#but there's a lot of things you internal as a wee baby child that are just Not True

[cheshire-castle-library]

Long personal post but TLDR:

happiness is stored in the neon gay pyromaniac, and I have yet to unlearn the "Good Little Girls Are Disciplined and Helpful, Regardless of Their Opinions, Needs, or Pains" Southern Christian mentality and I'd really like to.

This really is so dumb!! I've been in like a multiple day depression, brought on by school and I couldn't get out of it. I couldn't even bring myself to post "semester started" studyblr stuff, I mean I took a picture and then decided "yeah this isn't worth it" and was like getting to a point that nothing was worth the effort. Which is, you know, really really bad when you are in higher education, where everything takes effort - and especially being neurodivergent, which makes things take extra effort because the world is not made for us.

But you know its friday night, and I took the time to make my dad a margarita because he's had a hell of a couple weeks and he needed the care, and while I was at it I took the time to make myself boba, because a friend was showing off her boba and boba sounded really good - but since its flooding out here, i can't really go out and i really hope the boba shop is closed and the family that runs it is not running it in the flood - so I pulled out the little sauce crock pot we use on thanksgiving and decided "yeah, boba takes time any way, so this will be a really nice treat for the end of the work day", and somewhere along the way something reminded me of Promare, and Promare sounded like a good idea to watch and Promare is one of the 2 main things I ever have brain worms about, so I sat working on something I needed to do that would take time and I'd lose focus on if I didn't have something to watch.

And wouldn't you know it, I had enough spoons by the end to actually wash my face! Which is like the number 1 (one) thing I skip when the spoons are running out. (Face won't rot out of my mouth if I neglect it, so if its between teeth and face on spoons, teeth win; not because the executive functions are working, but because the "failure" of "getting a cavity" and more importantly the autistic "losing something that's mine" hits and I get anxious about my teeth, so there's a little overshare for you.) But like!! It feels like a whole new world right now!!

One of my best friends was like "sometimes you just need to watch the thing that makes the most good brain chemical", and have i just been starving myself of the good brain chemical all week??

So yeah in conclusion, happiness is stored in the neon gay pyromaniac, and I have yet to unlearn the "Good Little Girls Are Disciplined, Helpful and Do The Right Thing (That's Most Productive For Every One Else Around You)" southern christian lesson and I'm not sure how to fix that.

[unwelcome-ozian]

we vaguely remember coming across something like this in chainless slaves, but can't find it when we check. so what happens is this: we have a grandfather clock that plays nursery rhymes as triggers for programmed parts, and we haven't been able to get it to stop because the highest part in the hierarchy keeps 'fixing' it. when our therapist asked her why, she said that if the clock stops, a clay giant will come out of the ground and smash everything, which will kill the body. what i'm asking is: how do we deal with this safely? lots of parts don't want to hurt the giant, and any attempts to wake him might be seen as an attempt to stop the clock.

Here are a few things from Chainless Slaves that sound like what you're asking.

Clock maker and Clock holder Parts-Parts that insure the inter clocks continue to function, and replace internal clocks should they be stopped or damaged.

Nursery Rhyme programming-Nursery rhymes are constructed to activate designated alters that are usually sleepers. A Tisket A Tasket, Baa, Baa, Black Sheep is used for money laundering scripts, and drug money or drug carrying scripts. Bye, Baby Bunting is used with where the subject child is placed within a skin, cocoon programming with a butterfly coming forth or near death experiences. Diddle, Diddle Dumpling, Ding, Dong Bell, Hickory Dickery Dock are used for internal clocks.

Time programming-Used in conjunction with internal trees, clocks, flowers, hourglasses, and other symbols that show the passages of time. This programming ensures the system is coordinated with holidays, call backs, and other designs the programmer desires.

Ultimately you and your system will know the answers to the questions I’m going to ask. I’m going to ask some questions to help sort things out.

Is the giant real? (programmers a known to lie) If the giant is real what is the other way to reach them? What or who is the giant protecting? What do others know about the giant? Do they have a name?

Is there another angle such as addressing the suicide/self destruct programming before stopping the clock? Or other programming/parts related to the clock.

What is the reason the clock is there?

Good for the part working so hard to keep the system safe and alive. She might be a wee bit frustrated that people keep trying to stop the clock. What are her thoughts? She has access to the clock and seems to be able to change the time. What things does she feel she can do?

Take Care,

Oz

[balladofthewhitehorse]

Concept

A deeply flawed individual, England does struggle to keep or make friends - even now in this age where he's striving to get a better peg on his anger issues (therapy is...baby-steps with this guy and he does not tend to admit easily the pain he's caused others). Externally, he's proud and stubborn, oft shrugging off small acts of kindness or things that he deems otherwise as 'sappy' (which really, can be a lot of things, England almost seems to decline affection the principle notion that it makes him weak somehow). Internally, however, England appreciates the smallest acts. His older brother - Scotland - has a tendency to give people nicknames like 'Wee Hen' and in England's case, ever since he was a child, Scot has called him 'Wee Puppy' (in reference to the Black Shuck and countless black dogs of English folklore). As an adult, he oft tells Scot to cut it out or glares at him or simply ignores it; Internally, England appreciates it more than he can put to words, as it reminds him of the fact that he really is Scotland's little brother and there must be something in him that Scotland still considers his brother, even after every horrible thing he has done. It's one of the things that keeps him trying to get better, step by step - however small and however terrible he feels, he just tries to cling on to that fact; And maybe one day, he'll learn how to tell Scotland 'Thank you.'

[phoenixyfriend]

I personally would *really* like to know more about Mace's intro to General Obi-Wan, and how Anakin and Obi-Wan interact in the mind space now. That's got to be so weird, right? Though I bet it's VERY useful when the kids are having some emotion or issue that they can't quantify or explain, or that they don't want to explain: ask the grownup versions and they'll be able to say what's going down. But I mean, in mind-space does OW & A's relationship average out into 'very affectionate (cont)

(cont) brothers who are *very* invested in each other's well being? (They can have the Dad conversation of 'please eat your veggies' from EITHER direction!) I'm imagining, just, a lot of lounging on each other. Mace is introduced to the older versions via meditation and the first thing OW does, even before saying hello, is stroll over to A, sit down, throw his legs across his lap and lean into his side. Also, imagine A coming to OW for advice in meditation, and Ben going to A for advice IRL.

My favorite part of the Jedi Babies AU is what adult!Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin is like in the meditation-area, is what I'm saying. Followed by how the mini-versions of Soka and Ben act out in real space. The whole thing with them very seriously researching local law so they can hold accurate trials with their stuffed animals was adorable, and I loved how foreboding and mystic Ahsoka came off in the Dooku conversation.

I went back and re-read a bunch of the Jedi babies posts and I have to admit, this: "He gets headaches if he tries to think like an adult for too long, so he shifts between “Master Kenobi, helping Anakin figure out how to fix the world” and “literal child who just wants a nap and cuddles.”" actually probably answers all of my questions and means that adult!OW's relationship with Anakin is probably much the same, just. Still with more cuddles. And prob. with better communication/ less criticism.

OKAY SO (human) babies are like. Wired to require human contact. It's a chemical thing. If you hold a baby, the baby's body will make oxytocin and stuff like that, and the baby will be happy!

(And also not die. Babies can absolutely die without enough physical contact.)

So IRL/waking Soka and Ben are in a position where they constantly crave physical contact, because they are So Damn Young. Obviously, the main provider of that contact is Anakin, and each other, and Shmi, so they're pretty quickly accustomed to being really, really tactile with 'Dad.'

This transfers to the adult shared mindspace, in that they're so used to hugs and cuddles with Anakin that they all just kind of... drift together. The shaping of that physical contact isn't the same, for a variety of reasons, but there's a lot of leaning against each other, Soka lying down with her head in someone's lap, Anakin and Ben making sure their shoulders touch when they sit down, etc. When meeting Mace, they sit so that Anakin's got his arm over Ben's shoulders, which isn't that weird of a position for two adult men who consider each other brothers. They're less tactile, if only because adult General Kenobi can't crawl into Anakin's lap the way the kid version can, but there's still skinship and shared body heat and hugs. It's only weird if you remember that the older of them is currently the slightly creepy eight-year-old you met half an hour ago.

They are undeniably family in every manner, though. That part is never in question.

It's a little weird, moreso for Ben than for Soka. She's gone from little sister to daughter, but she's still 'younger female family member, who views Anakin as a loving authority on account of being an older family member.'

Ben's gone from parent to child, and when a solid 98% of his time is spent as the child, but the history is that of being the parent and being the one with advice, it's weird. They still mostly manage to make it work, though, because meeting up in the mindspace is usually done only for strategizing and whatnot, and gets less and less necessary as they get older. Soka's headaches-when-I-try-to-think-with-my-full-history taper off by the time she's about eighteen, physically; she’s actually two years older than she was at the point of time travel, by that point, but she’s got thirty years of memories so her brain needs a wee bit extra time to grow to hold all of it. Ben... I want to say early twenties for him, because he's got so much more to process.

By that point, they're... not quite who they were, but they're not exactly fresh new people, either. It was never a case of whether or not they'd 'meld,' because they were never really separate, just unable to access everything and limited by the wiring they had. As they can process more and more, they think with some of their old methods (e.g. critical thinking on how to assess propaganda, strategy patterns to approach a battlefield, rebuilding habits for lightsaber usage that they remember in theory but don't actually feel natural yet) in tandem with learning new ones from their new environment (e.g. learning Mandalorian battle logic, Tatooine survival priorities).

There's like. A whole thing in my brain about how Mandalorian, Tatooine, Jedi, Coruscanti, and Shili cultural and logic patterns interact.

WORD OF NOTE: I was an international business major who focused on intercultural communications and marketing. I'm thinking about these in terms of like... Hofstede's cultural dimensions and that whole thing where (I can't remember the actual term) a proper sentence in Russian looks like a run-on in English because the way we structure things looks completely different, and the way information is supposed to be presented when written in order for a person to optimally process what they're reading is completely different due to how we're all trained to learn, and when you pair that with the child psychology aspect of also learning new languages with adjusted neuroplasticity while slowly regaining access to full adult memories as time passes in which you have familiar but completely different cultural values that you now have to reconcile with the things you've learned to consider important with the people who are raising you--

I have a lot of thoughts on this sort of thing.

To put it lightly.

[corancoranthemagicalman]

Okay so I thought of this all in the shower so it's a wee bit messy but like TL;DR do you think Dean was paralleled to John in his Widower Arc and if so, what does that say about how John treated Sam vs how Dean treated Jack?:

Canonically, Sam Winchester was most like John in the earlier seasons. More distinctly, Dean was not like John despite trying to be. Yeah, Dean drove Baby and he wore the jacket, but those are all the marks of someone trying to fit into a shadow and not being their own man. When Sam walked away from Stanford, he was his own man. And in his grief for Jessica, we see how he paralleled John with his hunt for revenge.

Interestingly, Dean raised Sammy in opposition to how John raised them. While I'm not here to enter the great John Winchester debate, I am here to say that according to John's canonical journal, Sam's first word was Dean and that means something. [At least, I'm pretty sure I read that in his journal. I don't even remember anymore. These are thoughts and nothing more.]

[Also, that being said, while I’m not here to debate John Winchester’s parernting, if you think there were no issues with how he raised his boys then this post is not for you. My John Winchester feelings are for another post, though because they are hella complicated.]

But anyways, obviously Dean made sure Sam had holidays and birthdays and dinners when John wasn't there. And we hardly get any flashback of John that wasn't centered around a hunt. So, textually Dean was Sam’s parent. His big brother who raised him is much more accurate, but this is important in reaffirming that Dean Winchester is fairly Mary-coded.

Dean's growth from defending his father against Sam to calling his dad out to his own inner demon was a big ol' chef's kiss. He literally calls how he sees his father's personality - "an obsessed bastard." [Can you tell I obsess over that line? It’s so good.]

Still despite this, despite the meta-narrative contrasting how Dean [Mary-coded] influenced Sam, when All Along The Watchtower happened, when Castiel was pierced by Lucifer's blade, some part of Dean went out the window.

He had parts of his father's personality. He can get obsessive. He does drink. Etc, etc, etc.... but here we see him reach his father's level of obsessive and drinking. This is Dean's Widower Arc.

Surprisingly, despite Dean being Mary-coded and early season Castiel being John-coded (I'm just saying.... perfect solider. All he knows. Obsessive to the point of Bad Decisions Baby~. They're not exactly alike by any means, but there was some similarities. But this might have been sharing similarities with Dean and these similarities within Dean were parts of his father that he was projecting onto himself. I digress---)

Despite all of that, in the Widower Arc, Castiel has become the girl on the ceiling. He is Mary-coded/Jess-coded. It's just instead of burning in fire on a ceiling his grace burned out from his body on a muddy floor. Which there's probably some symbolism there but so not the point of this post and I don’t know if I can mentally handle disecting that. Dean Winchester becomes his father.

I feel like they narratively did not draw enough attention to this. [Which ain’t that the same old song and dance? How much sustenance did this show have that they just... never used?] On one hand, Dean is truly excellent with kids. Truly. There's a lot of canon evidence proving this fact. And again, he literally raised Sam. However, whether due to his grief or Jack being Grown-Shaped or both, he never treats Jack like a child. Which is a direct parallel to how John treated his boys as soldiers. Except in this case, Dean doesn't see Jack as a soldier. He sees him as a weapon.

Do you see where I'm going with this.

Yellow Eyes/Lucifer kills Mary/Castiel because they want The Boy With The Demon Blood who shall be a weapon in the Apocalypse.

[Also, side step, if Lucifer is Yellow Eyes-coded for this story arc, then Mary taking him back into the Other World is THAT much more meaningful because she's taking down the demon who fridged her but anyways that's another digression---]

Obviously, it was Lucifer who killed Castiel and not Jack, but Dean blames Jack for Castiel's death. His mere existence made these things come after him, and Castiel defending his son is what got him killed.

Mary Winchester was killed because she tried to stop Yellow Eyes from getting what she promised him. She was killed defending her son.

We know John treated the boys differently. I know it was probably because Sam was a baby and Dean had a full four years on being dad's little soldier first, but---

And giving thought to the fact that Sam's Blood Addiction arc was working with the fact that he was monster coded---

Do you think, in John's grief, he blamed Sam for Mary's death and do you think this - whether intentionally or not - this was what Dean’s attitude toward Jack was paralleling?

Because that is canonical of Dean, internalizing grief into anger I mean. He feels such intense sorrow, but sorrow doesn't get work done. Anger does. So he gets angry and he stays angry and if he's angry at Jack, at least he's functioning.

I personally think it was A Choice™️ that John Winchester was not included in a lot of the arcs that Sam was going through that addressed him as The Boy With The Demon Blood. He was only really centered in arcs where Yellow Eyes was the forefront of his attention. And I also think it was A Choice™️ that John Winchester made a deal for Dean’s life. 

ACTUALLY I JUST LOOKED THAT UP TO MAKE SURE I WAS REMEMBERING THAT DEAL RIGHT AND--- AND JOHN LITERALLY TELLS DEAN TO KILL SAM IF HE TURNS EVIL. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD JACK KLINE IS SO SAM-CODED. I CANNOT----

Also, also --- what the fuck. According to the wiki it was established that John went to Hell for over a century and didn’t take up the offer to slice and dice for his moment off of the rack, but Dean Winchester did, and what does that mean in how Dean was raised even if he’s trying to be like his dad, and----

[That is SO another post.]

I don't know where I was going with this, honestly. I think I was just trying to give voice to numerous parallels they unintentionally established but never followed through with. My point was definitely to drive home that Jack Kline is Sam Winchester in Dean’s John-coded Arc.

And Dean's Widower Arc is just so meta-textual to me. Castiel subtextually dies in childbirth and Dean is left raising his kid with his brother and that's just SO MUCH to unpack that we apparently did not have time for and it drives me WILD.

Dean's Widower Arc is where I started my glass diet tbh.

[goron-king-darunia]

@hannikka Regarding a comment on this post. “i know this ask has nothing to do with me, but i will be honest with you, before you said to take this with a grain of salt i was going to fight you XD (not really, but still XD) because i definitely and actually fell in love as in real lovewhen i was very young and it lasted years, so i was horrified for a moment, but then again like you, said our experiences are not universa” Again, like I said, I have not been a child in a very long time and I am demisexual so my threshold for attraction is VERY different from the standard. I can only speak from my experiences as a child and what I’ve seen regarding other kids I’ve worked with. It’s not impossible to fall in love, real genuine love, as a kid. I just think that’s VERY rare for it to happen and it seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Obviously this is anectdotal rather than data driven and even then, in the USA, narratives involving children and romance are heavily sanitized because in the USA implying that children are people with feelings like adults is very scary strawberry territory for censors because god forbid we imply children are complex people. Even worse if we imply children and adults can be friends, good heavens. The USA tiptoes around intergenerational friendships like a plague corpse in the street because if something even remotely resembles pedophilia, it’s BAD. Like, the USA buries that shit so hard, to the point where when the Professor Layton games came out I was confused for the longest time about what relation Luke had to Layton because in the USA one does not simply just have a grown man mentoring a young boy that isn’t his son or a blood relative of some sort. Like... there were memes about Layton being a guy that kidnaps orphans because that, for some reason, seemed more probable than the actual explanation which is that Luke is the son of one of Latyon’s close friends, and he and Luke bonded over solving a mystery together in town. Hell, even Layton being adopted was kind of a revelation for me when that showed up in the narrative because the USA had a BAD track record of underrepresenting non-traditional family structures. So I’m sure my view on children is partially cultural as well. The USA doesn’t want to admit it but we’re STILL barely out of that old phase of “children should be seen and not heard” bullshit of treating kids like extensions of their parents and swung right around to some weird other extreme of “if we even acknowledge kids at all, we either make them wise beyond their years or infantalize them to hell and back because what even is a child anyway? Baby? Yeah, we know what that is. Helpless cinnamon roll that can never do anything bad ever. Teenager? Yeah we know what that is. That’s like that weird stage of development where you’re like an adult but with now power and lots of feelings and you’re terrible with everything. IDK if I just grew up overly sheltered (which is probably the case) but like... seeing all these new shows on Netflix that acknowledge that teenagers have sex feels... transgressive somehow. Like, I LIKE that we’re acknowledging it. Because we’ve known for ages it happens and clearly doing pearl-clutching and trying to pretend it doesn’t won’t stop teen pregnancy. But it feels so terribly RECENT that we’re actually not actively shoving that under the rug. The Lion King (the good animated one, not the CG one) firmly cemented in my head when I was a wee baby watching it that “friends” and “lovers” were separate categories (even though Nala and Simba are a couple, LOL) because like, yeah, thinking about getting married to my best friends was WEIRD (even at a time in my life when a lot of my friends were boys. XD) So I was totally with Simba when he was like “Ew, I can’t marry her! She’s my friend!” It’s really only been in recent years that the idea of friendship and romantic/sexual relationships aren’t mutually exclusive has become mainstream. Or at least, it’s only recently that I aged into a group where these stories were targeted. IDK, I feel like I’m getting into the weeds here and talking in circles. But the point is YES, I am totally only speaking from my own experiences here, I am 100% not an authority, I am only giving an opinion, and my opinion is largely shaped by experiences and media that are not universal by any means. XD. I was relatively sheltered, have conservative parents, was a neuroatypical child and still am neuroatypical as an adult, turned out to be demisexual which is pretty different considering most of the world is some flavor of allosexual, an I grew up in the USA where basically the only acceptable adult/child relationships are parent/child and teacher/student (and if you’re a teacher you’re on thin fucking ice, fucking YIKES) because the USA treats every other possible interaction between an adult and child as highly suspect. The only factors I have mitigating these views is that I’ve worked with kids and took developmental psychology in college. So I am aware children are a lot more complex than the culture in the USA gives them credit for being. Children aren’t some weird alien species. They’re largely just very tiny adults with very little power/little ability to act on their agency and very little experience. I have met 10 year olds I would trust more than I trust myself, honestly. Kids that are more mature than me and just... understand things I would definitely NOT have at the same age. So, like, again, I’m not saying it’s impossible for kids to fall in love. I’m just saying that usually kids aren’t concerned with that, and when they ARE, they’re usually practicing the particulars of love. but this is just from my own childhood and my limited experience working with grade school kids. Kids I worked with were far more interested in friendships than romances, and as a kid, my romantic interests were, like, Link from Ocarina of Time and I couldn’t decide if I liked fucking Knuckles the Echidna as a dad or as a boyfriend and I think I settled on dad material because I have an old old old illustrated story that I might have even uploaded here where Knuckles is my dad. XD So, like, for real, take my opinions with a FAT grain of salt because I am literally just a goofy goober and have been in exactly 2 romantic relationships and one of them only lasted a year. XD (The other is basically from college until now which is practically 10 years, but also largely long-distance so, like. Definitely not the usual experience. XD) But also, for real, if I say something controversial, weird, or just plain wrong, you can 100% feel free to fight me because I am an idiot and I say dumb shit all the time. That one debunked post that went around about the “Azhar Library bombing” is a big case in this. XD I am basically an educated adult child. I know some things, but more than anything I know enough to realized that I actually know VERY LITTLE and my whole life should be a learning experience. So I am absolutely not opposed to being wrong and getting taught things because that’s honestly half the reason I’m even remotely as good a person as I am today because I was a garbage kiddo and a garbage teenager and still probably a garbage young adult and was educated out of it. I have a lot of internalized beliefs that were changed because of college and listening to people online, and I can only learn more and grow more my having good friends throw down and fight me over stuff when I say a dumb thing. XD Literally I am probably only on the Left because good people educated me on politics when no one else would. I legit could have been one of those awful cases of a disenchanted teen that was led down the alt-right pipeline. Scary to think of but my parents weren’t teaching me so thankfully better people stepped up to do it. So, legit, you are welcome to fight me any time, man. I want to learn. I want to be inoculated against bad ideas and educated away from any bad opinions I hold.

[jumnthepurestbean]

Rfa+V, Saeran&Vanderwood find out MC has a daughter from a past relationship (young like maybe 3?) Maybe she wasn't with her before the party because MC was finding her footing in a new town or something. Thank you if you write

*falls to the floor* I’m back! Again! Sorry, everyone, I got sick right as I started answering asks and then Christmas happened. But thank you so, so much for this ask. I absolutely adore it. Also, I gave MC’s daughter a named (Ji-yoon). It just made it a little bit easier. Hope you don’t mind.

RFA + V, Saeran & Vanderwood x MC with a daughter

Jumin

I imagine that MC told Jumin about her daughter during his route.

She uses her experience as a mother to help Jumin understand why Chairman Han might be doing the things that he’s doing.

After the chaos of the party, Jumin has to restrain himself from immediately wanting to be part of this child’s life.

I headcanon that not only does Jumin adore kids but once he’s in a relationship with MC, he considers her family, his family.

He also thinks it is important for children to have strong adult role models and her father not being in the picture could hurt her development.

However, he lets MC control how quickly he establishes a relationship with Ji-yoon. MC is her mother, so she would know when the right time was.

That won’t stop him from doing large amounts of research on children and being a step-parent. Also the adoption process

When Jumin finally meets little Ji-yoon, his heart melts. She’s a little shy, holding onto MC’s hand and wearing a little hoodie with cat ears.

Jumin will bend down to her level (which is hilarious because imagine this tall man in a 3,000 dollar suit bending down on the floor) “Hello, do you like cats?” He asks pointing to her cat ears.

She nods.

“Would you like to meet Elizabeth III?”

Doesn’t even mind that Ji-yoon calls her Elly! She’s the only one allowed to.

Yoosung

MC waits until Yoosung is fully recovered to tell him about Ji-yoon.

She is a bit nervous because they are both young and still trying to figure out their lives. But she doesn’t want to keep secrets from Yoosung.

Sits him down and explains how she was much more reckless when she was in high school.

Yoosung, of course, assures MC that this doesn’t change anything and the he is more than happy to help her with Ji-yoon.

Internally...he’s panicking a little.

He’s still just a college student and can’t really support himself, let alone MC and a child.

He realizes why MC seems to so mature, she’s had to grow up quickly in order to be a mother.

Well, if she had to do that, then so will he! He’ll help in any way he can!

Probably calls him mom for help...

But still, he wants to make sure MC has a happy life.

Is a nervous wreck when he finally meets Ji-yoon.

“Yoosungie!” Ji-yoon toddles over to him and hugs him.

They are now best friends forever!!! They play games together. They hang out. They eat dinner.

It’s so precious.

Zen

WHO HURT YOU

After Zen is calmed down from wanting to get on his motorcycle and hunt down whoever hurt MC then he’s about as eager to start helping MC raise Ji-yoon as Jumin.

This also motives Zen to work even more hard. He didn’t really care that he didn’t have the best food in the world to eat but this precious being will have the best of the best dammit!

Will even consider taking up Jumin’s cat commercial offers, holy shit this man is serious

He will work extra hard in order to baby proof his apartment and get some quality food.

When he finally meets Ji-yoon she’s hiding behind MC’s skirts.

“Hi, Ji-yoon, I’m Zen.”

She slowly peeks out and stares at him for a moment. “I like your hair.”

Knock out.

Zen beams at her. “Thank you. I like your hair too.”

Idk where to put this but just imagine Zen having Ji-yoon and her little friends over and just...braiding train.

Jaehee

Out of all the RFA members, MC tells Jaehee the soonest about Ji-yoon.

She’s so level headed that MC knows Jaehee will be cool with it.

And Jaehee is.

Jaehee knows how hard it is for a single mother to raise her child after watching her mom so she does everything to support MC.

Zen gets just a wee bit jealous when Jaehee starts to fangirl more when she sees pictures of Ji-yoon then selfies of him.

But he understands, the kid is adorable.

Just about dies when Jaehee meets Ji-yoon and she calls Jaehee “Auntie Jaehee”

Ji-yoon becomes the cafe’s official taste tester.

Though Jaehee makes sure that she doesn’t eat too many sweets!

Has a framed picture of Ji-yoon and MC in her cafe’s office.

Saeyoung

New about Ji-yoon because of the research he did on MC.

Adds this to the reasons why MC should not get involved with him.

However, he does make sure to keep an eye on the rugrat to make sure she stays safe.

He is adamant that there is no way Seven could be a good father figure, hell he didn’t even have one until V.

However, once he lets go and starts to let MC in, he starts to let Ji-yoon in.

Then Ji-yoon and Seven meet.

Her little smile and contagious laugh is what really does it for him.

He can’t help but want to dedicate everything to protecting MC and Ji-yoon.

V

When MC tells V about Ji-yoon this encourages him better himself.

He really cares for MC but he can’t love MC or Ji-yoon if he doesn’t love himself first.

So he strives to become better.

Then when he’s finally ready to be in a relationship with MC, he’s actually the most nervous out of the entire RFA to meet Ji-yoon.

They meet at a park and he sees MC with a little girl.

He bends down and quietly says. “Are you Ji-yoon.”

“Yeah, are you Jihyun?”

“I am.”

Ji-yoon stands on her tip toes and gently takes a lock of V’s hair. “I like your hair.”

V laughs and thanks her, bending to let her see it. “Thank you, my mother had the same color.”

“It’s pretty...Mommy says you like to draw. Can I see?”

Saeran

Doesn’t know what to do about this.

He’s never really been around children and he hasn’t had the best parental figures.

So, he’s a nervous bean.

But he does know that Ji-yoon is important to MC, so throughout his route, he does everything he can to protect her.

Then comes the time when he finally meets her.

MC decides for Saeran to meet Ji-yoon in his garden because that’s where he’s most comfortable.

They’re both wearing pink. It’s so cute.

Saeran realizes that talking to children is a lot easier than talking to adults.

Ji-yoon is so sweet and loves listening to Saeran talking about flowers!

Vanderwood

Nope.

Already doesn’t want to get close to MC because of his dangerous life.

But a she has a rugrat running around?

N-O-P-E. Nope.

But then he meets her.

It takes a lot of convincing on MC’s part but he finally decides to meet her.

Immediately wants to play with his cape. “Are cheetah’s your favorite animal?”

Blushing Vanderwood. “Yeah.”

“It looks cool!”

“...well MC, at least your kid has some style.”

MC will get her own cheetah print cape, like Vanderwood’s.

They will wear it together.

It will be adorable.

If you’re feeling generous then go over to my ko-fi!

[radlydias]

(VIRGINIA GARDNER, CIS FEMALE) - Have you seen LYDIA RADCLIFFE? LIDDY is in HER SOPHOMORE year. The ENGLISH MAJOR is 21 years old & is a PISCES. People say SHE is GENTLE, POLISHED, GLOOMY and PARANOID. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE HAD AN AFFAIR WITH HER SENIOR YEAR ENGLISH TEACHER WHICH RESULTED IN A PREGNANCY.  THE BABY WAS ADOPTED TO HIDE THE SCANDAL.  

tw: teen pregnancy & adoption

hello !  my name is bea and i’m super excited to be here!  please let me know if you are interested in plotting with my wee babe lydia.  i’m eager to see what she gets into here at yates.  i tried to keep this intro short and sweet, liddy is a new character for me so i’m sure i’ll post more things as i develop her further!

there was never a time when lydia didn’t know that after high school she would be attending yates university.  she was raised in vermont by two wealthy alumni, a legacy family in the making.  her entire schooling career was preparing her for the day she would walk through the yates courtyard as a student.

she’s always had a passion for reading and writing.  as a little girl she would stay up late, snuggled up with a good book.  she would hide herself in her closet with a flashlight reading the iliad, shakespeare, and harry potter.

it was no surprise when she entered school that she excelled in english.  throughout middle & high school she won several awards for her poetry, short stories, and literary essays.  she’s showed her work at conferences across the country and spent a summer interning at the library of congress, an honor usually reserved for college students

another joy liddy found in childhood was her love of playing the piano.  it seemed to come natural to her, though it probably helped that she had one of the best piano teachers in the city, and a desire to practice whenever she could.  as she got older, her parents encouraged her in her craft, but it was always treated as nothing more than a hobby and nothing to pursue as a career.  lydia tended to refer to it as her guilty pleasure.

her senior year, lydia found herself caught up in something she never expected.  she was used to spending a lot of time with her english teachers.  the english classroom was her second home.  but this time she realized she was developing feelings for her teacher, and it turned into a secret affair they were able to keep under wraps until disaster struck.  (**as a side note, i just wanted to throw in that lydia was eighteen at the time of the affair)  

about a month before graduation, lydia discovered she was pregnant.  she was terrified, but she was in love.  in her perfect world, she’d put off college, she’d run away with her love and her baby and read dickens to her child in her garden and be happy.  but of course...she knew that was never an option.  because the love of her life was married and had a life of his own, and she had expectations to meet and a family image to uphold.  teen pregnancy and a torrid affair was absolutely out of the question. 

her parents were horrified to learn of lydia’s wrongdoings.  after graduation, she was hid away from the world, whisked away to an aunt’s house in another state to have the baby in secret.  her parents told their friends that she was taking a gap year to study abroad in various historical sites & libraries across europe.  

after her daughter was born, she was promptly adopted by a family her parents found.  the entire transaction was very discreet.  without her parent’s knowledge, lydia quietly asked the family to send her a letter every year with a few details of her daughters life as long as they didn’t mind, and they agreed.

with the pregnancy kept under wraps, lydia was easily accepted to yates the following fall, and her freshman year was invited into the hastings society due to her literary and even musical accomplishments. 

lydia has had a bit of trouble finding herself again after the affair and the baby.  besides for her hormones being thrown for a loop, she lost a great love, and she was in a new place without her old friends or comforts. 

she has a job in the library which is one of her favorite places on campus.  she doesn’t really need to work as her parents are funding her college experience,  but she likes spending time there.

she’s changed quite a bit since her ordeal.  the girl who once cared about nothing but her scholarly pursuits was left back in high school.  she still feels the weight of needing to please her parents, but she’s trying to find more of herself too.  she knows she has to be someone beyond studying.  she wants to branch out, she wants to have fun.  she’s just afraid of opening herself up again for the first time since her pregnancy.  but deep down, she truly is a happy, passionate young woman.

tldr; lydia is a big fat book nerd who got knocked up by her high school english teacher and took a gap year to have the baby before yates.  heartbroken & hormonal, she now longs to explore new things and maybe stop being so boring.

wanted connections 

friends - give my sweet baby some pals! people she trusts. people that give her new experiences.  sometimes she’s a tad bit gloomy since her high school scandal, so i’d love some people that can break through her shell.  some close friends, acquaintances, literally anything.  

romantic - lydia is bisexual, but she doesn’t entirely know it yet.  she’s explored that side of her, and i’d love for her to be able to do that at yates.  that being said, i’m open to all types of romantic relationships for her here !! 

roommate - i’m not sure if the hastings dorms are singles or doubles or beyond, but i’m open to the idea of lydia having a roommate or two!

coworkers & classmates - maybe anyone she works with at the library, or sits next to in class, etc.

anything!! we can brainstorm!  i’m open to all types of interesting connections & drama hehe.  

[callme--starchild]

Tougher than Toughies

Summary: Scrooge McDuck is known as the most rude person in Duckburg, if not worldwide. He has never been seen to be afraid because he was not afraid of anything. Anything, except to see his wee nephew in danger.

Scrooge was running through the streets of Duckburg in his limousine, sweat running down to his whiskers despite the strong wind that hit his face thanks to the speed with which he drove the vehicle. He could feel his heart buzzing in his eardrums and his hands shaking as he held the steering wheel tightly, the note written with letters from local newspapers and magazines repeating itself over and over again in his memory though he had barely looked at it.

He usually used to downplay those things. A simple encounter, some maneuvers here and there, he won, he called the police or he simply received another attempt of threat, he recovered his money or the possession that was stolen or lost during an adventure and returned to the manor or the money bin according to the circumstances.

The word ransom had fallen like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer afternoon, though.

To celebrate their anniversary, Quackmore and Hortense had gone out to dinner. Della had gone to the farm with Elvira, happy to make a sleepover with Gladstone and her baby cousin Fethry—which was basically trying to stay up all night watching movies until their sleep schedule starting at 9:00 PM, 7:00 for the younger cousin, defeated them—but the enmity between Donald and Gladstone, especially from the older duck, had made both parents insist on leaving him with his uncle.

Scrooge didn't mind. That is, he has taken care of both Donald and Della more than he could assure, he was already accustomed to the presence of one or two children. A movie or two, have dinner, watch that they brush their teeth properly, bathe them and let them play—under the condition of being silent—in the studio while he was in charge of work until the time of the stories arrived, a good night kiss and keep working until the dream finally comes over him.

It had been that way. Donald was so used to the routine implemented by his uncle that he did not need to emphasize at the time what he had to do. The boy was so committed to satisfying his caregiver that he even saw the way in which he spent less time showering so as not to spend a lot of water, aware of how much money he cared about.

In addition, Scrooge assured, the boy wanted to use less time on trifles to spend more time with him until he starts to yawn when the clock strikes 9:00. He loved him, maybe admired him, and he couldn't blame him for it. For him it was even a compliment to be the inspiration of future generations.

Intelligence, bravery, insight, fortune. Modesty aside, it was what defined him, and what he hoped would define his nephew and niece. They were McDucks after all, the adventure was in their blood.

So why was he so sure how much Hortense would kill him?

How on earth had he received a ransom note where his nephew was the hostage? Curse his kilts! He had checked three times that he was asleep and safe in his bedroom, and discovering that Donald's bed was empty and his room was a disaster made him fear the worst.

How they had managed to avoid the cameras, their keen senses and meet Duckworth was not sure, and he really didn't care, he just wanted to know that the child whose well-being should watch was safe and sound.

He could feel his dime hitting his chest, the cold and now sweaty texture of the coin against his warm body in the wake of blood flowing rapidly through his veins.

Fortunately, the streets of the city were quieter at that time of night, otherwise he would have multiple chances of car accidents and fines for exceeding the speed limit stepping his tail feathers. But Scrooge knew it was justifiable if the life of a lovely and innocent duckling was in danger.

In fact, deep down he wondered why he had taken a vehicle as striking as the limo when he could have been more discreet and asked for a cab. Though it will cost him to pay to a low-cost transportation's driver that would probably ignore his orders to drive faster in order to respect traffic laws, the Beagle family would not have suspected it.

But hey, he was Scrooge McDuck, who threw himself headlong into danger and acted on instinct rather than reason when opportunity presented itself, and the holiness of his bairn merited it. The limo was the first thing presented in his field of vision as soon as he received the note, and had come up without telling Duckworth any explanation.

He skidded as soon as he visualized the entrance to the dump, holding his top hat as soon as it fell from his head, adjusting it again, holding the brim while he was in charge of turning off the vehicle.

Breathing harshly, he tried to get up from his seat, being pulled back into it, feeling his hat fall again when he realized he was still wearing the seat belt.

He grunted as he took it off with clumsy wrist movements, despair flowing even more through his veins as he sensed the silent place, surely expectant upon his arrival.

Finally removing the belt, he quickly descended from the limo, sighing heavily when a light cool breeze sailed through his feathers. He fervently took his cane, aware of needing it in his condition and properly secured the locks before closing his door, allowing the full moon to witness the glare that rooted his face.

He pushed with more force than necessary to open the huge gate of the dump, being immediately struck by the stench of garbage and burnt wood, adding the smell of oil, excessive gasoline and even alcoholic beverages. He grimaced at the mixture of substances, with the thought of a five-year-old boy barely tolerating these aromas that made him follow.

He was sure that the disorder generated by the Beagle family would eventually drive him crazy, but he preferred to give in to madness as soon as he found Donald in the junkyard.

Internally he prayed to any known God and for knowing that his nephew remained the same elusive imp he has taken care of.

The hand holding the cane was shaking uncontrollably, a huge lump in his throat disqualified him from the opportunity to even swallow, and he was alert to any broken glass or scrap that could be scattered on the floor.

Though it did not seem so, the old duck tried to remain stoic, concentrated, and especially ready for any confrontation he could face; the love he had taken for his little nephew, however, clouded his mind.

Out of the possibility that Hortense will find a way to give his money to charity upon learning of Donald's current whereabouts, he had really managed to establish a healthy relationship with him, where manners learned at home coupled with the boy's good behavior—problems and innocent jokes apart—had sat the harmony between them.

He could swear that it was such harmony that guided him through that maze of cars, with the laughter of children that surprised Scrooge, the simple idea of more children trapped making him nauseous.

Because if so, he would fight as much as he could to return each child with their families.

"Who invited McDuck?!" He looked up, and there was the matriarch of the criminal family interrupting his thoughts. Soon, and to the partial relief of that duck, the woman was surrounded by children of different complexions and sizes: her multiple sons.

Unfortunately none was the boy he wanted to see.

"Seriously, who was the fool who sent a ransom note? We were supposed to use the child to enter the mansion!"

Well, there was his.

"Ye have somethin' tha' belongs tae me," he growled, allowing the poison to drag his words and importing little if he scared one or more little children in the family, and banging the tip of the cane against the dirt in a strange tune, "and Ah willnae leave from here until Ah hav'it back."

Ma Beagle didn't even pity a desperate father figure, smiling maliciously as she stroked the head of one of her children with disdain.

"You should know the price, McDuck. You should know without the need to write it with crayons. After all, isn't your dear nephew's life the most valuable to you?" Dragging the last words, she did not flinch when Scrooge groaned again.

It was true. Donald had been the key piece for him to learn to care about someone other than himself, for that older brother who yearned for a stable life for his parents and younger sisters to be reborn.

He would not lie, through the years and seeing his nephew grow, he felt grateful for the trust Hortense had placed in him despite not having considered a role model.

Therefore, he knew that Donald was worth a lot more than all the money acquired since his first dime.

"Unca' Scrooge!" A sharp squawk broke the tense silence that had formed, only that enough for the Scotsman to feel his heartbeat again.

The hair feathers were visually disheveled, his always expressive and bright eyes were swollen and red, destroying the older one, a button on his onesie had disjointed and one of his slippers and his sleeping cap were missing. Surely the surprise, he supposed.

But outside the unfortunate state in which they had left the lad, he was physically untouched. And that installed a partially large relief on him.

"Donald!" Exclaimed Scrooge, jubilant to see the face of the youngest.

For the first time since the impact, the duckling's face radiated joy despite how much his eyes burned, a consequence of the time he was drying his tears.

However, before he even had the chance to walk to his uncle, Donald was surprised when a firm hand held his pajamas neck and soon his feet were off the ground.

Isn't he a charm?" Ma Beagle asked mockingly, watching with amusement how the little duck writhed in her grip, trying to break free. "A bit difficult, though. You have to look at him all the time."

"Leave him alone!" No, his voice had definitely not trembled or heard more harsh, much less his accent had been marked intensely.

Because he definitely did not fear for his wee nephew, innocent in the quarrels and the multiple bitter enemies who liked to step on his heels.

"Why I should? With a pretty face like his, he would be an excellent member of the family" unfortunately, the education he received during his stays with Scrooge allowed him to possess a broader vocabulary than a child his age; Donald was terrified to discover how the bad woman perceived the way in which his uncle tried to hide his fear and used it against him.

"Don' worry, Unca' Scrooge, I hav'it unde' control!" He assured kicking and hitting the air between grunts while frowning, looking more tender than menacing, his small arms trying to reach Ma Beagle.

He knew that was against what he was taught about not hitting a woman and respecting elders, but he was sure he could break those rules if that involved protecting his family.

Ma Beagle rolled her eyes and holding Donald at arm length, she extended him to the most robust child.

"Watch the boy, I'll take care of McDuck," the duckling growled when three Beagle Boys held him, and Scrooge's eyes widened in realization.

Della's adventurous instinct had woken up at an early age, and he had supposed it would be the same with Donald.

He just needed the right incentive.

Ma Beagle pounced on him and Scrooge raised his cane, barely separating Ma Beagle from him in an already usual fighting pose.

"Do you really think I would have compassion on you for your family?" The woman bellowed. Her children thought big, clearly not the same as her, but it was a real delight to see him so vulnerable.

Because if the sparkle in his eyes behind the withering gaze, his trembling beak and the feracity of his movements did not reveal vulnerability, she did not know what he was giving away.

Occasionally, Scrooge watched Donald. He struggled against the children, and his breathing became heavy.

"Ah knoo Ah've tried tae teach ye not to see violence as an answ'r, but richt noo it wouldnae other me," Scrooge thought, accidentally distracted for a moment.

Open window that Ma Beagle took advantage of to attack the old duck, pulling his heel with the curvature of an abandoned cane in the dump and throwing him to the ground.

Act witnessed by Donald.

Slowly he frowned growling under his breath. Slowly, he began to see red, taking young Beagle off guard.

He was fed up!

"Le've ma' unca' alone!" In an almost unintelligible voice, Donald gave a war cry, struggling even more between the three pairs of arms that kept him motionless.

Taking the criminal off guard and generating a smile at Scrooge, his nephew's outburst allowing him to tackle her. In the end, he hoped Donald would recognize that he acknowledged the lack of education of beating an older woman.

Meanwhile the duckling finally manages to get out of the grip of the children, the heights difference being the last important thing when he began to attack with his signature attack movement.

Feeling his body lighter when he stopped feeling the bigger hands try to hold him again.

The Beagle Boys fell surrendered, already expectant to their beloved Ma' complain.

"Unca' Scrooge!" Donald squealed with joy, feeling the lump in his throat strongly when he visualized the elder intact. Fortunately he wasn't in the family's house, which allowed him the joy of running, feeling his legs aching and exhausted.

"Donnie!" Scrooge felt a weight unraveling from his shoulders when he took his nephew into his arms, allowing him to cry to his shoulders. "M'boy, are ye awricht? Hoo did ye end up here?"

No, his voice had not broken either while rubbing his nephew's back, watching if his nephew not flank at a wound that could have resulted.

It would be the first thing he would check upon they arrival at the manor.

"A don' 'now," he sobbed drowningly, hiding his face on his uncle's shoulder, curling up between both arms when he felt him start walking, "I co'ldn't sleep, I was go'ng with 'u to keep 'u company. I was sud'enly here…"

He sweetly coo Donald. Suddenly he thought about the possibility of black magic. That is to say, said magic always had evil ends, easily one of the artifacts that he had had to be cursed, and the bad luck that invaded the duckling always put it in unfavorable situations.

Another detail that would verify upon arrival.

For now, he just had to reassure his nephew, preen him, bathe him and stay by his side until Hortense and Quackmore arrive from the restaurant.

For now, he was mentally ready for the odyssey that would calm his scared duckling while calling the police.

[junker-town]

Justice for Icebox and other memorable women in classic football movies

Becky “Icebox” O’Shea (Shawna Waldron) takes the field with her cheerleading skirt still on in Little Giants. | Little Giants/Warner Bros.

Unfortunately, in this case life still imitates art.

The first time you meet Icebox, arguably the protagonist of the 1994 classic Little Giants, is at pee-wee football tryouts. “Gentlemen, suck it up!” the coach shouts at the group of disheveled 10-year-olds, until one finally lays out the ball-carrier with a satisfying thud. “Oh baby, now we’re talking,” he says with a grin, running over to the group. “Nice pop, Icebox.”

“Thanks, Uncle Kev,” she replies, her long brown hair tumbling down as she pulls off her helmet. It’s intended to be a shock. “Can you BELIEVE a GIRL is playing FOOTBALL?!” the director practically screams at the viewer. But that shorthand — the reveal that beneath the comfortable anonymity of the helmet lies a girl — and its close relative, the ponytail sticking out from beneath the helmet, have become ubiquitous to the point of cliché throughout both popular culture and coverage of girls and women playing sports society still doesn’t expect girls and women to play.

Little Giants/Warner Bros.

The viewer sees Becky “Icebox” O’Shea (Shawna Waldron) for the first time — just after she takes off her football helmet — in Little Giants.

Yet for some reason, the helmet hair phenomenon still works despite the fact the movie is almost 30 years old. It’s enough of a twist to get your attention, in the same way that girls and women playing football still garner coverage based on nothing more than their decision to suit up — though they’re just the newest of more than a century’s worth of “girl gridders.” The seemingly immutable expectation that girls don’t play football, won’t play football and aren’t interested in football, though, has been repeatedly contradicted on the silver screen just as it is in reality. In fact, some of football’s most iconic films have featured girls and women who subvert that exact expectation, even as they reinforce a whole slew of other sexist stereotypes.

The central conflict of Little Giants — ostensibly a film about the (spoiler alert) triumph of dweeby male underdogs — is sexism. (It’s currently streaming for free on IMDBTV.) Becky “Icebox” O’Shea is introduced as one of the better football players her age, more than hanging with the boys at tryouts and putting one in a headlock when he gives her guff. Yet, of course, it’s not enough to make the team, a reality that is presented to the viewer as immediately, unequivocally unfair. “What about Becky?” her father Danny asks the coach, Kevin, who is his brother and a retired football star. “She’s better than half of those boys.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you but Icebox is a girl,” Kevin replies. “Maybe if you started treating her like a girl, she’d start acting like one.” His response clarifies that he is the central villain; soon after, his own wife calls him “pigheaded and chauvinistic” for not letting Becky on the team. Becky, disappointed but unfazed, bands together with the other rejects to form a new team (after single-handedly running off their bullies), and the Little Giants are born.

One of the more compelling aspects of the movie is that the few characters who are skeptical about Becky’s ability — mainly Kevin and a late recruit named Spike — are unsympathetic. All the other kids and adults readily accept her passion and talent for the game. Her gender is never mentioned as a potential hindrance, and when she opts out of playing, the rest of the team is not just sad but afraid to compete without her. “Without Becky, we’re cream of wheat!” laments the kicker.

The same can’t be said of 2000’s Remember The Titans, the Disneyfied version of a true story where football is presented as a foolproof way to solve racism — and the directors make a halfhearted attempt to shoehorn sexism and homophobia cures in, too (intersectionality … question mark?). In Titans (currently streaming on Disney+), Sheryl Yoast, the nine-and-a-half-year-old daughter of the assistant coach Bill Yoast, is a football fiend to the point of practically being a savant. Like Becky, she’s depicted as the only child of a single father, a similarity that was far from coincidental: the real Sheryl had three sisters, lived with her mother, and didn’t care about football at all.

The heavily-fictionalized Sheryl (played by a young Hayden Panettiere) taps into a few different clichés. She’s extremely precocious, and precocious children are one convenient way to diffuse tense scenes (of which there are plenty in Titans). Her constant presence (explained by the passion for football and the single-parent family) makes Yoast more sympathetic, when he might otherwise seem uncomfortably similar to all the other racists in town. Mostly, her presence reiterates the idea that girls who like football must be explained. Without the feminizing influence of a mother, these films argue, it’s only logical girls will deviate from heteronormative expectation and dive into sports, which are still ultimately gendered male.

Remember The Titans/Walt Disney Pictures

Sheryl Yoast (Hayden Panettiere) and Coach Boone (Denzel Washington) watch film together — with Yoast offering some harsh words for his offense — in Remember The Titans.

“Why don’t you get this little girl some pretty dolls or something?” the otherwise undeniably great Coach Boone asks Yoast at one point, as Sheryl scowls. “I tried — she loves football,” Yoast replies. By the middle of the movie Sheryl and Boone are grinding tape together.

That brief moment of acceptance is about as good as it gets for Sheryl, despite the fact she’s the one who, at the movie’s most pivotal moment, compels her father to finally collaborate with Boone to win the state title. “Mama, are all white girls that crazy?” Boone’s own daughter asks at one point — a memorable line that unfortunately once again reinforces Sheryl’s difference, which is repeatedly shrugged off until it is ultimately ignored. Her interest in the game, convincingly depicted throughout the film, is nothing more than a means to an end.

Becky’s bugaboo, in contrast, isn’t that people don’t take her interest in the game seriously. Instead, it’s the other side of the double-edged sword that women in sports have to confront: the idea that sports are inherently anti-feminine, that it is impossible to play them wholeheartedly without implicitly rejecting all the things (white supremacist, cisheteropatriarchal) society deems valuable about being a woman.

Little Giants/Warner Bros.

Icebox tries on lipstick as she debates quitting football and becoming a cheerleader in Little Giants.

It’s wrapped up in her nickname, Icebox: When “hunk” Junior Floyd joins the team (keep in mind they’re all supposed to be around 10, which makes it a little weird), Becky’s instantly conflicted. “I’m the Icebox, the Icebox doesn’t like boys … I don’t get crushes,” she says as she eats powdered donuts straight from the box (the film’s proof positive of her lack of self-conscious femininity). Even at that early age, it’s presented as a given that girls will understand playing sports is perceived as antagonistic to heterosexual romantic relationships.

That internal conflict ties her to one of the least sympathetic women in football cinema, Any Given Sunday’s owner/general manager Christina Pagniacci (played by Cameron Diaz). For how nuanced a picture the Oliver Stone classic (currently streaming on Netflix) paints of life in professional football, the portrayals of women throughout the film are two-dimensional to the point of being confusing. (Why on Earth does Cap’s wife hit him when he says he wants to retire? Even the most stereotypical gold digger presumably has a little heart.) But Christina gets the most screen time out of any of them, enough to depict her character as Icebox ... if all Icebox’s worst fears were realized.

Pagniacci’s behavior throughout the film doesn’t seem much worse than how billionaire sports team owners are prone to acting (that is to say, very badly). She wants to move the Miami Sharks to Los Angeles to take advantage of tax incentives (where have we heard that one before?). She argues with the head coach constantly, which is presented as excessively combative even when she’s right — as in her insistence that the team should invest in the passing game and stop running the ball so much (how is this movie 20 years old?). She pushes to keep players on the field even when they’re not healthy, and her involvement in the team is centered on growing profits (which, obviously — that’s how ownership thinks).

Any Given Sunday/Warner Bros.

One of many disputes between Christina Pagniacci (Cameron Diaz) and Coach Tony D’Amato (Al Pacino) in Any Given Sunday.

But it’s a lot easier to make ownership the villain when ownership is a woman. Christina was modeled after late Rams owner Georgia Frontiere, who moved the team to St. Louis and had already inspired several money-grubbing, ice-queen lady-owner characters. Pagniacci’s greed and calculation are repeatedly lamented by the other characters on gendered terms: Instead of being savvy and pragmatic she’s hard-edged and heartless, characterized as such by a bunch of people who themselves could easily be described that way.

“He wanted a son more than anything else in the world, and when you really think about it, what Christina is is just such a tragedy,” her own mother tells Coach D’Amato (Al Pacino) within earshot of Christina, who cries silently in the next room (another confusing scene). “I honestly believe that woman would eat her young,” mutters the league commissioner towards the end of the film. It’s not enough for her to merely be the bad billionaire boss, which would be easy enough to make convincing. Pagniacci has to be presented as cold and distant — intrinsically undesirable, despite the fact she’s conventionally attractive — to make her villainy irrevocable. For women, there’s no redemption from men not liking you.

That’s what Becky realizes by the midpoint of Giants. In a patently strange scene, she sits down with her sexist uncle, torn up about why Junior doesn’t seem to like like her. “He’s probably gonna want some cute girl, not some teammate,” the fully-grown man tells his 10-year-old niece. “But I don’t know about being a cute girl — I’m good at sports,” Becky replies (again, being a girl and playing sports are shown as intrinsically at odds). “You have a lot more to offer than football,” her uncle says very creepily, in another classic deflection: sports are too bad or dumb or boring for a nice girl like you. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asks. The strings swell, and Kevin replies, “I don’t think you’re pretty … I think you’re beautiful.”

The scene is so, so odd, and deeply out of sync with the rest of the movie to that point. Kevin was an unrepentant misogynist and then, suddenly, his “guidance” (telling Becky to be a cheerleader) is shown as positive. Becky takes his advice, quits the team before the big game and only comes back late in the game with her cheerleading skirt still on. It’s visual evidence of the compromise she’s already made: it won’t be possible for her to have both of the things she wants — the attention of boys and the chance to play sports — so something’s gotta give. It would be less depressing if it weren’t so often a reality: girls drop out of sports at remarkably high rates after puberty.

Becky’s star turn and unsatisfying conclusion probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Of course a girl was the center of an underdog story: Who’s more of an underdog in sports than a girl? Little Giants ends with the Annexation of Puerto Rico, a problematically-titled, game-winning play that holds a beloved place in sports lore. The play begins with Becky charging down the field, drawing all the defenders to her — after all, she’s one of the best players on the team. Once the opposing players are concentrated around her, she opens her arms: no ball. It was all just one, long fake.

Little Giants/Warner Bros.

Icebox reveals the fake during one of Little Giants’ most memorable moments, the Annexation of Puerto Rico.

[shireness-says]

What’s In A (Second) Name?

Summary: The arrival of a new family member should be a happy time. However, the birth of Henry's little brother stirs up some unwelcome internal conflict. A sequel snippet to “Killian Jones and the Lost Boy”. ~2.7K. Rated G. Also on AO3. Read the other installments: Killian Jones and the Lost Boy, Scurvy and Milestones

A/N: I’m back with more father-son adorableness! Definitely read at least the first installment - it’s a little longer, but definitely worth it. Thanks to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, as always.

Tagging: @kmomof4, @searchingwardrobes, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @mythologicalmango, @thejollyroger-writer, @ultraluckycatnd, @winterbaby89

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

Killian Jones is a father.

Of course, that’s not new. He’s been a father for almost four years now, ever since Henry came into his life and made him one; that had been the proudest moment of his life.

Until Hugo.

He and Emma hadn’t really planned on another child, but they also hadn’t really planned against it. Maybe they should have; they’re living together after all, engaging in the sorts of activities that adults in love living together get up to. Killian certainly could have procured protective sheaths in his travels, or Emma could have been taking preventative herbs. Hell, either one of them could have searched down a contraceptive potion for one of them to take. It’s probably a small miracle they don’t already have a herd of children running around underfoot; Killian can’t even say they’ve been particularly conscientious about him pulling out.

Still, it’s a surprise when Emma’s flow stops and nausea begins to plague her in the morning. Once they finally put the pieces together - gods, but the two of them are idiots sometimes, working themselves into a panic over something they should have probably anticipated - they’re undeniably thrilled, if nervous. They may be raising Henry together, but an infant is a very different thing from their seven year old. They aren’t even married, for goodness sakes, always putting it off as something they’d get around to eventually.

That’s the first order of business he and Emma set out to rectify. They’re married on a beautiful day in the spring with all their friends and family in attendance, Scarlet leading the crew in tossing rice and flower petals over their captain and his new wife as they exit the little village church. Henry, of course, had stood as best man; no one would hear of anything else. Emma’s dress hadn’t quite covered her ever-growing stomach and their little one within, but everyone had been too purely happy to care - least of all Killian. That moment, sliding a ring onto his love’s finger, had felt like a piece slipping into place in his very soul. This, his family and the love they share, is everything he could ever need. Only the arrival of his son or daughter could make this feeling any better.

And four months later, after a lot of waiting and a lot of pain and what Killian thinks might have been growling at one point in the whole torturous process, it does. He does. They have a baby, a son, another son.

Hugo Lucas Jones.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give him your brother’s name?” Emma asks when it’s just the two of them - pardon, just the three of them again after the midwife and Granny Lucas leave. She’s clearly exhausted, hair still drenched in sweat from her efforts with tired circles under her eyes, but she’s undeniably beautiful too - almost ethereal as she cradles their little one to her breast. Hugo himself is indescribably precious, a miracle with wisps of fluffy dark hair and ten perfect fingers and toes. Of course Killian had known that his child wouldn’t be born missing a hand like him, but those little fingers are still so amazing to him. Everything about Hugo is amazing, really - especially that someone as damaged as Killian, as scarred and maimed and morally compromised could be part of making something so perfect. He should probably leave Emma to rest and go retrieve Henry from where the lad has been waiting with Will and Belle, but Killian can’t tear himself away from the scene at his fingertips. Hugo nurses determinedly, little fist clenching and unclenching against his mother’s breast as Emma watches with unfiltered love in her gaze. Killian supposes he must look much the same; he’s barely dared blink since he first caught sight of his son, still covered in all manner of fluids and screaming at the indignity of the birthing process. Even now, his hand rests on the lad’s back, just above Emma’s own protective arms, unable to stop stroking along that downy soft skin.

(Yes, he’s already a father, but a newborn infant is a very different thing from raising a four year old, and every little detail fascinates him. Gods above, but he loves their newest addition so much already.)

“I think Hugo Lucas suits him better,” Killian replies. There’s a niggling little fear in the back of his mind that if he speaks too loudly, whatever wonderful spell he’s living in will be broken, leaving him all alone again. “After all your hard work, it seems more fitting to name him for your family. We wouldn’t be here without Granny, after all.”

Emma lets out a little huff of a laugh at that. “Yeah, and the fact that she took her first vacation in a decade. You only had to deal with me because she was gone.”

“And I’m thankful for it every day,” he soothes, leaning in to carefully kiss his wife on the lips over their newborn. What a combination of words to even consider - that he has a wife and a baby and another son waiting just down the hill to meet his new brother.

It’s not that he’s opposed to giving his brother’s name to Hugo for a second name. They’d originally planned on it, actually; Killian always thought he’d name his first son after Liam, if he was ever blessed with children, and Emma had readily agreed. How much Killian still looked up to his brother, had always looked up to him, was never any secret, and the closest thing Emma had to family herself were Granny and Ruby. But as they got closer and closer to the baby’s birth, and especially now that he’s here… it doesn’t feel quite right. Killian can’t identify why, but somehow it doesn’t feel like Hugo, as wonderful and precious and absolutely bloody perfect, is meant to carry the moniker. He just can’t put his finger on the reason why.

Not until an incident with Henry two months later, that is.

Henry loves the baby from the first moment they’re introduced, gently stroking a finger down his brother’s cheek. “He’s so small,” he says, grinning up at where Killian is watching over his shoulder. It’s not a trust thing; he know Henry would never hurt his brother, and anyways, he’s had plenty of practice around babies in the past year since Will and Belle’s little girl was born. His lad knows exactly how careful and gentle he has to be.

“Yeah, he is,” Killian grins back, ruffling Henry’s hair before looking up to meet Emma’s eyes. Gods, he loves her, loves this. This little family, clustered around their newest member, is everything he’s ever wanted. The grin only widens as Emma smiles back, before he turns his attention back to Henry. “What do you think, lad? Should we keep him?”

“I think so,” Henry says decisively, nodding as if to cement his declaration. Killian barely stifles a laugh; it’d never been a serious question, obviously, and it’s not like they can just give Hugo back, but it’s nice to hear Henry so certain on the matter. It bodes well for all the years to come.

An illustrious start, indeed.

And for the first month and a half, that holds. Of course there’s little issues - no one is a huge fan of the baby waking up every few hours to cry for a change and a meal, but Henry gets especially irritable having his sleep disrupted, as 8 year old boys are prone to do - but the good moments far outweigh the bad. Henry loves telling absolutely anyone that will listen about his new brother when he and Killian venture into town for various supplies, and spends half of Hugo’s waking moments making faces to try and make the baby smile or laugh, even if both Emma and Killian have told him that it’s way too soon for that. Henry doesn’t care. It’s adorable. Killian feels the strongest urge to try and imprint the moment into his very soul every time he sees it. It’s all blissful, honestly - or at least it is until Henry goes back to school.

Henry loves school. As much as he loves summer vacation as well, like any young lad, at his core he’s a curious boy who wants to know everything about everything and has a million questions that Killian and Emma can’t even begin to answer. He’s a social butterfly, too - not that Killian is shocked, not with the way Henry twisted an entire pirate crew around his wee fingers from the moment he stepped on board the Jolly Roger - and he’s got plenty of friends in his year. Most days, he comes home bursting with new things he learned and the things he did with Bruno and Robbie and Mack and every single detail of the the scant few hours he was away from his loving parents. They don’t expect any different out of this year.

Henry is subdued when he comes home from school, though, barely talking about his day and picking at his dinner. It’s… odd. Then again, he is getting older. They’d expected some attitude changes, though maybe not this until they were into the teenage years. They’ve all been a little short on sleep, too, a slight cold that Hugo’s contracted driving Emma and Killian nearly mad with worry and keeping the entire family up at all hours of the night. As unusual as Henry’s behavior is, they’re willing to overlook it that first day, and even the second, identifying all kinds of logical excuses as to why he might be this way. It’ll pass soon enough when they’re all getting a little more sleep.

The thing is, it doesn’t get better. In fact, it’s been nearly two weeks, and Henry is still frighteningly subdued, without any reason that Killian can identified. It’s hard for either him or Emma to work more than a short sentence out of their boy, and he’s not even interested lately in his little brother. It’s a complete one-eighty from the boy he was only this summer, the cheerful lad they all know and love, and Killian and Emma are worried sick.

After eleven days, Killian can’t take it anymore. Maybe it would be more understanding parenting to let the lad come to them in his own time, but if someone - or something - has turned his boy into this brooding shade, then Killian wants to know. Anything is better than witnessing with his hands tied behind his back whatever is tearing Henry apart. So when he spots Henry sitting on the gentle slope outside their little house, staring out at the ocean (so much like Killian’s own habits when his own thoughts are a mess), Killian moves to join him, settling himself on the soft grass next to the boy.

“What’s up with you, little mate?” He asks, nudging Henry gently with his shoulder. As the lad has gotten older, he’s protested the “little” title more and more, reminding everyone of exactly how big he is. Killian remembers that same urge; after all, he spent a considerable portion of his own lifetime reminding Liam that he was younger, not little. Now, though, Henry only shrugs. Another bad sign.

“Come now, lad,” he prods. “I know something’s the matter. You haven’t been yourself since school started.”

Another shrug.

“Are the other kids being mean? Do I need to go speak with their parents, or the teacher?” It’s been a while, but Killian thinks he could still manage to be intimidating if he needed to be. Maybe. It’s yet to be seen if the bags under his eyes will work for or against him.

“No, nothing like that,” Henry quickly mumbles.

“What is it then? Because I’m serious, I’ll go talk to them, you’ve just got to tell me what happened —”

“Nothing happened, Dad,” he rolls his eyes. Definitely picked that up from Emma. “It’s just…” he pauses.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve just been been thinking about something Jack said.” Not one of Henry’s particular friends, if Killian remembers right. More of an annoyance, really, if he’s keeping the names straight, though the boys mostly stay out of each other’s way.

“And what’s that?”

Henry is quiet for a long moment, to the point Killian is worried he’ll have to start prodding again, before finally speaking. “I was telling everyone about Hugo,” he says. “And I was talking about —” He pauses. “It’s stupid,” the boy mumbles.

“Of course it isn’t,” Killian assures. “What were you telling them?”

“I was telling about how he had three names,” Henry mumbles, barely audible. “And Jack said that everyone has three names, because their second name is a family name. But I only have two names,” Henry concludes, tears glistening in his eyes, “because I don’t have a family.”

The words plow into Killian like a knife in the gut. “Oh, lad, that’s not true,” he protests.

“It is though,” Henry says, tears openly spilling down his cheeks. “I wasn’t always with you. You’re not really my father.”

That’s the final straw for Killian. He can’t just sit here and listen to this as a patient observer; practically without conscious thought, he reaches his arms over and hauls Henry across his lap like he used to cradle the boy back when he was so much smaller. “Of course I am, Henry,” he declares. “You chose me. I’ve been a father since the moment you made me one.”

“Not by blood,” Henry sniffles.

“Maybe not, but in every other way that matters. Family is about who you choose, and who chooses you. I’ve been your father since probably even before you named me that way, and I’m going to be your father even if you decide you don’t want me to be. Long past then.”

Something about that must sink in, as Henry nods where he buries his face into Killian’s neck. Absentmindedly, he rubs the boy’s back and makes shushing noises to calm Henry as he tries to sort out his words in his head. There’s something important to be said here, something that’s been niggling at him for weeks and is only now falling into place.

“You know, your mother asked after Hugo was born if I wanted to name him for my brother,” he says as casually as he can muster - like he’s just relaying facts, not touching on something deep and emotional.

Henry frowns at that. “But wasn’t your brother’s name Liam?” he asks.

“Aye. I thought naming him for your mother’s family suited him better. But you know what’s more?” he asks, making sure to meet Henry’s eyes. “That’s your name. I’d always planned to give it to my eldest, and that’s you.” It’s not something he’s just saying, or meaningless platitudes; it feels right, in a way that settles the little bit of him saying that Liam’s name is meant for someone else. “What do you say to that, Henry Liam?”

“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, but there’s a little smile tugging at his mouth and the tears seem to be drying.

“No I don’t,” Killian concedes. “But it’s yours. It feels right, like it’s always been yours. You’ve heard my stories about Liam, right?” Henry nods. “Then you know that he was the best brother a man could have. He wasn’t perfect, and I don’t know if anyone else would think he was a great man, but I know that he was a good one, just like you’re growing up to be. You’re going to be an even better big brother than he was.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Killian presses a firm kiss to the crown of Henry’s head, breathing in that perfect little boy smell, before moving to stand. “Now, what do you say we go back and see what Mom and Hugo are up to? I think she’s been watching us and pretending to do things in the kitchen while we’ve been talking.” She’s been worried sick, he doesn’t say, but Henry probably knows it all the same. He’s always been too perceptive for his own good.

“Okay,” Henry agrees, popping back up with the energy of youth. As soon as Killian’s found his own feet, Henry throws his arms around his waist. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, my boy.”

It’s always been as simple as that - Henry is his, and he’s undeniably Henry’s.

They chose each other, and it’s a choice he’ll never regret.

[maximvms-blog]

HEY HOW’S IT GOIN’ GUYS. it’s ya girl aura and i’m back for veritas: quarter quell edition ! i’m a 20 year old garbage can ( she / her or they / them pronouns plz ) from pst timezone. as you can clearly see, i am a mess, but i’m here to have fun and get to know all of you guys !! i can’t WAIT to unlock the mysteries of this rp, and i know for a fact its going to actually destroy me, so heads up: i’m diagnosed babey and cry over everything all the time. that being said, i also love pain so while i may be crying, i am also THRIVING !! i’m also an artist so i hope ya’ll are ready for me to occasionally draw the shenanigans that happen here. it’s gonna be a TIME !

anyway, enough about me ! click the neat little read more button to get to know my baby boy, maxi-pad. if you like what you see, also feel free to hit that ♥ and i’ll pop into your tumblr or discord ims to aggressively keysmash a plot out. sounds good ? GREAT !! can’t wait to talk to you all asfkalsdjfasfd i’m so excited !

skeleton: the ace faceclaim: froy gutierrez name: max thomas gender & pronouns: cis male ( he/him ) age: twenty-two major: zoology clubs: captain of the track & field and football team ; student government secretary living arrangement: auberlin apartments / apartment 01 employment: unemployed, but occasionally volunteers places & does odd jobs for those that need it

[ GENERAL ]

first off, some links. you can find his dossier HERE ( featuring a bio / some stats ) & his pinterest board HERE !!

his name is maximilian anthony thomas ( if he turns out to be the killer i’m gonna laugh because i really did give him 3 first names ) but honestly just max is fine ^^

he’s the child to two ABSOLUTE UNITS of women. both of them are olympic medalists in the athletics category. even his sperm donor dad ( who, yes, also helped raise him ) was a big time baseball player who now coaches one of the best international teams, so to say that he is SPORTS BOY would almost be an understatement.

his sport of choice is easily track, but he also really enjoys baseball, basketball, soccer, and, later on in life, football. if it’s got a ball or allows him to run, chances are he plays it.

he was winning medals as early as 7 years old and had enough for a full wall by the time he was 10. boy is a legacy and it SHOWS.

he doesn’t like it when people try to give him things just because of his name or who his parents are. he would much rather get things through his own hard work. at the same time, he hates losing and is willing to do not so great things in secret if it means he’ll win.

captain of the track & field team during the spring / summer and captain of the football team during fall / winter. he also might be in the student government too so rifp his schedule. boy is ALWAYS busy.

LOVES HIS TEAMMATES SO FUCKING MUCHHHHH !!!!!! they’re his family.

he also does a lot of charity events cuz his parents raised that shit in him ( they literally met at a charity triathalon ), so he goes to quite a view galas and whatnot. LITERALLY HE’S SO BUSY THIS BOY NEVER HAS FREE TIME.

is surprisingly really well versed in art & art history due to one of his moms being a HUGE art history buff. literally his family did an art tour vacation once where they just went across europe & went to a bunch of galleries. basically he may seem like a dumb jock, but if you mix up a renoir & a monet, he WILL call you out on it.

absolute sunshine boy !! loves to smile & laugh & love !! is so passionate about everything !

however, he has some really bad jealousy and pride issues, as hinted at earlier. they’re easily his greatest vices in equal measure.

he’s emotionally fragile so if he snaps, it can get pretty scary, but he’s really good at hiding that side of him. granted, bottling it all up probably isn’t the best either . . .

THAT SAID, HE’S STILL THE TOWN’S GOLDEN BOY !! his coach keeps talking about the 2020 olympics and he’s SO PSYCHED !! everyone in town knows his name bc he really out here being nice to everyone he meets & helping little old ladies cross the road on top of everything else he does. he’s just That Guy.

[ DAISEY ]

he had known her since they were wee babies, and they were definitely friends first. whenever they played house, he was always the dog looooong before he played her husband.

the two were always real & honest with each other, and it’s safe to say that he knew the true her before she got all caught up in her loneliness and secret hoarding.

SHE was the one to ask HIM out not long after starting middle school, making them each other’s first like . . . actual relationship. ( though tbh, she moreso DEMANDED he be her boyfriend, rather than properly asking him aslkfjasdf he could never say no to her though so it didn’t really matter )

they wound up having an off-&-on relationship for SIX YEARS. in late-ish high school, he could feel her drifting away so he told her his secret, thinking it would stop her from being bored of him. unfortunately she ended up breaking up w/ him the next day.

[ STALKING TW ] before long she was already seeing someone new. that triggered his jealous streak, and between that and his fear that she was going to tell someone his secret, he started stalking her. at first it was just lining up their schedules so he could always keep an eye on her, but eventually he got access to her social media logins and started keeping tabs on her private conversations. she’d shown him some of her own hacking tricks when they were still together, so even when she changed her passcodes, it was a simple crack before he was snooping through her shit again.

eventually she confronted him about the fact that she was constantly seeing him everywhere, though still unaware of the fact that he was the one that was hacking into her accounts. he played it off, and while she did tell the authorities about it, that was about the end of it. he stopped stalking her for a couple of years after following her to st ettienne, and things mellowed out between them.

he joined student council that year, and after that him and daisey started to talk a lot more again. they even kinda became friends again. one night, she was having a rough time so she called him. after a quiet night of talking and looking at the stars, she kissed him. it was really great, up until she shoved him away and said it was a mistake, going right back to ignoring his existence the very next day. this caused him to fall back into his stalking habits, finding them a comfort.

this time, she finds out that its HIM going through her social media, and she pulls him aside privately at the homecoming party to yell at him. she even says that she’s going to expose his secret for being such a creep. it’s then that he sees her for what she really is, rather than the rose-colored image he’d been seeing before.

that’s the last he ever sees of daisey rutherford, and he can’t tell if he’s grateful or heartbroken for that.

[ WANTED CONNECTIONS ]

okay listen i’m . . . honestly garbage at coming up with wanted connections because i genuinely want everything. friends, lovers, enemies, family — the whole shebang. i’m always down to brainstorm, so if you’ve got any ideas, even if they’re whacky, hit me with them and we can come up with something phenomenal and unique, yeah ? yeah !

the biggest actual idea i can think of is like . . . half siblings through his biological father. i think the dichotomy of that could be fun since his dad is still VERY MUCH in his life along w/ his 2 moms. TAKEN BY CASSIDY

rivals in sports could be fun ! as w/ rivals in general !

people he tried hooking up w/ to make daisey jealous when they weren’t together ? maybe ??

he doesn’t drink or smoke or do anything fun so like ?? a bad influence type connection mayhaps ?

HE NEEDS A TUTOR !!!! HE NEEEEEDS A TUTORRRRR !!!!!

bro squad bro squad bro squad bro squad bro squad. did i mention bro squad ?? ( ed is his best fucking friend so any mutual friends,,,,,, let’s squad it up )

maybe i’ll edit this later if more come to me, but for now that’s what i’ve got !! hmu if anything strikes your fancy or if you’ve got any other ideas !

[loyaltiedtm-blog]

norsemen rp meme | part 1.

LEADERSHIP

was that a bit too much?

aren’t you supposed to be a little like that when you’re in charge? a little bit crazy?

it’s not really me, that fear-based leadership style stuff. it doesn’t feel right.

do as you please. do whatever you want.

we have to do something about that.

i think i have a plan for that. a plan so crazy it just might work.

what kind of leadership is that? are you pleased with yourself?

i think things are starting to fall into place.

we’re actually in control here, so.

have you ever heard of a man who had too much control?

DEATH

see you on the other side.

i’m thinking, what’s the worst thing that could happen to me if i don’t jump off that cliff? i mean, what’s worse than being crushed?

you’re supposed to do the jump and spare your families the burden that is supporting you in your old age.

you’ll never see us again.

so the rumors are true? that you sent the old people in the village to their death?

sacrifice? no, no, i don’t think that’s a good idea... all that screaming and commotion...

not to cock up your plans or anything, but are you a hundred percent certain it’s necessary to sacrifice me?

i mean, ritual sacrifice isn’t a perfect science, but i feel really confident about this one.

you could at least have sacrificed some slaves.

we’ll pour out some mead for our dead comrades, reminisce and stuff.

i was supposed to be sacrificed today. but i got away, so they gave me a branding instead so i wouldn’t feel too lucky.

VIOLENCE / FIGHTING

my focus has always been on pillaging and ravaging and things like that.

did you see that? did everyone see that? ow! ah! there’s something seriously wrong with my nose!

open your mouth. don’t bite.

what kind of place are those goddamn inbreds running here?

so i thought i’d challenge you to a duel.

i, [name], hereby challenge [name] to a duel.

he has been trained to be a warrior ever since he was a baby. and he has probably killed a thousand men.

i never touched a sword before today.

you wish to exchange coins for poison?

don’t send a sword over tip first. easy child’s learning.

this is the deadliest poison you can find. one scratch of his skin and he will be dead in seconds.

you will regret challenging me to this duel. this is the dumbest thing you have ever done.

if you joined a raid, you’d understand how the world works.

it’s a matter of honor, isn’t it?

you can’t walk around with two arrows sticking out of your head. imagine sleeping on your stomach. it would be impossible.

it’s awful. i can see straight into your head!

this is gonna cost him an ear!

you will burn for a worthy cause.

POVERTY

the only clothes i have are the ones i’m wearing.

i can just stand outside, you know, and talk to the guys who go to the toilet.

nice and warm along the animals.

i’m not sleeping in this pigsty!

i was awakened by two filthy men relieving themselves in my mouth! i think i may have swallowed some of it.

pee straight from the source is perfectly sterile. doesn’t taste that bad either.

i’m not taking my hat off to being pissed in the mouth!

LOVE / SEX

you can at least pretend to be happy to see your husband.

i was completely surprised when i saw her on top of this guy, moaning and groaning.

is that... a cock necklace?

can you imagine, you know, getting hard with a tool like that? you’d be in trouble. you’d just drop to the floor. your blood would go straight from your head down to your tool.

i think i know what a huge penis is. those are abnormal.

i just feel sorry for those people who have to walk around with dicks like that.

you don’t know what the assicle is? the little thing that sticks out between the penis and the hole? the little thing that wags when you’re excited?

it’s you and me then.

i have confidence in my sexuality.   i know that size doesn’t matter one bit.   

i think i need a break or something.

i was just trying to get in the mood. it was an experiment, you know.

you have to learn how to communicate! that’s what you do in a relationship!

so that date we set up ages ago to share a horn of mead with [name] and [name] to discuss odes and poetry suddenly isn’t so important anymore?

one two three, take out your wee-wee. four five, grab your bride. six seven eight, open up her gate. nine ten, fuck her then!

we can’t have a couples party on new years eve if you keep punching ladies in the face, [name]!

you should have seen the life i had. naked, oily men and women, like tangled together in every position possible.

POSITIVE / FRIENDLY

a good man like you shouldn’t be alone if you don’t want to.

because you know i dig you. i always have and always will. and i really admire you for what you have accomplished.

from when we got there to when we left, it was just a series of one sweet moment after another.

you have so much for offer.

i can almost guarantee you’ll make some new friends.

it’s time to celebrate. shame on those who don’t get drunk!

it wouldn’t be fair to all the other moments if we bring up just one. because they were all so awesome.

we understand each other without really having to say anything.

SADNESS / NEGATIVE

can’t exactly say i’m looking forward to going home right now.

i’m feeling kind of alone here.

i’m starting to feel a little pathetic here.

i think maybe i heard someone say 3-2-1, no one else can come.

lots of, you know, internal jokes and... you wouldn’t get it anyway.

and now you’re going to mope when you’re the one who broke the agreement!?

why didn’t you run away?

that was kind of unnecessary, wasn’t it?

what kind of people trick people in distress into more distress?

it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. and i take full responsibility for it.

it’s almost funny how little is going on inside that massive head. anyone home? anyone home?

so you’ve been institutionalised, right?

i mean, there’s no better feeling than doing backbreaking work for someone else without pay.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I would love to hear about Downey's illegitimate child and co-parenting with Vetinari adventures

So basically - Downey goes and has an affair with this travelling opera singer whose name is something terribly theatrical like Annabelle Lee (yeah yeah, Poe), and nine months after their affair (which lasted her tenure in AM before she had planned to move on so maybe four months? five?) a wee bebe is born. 

Before Annabelle planned to leave AM she did notice she was with child and stayed to have the child, Alice, then gave her to her mother to raise before she returned to her career. 

So Annabelle peaces out. She sends cards and money occasionally but her career is very much her passion and her drive in life. 

Now, grandma is stuck with small baby Alice. She hires in a nursemaid to nurse the child and provide basic care for her. However, grandma is quite old and by the time the girl is seven/eight grandma can’t reasonably care for her and can’t cover the costs of a governess. 

Grandma then asks Annabelle who the dad is. Annabelle replies, “master of the assassins guild I’m 80% sure.” 

Grandma then goes to Downey and says, “I have your daughter and I’m unable to raise her properly and I can’t afford to pay for people to do it for me.” 

Downey is ecstatic, “what? I have a daughter?? This is great news.” Annabelle had sort of suggested it but things sort of got lost and it was a crazy time - all this to say. He never found out for certain until this moment. 

Anyway, he’s like “I will raise her of course. As I should have done since the start. Send her here.” 

So young Alice is sent to live with her father whom she has never met until now. Grandma isn’t happy because she thinks men aren’t natural caregivers (ye olde internalized misogyny rears its ugly head). But what is she to do? 

Downey takes in Alice and they live at the guild. There is a lot of Downey get used to being a father; Alice getting used to having a dad. Fraught father-daughter relations. But it works out. 

MEANWHILE - Downey and Vetinari have been like “oh hello yes remember when we used to talk/be somewhat acquaintances etc. etc.” and it has fallen into an affair but a serious one because Vetinari does nothing in halves. All. Or. Nothing. 

Downey likes jumping into things headfirst so he naturally responded “give me all.” 

Part of the issue then is that Alice is on the scene. Vetinari of course says, “I don’t know anything about small children. Children in general. Any of that. Parenting. etc.” 

Not Vetinari’s wheelhouse. 

Let alone the potential threat should someone find out etc. etc. 

Still they somehow make it work and it’s very sweet and sometimes Alice gets into fights with young Sam. She’s deadly. Because she’s raised at the Guild. Downey has to explain that you can’t go and use all the techniques you’ve learned just because some bloke in class pisses you off. Though he tells her that he 100% Understands the desire to do so. 

(Vetinari is the one who told Downey that he had to tell Alice to not use deadly force on Young Sam. Downey had initially responded to her tactics with “good work, now next time what should you to do ensure success?” Apparently Vetinari found that Unhelpful.) 

Anyway - that’s the long and short of it. 

Vetinari and Downey get to be dads. 

The end. 

(thank you so much for asking) 

Vetinari: Downey you’re not telling Alice how to inhume children in her class.

Downey: She’s joining the guild in two years, it’s practice. 

Vetinari: 

Downey: 

Vetinari: 

Downey: You’re only saying this because Sybil complained. 

Vetinari, silkily: Yes. 

[embersrevived]

Questions Meme 

Tagged By: @sunflowercecil​

1. What is your name? “Nadir Darvish.” 

2. Do you know why you’re named that?” “Well ... I believe my parents specifically wanted their first and only child to have a name that either honored an important aspect of Parzian culture and tradition or was an homage to a renowned monarch in Parzian history, and eventually they decided on the latter. Nadir (Nader) Shah, if I recall correctly, was a king from a former dynasty who was renowned for his ingenuity and acumen, both as a statesman and military general. His military campaigns and exploits during his reign were so great that he has actually been dubbed ‘the second Alexander’ by some historians. I think my parents had been betting on having a male child at first, but then just decided to roll with it after I was born, haha.”

“Funny thing is, a lot of people just automatically assume that my name is meant to be some sort of ‘edgy’ moniker, like the antithesis of the word ‘zenith’ or something when that actually isn’t the case. Though that certainly doesn’t mean I appreciate the endearing little opposite-nickname that I was recently given, Zen-Zen, any less...~”  She furtively winks at @plague-doctor-jules

3. Are you single or taken? “Single. as a Pringle” 

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“Besides bringing all around me to their knees groaning with my tacky humor? Well ... incantation-wise, I feel I am somewhat proficient in spells that have to do with small-scale, temporary immobilization, like temporary stunning. Though I really refrain from utilizing such spells unless I truly feel the need to do so. The stunning spells really only are effective on small creatures, e.g. rats, roaches, etc. that I feel need to be halted in their tracks before being able to deal with them accordingly. Also some might argue that my horrendous jokes and puns constitute some sort of low-key ‘evil’ ability in themselves, haha.”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“Stop being an ‘idealized, seemingly perfect character? ... Hahahaha! How droll of you, when everyone knows that I’m practically the most awkward and gauche potato turtle in this here town. That’s a facetious jab at how I’m actually the complete and utter opposite of that, right? Right, it must be.” 

6. What’s your eye colour? “Very dark brown.” 

7. How about your hair colour?

“Very dark brunette, almost appearing even black from a distance.”

8. Have any family members?

“Yes, my mother and father, Setareh and Bardiya,  along with my maternal grandmother and grandfather, Roshanak and Cyrus. No siblings, though. I think after I was born, my parents decided that one was more than enough, hahaha ... I’ve been told that I was quite the troublesome little stinker as a tot.” 

9. Oh! How about pets?

“Well, I’m not sure if I should go about referring to my familiar as a pet, but my  albeit adorable call duck, Ordak is the only one I have currently. Back when I lived with my parents and not the magic shop, I did used to own a boisterous blue budgie, though ... someone forgot to close the door to his cage, and the little poopsie just chirped his wee heart out before suddenly taking off, never to be seen or heard from again.” 

10. That’s cool, I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

“Well ... I must admit I don’t really appreciate people who are overly snippy or snarky just for the sake of it when it isn’t really necessary, or because they find it ‘quirky’, ‘trendy’, or ‘edgy’ to do so. Basically people who show little consideration for others’ feelings in general, especially if they do so because they believe their elevated social status or sense of ego gives them a pass to do so. And people who just find it absolutely acceptable to do away completely with common courtesy when dealing or speaking with you just because they decide they don’t like, click with, or understand you as a person, or they personally find some attributes of yours irksome.”

“I mean, I feel you must always at least try to put a conscious effort into politely and tactfully dealing with even those you don’t jive well with or like much, I think. Especially because there will always be people you find yourself not being overly fond of, or who aren’t overly fond of you, there is just too much effort and negative energy to be put into going out of one’s way to not be civil towards others, at least initially.” 

“Also overly arrogant and condescending individuals, lord knows I’ve dealt with more than a fair share of those in my time, both in and out of  the realm of academia. Overly pretentious and critical individuals in general also. Though ... perhaps I have been too verbose and ranty in giving this answer, I do apologize. I ... I do tend to talk a lot, haha. In summation: just overly inconsiderate individuals in general.” 

11. Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

“Writing poetry at times, sketching, drawing, reading, occasionally engaging in mischievous antics, etc. ...” 

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“Oh, I’m sure ... I mean, I have certainly gotten into disagreements and all that with people in the past, and in doing so the distressed, angry tone that I may have utilized in the heat of it all may have hurt some feelings in the past. And I’d almost always feel some sort of guilt afterwards, even if things wound up being patched up and resolved betwixt myself and the individual with whom I’d had the spat. Though it is never my intention to go out of my way to make anyone feel badly about themselves or hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“But if you meant physically, no I don’t think - ... Wait. Wait. That one time, when the Ginger Floof  Julian barged into the shop and scared the bejeezus out of me with his overly dramatic, villainous entrance, of course how could I so easily forget ...” However, she does avert her gaze to the ground in shame as she recalls the events of that fateful night. “Well ... I did hurt Julian that ... one time when I threw that glass bottle during the invasion that one night, but I ... I didn’t know who he was at the time, and I certainly had zero idea as to what his intentions were ... though that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel the occasional pang of guilt, especially when I specifically recall that graphic image of the blood pooling and dripping down his cheek as a result of the injury inflicted around his eye.”

A sad, remorseful look engulfs the apprentice’s face before she snaps out of the flashback. “Ah ... I do apologize, ehr ... next question, please.” 

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“No. Though I’ve perhaps come close to doing so with my barrage of gods-awful puns” 

14. What kind of animal are you?

“I have been told by a few in the past that because of my more timid nature, I can be akin to a small rodent, like a mouse or a hamster, at times. Though my familiar is currently a wee baby call duckling who, though rather sweet and cute, can be quite the boisterous little stinker at times, which I’ve been told is apparently another side of me that is ‘unlocked’ once I get to know people and am coaxed out of my shell. So I guess it’s somewhat fitting in that sense, haha.” 

15. Name your worst habits?

“I tend to become distracted fairly easily, I reluctantly admit. Also, I ... I tend to allow my insecurities and anxieties take control and cause me to make decisions or act in ways that ultimately prove to be counterproductive. Also over analyzing things, people, and situations almost to the point of obsession, to the point where I find myself often skeptical and cynical of other’s motives and sincerity, allowing my insecurities and fears to hinder and inhibit me mentally and socially.” 

16. Do you look up to anyone?

“I look up to any individual who remains steadfast and dedicated to their cause or line of work, whether it be academic, scientific, humanitarian, etc. in nature, and shows a genuine interest in acquiring knowledge in their selected field of interest and applying that knowledge for the betterment of others. I admire anyone who has defined themselves and devoted their purpose to the likes of altruism, benevolence, and kindness. A certain auburn-haired, fugitive physician would be the quintessential example of this, along with his lovely and equally sweet sister.” 

“I also admire those who yet manage to be levelheaded and resolute in the face of adverse situations, those who seem to know how to improvise, adapt, and persist in the face of any given hardship, or who devote themselves to supporting and assisting others finding themselves in such situations. My father comes to mind.”

17. Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?

“I believe I’m straight ... Though these sorts of things have been said to not be entirely black and white, with it being a spectrum and all, so who can really say for sure?” 

18. Do you go to school?

“Been there, done that, haha.” 

19. Ever wanted to marry and have kids one day?

“I’ve never even really ... been in a relationship before, so I must admit that the thought of marriage has been a more distant one, and children even more so. One step at a time I guess? Ahahahaha ...” Sweat drop. 

“Though me, in any sort of relationship, with my awkward and anxious tendencies? Is that even possible” 

20. Do you have any fans?

“Why yes, I do as a matter of fact.~” And with that, she proceeds to whip out an intricately designed, vibrantly hued hand fan that Asra had brought her back from one of his previous travels. And yes, she knows very well that is not quite what the question meant. Something of a cheeky grin forms on her visage shortly after giving this response. 

21. What are you most afraid of?

“...Failure. My internalized insecurities and anxieties mentally obstructing my path and goals and clouding my vision and perception of the future. Not being good enough, ineptitude, then possibly dying after having ultimately accomplished little more than becoming carrion for the microbes and worms to feast upon. ... Wow, that definitely came out darker than I had initially intended, ehr ... sorry about that.” 

22. What do you usually wear?

“Ah, just the usual casual dresses, shirts, and pants, truthfully nothing fancy in the least.” 

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Ohh ... I’m sure there are a myriad of dishes that could be used to answer this, but if I had to settle on one? Pomegranate chicken, especially like my mother makes it, especially when coupled with this fizzy carbonated yogurt beverage that we have back home in Parzia ... you’d have to actually see and try it if you don’t know what I’m referring to, haha; it sounds a bit weird to those who didn’t grow up with it.” 

24. Am I annoying to you?

“Ah, no, not at all ... am I annoying to you? I do hope ... that I haven’t been overly loquacious or rambling in giving my answers? If so, my apologies.” 

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Aha, great. Wait ... that wasn’t meant sardonically, I promise, a-apologies if it came out sounding like that. Please continue.” 

26. What social class are you?

“I’d say more of the middle class, perhaps more on the lower end. Though we know that in the eyes of a certain gilded and flamboyant noble, that we are all seen equally as commoners and peasants, haha.” 

27. How many friends do you have?

“Uh ... well, I definitely consider Mas- ... I mean Asra to be a kind companion and friend ... and then there is Julian, whose company I’ve come to be rather at ease with to the point of engaging in regular banter and teasing. Portia is positively delightful and lovely as well. The Devorak duo is a true blessing, seriously. Such sweet, benevolent siblings. Selasi is rather amiable too, and I’ve had many a pleasant conversation with him every time I venture out into the market. Nadia has always been kind and polite to me, though I am not too sure if she’d regard me as a ‘friend’ just yet ... And I don’t think Muriel likes me very much, unfortunately.” 

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Aha, I’m not picky at all when it comes to saccharine treats, I pretty much think they’re all savory, cakes, pies, candies, etc. Though that doesn’t mean I indulge myself in them of course, haha. Certainly could do without anymore junk in the trunk” 

29. Favourite drink?

“Something known as the Parzian fizzy yogurt drink, basically exactly what the name says, plain yogurt mixed with carbonated water, with a pinch of salt and some mint to top it off.” 

30. What’s your favourite place?

“I don’t have one favorite place, to be honest ... Basically any place that is picturesque, serene, and allows me to pacify my nerves and be alone with my thoughts and away from the commotion of the general public, I guess. And I also must admit that the forbidden gardens in the abandoned courtyard that I visited with Julian that one time were quite lovely, I certainly wouldn’t mind revisiting that place.” 

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“Er ... W-well, I’m interested in a lot of people! Each and every individual has their own intriguing persona, a-after all ... Especially those towering, swaggering, cockily grinning types who tease yet become tomato-blushing, flustered messes the instant you give them even the smallest sample of their own medicine.” 

32. That was a stupid question…

“Ah, no, not really actually...” 

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“The lake, at least I’m less likely to be encountering any aquatic creatures bearing sharp teeth in a freshwater body as opposed to the saline, haha. Also already having to experience one type of “shark week” is more than enough.” 

34. What’s your type?

“Er ... Well, I guess just someone who’s kind, sincere, considerate, with a good sense of humor. Because honestly, even if someone is generally perceived as being ‘classically attractive’ or whatnot, it really matters little if their personality is unpleasant or lacking in general. To be honest, I really don’t have a specific ‘type’ so to speak...” 

35. Any fetishes?

Something of a dumbfounded expression appears on the apprentice’s face, though she is quick to vehemently shake her head. “What? Uhhh .... no? Not that I ... know of? No. Ahem, next question, if you please.” A crimson hue proceeds to engulf her cheeks. 

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Uhh ... wait, camping takes place outdoors? ... Unless you mean camping vs. just walking about and enjoying the outdoors in general, in which case I must say the latter. Just ... the thought of all sorts and species of creepy crawlies clambering over me while I’m trying to sleep in a tent would make camping the less preferable option.” 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging: @plague-doctor-jules​ @conceitedxglory​ @nevivorona​ @asrage​ @humortremors​ @caesiis​ @unlicensedmartyr​ @bluemoontm​ @mnemosys​ @bitters-enthusiast @strsha

Questions: 

1. What is your name?

2. Do you know why you’re named that?”

3. Are you single or taken?

4. Have any abilities or powers?

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

6. What’s your eye colour?

7. How about your hair colour?

8. Have any family members?

9. Oh! How about pets?

10. That’s cool, I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

11. Do you have any hobbies/activities that you like to do?

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

14. What kind of animal are you?

15. Name your worst habits?

16. Do you look up to anyone?

17. Are you straight, gay, or bisexual?

18. Do you go to school?

19. Ever wanted to marry and have kids one day?

20. Do you have any fans?

21. What are you most afraid of?

22. What do you usually wear?

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

24. Am I annoying to you?

25. Well, it’s still not over!

26. What social class are you?

27. How many friends do you have?

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

29. Favourite drink?

30. What’s your favourite place?

31. Are you interested in anyone?

32. That was a stupid question…

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

34. What’s your type?

35. Any fetishes?

36. Camping or outdoors?

[matildainmotion]

What if Self-Love is Not About the Self? By Natasha Fowler and Matilda Leyser

This blog is a collage.

A collaboration

A conversation between my words -Matilda’s- and….

….Mine, Natasha’s

It’s a blog about looking after yourself, ourselves, and how I, you, we go about doing that.

It is in two parts. You can also listen to the blog if you go HERE:

PART ONE:

First, to introduce ourselves:

Matilda: I am a mother, writer, theatre-maker, co-director of Mothers Who Make, wife, daughter, insomniac.

Natasha: I am a friend, a lover, a guardian, a wounded human. I am a White woman, descendant from my ancestors. I make art, share what I know and raise children.

We met at an international MWM meeting.

I’m trying to finish a draft of my novel by Christmas, so I am not writing any blogs. Instead, I send an email to Natasha, in Amsterdam….

Hi Natasha, Please let me know if you wish to write a MWM blog for the month of November. The only requirement is that it ends with a question, relevant to the theme of mothering and making, that can become the focus for the month’s meetings should people wish to take it up. Let me know….. Matilda

Thank you, Matilda, yes. I started work on the self-care article yesterday. I’m going to edit today and share with a few friends. I can commit to having it to you by Wednesday. I hope you have a good steady day of eating, working, caring and resting. I have stretched, washed and consciously dressed but my teeth are not cleaned yet (3/4 of my morning routine). Time to get off emails! Natasha

Late Wednesday, I receive Natasha’s first draft. I see it come into my inbox at nine pm, as I am about to read bedtime stories to my daughter – I think, ‘I won’t read that now, or I won’t sleep.’ I close down my laptop.

I don’t sleep anyway. One of the worst things about insomnia is the radical loneliness – an irrational sense that no one else in the world is still awake.

The next day, tired, wired, I read Natasha’s blog. I know I am a word control freak -I have been known to edit, and re-edit, a text message - but I feel uncertain about publishing Natasha’s draft in the MWM blog spot. I want more mothering and making in it. This also seems a very dubious response- to invite new, diverse people to write a blog and, when they don’t sound like me, to want to edit them to make them sound more so…..and yet, at the same time, I think there is something valid in wanting to look after the particular space that MWM holds, in meetings, online, in writings. After dithering for a few days, I email Natasha –

Hi Natasha, first a disclaimer: I am not in a great place right now. My chronic insomnia has become acute and I am not functioning well, so my critical faculties are pretty ropey! …But would you be willing, to include a little more about your mothering and making in the writing….?

Hi Matilda, It makes sense to me that my approaches and the boundaries of the blog are having a conversation. I am curious about why I don’t talk about mothering and making in a way that meets the criteria. I have an imaginative block for what that’d look like - which tells me I’m categorising the requirement differently to you. It’s a familiar thought cul-de-sac that comes with this Neurodiverse mind I operate in.

Neurodiverse. It’s a term that is relatively new to me and suddenly tremendously potent: at the end of September my son at last received an autism diagnosis. “I get it,” he said when my husband and I told him, “My brain does this” – he drew a detailed picture in the air of different, curved and diagonal connections between invisible points of meaning– “And other peoples’ do this,” he said, drawing a series of straight, right-angled lines.

Hi Natasha, as part of my learning in this area I would be very interested to hear a little more about how you name and describe your neurodiversity. Please send me a few lines articulating your sense of it - why does our exchange feel like ‘a familiar cul-de-sac’ to you? Tell me more about the cul-de-sac and the other streets and highways of your mind :-) Thank you again for your openness, integrity, and all your work on this. Matilda xxx

The cul-de-sac I talk about is a place I get stuck when I've been given a task and I have no imaginable concept of what that would look like. With a long conversation and lots of back and forth clarification, I would probably discover that I do know what you're talking about but I learned a long time ago not to try and clarify everything so precisely, it was not practical/ possible and probably led to people being annoyed by my questions.

Part of my response to the task is to think "but I made the writing - that's the making" and "I am a mother, so if I speak, I'm speaking from the experience of mothering".

In the end I understand the labels autism/ADHD/dyslexia/neurodiversity to be bureaucratic necessities in a world obsessed with 'normal'. The necessary diversity of human experience is medicalised, categorised in order for us to get the money from the system that is needed to exist in the system. I am disabled by what I live in and my race/class/gender identity have protected me from that disabling being far more consequential.

I can’t and don’t want to argue with any of this. I feel dismayed at the idea that my requirements for the MWM blog might actually in themselves be exclusive. I don’t feel good about wading in and making Natasha’s voice more acceptable within my idea of what the text should sound like. So, I think instead I will be transparent – I will leave her words as they are and add some of mine – put in the mothering and the making that I feel the need to include. As it happens, Natasha’s chosen theme, of the need for self-care to be a process that takes place as a collective, community act, could not be more relevant to my experience of mothering and making this month.

Here we go then….

PART TWO:

Natasha: I ran out of self-love this summer, overwhelmed by stories of all my faults, what I’d lost and not done. I spent too much time subject to a cruel inner tyranny. I held onto the idea that I could take care of the situation alone. That I could create the self-love I needed. I could not. I needed to depend on something beyond my self. Although I had vowed to love myself first only two years ago, I was now raising questions about this individualised ideal of self-love.

Matilda: Take care, people say. I still struggle to do this. I sit on the stairs at 3am. My husband is asleep. My son and daughter are asleep. They are 8 and 4. I am 46. I ought to be able to rest too - how can I possibly take care of them, if I cannot take care of myself in this fundamental way? Self-soothing is a skill that babies, some say, are meant to have learnt after only a few months. I tell myself this when I get to the sobbing stage at 4am. I fantasize about a mother figure– not my real mother who is 79 now, also in my care, also asleep – but some great giant of a mother coming walking through the woods outside. She is coming to take me up in her arms, hold me against her, above the trees, hold me, grown as I am, until I fall asleep. Because tomorrow I have other people to take care of– the children, my mother. And I have another chapter of my novel to write. I know I cannot write when I haven’t slept.

Natasha: I finally gave up the idea that self-love is my sole responsibility. I began to accept the dependence that exists, the vulnerability of my well being. My self-love became communal. Just like the child raising that I do along with my partner, our friends and family; just like the neighbourhood garden my wee boy and I joined in preparing for winter last week.

But how did I end up believing self-love is something I have to do by myself? Born in 1978, independence and individuality were highly prized values when I was growing up. To be able to do things yourself without help was a given. To be free of the demands of a group was important. The myth of singular heroes was all over the culture, from lonesome superheroes to introvert inventors and brave explorers. The heroes saved the vulnerable, and the vulnerable were symbolised as young, straight, thin, white women. The stories of everyone around the inventor and all that they did were edited out. The people who were there before the explorer even set his foot down were erased. The values of independence of individuality, invulnerability are seeped into my bones.

Matilda: Did you sleep? My husband asks me in the morning. I shake my head. He is worried. I am worried. I don’t know what to do. I have tried so many things. I tell him I might put a post about it on the Mothers Who Make Facebook group– “You should,” he says. “That’s what it’s for.” True. I started it, but I find it hard to reach out for support. I have a kind of pride, almost a snobbery, that has often stopped me sharing. ‘What’s on your mind?’ FB asks me – so many things, but I don’t want to place them in that white public space. It feels immodest to do so, to turn my life into a headline. But the truth is, I am afraid.

I recognise this. It is also why I find it hard to share my work. I hold onto it. I have been working on this novel for ten years, and hardly anyone has read it. It is the same reason I edit, re-edit text messages. I do not let people see the mess. The missed comas. The words out of place. I feel safest when sealed off, private, when only carefully crafted images of vulnerability are revealed. And yet, when I am sobbing at 4am, all I want is company. A giant mother. Someone, anyone, to see me, to see the mess of me.

Natasha: I am communally made. My ideas of who I am, what I do, what is the value in me are made during my relationships. Maybe I always knew that like the self-hate I was carrying, my self-love was a communal responsibility. I suspect there is something about the experience of being a mother in my culture that helped me forget. It seems to be an experience that isolates and calcifies our individual sense of responsibility. The International mothers who make calls were part of my communal self-love recovery. Getting to turn up to a new group and hear me tell my story and listen to so much good company. I hope we might all give and receive the love that we need to maintain a sense of our self being loved. I hope we are all learning what we need to learn to be able to do that.

Matilda: So I did it – I put the post on Facebook. I need some help, I wrote, I don’t sleep and I can no longer blame my children for this. My children are sleeping – I am not. Many of you reading this, may have seen it and responded. It was extraordinary for me to see such a huge number of compassionate, wise, responses so fast. Humbling. Profoundly helpful – not just the resources, but the act itself of reaching out and finding so many hands writing back. After only an hour, I went online to look and I could see the wavy line that appears when someone, somewhere is in the process of typing something. A real person out there, taking care. Not just one. Over a hundred. A giant number of mothers.

I wrote back to Natasha:

P.s. The amazing response I received to my insomnia post rather wonderfully proves your point - we don’t have to do this self-care thing on our own. Xxxxx

Don’t have to – can’t even – whoever you are, how ever your mind works, however brilliant you are, however vulnerable, however divergent, however alone you feel.

It sounds so simple. So obvious. We are interconnected. All the streets link up, even the cul-de-sacs have passages leading onto one another. There is no such thing as social distancing. Physical distancing, yes, but social – two metres apart between your thoughts and mine, your experience and mine, your words and mine – is just not possible.

Here then is Natasha’s, my, your, our question for the month:

How do you understand self-love, is it clearly something you must do for yourself? Or something you share? or maybe you practise other ideals of compassion? Maybe you carry some communally made self-hate too? How do you sustain yourself when overwhelmed?