#I am still learning and unlearning and growing every day

[luulapants]

Existential despair is so common in a person's twenties, I think, because up until that point, we've had a pretty clear road map for what's expected of us and we haven't had much reason to question that map. There are still a few milestones outlined for us (start a career, get married, make babies) but more and more young people are entering the post-school world and realizing:

A) that career thing just isn't happening like they said it would

B) I'm not ready to get married/I don't want to get married/marriage isn't the sort of life-altering event that it used to be

C) I'm not ready to make babies/I don't want a baby/I can't afford to raise children right now (see point A)

And in the absence of these milestones to shoot for (which one could argue weren't the promise of fulfillment they claimed to be in the first place), what we're left with is this aimless abyss of "the rest of our lives" sprawling out ahead of us with no indication of how it will go or what we should be doing to shape it. Young people start their first jobs, find they hate them, and think to themselves, "Is this it? Am I just supposed to do this job until I'm too old to do it or die first?"

Which is, yeah, really fucking depressing!! So here's my best attempt at an alternate roadmap for young people that don't vibe with the old model. Please feel free to add in your own suggestions!

Learn how you work and what you want out of a job. Unless you've been in a job-specific training program that gives you hands-on experience, your first jobs should be experiments. Learn how a full-time job feels for you, what elements are more or less difficult. Different workplaces have different cultures and expectations - what do you need out of a job environment? Do you need to find fulfillment in your job or is it enough for it to pay the bills and leave you time to find outside fulfillment? Do you want to climb a corporate ladder or are you content to hunker down as long as your bills get paid? This period of experimentation is exhausting and may feel like it's consuming your whole life.

Learn how to make time for things outside of work. Adapting to a full-time work environment often leaves you feeling so drained that you can't do anything but go home and collapse on the couch every day. That's fine - for a little while. But it can also become a habit. You need to learn how to do things after work or you'll go crazy. Go to a trivia night. Start an exercise schedule. Take a class in your community. Find volunteer work. Join a band. You will find that putting more things into your day makes you feel like you have more time, not less.

Find a community. Making friends as an adult can feel impossible. Where do you find these mysterious friends everyone seems to have?? This goes along with #2, though. As you start regularly attending the same activities, you will find that repeat interactions with the same people turn into friendships or at least friendly acquaintances. Say yes to invitations. Get involved in your local community. Strive to be connected enough to bump into people at the grocery store.

Unlearn bad lessons. We all internalize some messed up things when we're growing up. As you start off your adult life, that's the time to actively work at unpacking the things you've brought with you from childhood and deciding which things are helping you and which things are harming you. This might mean therapy or joining a spiritual group or reading new things or just making special time to be in your own head.

Learn the lessons you missed. In this, I mostly mean practical things. "Adulting." Areas of your day-to-day practical life that are causing you extreme stress are probably related to a knowledge or experience gap. Do you hate cooking and cleaning or were you not taught how to do it properly? Are you afraid of making medical appointments or is it just something new you're not used to? Does money make you queasy or do you need to learn how to make a budget?

Find something fulfilling. This can be your job. It can be volunteer work. It can be faith. It can be a hobby. It can be creating things. It can be challenging yourself physically. It can be activism. It can be going for walks in nature. Everyone finds fulfillment in different places. If you're not finding it where you are, look somewhere else.

[hotluncheddie]

t4t chubby autistic steddie GO

i have been thinking about this (nsfw from twitter!!) art lately so i am here with u <3

even tho i get nervous to write trans characters, idk why, i just don't wanna mess it up i think

but im doing my best!! bc autistic and gender exploration are very lovely wonderful cozy subjects so i'm gonna focus on that

this is such a string of ideas but - 4 u <3 :3c

Stevie leaves with Eddie and Robin, taking their trust fund and leaving their parents to it - too the rest of their lives - without her. Like the Harringtons always hoped, really.

Stevie doesn't need them, the money is useful but they offer nothing more to her.

She's able to buy an apartment. In Chicago. With her loves. They learn how to live. How to live together. How to be at peace.

There's big bright widows in the main space, with light and air and the sunset. The two bedrooms are cozy and warm and it's a place for them all to grow.

'There's chips here.' Eddie says. They have a matching day off and she's trying to practice what it is to do nothing, to truly rest. Eddie helps, by being there, keeping her still with his hands and his love.

But Stevie tenses up, she was snacking, has been snacking, trying to learn her hunger signals better - what they feel like to her. It was always a rule not to east in her room, not to eat between meals. But she was hungry, she had a snack.

'I'm not judging, I'm saying so we remember to take it out next time one of us goes to the kitchen.' Eddie says, coming back from changing the tape, kissing her. Kissing her and kissing her.

Stevie relaxes.

'You've gained a little weight.' Robin says, laying on Stevies thighs on the couch, crocheting while Stevie watches sports and rubs her knuckles agains her teeth, twirling a strand of Robins hair in her fingers.

She looks down at her best friend. Robin looks back at her.

Robin smiles.

'It's good. You look more like you than you ever have before.'

Stevie smiles back. Tries not to cry.

Stevie letting herself change, relax. Unlearn those eating habits that helped her feel in control. Instead allowing herself to enjoy, and eat the things she wants to, the things she likes.

Eats pasta every night for a month and doesn’t feel bad about it. Doesn’t force herself to eat kale because she hates it, spinach is good enough. She is good enough.

Eddie gets little chubbier, in this new life. After recovering from nearly dying. Explains to Stevie in his long lilting way that he likes it, feels more protected, like his skin isn’t so fragile now.

He’s never liked his body but now he truly knows how short life is, and, maybe he can learn to like this new one. In this new place, in the love that surrounds him.

Plus, the bats destroyed his chest. So without that in the way, no longer lurking and potentially ruining his day. He realises he can shed that background fixation he always seemed to have with thinness. The idea that it would make him look more masculine or more androgynous. Curves were for girls and Eddie was not. That.

But now, now, who fucking cares. He’s alive. He needs to eat.

Steve feels a finger trailing over her hip, dipping into the band of her underwear, skimming over her crack and the the ridges of stretch marks that lead up to her waist.

'So so pretty' Eddie whispers, and it's filled with so much awe, so much grace, so much reverence and love.

Stevie shivers, feeling endless and grounded and like her body is here and hers and everything she ever dreamed of because it exists now.

She puts her hand under her loose shirt, cupping her belly. Skin still sleep warm and the energy of her palm seems to cover her whole body in warmth, in light and softness. Tinging and bright. Still being traced lightly by the love of her life. But being loves by her own hands, now, too.

She exists. And finally, everything is beautiful.

[deargravity]

obsessed with hajun because he is so loveable but also deeply unlikeable. which is... literally the charm of his character. he's slightly strange and incredibly elusive and undoubtedly morally questionable but no less human. he's sharp-tongued and insensitive at times, but he's clearly trying to be gentler, and a little more aware in his manner when it's necessary. (congratulations on the cognitive empathy, hajun, i'm sure you'll put it to good use.) i like that his moment of vulnerability didn't soften him up but he's learned to be honest with the people he loves. i know hajun is very much in his senses when he does something wrong, makes someone uncomfortable / embarrassed but i also don't think he'd appreciate his actions being moralised. at the end of the day, he wants to be seen, known and understood for who he really is but he's afraid of baring himself that way. he doesn't want to be an open wound, his childhood home was not forgiving enough for him to express any kind of injury. i suppose he thinks, "if i am to be abandoned, i'd rather be abandoned like a house on fire, not a sick dog. something malicious, unsympathetic and worth remembering, if not possible to return to." he's kind of twisted like that, and it's endearing to me (unfortunately).

we don't know much about his childhood in the yeon household (he did move to japan all by himself when he was 13 - which is a whole another can of worms to unpack because can you imagine having to independently build a life at that age in a new country, learn a new language and stand on your feet after being thrown out by your family? can you blame hajun for being a razor-sharp hazard to society? his childhood was pitiless, the city was even more so, no wonder hajun's only constant companions were his isolation and the fangs he had to grow to survive.) but i'll make a reasonable inference based on dongha's experience. we see hajun as he is now, with his cold, precise anger but we also see dongha's wet, thrashing rage that hasn't realised its purpose or target yet. dongha is the closest we have to understanding the extent of the yeon's family cruelty. dongha is everything hajun would have been if he'd still been his parent's son, hajun is everything dongha could be if he leaves behind his family. which is still insane, if you think about it. and i think about it constantly.

the self-made cynic, as they say. i like that he's disarming, unsettling, insincere, insensitive, sadistic, self-serving, cunning manipulative etc. whatever people want to say about him, but i also like that he's his truest self with allen and anne, and doesn't plan on changing that. the world be damned, they are the only ones that matter because they've looked him in the eye without flinching or turning away. like... BAE are so everything...

anyways, i hope he continues to be perceived exactly as terrible as he pretends to be, and i hope the writers leave his beautiful, skewed moral compass intact because i love every single reprehensible act he commits. (for his next trick though, i hope he uncovers something to launch a billion-dollar lawsuit against yeon conglomerate and sink them into bankruptcy.) i hope he continues to cook for allen and anne, i hope he stays fiercely committed to protecting them and caring for them, because clearly everyone else is nothing and if there is one thing he has faith in, it's the family he chose for himself, the family that chose him right back.

hajun and his quiet, precise rage. hajun and the childhood he had to bury so he could evolve to survive in a bigger, crueller world. the childhood that taught him to be afraid, and the adulthood that hasn't quite unlearned it just yet, but baby steps. something about hajun and i get mean when i'm nervous like a bad dog. something about anne and allen embodying tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway, and hajun taking the risk of believing it. and taking the risk every morning until he doesn't forget. hajun and i am not brave enough to look those who love me in the eye. hajun and it's not a conscience that assures morality, it's the resolve to be a better person to people you care about.

but we can't unpack all this right now. if you suffered through all that and are still here, i hope you have a good day.

[creature-wizard]

I figured I might as well talk about my story when I was more heavily involved in the entire Law of Attraction community growing up.

So when I was younger, I was like really susceptible and shit and I think I still am but I'm getting better. Eventually, I ended up getting caught up in the entire 'make your life the way you want it' and the 'you deserve better' praxis. Not bad at first, but it eventually started getting worse with the entire issue of 'what is a negative and a positive emotion'. I have depression, some days are just bad and I struggle holding a picture positive mindset. Add onto that the entire bullying thing and I ended up becoming dependent on it because 'maybe if I just change one thing then it'll get better' and what not.

Vulnerability lead to me getting involved with a few different groups, one of them was the Lighthouse Summit, and that entire Violet Flame thing which I ended up leaving because it just didn't vibe right for me. That made me feel worse because I had all these ideas, all these concepts and it was shit trying to take them and make them work for me. You get told about mental and emotional blockages all the time, hypnosis and meditations get thrown at you and you end up trying everything in an attempt to get something to move, then there's the guilt of not being good enough, or the entire issue of maybe the Universe has it out for me.

That entire guilt and seeking out something impacted everything else. I ended up struggling with my personal religion, my identity and all that jazz, and as a queer kid who's already trying to find out who they are, that was a fun ride.

Eventually, a few years later, I realized that I was going to have to do shit myself. So, I ended up having to pick up all those broken pieces left behind because you tear yourself apart for everything in an attempt to find out what triggers those movements, those 'energetic alignments to the 4D 5D 420-69D'. It was shit, and I had to go through hell in a handbasket and that only became an issue because, as one might expect, everyone on every side is against people who try to pursue some sense of religion or another that isn't purely based in this pseudo-liberation ideal.

I had to work to try and unlearn all that stuff, or at least take it and use it as a fulcrum to get my stuff done. It was a lot, to say the least. Now, I'm here. I'm doing better, I still occasionally get the crisis of maybe I'm just a bad person, or maybe I should try and not use the 'negative' thoughts to keep moving but it's one step at a time. Anyway, you live and you learn. I guess that's why I'm so finnicky with a lot of groups.

You really do have to be careful about which groups you get into; you never know which ones are going to pull you into some incredibly nasty shit.

I'm glad you're getting better, and I wish you the best of luck in future recovery!

[pandorafallz]

Lest We Rest Upon Our Graves | C23

The Zeswa were open and catering as usual by the time Kìoetey arrived in the afternoon, Minang showing them the tent that they’d share with a few of the clan. Teylan’s space was closest to the ground and Kìoetey made sure he had an area where he could put his sky-people things that would be safe from the elements but out of the way of Zeswa culture given some of his things had metal. She’d let Ri’nela choose her place so she allowed herself to wander the Circle.

There was a low melancholy but also victory in the air still. The Zakru were ever-sleeping giants and peaceful; their breaths echoing every so often that soothed the people. A few were dance-fighting was well underway and with many spectators but she had no energy to watch or cheer.

Still, Kìoetey was glad to see the clan continuing their healing now from the losses of their battle. Days ago and still, it felt so far back…or yesterday.

“<Sarentu, I am glad to see you settling in>” Nesim’s voice echoed, drawing her attention from the fight. “<I have not seen the other two arrive yet.>”

“<They’ll be taking Anqa’s ship, they’ll be here soon.>”

Nesim nodded in acknowledgement. “<Then we shall welcome them warmly. Kìn has offered to help the young Teylan in his integration with the ways of the people.>”

“<That’s a wonderful idea.>” Kìoetey let out a sigh of relief. “<But Teylan will bring Sky people things with him. Items he knows and brings him comfort. Pulling him entirely away from that will distress him.>”

Nesim nodded. “<Minang said the same thing. Nonetheless, there is plenty of time ahead for him to part. Like a newborn Zakru, a gentle touch must be applied but also the willingness to learn on his part. It may take years for him to… grow out of those metal trinkets.>”

Kìoetey couldn’t agree more. As fierce as the Zeswa was, as Nesim was, even, they were empathetic. Perhaps Teylan’s more human-learned nature and skittishness were a sign of their pain and how they had been twisted and moulded by their captors. It would take time to unlearn and let go. Teylan would find it a hard road to walk but with them, Kim and the Zeswa, they should help.

“<Let’s hope.>”

“<Does he connect to Eywa often?>”

“<No. Only once to a Tarsyu plant a few months back>”

Nesim nodded. “<Minang will attempt his spiritual healing when he’s ready to do so. Perhaps it would be wise to relay to her his experience that time for her to understand what to expect; he needs to connect often to allow the Great Mother to aid his spirit.>”

“<I can do that. He was very weary of it. Mercer… planted fear of Eywa in him young.>”

Nesim’s tongue clicked in disgust. “<The sky people did that to all of you?>”

“<They tried. Fear of Eywa did not stick with me or Ri’nela. I was too curious to not let the root grow. Nor… is not scared of Eywa but grew to fear the judgement of our ancestors on what we became in our captivity. What the people would think of him for his upbringing.>” Kìoetey’s heart tugged as she spoke of Nor. “<I just wish he tried harder to not see it was our fault.>”

“<One day, he may come to see that. He had a lot to learn and to let go of if he is to ever thrive as a Sarentu with a healed spirit.>” Nesim said sharply, “<but that does open up the topic of concern in regards to your wandering Sarentu friend.>”

“<You’re worried about what he did to Alma?>” It was the only logical jump of conclusion with him.

“<In part, yes.>” Nesim led her way from the group, heading into the council tent. “<Most of us have come to learn of her fate and her actions that led to the Dreamwalker’s death. Many believe that he is responsible for her death entirely, not just of the Dreamwalker.”

Kìoetey’s eye twitched. “<Do you agree with that… belief?>”

Nesim crouched down softly to the bowl of embers. Her remaining eye was weighed in careful consideration. “<I do, based on one death triggered another based upon his actions, but I don’t see the weight of the secondary death as heavy as the first. The human death is more…irrelevant to my concerns.>”

Her head tilted before she too crouched to be on the same level. “<You fear he might attack someone again?>”

“<I do.>”

“<I think that’s a little unfair to judge him on that.>”

“<Nor’s actions of his rage show me his soul is much like Teylan's in how the sky people have claimed him. No whispers have told me he sought healing with the people to let go of the ways of the Sky people. It seems he did not wish to learn.>” Nesim said, “<With Blood and a death fuelled by Rage upon his hands, I must be hesitant if he was to return. I am Olo’eyktan of my people. I have to keep my people safe.>”

Kìoetey’s eyes dropped but she hated how much of a point Nesim had. “<Would… you reject him?>”

Nesim hummed, “<Not straight away; it had been some time and he may found some healing in his path. He will need to prove to both myself and Minang that he presents no danger to the clan and that his anger is safely managed.>”

She supposed that was a fair compromise; they needed to know and Nor did need to evolve beyond what the Sky people had made of him. They were going to allow him to do so. There were children around, after all. Alma had been their leader as well at the time of her avatar’s murder. A weight that Nesim must carry. But there was hope too for him. They’d not shut him out.

At least he had a better option here than at the Resistance base; they’d not allow him back so easily. Did they too share the belief that Nor had killed Alma? Did… Nor know that he had condemned Alma when he had stabbed the avatar or did he simply believe he was taking the avatar away from her with its death? Up until now, Kìoetey hadn’t considered the two deaths were possibly on Nor’s hand but… she could see it now. Kìoetey brushed off the notion of Nor’s hate going that far; he probably had no idea Alma was truly gone now and certainly couldn’t have known the avatar’s death was a cause.

That wasn’t going to be an easy conversation when she eventually saw him again. With Mercer’s death and Harding’s death, that would certainly satisfy him that he no longer had shadows of them lingering. They were gone.

They were all gone.

The only one left that had any part was Mokasa and he was exiled. Eywa only knew where he was now but it was odd to feel that… TAP was nothing but a chapter behind them with no follow-ups.

No closure either.

She supposed she’d have to see what the messages Alma left were to see on that.

“<I suppose that’s all I can ask.>” Kìoetey sighed, “<Thank you.>”

Seeing Teylan in the Circle was an immense relief when Anqa finally touched down. Ri’nela too, but Teylan looked very nervous, clutching a tablet to his chest as he followed her into the Dairy crafter’s tent where Kìn awaited them with Minang to observe for now.

“The Zakru are huge!” Teylan whispered loudly, eyeing each of the gentle giants with caution but also fascination. “What happens if they roll over? We’ll be squished, surely…”

Minang’s lip curled up but said little in regard to it

“<Teylan, this is Kìn, he helps create cheeses and other delicate for the clan>” Kìoetey introduced, offering Kìn the traditional gesture, which was echoed back.

“<I see you, young Teylan and do not worry, the Zakru do not roll when asleep.>” Kìn said with a laugh, “<They know when we are near and are gentle.>” Kìn offered them a place by the vats of milk.

Ri’nela however drifted towards Minang.

“<Go to the council tent,>” Minang said softly, “<my tsakarem is waiting for you. I will join you shortly.>”

Kìoetey made to rise; to occupy herself with the artisans but Teylan’s voice pulled her back.

“Kìoetey, can you stay?” He looked up at her nervously, “Please.”

The Sarentu eyed her friend before she nodded softly. “Okay, for a few hours.”

-

So’lek eyed the newcomers with some distance; settling to observe the Dreamwalkers as they interacted and settled with the resistance. It was odd, a weight was both added and removed since their arrival and there was no mistake some of it was in terms of Alma’s death. So’lek didn’t try to get involved with the humans on that matter but it gave him a number of a few to be cautious of based on their lack of empathy and self-entitled belief of this… karma. Still, he would still work for the resistance.

It would be quiet while they waited but with Harding’s Dreamwalker in growth without a due date, he had to be ready for the Sarentu and the clans for when she made her unwelcome appearance. For what he would do in that quiet before the storm, he didn’t know but he had to find a new purpose in that time.

The Resistance had a purpose for now and he had taken the mantle of co-leader with a purpose; to be the voice for the Resistance and to act in balance with the clans and the humans here. But he knew it was not forever. What would he do with himself? He had plenty of rosters to sort through; to find who had been a part of his clan’s demise and add their tags to his attire.

One day he would have to stop… not today.

The male Dreamwalker was not in his false skin now and walked with his mate as she remained linked in, which was not surprising with the size of her belly. He put her at six months with the size but did they have any actual supplies to handle a newborn baby not of their species? Did they know how to care for it?

The female Dreamwalker turned, accidentally catching his stare before she departed from her mate and headed his way as if he had called her over.

“Hello, So’lek. I’m glad to see you here.” She greeted him as if they knew each other. “We haven’t gotten to proper introductions before so, my name is Molly.”

So’lek eyed the Dreamwalker carefully but said nothing. Clearly, she wanted something.

Molly sighed deeply, her hand coming to her hip. “Since we’ll be staying here, I was hoping you could aid me in getting in contact with a Tsahìk to assist me when I give birth. We’ve not been allowed to observe much, or anything to aid Na’vi in childbirth. Dreamwalkers will follow Na’vi biology in birth.” She explained.

So’lek’s eyes dipped down to her pregnant belly again, noticing the visible lump of a heel that quickly vanished under the skin. “How far along are you in the pregnancy?”

“Twenty-six weeks. Mo’at believes Dreamwalkers have the same gestation period as Na’vi as well, so 36 weeks.”

That sounded about right. Na’vi was birthed from a tsalnu pod that was pushed from the mother’s womb, so had to be delivered earlier than that of a human pregnancy (which he heard was a whole month longer and the infants were still underdeveloped) since the pod at to be birthed as well with a certain circumference of fluid around the baby’s head.

Na’vi couldn’t be born like a human; the newborn’s kuru would be crushed in the vaginal canal if it did. The pod still provided warmth and a continuing gestation while the mother nourished it via her kuru until the child was developed enough for the outside world. In rare cases, a tsalnu pod could be cared for by Eywa by being placed at the root of a spiritual tree if neither parent is capable of bonding with the pod.

Ten weeks the Dreamwalker had then. Not a lot of time but… he should get that sorted easily for the sake of the child. These people needed to be educated to allow the child to thrive in childhood. If they couldn’t tend to the child, then the child would have to be removed and adopted.

“I will talk to Anufi. She is the closest Tsahìk the resistance has.”

Molly relaxed considerably. “Thank you.”

So’lek simply nodded. “Have you considered how to raise the child? How to care for it between bodies?”

“I’m not hundred percent sure but me and Daniel are going over possibilities. Pumping and storing milk, alternating sleeping locations. We’re going to see about putting a link shack out beside a tent for our Dreamwalkers for ease. One of us will always be out in our human forms at night for them.” Molly said, a little more thoughtfully.

So’lek considered it a little but it set him at more ease that they were thinking ahead. “Good.”

“Another thing, I got this for you.” From most likely her back pocket, she pulled out a tablet and held it out. “Call it a gift.”

So’lek eyed the device. “What is this?”

“When we left, a warrior came to me after she had learned you had settled in the West resistance. Tsmazì te Ftutxen Katì'ite. She claimed to have been part of your clan.”

So’lek’s eyes widened a little in alarm. He knew of Tsmazì and that she had joined the Omatikaya after the battle but he hadn’t looked into her further after he left. Only a handful of his clan survived and joined others as they weren’t able to support themselves as a clan any longer. He hadn’t wanted to be so close to the Omatikaya given how close they had been to the humans that had stayed.

“She is… well?” he asked.

“Yes. She’s been mated for seven years and has given birth to two sons, one four and the second has just turned one. She wished to pass a message to you so I offered to record it for her. It’s on here if you want to hear it.” Molly said kindly.

So’lek took the tablet from her, masking the emotion from his face despite the upkeep of his heart. She was happy, content and with the children she had so desperately wanted. He was happy for her for finding that peace. More than what he ever hoped to achieve.

Molly nodded at his silence and took her leave and she waddled away.

So’lek hurried away too after a moment once she was out of sight and down towards the office, glad for it being empty before he turned the device on and ready waiting was the recording so… with a second of hesitancy, he pressed play….

-

It was a few days before Kìoetey heard anything from the resistance but as promised, she was told when they were reburying Alma’s avatar so she took her leave from the Zeswa to aid. Ri’nela declined the offer to do which wasn’t unexpected. Teylan didn’t want to go but had plans to briefly return to help with the memorial piece for Alma (and a warning had been delivered for the humans against desecrating the memorial as Alex feared some would try and get rid of or deface Alma’s picture).

Kìoetey left that morning to help and landed in time outside to see the male Dreamwalker, Daniel with his team prepping the site. A large, Na’vi-sized body bag was spread open and ready, as was a shoebox-sized box beside the smaller graves. A few spades were set ready and the humans looked to be dressed in very sterile overalls. Even the Dreamwalker has a face mask on and long gloves.

“Here, for the smell.” A mask was offered to her as well so she took it with a nod, carefully fitting it on.

“Where are you going to bury her?” Kìoetey asked, seeing the scan Daniel had of the grave, noting the fact it was still decomposing so it wasn’t going to be pleasant. She was kinda glad she had an early and light breakfast.

“Alma mentioned in her video log to So’lek and Alex she wanted it to be buried somewhere near to the Horseshow mountain station; there’s a great view of the floating mountains above, stealth river and Whispering pond are also near and she wanted it under a tree. Norm’s scoping it out for us and…collecting a few samples of flora.”

Kìoetey gave him a look at that. “Really?”

“We’re running low on avatar supplements for an avatar in tank storage. We’re looking into alternatives to keep it alive. Best to do so while we have enough. Plus, Mo’at instructed us to keep it alive as long as possible.”

“Why is an avatar in storage?”

“It… the driver died.” Daniel said sadly, “Dr Grace Augustine. Our supplies for her won’t last forever. Her daughter visits the avatar often to feel a connection with her birth mother.”

Kìoetey’s annoyance vanished. “I see…”

It did briefly make her wonder for a second on… what would have happened if Alma died and the avatar had lived instead? Would they simply kill it and bury them together or… do what the eastern crew did; put it into storage? Kìoetey wasn’t sure… nor did she like to think about it.

“What’s the plan?” She asked, nodding to the grave site.

“We’ve taken scans to know how deep the remains are. We’ll strip the initial layers off quickly then we’ll be gentler the closer we are. We’ve found the fetal remnants but they’re almost gone but we’ll uproot the entire patch of dirt and rebury them with the big one anyone so they’re together. We’ll work quick but… given the state of decomposing, the avatar is still in active decay and… won’t be whole.”

“I understand.” She said quickly. “I won’t get in the way but I’ll observe.”

It wasn’t pleasant, as they worked and she was glad the mask was on as they got around to the retrieval of the remains. She turned her eyes away a few times but the avatar was somewhat intact given Ri’nela had bound the body before burial; curled up and thus retained shape with the packed mud and many hands helped transfer it into the bag. The tail had separated which made her almost throw up as they quickly realised and added it in. The grave was scanned for anything else before it was considered empty and filled in. The other box was filled with dirt from the baby graves before the guy found beads in the last one.

Kìoetey couldn’t help herself but steal a single bead from the box; a blue, dirt-encrusted wooden bead but she recognised them in a heartbeat. She had… noticed that Alma had gotten rid of her hair beads but never asked why. Still, the bead would make a… marker for her songcord. A bead for her death and the end of their TAP history. It was almost fitting. Stolen too, so it had some poetics.

She slipped it into her pouch for now.

The reburial plot was actually a beautiful spot, surprisingly close to where she had been looking for Alma before So’lek had pulled her away but more closer to the valley mountainside that separated the Clouded Forest from the neighbouring territories. From against the wall, you could look out across the trees and how the sunlight shone through the mist with the distant sound of running water of a stream. A large but young forest pine’s roots were exposed and excavated before the avatar was placed in raw and dirt was quick to cover before a few interested Shroud could get involved.

Kìoetey stared at the new grave with a heavy heart but… she felt more at ease by this grave now. While made by strangers, it held more dignity now. Far from the resistance’s convenience. A good spot, distant and… peaceful. She could see why Alma chose this region of the forest. Would she ever come back here? Visit the grave again or… just move on? She didn’t know.

One guy scored the tree with a large cross symbol as Alma had done with her daughter and mate’s remains. A grave marker, she supposed. Red sap did leak a little from the wounds which looked a little like blood. No one commented on that.

Nonetheless, Kìoetey let the others go with a goodbye before she sat down a few feet from the upturned soil and waited until they were all gone before she plucked out the thumb drive thoughtfully.

Alma’s last message to her. To them.

Made under a different pretext but… still. It was something. She had all of them, for her… Ri’nela, Teylan… Should she wait until she’s at the base or at the Camp? She knew Teylan may struggle with his; she’d have to discuss with him and Ri’nela when for him to watch his. Would it help him or hinder him? Would he allow them to watch first to see or… not want to watch at all?

“Sarentu?”

“Over here, So’lek,” Kìoetey called, her head turning to see the older warrior stroll through the forests but… she saw a new lightless in his shoulders, his walk less heavy and a tablet tucked under his arm. “Everything alright?”

So’lek nodded, his eyes passing over the grave for a moment then returned to her. “Yes. I was on my way to the Hollows to speak to Anufi. I got a little… detoured. I apologise for not helping with the reburial.”

“It’s okay.” Kìoetey smiled sadly, sighing deeply as she stared down at the soil again. “You seem lighter. Did something happen?”

So’lek’s hand tightened a moment on his tablet. “I received some kind words from my past that I did not expect to receive.” He didn’t elaborate, nor did she ask.

“Can I borrow the tablet? I… I want to view Alma’s last message for me.” It seemed fitting to watch it here.

So’lek nodded once, turning the tablet over to her.

She opened it up, closing the previous program and slipped the drive into the handle’s USB port and the small screen filled with files. Some were pictures, one was of a little baby, and some were scans… but she found the video logs page. A few stood out. However, her thumb hit one at random as she made to press the one with her name;

‘Hey, Alma. Give us a spin!’ A male voice spoke, the scene opening up swiftly to a SciOps Lab but mostly a desk of paperwork. The video showed the back of Alma, seated in a white lab coat and grey sweater underneath, turning a little towards the camera and giving whoever was holding it an exasperated look.

 “Put that down, I’m working.” She waved it away but the camera remained steady.

“Look, you’re carrying the first ever human going to be born on Pandora! This is for research!”

“Have you gloated you help make it?” She eyed the cameraman again more cheekily.

“You’re doing all the hard work, Doc. My job is done.”

“Ha, like hell it isn’t.” She retorted back, “You’ve already agreed to be very involved so you’re on diaper duty.” Alma raised her hand twirled her engagement ring at the camera and then she stood up from her desk though careful with how large the bump was before she rolled her eyes after a moment, giving a soft spin with a hand on the front of her belly. “Happy?”

“Very!” The camera jostled as it was lowered the tablet down, and set to rest against something before the cameraman came into focus; a dark-skinned man with short hair, a thin face but clearly a very loving spirit as his hands came to feel the bump. “Only a few weeks to go.”

Alma smiled, moving his hand to an area that was no doubt the baby’s movement. “Thank god.”

The man snorted, “That eager?”

Kìoetey hit the back button with a heavy sigh. A few weeks indeed before that little family was ripped apart. Still, one of many Mercer had a personal hand in. It was weird seeing Alma so… different. Almost free of something, despite this happening so soon after they were kidnapped. Had Alma been a different person before her family’s death or did she simply put that personal part of her aside? She wouldn’t know. Never would know really. Irrelevant now like most of what was on this drive.

Kìoetey swallowed thickly as she realised that Alma had made a message for Nor as well on the list. She hadn’t anticipated that. She had expected her, Ri’nela and Teylan but Nor? The person who had murdered her avatar? She left him a final message.

Her fingers hovered over the log for a second before she pressed it and let it fill the screen, glad for one she wasn’t alone in watching this.

The video opened to Alma in the module, early morning from the time stamp (before she had last spoken to her she noted) and looked very tired and her arm was just out of sight with an ice pack. She looked a little unfocused, blinking more but a hot cup was steaming beside her and she was twiddling the spoon up that chinked a little with her spare hand.

“So…” She started, her voice cracking before she coughed once to clear her throat then winced, her hand dropping the spoon to the back of her head sharply. “Ow.” She leant back but returned back to her log. “If… this message is being watched then it’s because I died during surgery. If you haven’t already been informed, I have a brain aneurysm that’s been growing right beside my brain stem. If that ruptures… I’m fucked.” She said, not consorting herself as she typically would but at this point, she looked too tired to care.

“I know my chances are at… 30% at best. I’m not healthy and I’m not young either. But if I don’t try to get this procedure done, then I won’t survive. That’s a certainty. I’d take probable death over certain death. I know I planned to talk to you before the procedure but… I don’t know if we came to some sort of peace between us or not. I’d like to think so. Either way, if I address anything we’ve already said, you’re gonna hear it again so… be prepared. I don’t know what future me will say or not say, depending on how well the conversion goes.

To start off… I am sorry for what I was a part of in TAP. If there is one thing from my history I do regret, it is TAP. I know it means very little now but… I do know I’ll die with that regret. There is nothing I can do right now to help and I wanted to live long enough to try. I would have spent the rest of my life trying to repent for what I was a part of. If I’m dead, then I’m sorry that I can’t be there to make up for it.”

Alma paused, taking a heavy sip from her cup. “I-I don’t know what else I can say now. I know I should have told you all sooner and… I know you questioned me about it before after the avatar’s funeral and I said it was because I didn’t want to distract you from the fight against Mercer but that’s not the truth. You knew that, Kìoetey. I… I wasn’t willing to admit to myself that I was being a coward. I was. The entire time after we brought you out of Cryo, I thought about telling you but… then I couldn’t do it. I was… I was scared of what you would say to me… do to me if you knew. I pictured a lot happening. I knew you’d hate me and the others as well, that everyone would hate me as well, even the ones I spent the last 16 years with; they’d see me differently. I know what I did was far different from the weight they pulled for the RDA before they defected. I wanted…” she paused for a moment, “I wanted to pretend that everything was okay. That we could be and stay a happy family. I wanted that. I was fooling myself really. I’m sorry I caught you in the middle of that lost fantasy. I wasn’t fair to you. Any of you.”

Alma swallowed thickly into the mug, groaning a little as her hand returned to her head before she breathed through what pain she was clearly in. “I hope tonight I can sleep peacefully. No more jackhammers.” She muttered to herself. It took a few moments before Alma concentrated enough to continue. “I’m sorry…this isn’t going as I planned. I.. there’s a lot I want to say but things... things are getting jumbled in my head now.”

She leaned forward again, dropping her head back to grasp her mug and then squinted off to the side at the second monitor screen then shifted the camera to a little. “I don’t… I don’t expect forgiveness for what I was a part of. I know I didn’t tell you before but… in all honesty, I was scared of how you’d react if I told you of my condition. I…I thought I knew you. But then Nor stabbed me… and with you and my other avatars and… I was scared that you might be happy to learn of my impending death. I know it’s not the right thing to do and wait until the last second to say anything. I know there are a few humans out there in the resistance willing to cheer my death on from the sides and I don’t want to know who they are.

If my death happened in surgery, I’d already put a place for them to bury me in my message to Alex and So’lek. Close to my family but far enough from the Resistance. If I’m lucky, my avatar might be moved to be close or buried beside me. I’d like that at the very least. No more desecration.” She chuckled bitterly. “I’m sorry for judging you on my assumptions and possibilities. You’ve grown so much these last couple of months and… I’ve not known myself for a while. Maybe I was never meant to survive” She tapered off a little, distracted before she closed her eyes with a shallow breath.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling now.” Alma opened her eyes again, “I am dead. My story is over. I hope that you and your clan heal well from what we did to you. But know that… I am proud of you. All of you to overcome and grow into the Na’vi you truly are. You deserve so much more and I hope one day the Sarentu will wander Pandora again. Aha’ri will be proud to see how far you’ve come.”

Alma stared into the camera, weighted but content with its burden. Blood seemed to seep from her nose but she didn’t quite realise.

“Goodbye, Kìoetey.”

She reached off towards the camera before it froze on the last frame and stopped.

Silence fell between and rang loudly before she pulled the drive out and handed the tablet back to So’lek. His hand came to her shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“A little all over the place…” Kìoetey remarked, “But… I suppose that’s not surprising with her condition and the pain she was in. I can’t believe sometimes that I missed seeing the signs when I last saw her. I see the sickness in her face.”

“You couldn’t have known, Sarentu.”

“I know.”

Which was one of the few things that held the guilt from her last interaction with her away. She couldn’t have known that was the last time she would have seen her. Still, she felt a little more at ease now, even if the log wasn’t perfect. Alma was gone, the avatar was properly buried and now, it felt that the strings her death frayed weren’t so severed to hurt.

She would move on.

Still, she allowed herself to stay seated beside the grave for now even as So’lek rose and offered a hand up but she declined it.

“A few more minutes.” She asked.

So’lek nodded once and left her alone.

Kìoetey stared at the soil for a moment, allowing herself to find the words to speak.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Alma. It would have been… enough to see you try and put the effort in for us. I know, despite your death, it’s not enough for me to forgive you. Not yet, at least. You caused so much pain but… I would not have wished death or harm on you either. What point is there to do so when it would provide nothing to what is left of us? Pain and death is no redemption or payment towards it.” She whispered, “You’re gone now. I don’t know where you’ve gone now or where your spirit went. I want to believe Eywa but… that’s not possible. But I hope that where you truly fell is where you wanted to be. We’ll be fine and we’ll heal from everything. One day the Sarentu will grow and return in full. It may take decades but… now we have all the time in the world in front of us to allow that. It may take the others longer to find peace but I know I am walking that path. Maybe I’ll return here to visit you. Maybe not.” She sighed deeply. “I’ll see what comes of my future. So… Goodbye, Alma, may your spirit rest in peace.”

Masterlist

[bookishjules]

Hi Jules,

Saw your post about RWBY. I have seen up through V8. PLEASE tell me all your hot takes. (If they’re anything like your sohae analyses then they’re going to be immaculate). <3

omg welcome to the list of followers i know watch rwby!! (it's a small list, but it's also one of my favorites hehe) idk that i have any esp hot takes?? but i'd love to talk about something that's been on my mind a lot recently..?

that thing is the schnee family... i personally am a huge sucker for the mechanics and evolution of family dynamics and how each individual functions within and outside of it. and aside from the belladonnas, whose family web has a third of individual relationships as the schnees, weiss's family is really the only one we get the privy of seeing in totality?? which i think is really interesting considering they are also the most public family of any of our mcs--even pyrrha, who was more known for her own name than her family's.. but i digress.

so much of the character of the schnee family really is based around that public persona, the facade they each present to the world. while we aren't very familiar with the former heads of the family, or of the sdc, i'm still inclined to believe a lot of this attitude was brought to the family by jacques, who has been acting since day one. he acted like he was in love. he donned the schnee name. he dyed his hair white. he swept willow aside, took her family's legacy from her, and then spent the rest of his life pretending like he deserved to be where he was and manipulating people into playing along. and of course behind every facade is something worth hiding. for jacques i think there was a lot of insecurity and fear there--youthful desperation that he was never quite able to move past because of his choice to take the cheater's way to the top.

willow, on the other hand, seems to move through life with a lot more vulnerability--loving jacques. loving their children. i'm sure there's probably an amount of safety and security growing up as a schnee heiress that resulted in her never having to form that shell that jacques did, but that's exactly why he was able to get into the power position in their relationship, and making it so she just gave up when jacques showed his cards to her, bc she didn't have anything up her sleeves.

and i think its really interesting to consider the kids growing up in this climate.. each of them learning in their own ways what parts of themselves to control and diminish vs. which strengths were valuable to play to. even with both winter and weiss stepping out from their father's control, the effects of their upbringing still follows them. they saw the powerless position their mom was reduced to because she didn't demand respect the way their father did, she didn't walk into a room with the air of the most important person in it, at least not within the confines of their family--because why would she? meanwhile, jacques, who viewed their relationship as nothing more than a stepping stool, a business transaction, would have maintained that facade and that attitude no matter how intimate the setting. and of course both girls would notice and internalize that at a young age. we see it in weiss, especially during the beacon arc. and even winter's choice to become a soldier, and then her ability to move herself up to the top of ironwood's ranks... they wanted to escape the pressure of their father's thumb, but they just carried his lessons with them, adapting them to their own lives. school and the army. and then that's something they need to unlearn. or rather.. they need to learn to tap into the heart they inherited from their mom as well, to fight against the fear of weakness and collapse that they associate with softness. it's in much of weiss's arc throughout the series, and we see it in winter as well as we reach the end of the 8th volume and she's struggling between her personal beliefs and ironwood's as he continues to devolve. without the rules and control that ironwood brought, winter is then forced to tap into her heart.

whitley on the other hand... whitley fascinates me. since he was younger than both his sisters, he would have had less time to see their mom as her genuine self before she lost herself to depression, paranoia, and alcoholism. for whitley, the only option was to be like his father, which only makes it harder for him to see the distinction between who he is and the controlled front he presents to others. his relationship with weiss, his small bits of character development we've seen so far, are so important to me, because it really shows the possibility for all three of these kids to grow beyond the trauma that perpetuated within the walls of their icy mansion. even down to the one who suffered the worst of it all by himself. willow once told weiss not to forget about her brother, so i refuse to stop projecting hope in his direction.

[vulturevanity]

The thing is even if you learn an artistic skill through mimicking your favourite guys, you still end up absorbing some of the fundamentals in the process without meaning to, because your favourite guys use them. You learn a little visual composition and posing when you draw characters in the "imagine your faves" memes, you learn a teeny bit of colour theory when you colour pick from that painting that made you eat gravel with how good it is. You learn something of harmonic relations when you learn to play your favourite rock tunes on the guitar. You literally learn how to write by reading.

What the fundamentals are good for is organizing these lessons. Giving you a vocabulary for naming the things you like or want to do well, or to pinpoint why something you're trying does or doesn't feel right. It's really frustrating when you're feeling your way through an original piece and get stuck because it's off, you know it's off, but you don't know how to fix it. And the best part about having bruteforced your way into being kinda good at art is that the fundamentals are going to be SO MUCH EASIER to absorb now that you have the muscle memory for it. And you will feel yourself getting better faster when you actually study. And of course being your own teacher might have given you one or two bad habits, but those take much less effort to unlearn.

So yeah I am in favour of "how to draw anime" tutorials because they genuinely help while being fun. I am all for using tabs to learn guitar solos. I'm for writing crossover fanfic that is just adding a self-insert to the canon and not changing anything else. These are all ways in which you absorb information and exercise those skills in low stakes environments. It's a much lower entry barrier than practicing anatomy for two hours every day, or studying language theory and structure in 19th century prose, or whatever the hell music theory is about. And if your skill grows beyond what those things can help you with, formal knowledge is within reach and you will have developed a sense for things, so it will feel less dense.

Learn in whatever way you feel suits you best. And then keep learning.

[aarid]

bitching about the queer community a little from the perspective of a trans man based on the last thing i reblogged but

GOD that really is it isn’t it, that’s how goddamn isolating this community feels some days. on top of the movement to praise women (please keep doing this btw, we win together or not at all) wrapping around into actively double-standard-misgendering people (’girlies/girl help/etc’ being seen as gender-neutral and almost exclusively coming from...not men, but also those same people yell at you if “dude” or “bro” is gender-neutral in your personal lexicon) or just flat-out discouraging people from being positive toward men (this is TERF rhetoric please clear your mental cache every once in a while), we’re locked out from the solidarity we built up with women before we ever came out. we go from someone who Knows (tm) to The Enemy (tm) the moment we swap pronouns, and it’s heartbreaking. this is EXTREMELY prominent for older trans men. so many of us didn’t know for so long. i was 25. i’m 31 now. i’ve only spent 20% of my life knowing who i am and living as a man, and i was raised in a very queer-positive environment and was out to EVERYONE within a week of realizing i was trans. people who find out in their mid twenties or later have already had their literal entire childhood shaped by misogyny, especially those who were NOT raised in queer-friendly environments. and then we’re out, and we’re shoehorned in next to cis men that don’t accept us until we’re so transitioned we can be stealth, and are told there’s no way we understand what women go through, like i don’t still bleed, like i don’t have tits, like i wouldn’t fucking get it in the deepest center of my bones even if i were post-op because i lived it for a quarter of a fucking century. and this goes both goddamn ways. trans women are women and can still be misogynistic as FUCK because they were raised in the box that perpetuates that and society treated them differently growing up. stop with the "man-hating feminist” bullshit, stop with the “trans men can’t understand misogyny the way women understand it,” stop with the “trans women can’t be wrong about women’s struggles” shit. we are human beings. the parts we were born with may not value us one way or another intrinsically, but every one of us grew up in a societal norm that we have to unlearn and pick apart because of the circumstances of our birth. that’s part of the world we currently live in and until we DO pick it apart and learn to be better, it is not going to change. and be a little goddamn nicer to trans men, fuck’s sake.

[stocky2016]

"Happy Birthday to Me!"

As I'm growing older, I'm getting a little more wise

seeing life more clearly, though with somewhat tiring eyes

Often i think back to times I was so much younger and green

but now look ahead to the future, and dreams maybe as yet unseen

1949 I arrived in this world, like some innocent dove,

enjoying every moment, feeling the generosity of childhood love,

but with a head full of dreams, and desires of my own,

life gave me my own family, I then never really felt, seriously alone.

Life's been full of adventures , both good and bad

relationships I've experienced, different careers progressed,

I stand here today with both faith and hopes in my hand

reminding myself of the good times, they will never disband

Out there's still a world of distinct possibility

there's nothing we can't do, limited only by infinity,

The future's bright, and with creative hope still in my soul

never wasting the days I wake up to, but actioning my new goals.

I'm so filled with gratitude for all the good friends I've known ,

Who've helped me enjoy life, supported and helped me remain strong

Sometimes it's hard, but every new day's a new blessing

I carry with me the joy, of its daily addressing

I've always tried to achieve my best, and never give in,

the spirit remains strong and bold, life helps rejuvenate again

Tougher times through the years, maybe tempted me to sink

but somehow I still found the courage to step back from the brink.

If I turned the clock back, would it really be that great?

noting all the salutary lessons that in life satiate,

No turning back now, the pages have already been turned

though if maybe I could, i'd discover a better future, unlearned

Aging creeps up on me though , with other lessons still to learn

I try to keep my head held high, with the acquired wisdom to discern.

But I'm staying true to who I am, deep down within...

always willing to write poetry and the excuse of a new page to begin.

Wiser with age, knowledge comes with each, hesitant step

from fading memories to wisdom, I must never forget

Past laughter and tears, the ups and the downs,

i'm wiser with age, as my life slowly starts to wind down.

Still rockin' it though, at 74 that's maybe surprising too,

life's thrown a few curve balls yet I've stayed true.

Happy Birthday to me, the years weren't that unkind

74 today, i have to be grateful, I'm still around and alive.

G.P.S. 10th December 2023

Graphic courtesy of Google images and Personally Owned.

[mariellewritesalot]

14 Going on 24: To All the Girls I've Been Before

Sometimes I still feel like a teenager in my twenties.

Except not really, because I turn 24 in a few days and I find myself in a small town in Sevilla, Spain with my own apartment just a 6-minute walk from the high school I'll be working in for a school year. I'm doing adult things, like going to the local bakery to order a cake for myself and two boxes of pastries to share with the faculty, paying my own bills, cooking all my meals, booking train tickets for the holidays, and reserving a table at a restaurant in full Spanish without panic. My real teenage self had different dreams fed to her by the innate trophy-daughter urge to please her parents: go to law school, find a nice Catholic boy to marry, and stay in the Philippines forever.

You might have seen it on social media, the teenage girl in her twenties meme. It's a revival of everything we've ever loved growing up as girls together. It's a nice thing, this reclamation of girlhood. An attempt to somehow heal our inner children and reminisce on the times when we were only imagining what it would be like to be an adult. The mythical womanhood. A real 13 going on 30 dilemma. I wish we weren't in such a rush to grow up, but that's the irony of it all. As a grown woman, I often wonder about the girl I was, because despite all this I know I will never be her again.

She was ambitious, naive, too nice, but also a little arrogant it intimidated a lot of people with whom she could have been really good friends. I try to think fondly of the girl I was, and I honor her by preserving some of her interests that will never really go away, even now. I remember every young adult series I was ever obsessed with, alongside the sitcoms with each season I had saved on my netbook. I used to make physical mix CDs and now I curate Spotify playlists. I still get a little excited when a One Direction song plays out of the blue. I hear an indie song from years ago, like now as I type this while Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephant is playing, and wish I could hear it for the first time again. I see old Facebook posts made by teenage me and chuckle at her drama. I unironically consume the Twilight Saga media when I feel a little sad, no matter how cringy people make it out to be. I love pink, books, letters, and stickers. I know every High School Musical song by heart. I have a weirdly specific knowledge of R&B and Hip-hop songs inherited from my brothers. I pray the same prayer at night, the one taught by my parents when I still shared a bedroom with them until I was fifteen.

A little confession: sometimes, despite loving the fact that I am wildly independent, I still miss having my mother around; even if it means having the occasional petty fights. Along with the tiny resentments of never fully living up to the image in her head, failing some of the dreams she also had as a girl, and rejecting the projection. I'm the most stubborn person I know, but sometimes I wish I could crawl under her table at her old office as I did so many times before, and cry before taking that nap I so vehemently refused but always took.

I look at old photos of myself as a teen and wish I was kinder to that girl, so I could unlearn the mean things I think about myself on occasion. One night on a casual doomscroll on Twitter, I read something along the lines of us seeing different versions of ourselves over the years and yearning for those times, how we never fully appreciate the current version until they become another face in a photo from years ago. A memory you didn't know you'd create.

I think about the people I had in my life then: friends, mentors, crushes, classmates, crappy boyfriends (ugh), and want to forgive her for the poor life decisions. She was forgiving to a fault after all, but she still makes me so proud when I remember how she learned her boundaries and stuck with them in the most crucial moments. The ones who were meant to stay are still with me to this day, the others who left have also left their mark on this version of me now, in some way. Some people have already arrived and others I'm looking forward to meeting soon. The growing pains feel especially potent as I continue to learn that change is constant and that sometimes who or what I want isn't necessarily good for me. The universe makes it known too often; I have to learn it by heart at some point.

Ultimately, I'd like to think she'd be so proud of me. Maybe, I turned out better than she hoped. I could also be such a stranger to her, a disappointment; her preparation for the real world. I still have a lot of work to do before I'm the adult she would have trusted and aspired to be, but knowing I'm on that path makes me confident that I can handle my problems like a grown-up. Being in my early twenties is to straddle the line between too young and too old, wanting to always do the mature thing, but sometimes still feeling like I'm a kid playing the role of someone who has it together. I don't. I don't think anyone does, really, not even older adults I know with much more interesting stories and problems. I try not to control everything and let things be because sometimes it's the only thing to do. Plans do fail, but somehow, things always work out for the better.

When I think of that transition from being just a girl to an adult with actual consequences, I remember Rory Gilmore crying in front of her grandfather at the end of Gilmore girls season 5; when she realized that she was no longer the golden child she was, but a young adult that might not be good enough for all of her aspirations.

I think about such tender moments of my girlhood, all the times I was teased for being chubby or having curly, unruly hair that earned me nicknames like Lion King or Hagrid. The first time I ever wore eyeliner to a family Christmas party, an uncle commented with such disdain, thinking I was doing it for attention. I'm weirdly familiar with terms like "malandi" or its English variations, even when I was just being friendly. In my first high school relationship, people gossiped about how my then-boyfriend was only with me so he could get higher grades, not for my looks. I know how they talked about a relationship they knew nothing about, completely overlooking how much I was hurt by this boy they adored just because he played some sport. I remember being a teenager, learning what it means to be attracted to another person romantically, and having a relative tell my mom, "Marielle's so into boys, ano?" even when I was single at the time and didn't really care for anything but starting college. There were weird older men who were creeps, and yet somehow I was made out to be some kind of a mastermind that lured them in. I was just a girl.

The beauty and innocence of girlhood are also marred by these moments of misogyny, sadly looking like a rite of passage every girl I know has gone through--one way or another.

At 16, all the pain I felt then felt like the rest of my life. A few days shy of 24, I realize that some pains are just too great that they will always stay, faintly, but life is so ridiculously unpredictable that there is no way we'll live on without incredible moments to show for it.

I look back on the year I just had in disbelief because so much has happened, most of them completely unexpected while others were dreams I worked hard to make my reality. I finished my undergraduate thesis on Filipino food and restaurants in the Filipino-American diaspora and graduated Magna Cum Laude from UP Diliman. I was in love with someone who I thought fit me so perfectly and felt the full aftermath of that heartbreak, lamented the impossibility of long-distance relationships, and believed I'd never do better; only to discover more about myself in the next few months and move on to a more beautiful love I never thought possible. I got into the 61st Silliman University National Writers Workshop, on my first (and could have been last, because I didn't know then when I'd be back in the PH) try, and spent two magical weeks in Dumaguete learning more about writing with the most amazing group of writers I now consider another chosen family.

I also outgrew some close friends. I had to process this unworldly form of devastation by going through all the stages of grief a million times over. I've reflected on what I can do better to nurture my relationships, and grown more appreciative of the unconditional friendships I have that continue to withstand time. I kept learning Spanish for two years and moved to Spain to explore more opportunities. It's been one of the most interesting years of my life so far, the emotions rising and falling like waves that sometimes consumed me whole. I've been through so much in year 23 that I'm both thrilled and horrified for the big 24, a year away from my expected quarter-life crisis.

I've always loved birthdays, by the way, and maybe I'll move on from it the older I get. I always look forward to the sweet messages and spending time with my friends and family. I like welcoming another year as an opportunity for me to try and do better. For this year, though, I don't have solid plans. It's on a Monday and I have classes to teach until 2:30pm. I reserved a cake with flowers all around it and a dedication written in Spanish, something the lady at the bakery wrote for me. I might take a few pictures with my film camera, invite some work colleagues for drinks, and cook Filipino spaghetti the way my mom does it. Maybe I'll call her, think of the ending to the movie, Lady Bird (2017). I could take the bus to the city center or enjoy a nice dinner alone with my Kindle. I might take calls from my friends and cry over their messages, miss everyone a little deeper.

I'll never be the girl I was, but she's still inside me somewhere. There's comfort in the growth. How to Say Goodbye by Paul Tiernan is playing through my laptop speakers. Someday, I'll look back to this time and remember what it felt like to anticipate my 24th birthday in Spain: a little lonely, slightly thrilling, and inevitably different.

I'll be changed, but not really--and it will be okay.

[sawwyouuinadream]

This is with reference to a debate that turned into an ugly screaming session with my mother over the topic of “portrayal of intimacy in media”. 

I think portraying queer intimacy, and not just sex, in any kind of media is fifty times more important than portraying heterosexual intimacy. Because we live in a society that discriminates. Discrimination is weaved into us from inception. You’re not a being in a vacuum devoid of any indoctrination and privileges. And art is a platform that levels the field in its own little way.  

As queer people we discover ourselves every day in a way we didn’t know was possible before. You grow up looking at your grandparents and parents being either too affectionate, or absolutely not. But there’s a certain level of palpable intimacy in them sleeping on the same bed. Asking each other what they want to have at a restaurant. Buying gifts for each other during festivities. It gets so normalized into your version of romance that you never blink twice before realizing that this is what couples do. So, when you’re about to step in those shoes you know exactly what gesture is couple-like and what’s platonic.  

Queer people simply don’t have it. 

I remember an interview of Ocean Vuong talking about depicting sex in his writing, and he said something beautiful. “. queer bodies...we have to fail into pleasure, and this failure… builds into self-knowledge”.  

I remember my first relationship with a guy, a few months younger than me. He was beautiful, he still is. But from the get-go I never felt like the experience belonged to me as much as it did to him. Every touch, the longing, the asking. He was the initiator. Whether I wanted him to or not. He simply did something that felt right to him.  And I followed. Because I hadn’t known otherwise. 

Now, some years later, I am a huge proponent of breaking the status quo even in heterosexual intimacy. But it just doesn’t come to us naturally. You unlearn everything that you absorbed as a kid and that unboxing itself is learning. 

Queer intimacy is exploratory as it is audacious. You don’t know at what point this person stops taking on all the other roles assigned to them by society and starts being yours. The beautiful boy was yours from the get-go. But the pretty girl never is. She’s the friend.  Or the older sister. Or someone’s daughter. Or nobody at all. But never yours. 

And when there are no roles assigned you build a blanket fort of your humor, and you just have fun scrambling yourself on the sheets. Laughing. You ask them with your own eyes, and nobody feels like they’re losing a race.  

The birds and the bees. Queer people don’t know what they’re doing. And that uncertainty is never portrayed by the media.  

With queer intimacy being more normalized in the visual and written medium, they will be less unsure. Like they’re not doing something wrong. Like looking at a girl with longing in your eyes isn’t vile. That holding her hand in McDonald's and wiping some milkshake off the corner of her lips isn’t scandalous. You don’t have to play tonsil hockey at the red lights to be intimate. Intimacy is in language and longing, and I want that to be reflected in the media more. 

[risingfire17-the-weeb-trash]

40 Day Anime Challenge Day 40- Anime that changed you the most: Fruits Basket (2001)

See Day 28 for synopsis.

Long personal story rant incoming!

TL;DR: I learned how to people by watching Fruits Basket and it didn't go well.

So, I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, and the time I finally started socializing with peers coincided with the time I got really heavy into anime and manga, which was my junior and senior years of high school. A side effect of this combination was that I learned a lot about friendships (and relationships but that's a whole other problem for a different post) from the medium.

Fruits Basket was one of my first and favorite manga series, so it had a huge role on my social development. I got it in my head that it was only the "selfless" doormat codependent girls who have true friendship and love, so I basically spent ages 16-25 trying to be Tohru Honda. I also thought that it was normal in friendships to have like no boundaries, be obsessively protective, and spy on your friends' dates and stuff like that. *God I'm cringing so hard as I type this I was so young and dumb omg* So, as you can expect, that didn't lead to me having any healthy relationships in my life. I put off good people without understanding why (now I know they were disturbed by my lack of boundaries) and I attracted the most selfish, narcissistic, dysfunctional, toxic, and abusive people, the people who love to take advantage of people like Tohru, into my life. And I didn't have any angsty, delinquent with a heart of gold like Kyo or super strong or superpowered, overprotective friends like Uotani and Hanajima to scare them off.

It took half a decade of therapy, a 12 step program, and a religious phase (emphasis on phase) for me to unlearn all the toxic behaviors I learned trying to be Tohru, and to learn appropriate alternatives. And in the beginning, it was so hard like I had a full on identity crisis like if I'm not the "selfless" person than who am I??? I even put off grad school for 5 years (I was finishing my BA in psych at the time) because I wasn't sure if being a therapist was what I really wanted or if that was just be trying to be "selfless" again. And after 5 years of soul-searching (and tons of therapy) I'm filling out my grad school applications for next year!!! I think after the childhood I had on top of almost a decade of social skills learned from anime, I needed to take some time off for a recovery arc and I think my journey will make me a better therapist, so I have no regrets!

Now, spewing my whole life story is NOT in any way a criticism of Fruits Basket. I'm basically a case study of what happens when you have negligent parents, no close relationships, and you need to learn how to people by watching TV. Because healthy relationships don't sell in any medium, people want the angst and the drama, but I didn't have parents that talked to me about the differences between fiction and reality, nor healthy friendships to compare with what I was learning on TV. There are plenty of healthy, well-adjusted people who watch Fruits Basket and love it and remain healthy and well-adjusted. My horrible life choices are totally on me; I would have picked up some problematic social behavior from some TV show, and Fruits Basket just happened to be the one.

That being said, I still LOVE Fruits Basket!!!! (especially after the 2019 reboot OMG it was so good!!!!!) It's my wish fulfillment fantasy where everyone is inherently good underneath their rough exterior, and kindness is rewarded with love every time. But, now I have real, healthy, not all-consuming relationships with real people, and I wouldn't trade them for any fantasy angsty relationship ever!

[transboysokka]

Casually admitting to Islamophobia in my dash? Classy.

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god please be joking

i am gonna respond to this either way bc who fucking knows on this website

i know you’re referring to this post and i am once again asking you to use basic reading comprehension skills

Or if you can’t do that, then imagine

You are six years old and have lived your whole life in a white suburban ultra-Christian ultra-conservative area

You can’t think for yourself because you’re SIX YEARS OLD and also fucking autistic as hell like not even able to function independently so you just. Absorb the opinions of everyone around you, especially people you respect like family members

9/11 happens. You watch the footage of people dying again and again and again for days and nobody ever talks to you about it???

You’re constantly surrounded by people who blame an entire group of people who had nothing to do with it and justify war for no real reason but YOURE SIX YEARS OLD so it must be true

Also everything is so fucking sensationalized in the media and imperialism and Islamophobia is EVERYWHERE including school where you have to watch Baghdad being bombed live when you are 8 because “we are heroes” ????

This just becomes truth and reality at that point

You’re still scared as fuck every time you see anyone visibly Muslim because you’ve been taught that they all kill people

Anyway when you’re 11 you start to get your own thoughts like “I think maybe this war is actually fucked up but I don’t have the knowledge or the resources to articulate why I think that?”

It turns out a kid you’ve known actually most of your life is Muslim. And he doesn’t even “look” like it? And… he’s not dangerous?? So at 11 years old when yOURE FINALLY DEVELOPMENTALLY ABLE TO FORM YOUR OWN OPINIONS you start slowly unlearning all that shit you were taught

So I mean, yeah were those thoughts privileged and fucked up? YEAH. No excuses there. And for what it’s worth I’m sorry that I used to think that way. But I think someone who sends a message like this really fails to grasp

How fucked up and imperialistic and hypernationalistic shit was for a while there (I mean did it ever end? Lol debatable but it’s at least a different kind now)

That kids DEVELOPMENTALLY don’t have the BRAIN CAPACITY to form their own opinions about stuff like that?? Like what was I gonna do, read into it in an era when it wasn’t even normal to have a computer with internet??? Fucking dumbass

The reality of how echo chambers and brainwashing still are today. Like. Having information IS a privilege and if you live in a world where EVERYTHING screams one thing at you, it’s really hard to break out of that shit

Like Jesus Christ, cancel me if you want, I’ve been unlearning shit my whole life. I got over my homophobia in a similar way to this in middle school, transphobia in high school, fucking white supremacy in college. I JUST in the last couple months started reprogramming myself from evangelical Christianity lmao like.

People are always learning and evolving and that’s why I fucking HATE this cancel culture or dragging shit up from when someone was an actual child… like hey we are all shitty people who think and do shitty things. What’s important is that we try to get better and grow and are able to move on while apologizing to the people we’ve hurt, and show a REAL desire to change for the better

[bread-tab]

I think you really werent an internet savvy smart zillennial

i mean, "internet-savvy" is certainly debatable lol. i meant it in the sense of, i knew how to use technology/the internet growing up. i knew how to google things. i could look stuff up if i knew it existed, even just vaguely

that's the thing though... knowing it existed. realizing it mattered. and you could also say "internet-savvy" involves being integrated with the culture of the internet, which. eh. *hand waggle gesture* i was a homeschooled conservative christian kid with undiagnosed autism and adhd (+ also queer and had no idea). even when i left that environment, somehow i struggled to socialize with my peers! (still processing the trauma ✌️)

—and yeah that included online. so you're right, on that measure, i was often internet-unsavvy and kinda dense. :P

there is a huge christian-centric side of the internet, where the associated conservative politics is normalized. people can spend years there and think it's the normal internet. it's smaller than the normal internet, and the whole internet is getting smaller these days, but i'm certain it's still big enough that you can get trapped in its echo chamber all too easily. i was on forums where people got banned for starting discourse, but not for saying they seriously thought Obama was probably the antichrist (circa 2008). (that was an outlier in terms of unhinged takes, but it was also the background noise of politics there; the fundies had a seat at the table.)

so many people are born and raised and brainwashed in extreme ignorance. including vulnerable and marginalized people. (sometimes they are intentionally targeted.) it is easy to be radicalized. it is easy to be abused and manipulated. it is extraordinarily difficult to escape those things.

there are droves of young adults getting out on their own (at college or otherwise) and starting to unlearn this shit for the first time. there are people of every age rebelling for the first time against the prejudices of the dominant culture for whatever reason. people make moves toward deradicalizing themselves all the time.

i'm not saying i'm speaking from a place of fucking moral purity here. i still have a lot of work to do personally. but i only talk about myself in this context as an example of a wider problem. i went off on the other post a bit (to my increasing regret) because i am so tired of seeing that learning process derailed by people from liberal/left-leaning backgrounds performing their own shock and disgust that ignorance can even exist, or focusing on shaming people for being ignorant in the first place. i am interested in healing the culture, deradicalizing individuals, and fighting the machine—not bullying its victims.

[winderlylandchime]

ugh, feelings. you ever feel like you’re failing according to a rubric you never wanted to be graded on?

so. when i was 15 i went on an international trip sponsored by a summer camp i had attended the year before. most kids had been going to this camp since they were old enough so i was definitely an outsider. these international trips were meant to be a gap year type thing before campers were old enough to be a counselor-in-training. a whole group of friends wanted to go to the destination i was going to and one of them didn’t get to go and the others in the group blamed me for taking her spot. anyway i loved traveling to our destination and the experiences i got to have but it was one of the hardest social experiences of my life. at age 15 i was four years into my struggle with trichotillomania (hairpulling disorder) and had no eyebrows and weird hair as a result. i was also deep into my first fandom and totally hyperfixated on it. *and* i had not yet learned how to mask those parts of myself that are odd and weird when around people incapable of loving me in my entirety.

needless to say, i was an outcast that entire summer. while across the globe from my home, my parents, and my friends. it really fucking sucked. i was also an outcast in school (except for my little group of friends) so maybe i shouldn’t have been surprised but i kind of hoped that i would be surrounded by people who would truly accept me. i wasn’t. i am still working to unlearn the toxic messages about myself and my worth that i was given by my peers, on this trip and in school, as a teen.

last year i got an email from the man who led this trip (to be very very fair he was only 24 at the time so i don’t totally blame him for the group dynamics that had such a lasting negative impact on me) and i was invited to join their annual (?) reunion “celebrating” 26 years since this trip. i wasn’t going to attend but i asked my spouse and some close friends and they said that i should attend and see what it’s like, that maybe these people are no longer the awful people they were as teens and it could be healing to see that. so i attended. it was an hour of my time on zoom and i could close out if i needed to.

i didn’t need to. everyone was… fine. most of them still live on the east coast. and they are all quite successful. they own their own homes (one of them is looking into getting a second home), they all have at least one kid, they’re all in (presumably) straight marriages. good for them. truly, no sarcasm meant at all.

it’s just that according to that rubric? i am failing. i was the weird kid who is not successful as an adult. it feels like shit.

according to my rubric? i’m a fucking success. and i think that’s what my spouse and my friends are looking at when they told me to attend.

i -

am in an incredible marriage with my long-time partner. we had to face obstacles to get where we are including a previous marriage (mine), a jealous ex (theirs), prop 8/doma, mental health struggles, chronic pain, addiction, and a fucking pandemic. our relationship is better than it has ever been

have nieces via my sisters-in-law and nephews via my oldest friend and other friends’ kids who all bring a ton of joy into my life

have two dogs and two cats whom i love and adore and make me smile every single day

have a job that i am so incredibly proud of. when i started graduate school, the job i have now was my goal and i fucking achieved it. not only that but

i am continuing to grow within my profession and within myself and i have received opportunities and recognition as a result of this and

what i do pays enough that i can support my spouse in a lower paying job that makes them happy and allows them to care for their health

i have interests and hobbies that bring me great joy including fandom stuff

i have friends who love me in my entirety, i no longer cut off or hide parts of myself to gain their acceptance and you know what? my friends are so cool and so beautiful and so intelligent and also weird and funny and wonderful

i really like the city i live in and the community i’ve created here even though it means i probably won’t own property anytime soon, if ever

if i had to be judged that’s the criteria i would want to be judged against. but over a one hour zoom call where everyone is talking about their kids and their houses, that’s not really possible to communicate. no one is mean or cruel like they were 27 years ago. but it feels like they are all looking at me and thinking that i’m not quite a success. and i’m looking at them thinking, i am really glad that i had the courage to pursue the life i really wanted rather than stay in a marriage where i would have been unhappy just to fit into some ideal that i was never ever going to truly fit into.

anyway we’re having our 27 year reunion on tuesday on zoom and i’m attending again. because you know what? i don’t actually know that they are all judging me as less of a success. maybe they have grown just a bit from when we were 15 and have realized that we each have different goals and values in life. maybe they are open to the idea that success doesn’t have to look just one way.

that’s tuesday. wednesday i’ll wake up and drive to meet a friend and go for a walk in protected wetlands overlooking the beach and then go eat overpriced salad. and she will remind me that the people who are actively in my life, who don’t just exist in a group chat and one hour on zoom per year, see me and love me and honor me in my entirety.

[miss-ddarling]

05/14/2023 4:47AM

Vulnerability after Grief

I’m typing on my laptop, writing notes about different things relating to Spirituality. A topic and feeling I’ve been growing toward. I’m specifically learning more about the third eye and I had a weird thought while smoking my blunt. I always thought that the third eye opening was a specific weird experience. I felt like it would be a That's so Raven moment that would be startling. I also pictured it to be like a Ghost Whisper moment, where I suddenly can see spirits!

However, now that I'm older…

I feel like it’s more of an endless later where you learn more and more and unlearn things as well. Through education (learning) , mindfulness,meditation and opening your awareness. It sounds like a bunch of hippie babble yeah? Well, what I’m trying to say is I feel like I'm at a point in my life where I do feel closer to “peace.”

I am far away from peace when it comes to finances and struggling to have enough food or pay every bill and work just enough. However, mentally…I feel like I've been kicked down so much that there isn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

My dad suddenly passed away the day after I moved to another state to go to college, not be a burden to him anymore financially and so that I could find myself. Instead, I ended up in a relationship with someone who didn’t want a relationship and them living with me. Fights and fights because of misunderstandings, different mental awareness and age gap. I was a girl learning to become a woman in a world that already sees me as such.

I went from being a recently graduated college student moving out to go to another college to further education.. Daddy paying my phone bill and everything..To having life insurance and bills and debt I never knew existed.

You could say I was spoiled. Because I was. He even cleaned for me.

I spoke to my Dad every single day multiple times and the only other person I spoke to weekly was my boyfriend.

So, you can think of how the pressure of all this affected that boyfriend. In my opinion, he felt like he had to take care of me so he put up a front until he couldn’t anymore. Then, would occasionally find himself flirting with another woman online. A lot of men see that i’m mature but they can’t accept and love the flaws that come with me actually being young and neurodivergent.

I’ve survived multiple Suicide attempts, rapes, and child sex trafficking. When I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did.

Where I currently am, is a little over 2 years after my dads death, in my apt with my ex. I’m smoking and doing research about things i’m interested in again. I had to drop out of college the first semester because it was a few months after my dads death and I couldn’t even read a paragraph or type one.

It feels… amazing to be able to write again.

I want to share my life experiences with the world so that someone out there who went through something similar can see that, even if it does get worse…there’s still a way to find peace until it’s consistently great.

I’ll be 23 in a few weeks. I never thought I’d reach 18.

I don’t believe in a god anymore but I do believe that I can use this time on earth to heal other people through being vulnerable and sharing my experiences.

Tomorrow, I could become homeless. I would shrug because even if I was now facing starvation, and other issues relating to it, I would know that I’ve made it so far. I’ve been through so many things where I wanted to die and had to hurt myself to feel anything. I’m raising myself, have no parents and I’m broke in another state with family who’s hurt me more than helped. However, I am not what has happened to me or who has hurt me. I am always shedding the day prior and creating a new skin for what is to come.

I have came too far to back down from anything that wants to bring me down. Even if physically I am not well, mentally and spiritually I will be. I will still be kind. I will still fight my way until I die.

I will not let the dark take the most important thing from me, my mind.

This song is how I’ve started feeling since disconnecting from everything I believed I needed to be happy. To find self love, acceptance and happiness within myself. It’s a bumpy add ride with plenty flashbacks, but it’s still a way up.

If you want to hear part 2 on audio or read it, comment or like❤️