintain. He is concerned, of course, for his fragile garden, but this gives him little time or energy to grow another. Still, he would have his surrounded, for the sake of the little ones.

It will be as a wall of fruit, those fast growing peaches, to delight and distract those curious youth with too much energy of their own. The young kulfi with curious minds and curious mouths might eat to their hearts’ content, and perhaps even be convinced to help as they grew to love the garden, by and by.

The elders confer. They, like Peach Blossom, are patient, and will not rush to a decision. Peach Blossom slips gracefully into a seat, settling to wait, but they return almost before he knows it. They have a verdict. They smile at him, and take their own seats.

We have reached a decision, they say, as Peach Blossom inclines his head. They speak with gravitas, a solemnity to their words, even as they seem to agree. So it is often, when Peach Blossom speaks to those who must make decisions on behalf of others. They cannot ask the young to tend the gardens. It would be much the same as telling them not to play among the shoots, and so Peach Blossom would be no better off.

As they grow older, and calmer, and fonder of beauty, this will change. Many kulfi will tend to his trees, if Peach Blossom will show them where to plant each one, but they will be not young nor almost young. The elders will set the example, and others will follow.

And so, as the years pass, the garden wall grows larger and larger, ever more trees with ever more fruits for those who chase up the mountain to seek and find and delight in. Peach Blossom’s garden remains the same as ever, beyond the reach of too excitable palms, nestled in the center. Occasionally, a quiet visitor will come by, hoping to study his crop, asking after their welfare in solitude once more.

Cobalt

Cobalt loves to feed the pigeons. They trust him, in a way few do. It’s easy being the strong, silent type when you want to keep everyone else at arm’s length, but they form opinions nonetheless, and they base them on what evidence they have.

Pigeons aren’t anything like that. Pigeons don’t know anything about cookies, so they don’t judge cookies they don’t know anything about. They wait to see what Cobalt will do, and judge him only by what they’ve seen directly. Pigeons only care about a handful of things in life, and all of those things are relatable.

Food. Cobalt himself enjoys a good meal, especially surrounded by friends. The local flock swarms together as they eat, pressed softly wing to wing. A soft place to sleep. Cobalt, too, builds himself cozy nests when he can find the security to do so. He curls like they do, nestling in as he settles down to sleep. Their families and friends, as well.

Curiosity, too. A pigeon is interested in strange sights and strange sounds, might even take a strange morsel from Cobalt’s hand. They seek out answers. If one provides the correct incentive, perhaps a pigeon may even be interested in the same sights and sounds and strangeness as Cobalt. They’re happy enough to accompany him, from time to time, no matter how much higher his curiosity burns than theirs.

He understands them. That, more than feeding them, might be why Cobalt has so little trouble enticing them to send messages when he needs them to.

Buttercream Wyvern

It’s curious. There’s a cookie moving towards her, but not as if he’s attempting to capture her, the way some cookies do. Buttercream’s never been interested in fighting cookies, testing her merits against them, becoming a celebrated so-and-so, and yet… there’s an undeniable allure to being a cookie carrier, part of that kind of team.

Buttercream sniffs him as the cookie presses himself up against a tree, well away from the other wyverns. He’s just barely in her territory. She pokes her snout out, just testing the air, and he begins shaking, stammering, backing away from her. Buttercream spreads her wings to show she’s friendly, spears out her claws to invite him to play, but instead he’s frozen in fear, right on the edge of her home, staring at her.

She certainly has her work cut out for her, with a cookie this petrified of the smallest wyvern – especially if he pans on dragon fighting, like those other cookies. She doesn’t know if all cookies do that, but Buttercream is sure cookies can’t be so different from each other as all that. Yes, it’s up to her to whip him into shape. She bellows soothingly.

The cookie faints. Buttercream takes pity, and, biting him gently on the ankle, she drags him to her den to tuck him in. There’s a nice pile of eaves to get him settled all comfy and cozy, and she brings more, just to make sure he’s covered up all warm. When he wakes up, she can explain their new partnership to him.

Plant Hunter Cookie/Customer Cookie

All his life, he was surrounded by nothing but finery. Everything in his life was soft. The silks he donned each morning were the first thing to touch his hands, and the down he laid his head on at night was the last. His food melted like liquid as it touched his tongue, and his drinks were light as only air. He liked it this way.

He liked the subtle fragrances that followed him from room to room, the frosted lights that brightened without hurting his eyes. He liked the quiet conversation and almost silent burbling of laughter that accompanied his friends into his home. He liked the peacefulness of sunrise, and the slow start to a long morning. And he liked his space.

Every day until now, he liked his space.

Then, between one moment and the next, there was someone in his space that he didn’t mind at all.

Those first few moments, of course, he needed her in his space, to prevent him from being gorged on by monsters, but there was no weight to her nearness, not in those moments not the lingering ones after. Her warmth was the gentle lapping of a foot spa, not the roar of a wildfire. Where everyone else took careful tending to be close to for more than the small moments of a game or a meal, he felt as if he might stay close to her forever and never burn to ash. Though, of course, preferably without the monsters.

Her hair wasn’t the silken layered lines of his; it hung in messy strands bound up for convenience, and yet it caught the light in subtle fracture to highlight its radiant glow. Her movements weren’t his methodical, tempered steps; her feet were lively, unpredictable, and still imbue with a dancer’s unwavering grace. When she took his hand the calluses on her pam were somehow the softest thing he’d ever felt.

When he went to bed that night, he set a candle with a strange fragrance, a little too strong, a little more earthy than he was used to. It reminded him of her. His silken robes he tied unevenly the next morning, not messily, but with a touch of an angular skew, offset just so, as her hair had been. His morning tea was replaced with a bright and biting blend – new, and curious. He didn’t quite mix his sugar into his porridge, and when he felt the granules rasp against his tongue, it seemed more vibrant than it ever had, carefully stirred.

Perhaps he could make her life more soft.

Perhaps she could make his more brilliant.

[arzner]

Maybe I just notice it more now that I'm in my 30s, but it seems like in so many different places I read just for casual conversation/gossip, people seem absolutely fixated on believing that women need to act in a ~certain way~ once they hit 30. You have to put away all "frivolous" hobbies and interests, you can't have any fun anymore, you have to be extremely mature and sure of yourself and never petty or flawed, you have to have Settled Down in life, etc. I find it really ridiculous. Then I wonder if I'm just particularly immature for my age or something, but I don't really think so. I just don't think there's that big of a difference between your late 20s and early 30s, I don't think that everyone needs to be on the same timetable or doing the same things in life anyway, and obviously I certainly don't think that women need to be hidden away at home raising children and serving men and doing nothing for themselves or whatever it is these people think women "need" to be doing by a certain age.

I don't want to pin this on any one group or start any silly generation wars, but it does seem like a lot of this comes from people a generation or so younger than me...which I guess is somewhat natural: when you're really young you sometimes kind of think everyone older than you is Old, but in some ways it seems more pronounced in this group. Fear of aging is not new in the slightest, but I've had to spend some time with people about a decade younger than me lately (when usually I find myself around people my own age or older) and they seem really fixated on ages even down to thinking, for example, that a 24-year-old is markedly older than a 22-year-old, and they talk about age constantly. Maybe it's just the particular people I've been around. I don't know. It's just not something I remember my peers being as obsessed with when we were their age. I remember thinking that everyone within about five years of my age was the same as me when I was in my 20s.

It's all been bothering me lately, and I should probably just ignore it, but I guess it's hitting me at a time when I finally felt like I'd mostly gotten over all the fears and insecurities about aging, and it's sort of dragging me right back. It also depresses me that so many people, even self-proclaimed progressives, truly think that women don't deserve to live our lives for ourselves...and that having hobbies and interests past a certain age is pathetic, that spending any time online past a certain age is inappropriate, that our only purpose in life is settling down with a bunch of babies and a husband. They may know better than to say this so explicitly, but it's clear that this is what they believe deep down.

Maybe people want to believe that something mystical happens the day you turn 30, but it really doesn't. You don't change overnight, you don't unlock any secret wisdom, you aren't suddenly ancient... You're the same person you were the night before when you were 29. It's also frustrating that so many people think having kids and/or marrying men is the only path to "maturity" for women. I know plenty of immature parents and plenty of mature childfree people, plenty of 30-somethings who are totally unsure of themselves and plenty of 20-somethings who are quite mature... I don't say any of this to discourage growth or encourage immaturity and helplessness in adults -- I just think there are so many different ways to live your life, and I'm deeply tired of running into these totally regressive, sexist attitudes lately. Way too many people have such strange ideas about what a woman in her 30s "should" be. Maybe they haven't been around enough people in their 30s, but we're as varied as people in their 20s are.

[vertical-dreams]

11.08.23

a post to vent

I tire of it all so easily. I wonder if I'm just lazy, as I've been told. I wonder if I'm depressed (it runs in the family, you know). Maybe some of those. But I also remember that a plant's ability to thrive is based on its environment.

I love everyone in my life and I am so grateful for the people and things that I have in my life.

It upsets me when I am mocked and ridiculed. I avoided a job for so long, which I must take accountability for. It was influenced by people telling me to focus on school, that I might not do well managing both, which fed into my fear of losing my scholarship. But I traded independence for security.

Maybe the mocking is just a rite of passage. Maybe it is out of love. But should love ever make one feel so deflated, so defeated by life, so embarrassed? I lack confidence, and I don't think the consistent ridiculing has ever helped. Ridiculed for not having a job (by the same people who discouraged me to get one) made me feel crazy, ashamed, and little. A small little sprout being trampled on before reaching its potential. Leaving school on the weekends, then the evenings, because family were 'crying themselves to sleep' over how much they missed me. And me, being afraid that if I didn't come back, they'd seek solace elsewhere, like an abusive ex. I felt the weight of too much responsibility that I did not prompt or otherwise instigate. Then, made fun of at school for not being there. It was hard to feel comfort.

Looking after my family, despite them being pretty independent. They still have a tendency to put themselves in dangerous situations, so I have been a watchful eye and a helping hand (at some points, I hope, though it seems by their reactions that perhaps I am not much help at all). Does everyone and no one need me? Staying at home for my final semester for money from the school (that I did not receive) and to appease my family and to maintain my own comfort. Being berated for not wanting to go in public as much, not having a job, having thoughts and opinions that dared to be different. It breaks my heart to hear that my opinions are stupid, that I don't know what I'm talking about, and that I should shut the fuck up. It makes me sad.

It is also a lack of privacy. Being an adult but fearful of dating because I know I will face criticism and questions for going out and meeting new people. It is learned helplessness, as I avoid trying things because I know someone else will not be satisfied with my work, and I will receive an earful.

Maybe that is what independence is, learning to rely on yourself and not the words of others too much. Maybe I am the only one who will push myself, kindly and gently, out of my comfort zone (without backlash, because I deserve politeness and decency). I deserve everything I want in life. Just keep trying to spread love.

[wernerherzogs]

Będzie o "polityce". A tak naprawdę będzie o LGBT. Czyli o ludziach. Urzędujący prezydent zaproponował dzisiaj swoją "kartę rodziny", w której zadeklarował, w ramach propagandowego chwytu walkę z "ideologią LGBT". I teraz tak, odcedźmy na chwilę propagandę, medialną sieczkę, dochodzący zewsząd jazgot. Bo to, co kryje się za tym terminem, "walki z ideologią LGBT", jest głupie, przykre i nieludzkie. Nie ma czegoś takiego jak "ideologia LGBT". Nigdy nie było. LGBT nie jest żadną polityczną wykładnią, myślą, jak marksizm, liberalizm, faszyzm, etc. LGBT to ludzie. Ludzie którzy nie walczą o żadne przywileje - bo szacunek i możliwość kochania kogo się chce to nie jest żaden przywilej, to podstawowe prawo człowieka. Ludzie, którzy nie chcą ukrywać swojej tożsamości i bać się przemocy, agresji, wykluczenia z powodu tego, kim są. Przywilej to coś innego, przywilej to specjalne traktowanie, na przykład - zwolnienie z podatków. A wiecie, ktow Polsce nie płaci podatków? Za pojęciem "ideologii LGBT" kryje się dosyć straszna i głupia idea, że homoseksualizm jest czymś, do czego można kogoś przekonać, nakłonić, zdeprawować, że w homoseksualistę można kogoś zamienić. I odwrotnie - w wierze w "ideologię LGBT" kryje się też jeszcze bardziej złowieszczy pogląd, że homoseksualizm można cofnąć, naprawić, wyleczyć. Jest to pogląd nie mający żadnych podstaw ani biologicznych, ani psychologicznych, ani socjologicznych. Wiara w to, że homoseksualizm jest cechą nabytą, ma tyle samo podstaw, co wiara w zbawienną moc żył wodnych, lewoskrętnej witaminy C, czy płaskoziemstwo. Jest de facto, foliarstwem - jednak o tyle groźnym, że w przeciwieństwie do wiary w zbawienne możliwości witaminy C, skutkującym potworną krzywdą wielu ludzi. Nie można nikogo zmienić w homoseksualistę. Ze skłonnościami homoseksualnymi człowiek się rodzi, i ma je do końca życia. Nikt za to nie rodzi się z lękiem, nietolerancją, uprzedzeniem. Te cechy się nabywa. Za pojęciem "ideologii LGBT" kryje się też ciche zrównywanie homoseksualizmu z pedofilią. Ten znak równości nie ma też żadnych podstaw w biologii, psychologii ani psychiatrii. Pedofilia jest zarówno hetero- jak i homoseksualna. Jaka by nie była, jest potworną krzywdą wyrządzoną dziecku, zbrodnią, która powinna być ścigana z całą surowością prawa. Grając na najbardziej atawistycznym strachu, czyli lęku o własne dzieci, w nieludzko cyniczny sposób urzędujący prezydent zapowiada cenzurę - bo "zakaz promocji ideologii LGBT w instytucjach publicznych" będzie de facto cenzurą. Z wątków homoseksualnych będą cenzurowane wystawy, filmy, przedstawienia teatralne. Ale to też nie tylko cenzura - to zezwolenie na represje, dręczenie, mobbing, przemoc w białych rękawiczkach, cierpienie, to powtórka z akcji "Hiacynt" - informacja o czyimś homoseksualiźmie stanie się narzędziem, który będzie można wykorzystać przeciwko każdemu pracownikowi instytucji publicznej. Jestem daleki od spanikowanych fantazji. Granie "walką z ideologią LGBT" to cyniczna walka z ludźmi, obywatelami Polski, potworne poszerzanie podziałów. Gej, lesbijka, transseksualista to Polak, wyborca, sąsiad, przyjaciel, brat, siostra, córka, syn, kolega, koleżanka, przemiła pani spod piątki, chamski szef i ten kutas pierdolony, który zawsze zabiera nam miejsce parkingowe. To ludzie, jeden z drugim. Ludzie. LGBT to nie ideologia. Ale walka z ideologią LGBT to ideologia nienawiści.

-- Jakub Żulczyk

[askmommylonglegs]

Helloo..

This is the post everyone's probably wondering about. I know it's a little long, but you guys deserve the context. Please read it all the way through. I'm also not looking to start beef, so with this explanation, if you know some of the people I'm talking about, I ask you not to contact them about this. It's not worth the fight. I'm just tired. I will not be continuing this blog. I know I don't have very many posts here, and I'm sorry to those of you who I upset with this post... but trust me, there's a reason I'm making it. So, I started this blog as a fun side-project, hoping to have fun with it. I eventually got overwhelmed with quite a few things, one of which being my new job and another of which being my schoolwork. I lost all motivation to draw this blog, and I started focusing more on wanting to further my career. So, this became kind of... not fun very quick. I also was offered money to sell the specific dubbing rights to this blog to someone, which I originally accepted, but the initial conversation also kind of... soured me. It wasn't the person approaching me's fault, but the fact I actually got so overwhelmed with the "why you should let us dub it instead of ___" part that I started crying may have had something to do with it. I tried to do other ask series stuff after this on the main channel I work on, but time and time again I was discouraged from doing so by different people. The last one I wanted to work on, "ASK THE LAMB" (Cult of the Lamb inspired), I was actually kind of... barred from doing so, because someone else (the same person who approached me about this blog), approached me saying they had the idea first... but that they just never posted about it. And because they managed to chug the whole thing out in a week and sweet-talk me a bit in DM's, I just... couldn't do it. I felt defeated and belittled by someone bigger than me. The project was cancelled, because for the third time I felt I could do nothing. I felt helpless. And that extended to this blog as well. It feels bad being practically barred from creating something within the first two weeks because someone bigger than you takes the idea then claims they did it first. And so I decided I won't do any more ask blogs. Instead, I'll revive my presence on Tumblr on my main blog, which I'll link to in a separate post. On that blog, I can promise you all I will draw at least one Mommy Long Legs piece. Kind of a last hurrah type thing. --- TLDR: I won't be continuing this blog because of school, work, and life obligations, as well as my self-esteem as an artist being driven into the mud by someone with 10x my follower count telling me an idea that I posted about first was their idea that they "just hadn't posted about yet." But you guys can find me on my other socials that will be linked in the next post. Also, I will leave this blog up for now, but I will not be answering asks anymore. I'm sorry. Again, thank you all for the love and support. I apologize for you all having to wait this long for something that I should have just.. said. Catch you all on the flip. <3 -DottDraws

[samsvenn]

cw! rant

i sincerely hate tumblr's writing engine. i was writing a really good headcanon that will probs be a future post but with how tumblr resets everything and it's questionable glitches, tumblr not only resetted my work, but completely deleted all of it. The draft is nowhere to be seen. I put a lot of writing into just one post and I'm so sick and tired of wanting to write something, tumblr being wonky and destroying it and feeling helpless bc there's nothing I can do except focus on trying to fix it or else i'll have nothing to write as usual or just not write for another four days to completely cool my head off.

four drafts that had my time and effort put into them either had to be postponed, deleted or I have just outright given up on completely.

i want to write but tumblr's being the biggest bitch rn. with how things are, tumblr honestly discourages me from writing the most than any writing block i've experienced in the year

[mrfeenysmustache]

Some Family is Found

Summary: A collection of vignettes about the Higurashi family, from Single Dad Souta, schoolyard fights, blended family of three then four, and learning to let go and let fate take control.

"Papa Souta!"

Yanked from sleep with a harsh gasp, Souta was already half rolled out of bed and running before his eyes had fully opened. He knew that tone, scared and frail and small, and his body had become well trained over the last year to respond to it immediately.

He dashed quickly from his room to hers, throwing open the door and flinging himself inside right to her little bed where she sat wide eyed and terrified much like she had been when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Towa! I'm here. You're safe. It was just another nightmare."

No sooner had he sat next to her had she thrown herself into his arms, shaking and snuggling while he crooned wordlessly and petted her soft, white hair.

The first time she'd called him Papa had been a night just like this one. A handful of months passed with her in his care and every night she woke in a fright, babbling about sisters and fires and someone named Setsuna. She'd clung to him just this way, rubbed her sniffling little nose into his shoulder and called him Papa with a shaky sigh that bound his heart right up.

Her nightmares came further apart from that night on, but every once in a while he was still needed to chase away the darkness.

"It's okay, it will all be alright." He shushed gently, swaying her back and forth while he scratched at her scalp and rubbed her back. Eventually she quieted down and then went limp with sleep again. He tucked her back into her bed, smoothed the hair back from her forehead and smiled at the peace that returned to her little cherub face.

He checked her alarm clock and sighed; it was early enough that she wouldn't normally be up, but his own alarm clock was about to go off, signaling his painfully early study hour. He was almost done with his degree and then waking before the sun could, hopefully, become a thing of the past. With one last look at the sweetly sleeping face of his little daughter, Souta quietly left her room to return to his own.

———

The bell chimed the end of the day and a flurry of tiny bodies rushed passed him, giggling and squealing and eager to leave the school yard behind until tomorrow. Souta gulped and straightened his shoulders before striding across the lawn and entering the doors once the last of the children had filtered out.

He'd spent enough of his own childhood here to know where he was going, and his legs carried him unconsciously to the principals office where he'd been called in for an important meeting.

He steeled himself at the door and took another deep breath before opening it dipping his head in greeting to the principal and eyeing the wilted form of the white haired toddler he'd been asked to come in to discuss.

His heart panged at the sight of her, his normally vibrant girl so small and sad and dejected, one of her pigtails drooping and a bright red scuff mark marring her round cheek.

'Oh no...'

"Higurashi-San, Thank you for coming."

"Of course." He replied, sitting in the empty seat across from the large desk.

A pair of sad red eyes shifted his way and he smiled softly, reassuringly.

The principal finally looked up from her paper work and blinked, looking perplexed before adjusting her glasses.

"I'm so sorry, there must be some confusion, I believe I requested that Towa-Chan's mother or father come in to speak today."

Souta winced internally, but kept his expression genial and placid.

"Yes, you did. There's no confusion. I am Higurashi Souta, Towa-Chan's father."

The principal blinked again and cleared her throat, looking between he and little Towa with a glint in her eye he didn't appreciate.

"My, you certainly look very young to be a father." She said crisply, and Souta bristled and struggled to keep his tone polite.

"I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to know I hear that quite a lot."

"Yes well. Let's get to the point, shall we? Towa-Chan has been exhibiting some shocking behavior of late. We are very concerned."

"As are we, she's made us aware that she's been on the receiving end of some unfair teasing."

The principal sniffed and shuffled her papers before folding her hands primly.

"Be that as it may, we can not tolerate violence against our other children, and Towa has instigated several physical altercations this week alone. Unless something drastic is done, she is risking expulsion."

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his seat, meeting the principal's gaze unflinchingly before looking once again on Towa. She still didn't look up, staring at her feet and making herself as small as possible. It broke his heart, and he heaved a sigh before looking back to the principal with a smile.

"I understand. I'll talk with her tonight. Thank you for your time."

He stood and scooped Towa up from her seat. She curled into him and he strode quickly out of the building. He stopped on the stairs to switch her over to his back, and after hooking his arms behind her knees she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed a forlorn sigh.

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I caused so much trouble."

Her little voice, small and broken, tore into him, and he wondered if he might be doing something wrong.

He knew he was young to be a father, especially to a school aged child like Towa. She was barely six, but he wasn't quite out of university just yet, and was far from the ideal situation for having small, helpless people depending on you. He still had so much to learn himself.

"Don't worry about it Towa-Chan. No one wants to be picked on. You just need to remember your strength. You aren't like the other kids, you're much stronger."

"Okay." It was barely above a whisper, and Souta hated for her to sound like that.

The rest of the journey home was made in heavy silence, but Mama Higurashi swept in to lend her gentle touch and Souta watched Towa brighten a little under her attention.

Cookies and tea and an affectionate pat on the head as her grandmother helped her color a picture soon had Towa back on track and Souta sighed in relief.

"Why don't you go and study for your upcoming final and leave us girls to our own business, hm?"

"Thanks mama."

——

Mama Higurashi tearfully hung the picture she'd taken just a few nights before on the wall, brimming with love and pride.

Souta smiled back from the center of the frame draped in his graduation gown with Towa beaming atop his shoulders, his graduation cap covering her white hair.

It's not what she ever expected the photo of his university graduation would look like, but she glanced at the high school graduation photo of her firstborn daughter and grinned.

Both of her children seemed fated to walk interesting paths that twisted off from the rigid one set in place by society at large.

She couldn't say she was anything but proud.

A squeal of delight drew her attention to the window nearby and she watched indulgently as Souta scooped Towa up before falling to the ground with her, tickling her sides while she laughed and wiggled away.

A thread of worry wrapped around her heart then and she said a silent prayer that this new school year coming up for her would be easier than the last.

A new school, a fresh start, hopefully her granddaughter would fare better with the students at this school than she had before. She was such a dear girl with an unshakable sense of justice that she already couldn't help but fight tooth and nail for.

The sun glowed off her little white pony tails and her smile stretched freely across her face, and Mama Higurashi found herself wondering not for the first time if they hadn't ended up adopting Kagome and Inuyasha's child.

She looked very little like them aside from her hair color, but she certainly had Kagome's sense of right and wrong and Inuyasha's strength to back it up.

The likelihood of that was low, especially as she'd only ever spoken of someone named Setsuna.

"Well, time to call them in for dinner."

———

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I cause you so much trouble..."

"It's alright Towa. I was thinking this other school would be better for you anyway. They have a wrestling team!"

Her eyes still held a glimmer of uncertainty and guilt, and though he was was stressed and concerned, he didn't want her shouldering such feelings all the time.

He knew she remembered her life before he'd found her on his front lawn, that she'd come from somewhere else before they'd taken her in, before he'd decided raise her as his own child, and he had a suspicion that she feared he might one day grow tired of her escapades and be done with her.

But he just couldn't. She may not have come from him, but she was his.

He was going to stick with her no matter what.

We have to go pick up your uniform next week, they have several colors to choose from, is there one you like best?"

He handed her the brochures and watched her nose scrunch up at the list of pictures of skirts with different colors and numbers of pleats, and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright.

"Um, no, I don't have any preferences."

"You're sure?"

"Anything is fine, really!"

"Alright. Well, have you been practicing with the sword you found with grandpa the other day?"

Suddenly her face lit up like the sun, and Souta sat back and listened while she detailed all the things she'd been practicing that she'd seen on various internet videos.

Her last teacher had admonished him for allowing her to peruse such interests.

'It's wildly unlady like. You should not be encouraging swordplay from a girl who already can't control her violent urges with her peers!'

She'd even thrown in a barb about her lack of a mother.

But while Souta agreed that Towa needed to be less violent while at school, he couldn't imagine discouraging her from the things she loved, even if they weren't the most feminine.

She bounced around the room, showing him some of the swings and stabs she'd nearly mastered and he couldn't help but think her Aunt would be so proud to watch her follow in her footsteps.

———-

"Grammy, when will Papa Souta be home again?"

"Oh much later I think Dear. I'll be tucking you in tonight, is that alright?"

Towa nodded solemnly but then burst into bright giggles when she saw her grandmother pull the secret stash of cookies out from the back of the cleaning cabinet.

"It's a big night Towa, what say we celebrate early?"

Mama Higurashi sat on the couch and let Towa settle in beside her before opening the box and letting her select two.

"One for each hand!" She chirped, smiling up at her, red eyes glimmering. It was their long standing tradition and she cherished how much her rapidly growing granddaughter still enjoyed it. She was now teetering on the edge of childhood, a vibrant girl rapidly approaching her pre-teen years.

"One for each hand my darling."

"So... you think she'll say yes?"

Mama eyed her granddaughter for a moment, but her face was unreadable.

"I do. She's a lovely woman."

"Yeah. She is."

"Do you not wish for her to join the family?"

Towa crunched into her cookie and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's not that. What if she doesn't like living with me all the time?"

"Oh Towa honey, Moe-Chan loves you! She's probably the most understanding person we've ever known. She's certainly taken everything in stride."

"She makes Papa Souta happy."

"She does. You know most of all he wants you to be happy though, right dear?"

"And I want him to be happy too. So yes, I hope she says yes tonight." Towa replied, leaning into her grandmother's side.

"Can we watch my favorite movie tonight?"

"That awful horror film? No chance young lady!"

Towa erupted into giggles while her grandmother put on calm, soothing movie they both enjoyed, and Towa drifted off into sleep feeling safe and content.

———-

Moe Higurashi hovered awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching Towa as she sat still as a statue at the dining table, head down and pillowed on her arms. She heaved a tired sigh, and Moe's heart constricted.

She'd known before she married Souta that his daughter had many troubles at school. She was strong and sure and didn't stand aside when others were being mistreated. Thus, she was often a target for those who wanted to prove themselves stronger than her.

Towa had started another new school just this week, and already the fighting had started again. She could practically feel the stress and guilt oozing off her young step-daughter's young shoulders, and she wanted so badly to do something about it without overstepping any boundaries.

An idea struck her and she stepped quietly away to retrieve her violin from her room. Towa had not moved an inch when she returned, and in fact didn't seem to be aware of anything outside of her own troubled thoughts.

Moe hesitated for one more moment before delicately clearing her through and startling Towa out of her funk.

"May I sit here please?"

Towa nodded and watched silently as Moe took the seat across from hers and began tuning the strings of her violin. And then, without a word, she brought the instrument up, held it in place, and pulled the bow across the strings. She played something low and soothing, something that filled the room as well as all the stormy spots in Towa's mind until she felt the tension melt from her.

She put her head back down, but this time Moe noted with pride that her shoulders were noticeably less rigid. She continued to play even after Towa lifted her head and listened with a smile.

———-

There had been many times in the month since bringing his new baby home that Souta thought his heart would burst open with love and pride and happiness, and this time was no different.

Little Mei, still so small and sleepy and new, was reclined comfortably on a soft blanket his mother had knitted. She was fast asleep, swaddled tightly into a little bundle, and Towa had stretched out on the floor next to her, gazing lovingly down at her and running her fingers over the soft, wispy hairs on her head. She was whispering something, something he couldn't quite make out, but the look of devotion on her face toward her new little sister took his breath away. They were as mismatched a set as he'd ever seen. Mei's soft brown hair and eyes contrasted sharply to the burning red of Towa's eyes, or the shock of silver that grew from her head, but they both lived deep inside his heart.

Moe entered from the opposite side of the room from the kitchen with a flour stained apron around her waist.

"There are my girls! Towa, I've brought you a cookie fresh from the oven."

"Thank you Mama Moe." She whispered in return, careful not to wake her sister, and Souta watched Moe valiantly attempt to keep her own emotions in check. He knew how much it meant to her that Towa had grown so close to her.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Moe went back into the kitchen, and Souta took another indulgent moment to watch his daughters begin forging their bond.

————

Souta held his smile until the moment the shining portal winked out of existence, and then his expression fell and he grabbed desperately for his mother's hand.He squeezed it and she responded immediately.

"Souta, what's wrong my son?"

"How-" he gulped around the fear rapidly growing and choking him, watched Moe scoop up a crying Mei, silent tears tracking down her own face, and knew the dam on his emotions would break soon. "How did you do it mama? How did you... how did you let Kagome go over and over and over? How were you always okay with this?!"

Mama sighed and rubbed his back, staring off into nothing for a moment as old fears and anxieties swam back up from the recesses of her memories.

"Come inside my dears, let me make you some tea and try to ease your worries. At least, let me help you try to manage them better than I was able."

Souta hung back until the others had filed inside and looked back at the place his daughter had just disappeared without a trace. He'd watched his sister vault over the well time and again and remembered the distant fears he'd had for her as a child.

But she'd had Inuyasha, his larger than life living legend brother-in-law who he was convinced could beat any opponent conceivable.

This time, he wasn't a child anymore, and this wasn't his sister.

This was his child, one he'd practically grown up with he'd been so young when he'd adopted her.

And though he knew what she was, the very same sort of being his childhood hero was, still he worried.

For her safety, for her wellbeing, for her life.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he prayed, that she would remain safe and unharmed, that she would find what she was looking for, that she would solve her quest, that she would return to them.

And then he wiped the tears from his face, and turned from the Sacred Tree that had taken her away, and he walked inside, trailing pieces of his heart behind him.

[hlvrai-loving]

Fancy Suit Among The Woes

Disclaimer: I am not Spanish. Feel free to let me know if anything is incorrect or phrases are used wrong. Also I'm doing this on mobile so forgive the appearance haha.

Sofía had spent her morning much more calmly than any of her others. Work wouldn't be starting as early for her today, something about her overtime needing to be cut down temporarily. Despite this, she still wore her uniform, kept her hair tied, and applied her makeup before even considering to take a seat and a sip of her coffee. "Another long day ahead..." she found herself thinking, "And yet... no amount of hours will ever be enough, will they?"

To a degree, that's how it always seemed. Working miserable hours all day every day for a decade had given her nothing more than headache after headache and just enough for them to live comfortably. She let out a sigh, it was too much to mull over... Nothing good came from thinking too much about the negative, but positive thoughts always seemed just out of reach for her these days...

And that was when Joshua came by, fingers fidgeting against one another and his expression displaying a slight anxiety.

"Ah, morning, mijo..." She brushed a stray hair behind her ear, mouth pressed into a small smile. "Didn't think you'd be up so early, you don't have school today."

Her son lowered his head, thinking over his words carefully. "... M-mom, I... I was, uh... You aren't b-busy, are you?"

He seemed... troubled by something. Sofía raised a brow. "No, niño. Are you well? You look tired and sick..." She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, only for him to brush it away.

"I'm fine, I'm f-fine, just... I... I n-need to tell you, uh... a l-little something... but you have to p-promise me, you... you w-won't be w-worried, okay?"

And now was the time to worry. But, as a mother, Sofía has mastered the art of keeping a calm appearance in the face of any peril. Of course, knowing Joshua, it wouldn't be anything too serious. He was never the type to get into trouble.

God, how she wished that were still the case.

"I promise. You can tell mamá anything, cariño."

And here marked the moment where Sofía experienced something every mother fears: helplessness. For no other word held a candle to what she felt as her son went on about his activities for the past few months. News about her long-missing husband, paranoia over somebody spying on him, fears and desperation surrounding what one could only describe as Pandora's box, all of it came forth at once from the tired boy's lips. She followed the whole tale as closely as she could, maintaining her calm façade to not discourage him.

By the end of it all, all the mother could think to do was hold him close. What else could she do but reassure him? Let him know she was there for him at that moment and he would be safe... Provide him with some knowledge that everything would be alright.

And yet, here she was hours later, performing her tasks as fears crept along the dark corners of her mind. "Gordon... what infierno have you fallen into?" She pondered, jotting down numbers and dates from a conversation she half-listened to. It hadn't been enough that her son simply told her, she had to see the device for herself. A tangle of complicated wires and a computer that he refused to shut off, for fear it would never turn back on. And then, there were the chat logs...

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, removing her glasses. What was she going to do? What could she possibly do? Her son was going through Hell itself to find Gordon, and she could do nothing else but work. What kind of a mother was she?

"What kind indeed, miss Rivera."

Sofía felt an odd chill fill the room around her, the air growing frigid. Confused, she placed her glasses back on and gazed up, where a man stood right before her desk. He was dressed sharply, as everyone else was in the office, skin pale as a sheet, black hair peppered with white, and he held a briefcase of some kind. However, something seemed... unnatural about him, as if his features were juuust unnerving enough to make her uncomfortable.

"A long... day, isn't it, miss Rivera?"

"I..." She narrowed her eyes. "Mrs Freeman. I still have his ring, I still hold his name."

"Ah... ha ha... Of course, how... very silly of me." The man chuckled, approaching a tad closer to stare down at her. "I've heard that there was... shall we say, "trouble in paradise"?"

"¿Qué-? What do you want? I am busy!"

"Oh, not at the moment, I... assure you. See, I knew Gordon before his... untimely departure from this realm. He was... an interesting man, shall we say?"

"¡Ay! He still is! Mi hi-... My son showed me, he has proof mi amado is still alive!"

"I... do not doubt that. However, it is... important to note that retrieving him at this point is... around impossible."

"... Qu-... What do you mean? Who are you?"

"An... old acquaintance of his, miss... Mrs Freeman. I do have some rather... good news, however."

Sofía tilted her head slightly, staring at the man intently as he went on.

"I can provide you with... shall we say, a different employment? One where answers surrounding your husband will be... more accessible for you to find."

The woman's eyes widened, taking a quick glance at the rest of her co-workers, who seemed to be completely frozen in place. "...¡El diablo...!" She muttered in shock. "You come to me... offering me a deal? What do you want from me?"

Another chuckle escaped the man. "I simply wish to help. Provide you with closure and... solace. Allow you to help your brave son. Or, of course... you could always stay here and... fret over the unknown."

She sat up in her seat, thinking over his words carefully. A new job? What kind of job would bring her closer to the truth? Who was this man? How did he know her husband? Her son? How does he know her?

... What is he leaving out of this bargain? There had to be some kind of catch, but...

Even with all that plaguing her mind, the woman still found herself holding out a trembling hand to shake. "Si... I... accept."

The man grinned, placing his freezing hand into hers. "I knew you'd make... the right choice, Mrs Freeman." Her pulled her up to stand, the desk and their surroundings melting away like candlewax. "Now, I'll be the one to inform your... employers that you've found elsewhere to work."

"A-ay, where...?"

"And, while I am at it, I'll make sure to... provide you with your first task. I know you'll do just fine, Mrs Freeman."

[heartbreaknow]

The Christmas Tradition Of The Vintage Scully Fanmix

In January of 2011, I made a Dana Scully fanmix. I always struggled to find songs I felt really fit her, but I made a fanmix anyway, just for my own edification. At the time I figured I’d probably post it on my LJ when it was finished (because that’s a thing people did in 2011, posted fanmixes on their LJs). But then I guess I wasn’t happy with it, so I didn’t post it.

When Christmas of 2011 rolled around, I was wrapping presents on the floor of my childhood bedroom, and for some reason I decided to put my Scully fanmix on while I wrapped. It’s a deeply melancholy fanmix, so I’m not sure why I did it. It was probably because I loved Scully and Mulder in that bone-deep way that made them feel like family—like people you want to hold extra close to your heart during the holidays.  

So I put on my Scully fanmix, and enjoyed its deep, lingering melancholy as a soundtrack for my Christmas wrapping.

Notably, 2012 was the year I finally moved on to a new OTP, after five long years shipping almost exclusively Scully/Mulder. But when Christmas of 2012 rolled around and it came time to wrap presents—yet again on the floor of my childhood bedroom—I remembered the melancholic pleasure of listening to my Scully fanmix the previous year, and decided to make a repeat of it.

And so I have done every year since. Nine Christmases in a row I have wrapped presents and listened to my Scully fanmix (which in 2011 I titled Quite A Lovely Army, though if I were to title it now I’d probably title it something different). I never made any changes to it after that first year, even though I undoubtedly would make a ton of changes if I were to make a Scully fanmix now.

This Christmas would be the tenth year of the fanmix tradition, but this Christmas it just didn’t happen. I was organized this year; I had boxes to disguise my gifts, which allowed me to wrap them in the living room. And for some reason it just felt wrong to put on my Scully fanmix in the company of other people. So I guess this is the end of an annual tradition.

And that’s why this year I decided to post the darn thing.

It changed a bit, in that first year, as you can see by the fact that Not Only Human by Heather Nova is listed on the back cover art, but was later removed from the mix. Not sure why I removed it, to be honest. It’s a good one (and has the distinction of being used in a particular, much loved Scully fanvid from ye old days of 2004).

I was never convinced anyone would vibe with this mix but me, and after being out of the fandom for a decade, and actively forgoing S10 and S11, I’m all the more certain it is a fanmix with an audience of one. But after all these years, having finally broken the tradition, I wanted to give it a send off of some kind. And I thought, what better way to do that than to finally take the final step I neglected to take back in 2011, and post it? So here it is.

1. Hopeful Hearts by Sarah Slean 

Fiends and devils in the garden

Take their fill and leave me scarred

But I still have my secret weapon

This my brave and hopeful heart

Incidentally, this is also on my Peter Parker playlist. But a decade before that, it was one of my favorite Scully songs.          

 2. Wonderwall (instrumental) by The Vitamin String Quartet 

All the lights that lead us there are blinding, is a very X-Filesean line. I always particularly identified Wonderwall with S5 and S6. The word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out, makes me think of Mulder's doubt in S5, and his apathy and discouragement throughout most of S6.    

3. Notes From The Underground by Sarah Slean 

We're still out on the roof, howling at the moon

Exiled, another exile in the kingdom

Still out on the roof, I'm a dreamer too

Exiled, we are exiles, we two    

Mulder and Scully, the weirdos in the basement. Spooky Mulder and Mrs. Spooky—aka, the world’s leading paranatural cryptozoologist-pathologist*. Partners, first, last, and always.

*borrowing from Parabiosis by Penumbra

 4. Ordinary Life by Kristen Barry 

Heel to toe takes you from my side

In and out, every breath divides

My eyes to your head, I can't go the distance

But when you go you take me in an instant

Could be a CancerArc track, or a S8 and S9 track. Numbing pain and a sense of helplessness.

 5. Sound Of Water by Sarah Slean 

Sometimes the sword is so heavy

The pain has a ravenous mouth

In the pits of my own making

Sometimes I don't think I'll ever get out

Loosely anthemic, but it’s mostly the sound of this one that clinched it as a Scully track for me. Kind of spirited and refined at the same time.  

 6. Red Moon by David Gray 

I'm getting tired of

Being denied of

Things getting in my way

And if I'm quiet that's 'cause there's nothing left to say

Again, it’s more the sound and the emotion of this one than the lyrics specifically. Definitely post-William, though.

 7. My Invitation by Sarah Slean 

She has such an awful lot of soldiers

Quite a lovely army all her own

Night and day they stand before the fortress

Very safe but very all alone

Probably best suited to the CancerArc, particularly towards the end of S4, as things become increasingly grim.

 8. Falling Down The Mountainside by David Gray 

Without a word you set your sights into the sun

When all the world you put to rights is still so wrong

Pin your heart out on your sleeve

Spouting all that make believe

From your lips it seemed it might come true

Falling down the mountainside with you

This is the second of my two quintessential Scully tracks. I was originally going to have this be the last track, because in its own quiet way it's very comprehensive. But to end on such a fateful note, when it’s already such a sorrow-packed fanmix, felt wrong.  

 9. Kissing Song by Dawn Landes 

And it's meeting that will make them love sick

Distinctly a S7 track. This is a Scully song, to me, because it is focused on order and chaos: the unanswered phone, the unanswered knock at the door, the unacknowledged maelstrom outside. That's Scully's challenge not Mulder's—learning to embrace chaos and uncertainty in some situations.

 'Hidden' Track: No Place At All by Sarah Slean 

(One of my favorites on the mix, so of course I can’t find a link to the full song.)

Oh, look at me

Crying in my sleep

No one has to rescue me

It's plain to see

Could it be

I'm following this reverie

To nowhere and to nobody

To no place at all

The first time I heard this song I imagined Mulder and Scully conspiring together at the edge of a dance floor during some formal function they'd been ordered to attend. I imagined this song coming on, and somehow, with barely a word spoken, they end up falling into a (perfectly professional, hands-in-appropriate-places, but nonetheless achingly yearning) slow dance.

*

[frogeyedape]

I'm so tired of people who don't realize how sexist they're being when they attribute differences between men and women purely to biological differences. Feminists, too.

Like, people say the reason women are physically weaker than men is just genetic. Heads up. Muscular and skeletal strength is as much an acquired trait as a genetic one, affected by diet, exercise, and injury. Take a woman who grew up doing heavy physical labor and set her next to a man who did the same labor, and I bet you they'll both be physically strong.

Furthermore, the male/female differences so often touted are AVERAGE differences. Like, the size of the hippocampus, an area of the brain related to memory and spatial awareness, is larger in men than in women--on AVERAGE. Meaning if you take over 5000 men and women, as one brain study did, you can find average differences between men and women as groups, but looking at a brain scan (or measure of height!) alone cannot conclusively tell you if the subject is male or female.

(The study is reviewed here: http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2017/04/study-finds-some-significant-differences-brains-men-and-women and says this:

"Despite the study’s consistent sex-linked patterns, the researchers also found considerable overlap between men and women in brain volume and cortical thickness, just as you might find in height. In other words, just by looking at the brain scan, or height, of someone plucked at random from the study, researchers would be hard pressed to say whether it came from a man or woman. That suggests both sexes’ brains are far more similar than they are different.")

There's an area in the hypothalamus that's consistently been found to be 2x bigger in men than in women--but the size difference doesn't show up until *after birth*, perhaps as late as 4 years of age, indicating that the difference mag be caused by *differences in the way boys and girls are treated*.

Guys. People. Differences between the sexes are NOT 100% biological, and even genetic differences can be lessened or affected by non-genetic factors--like having a twin share your placental sac (female twins sharing a placenta with male twins are exposed to the same testosterone bath in pregnancy as the male infant, so their brains can be affected), or being exposed to sexist cultures that say boys are strong and girls are weak (thereby discouraging girls from practicing strength and discouraging boys from practicing vulnerability).

Sex. Differences. Are. Largely. Bogus.

Do NOT blame society's view of me being inadequate on my biology. Do NOT tell me I am intrinsically weak, helpless, vulnerable, nurturing, or empathetic to ANY greater extent than a man.

And men? Don't tell them they're intrinsically stronger, smarter, tougher, more commanding, better suited to leadership than women. It's bullshit, it's demeaning to our common humanity.

Men and women are more alike than we are different.

(And every other sex and gender, too! Sorry, I'm still stuck in the gender/sex binary.)

[tradcatmaria]

i'm so tired, i'm so done. i hate my parents, they always make me feel guilty for everything i have, they always try to bring me down, i just can't go on anymore, it feels like God left me. i don't know what to do. i'm helpless.

Hello!

I’m really sorry that you’re going through this. Even though it’s hard, obey your parents. Pray for them and He will hear you. God is always with you and He listens. 

I’d like to share some Bible verses with you:

“Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well pleasing to the Lord. Fathers, provoke not your children to indignation, lest they be discouraged.” (Colossians 3:20-21 DRA1899). 

“But he said: Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:28 DRA1899).

“Let no man despise thy youth: but be thou an example of the faithful in word, in conversation, in charity, in faith, in chastity” (1 Timothy 4:12 DRA1899).

“Behold I command thee, take courage, and be strong. Fear not and be not dismayed: because the Lord thy God is with thee in all things whatsoever thou shalt go to” (Joshua 1:9 DRA1899).

“Fear not, for I am with thee: turn not aside, for I am thy God: I have strengthened thee, and have helped thee, and the right hand of my just one hath upheld thee” (Isaiah 41:10 DRA1899).

I also recommend reaching out to a trusted adult, like another family member or a counselor at school. They might be able to help you work out issues with your parents. 

I’m praying for you and your parents. Keep going because God is with you.

God bless you! 

Ad Jesum per Mariam,

María de Fátima