im too lazy to make a new pinned but im linking my super outdated one if u want to get a vibe of wtf im sayiing
almost home
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH


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im too lazy to make a new pinned but im linking my super outdated one if u want to get a vibe of wtf im sayiing

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I also like the group parasite inspection a lot. Mulder cracks a joke and the other guys are completely silent meanwhile Scully is doing something really gay with a toxicologist
& the dog fucking lives this episode is just banger after banger
I feel like the erotic parasite examination really overshadows some other incredibly important moments in Ice for example scully tackles that guy
Day off & I like my new therapist & my copay is only $20 & bong rips on the bathroom floor 🌈🐬

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make a minimum of 20 posts a day, be annoying as fuck, repeat things you said a few weeks ago, destroy your follower’s dashboards, never kill yourself
Something I don’t think we talk about enough in grief is the way that it (unfairly) tinges the life that was. I think this was really well done in the novel Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield, and while I didn’t really touch on it in the post I made about that story I do think I (unintentionally) alluded to it.
My sister was fearless. Honestly, it was to a level that was likely symptomatic of her mental illness, but it was also one of the things that made her so amazing to be around. She was always sitting on the edge of some building she scaled, running into the ocean when the riptides would scare adults away, or skipping around shoeless in some field, unbothered by the bee stings on the heels of her feet. She never seemed to care much what others thought of her, and in turn she was so easy to be yourself around. She sang loudly and unrestrained to whatever song was in her head. She let her little sister hang out with her friends, completely unembarrassed by the fact that she was fifteen and probably shouldn’t be doing that. I sometimes felt like I had the anxiety for the both of us. I was terrified she would fall. I stayed up late on the nights she snuck out, knowing that my favorite person in the world was the teenage girl alone on the subway at three in the morning, probably a little high. She was always more social than me, she always had more friends than I did, and she was always trying new things regardless of her perceived skill level. I learned everything I knew from her, but I could never accomplish that same level of fearlessness. Granted, I climbed the buildings behind her and ran into the ocean right after her. For the most part I loved being right there with her, partially to hold her back from swimming out too far, and partially because she could be fearless for the both of us. When she died though, I let my fear overcome me. I was scared to get close to people because I didn’t want to have something I could lose. I was scared to be myself because I thought I was someone worth leaving. I was scared to climb a building because I didn’t want to become what she became—no longer her, but the person we lost. I don’t think she would be ashamed of who I have become, she was too empathetic and caring for that, but I can’t help feeling like she would be disappointed. There are parts of grief I would like to reject wholeheartedly but for my own sanity I have to find some kind of lesson in all of it, and what it seems to boil down to is that I want to be able to carry those things I admired so much about her. People like to say that the dead live through memories, through the people who loved them. And that’s true, but for so long it’s feels like that continuation of life, that love, has only been pain and fear. My sister has lived these past eight and a half years through a family completely devastated. Her legacy has become an over reliance on alcohol, distraction through intense work schedules, irrational fear, and my own refusal to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t blame myself or my family for this, we’re all miserable and doing our best, but I can’t help but feel as if it’s a betrayal of her. We were blessed with fifteen years of a fearless, kind, creative, social girl, and I wish we were able to carry that with us. My sister spread joy, not out of a selfless desire to make other peoples lives better, but because she was joy.
I think a lot about Our Wives Under the Sea because what I touched on in my post was the shock and confusion: Leah came back from a sea expedition completely different—unknown. It was horrific and unreal, as grief tends to be. I didn’t touch on what this meant for Miri’s memories of her. I think this can be said for many “came back wrong” stories. We often think of them as illustrations of the unfortunate permanence of death, as a grasp at control over something so inevitable, but what about the way it alters our memories? Will Miri be able to remember the Leah she knew, the one who was kind and joyful and full of life, when her last memories with her were so far removed from that? Won’t Miri’s memories always be at least somewhat tinged with the silent Leah; whose gums were blue and skin translucent? Grief doesn’t just mean that you never get to hug your favorite person again. The loss isn’t just the lack but the final event that becomes unfairly and indisputably attached to the life.
I was scrolling through the tags and I want to to offer an optimistic take so some of the more “realistic” reblogs.
Trees are competitive, it’s true. When there is a break in the canopy, a tree will fight hard to grow as fast as it can to take that space and be the one to take up that sunlight, often hindering other young growth around it. They will outcompete other life for the sake of their own survival. Plants are a great illustration for allowing only the strongest to survive. That being said, that’s what makes life so adaptable. We fight to make our own environments hospitable for us, but that doesn’t mean we don’t help others along the way. Fallen fruits, leaves, and branches offer nutrients to the plants on the forest floor. Dense canopies, while selfish with sunlight, protect smaller trees with weaker branches from harsh weathers. Even their monopoly over the sunlight, however “selfish” it may be, creates an environment that allows shade loving plants to thrive, all while offering moisture and nutrients. Even trees like pines—who will create a carpet of needles over the floor, smothering out all other life—only out compete because they are suited the best for that specific environment. Their layered branches handle snow better, their dark, evergreen needles allow them to soak up as much sunlight as possible in environments where the sunlight is limited. The trees aren’t selfish, they take what they need to survive, as “individuals” and to ensure their own reproduction, maintaining globally balanced ecosystems in which all creatures can thrive. Pine barrens have nutrient poor soils and are incredibly susceptible to wildfires, which allow plant and animal species to thrive without competition from those who can’t handle that kind of environment.
And obviously, one of the most realistically “pessimistic” takes regards human interference. Still, it’s not as cut and dry as one might think. I will not deny the harm of the Anthropocene. I will not claim survival of the fittest when it comes to the mass extinction of too many species of plants and animals, the genocide of humans, or acts of ethnic cleansing. But I refuse to encourage the idea that those acts are inevitable—that humans are constitutionally or immutably dominating. Not only do I think it’s a cop out—that it lacks true accountability—but because it pushes this idea of human separatism that doesn’t align with what I believe to be true about the world. Take, for example, the oak tree in North America. I don’t think I need to explain the importance of oak trees in regards to other plants and non-human animals. They are some heavy lifters in incredibly biodiverse environments. What’s maybe lesser known, though, is that acorns were a dietary staple for many people indigenous to North America. And this wasn’t just passive foraging, these ecosystems were, in part, maintained by those who relied on them. Oaks are very resilient to fire and are not very tolerant of shade, unlike many tree species who could outcompete them. In an average environment, if a couple of maple seedlings find their way into an oak grove, there is a very good chance that, over time, the maples will take over. This is because young maple trees can survive for a long time in the understory with very limited sunlight, where young oaks cannot. When an older oak falls and a gap is created in the canopy, the surviving maple sapling will then take its spot. Knowing this, indigenous Americans used controlled forest fires as a way to ensure the survival of the oak. And who knows if the oak would even exist today without that! In the 40s and 50’s Smokey the Bear promised us an end to wildfires! Granted, much of this was in regards to accidental (non-controlled) fires caused by humans, but it was also a side effect of a culture who was terrified of any human interaction with nature—because humans, in the eyes of this culture, were not part of this nature. This mindset is heavily rooted in human centrism and racism which I have written a bit about in my thoughts on pastoralism (which I might link when I’m on my laptop), but right now I’m less interested in the cause and more in the effect. For a while, we had this idea that all human interaction was inherently harmful, and this led to a serious decline in oak trees. I bring this up because I don’t know the exact intentions behind the controlled fires practiced by indigenous Americans. They could’ve been done for purely “selfish” reasons or in an effort to maintain ecosystems for all creatures, but does it matter? Bees pollinate as a byproduct of feeding. They may or may not be aware that through their feeding, they are ensuring the survival of the species that they feed off of—ensuring their own survival in the future—but they are. Their base needs could be seen as “selfish”, like the trees who fight for space in the upper canopy, but their base needs are part of a generative ecosystem.
Now I don’t want this to perpetuate any type of noble savage myth we often associate with indigenous cultures. I am not comparing indigenous people to bees, I am comparing all people to bees. Certain cultures are more cognizant of our “natural” surroundings, but it’s not some innate, ethnically-based, intuitive knowledge, it’s about our surroundings and how our needs get met. Capitalism has sold us (modern western culture, at the very least) this idea that we need more, that we are more. The rich profit off of our evolutionary (human) fear that we won’t have access to our base needs unless we subscribe to these ideas of control and domination. They do this by depriving us of our base needs all while telling that it’s about limited supply (while creating islands in the sea of our waste). We are just as much a part of the natural way off all things as any other animal. Our fear of accepting that, whether out of shame (the Anthropocene is real and scary!) or out of perceived human superiority, only does harm. To say we’re above it, to say we’re separate, is part of the reason that the oak trees are declining*. To assign the human idea of selfishness to trees isn’t being realistic, it’s assigning a depravity to the existence of life itself.

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emo posting about Mulder and grief is so nice because all I have to do is scroll down to “more posts like this” to find a gif of him shirtless with bed head like yeah that’s my suicidal babyyyyyyy my baby!!!
Sometimes the x files is just about meeting someone as enamored with death as you are
formative years? aren’t they all?
there is a pain inside me so stupid that i'm not going to communicate it to anyone
severely deficient in whatever vitamin makes u a person

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everyone is sweaty for the entirety of fight the future. the whole movie. the aesthetic is spraying a light mist on david duchovny’s face two seconds before they call action. i like it
mulders reaction when Colton suggests he could get Scully off the x files is insane
Getting caught acting crazy territorial about my coworker of somewhere between 1 and 15 months