#My dad use to work as a cook so he taught me the proper art of food preparation

[chaeiimimi]

06 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬!

Synopsis: Sakusa Kiyoomi, a young ravishing man, an athlete for the Japanese volleyball team and comes from a very prominent family around Japan. He was perfect, looks, wealth and fame. But you can’t have everything in life, can you? Sakusa, the germophobic athlete, suddenly wakes up one day and sees a baby boy in a basket in front of his door step, in the basket was a letter, a letter from his past lover, saying that the child was his. The panic look on the spiker’s face was almost comical, knowing that his life would turn into a complete 360, that day was his first time ever to miss a volleyball practice and to call Komori to ask for a babysitter. You.

Notice: the only thing I own is the plot, the art and the characters aren't mine and they all belong to their respective owners.

Safe to say you didn’t get as much sleep as you hoped that night

“eh?” you were shocked, you didn’t expect him to do it so soon

“yeah, they work from home tomorrow, we should pay them a visit”

“we?” you were flabbergasted, you? You’re meeting the elite and respected Sakusa Family?

“yeah, do you have any problems with that?” yes, a lot

“n-no sir”

So now you left a note on the kitchen counter saying you are going to the market to get some ingredients for the dish you were going to cook for Sakusa’s parents

Since you were young, your parents always taught you that you cannot visit a home empty handed, it was proper courtesy and showed respect and appreciation for having you in their home.

You strolled along the market looking at fresh produce, you opted for seafood, since it’s healthier for older people

A huge salmon caught your eyes and miso-zuke salmon immediately popped in your head, you looked at your watch, it was only five in the morning, you can let it marinate for how many hours and grill it for 30 minutes, which will be enough time to bring it for lunch

You bought it from the vendor who was very kind and even gave you a discount, after that you went to a bakery supplies to get some carrot décor and some ingredients to make icing, you were planning to make a cake less sweet so Sakusa’s parents can eat as well

With that, you head home

You saw Sakusa seating by the coffee table, sipping coffee and reviewing the forms you filled out

“good morning sir” you say as you take the things you bought to the kitchen

“we really don’t need to bring them anything you know” he says as, eyes still not leaving the papers

“I know, but my parents always tell me to not visit anyone’s house empty-handed, it’s a sign of courtesy”

He just nodded and said “suit yourself”

You begin making the marinade, thankfully the fish vendor was kind enough to slice the salmon up for you

About half way through you heard Kaito’s cry and you were about to wipe your hands to get to him when Sakusa stood up

“I got him, continue your work”

You nodded and did exactly that, it took fifteen minutes to make the marinade, you soaked the salmon in it , coverd it, and put in inside the freezer

Sakusa went out with a calm Kaito, he sat in the coffee table , his son carefully cradled in his one arm as his other hand held the forms he hasn’t reviewed yet

Looks like he got the hang of carrying Kaito you said inside your head as you smiled to yourself

You slowly mixed the ingredients together not noticing that Sakusa was now behind you

“what are you doing?” you flinched , surprised by your boss sudden speaking

“I’m making a cake sir” you said holding your chest

It wasn’t clear, heck if you didn’t spend your three months with him you wouldn’t have noticed the small smile grazing his lips

And you regret noticing because you were now flustered

You cleared your throat

“where’s Kaito?” you asked, focusing your attention back to your task

“he’s sleeping” he answered

Your mouth formed into an ‘o’

“is it normal for babies to sleep so much” he asked, his voice genuinely concern

You chuckled  “apparently, it is sir, sleep is actually healthy for baby, aside from them having small stomach and get full easily, their tiredness can also be the cause of a growth spurt or developmental leap” you say in as-a-matter-of-fact tone

He nods as he watches you pour the mixture to a cake mold, which he didn’t even know he had

“does your parents like cake sir?” you asked as you put the dough into the oven

“my mom eats it occasionally, my dad is a sucker for it, we try to make him cut it out for a bit, it’s bad for his health”

You nod, Sakusa has been a bit talkative since your talk last night

“in that case, I’ll make the buttercream frosting less sweet” you say as you washed your hands to prepare to make the frosting

Sakusa watched you as you make the frosting, a lot of thoughts inside his head

“is she doing this to impress my parents?”

“why would she want to impress my parents?”

“does she likes-“

Sakusa shook his head profusely muttering small no’s you were just nice and polite, yea, that’s it

He cleared his throat and went to the coffee table, he finished reviewing the forms you filled out and all of them were perfect, he opened his desktop and began with his work at the company again

The timer went off and it was time to take the cake out of the oven

Kaito was awake and mindlessly babbling in his crib while Sakusa watched replays of some volleyball games

You set the cake on a cooling rack to let it cool down for a while

You decided to clean the house while waiting for the cake to cool down

you wiped some shelves, throw out the trash and vacuumed, by the time you were finished cleaning , the cake was already cool, you begin frosting it, putting crushed nuts at the side of the cake and decorating the top of the cake with candy carrots and some edible decorative leaves, you slowly put it in the fridge

you sighed

“you need to rest” Sakusa says as he gets himself some water

You looked at the time and it was already 10

You shook your head “I just need to grill the salmon sir” and so you did grill the tuna for thirty minutes, gave Kaito a bath for twenty minutes, showered and changed yourself into a simple sundress

By the time you were done packing everything it was already 11:30

You and Sakusa made your way to his car, Kaito was in his baby seat and his father placed him on the back seat, you were about to seat beside Kaito when he cleared his throat

“won’t I look like a personal driver if the both of you sat there?”

You immediately got up and sat at the shotgun seat

The ride was quiet, it was a comfortable silence though, Kaito’s occasional babbles while you were still amazed by the rich neighborhood and Sakusa’s eyes are focused on the road

You arrived at his paren’ts place in fifteen minutes and you could hear the voices of people from afar

You entered the house-no, this was a freaking castle, it was huge, there was a guard, some gardeners and maids

Sakusa parked his car, you got out, he carried Kaito’s baby seat which had a handle while you carried the cake and the salmon-sizu

You walked to the backyard where you saw some children, you recognize some of them as Sakusa’s older siblings’ children, they looked like they were having an outdoor barbecue by their pool-side

Sakusa cleared his throat

They all stopped dead in their tracks eyes wide open

Sakusa glared at them “geez you guys don’t need to act like you saw a ghost”

“well what do you expect you barely visit us here?!” you assumed that it was his brother you spoke

His mother and father looked at you, and you felt very small

“woah and you- you- holy crap your married?!”

And with just one sentence there was a fiasco

“Uncle Kiyoomi is married? We have a new aunt?” a kid who was about nine said and rushed towards new but his sisters were already all up on you

“woah when did you guys get married?”

“when did you meet?”

“what company does your family own?”

“your dress looks so good?”

“do you like chanel?”

You were overwhelmed and couldn’t talk

Your boss sighed “she’s not my wife, she’s my son’s nanny and househelper”

They stopped on their tracks, as you stood there and smiled awkwardly

“but you’re too pretty to be a nanny!”

One of his nieces explained

“you have a son?!” Sakusa’s brother exclaimed

“I know right” Sakusa says nonchalantly

Sakusa was a calm compared to his very lively family

“you impregnated your househelper?” Sakusa’s father asked confused

Your eyes widened and you shook your head profusely

“it’s Nami’s” Sakusa sighed and handed his parents a letter, his brother and two sisters stood beside their parents to read the letter as well

They were dumbfounded when they finished reading, you can’t blame them, you had the same reaction when you first read that letter as well

“what a cruel woman…” Sakusa’s mother says, it seems like she was the first one to recover

Sakusa looked at his son who was looking up at him while sucking on his pacifier

“I don’t need her to raise my son” Sakusa says sternly, his family members looked at him

Sakusa took Kaito in his arms “everyone, this is Sakusa Kaito, my son” he says while Kaito babbles and cracked a toothless smile

There was a moment of silence

When...

 “Oh my lord! what a handsome baby!” Sakusa’s mother gushed and approached Sakusa and took Kaito from him

“holy hell bro he looks just like you!” his brother also says, as he pinch Kaito’s cheeks

“I want him to model for my baby line AAAHHHHH” his sister, which you assumed to be Aiko Sakusa a famous fashion designer

Sakusa Kairo the eldest among the siblings, a pilot and owns an airlines company

Akemi, the third child, a famous architect, she owns an architectural firm

And Sakusa Kiyoomi the youngest, Athlete-Entrepreneur manages a chain of hotels and restaurants

And of course Sakusa Arisa and Sakusa Katashi, the founder of Sakusa Empire

These people are one of the most influential family in japan, yet when you looked at them they look quite normal

Sakusa looked kind of distant, but you could see the softness in his features as he stares at his son being cradled and passed around by his family members

You did notice that his father was emotionlessly staring at the scene

“Kiyoomi you haven’t introduce your “helper” to us yet” Akemi says teasingly

Sakusa shook his head

“this is Y/N she’s Komori’s friend , she helps around my house and takes care of Kaito” he says as stood beside you

The whole family except for Komori’s dad looked at you with almost teary eyes

“thank you for dealing with our ill-mannered kiyoomi” his mother says

“You’re too pretty to be a nanny though, if you ever consider modeling come to me” Aiko says as she held both of your hands

You bowed to them politely “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Kiyoomi is a good boss to me” you said, feeling all stiff and awkward

“chill out Y/N-san we don’t bite” Kairo chuckled

You nodded awkwardly, Sakusa nudged you and pointed at the items you were holding

“oh, we bought you some salmon-sizu and carrot cake, I hope you like it” you said as you showed them the things you bought

“Y/N-chan I love you already” Akemi says as she took the carrot cake from you and led you to the table

 In no time the family were all eating and having fun, you had Kaito in your arms and was feeding him

“Y/n dear, this salmon and cake are so delicious, where did you buy them?”

You quickly realized that your boss’ mother was a sweet lady

“oh, I made them ma’am, my mother is a baker, it’s her recipe, I tweaked it a bit for it to make it less quick, my father is a fish broker, he told me that salmon is a healthy fish to serve” you smiled at her

“Y/N-chan you’re too kind, I hope my brother isn’t being a jerk to you” Aiko says as she eats cake

You chuckled at them

“Y/N-chan, how is our Kiyoomi?” Akemi asked

“Sir Sakusa is doing fine I think, he’s just a bit tired from volleyball and the company, he also makes time for Kaito whenever he can, he’s still a little bit confuse and clumsy”

Kairo, Akemi, Aiko and Mrs. Sakusa nodded together

“Y/N-chan do you like Kiyoomi?” Aiko asked which made you flustered

“I-I- yes-yes b-but- as a boss- I like him as a person-like a boss-“

“geez no need to get flustered now, we were only asking” Kairo said as he chuckled

“we don’t mind if you like him though, we’ll be delighted to have you here” Akemi says and smiled at you

You were now as red as a tomato

After the conversation, you were left with Kaito, he was now wide awake and you were playing with him

Only then did you noticed Sakusa’s father staring at you two

You cleared your throat, you got up, carrying Kaito, you cleaned up the plates near Sakusa’s father

Kaito pointed at his grandfather

You quietly approached the man

“sir, do you want to hold him?”  you asked

He looks up at you, you smiled at him and slowly sat Kaito on his lap

He looks at Kaito emotionlessly, when Kaito smiled at him and babbles “babababa!”

For the first time today, you saw a soft smile made its way to Sakusa’s father’s face

“he looks just like him” the elderly man mumbles

“I can see that sir” you smiled softly at them, slowly taking out your phone and quietly took a picture of the scene, not knowing that some of the eyes of the family were on you

 “she’s a good woman” Sakusa’s mother says to his son

“she is” Kiyoomi says as he stares at you, having a small conversation with his father, it’s very rare for him to communicate or interact with people other than business matters, but he doesn’t seem to have any trouble conversing with you

“do you like her Kiyo?” his mother asks teasingly

“mom, no” Kiyoomi sighs and takes a sip of his lemonade

Although his parents were mostly absent during his childhood, him and his siblings maintained a close relationship with them, and both his mother and father always made time for them on the weekends

A lot of people assumed that they were like the rich family from dramas, the tension and stuff but it was far from that, they were pretty normal, and chaotic at times

 “Your salmon-sizu was very good” your boss’ dad says as you took Kaito from him, the baby has already fallen asleep

“thank you sir, it was my dad’s recipe, he says it’s good for your health” you smiled as you cradled Kaito

He smiled and got up from his seat to join the rest of his family, you laid Kaito on his baby seat and wiped the sweat off his forehead

 The rest of the day were spent with you helping the maids with grilling, but Aiko quickly swooped in and wanted you to join the party, so there you were surrounded by your boss’ nieces and nephews

“you’re not uncle Kiyo’s girlfriend?” Arata, who was around seven years old asked you, he was Kairo’s son

You chuckled and shook your head

“but I want you to be my aunt, aunt y/n” Chizu who was Aiko’s daughter, said with pleading eyes

You just chuckled at them and diverted their attention to something else, you told them stories your parents and sister used to tell you when you were young, their eyes sparkled with fascination, even Mika and Eichi who were both teenagers were interested in your stories as well that they tore their eyes off of their phone screens

Later in the night you guys played uno, you taught them the basics, these kids didn’t know anything about games outside their phones

You couldn’t really relate to the adult’s conversation since they were talking about businesses so you hang out with the kids, and you were loving every moment of it, despite being born from rich families, they were really nice and humble, Eichi was very similar to his grandfather and his Uncle KIyoomi but he was polite nonetheless

It was finally time to leave, the kids were tired and the same to the adults

“come visit us soon aunt y/n” Mira says sleepily she was Akemi’s only child

You smiled at them and waved

“you better come back Y/N-chan we want another one of your carrot cake” Aiko says as you bowed to them

“dear, if ever Kiyo fires you, you are free to apply at our house” says Kiyoomi’s mother says as you leave

Your boss sighs as you finally entered his car

“they really like you” he mumbles

“I guess they do?” you chuckled

“hey y/n, thank you”

You tilt your head in confusion “for what sir?”

“just, thank you”

Taglist: @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @seashellmichellee @tetsuhoes @akaashislovelywife  @strawberryzos  @kuroohoeee @underratedmage @popping-cherries @uwu-iwanttodie @wonhyuksstuff @  @knmsapplepi    @stormcastello @si-m-p

[acesydneysage]

Gathering my sydrian prompts in one post

Some of these were originally directed at people who asked for prompts, and others were AU ideas, so they go from extremely vague to way too detailed. I'm copying them all here for my own convenience, but if anybody is interested, please go ahead and use them, and let me know you did.

Any character's reaction to finding out about sydrian that we haven't seen. Specifically Abe, specially if they're present being adorable. Sydney sassing Abe is a bonus. I really wish we'd gotten more reactions.

Just Sydney and Adrian going around solving supernatural mysteries and being a cute couple

Bring Hopper back, somehow

Sydrian being good parents! I made one post in my sydrian tag about them adopting a bunch of kids and one about Adrian dressing Declan up as mini Adrian for events.

I know it's January August, but Halloween is a sydrian thing, so have them dress up as Gomez and Morticia (I also have a post about that lol). Maybe next Halloween they can be Westley and Buttercup

Adrian's pov on romantic scenes from the first books. The Golden Lily has so much angst potential, with how he's realizing he's falling for someone who was taught to believe he's evil, and The Indigo Spell has some amazing scenes.

People finding out about Sydney's magic. I think the existence of witches would probably be a bigger deal when Moroi found out about it.

Sydney's mom and Carly finding her, and discovering that she's married and everything else

Vow renewal ceremony with all the friends who couldn't be at the wedding. Maybe Declan carrying Hopper on a red pillow as he carries the rings.

Alt ending where they go to whatever escape plan of theirs is your favorite

Alt ending where they lead a rebellion against the alchemists, effect large scale change with the witches and ex-alchemists' help and liberate more reeducation centers

AU where Adrian is an architect who wants to do insane, impossible things and Sydney is an engineer who tries to make him be reasonable, or tries to make it work

Similarly, writer/editor AU

Childhood friends AU. I think his family could have an estate close to Sydney's house and they see each other every summer. They never mention their ties to the supernatural, and as Sydney gets older she's in denial about the fact that her friend is obviously a Moroi, and therefore she should stop being his friend. That interrogation scene in Last Sacrifice is the first time Adrian saw her in a few years, and that's how he finds out she's an Alchemist, and by them he knows about Alchemists' beliefs.

Childhood rivals AU

All human AU where he helps her dismantle the cult her dad leads

Trying to explain to her human friends from Palm Springs that she didn't marry her brother

Paint fights. I like them.

Neil comes back, and they get scared that he wants Declan back

Dealing with Sydney's PTSD and Adrian's mental health, preferably ending in hopeful note, with healthy coping mechanisms and communication

AU where Sydney is a mechanic working for her mom and Adrian finds excuses to come over, and let's her drive the Ivashkinator.

Regency fake marriage AU where they elope so Sydney won't have to marry a creep Jared tried to set her up with, and then they mutually pine

Art thieves au, either Sydney is the investigator, or they're a team, or one evolving into the other

AU where Sydney is living with her recently widowed sister Carly, after her husband Keith died suddenly, and she just happens to be an expert on poisons. The life expectancy of abusive husbands drops sharply. Adrian starts to figure it out, but he's moved tohelp her get away instead of turning her in.

That last one could be paired with a pen-pals AU, where they become close friends and develop feelings through letters but don't really know each others' identity. I think it could start with Sydney requesting a book she needs, and Adrian sends it to her with a quippy note, and in her thank you letter she can't stop herself from making a thinly veiled sarcastic reply. They keep up the back and forth because they find each other funny. I can maybe insert bi!Adrian into the narrative by not having him know she's a woman, and just trying to very subtly suss out if his pen pal might be into men. If they end up in the same city (like if you pair it with the one above) being convinced that she's a male researcher could justify why he doesn't figure out that she's his pen pal when it starts getting obvious.

Silver Shadows Fake marriage AU where Lissa is right and the wedding in Silver Shadows was just to protect her. I think I might have a longer post on that already. Sydney was sent to re-education for something else, and Adrian breaks her out. They love each other but aren't couple, and he doesn't wnt her to be with him out of gratitude, while she feels bad about how she rejected him,or for the things she said in re-education. When they leave court to find Jill they keep finding excuses for why they have to keep up the fake marriage.

Old Hollywood fake marriage AU where Adrian's reputation is in danger (maybe because he's bi and his break up with his last boyfrind got some attention, causing speculation), so the studio has him marry Sydney for good publicity. Maybe late 1940's, early 50's? I initially thought Sydney could be screenwriter struggling to get proper credit for her work as woman, but actually, it would be just like Sydney to start taking on a lot of jobs and managing everything, becoming a de facto producer who had to learn everything on the job and gets no credit.

Youtuber AU where Adrian watches Sydney's art history video to pass a test, and he keeps watching her talk about any nerd topic because he likes her, and her excitement about knowledge is cute. She watches Adrian and Rowena's art channel, and loves seeing him paint and how passionate he is about it. I just really like how they make heart eyes at each other whenever one of them is passionate about something in the books. Cassie can have a cooking channel, and teach Adrian how to cook for their first date.

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still ���sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #399

“i was raised by the devil’s own kin, taught me that a good time was never a sin”

Do you like wine? NOOOOOOO that shit is gross. Explain the grossest thing that's ever happened to you? Having an infected pilonidal cyst drained. Would you rather go on holiday somewhere warm or somewhere cold? Cold, for sure. What would be your ideal pet? I reeeeaaaally want a very visibly sunset morph ball python one day. The really pretty ones are expensive as fuck, but omg, I want one so badly. What was the last book you were required to read for school? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. It was fantastic. Would you chew somebody else's gum? EW FUCK NO. What was the last type of meat you ate? Chicken. How old were you when you had your first kiss? 16. At what age would you allow your kids to dye their hair? Whenever they wanted, as long as a professional did it. Which fast food place do you eat at the most? Probably McDonald's. Bats are not spooky or are they? I adore bats. Do you like the song "Womanizer?" Unabashedly, yes, haha. I love the beat and it's really catchy. Do you know how to change a tire? Nope. How big is your backyard? Very small. What is your favorite Nintendo 64 game? I've actually never played a Nintendo 64. If you want children, what are some of your reasons for wanting them? I don't want any. Does a career in finance sound interesting to you? Absolutely not. When you cook a dish that has beans in it, do you prefer to use canned or dry beans? I. HATE. Beans. What’s something that makes absolutely zero sense to you? Those that deny the existence of dinosaurs. Fossils don't lie. Do you like strawberry shortcake? No. What’s your favorite dessert? That's so hard, but probably cheesecake. What’s the last you got out of the freezer? Vanilla ice cream. Do you know anybody who is ambidextrous? Sara. Have you ever been 4-wheeling? Yes. Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? No. If you have glasses, have you ever smashed them? No. What was the last thing you got a really good deal on? My APAP mask. Insurance covered it way more than even the women in the office were used to so had to look into it. Insurance has been nice to me lately, from TMS to this. What was the last reason you took medicine? I had a massive headache. Any important birthdays coming up? My older sister's was today, and her eldest daughter's is in two days. Mark's birthday is the 28th, and that's like a holiday in my book lmao. What colour are your headphones? These earplugs are pink. How do you express your creativity? I mostly write RP and rarely poems. I also like to draw sometimes, and I'm big into photography. Gypsies or gnomes? Gypsies. Dragons or fairies? Dragons are my favorite mythological creatures. Elves or pixies? Elves. Where is your favourite place to get breakfast? Maybe Cracker Barrel? Or Waffle House. What was the first sport you learned how to play? I want to say soccer. I hated it. Nickname you’re called the most? "Britt" is the most used. Do you sleep on your stomach? I can't now with my mask. -_- That's how I usually slept. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Would you ever want a super-realistic baby doll? Fuuuuuuuuuck no. I don't like dolls, never mind realistic ones. Ladybugs or bumblebees? Ladybugs. <3 What is the best thing that ever happened to you? My first round of a partial hospitalization program and meeting my psychiatrist. Both that therapy and proper medication is the reason I'm alive. What is something really hurtful someone you love has said to you? That I was an "ungrateful bitch." What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful? One for advanced ball python husbandry. There are some SERIOUS elitists in there, but it does have great information. Did your mom ever own a typewriter? I think she did? We used to have one, so. What would you have your bridesmaids wear? Maybe orange. I want to wear a black dress and get married in the fall, so, Halloween vibes! :') Where do you want to go on your honeymoon? I think Alaska. Do you wear a watch every day? I never do. Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia? No, thankfully. Not yet, anyway. Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I am much happier with pets. Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid? No. Have you been hurt more by friend break-ups or romantic break-ups? Romantic ones. Who is/was the best friend you have ever had? Sara. Do you own a trenchcoat? No, but I wish. They're badass. Name the hardiest piece of technology you own? My iPod that I've had since middle school. That bitch STILL works, and I use it heavily. Are you currently in a smoking environment? No; people aren't allowed to smoke in our house. Have you ever owned a tire swing? No. Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? My old friend Alex did. I don't know if I can call her my "friend" anymore because I haven't seen or heard from her in well over a year at the bare minimum. Do you ever not speak to someone because you’re afraid you’ll annoy them? STORY OF MY LIFE. Is there any drama going on in your circle of friends? No. But I don't really have a "circle" of friends to begin with. Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I don't go on rollercoasters. If given the opportunity, would you act in a commercial? No. Do you believe in finders keepers in most situations? No. How many pills do you currently take a day? Ugh... Now keep in mind this number encompasses medications that I just have to take a larger dose of that particular med; I don't take this number of different prescriptions. AS a whole though, I take uhhh. Somewhere around nine or ten in the morning, and six at night. I might be off about my morning pills. What do you take medication for? Bipolarity and depression, anxiety, OCD, severe heartburn, even more intense nightmares, uhhh... maybe I'm forgetting others? Idk, man. I'm on too many. Have you ever had a bag stolen? No. What class from high school did you love the most? Art. What class did you hate the most? Economics. If you don’t have a car, do you wish you did? Not at this very moment, because it'd be useless as I don't currently drive. Have you ever had a job you loved? Nope. What, if anything, do you substitute for fries? I just eat normal fries when they're offered. Have you ever been in a building that was on fire? No. Have you ever written a poem for someone? At least twice. Have you been best friends with someone of a different race? Yes. Who’s the last person who cussed you out in anger? I think only my grandmother has done that. Who is the person you are closest to that you’ve meet online? Sara. Have you friended your parents on FB? Mom, yes, while Dad doesn't have one. What do you absolutely have to have to make your birthday feel special? My family. Mice or roaches? I love mice, but roaches creep me out. Have you ever received a gift and truly did not know what it was? Yes. A family friend is good at that. Is there anyone whose grave you visit? No. Do you like being in pictures? NO. Do you travel a lot? Not at all. Have you ever eaten a dog treat? No. I've eaten a guinea pig treat though, haha. And it wasn't awful. Have you ever wanted to get drunk and get your mind off everything? Yes, but turns out my alcohol tolerance is too high while only liking weak alcohol to begin with. Have you played cards recently? No. Is there a certain song you like to headbang to? I don't do that, I'd get way too dizzy, and besides, I don't want a headache. Anything you might be giving up on soon? I've been wondering if I should (for the most part) abandon human photography. I've lost so much passion for it, and besides, I feel like I'm going nowhere with it. I know I really, really shouldn't, though. Have you ever captured a moth? I put a caterpillar in one of those little plastic habitats once as a kid that grew into a moth. I then released it, of course. When was the last time you changed your picture on Facebook? It's been months. Do you have a really fat cat? No, he's healthy. Do your initials spell a word? No. Have you ever made a business card for yourself? No. Did you love playing hide and seek as a kid? Yes, that was my favorite! Are there any recipes you have memorized? No. Do you know your multiplication times tables? No. Do your parents allow you to have your privacy? Yes. Have you ever been severely burned? No. Did you ever dream that you had a baby? I've had many, actually. Guess with who. What was the weirdest thing you've ever seen cross the road? I want to say a turkey? Or maybe it was beside the road.

[jeremystrele]

A Drool-Worthy Day In The Life Of Instagram Food Sensation, Ellie Bouhadana of Ellie’s Table

A Drool-Worthy Day In The Life Of Instagram Food Sensation, Ellie Bouhadana of Ellie’s Table

A Day In The Life

Sasha Gattermayr

Ellie Bouhadana of Ellie’s Table lives in Balaclava with her partner. Even without lockdown restrictions, this is where she gets all her work done! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

She spends the start of her day collating off-the-cuff ideas stored in the ‘Notes’ app on her phone into a cohesive recipe plans. Then she tackles the daily admin of a small business: emails, budgets and contacting suppliers! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

A trip to local fruit and veg store to gather supplies is essential for a day of recipe testing. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Researching dishes consists of reading lots and lots of cookbooks -the dream! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Selecting produce at the local fruit and veg store in Balaclava, just down the road from Ellie’s house. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

On days when she hosts her pop-up trattoria, Ellie contacts her local supplier to talk through the best seasonal produce and order large quantities for service. But for recipe testing days, the local shop will definitely do! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Inside her light-filled, dreamy kitchen. The kitchen overlooks her garage and driveway, which was the location for her summer crostini bar. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

The open pantry is filled with Mediterranean pantry staples. Aperol Spritz, anyone? Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Ellie has Israeli, Moroccan and Jewish heritage, and her cooking is a fusion of them all, with a healthy dose of Italian thrown in! She calls it Italo-Mediterranean, which also captures the way she wants her food to be eaten (communally!) as well as the cuisine itself. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Though pasta is traditionally associated with Italy, dough is a central part of Jewish cuisine. Ellie’s grandmother used to watch her mother hang sheets of pasta between two broom handles, and has now taught Ellie how to make Jewish dumplings (kreplach) out of dough and drop them in soup. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

‘The women in my family don’t really work with recipes so much, they cook with instinct (and a lot of cumin). This is how I love to cook. I really want to preserve their style of cooking which is so innate and relaxed. It really is based on feeling.’ Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

A light and bright corner of the large kitchen. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Preparing homemade spaghetti alla chitarra with vongole. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Fresh pasta alongside ripe peaches and uncooked prawns. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Ellie doesn’t generally take a lunch break because she’s tasting food all day as she tests her recipes. Sometimes a chunk of bread with butter and an anchovy will do! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Ellie Bouhadana’s family is from Haifa, an Israeli city on the skinny stretch of coast between Tel Aviv and Beirut. When she was growing up, there was always streams of family and friends filing into her household to eat dinner on a Friday night. Later on, she would discover the same mode of eating in Italy, where a whole village would gather together at restaurants in search of good food and good company.

‘I would say my take on food is influenced by a mix of my Moroccan, Jewish and Israeli heritage; I call my style Italo-Mediterranean,’ she says. ‘When I lived in Haifa, I would watch my aunty make beautiful Friday night family Shabbat feasts from her tiny apartment – I would ask her questions, take notes on recipes. I really want to preserve their style of cooking which is so innate and relaxed.’

When she returned to Melbourne, she was so inspired by this philosophy of communal eating that she launched Ellie’s Table – a place for her to work through all her ideas and inspiration for food-oriented projects. It hit a culinary nerve. Beginning with the enormously successful ‘Doorstep Deliveries’ during lockdown, and expanding to a pop-up trattoria in Ripponlea late last year, Ellie has come a long way from a makeshift kitchen in a semi-demolished church (the first dining event she ever hosted for her friends!).

Without any formal training, she is now a cook, producer, art director and event manager all rolled into one! What does such an indefinable job description mean for her day-to-day life? Funny you should ask…

First Thing…

I usually wake up around 7am because of the light that streams directly into my room. In saying that, when I have the time I can wake up much later, and love spending part of the morning relaxing in bed.

A ritual I’ve always stuck by in the morning is making my bed – it makes me feel like I’ve already accomplished something in my day! I then put a podcast on and go for a walk, ending the walk most days at my local coffee shop in Balaclava. Or I skip the walk for morning yoga.

No matter the weather I love sitting outside the cafe, it feels fresh and is always nice to have a bit of sun on my face while I have a coffee, read or check emails/write a to-do list for the day. I’m usually not really hungry in the mornings, but if I am it’s hunger for a pastry of some sort.

Morning…

My work schedule isn’t super regular, as my weeks often look quite different. On a week where I have a pop-up, I start working at around 8.30am. I’m not the most efficient person, so I try to start early so I can get a lot done.

When I am planning a pop-up I usually sit at my dining table and untangle the inspiration I have messily collected in my ‘Notes’ folder on my phone, writing/drawing my ideas down properly. Embedded throughout my morning is doing research in cookbooks, or sometimes speaking to my mum and grandmother to chat through food ideas.

One morning a week I’ll speak to my fruit and veg supplier to see what he recommends at that moment, based on the season. I’ll then buy a few ingredients and test recipes in my kitchen at home.

Lunchtime…

I know it seems weird but I don’t often take a proper break for lunch. I snack all day during recipe testing, so I don’t really have proper meals unless my partner is home and forces me to sit down with him. It’s the nature of my work because I’m testing food/creating new dishes all the time. Especially when I am cooking for a Saturday pop-up, I am constantly on my feet, tasting food, which makes it hard to take a moment to sit down and make myself a whole meal.

Some days I will tell a couple of friends or my sisters to come by for lunch and try the dishes I’ve been working on. Other days I will slice off a chunk of bread and eat it with butter and an anchovy – that satisfies me for a while.

Afternoon…

After testing recipes I sit down and break the dishes down and create a menu for that weekend’s pop-up (often the dishes aren’t where I want them to be and I’ll need to do more testing the following days). Once I have a menu I am happy with, I begin on all the admin side of the pop-up. There is a huge amount to work through. I begin contacting my suppliers, create the budgets and online booking forms, and organise the overall running of the event.

I actually feel energised at this time! I do a lot of my best work in the afternoons and into the evening.

Evening…

I don’t have a consistent time that I finish work, I always feel like I could do more. If I’m having friends over for dinner I close my laptop between 6 and 7pm and start cooking.

After testing and thinking about food all day, I like to finish the night with simple food. Recently I’ve been enjoying lentils cooked slowly in a sofrito base glistening with extra virgin olive oil. I sear it off with cured meat like pancetta/salami, herbs and wine. I also find myself craving steamed mussels with crusty bread.

I’ve always loved having people over for dinner as a way to unwind. I know that sounds like a lot of effort after a big day but for me throwing a little “casual” dinner party with my partner gives me a way to do something other than think about my projects. I can just immerse myself in the food I’m making for dinner, drink a glass of wine with friends, and relax.

If I’m not in the mood to cook I love going out to eat at either of my two favourite local restaurants (Claypots or Cicciolina) to have a bowl of pasta, or our favourite cajun flathead, and finish with ice cream down the road.

Last Thing…

Depending on the night I usually get into bed between 10.30 and 11pm.

I would say I normally get a lot of sleep just because I love my bed, but at the same time I have learnt that I can function on almost no sleep when I am doing pop-ups. The adrenaline gets to me, and even if I’ve been up cooking until the early hours I somehow still manage to get up at 5am, bake off 15 trays of focaccia in my small oven and throw a super fun pop-up trattoria party that evening!

Art direction and styling is as much a part of Ellie’s business as her food. Her eye is impeccable! Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

One luscious spread! Pictured is grilled sardines, salsa verde and chilli; fresh focaccia; heirloom tomatoes with marinated figs, local basil and extra virgin olive oil; buffalo mozzarella with thinly shaved melon; Wagyu bresaola with guindilla peppers and parmigiano; fennel and baby pea salad, anchovy, olives and lemon. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

What are your favourite dishes to cook?

My favourite dishes to cook usually involve anchovies, white wine and good extra virgin olive oil. One of my favourites is thick spaghetti with vongole (clams) and lots of fresh chilli and garlic. Artichoke are also a nostalgic favourite. We used to eat them as kids at my grandfather’s house – my Dad would show us how to peel back the layers until you reached the artichoke heart. Now I boil them whole for dinner parties. I usually make a buttery lemon vinaigrette or salsa verde to dip the leaves into.

If borlotti beans are in season I gently boil a bunch with herbs and add them into the marinade to eat with fresh buffalo mozzarella and the artichoke hearts. An indulgent weeknight staple for me is ragu bianco (a luscious meat sauce cooked low and slow with white wine and pure milk).

Right now I’m listening to, watching, and reading…

Listening: I listen to The Daily every morning but I also love Modern Love the podcast, it’s so good!

Watching: I am currently watching Shtisel on Netflix. I am also always in the middle of an episode of Seinfeld – it’s the best!

Reading: Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

I get my best work done when…

I get to create a food event that I would love to attend myself; I can be as creative and free with my menu ideas, set-up and location.

My productivity tool/tip is…

When planning a food event/pop-up for over 100 people I often get super overwhelmed by the amount of tasks I need to get through in a day. I know it sounds simple, but writing down lists of things really helps me envision my day and work through my tasks. Also calling someone you’re close to (for me it’s my sister) to talk out your plan helps to make things less daunting and build confidence in getting started.

A philosophy I live and work by is…

Eat beautiful food and drink wine with friends, family and loved ones. Be generous and host meals. You don’t need to spend a lot to throw a lush feast.

Something I’ve learned the hard way is…

Let go! Don’t overthink your work or projects too much, it’s not worth the stress. Obviously work hard to achieve your desired outcomes, but don’t get too heavy about it. I am still learning this and I definitely doubt myself most of the time, but I am working on it!

Loving Ellie’s food and writing? Her fortnightly newsletter, ‘Ellie’s Notebook’ was launched today. Subscribe here for more intimate musings on what she’s cooking, where she’s eating, rough recipes + bits and pieces from her camera roll. Keep up with all the Ellie’s Table happenings on her Instagram here.

Even though she’s been cooking all day, sometimes Ellie’s favourite way to unwind is to cook for friends. Being surrounded by people and food is the best way to relax.  Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

‘I know that sounds like a lot of effort after a big day but for me throwing a little “casual” dinner party with my partner gives me a way to do something other than think about my projects,’ she says. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

[askplumpto-blog]

((SO I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT DAD!LIBERTUS))

((And I had to get it all out and share because GODDAMN I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH!

Inspired by this Art and Fanfic <----- CHECK THEM BOTH OUT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

I spent WAY too much time on this. I spent several days on this, mostly to fix my 3-4am typos and add more things to connect my thoughts.

LOTS of headcanons, spoilers(Kingsglaive/The game Proper/Episode Prompto), my own traditional art, and a bit of angst below the cut.

Also it’s VERY long, sorry orz    Partially because of the art, but still...

First off, I WILL FIGHT SOMEONE IF THEY TRY AND TELL ME THAT LIBERTUS IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO DO THIS. He so would be, even if only for a few minutes before baby Prom’s weight starts getting to his back. lol

Libertus would try all his might to make baby Prom happy. Give him the best childhood he could. Teach the kid how to fight like a Glaive in order to protect himself. He and the other Glaives (Specifically Nyx, Crowe, Pelna, and Luche) would spoil the kid, but he’d never go rotten. He loves his family, and they love him no matter where any of them are from. Prom would love to hear stories from each of their homelands. They were all so different from Insomnia and it would intrigue the little chocobo a lot. Not to mention he loved to see his loved ones faces light up when they talked about their homelands.

Libertus would always bring Prom with him to the training grounds. “Can’t exactly afford a babysitter, Captain. He won’t get into trouble, promise. He just likes to watch anyway.” And he does. Watching everyone warp and use magic is so cool. He would love to take pictures if that was allowed, but it was the only way Drautos would let the kid stay. Confidential stuff, y’know?

Once he hits the early teenage years though, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to come over as often to the Glaive area, but that’s okay because he would be friends with Noct by that point and the two of them would hang and play video games. Plus, he and Libertus would still have their apartment together to see each other at night and before work/school. The two of them would take cooking shifts, and even though they would both be comfortable with their weight Prom would probably learn healthy recipes in order for the two of them to eat right and not gain anymore pounds than they already have. Totally Ignis’ influence btw.

Once Prom signs up for the Crownsguard, Libertus would be so proud! He would tell all the Glaives. “Hey, didja hear? My son’s in the Crownsguard!”  “Prompto made the Crownsguard!” “Did I tell you, my son joined the Crownsguard” 

“YES” Says every single Glaive ever, including Drautos.

He would be so proud, but scared too. His little boy is growing up and protecting the Prince. His little Chocobo. What if he got hurt? Would they make him enough food? Will he be eating right out on his own like that? Will he be okay without his dad? But all chocobos need to leave the nest some time, so Libertus and their Glaive family see Prompto off before he, Noct, Gladio and Ignis set out for Hammerhead. They all say their goodbyes, give him parting gifts and tell him that they will see him after the wedding. Only he doesn’t, because then Kingsglaive happens, and literally only Libertus is alive by the end of that as far as their family goes. (Think about it if you think I’m wrong, but we literally see all of the other’s die or as corpses. Crowe dies first, Pelna is killed saving Luna by a tentacle monster, Luche burned alive from the ring AND fell over the railing, and Nyx gives his life to save Insomnia. Only Libertus is left alive in the end. QAQ )

It wouldn’t happen often, but when Prompto is out with the Chocobros they know when he’s homesick when he decides to cook for the group(usually Galahdan food that Uncle Nyx, Aunt Crowe and Libertus taught him how to make), he’d pop in a CD his Uncle Penla made for him of songs the group loved to listen to, he’d pull out his MBS Malboro keychain he got from his Aunt Crowe (Matching with hers of course) and just hold it in his hand. They usually leave him, keeping an eye on him in case he got really homesick, but he’d just need his little family reminders and remember that he will see them again when his journey was over.

Then Episode Prompto happens and he realizes he’s a Niff and an MT, and then Noct gets abducted by a rock and darkness falls over the country. All the same weight carries from there as the normal game, but now Prom carries the added worry of “How am I going to tell my family? I know they won’t mind that I’m from Niflheim, but.... will they accept an MT?” From here, Prom does the same thing as in the game where he goes off on his own, like Gladio and Ignis, trying his best to help out until Noct comes back.

Libertus's story from here would be the same as Comrades. He would go home to Gahlad only to see that they needed help in Lestallum and he would go back, with the intent of somehow getting a letter to Prompto to let him know where he was... if he was still alive out there. He could only hope because he hears close to nothing about him, and Cor won’t open up as to why the search party for Noct has stopped. It isn’t until one day he arrives in Lestallum from a hunt and he hears some refugees talking about one of Noct’s retinue being in town.

“Yeah, the big guy is here.”/ “The one with the tattoo?”/ “No the blond.”

And Libertus is on the move. His son was alive! He had to see him. Make sure he was okay. Make sure he wasn’t just hearing things he wanted to hear.

---> Left to Right ---> (Sorry for the poor quality. Kinda did this really late at night)

He wouldn’t realize until after they rush to each other to hug that Prom’s been crying. And why shouldn’t he? He hasn’t seen any of his family in almost a year by this point and who knows what happened to them after Insomnia was destroyed, he just lost his best friend to a freaking rock, and his other two friends tend to be on their own. He was literally alone in the world at that moment with no one to turn to and he wasn’t going to go bother Iris, Cindy, Holly or Cid with his problems. And Talcott is too young for Prompto to make him play therapist. So he just goes out, stares at the power plant and lets himself cry. His Dad showing up would be the best thing to happen to him in a long time.

They would hug it out for a long time right in front of the plant, not caring who saw. They were family goddammit, let them have their reunion. Libertus would just hold his boy as close to him as he could, shedding a few tears himself because he was just so glad his little chocobo was alive. He’d notice that Prom had lost weight by that point, whether by not eating, stress, physically overworking his body, whatever it be, it would be a noticeable change after a year of not seeing each other. They would try to catch up and talk, but all their answers were really.... touchy subjects. They check in a the Leville and they talk about what happened in a private room.

“What happened kid? I thought you were with your buddies.”

“I was... we... we’re kinda doing our own thing since Noct’s....”

“What happened to the Prince? That Marshall called off the search party an-”

“We asked him to do that. There’s no finding Noct... not when we know where he is.”

Prompto would explain what happened with Noct and him being in a rock, and that they were waiting for the day he came out to save the world from the eternal darkness. Which is a lot heavier of a task than Libertus thought he was sending his son to assist with. Prom explains what happened to them from the beginning. From learning about the fall of Insomnia, to meeting the Chancellor, to getting their car jacked, to getting the marks of the Astrals for Noct, and to Altissia.

He would stop there, not wanting to talk about his personal journey yet. So he would ask Libertus what happened in the Crown City, but Libertus would pause. He didn’t want to tell Prompto but he should. It was his family just as much as Prompto’s. Libertus would tell him about the treaty and how that came about, he would tell him about Crowe (To which Prompto starts crying again, his Aunt Crowe was gone. Libertus would comfort him but he was hurt too. Crowe was the closest thing he had to a sister), he’d tell him about how he quit the Glaives, feeling betrayed that they would just let Crowe die they way she did, joined the revolution against Insomnia and how ashamed he was of it. He’d tell Prom that most of the Glaives were actually traitors, and from the few that he was able to gather to help in Lestallum he knew some of the names of the traitors. Luche and Drautos included. Prom would be devistated. Luche co-sighed the papers for Prompto’s adoption. How could he be a traitor and a double agent? Prom would ask about Nyx and Pelna, but Libertus wouldn’t know what happened to them. He saw Nyx before he escourted the Princess to safety but he heard no word of what happened to him later.

“It’s those damn Niffs. I know we’re suppose to be working together now to restore power to the land, but it’s the Niffs fault that our family is all messed up like this.”

“.... those Niffs....”

“Well, it is. They’ve gotta be the ones who attacked Crowe an-”

“Dad, I-... I’m a... I’m a Niff....”

Prompto would explain what happened to him after Altissia. Iggy went blind. They lost Luna. They tried to get to Tenebrae, but Ardyn showed up and Prompto got knocked off of the train. He found out he was an MT, and clone of Verstael Besithia, thus making him technically a citizen of Niflheim. Libertus would be quiet for most of this, mostly from the shock of learning this about his kid. They probably didn’t know much about Prom’s past when he was growing up and they only thing they really knew was that his barcode was probably not something people should see. Who knows what people would say if they saw a kid running around with some weird barcode branding on him. Now though, the barcode made sense. It wasn’t some kid traficing thing that possibly Pelna or Nyx would suggest, but instead it was his model number as a clone and part robot.

Not caring about his son’s true past, Libertus would assure Prompto that he was a Lucian through and trough. He was raised in the Crown City and thus was a citizen there. Just because Libertus now knew of Prompto’s past, it wouldn’t change they was he felt about his son. Hell, their whole family was a bunch of ragtag immigrants from all over the continent, adding a Niff isn’t too far off from the rest of them. And being an MT hadn’t shown itself to be troublesome before, why would it now?

They would just have a good old vent session, get everything off of their chests, explain everything that happened to either of them in the time they were apart and finally the two of them would get a good night’s rest, knowing that the other was safe and alive. They would spend a couple days with each other in Lestallum before deciding to go back out and help everyone get back onto their feet, but they would make sure to keep closer in touch as well as meet up when they could, even if it was just for a meal together.

I’m not sure how Comrades ends yet, as far as what happens to Libertus. BUT ASSUMING HE’S ALIVE.

As the light washes over the country, Libertus would know that his son and his friend’s did it. They brought back the light. He waits for his son in Lestallum, knowing his son would go there first to find him. When Prompto finally arrives, he would immediately go in for a hug and a cry. “... Noct... he.. he really saved the day... but...” And Libertus would know then that Noct was dead and he would comfort his 30 year old son. Loss of a friend, of a sibling, was always hard no matter how old.

Prom would stay in Hammerhead and help Cindy with the garage (Probably be a thing together by this point) and Libertus would go home to Gahlad(he’s been meaning to for a long time), but the two of them would meet at least once a month, either going to Hammerhead, Lestallum, or even Gahlad. Libertus would be very excited to show his son around his home country. Show the kid his roots, and put visual places to stories Prompto was told growing up. Prom would probably bring Gladio, Iris, Iggy, Cindy, and/or maybe Talcott with him when he goes to Gahlad too. Show his friends where his father came from, and give Iggy a chance to learn some new recipes or cooking techniques from another country.

AND THAT’S ALL I HAVE SO FAR???

I REALLY WANT TO WRITE THIS AS A FIC, BUT I NEVER ACTUALLY FINISH FICS. RPs are better for me because then I have a partner to plot with and I feel bad for leaving them hanging when it’s my turn so I am able to bust something out, but I never am able to finish writing a full fanfic on my own.

BUT I HAVE TOO MANY IDEAS ABOUT THIS AU. I just wanted to get all of the kinda sad things out of the way because I needed a place where I could come back to it later and maybe work on it some more? Or spark some ideas in other people if they happen to read this. ))

[mitchellkuga]

My Native Tongue

Published by Southwest The Magazine 

I was raised on Hawaiian Pidgin English, a melting pot of a language that reflects the islands’ history, but it took me years to fully appreciate its importance, not just to local culture but my own identity.

I don’t know if there’s a sound that captures what it means to be from Hawaii quite like Hawaiian Pidgin English. Sure, there’s the voice of the beloved Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole, singing coolly over his ukulele about the white sandy beaches and the “colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky.” Or the rhythmic cadences of the ipu, a percussive gourd that soundtracked the hula lessons I attended at the local Y as a child. Or the soothing trance of waves tickling the shore of Ala Moana Beach Park at dusk while my siblings and I waited for Fourth of July fireworks. But nothing reflects Hawaii’s confluence of cultures, its medley of immigrants, quite like my father’s voice barking, “Eh! Das all hamajang!”

He was referring to my tile work, which, to be fair, was all hamajang: messed up, crooked, disorderly. What did he expect? I was a broke Syracuse University student, back home in Honolulu for the summer and working with my dad to fund an expensive semester abroad in London. I didn’t know how to tile a pool, a skill my father had perfected decades ago, during summers helping his own father run the family pool company. Down in the scorching pit of a concrete hole, I saw a different side of my father, whose mode of communicating tended to err on the side of silence. Here, leading a team of laborers from as far as Micronesia and as near as Waipahu, he gave directives, criticisms, and the occasional compliment in the staccato inflection of Hawaiian Pidgin.

“Cherry,” he’d drawl, the few times I managed to do something right. He’d stretch both ends of the word to sound closer to “chair-ray” and employ it when something looked impeccable. I’d savor that verbal pat on the back for hours. Other words were less descriptive. “Try pass the da kine,” he’d say, gesturing toward a pile of tools. Through the powers of clairvoyance—“da kine” is said to derive from “the kind,” a common Pidgin catchall for “whatchamacallit”—I mostly understood what he was asking for. When I returned with the wrong thing, he’d clarify, “No, the da kine da kine!”  

Growing up in Honolulu, I didn’t learn Pidgin so much as absorb it; the language was as inherent to the texture of my upbringing as rubbah slippahs (flip-flops) and Spam. It originated on the sugarcane plantations that proliferated throughout Hawaii during the turn of the 20th century, leading to a burgeoning economy that brought immigrants from China, Japan, Portugal, Korea, and the Philippines despite less than ideal conditions. To communicate, plantation workers fused pieces of their native tongues with Hawaiian and English, creating a dialect to match an unprecedented convergence of cultures yearning to connect.

Though its origins are proudly blue collar, Pidgin in Hawaii is ubiquitous. Brash, sharp, and comically evocative, I heard it most frequently in the taunts hurled on my elementary schoolyard (“You so lolo,” meant someone was stupid), peppering the cadence of my aunty’s garage parties (“Brah, you stay all buss,” meant someone was drunk), and marinating the tongues at barbecues on the beach (“Ho! Get choke grindz” meant there was food, and lots of it). It’s the dialect favored by local comedians, who brandish its self-aware, anti-establishment humor as both identity and weapon: for locals only. It’s how we “talk story,” catching up over plate lunches in between the clinking of Heine-kens. It’s Standard American English dressed in an aloha shirt, trading its monocle for a pair of sunglasses. Construction workers, police officers, and bus drivers all speak it. So did my dentist. It’s not so much a reflection of local culture as the culture itself, as it is one of the fundamental things that makes Hawaii Hawaii.

To the foreign ear, it might sound like botched English, a gross simplification that ignores words like “are” and “is” (“You stay hungry?”), flips sentence structure on its head (“So cute da baby”), and employs colorful slang. “Broke da mouth,” for instance, is used when food is so “‘ono,” or delicious, that your mouth breaks, and “talk stink” means to engage in the odious art of bad-mouthing. But the Pidgin that locals speak today isn’t slang, broken English, or even technically Pidgin—defined by Merriam-Webster as “a simplified speech used for communication between people with different languages”—which might be the most Pidgin thing about Pidgin. Instead, generations of locals (some who speak exclusively in Pidgin) elevated what was once considered hamajang plantation talk into its very own form, replete with its own set of rules. Linguists define it as a creole, a separate language that was recognized as such by the Census Bureau in 2015.

Ididn’t grow up embracing Pidgin. After Pidgin-ing out on job sites, my father would code-switch back to “proper” English at home. Growing up, this fluidity felt central to the language, the almost subconscious ability to distinguish when it was appropriate to wield its power and when to stash it in your back pocket. Not understanding this difference had its consequences. My mother, who grew up on Kauai and moved to the “big city” of Honolulu to attend a private boarding school, recalls her high school history teacher ordering her to stand in a corner and stare at a wall. Her offense? Saying “da kine.”

This stigmatization traces back to those sugarcane plantations: Pidgin as broken English for the uneducated immigrant. The Hawaii State Board of Education has repeatedly attempted to ban Pidgin from the public school system, with former Gov. Ben Cayetano once declaring Pidgin “a tremendous handicap” for those “trying to get a job in the real world.” Growing up, I wore my Pidgin lightly, fearing that indulging in its subversion was a one-way ticket to nowhere, a way of limiting myself to the bottom of that concrete pit.

In the ’90s, a wave of writers and activists fought to combat this perception, sparking something of a Pidgin Renaissance. Through poetry, novels, and essays, writers like Lois-Ann Yamanaka, Lee Cataluna, and Darrell H.Y. Lum positioned the once dismissed dialect as literature. Emerging out of that shift stomped Pidgin theater, Pidgin dictionaries, and a Pidgin Bible, dubbed “Da Jesus Book.” “Talking li’ dat” (“like that”) even managed to penetrate the most resistant institution: academia. At Syracuse University, to my shock, I studied Yamanaka’s seminal novel Blu’s Hanging, which mines the Pidgin of its protagonist to spotlight the underbelly of working class Hawaii. In 2002, the University of Hawaii at Manoa established The Charlene Junko Sato Center for Pidgin, Creole, and Dialect Studies, dedicated to conducting research on “stigmatized dialects.”

A leading voice in the movement is Lee Tonouchi, who’s often referred to as “Da Pidgin Guerilla.” In the late ’90s, as a student at the University of Hawaii, Tonouchi had an epiphany while reading a poem by Eric Chock, who co-founded Bamboo Ridge Press, the leading publisher of Pidgin-centric writing. Titled “Tutu on the Curb”—“tutu” being Hawaiian for grandparent—Chock’s poem is expressive and comical: “She squint and wiggle her nose / at the heat / And the thick stink fumes / The bus driver just futted all over her.”

“I remembah being blown away by da Pidgin,” Tonouchi, who writes and speaks exclusively in Pidgin, says by email. “I wuz all like, ‘Ho! Get guys writing in Pidgin. And we studying ’em in college. Das means you gotta be smart for study Pidgin!’”

Tonouchi started flirting with his native language scholastically, first in his creative writing class, which got him thinking: If I can do my creative stuff in Pidgin, how come I no can do my critical stuff in Pidgin too? Over time, he started writing his 30-page research papers and his entire master’s thesis in Pidgin, “until eventually I just wrote everyting in Pidgin.” Part of the decision was practical. As a kid growing up on Oahu, he felt perplexed by the books he read. People no talk li’ dat, he thought. “Writing how people sounded seemed more real to me,” he says.

Since graduating, Tonouchi has dedicated his life to establishing Pidgin as its own intellectually rigorous and poetically descriptive language. He’s published multiple books of Pidgin poetry and essays, written a play in Pidgin, and co-founded Hybolics, a literary Pidgin magazine that’s short for hyperbolic, used when someone is behaving like a snooty intellectual: “Why you acting all hybolic for?” Perhaps most groundbreaking was an English class called “Pidgin Literature” that he taught at Hawaii Pacific University in 2005. It was regarded as the first of its kind: a college course fully dedicated to fiction and poetry in Pidgin. Yes, brah. He even lectured in Pidgin.

Over the years, Tonouchi has noticed a decline in Pidgin, particularly among the young. “When I visit classrooms as one guest talker, I see that we kinda losing da connection. Simple kine Pidgin vocabularies da kids dunno,” he says. “I tink Pidgin might be coming one endangered language.”

There was a period in my life, after I moved away for college, when I scrubbed Pidgin from my lips, my tongue colonized. “You talk so haole,” my mom would say half-jokingly, employing the Hawaiian word for “Caucasian.” I knew my tongue should loosen, should adapt to the inflection of my aunties and uncles, to the comforts of poke and Mom’s home-cooked shoyu chicken. I was home for the holidays, surrounded by friends and family, but instead my tongue stiffened, intent on proving that I had transcended the confines of the tiny island I called home. I was acting all hybolic.

It took me years to realize that shunning Pidgin meant shunning where I was from, the food I ate, the beaches I roamed, the people I loved. Today, it’s hard for me to fathom a Hawaii without Pidgin. Particularly in rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods, how else would locals, with a single sentence, signal their localness to one another?

On a recent visit home, I went to the beach. Oahu’s North Shore is a disorienting mix of sunburnt tourists and the very local; having lived in New York for more than seven years by that point, I imagined I looked like a cross between the two. As I sat in front of the crashing waves, a tanned surfer with sun-bleached hair approached me apprehensively to ask for a bottle opener. “Try wait,” I said, rummaging through my beach bag.

It was barely perceptible, but his face flashed with the comfort of recognition: He was talking to a kama‘aina, a local. After I handed over the bottle opener on my key ring, he had one more question. “You like one beer?”

[theroadfromustome]

Mile 76

Ok, at the office ostensibly to work, and God knows I need the money, but I feel like I need to take a little bit of time to sift through a whole heap of shit that has happened. And, as I cannot afford or schedule therapy right now, I need to get this out and mull it over somehow.

Ok soooo since I last wrote...

J came to visit. (This was just over a month ago.) We took a day and bashed around my part of town; played games, it felt more like we were investing in what I wanted to do. He was also sensitive, considerate, and we didn’t really have much time where his health or other factors tanked the conversation or invoked dead air. Very promising. I did show him my bedroom, in all its glory, and I fear I pushed intimacy there too far. Exceedingly foolish on my part. He was sweet and went along, and enjoyed himself I’m sure, but in hind sight--that was a NO. He says he’s following my lead wrt sex, but I wonder if he really wants to go that far. I get the sense that sexual enjoyment is something he wants to provide as a gift/service, and he thinks well enough of me to want to do so. He was also affectionate and moderately cuddly, more so than he has been before. He met my mom, and gets points for being sweet and charming to her. (He knows where stepdad is btw, but I was not brave enough to tell him why.) He also offered that we invite her to dinner so she not feel left out--points there. But ALSO, the discussion about it was nice and co-conspiratory and felt good--we were partners in crime making this decision. That was nice, and not the only time such had happened that day. And, when I got too intimate in the bedroom and cried, he held me and listened. An infinitely good man. But I’m still not sure he considers me precious enough to build something long term--he cares for me I know, he’s attracted to me of course, but am I precious to him?  Unknown. I know this: we did not end up taking mom to dinner, and while there had as open a conversation as we ever have. I tried to explain to him that when he stops actively pursuing it confuses and unsettles me; that the radio silence is really bad for my anxiety. He showed me a glimpse of his broken heart, talked about his breakup with his previous lady, and took my hands and said, in the most tender heartfelt of voices “I want to do right by you.” Perhaps the closest thing to a legit declaration I have ever gotten from him, bc he is so careful and reserved. It was amazingly touching, and I thought, good, this is a directive, something to go on. He really REALLY has the best of hearts. But THEN...he didn’t pursue that. His job is eating him alive right now I know. But there has been weeks of almost entirely radio silence--to his credit he has made some small convo which I know is him making an effort, and a mark of affection. He has finally resolved to get out of this abusive job, which is great. And perhaps on the other side of that he could be able to be available to me in the way I need, even on a slow burn. The trouble is that in that radio silence and disconnect...

P stepped in. P, who I thought just wanted to be friends. P, who I have said in the past feels far safer than J, for whom I haven’t (until nowish) had to tell myself to lower the stakes with. P, who I have raced forward with at a rate that is incredibly foolish in the course of about a month. So he’s got some neuroatypicalities and trauma, I think, from past negative experiences. He uses words like “frigid” and “robotic,” and has hangups about physical stuff. So he was giving me mixed signals bc he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to pursue anything romantic with me. But, when pressed, he was most complimentary and we messaged until 4AM. We set up a proper date, in which he taught me self defense, and I taught him swing dance. He is a natural and brilliant and supportive teacher. I’m not exactly kicking butt any time soon, but he makes me feel like I could, make me feel as though I could be capable of more than I realized; hence the list of ambitions. That partnership--that being able to glance across the dance frame or over the punching mat he is holding for me and look into his eyes and know that he is just *there* for me...that is...so good for me. SO good. He is a consummate partner, and I fear I am coming to rely on him too much. He understands and upholds my need to feel equal; engages in trades (music for music, combat for swing, massages for... other things). He makes a ridiculous amount of money, so when he spends on me it is one time when it simply cannot be equal. I begin to worry about other things too. He went away with his dad to a conference in Finland for a week and wrote me the loveliest letters every day while away. He was back for three days (which evenings we spent together and I even was able to sleepover the last and he made me breakfast...) and then is now in NY for a week with his family. He can’t write as much there bc it is family time, and I fully get that. My life continues and feels humdrum here--esp bc I’m not really working at Job #1 bc I’d hoped to be working in promotion at Job #2 by now. But more on that below... He’s being so active and outdoorsy, telling me how amazing his cousins are...and he’s not *here* I guess, to reassure me in person... For whatever reason, I’m drowning in feelings of inadequacy, and I fear, for the first time, that an expiration date has been created here. We agreed initially ‘one day at a time,’ but both had trouble keeping to that. We have trips already planned two months out (he’s taking me to NYC to see Hamilton!!!!), and talk long term all the time. Let’s remember folks, we have been romantic only A MONTH. Another good occasion for this gif:

But he seems to feel the same depth of emotion (impetuous though it is) that I do, that feeling of safety and ultimate support. Could this be a chance (down’ the road) for an unconditional love relationship with a romantic partner? Could such a thing exist for me? I worry bc he is so inherently capable; a genius and regimented; he owns a house, cooks, works out regularly, keeps himself to a diet, is a great planner, not to mention the combat; he’s a natural at swing and most anything else he puts his mind to. He’s also crazy smart, eloquent and witty; well-versed, well-read, and his baggage is not as incommodious as mine. I hate the idea of lying to him (a good sign!) and so I told him (where I was not brave enough to tell J) about stepdad and that situation. I feel for the first time (in an Austenian sense) how tainted I am by association. Most people (say, his excellent family) cannot stomach that sort of a thing in any sense, nor wish to connect themselves. He says he is not bothered, but it makes me angry and sick to think about it. Blegh. Just another of those bits of baggage I bring which make me so difficult to be with--the child and the legal marital status being others, among many... So far I have felt decently comfortable being myself and not feeling like I have to change for him (that bbaaaaaaad instinct). But lately I have felt as though I need to start working out or I cannot keep to his standard. It is not that I don’t want to be active, and I know the benefits, but working out as rigorously as he does is not something that feels like it comes from me; rather something I feel I must do for him. And the instant I start feeling like I have to behave a certain way or he will walk is the instant the warning bells start. I have the feeling and I want to stop it; I’m pretty sure it lies in me, and I want to understand it so I can stop it. I will never be as infinitely good, capable, vigorous or whole as he is. And if he wants to attempt to love me in spite of this...I just need to square with that. I want to have the strength to feel good in myself without his support. I want to feel worthy and equal. What can I bring to him that he doesn’t already have? And is it enough? When I tally our assets I always feel as though mine are wanting. He tells me I make him happy, happier than anything. But will that fade? Is it enough? Bc by my calculations it simply doesn’t add up.

“...the day that I find, suddenly I’ve run out of secrets, suddenly I’m not always on his mind...”

So, guiding questions:

1- Am I being foolish rushing into this? Am I trying to convince my heart to go where it simply cannot yet and is not ready to go?

2- What is the source of this feeling of inadequacy and how can I halt it? 

3- Is there an expiration date? How would I feel about that?

In the midst of all this T is proving tricky to shake. My fault as much as anything. I find myself crazy susceptible to his physical prowess (he’s well-versed in the art of physical intimacy) and he blindly praises me with a worshipful devotion. It’s addictive I admit. P will be more of a slow burn in terms of physical intimacy; but if we get all the way there (which slow burn is really a good healthy thing for me), I suspect it could be the sort of thing that makes me cry, in the best of ways. The contemplation already makes me more sentimental than I can say. And that’s the thing; when P gets back in town and I can look into his eyes again--when he’s there on the other end of the dance frame...holding my hand and holding me up, I will feel safe again. Loved, secure, and in no doubt. I have yet to feel inadequate when he is there like that. Because he doesn’t look at me and see flaws. And he is so pragmatic and unruffled. A good attitude for me. He is a “problem solver” as he likes to say, and nearly everything has a simple, logical solution. That’s a lovely grounding thing for me. It give me steel and makes me think things like “You don’t have demonstrable skills? Then acquire some.” And he makes it seem simple, achievable. He believes in me. And he tells me so. And he is committed to getting this thing we’ve got right. All good good things. So I have faith that things will return to normal when he’s home. 

Another point of insecurity for me atm is that I await news of this job which I had hoped to hear of before now. The week that they gave me is almost up, and I cannot help but feel that if they wanted to offer it to me they would have by now. Also, feeling anxious about all I have to learn.

And on THAT note, I do feel somewhat better and need to get some actual paid work in. Hopefully I will muse more before too much longer.

Non sequitur: In the soundtrack of P (he is sharing metal with me) there is so far: “Heaven Help My Heart,” “You’re Awful” and “Two Sleepy People”--because we cannot seem to get enough sleep in each other’s company--texting or cuddling. Which is, in his simple heartfelt language: “nice.”

[iv-kplpt]

bodyguard au

plot summary: charlie’s a daughter of new york’s mayor. she moves to gotham; and needs a bodyguard. cue oswald cobblepot. or: don’t write during a ~12h long depression/anxiety attack. ~7,8k words rated m for some vague nsfw because of course, charlie and oz have a very sexual relationship

When Crispin - her father - became the mayor for the second time, she decided it's high time to leave the family nest. She didn't have any problems with her family - she loved them and they loved her; but she was young and wanted to see more of the world. To try truly living all by herself.

"I want to move out of New York.", she told her parents one evening, during a family dinner; and Crispin was first to respond, sighing sadly.

"Did I really ruin this city like my opponents predicted me to?" he asked sadly and she laughed, shaking her head. The city thrived during his terms of office; he was a good man, who cared for his people and was determined to make America's second most obnoxious city a place where everyone decent would feel at home.

"Of course not, dad, you're great at your job!" she assured him, and her mother nodded vigorously. "I just think it's time for me to become more independent, you know?"

"Do you have any particular place in mind, angel?" Eleanor - her mother - asked and Charlie nodded.

"Gotham City." she said and Crispin's face dropped.

Gotham had... Peculiar reputation. A masked vigilante was keeping the streets clean; it was the home of two of America's most well-known prisons; and its mayor was Hamilton Hill, one of her father's most staunch opponents.

"Why Gotham?" Crispin asked tearfully. "Of all the possibilities... Why Gotham?"

"Well, maybe I just want to fix your local PR image." she said with a wink. "I dunno, it just... Feels right."

"You are an adult, so there is nothing we can do to stop you..." Eleanor said with a sigh. "But maybe... Rethink this."

"I've done this many times already... And I see no cons. C'mon, I'm a big girl."

"Yes, but for us you'll forever be a kid." Crispin stated tenderly and she groaned quietly. "But alright, this is your life and I respect your decision. We'll get you a bodyguard."

"I have a bodyguard."

"A full-time one." Crispin said firmly. "And one that knows Gotham. I... Insist."

"Yeah." she said, thinking about how Gotham is filled with people like the Joker and Killer Croc. "That's... Probably a good idea."

"I have Bruce Wayne's private number. I will call him in the morning, see if he can recommend someone..."

"Bruce is still single." her mother said in a casual tone and Charlie turned her head to stare her down. "What? He's a wonderful young man! Very, very charming, very handsome..."

"I know, I've met him." she said anxiously. "But I'm not moving for him. I'm moving for myself."

"I'm just saying..." her mother said with a wink. "I'm sure he'll take you under his wings."

"I'll give him your regards." Crispin added and Charlie groaned even louder.

Bruce Wayne did have a recommendation for them - he personally vouched for his childhood friend, who recently returned to Gotham from Europe and had been making a name for himself as a bodyguard.

"I've arranged a meeting." Crispin informed her, as she was browsing houses for sale. "He will meet us here next week."

"I haven't even bought a house yet."

"He knows Gotham like the back of his hand. Maybe he'll recommend something."

"That's a lot of to expect from a bodyguard, you know."

"I want my daughter's bodyguard to be reliable in every aspect." Crispin said firmly and she laughed. "...I'm being too much, don't I?"

"Maybe a bit." she admitted, closing her laptop and putting it away. "Don't worry so much, it'll be fine. I'm just a daughter of the mayor, not the president."

"...yet."

"...well, at least remember to tell the press it was my idea." she giggled. "Drag me down with you. You already did that once, with that punching bag, remember?"

(She once gave him a punching bag, with printed out photos of his least favorite right-wing politicians as a birthday gift; and he told everyone about it.)

"Do you still get those death wishes?"

"Yeah, but I don't care. Those are just words. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never break me."

"Ah, I taught you well." he said tenderly, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Attagirl."

The meeting with a man recommended by Bruce Wayne took place one week later; they met him in their living room.

(He travelled all the way to New York just for this meeting. He seemed to be determined to make a good first impression.)

He showed up about half an hour early; her parents were supposed to be home soon and she was still in her bathrobe, putting dressing up off, when the intercom buzzed.

"Miss Charlie?" she heard the voice of Thomas, one of three receptionists that were working in the building where her family lived. "There is a man to see you-"

"Right." she said with a sigh. "Let him in, we've been expecting him. I'll let my parents know."

"Naturally."

She hastily headed to her bedroom and put some clothes on; she was just brushing her hair, when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door still holding her hairbrush; the first thing she saw was a yellow tie.

"You're early." she said, looking up, her eyes meeting her potential bodyguard's. "Mister..."

She paused for a moment; both because she realized her father never gave her his name, and because the young man was distractingly handsome.

"Cobblepot." he said eventually in a polite tone. "Oswald Cobblepot."

"You're early." she repeated, still staring at him, squeezing the handle of her hairbrush.

"I realize and I'm terribly sorry." he said apologetically, though she could see amusement in his eyes. "But in case of potential contracts like this I try to show up early to spend some time alone with the client first. I was sure I informed your father of this."

"Well, he never told me." she muttered, stepping aside. "In any case, please, come in. I'm... Charlie."

"So I've been told." he said, visibly amused, taking his coat off; she closed the door behind him and finally put the hairbrush down.

"Do you want tea? Or coffee? Or... Anything?" she asked, feeling ridiculously nervous.

(She always felt this way around people she found attractive. Good thing New York political scene was filled with bland people; never gave her an opportunity to embarass herself or her family.)

"Tea. Earl Grey, if it's an option."

"My mother loves it. We... Have a reserve." she muttered, turning around and heading to kitchen; he followed.

"I don't bite, you know." he said suddenly and she almost dropped the cup she was holding. "Am I making you anxious?"

"What if I say yes?"

"Then I won't take the job, because my clients are supposed to feel at ease with me around." he said very seriously and she turned around, absentmindedly noting how tall he is.

"It's nothing personal, mister Cobblepot. I... Always feel nervous around people I don't know." she lied through her teeth and he raised his brows. "...really."

"With all due respect... You're a terrible liar." he said sadly, shaking his head. "What can I do to make you feel comfortable?"

(not being so damn attentive and handsome would be a good fucking start.)

"Give me time." she said instead, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "Come on. Let's sit down. And talk. Like normal people do."

They did just that - and with time, she felt more at ease with him around; in fact she felt so at ease she never noticed half an hour had passed. And then an hour. And another one - and her parents still weren't home.

(Oswald was a good listener, and a very eloquent speaker; one habit of his she instantly fell in love with was using his hands to convey emotions. He had beautiful hands, scarred here and there; his fingers were long and slim and looking at his hands she simply thought yes.)

He told her a bit about himself; he had a very colorful past, and seemed to be a man of many talents. Good at hand to hand combat, decent with firearms, good cook, silver tongue, well-versed in literature and art.

"So, a Swiss army knife of a person." she said with a sigh. "That's... Impressive."

"And useful." he added. "So, miss... We've been talking for about two hours now. How do you feel about me?"

(are you single? please say yes.)

"Good." she said instead, reaching for her phone. "But what about your personal life?"

"I'm married to my job." he replied, and she couldn't tell whether he's serious or joking. "Meaning... No distractions. You would be my top priority, always."

(Her brain was quick to take it out of the professional context.)

"Alright, assuming my parents ever do get home... I'd say you're hired." she muttered, texting her dad. "I still have yet to buy a home though."

"Crest Hill." he replied instantly. "It's a suburb, a very safe, prestigious one. Clean air, lots of green, Wayne Manor nearby... Nothing bad ever happens there, and it's still close enough to the city proper."

"You really do know Gotham." she said impressed and he smiled. "Alright, I'm sold. I think I saw an offer on the internet..."

"And I know exactly whose offer it is." he said hastily and she tilted her head. "I can guarantee everything's in tip-top shape."

"You sound almost desperate to get me to move to Gotham." she said jokingly; and before he replied, her parents got home.

"We've been stuck in a traffic." they announced cheerfully and Charlie sighed, not believing a single word they were saying.

Oswald walked up to them to greet them; and even though they were talking quietly, she could hear him almost charming the pants off them both.

"So, I take everything's settled?" Crispin asked, walking into the room. "Charlie?"

"Uhm, I thought you want to talk to him first-"

"Well, you spent some time with him and you're fine, aren't you?" father interrupted her. "So?"

"You were the skeptical one, dad!"

"But I'm not anymore!" Crispin announced, sitting in his favorite chair. "Well, I'm trying to be more optimistic. Do you want me to look further or-"

"No, no." she interrupted him. "This one's alright. I... Think I like this guy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." she said firmly. "Also, he was recommended by Wayne... A man who truly has his shit together. Finding me a bodyguard is off the list."

"Well, glad to hear it." Crispin said, visibly relieved. "Mister Cobblepot!"

"Yes?" Oswald asked politely, entering the room, Eleanor - who was giggling like a highschooler - right behind him.

"You are hired, young man." Crispin said, and Oswald's eyes lit up. "Follow me... Let's talk business."

Oswald and Crispin disappeared in the latter's home office, and Eleanor looked her daughter in the eye.

"I trust him." she announced, and Charlie tilted her head. "Do you trust my expertise?"

"You're my mother. Of course I trust you."

"He's charming, capable, and very devoted to his job. You'll be safe with him, and I will be able to sleep peacefully, knowing someone like young Oswald is watching after my child." Eleanor stated calmly and Charlie blinked a few times, her eyes suddenly very wet. "Oh, angel..."

"It's nothing." Charlie muttered, fighting off the urge to cry. "I love you."

"And I love you."

*** The process of moving went remarkably smooth - but not without some interest from the press. Everybody wanted to know why is mayor's young daughter - who's been described as charming and dazzling and simply delightful by everyone she ever crossed paths with - suddenly abandoning New York for the sake of Gotham, city pulsating with danger that loved night as fiercely as sharks love blood.

She bought her house from the last living member of the Crowe family, who decided it's high time to cut ties with Gotham; she redecorated and furnished it, minding the room that was going to become Oswald's lair; and before she knew it, the day had come and she was saying goodbye to her parents and making an excited post on her instagram.

(She had a lot of followers. Some friends - but generally, a lot of strangers, very interested in her personal life and everything that came with being the only child of a relatively well-known politician.)

During that time - between signing the contract and moving in - she've seen Oswald few more times; she made few short trips to Gotham, and he served as her tour guide each time. She really started to feel at ease around him; his presence was calming. She felt safe around him.

(There was still a matter of her finding him irresistibly hot - but she was sure she'll find a way out of this mess.)

And so a new chapter of her life began, just her, her home and her bodyguard, who seemed to be remarkably interested in her well-being.

"I can take care of myself, you know." she complained during her first proper evening in Gotham, as he was closely watching her in the kitchen. "You're supposed to make sure I don't die, you don't have to babysit me."

"Uh-uh." he said, as she almost cut herself with a knife. "Are you alright?"

(His concern seemed to be disturbingly genuine.)

"I'm a big girl, Oswald. I can take a little cut."

"Naturally." he agreed politely; his phone rang in his pocket and he kept looking at her with his calm, piercing eyes that always made her feel almost naked. "May I..?"

"You don't need my permission to pick up a phone, you know." she said with a nervous smile.

He only nodded.

"Bruce!" he said enthusiastically, still not taking his eyes off her. "Yes, yes I am. Oh, it's the mayor's daughter. No, not this mayor's, I wouldn't work for him." he said with disgust and she giggled, knowing he's talking about Hamilton Hill, the mayor of Gotham. "Yes, that one. Thank you again for that commendation, by the way- oh? Yes, of course."

For a moment he put the phone down.

"Bruce Wayne cordially invites you over for tea." he said politely. "Tomorrow."

"Alright, I have a grand total of zero plans anyway." she said with a shrug. "Give him my regards."

"Well, you heard the lady." Oswald said, after resuming the paused conversation. "Yeah, we will be there. Mmmm-hm. Give Alfred my regards. Tatty bye!"

He looked and sounded so relaxed, talking to Wayne; as opposed to how attentive and vigilant and serious he was around her.

(he said we.)

It felt odd, having someone who was not a close friend or a relative in her kitchen, watching her every move; and she was sure falling asleep knowing he's in the house will be even weirder.

(Though she wondered what is he like in the morning. Groggy? Peppy? And does he sleep on his stomach, or side, or back? Does he snore? So many questions.)

She was sure of one thing though - she liked watching him. He was easy on the eyes, with his rugged charm that worked ridiculously well with his custom made, elegant clothes. She'd pay to see him in something casual though.

"Do you only ever wear suits?" she blurted out suddenly and he raised his brows politely.

"Pardon?"

"I was wondering if you have any casual clothes, that's it." she shrugged, trying to play it off.

"I have clothes for every occasion." he replied politely and suddenly she decided she really wants to know what his pajamas look like.

Her first night in Gotham was a bit weird; mostly because she decided to give in to her hedonistic urges. Her bodyguard was hot, and it's been a long while since her last time with anybody; but he was also on the same floor and she could hear his quiet footsteps outside. And she was never a quiet type.

With her one hand tightly pressed against her mouth and her other hand between her legs she let go, closing her eyes and drowning in vivid imagination.

She woke up at an ungodly hour; and Oswald woke her up. He didn't do it on purpose; but his general presence so close to her bedroom was unnerving enough to make her wake up, wrap herself in a blanket and walk out, still half asleep.

The door to his bedroom was open and she absentmindedly peeked in; blinked a few times and felt a sudden wave of heat wash over her body.

There was something mesmerizing in the sight of him doing push ups shirtless, as she could see his arms and back and flashes of torso, marked with scars here and there. He had a beautiful body; and she couldn't take her eyes off him.

He realized she's there after a couple of minutes.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked apologetically, getting up and wiping sweat off his face with a nearby towel; she had to fight off an urge to touch him.

"Yes. No." she corrected herself instantly, yawning quietly. "I need to get used to it, I suppose. To you."

"Is everything... Alright?"

"Yeah." she muttered, looking away and feeling the redness on her face; she blushed easily. Damned redhead genes. "I'll... Go back to bed."

"Yeah." he replied, looking at her with a mix of concern and amusement. "You do that. Do you want me to wake you up?"

"Do this if I won't get up till noon." she replied, already hurrying down the corridor, feeling as if her heart is about to jump out of her chest.

It took her about an hour to fall asleep again; and when Oswald woke her up by gently knocking at her door she woke up desperately craving a cold shower.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked politely, as she shuffled past him, yawning and brushing her hair away from her face; she was wearing an old, very oversized tee from her father's first campaign. It reached her knees and she absentmindedly wondered if he can tell she's not wearing any underwear.

"Mmmmhmmm." she muttered in response, slowly walking down the stairs, desperate to get some food. "Christ. I hate mornings."

"It's noon." he pointed out, as she opened the fridge and stared at its contents. "Do you need... Help?"

"Yeah." she said, giving up and sitting down on the nearest chair. "I'm useless for an hour after waking up. Do you even get paid for this?"

"I am, actually." he said, walking past and briefly brushing her shoulder with his fingertips. "Your father told me everything about your habits... Everything he knew about, that is."

"Did he tell you I talk in my sleep?"

"He did." Oswald confirmed, standing with his back turned to her. "Don't worry, I've had chatty clients before. I can tell the difference between someone talking in their sleep and calling for help."

"I wasn't doubting it."

"I've also been informed of your dietary habits." he added and she groaned. "I know a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, watching him, remembering the sight of the muscles on his back. "Did he show you my baby pictures?"

"No, but I'm sure they'd be heartcrushingly adorable." he said with a surprising smirk, setting a plate in front of her, and it took her a long moment to remember how to breathe. "Will that suffice?"

"Who needs a cook, when you're on hand." she muttered, glancing at the most perfect french toasts he made and he snickered in response and her heart skipped a beat at this sound and the way he slightly squinted his eyes and briefly bared his teeth.

(His teeth looked sharp, especially the canines.)

They met Bruce Wayne this afternoon; he took them in the patio of his enormous mansion. Oswald greeted him like an old friend he was; warmly, honestly, enthusiastically.

It was all gone, replaced with stoic professionalism when he turned around to introduce Charlie; but Bruce Wayne only waved his hand and shook his head.

"We've met already." he told Oswald. "During... Crispin's first campaign, isn't it?"

"Correct." she confirmed, smiling nervously. "But I was a different person back then."

"Yes, I can tell." he muttered, briefly glancing at her hand, where an engagement ring used to be back when they first met.

"What brings you to Gotham, Charlie?" he asked, after they sat down and his butler - Alfred, Charlie remembered - was pouring them jasmine tea.

"I want to have a life of my own." she said shortly, stirring her tea and inhaling the aroma. "Also I'm sure dad could use some positive PR here."

"Ah, being unable to escape from the family business... How painfully relatable." Bruce said with a smirk and Oswald snorted quietly. "Well, do let me know if you'll ever need something. Your father has my full support and I'd do everything to see Hamilton Hill squirm with you around."

"I can't believe he still runs this town." Oswald muttered, turning a biscotti between his fingers. "When will someone replace this guy?"

"Who knows." Wayne said with a mysterious smile. "Maybe sooner than later."

"He's been the mayor since... Forever." Oswald said, turning his head to face Charlie. "He was the mayor when we were kids. And it was... What, twenty years ago? Huh, Bruce?"

"Yeah, about that."

"My father was this close to replacing him." Oswald muttered suddenly, absentmindedly crushing the biscuit with his fingers. "This. Close."

"I know, Oz." Wayne said quietly, and heavy silence fell; Charlie nervously sipped her tea, wondering what exactly are they talking about.

They spent rest of the afternoon on pleasant conversation about nothing and everything; Bruce's butler chimed in a few times, and he seemed to enjoy bickering with Oswald. They both had sharp wits, and were not afraid to use them; and Bruce and Charlie stared in silence.

(Oswald's tongue was sharp like a razor and his smile was theatrically, infuriatingly condescending. She glanced at him dreamily, her chin resting against the back of her hand, her elbow on the table; she wanted to wipe this smile off his face, preferably by kissing him.)

"He's always been a show-off." Bruce muttered to her eventually, and she giggled, still staring at Oswald. "I'm glad to see this hasn't changed."

"That's the first time I see him so... At ease." she said quietly, glancing at Wayne. "He's very prim and proper around me."

"He's a professional. But give him some time. Once he realizes he can afford it... He's going to loosen up."

"You know, I can hear you two just fine." Oswald said suddenly. "I know you're gossiping about me."

"Of course we are." Bruce said nonchalantly, as Charlie's cheeks turned red. "You are an incredible gossip material, you know."

"Oh, I do. I have the looks, charisma and an aura of mystery... I'm the perfect gossip material." he said with a self-satisfied grin and Charlie suddenly realized he's very probably very aware of the effect he has on her.

But - as the time flew and she was slowly settling down - neither of them brought this subject up. There simply was no good way to do it; so they kept on living. Oswald was slowly loosening up around her, and she was begrudginly fostering her growing crush on him, only really letting go during the night, letting her imagination run wild, project all of her wants onto him, or: the imaginary version of him.

It wasn't just the two of them all the time; she was slowly building her new social life. She gave an interview, and quickly found common grounds with two journalists that were the question asking part; and Oswald personally vouched for both of them, assuring her they are both ethical and earnest.

(He knew both of them from his previous contracts; and he was quick to assure her he's not going to sell them any information, any secrets, any "spicy stories about what kinds of underwear can be found in the laundry bin" and her face turned red after she started to frantically try and figure out whether he somehow came across her more scandalous lingerie... And if he liked it if yes.)

Being a daughter of Crispin Schiller-Aberdeen, Charlie was seen as exotic curiosity of sorts - so she received quite a lot of invitations. She was very selective; but she did make an appearance at few fancy balls and fundraisers and dinner parties, her bodyguard always few steps behind, watching like a hawk, waiting for someone to slip, to make a wrong gesture. Most people ignored him; they were used to the presence of bodyguards. Some tried to chat him up, mostly old friends; but only mayor Hill manage to get an actual reaction out of him.

It took Charlie about a month to meet her father's loudest critic. She only had this doubtful pleasure once, years earlier, and back then she was in company of her family and fiance; this time it was just her and Oswald behind her, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for potential danger.

"I'm going to talk to the mayor." she informed him suddenly and he groaned. "Oh, come on. He's not going to kill me... At least not in front of the people."

"Believe it or not, but I don't like him." he muttered, as they were walking in Hill's direction. "Slimey bastard."

"Oh, Oswald. Be nice." she whispered, blindly reaching behind and very gently brushing the back of his hand with her fingertips; that was actually the first time she touched her and it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. "It's my show, after all."

He hadn't replied; but she could feel his presence behind her, as she approached Hamilton Hill, smiling brightly, glass of champagne in hand.

"Good evening, mayor Hill!" she greeted him cheerfully and he actually winced. "Long time no see!"

"Miss Schiller-Aberdeen, what a... Magnificent surprise." he muttered as she was staring him down. "How's your... Father?"

"Thriving." she replied nonchalantly, taking a sip. "He sends his regards."

Hill sighed and reached out to put his hand on his shoulder - a normal gesture, that happened many times, with many people.

"Don't." Oswald suddenly said firmly, stepping between her and the mayor. "Do not."

"Oh. Cobblepot." the mayor winced again, trying to get past him. "You and your conspiracy theories again?"

"She's under my protection, mayor." he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Hill's face. "And this is the closest I can allow you to be."

"This is insane!" the mayor claimed, rolling his eyes theatrically. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Oh, you know." she said, nervously glancing at tense Oswald. "Contract details. Some bad blood."

Before any of them said anything else, Oswald - without a word - turned around and walked away. After a short moment of ignoring Hill's blabbering she hurried after him.

"Oswald!" she called out nervously as they reached an empty corridor.

He suddenly stopped and she bumped into him. He turned around and put his hands on her arms and looked her in the eye.

"Stay away from Hill." he said firmy and her heart was beating so fast and hard she was sure she's about to have a heart attack.

(His face was few inches from hers and she fought off the urge to lean in and kiss him. He looked angry and tense and pained and so, so beautiful.)

"Alright." she said softly and he sighed. "I will, I swear."

"I... Apologize." he muttered eventually, letting her go, taking few steps back and running his fingers through his hair. "That was highly unprofessional."

"I don't mind, you know." she said hesitantly. "Just... Be honest with me from now on. I prefer it. I'm not made of glass."

"No." he said carefully, looking at her in a weird, almost tender way. "Whatever you're made from... It most certainly is not glass."

Their almost-moment had been ruined by an unfamiliar voice, coming from behind them."

"Oswald?" the voice said. "I'll be damned!"

"Hello, Louise." he said, instantly turning his attention to the newcomer. "It's been a while."

The woman's name was Louise, Louise McDonagh. Oswald used to work for her, few years back, when she was just starting her law career and was working on a case against one of Gotham's many gangsters; and they seemed to be good friends.

She seemed nice and sharp, but she did ruin a moment.

"Oswald..." Charlie said eventually, and he instantly turned his attention back to her. "I'm tired. Let's go home."

"Naturally. Louise..."

"I'll call you." she said, waving her hand. "I still have your number. Go, take care of her. ...and maybe keep her away from Hill for the time being."

"That's my plan, yes." he said with a faint smile. "See you 'round, Lou."

"See ya."

"Someone important?" Charlie asked as they were on their way to her car.

"Assistant district attorney. She works under Dent."

"That's... Not what I meant."

"...oooh." he said after a short pause. "Well, she's a... Friend, I suppose. But I'm married to my job."

She nodded silently; he opened the door for her and she sank into the backseat, sighing quietly.

Only after starting the car he cleared his throat.

"Lou's not my type anyway." he added quietly and she looked at the back on his head.

"Who is your type though?"

He looked at her in the rear mirror.

"You don't have to know." he said finally and she felt disappointed; she was expecting another answer.

(She was hoping for him to say you.)

*** Her crush on him didn't go away during the following month, in fact - it only got worse. She often found herself enamored with small, irrelevant things - the way he'd tilt his head very slightly when listening to her, the way he'd wistfully raise his brows, or the way he'd help her get out of the car. Small things.

And the fact he finally really loosened up around her didn't help; he'd sometimes engage her in a battle of wits or sting her pride with a snarky comment or make fun of how short she is without her heels. It all felt good - like being around a good friend - but was also creating a fake image of closeness.

She also discovered he looks very hot when he's being an asshole. There was something in his eyes, some mischievous spark; something in the way his lips curled slightly. Something in the way he tilted his head and squinted slightly.

(One morning he firmly refused to make her scrambled eggs until she said pretty please. That was disturbingly hot as well; not the fact he was refusing to make her breakfast, but the fact he made her practically beg. She spent rest of the day rethinking her life.)

Eventually the tension that had been building up reached its peak; but instead of crashing and burning, things went in an interesting direction.

It happened about three months after she moved to Gotham, and their contract began; three months of accidental touches, cold showers, loosening up slowly and furtive, infatuated glances no one else was supposed to notice.

Three months of getting off with one hand covering her mouth; that one night she decided she's a big girl after all, surely she can control herself and just be quiet.

Turns out - she could not. Or maybe she was quiet and it was a matter of timing; a matter of him wanting to ask her something and knocking at her door and thinking she simply didn't hear him, because it wasn't a late hour.

She opened her eyes at some point; and froze, one hand between her legs, the other one cupping her breast, as Oswald was standing in the doorway, staring.

He wasn't disgusted. Or appaled. Or shocked. He simply... Looked at her and her body and probably could hear the sounds stuck in the air between them.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked and she blinked.

"W-what?" she asked feverishly. "What?"

"I heard my name, you know." he said, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning against the doorframe, still staring at her. "On your tongue and on your fingers..."

"What if I told you to get out?" she asked, her heart pounding. Oswald snickered.

"I would get out." he stated lazily. "But is this what's going to happen?"

She hesitated only for a moment.

"No." she almost whispered. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked without thinking and her bodyguard raised his eyebrows.

"How about I show you instead?" he asked quietly and she nodded and rest of the night was a blur, an avalanche of sensations.

(He turned out to be an asshole in bed as well; but she didn't mind, she didn't mind at all.)

"Now that was unprofessional." she muttered quietly, lying on her side with her back to him and he only chuckled in response. "Good Lord."

"Mmmm?" he asked, brushing her shoulder with his scruffy chin; she turned around to face him, their faces  inches away from each other.

"I won't tell anyone." she said hesitantly, trying to ignore the fact just how much she enjoys the simple sensation of lying right next to him, naked, vulnerable, safe. "Okay? I'll keep it... To myself."

"I... Appreciate it." he said carefully and for a moment she thought there is something in his eyes, something disappointed, something- "But next time... Just tell me. I'm always happy to help."

(The weird spark was gone, replaced with the usual glimmer.)

"Next time I'm locking my door." she muttered and he scoffed; but then he laughed and kissed her one last time and got up.

"How's your back?" she asked as he was picking his clothes up. "I uh... Kind of went overboard with the scratching."

"I like to bleed out a bit from time to time." he said nonchalantly. "I'd be more worried about your bedsheets."

"I have a washing machine."

"And I know how to get blood out of the fabric. We'll manage."

And they never talked about it again - until it happened again, two weeks later. And again.

Suddenly they became very physical with each other. Oh, they were perfectly proper in public - nobody would ever guess anything. Not Louise, not the journalists, not Bruce Wayne, not her parents. He was polite and a bit stiff and official; but in private he'd sometimes turn to her with that weird spark in his eye and say "Hey, doll." Or she'd ask him to help her out with something, biting her lip and tilting her head. Or he'd steal a kiss from her or she'd casually inform him she's not wearing any underwear (and hadn't been for the past ten hours, her casual coffee date with Vicki Vale included).

They did that a lot - and they never really... Talked about it. Because there was no "they" to speak of - they were a sudden string of one night stands, some very thin strings attached.

(Even if she simply enjoyed his company. And personality. And being in his arms. And listening to his voice. And hearing his heartbeat and making him laugh and existing next to him.)

It felt like with every occurence, her emotions for Oswald were becoming more and more complicated - but she promised him she'll keep it a secret, and so she had nobody to complain to, nobody to consult.

*** It was all very enjoyable, up until the moment she realized she - accidentally - fell in love. She left her crush unattended for a few days, and it accidentally turned into something bigger.

(He was snarky and attentive and beautiful and was making her feel alive.)

Then it became... Slightly less enjoyable. She knew sex and love are not inherently connected, and that sometimes it's good to enjoy the physicality with no emotional attachement - but she couldn't help but mix those two up. Around Oswald, she was vulnerable; willingly, because she knew he wouldn't take an advantage of it.

(He was making her feel safe and cared for and beautiful.)

And it was all confusing; her heart and body wanted the same, but only one of them could get it. Beggars can't be choosers, she decided; if sex was all she could get - fine.

(She could pretend. She was a decent actress; and if she closed her eyes and listened to their breaths and moans, she could almost believe they are in love. She could lie to herself, for a moment; and it was a very well-crafted lie, based on gentle kisses and caresses.)

At that point, Oswald already knew about her short lived engagement; Hamilton fucking Hill told him one evening. Or: he asked her what happened to her ring, to her wonderful partner, to their plans?

She told him to mind his own business and Oswald politely warned him to not try anything. He seemed to be unbothered; why would he be bothered? Everyone had a past, and it's not like she was cheating on anyone with him.

(He did look at her slightly differently though; but she couldn't describe the difference. Something in his eyes had changed; and the first night after he found out she was very determined to make this thing go away. To make him look at her same way he did before finding out.)

So - she had fallen in love, and only had sex as a substitute, only sex and brief moments after, when she could close her eyes and pretend. With his hand in her hair and his arms around her and their breaths dancing together and their heartbeats mixed - she could pretend.

It went on like this for a few months; few hours of fun, no emotional strings attached, back to normal, back to friendly bickering.

And then he took a bullet for her.

It's not like she forgot who she is during those months - the world never let her forget. People demanded her opinion on various issues, wished her death, were claiming she's their role model. Sometimes strangers would approach her on the street and Oswald would then intervene, always vigilant, always concerned.

(He sent quite a few creeps to the hospital, while getting only few bruises himself; she'd later kiss those bruises, same way he was kissing her freckles.)

But one day, someone actually tried to kill her; it was another fundraiser and she was enjoying herself and chatting with Louise and Vicki and he was nearby, looking more anxious and quiet than usual; and then before she knew it he pushed her out of the way and there was a hole in his chest and he was bleeding.

"Oswald!" she called out, dropping her glass of wine, as he heavily fell to the ground, his eyes wide open, his face deadly pale.

Someone called an ambulance. Someone called the cops; and she called her mother, her fingers trembling, her voice shaking.

"Mom..." she said breathily and somehow Eleanor instantly knew. She was at work when Charlie called, in her private clinic; and there was no time to waste.

"You go with him, I'll be there in an hour." she said, as Charlie was trying to muffle her sobs.

(Nobody questioned why is she so shaken over her bodyguard taking a bullet. Or: maybe everyone questioned it, but nobody knew how to ask?)

Her mother and her deft hands arrived on time, and Oswald was handed to her, and he was in good hands; all she could do was wait, wait and cry a bit, her clothes stained with Oswald's blood.

The police questioned her there; detective Harvey Bullock was asking the questions she could not answer. She didn't know anything, she didn't see anything - all she knew was that she's scared and sad.

Her father and Louise showed up eventually, equally shocked; Crispin was also angry.

"It's not his fault!" Charlie said instantly, after realizing her father's actually furious. "He saved my life!"

"I'm not angry at him, poor sod was just doing his job!" Crispin stated, walking in circles. "I'm angry at a son of a bitch who pulled the trigger. Are you sure you're fine?"

"I just need to take a shower, that's all." she muttered, hiding her face in her hands.

Louise carefully put her hand on her shoulder.

"He'll be fine." she said."He's strong and it was just a one bullet. It's nothing."

(In that moment, she was very close to telling them the truth. About being in love.)

Eventually, Eleanor left the operating room; she raised her hand before anyone said anything.

"He'll be fine." she said. "He'll recover. The bullet missed anything vital, so mostly it was just painful. And bloody, but it's nothing a transfusion can't fix. And no, you can't talk to him. He's... Out. Try tomorrow."

"Mom..." Charlie said faintly and Eleanor sighed.

"I know, angel. Come on. We'll get you something for your nerves."

After they were left alone - Eleanor managed to find someone willing to let them borrow their office for a time being - they sat down and looked at each other in silence.

"He's important to you." her mother said finally and Charlie looked away. "Isn't he?"

"He's a good friend." she muttered, thinking about all those times he held her in his arms. "Okay?"

"Is he good to you?"

"...he's getting paid for being good to me."

"This is not going to be another heartbreak, is it?" Eleanor asked quietly and Charlie sniffed quietly.

"It's not like this." she said finally, lying to herself and to her mother at the same time. "There is nothing between us, except for the... Job-related stuff. And I... Wasn't expecting to see someone get shot right in front of me."

"Charlie..."

"What?!" she snapped and looked up, to see her mother's gentle smile.

"He is a very attractive young man." Eleanor stated and Charlie gasped. "Is he single?"

"Mom!"

"Oh, I'm just joking! ...i think."

"MOM."

"Darling, I love your dad too much to hurt him like this. ...plus Oswald could be my son. Not quite my forte."

"Jesus Christ, mom."

*** Oswald left the hospital two weeks later - and she spent those fourteen days in Gotham. She refused to come back to New York, even for such a short period; she wanted to be next to him. She felt like she owes him that much.

They let her visit him for the first time two days after the operation; she showed up with his favorite pillow, an anxious smile and her temporary protector behind her back.

"I am glad you're alive." she said quietly, sitting on a chair next to his bed; and he sighed.

"Yeah, I guess I'm glad too. Are you alright?"

"Not even a scratch."

"Did they catch... Whoever pulled the trigger?"

"Not yet, no. Though I've heard Batman's interested as well, so I suppose... It's just a matter of time." she said with a shrug and Oswald winced. "They'll catch him, Oswald."

"I don't feel right, just... Sitting here." he admitted suddenly. "Are you in good hands?"

"Yeah, the temporary guy is alright... But he's not you." she finished hesitantly. "I miss you."

"Oh, already?" he asked with a smirk. "My God, Charlie, it's been less than a week."

"Yeah, well, my home's just not the same without you." she admitted, nervously playing with the sleeve of her blouse. "Does it make sense?"

"It does." he said, looking at her weirdly tenderly; or maybe his eyes were simply hazy due to painkillers. "Kiss me, Charlie."

"He'll see..." she muttered, glancing in the direction of her current bodyguard, who was standing on the corridor, and she could see him through the glass; he was looking in the opposite direction.

"No, he won't." Oswald insisted. "Come on. Just... Just a quick peck. For a fallen hero."

She gave him a quick peck. And another one. And few more.

"Damn." he muttered, his eyes closed. "I need to start getting shot more often, it might actually be worth it."

"Don't joke about it."

"Ugh. Fine." he said theatrically, and she smiled against her will.

She visited him a few more times, and he always managed to get a kiss from her; but eventually, he came back home.

At first she was simply enjoying his presence back in her life, really. The fact he was there when she looked; but eventually... Something snapped.

Being freshly out of the hospital didn't stop him from anything; and as they were lying in bed and as she was tracing the scar on his chest with her fingertips and as he was marking her neck with kisses, she turned her head and muttered "I love you".

She didn't mean to; really. She meant to say something completely different, like "I'm glad you're back" or "I missed you" or "I want you". Completely, absolutely, not at all meaning the same exact thing as "I love you".

"What?" he muttered back, raising his head and looking at her paralyzed face. "What did you just say?"

"...nothing?" she asked in response, feeling like the Grim Reaper was knocking at her door and closing her eyes. "Don't stop."

"Charlie..." he said softly, gently brushing her face with his fingertips; and this tender touch coming from someone who was dangerously close to death because of her almost made her tear up. "Look at me."

"No." she refused weakly. "And you don't look at me."

"But I love looking at you." he whispered back and her heart stopped. "And I love you."

"...what?"

Oswald Cobblepot snickered quietly and told her the truth; about how he first heard about her few years back, when her father was first running for mayor and she and Eleanor were helping him and she was engaged.

Oswald claimed for him it was love at first sight - he read every article that as much as mentioned her and followed her social media accounts; but never interacted. He was fine with having just an obscure, impossible celebrity crush; but then few years later, a miracle happened. Bruce Wayne called him, asking him if he'd be interested in this gig, as a bodyguard for her - and he didn't hesitate, because it would be a dream come true.

(And then he had absolutely no idea how to act around her, because he never planned that far ahead; and then an even bigger miracle happened and he accidentally heard her that one night, moaning out his name.)

"So." he said eventually, probably still staring at her; her eyes were still closed. "We good?"

"Kiss me." she demanded instead of responding. "Now."

"Mmmm... But where?" he muttered, and instead of replying or opening her eyes she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, just the way she did many times before; but something was different this time 'round. Not better or worse  - just different.

But it was alright. She liked this different; same way she liked the sudden difference in a way he touched her.

Her heart and body wanted the same and finally, they both got it.

[adventsonne]

Things that make me squirm (and not in a good way):

When people eat uncooked cookie dough and act like it is better than actual cookies. Like... Nooo... That stuff has uncooked eggs in it and can lead to foodborne illnesse and NO I DO NOT WANT TO LICK THE CAKE BATTER SPATUALA WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?

[circlecast]

The Man Box Part 2

This is part 2 of a 2 part series I would recommend you listen to episode 29 first.

Now, this is a new concept for me and it was introduced to me from a friend of mine. She is a counselor who works with sex offenders. She was talking about how they use the information about The Man Box to help them. Now This episode is more than likely going to drift on the political a bit. This isn’t a political site. This website is men focused and meant to help men raise strong confident boys to they can be leaders in society. To do that we sadly have to get our political feet wet today. Again I apologize there are way too much politics and tribalism going on in the world today. When there is a line crossed I will take a stand. As a Man Should.

So I got to looking at what in the world the man box was. I came across the ted talk by Tony Porter which is the very first video that pops up on youtube. Now Tony started out as a child in the inner city. He talks about how growing up in New York he was taught that Men had to be tough, strong, courageous, dominating, no pain, emotionless except anger and no fear, men are in change which means women are not, That men lead and you just fall in line, Men are superior and women are inferior, Men strong women weak, that women are less valuable. They are the property of men.

Now he goes on and talks about his dad atone of his brother’s funeral, and how he held his tears in till the women left. He then progresses to a story about a girl name Shiela and his interactions with her.  From here he digresses into the problem with the man box and the problem I have with the man box. Where he says that all men function in the deepest foundations or the man Box we inherently undervalue women which makes us see them as objects. This Man box is the topic of today’s discussion.

The biggest problem with all the studies I am about to talk about and it will be beaten in your head throughout this episode is that for people who hate stereotypes they love to stereotype when it fits their needs. Now again I do realize that that view is also a stereotype so this just proves my point even more.

What is the Man Box?

It is a perceived list of values all men are supposed to hold to. Now the “supposed to” is used on purpose because in this argument one side thinks that is how we act and the other side thinks how we don’t act. There are academic papers that are pushing this Man Box listed all over the place. There are studies about how The role of masculine norms and gender role conflict. There are studies about Toxic Masculinity The Man Box is also called Toxic Masculinity. This is where so many people get the idea of Masculinity as being bad, and we need to break the Gender norms and such instances as this. They are fundamentally wrong and we will get into these instances later.

Now according to Richmond College, The Man Box is described as,

A term that researchers use to describe the dominant form of masculinity in the United States at this time is known as Hegemonic Masculinity, which Mark Greene (2013) and others have described as the “Man Box.”

Now that Hegemonic Masculinity is a $10 word and I had a 50¢ vocabulary so I did look up and see what Hegemonic masculinity means and it is according to Wikipedia

Hegemonic masculinity is defined as a practice that legitimizes men's dominant position in society and justifies the subordination of the common male population and women, and other marginalized ways of being a man

From what I see that is the common Alpha Male and Beta Male line of thinking. This is also an incorrect way to look at men. 

Now the Term Man Box goes all the way back 40 years ago to an activist named Paul Kivel. His Wikipedia page isn’t very filled out so what is listed is.

Kivel co-founded the Oakland Men's Project, a community education center focused on preventing male violence, and has been called "an innovative leader in violence prevention.

According to one study called, The Man Box: A Study on Being a Young Man in the US, UK, and Mexico

a rigid construct of cultural ideas about male identity. This includes being self-sufficient, acting tough, looking physically attractive, sticking to rigid gender roles, being heterosexual, having sexual prowess, and using aggression to resolve conflicts.

This is the primary study that I read through and this took a while because of the double standard and I could only handle it at short chunks because of the double standard. 

The 7 Pillars of the Man Box

In the study the divided the man box up into 7 different categories and they are.

Self Sufficiency

A man never talks about his feeling if he wants to get respect. Men should figure out their problems on their own.

Acting Tough

If a man doesn’t fight back, he is weak. Men should act strong even if they are nervose or scared.

Physical Attractiveness

A man has to look good if he wants to be successful. Yet women don’t like men who fuss too much with their hair clothes and skin. And if men spend too much time on their looks they aren’t manly.

Rigid Gender Roles

Men should earn the money and women should stay home and take care of the kids. Boys should have to learn how to cook clean or take care of kids. Husbands don’t have to do chores

Homophobia

Gay men are not real men but it is OK to be friends with a gay man. (Yeah figure that one out)

Hypersexuality

Real Men should have as many sexual partners as they can and never say no to sex.

Aggression and Control

Real men use violence to get respect. A man should always have the final say in a family, and they should know where their girlfriend or woman is at all times.

Already you are seeing the flaws in the man box theory. First, they destroy their argument in the Homophobia category. 

Yet let’s look at some other problems men are in other studies.

Boys are more likely to take risks and partake in risky behaviors.

Yes, boys take more risks and the competition of being the best is in all of us.

They are more fearless

Boys like to show off yet women too like to show off in their own natural way.

You have to be successful

We all want to be successful. Men are more likely to take the risks needed to have their own business.

Engage in watching pornography more

Now, this is a problem. I agree. I am starting to look at what porn does to a man’s way of thinking. And I am starting to see what Pornography does to a man’s thought process. But it isn’t an objectification of women like many people want to think. Yet it does take away the connection to your wife if you are married. Yet I would say we need to look at why men turn to porn in the first place.

Emotionless

This is the natural inclination to stoicism men develop. This is a skill that men require not to turn their emotions off like a switch but to set their emotions off to the side until there is a proper time to process them. 

There is a problem with both sexes in that they will run from uncomfortable emotions. They will bury then so that they don’t have to experience them. This does cause problems and this problem is again in both sexes. This is where much of the problem of overeating comes in to play, along with alcoholism and drug addiction.

Have higher mental health problems

This is going to have some finger-pointing. I believe this is from many of the outside influences on the boys as they are growing up. The schools treat boys as if they are broken girls. Boys are not allowed to be boys. There is a fundamental difference between the two sexes and all of the postmodern deconstructionism that is going on in colleges these days adds only more mental health problems and confusion. Attacks on masculinity as being bad adds even more fuel wind to the tempest. There are no healthy debates going on. There is way too much tribalism. All of this has stifled real men and boys from being able to have healthy talks.

Trying to fix something that isn’t broke only breaks more stuff.

More prone to bullying

This is an increase across both sexes. This has gone on for centuries. Is bullying a problem? It can be but if you can teach a boy to be stoic and let him understand that each man has the ability to disarm the bully by using confidence. Any time you stand out from the crowd people is going to try to pull you down. This is called The Tall poppy syndrome. I talked about this in episode 23.

I also see bullying as a normal rite of passage. It does strengthen you for life. You will face assholes all along your journey you have how do you deal with them? You have teachers who will not like you you will have upper-level managers who see you as a threat. You will have people who will delight in making your life hell. How do you deal with this normal everyday occurrence? You learn from them.

One of the best ways to teach confidence for kids in school is to help them learn that they have power. That can mean that they have to bloody a bully’s nose at some time. That is actually a good thing it teaches the bully that their actions are not accepted and that you never know who you‘re messing with. So get your kid into some type of martial arts. They learn to fight when it is needed.

Lack of friends to talk to

Look at young boys they make friends at the drop of a hat. This skill is lost as we get older. Look at 45-year-old men they may only have 1 or 2 close friends. This on their head it isn’t because men can’t have friends it is because we get caught up in the grind of life. Helping our families. This is a problem but it isn’t strictly associated with men I know many women who have only 1 or 2 close friends.

Will stand by and watch

This is a societal problem. Not only do men stand by and let injustice happen but I see just as many women standing to the side with their phone’s camera out and recording.

What are men in reality

Men actually do the following

We protect those close to us

We do stand up for those who are our family. If the need arises we will fight. We will resort to violent actions. We may not want to but we will. This is why men go to war. They believe in a cause and are willing to put their lives on the line.

This is where many of the Man Box categories are actually put to good use. War is risky so when being raised up this is why boys take more risk. We naturally train ourselves to do fearless activities. It shows us that 90% of the time we won’t actually die from being uncomfortable. 

We have the needed aggression to do the hard work. That aggression is also used so that we go after what we want. We don’t give up just because something is in our way.

The lack of emotions that these studies find also helps in protecting our families. WE do have to act in moments of fear and high stress. When loud explosions are going on around us we have to know there is a time and a place for everything and paying attention to the amygdala on a battlefield will often get you shot. This is called Stoicism and it is a good thing for men to have. So we aren’t just standing in the middle of a crowd boohooing. 

Men serve their community

WE have friends and working or running a business is serving the community. We have to take risks to run a business. We can’t succumb to fear when making a business decision because it will most likely be the wrong choice.

Men provide for their family

This is us reaping the rewards of serving the community. Life is a set of transactions and that sounds cold to many who think capitalism is wrong but it is a fact. You cant receive unless you give. This goes with respect, Having a wife, having friends, and having a business.

Without many aspects of the Man Box, you cant have a stable society. These social constructs have been with us for many millennia. They serve us well and they are there for a damn good reason.

Now I will say I agree with Tony at the end of his talk. Because in all reality I am doing a lot on this site to do what he thinks needs to be done to fix the Man Box. He stats that is it ok to not be dominating. It is OK to have feelings and emotions. It is OK to promote equality, it is OK to have women who are just friends, That it is ok to be whole.

That is what I do on this site and this podcast. If you go through and look we talk a hell of a lot about emotions and what they are and why they are good to have. Equality is always something we all strive for real equality not to sacrifice one person's rights gifts and give them to a different person who someone arbitrarily feels needs more rights and special help. We all have the ability to be successful. And there would be more successful with less victim mindset. When we have the stoicism and integrity in your life you can have women as friends. 

Other Relaxed Male posts about Toxic Masculinity

There is No Toxic Masculinity Because Our Boys Aren’t Broken

Let Boys be Boys

Newest podcast episode to change your Mindset

[cncdude5x]

I am just completing my 4th year of full-time instruction in Precision and CNC Machining here at Suncoast Technical College – formerly know as Sarasota County Technical Institute.  It has been more work that I thought but I do enjoy a lot of the outcomes and effect I may have on our community.  I do spend too much time at work but maybe its the nature of me or as a machinist.

I did come from a family of machinists. My dad was the fruit and vegetable guy at local supermarket.   I attended college level classes in high school but never took my SAT’s. I did ok in high school but I had no plan in 1972.  I then worked menial jobs , like forklift operator, auto parts sales and delivery, dishwasher at the mall.  Then one day I ran into someone at the auto parts store – a friend.  He said that he was not driving truck anymore and he got training to be a machinist and told me me “you should check it out “.  Well I did. It was called Boston Tooling and Machining Institute – a NTMA school in an industrial park.  I took a small test and passed. Plus it was a free school sponsored by Boston Tooling Association. So I left my auto parts job in 1983.

  We learned some math, blueprint reading and manual machining on donated equipment, Mill and lathe. Taught the basics for 4 months and then put in the field. I ended up at a machine tool dealer – Methods Machine Tools in the special projects dept. for 2 years and after that I worked at a job shop called Dyko Tool and Die in Waltham, Mass. I was thrust into the new world of machining – Computerized machining or CNC.

Since then I have always been a machinist – it fit me like a glove.  I never knew I had the talent for it. The CNC machining was perfect for me. I learned to write code for the CNC machine and use my manual machining skills to make parts.  I even moved to NH and worked at a 5 axis CNC shop in 1990. It was cutting edge technology. 27 years ago. I have worked at many places making brain surgery equipment, Hip implants, Race car parts, custom motorcycle equipment, Defense department equipment and some things I had no idea. Secret stuff I guess.

I always worked , always had a job good times and bad. Last place I worked was at Lockheed- Martin in Orlando, Florida right next to SeaWorld. 3000 people at a secure defense facility on CNC equipment that costs $950,000. I look back to 1972 and can’t believe I did all that and people trusted me.  Best compliment I had was a former boss, Bill Lobdell from Sanders Associates, Manchester, NH.   I would report to him on what I was doing and asking permission for changes or updates. He told me just tell me at the end of the night as I trust you. You do a good job.  Bill is gone now but I still remember.

I worked with many great people and machinists. Learned a lot. In 2013 I had a chance to teach near my new home in Sarasota, Florida.  Teach a brand new program to help workforce development for needs in machining.  I met with the head of the manufacturing association at SAMA – Jennifer Behrens Schmidt.  I had written a paper about teaching in the modern world of machining, how we needed more CNC and less high level manual traditional training.   She totally agreed so I knew it would be a good fit.  I became a teacher for Sarasota county in industrial arts.

Now I am ending my 4th year and will have trained about 85 apprentices in a one year 1200 hour program called Precision and CNC Automation – under the frameworks of Florida Dept of Education. I had to develop the program myself with help with advisory guidance from Sarasota and Manatee Manufacturing Association – so that what I taught aligned with what companies needed.  I also had the great pleasure of meeting Bob Skodinsky from HTEC – Haas Technical Education Centers. He actually works for this national organization to promote machining education that is based in California but lived right down the street in Sarasota.  He had saw that school was staring up a new program after the previous one had been dumped 10 years previous. He helped guide them with purchase of 2 Haas CNC machines and a software program called Immerse 2 Learn – I2L.

So I showed up 3 weeks later to a class of 18. Only problem was we had no equipment. Just 3 books and I2L software. Machines are on order. waiting and waiting . We waited from August until Jan. I had to purchase more equipment also. With direction from SAMA I purchased traditional machining equipment – 2 mills – 2 lathes and 2 surface grinders and a drill press, plus saws.  I added a 2 axis Hybrid CNC Trak Mill and a Haas VF2 with 4th axis.  We also setup up an inspection department with necessary gauges needed.  By Jan 2014 we had power and a load of metal donated from Sun Hydraulics.

In the mean time we did constant CNC software training,  We also had 12 Haas CNC simulators and used them to hand write G code programs – the common language used by the CNC machine. We also did field trips to visit manufacturing facilities. I tried to keep the focus away from the empty shop or as educators call it ” Lab”. No one left. Well we finished the year and got 100% employment.

So now here it sit. Wondering whats next. I added 2 seats of MasterCam for CNC programming,  Then added a 300 hr Fast Track CNC night class. Companies would send us people who needed more training. This year we added MasterCam night school for associate level certification. Finally one of our original sponsors – Career Edge Funders started an internship funding program for apprentices we needed to put in the field. Career Edge also sponsored Soft Skill Training for the last 2 years as well.

I now have even more companies calling me and I cannot fill all the jobs. Word has got out about our success and manufacturing is just very busy. We also produced the most NIMS certifications in the State of Florida.  (National Institute of Metalworking Skills).

Now what? – Well 4 years ago I had a thought on how we should teach and align it with the needs of my area.  We only had one year to do this with a class. I would follow my model of how I learned, not like what other schools used to teach. Some guys I worked with had only traditional training and showed me projects they made like a tool makers vice and hardened 1-2-3 Blocks and more.  I didn’t think we needed to teach that because it was old technology but I did think it was important to learn using Manual equipment along with learning about CNC.  The same processes applied only the CNC was faster and had much better control.  In my experience the traditional machinist as a high level job was being phased out.  But many companies still expected you to know how to run that equipment as needed but they would make the high level stuff on CNC.  Manual machines are considered to be secondary equipment.  I still thought it was a good idea to learn with hands on. To get the feel of cutting metal,  learn good setups and techniques and then apply them when in CNC land.  I would only have them to simple projects like Bore a hole on Vertical mill and Lathe.  Single point thread using a tool they hand ground. Make a spacer using another tool they hand ground on the lathe. They learned quickly about tooling and relief angles etc.  When you talk about an inserted tool to a student they don’t get why it cuts, it just does. When they made a tool they got it. So manual machining became a way to teach machining in its pure form.  We also had tool and die and Plastic injection mold-makers so they wanted students to know surface grinding as well.

  On to the CNC machine.  Now We start here setting up jobs that are proven programs. Setup tools, offsets and get it running safely and efficiently. Then measure the final result plus read them prints.   Then we progress to hand writing a couple of simple programs plus setup and run like before. We also use the latest technology using wireless probing  for setting up tool coordinates but we also teach old school methods as 50% of the companies still do it that way. I want them to be employable in many situations. Some shops have a mixture of old and new CNC.  Also if the probe dies you can still get it running with old school methods (edge finder and gage blocks – not a fan of the paper method for tool touch off).

We are earning NIMS certifications along the way. They must make a part that passes a third party inspection.  Using various methods.  Some tests are on CNC operation and maintenance.  The final tests are hand written CNC programs for lathe and mill per NIMS requirements.  I believe the people on the shop floor should understand G code so they can make adjustments on the fly to keep quality and production going. No need to go reprogram all the time with Cad/Cam. What if the boss wants to move a job to another machine?  Our guys can edit quickly what is needed because they can think in code.  They know how to calculate proper feeds and speeds. They get used to trouble shooting problems and helping the new people.

When they get in the programming room and become programmers they know what good code is by a quick scan. We all know they have $$$simulation software that helps keep them crashes down but some smaller shops run on a tight budget so you work with what you have.  Its a constant learning experience. Even for me at age 62.  We also teach an evening course in MasterCam  Cad/Cam programming plus our district is teaching middle schoolers MasterCam to machine wooden Co2 Dragsters after they design in Solidworks. They machine them in Techno CNC routers.  Its not just a 3d printing world.

So here I am….. I ask our local shops and advisory is there any direction I need to change in what we teach?  No way. They are very happy and now I get too many calls for a good machinist.  I hope we can turn the tide with parents and counselors to show them that working in the trades is very rewarding.

  In my home town of Burlington Mass I went to school with Roger Cook. You may see him on a TV show called “This Old House”.  In my old town everyone knows that the trades make a good living so the vocational schools have a waiting list.  I just wish everywhere in the US it was the same.

We host an annual event called National MFG Day in October. We use a great program from a story teller Jeremy Bout from EDU Factor during the event. He tells and shows great stories of just people like us – people who make things. This is one way of getting the right people.  Titan Gilroy – He has a great TV show on MAV TV called Titans of CNC. he is always out there telling his story of success and helping others through inspiration and lessons on CNC.

I also belong to a great group – HTEC. Haas Technical Education Centers. The only group totally dedicated to machining education. I have been to 3 national conferences and our school hosted the first State of Florida HTEC conference. We get to meet other instructors and discuss different methods of teaching and help each other. Bob Skodinsky nominated me for the HTEC Council to represent one year schools.

  I have learned many things some schools are high school, some are 2 yr community college, some are built into 4 yr universities and be connected to engineering degrees.  And we have schools like us who teach in one year. To retrain workers or take high schoolers who have wandered and need direction. Workforce development is my goal. I have to line up jobs , build relationships, internships and more.  I hope at some point we get a high school graduate who comes here right after graduation on a mission.

So in July you will see me in Dallas, TX at my 4th HTEC conference. Meet new people and see some friends. My life has been a journey I didn’t plan life like this but not too bad. In 1972 I could have never imagined. Yeah that’s me on the dragbike.

          Teaching Machining in Today’s world I am just completing my 4th year of full-time instruction in Precision and CNC Machining here at Suncoast Technical College - formerly know as Sarasota County Technical Institute.  

[milyanthony]

Story of my Dad

Once in the afternoon I came back home from school, I asked my Dad to borrow his car. He didn’t let me drive due to the bad weather outside. But I told him I could handle it. I was 17 back then. I promised my friends to catch up. My teenager ego brooke loose all my patience.. his high pitch was out of control. We had a big argument.

I slammed the door and locked it against him. I broke my mirror. I told him I wouldn’t go out of the room to see his face anymore!

I stayed in my room until the day after. I didn’t go to school because for sure, my friends would sarcastically mock on me.

I only got out to look some food, and when I realized my dad would be around, I came back to isolate myself in.

The next day I woke up in the middle of a night. I knew my Dad must have been sound asleep in his room. So I went out of my room to get some cold milk.

I crossed by my living room to reach kitchen. I saw my TV screen was still shining bright. There was somebody on the couch still. I tried to take a look closer..

He was still there. Sleeping. With his work outfit still on. Even the socks. It was already midnight.

On the table in front of him there were two bowls, the one that was already empty. And another one that filled by some melted ice cream.

He bought my favorite ice cream. Was waiting for me to go out of the room watching history channel together. Because he didn’t switch the channel to the midnight news one, as he always did.

I saw his shiny face. Looked tired. Woke up in the early morning for every single day to feed all the family.

His wrinkles were not too visible to compare when he got angry. He was all quiet, so I couldn’t hear his anger that slurred out of his mouth like the last time.

When I was 4 years old, he was a jobless guy. I could still recall how he spent days painting, and drawing. Making sculptures. He was the coolest Dad ever for me! He let me to straint paint with all over my body dirty. I painted on the wall of our house. We erased, then repainted again. That was fun.

Our house was small. We didn’t have cars. Only a classic bike of my Dad. That was his favorite. I always sat on the basket in front because my tiny body still could fit in it. My mom spent her mornings cooking for us. The days looking after us, and the nights making a lot of beautiful poems. We had a deaf cat named Lucy. My Dad brought it back to home when he found Lucy drowning in the small lake near our house.

I also took Lucy in the basket of my Dad’s bike. We strolled around the lake every morning. Gone fishing. And Lucy ran away free catching some grosshoppers. Dad also brought the painting tools along. My mom put drawing, story book, and some crayons in my bag. Because she couldn’t afford to pay my kindergarten. That got me a bit jealous every time I saw the kids at my same ages went back from school wearing their uniforms.

One afternoon when I was with Lucy and my Dad in the lake area. Did our daily routine. A few kids came toward me. They wore uniforms from the kindergarten nearby. They had nice bags and shoes.

They saw me drawing without saying anything. I shared them my crayons and some space on my drawing book. They looked shy at the beginning. Then another kid tried to look around what inside my story book. “Ah, that one. You want me to read the story?”

They nodded altogether..

So I read them a story from my book. They went to school everyday, but they were not able to read and draw as I did being schooless. I read the book like my Mom ever taught me, and they listened to all my story telling. Of course I introduced them my pet, Lucy. They loved Lucy too!

After that day, we always constantly met and played around together. They brought their parents, also their toys. My Dad was happy to see that, I had new friends except Lucy.

I told everything to my Mom, and I invited her to come and I would introduce to my new friends. There she came..

But that day was very total different than I expected. As the sun went almost down, Mom asked me to go home, leaving my Dad behind. I said goodbye to my friends, and Lucy would go home with Dad.

That night, I heard my mom crying. That was the first time I heard my mom’s voice shivering and yelling out loud. My Dad brought me and Lucy to our room, he turned the music on. Britpop. I didn’t hear the noise from outside again.

The day after I woke up in the morning.. I was looking for my breakfast and hot milk on the table as my mom always served.

The omelette tasted different. I asked my Dad where mom was. He didn’t answer, and continuously drawing. I spent the whole day and night with my Dad.. until I fell asleep and woke up again to the next day.

Mom was still not around.

I was looking for her, and started crying. My milk ran out, and I couldn’t find my crayons. Dan tried doing anything to entertain me. But I couldn't stop snobbing until night. Dad gave me hug, calmed me down on our terrace. A night sky was completely quiet. The stars and moon were so visible enough from down here.

Days went by.. without a mother figure in the house. Without a story before bed every night. Without a bubble bath every day. Without a glass of hot milk every morning.

Dad was changed. His hair was getting longer. But he never changed his life. Filled by art and his own wonderful world.

By the morning I woke up after dreaming about my Mom. Then somebody came in the room, and.. I was super surprised and tremendously happy! My dream came true, and my Mom was really there!

I jumped up to her and she couldn’t stop kissing all over my face. She left for 3 months..

She gave me a lil gift. That was a school uniform. That was the first day I went to school. I still remember, 5th of May 1996. And at the same day, my Dad cut his hair. He was happy to see me wearing uniform, got ready for school. Too bad I couldn’t bring Lucy along with me. So I left it at home. Dad, also changed his outfit. That was the first time I saw him wearing a nice shirt and trouser. Carried a bag. Never seen him with all of those things before.

And since that, Dad rarely showed up his face at the daytime. He always went home late. Worked hard. Forgot his drawings and sculptures. We sometimes went to the lake. But not stayed for too long. He started getting busy and kept being busy and busy. Until I forgot that we’ve had those daily fun activities as we used to do.

Until that night I saw his tiring face sleeping on the couch. Full of materialism all over his body. I couldn’t recognize him anymore. But when he slept, it reminded me of our good golden days back in the past.

So precious.

We were happy without big house and cars. Unfortunately, Lucy died when I was 8. And all the painting tools were kept in a storage at our place.

The day when my mom left, apparently she was really offended by the parents of my little friends. The parents kept questioning the reason why I had to stay inside the house without an education. Husband should support it, and it’s a mandatory duty of a father. Mom figured out the truth and forced my Dad to find a job, instead of being an useless artist. Unfortunately he couldn’t find any job that was suitable for him, my mom resisted to get back at home before my Dad found a new job to feed us. To give me a proper education as the other kids do.

Well, back on the night when I was 17. Now I understand why my Dad was really strict over me. For me, he couldn’t understand what I want, meanwhile, he always thought that I was still his little girl.

I know I will always be his little girl forever. I am the only child he has. I am the only treasure he can’t replace. and money still can’t buy happiness to live healthily and safely in the house.

No matter how drastically our lives changed. He’s still being a figure of family man who loves to protect his family. As our leader.

And right now…

I just got back home from the longest meeting ever at my office. Tired but can’t sleep. Sad but can’t cry.

I miss my Dad. I need him at my current lowest mental breakdown.

[mavwrekmarketing]

Image copyright Capitol Records

Image caption The singer started learning violin as a child, but decided to become a singer-songwriter

Beware of Frances: She’s on a one-woman mission to force all the water in your body out through your tear ducts.

Nominated for the Brits critics’ choice award and the BBC Sound of 2016, the singer has a knack for achingly beautiful ballads that tug at the heartstrings.

Songs like Let It Out and Say It Again have earned her more than 50 million streams on Spotify – and top 10 singles around the world (although not at home, thanks to the current state of the UK singles chart).

Born Sophie Frances Cooke in Berkshire, she was an aspiring violinist when her teacher sent her to see a film composer for career advice.

On a whim, she played him a pop song she’d written for fun – and moved him to tears.

“It was a bit awkward,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘Are you ok?’ and he said, ‘Yeah. But you need to do that. You have to do that for the rest of your life.”

She took his advice – choosing to attend the pop-focussed Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts instead of her original choice, the Birmingham Conservatoire.

By the time she reached her third year of studies, she’d already been signed by a record label and moved to London.

Her debut album, Things I’ve Never Said, comes out this week. A warm and wistful collection of perfectly-crafted piano pop, it has already won the singer comparisons to Adele and Carole King.

Meanwhile, her single Grow has been selected to soundtrack a new campaign by Refuge, the charity supporting female victims of domestic violence.

The 23-year-old sat down to tell the BBC about that video; the perks of fame; and what it’s like to get school lessons from Paul McCartney.

Media captionFrances plays the BBC Introducing Stage at Glastonbury 2016

Hello Frances… Or should I call you Sophie?

I’m Sophie to my family and friends – but I once thought, “If I’m going to be an artist, my name’s got to look good on a piece of paper”. Sophie is very curly, it looks very young, whereas Frances is a lot more angular. So it just kind of stuck.

But then up until the age of 16, everyone called me Cookie. So anything goes.

It’s been three years since your first single – you must be relieved the album is finally out?

I’m so excited. It’s definitely been a while. I wrote some of these songs when I was 18 or 19, and so they’ve literally been with me for five years.

It’s unusual for people to stay fond of the songs they wrote in their teens.

Actually, at the time, I didn’t think much of them! But they made it through all the label cuts and slashes. They stood the test of time.

What are the oldest ones on there?

I wrote Drifting and Sublime in my room at LIPA – the performing arts school up in Liverpool.

That’s the one that Paul McCartney founded, right? Did he ever show up?

A couple of times. He’d come in to do little Q&As.

He was really nice, if you saw him walking past, you could just say “hi” and he was always really sweet.

What’s the best advice you got from him?

He said that when he and John [Lennon] were writing, they didn’t have anything to record what they were doing Whereas now, if I’m writing in a session, I’ve got my phone there recording everything. And so if I forget something I can go back and find it.

But he said, “We didn’t have that luxury. So if we forgot something, it wasn’t good enough and we didn’t use it.”

I was like, “Oh my God, that’s so true.” Because if you’ve written something and 10 minutes later you don’t remember it, then it’s not good enough.

Do you stick to that advice even now?

No, because my memory’s terrible!

Media captionWatch an excerpt for Frances’ video for Grow

One of the first songs you released was Grow… and that’s now being used in a very powerful video for Refuge.

It’s amazing. It’s about a woman called Melanie Clark, who had a terrible time, a really abusive partner, and she managed to get out of it by seeking help from Refuge.

They’ve animated her story. It’s basically about her feeling invisible until one woman, who represents Refuge, notices her for the first time. It’s a campaign to encourage victims of domestic abuse to seek help. We want people to realise they are not alone.

The original song isn’t about domestic abuse at all. Were you surprised by how well the words and the images complement each other?

It’s weird how the lyrics make so much sense alongside the story. I just hope it will resonate with people all over the world. It’s an amazing animation and everyone’s done it for free.

Image copyright Capitol Records

Image caption The singer has collaborated with Disclosure and Spice Girls writer Biff Stannard – but is keeping those songs for a later record

Would it be fair to say you’ve always wanted to play music?

Absolutely. My best friend’s parents were professional violinists. When I was about eight, I went round to her house, picked one up and fell in love with it. Then her dad taught me all the way up ’til I was about 16 or 17.

What grade did you get?

Eight. I absolutely loved it.

What was your exam piece?

I did a kind of a gypsy piece called Csardas. It’s so fast – and it speeds up towards the end, as well. And then I started the piano when I was 10 – but I only got to grade six. I couldn’t be bothered to do scales any more.

Do you remember your first stage performance?

I was three, dressed as an ice cream in a production of The Hungry Caterpillar at the Royal Festival Hall! And then throughout school, I was always on stage, playing violin or piano. And I played in the Berkshire Youth Orchestra.

Media captionFrances performs Grow at the BBC Introducing SXSW showcase in 2016.

You sound like a high achiever. Were you good academically, too?

I was quite lucky at school. I had this little charm – I could not do my homework and somehow get away with it.

Everyone knew I worked so hard at music. I was doing stuff after school every day, so the teachers were quite lenient.

And then you went to LIPA…

Actually, I didn’t get in the first time. They put me on their foundation course, which cost like 10 grand or something. My parents, bless them, scrambled together every penny we had and I worked at Waitrose trying to get money to go.

How did you get signed?

I put a song called Coming Up For Air on SoundCloud in early 2014. It was quite calculated – because at the time London Grammar were really big, so I thought, “OK, I’m going to write something like that, so all the blogs listen and pick up on it”. Eventually, a few started writing about it and then Tom Robinson from 6 Music played it which was really cool.

After that, we ended up having a meeting with [boutique record label] Kitsun, and released a single.

Don’t Worry About Me was a big breakthrough for you. How did that come about?

One of my friends was quite ill – and I wrote the song to say, “look after yourself and I’ll be here for you”.

I wrote it really quickly. I was just getting off the bus on Kilburn High Road when I came up with the phrase, “I’ll feel the fear for you, I’ll cry the tears for you, don’t worry about me.” I ran home thinking, “I need to get to a piano quickly, I don’t want to lose this.”

It’s a very emotional performance.

I think because I wrote it so quickly. I was thinking about my friend and the lyrics just came out.

Image caption The star has been compared to Adele and Carole King

Don’t Worry About Me has been played nine million times on Spotify. How do you wrap your head around that?

I don’t really. I always said that if I won the lottery, I’d be more excited by 100,000 than I would with 1m because I can’t understand a million pounds. I’ve never seen that. I can’t quantify it. Whereas a hundred grand, I can think, “ah, that’s a really nice car”.

It’s a weird period for music at the moment You can have all those plays, and millions of people know your song, but it hasn’t troubled the charts in the UK.

It’s a really weird time. In Belgium, Don’t Worry About Me was in the top 20 for 10 weeks and that’s mainly because in Belgium the singer-songwriter world is their Radio 1. In Australia, it hung around the chart for ages. In the UK, I’ve just come out at a really funny time. There’s a weird limbo.

But I’m so proud of my album. I know it’s not going to sell 20 million copies but that’s OK. I want to be an artist that’s going to be around for 20 or 30 years.

In a strange way, you’re famous to the people who know you and nobody else.

It’s actually lovely because I can walk down the street and not be bothered. Apart from in John Lewis once, where the manager recognised me while I was buying a sofa.

He was like, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?” and I thought, “Oh no, my card’s been rejected” but he was like, “Can I get a picture with you?”

And I think he paid for my sofa because I took out finance and I haven’t paid a penny yet.

That’s a proper celebrity discount!

Totally. 100% off!

Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or on Instagram at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email entertainment.news@bbc.co.uk.

More on Frances

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 The post Frances reveals Paul McCartney’s songwriting tips – BBC News appeared first on MavWrek Marketing by Jason

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[viralhottopics]

Frances reveals Paul McCartney’s songwriting tips – BBC News

Image copyright Capitol Records

Image caption The singer started learning violin as a child, but decided to become a singer-songwriter

Beware of Frances: She’s on a one-woman mission to force all the water in your body out through your tear ducts.

Nominated for the Brits critics’ choice award and the BBC Sound of 2016, the singer has a knack for achingly beautiful ballads that tug at the heartstrings.

Songs like Let It Out and Say It Again have earned her more than 50 million streams on Spotify – and top 10 singles around the world (although not at home, thanks to the current state of the UK singles chart).

Born Sophie Frances Cooke in Berkshire, she was an aspiring violinist when her teacher sent her to see a film composer for career advice.

On a whim, she played him a pop song she’d written for fun – and moved him to tears.

“It was a bit awkward,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘Are you ok?’ and he said, ‘Yeah. But you need to do that. You have to do that for the rest of your life.”

She took his advice – choosing to attend the pop-focussed Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts instead of her original choice, the Birmingham Conservatoire.

By the time she reached her third year of studies, she’d already been signed by a record label and moved to London.

Her debut album, Things I’ve Never Said, comes out this week. A warm and wistful collection of perfectly-crafted piano pop, it has already won the singer comparisons to Adele and Carole King.

Meanwhile, her single Grow has been selected to soundtrack a new campaign by Refuge, the charity supporting female victims of domestic violence.

The 23-year-old sat down to tell the BBC about that video; the perks of fame; and what it’s like to get school lessons from Paul McCartney.

Media captionFrances plays the BBC Introducing Stage at Glastonbury 2016

Hello Frances… Or should I call you Sophie?

I’m Sophie to my family and friends – but I once thought, “If I’m going to be an artist, my name’s got to look good on a piece of paper”. Sophie is very curly, it looks very young, whereas Frances is a lot more angular. So it just kind of stuck.

But then up until the age of 16, everyone called me Cookie. So anything goes.

It’s been three years since your first single – you must be relieved the album is finally out?

I’m so excited. It’s definitely been a while. I wrote some of these songs when I was 18 or 19, and so they’ve literally been with me for five years.

It’s unusual for people to stay fond of the songs they wrote in their teens.

Actually, at the time, I didn’t think much of them! But they made it through all the label cuts and slashes. They stood the test of time.

What are the oldest ones on there?

I wrote Drifting and Sublime in my room at LIPA – the performing arts school up in Liverpool.

That’s the one that Paul McCartney founded, right? Did he ever show up?

A couple of times. He’d come in to do little Q&As.

He was really nice, if you saw him walking past, you could just say “hi” and he was always really sweet.

What’s the best advice you got from him?

He said that when he and John [Lennon] were writing, they didn’t have anything to record what they were doing Whereas now, if I’m writing in a session, I’ve got my phone there recording everything. And so if I forget something I can go back and find it.

But he said, “We didn’t have that luxury. So if we forgot something, it wasn’t good enough and we didn’t use it.”

I was like, “Oh my God, that’s so true.” Because if you’ve written something and 10 minutes later you don’t remember it, then it’s not good enough.

Do you stick to that advice even now?

No, because my memory’s terrible!

Media captionWatch an excerpt for Frances’ video for Grow

One of the first songs you released was Grow… and that’s now being used in a very powerful video for Refuge.

It’s amazing. It’s about a woman called Melanie Clark, who had a terrible time, a really abusive partner, and she managed to get out of it by seeking help from Refuge.

They’ve animated her story. It’s basically about her feeling invisible until one woman, who represents Refuge, notices her for the first time. It’s a campaign to encourage victims of domestic abuse to seek help. We want people to realise they are not alone.

The original song isn’t about domestic abuse at all. Were you surprised by how well the words and the images complement each other?

It’s weird how the lyrics make so much sense alongside the story. I just hope it will resonate with people all over the world. It’s an amazing animation and everyone’s done it for free.

Image copyright Capitol Records

Image caption The singer has collaborated with Disclosure and Spice Girls writer Biff Stannard – but is keeping those songs for a later record

Would it be fair to say you’ve always wanted to play music?

Absolutely. My best friend’s parents were professional violinists. When I was about eight, I went round to her house, picked one up and fell in love with it. Then her dad taught me all the way up ’til I was about 16 or 17.

What grade did you get?

Eight. I absolutely loved it.

What was your exam piece?

I did a kind of a gypsy piece called Csardas. It’s so fast – and it speeds up towards the end, as well. And then I started the piano when I was 10 – but I only got to grade six. I couldn’t be bothered to do scales any more.

Do you remember your first stage performance?

I was three, dressed as an ice cream in a production of The Hungry Caterpillar at the Royal Festival Hall! And then throughout school, I was always on stage, playing violin or piano. And I played in the Berkshire Youth Orchestra.

Media captionFrances performs Grow at the BBC Introducing SXSW showcase in 2016.

You sound like a high achiever. Were you good academically, too?

I was quite lucky at school. I had this little charm – I could not do my homework and somehow get away with it.

Everyone knew I worked so hard at music. I was doing stuff after school every day, so the teachers were quite lenient.

And then you went to LIPA…

Actually, I didn’t get in the first time. They put me on their foundation course, which cost like 10 grand or something. My parents, bless them, scrambled together every penny we had and I worked at Waitrose trying to get money to go.

How did you get signed?

I put a song called Coming Up For Air on SoundCloud in early 2014. It was quite calculated – because at the time London Grammar were really big, so I thought, “OK, I’m going to write something like that, so all the blogs listen and pick up on it”. Eventually, a few started writing about it and then Tom Robinson from 6 Music played it which was really cool.

After that, we ended up having a meeting with [boutique record label] Kitsun, and released a single.

Don’t Worry About Me was a big breakthrough for you. How did that come about?

One of my friends was quite ill – and I wrote the song to say, “look after yourself and I’ll be here for you”.

I wrote it really quickly. I was just getting off the bus on Kilburn High Road when I came up with the phrase, “I’ll feel the fear for you, I’ll cry the tears for you, don’t worry about me.” I ran home thinking, “I need to get to a piano quickly, I don’t want to lose this.”

It’s a very emotional performance.

I think because I wrote it so quickly. I was thinking about my friend and the lyrics just came out.

Image caption The star has been compared to Adele and Carole King

Don’t Worry About Me has been played nine million times on Spotify. How do you wrap your head around that?

I don’t really. I always said that if I won the lottery, I’d be more excited by 100,000 than I would with 1m because I can’t understand a million pounds. I’ve never seen that. I can’t quantify it. Whereas a hundred grand, I can think, “ah, that’s a really nice car”.

It’s a weird period for music at the moment You can have all those plays, and millions of people know your song, but it hasn’t troubled the charts in the UK.

It’s a really weird time. In Belgium, Don’t Worry About Me was in the top 20 for 10 weeks and that’s mainly because in Belgium the singer-songwriter world is their Radio 1. In Australia, it hung around the chart for ages. In the UK, I’ve just come out at a really funny time. There’s a weird limbo.

But I’m so proud of my album. I know it’s not going to sell 20 million copies but that’s OK. I want to be an artist that’s going to be around for 20 or 30 years.

In a strange way, you’re famous to the people who know you and nobody else.

It’s actually lovely because I can walk down the street and not be bothered. Apart from in John Lewis once, where the manager recognised me while I was buying a sofa.

He was like, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?” and I thought, “Oh no, my card’s been rejected” but he was like, “Can I get a picture with you?”

And I think he paid for my sofa because I took out finance and I haven’t paid a penny yet.

That’s a proper celebrity discount!

Totally. 100% off!

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The Man Box Part 1

Now, this is a new concept for me and it was introduced to me from a friend of mine. She is a counselor who works with sex offenders. She was talking about how they use the information about The Man Box to help them. Now This episode is more than likely going to drift on the political a bit. This isn’t a political site. This website is men focused and meant to help men raise strong confident boys to they can be leaders in society. To do that we sadly have to get our political feet wet today. Again I apologize there are way too much politics and tribalism going on in the world today. When there is a line crossed I will take a stand. As a Man Should.

So I got to looking at what in the world the man box was. I came across the ted talk by Tony Porter which is the very first video that pops up on youtube. Now Tony started out as a child in the inner city. He talks about how growing up in New York he was taught that Men had to be tough, strong, courageous, dominating, no pain, emotionless except anger and no fear, men are in change which means women are not, That men lead and you just fall in line, Men are superior and women are inferior, Men strong women weak, that women are less valuable. They are the property of men.

Now he goes on and talks about his dad atone of his brother’s funeral, and how he held his tears in till the women left. He then progresses to a story about a girl name Shiela and his interactions with her.  From here he digresses into the problem with the man box and the problem I have with the man box. Where he says that all men function in the deepest foundations or the man Box we inherently undervalue women which makes us see them as objects. This Man box is the topic of today’s discussion.

The biggest problem with all the studies I am about to talk about and it will be beaten in your head throughout this episode is that for people who hate stereotypes they love to stereotype when it fits their needs. Now again I do realize that that view is also a stereotype so this just proves my point even more.

What is the Man Box?

It is a perceived list of values all men are supposed to hold to. Now the “supposed to” is used on purpose because in this argument one side thinks that is how we act and the other side thinks how we don’t act. There are academic papers that are pushing this Man Box listed all over the place. There are studies about how The role of masculine norms and gender role conflict. There are studies about Toxic Masculinity The Man Box is also called Toxic Masculinity. This is where so many people get the idea of Masculinity as being bad, and we need to break the Gender norms and such instances as this. They are fundamentally wrong and we will get into these instances later.

Now according to Richmond College, The Man Box is described as,

A term that researchers use to describe the dominant form of masculinity in the United States at this time is known as Hegemonic Masculinity, which Mark Greene (2013) and others have described as the “Man Box.”

Now that Hegemonic Masculinity is a $10 word and I had a 50¢ vocabulary so I did look up and see what Hegemonic masculinity means and it is according to Wikipedia

Hegemonic masculinity is defined as a practice that legitimizes men's dominant position in society and justifies the subordination of the common male population and women, and other marginalized ways of being a man

From what I see that is the common Alpha Male and Beta Male line of thinking. This is also an incorrect way to look at men. 

Now the Term Man Box goes all the way back 40 years ago to an activist named Paul Kivel. His Wikipedia page isn’t very filled out so what is listed is.

Kivel co-founded the Oakland Men's Project, a community education center focused on preventing male violence, and has been called "an innovative leader in violence prevention.

According to one study called, The Man Box: A Study on Being a Young Man in the US, UK, and Mexico

a rigid construct of cultural ideas about male identity. This includes being self-sufficient, acting tough, looking physically attractive, sticking to rigid gender roles, being heterosexual, having sexual prowess, and using aggression to resolve conflicts.

This is the primary study that I read through and this took a while because of the double standard and I could only handle it at short chunks because of the double standard. 

The 7 Pillars of the Man Box

In the study the divided the man box up into 7 different categories and they are.

Self Sufficiency

A man never talks about his feeling if he wants to get respect. Men should figure out their problems on their own.

Acting Tough

If a man doesn’t fight back, he is weak. Men should act strong even if they are nervose or scared.

Physical Attractiveness

A man has to look good if he wants to be successful. Yet women don’t like men who fuss too much with their hair clothes and skin. And if men spend too much time on their looks they aren’t manly.

Rigid Gender Roles

Men should earn the money and women should stay home and take care of the kids. Boys should have to learn how to cook clean or take care of kids. Husbands don’t have to do chores

Homophobia

Gay men are not real men but it is OK to be friends with a gay man. (Yeah figure that one out)

Hypersexuality

Real Men should have as many sexual partners as they can and never say no to sex.

Aggression and Control

Real men use violence to get respect. A man should always have the final say in a family, and they should know where their girlfriend or woman is at all times.

Already you are seeing the flaws in the man box theory. First, they destroy their argument in the Homophobia category. 

Yet let’s look at some other problems men are in other studies.

Boys are more likely to take risks and partake in risky behaviors.

Yes, boys take more risks and the competition of being the best is in all of us.

They are more fearless

Boys like to show off yet women too like to show off in their own natural way.

You have to be successful

We all want to be successful. Men are more likely to take the risks needed to have their own business.

Engage in watching pornography more

Now, this is a problem. I agree. I am starting to look at what porn does to a man’s way of thinking. And I am starting to see what Pornography does to a man’s thought process. But it isn’t an objectification of women like many people want to think. Yet it does take away the connection to your wife if you are married. Yet I would say we need to look at why men turn to porn in the first place.

Emotionless

This is the natural inclination to stoicism men develop. This is a skill that men require not to turn their emotions off like a switch but to set their emotions off to the side until there is a proper time to process them. 

There is a problem with both sexes in that they will run from uncomfortable emotions. They will bury then so that they don’t have to experience them. This does cause problems and this problem is again in both sexes. This is where much of the problem of overeating comes in to play, along with alcoholism and drug addiction.

Have higher mental health problems

This is going to have some finger-pointing. I believe this is from many of the outside influences on the boys as they are growing up. The schools treat boys as if they are broken girls. Boys are not allowed to be boys. There is a fundamental difference between the two sexes and all of the postmodern deconstructionism that is going on in colleges these days adds only more mental health problems and confusion. Attacks on masculinity as being bad adds even more fuel wind to the tempest. There are no healthy debates going on. There is way too much tribalism. All of this has stifled real men and boys from being able to have healthy talks.

Trying to fix something that isn’t broke only breaks more stuff.

More prone to bullying

This is an increase across both sexes. This has gone on for centuries. Is bullying a problem? It can be but if you can teach a boy to be stoic and let him understand that each man has the ability to disarm the bully by using confidence. Any time you stand out from the crowd people is going to try to pull you down. This is called The Tall poppy syndrome. I talked about this in episode 23.

I also see bullying as a normal rite of passage. It does strengthen you for life. You will face assholes all along your journey you have how do you deal with them? You have teachers who will not like you you will have upper-level managers who see you as a threat. You will have people who will delight in making your life hell. How do you deal with this normal everyday occurrence? You learn from them.

One of the best ways to teach confidence for kids in school is to help them learn that they have power. That can mean that they have to bloody a bully’s nose at some time. That is actually a good thing it teaches the bully that their actions are not accepted and that you never know who you‘re messing with. So get your kid into some type of martial arts. They learn to fight when it is needed.

Lack of friends to talk to

Look at young boys they make friends at the drop of a hat. This skill is lost as we get older. Look at 45-year-old men they may only have 1 or 2 close friends. This on their head it isn’t because men can’t have friends it is because we get caught up in the grind of life. Helping our families. This is a problem but it isn’t strictly associated with men I know many women who have only 1 or 2 close friends.

Will stand by and watch

This is a societal problem. Not only do men stand by and let injustice happen but I see just as many women standing to the side with their phone’s camera out and recording.

What are men in reality

Men actually do the following

We protect those close to us

We do stand up for those who are our family. If the need arises we will fight. We will resort to violent actions. We may not want to but we will. This is why men go to war. They believe in a cause and are willing to put their lives on the line.

This is where many of the Man Box categories are actually put to good use. War is risky so when being raised up this is why boys take more risk. We naturally train ourselves to do fearless activities. It shows us that 90% of the time we won’t actually die from being uncomfortable. 

We have the needed aggression to do the hard work. That aggression is also used so that we go after what we want. We don’t give up just because something is in our way.

The lack of emotions that these studies find also helps in protecting our families. WE do have to act in moments of fear and high stress. When loud explosions are going on around us we have to know there is a time and a place for everything and paying attention to the amygdala on a battlefield will often get you shot. This is called Stoicism and it is a good thing for men to have. So we aren’t just standing in the middle of a crowd boohooing. 

Men serve their community

WE have friends and working or running a business is serving the community. We have to take risks to run a business. We can’t succumb to fear when making a business decision because it will most likely be the wrong choice.

Men provide for their family

This is us reaping the rewards of serving the community. Life is a set of transactions and that sounds cold to many who think capitalism is wrong but it is a fact. You cant receive unless you give. This goes with respect, Having a wife, having friends, and having a business.

Without many aspects of the Man Box, you cant have a stable society. These social constructs have been with us for many millennia. They serve us well and they are there for a damn good reason.

Now I will say I agree with Tony at the end of his talk. Because in all reality I am doing a lot on this site to do what he thinks needs to be done to fix the Man Box. He stats that is it ok to not be dominating. It is OK to have feelings and emotions. It is OK to promote equality, it is OK to have women who are just friends, That it is ok to be whole.

That is what I do on this site and this podcast. If you go through and look we talk a hell of a lot about emotions and what they are and why they are good to have. Equality is always something we all strive for real equality not to sacrifice one person's rights gifts and give them to a different person who someone arbitrarily feels needs more rights and special help. We all have the ability to be successful. And there would be more successful with less victim mindset. When we have the stoicism and integrity in your life you can have women as friends. 

Other Relaxed Male posts about Toxic Masculinity

There is No Toxic Masculinity Because Our Boys Aren’t Broken

Let Boys be Boys

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