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scarisd3ad · 1 month

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Superstar | football player!Joel miller x popstar!reader

Chapter six - obsessed

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Warnings - mentions of sex, cursing, body image talk, insecurity

Summary - when you find out about a certain football player showing up at your tour you decide to reach out just because of all the dating rumors, but what if thoughs rumors turn into reality?

A/N - it’s finally here, sorry for it being so late! But now that I’ve gotten this out of the way I’m aiming for the first chapter of jump then fall to be out sometime next week!

the next day i wake up with an empty imprint of where ollie was sleeping, joels arms wrapped around me in a comforting hold, and about 5 million notifications. mostly notifications from being tagged in posts and storys but theres some from friends in family too. like one from tara with a screen shot of a tmz artical titled 'popstar y/n l/n photographed with new boyfriend dallas cowboys star football player joel miller on a post game drive' paired with a dramatic open mouthed emoji. i roll my eyes and send back a stfu before dropping my phone back onto the mattress.

i turn hearing the bed frame creak quietly as i admired joel sleeping figure. he was laying on his stomach with one arm lazily wrapped around me. his hair was messy but he still somehow looked flawless. joel stirs as his phone which laid on the night stand ontop of his wireless charger began to ring. it flashed a few times showing off a picture of his mother and him paired with the contact name momma. unfortunately the phone stops ringing before joels able to fully wake up letting him fall back into sleep.

"joel" i whisper as i took my hand that wasnt tucked undernieth me to shake him. he groans eyes not even opening as he hummed a quiet "what?" as his arm that was once lazily wrapped around me pulled me closer. "when's your mom 'sposed to drop the girls off?" i whisper as his head ducked into the crook of my neck pressing lazy kisses to the length of it. "dunno, she has a key. she'll let them in when they get here" his voice is muffled by my neck as he takes a small chunk of neck flesh into his mouth and begins to suck at it. "joel" i giggled as i pushed him away "cant leave marks cant have any of that at any of my shows" he roll his eyes as he presses his lips to mine.

were inturupted by the sound of childlike giggles running up the stairs. "speak of the devil" joel chuckles as he sits up preparing to greet his girls. the door is thrown open revealing sarah and ellie. "daddy!" both squeal as they launched themselves into the bed. "we had pancake for dinner last night!" sarah says as she leans her head agaisnt her fathers chest. both girls excitedly tell their father what they had done with their grandparents the following night as he took turns pressing kisses to each ones forehead. i feel like i dont belong during moments like this, family bonding. im not their mother who can sit back fondly watching with a small smile, im just some stranger laying in their fathers bed. they hardly know me, and i hardly know them. thankfully a call from my mother is able to whisk me away.

"hi mom" i say standing in the bathroom, phone pressed to my ear as i stare into the mirror. "how are you doing?" she asks voice low as if shes trying not to wake someone. "fine...im doing fine" i have another 3 shows in houston next weekend so this weekend and this whole week is just about relaxation and mentally preparing for my next 3 shows which her very physically and mentally demanding sometimes. "your dad saw you on tv last night . he got real excited seein' you" i wish ever older man in his 50's felt like that about me right now. almost every man from the age's of 16 to 70 is pissed off at me cause they 'saw me too much' last night.

i wish i didnt let it get to me but it does. i put up this strong front like no ones able to hurt my feelings but everything they're saying about me does because for some odd reason men think not liking me means theyre allowed to call me a slut and threaten to kill me if i showed up the next game. im just glad joel hasnt seen them yet. "yeah?" i let out an awkward cough "yeah...your dad and i are trying to make it up to houston next weekend dad wants to see you preform again" i smile, though my father never understood one thing about my intrest in music and songwriting he was always my biggest supporter. "really?"

"y/n can you hurry up ive really got to pee!" i hear ellie shout from outside the door as my mother asks "where are you?" i sigh unlocking the door and letting ellie rush in as i rushed out. "Um joels house...but ive gotta go alright? love you."

i walk back into joels bedroom. both girls now gone leaving their father alone to scroll twitter and find out for himself what was the trending hashtag of the day. #fucky/n. how original. how old were they really because this was all really immature coming from men mostly over the age of 20. he's looking down at his phone brows furrowed in a scowl, finger still swiping. he hears my footsteps and looks up letting out a quiet "oh." i sigh arms wrapping around my body "who was that?" he asks. "my mom" i replied as i walked over to the bed and took a seat. "you dont have to go to any of my games again...if you dont want to" he whispers. he head cocks to the side as my brows furrowed. he takes my sense of confusion as an answer "y/n youre getting death threats."

i shrug my shoulders "ive been getting them for the last 5 years. i normally just ignore them." he sighs loudly as if he didnt understand my way of thinking, before changing the subject. "you staying for breakfast?" i shake my head "no. gotta studio session this morning..." joel nods. "can you keep ollie for a few hours? the session is early and im not gonna have enough time to drop him off at home."

im in my car driving down the freeway when i get a call from will. one of the first people i met in the music industry and a very acompished song writer himself. for years now will and i have been writing music together for his albums or mine, sometimes even a duet hear and there.

"you're late" he says voice almost drowned out by the sound of a few people in the back ground. "i know sorry. got held up at joels" i can almost hear the eyeroll through the phone. will wasnt the biggest fan of my past boyfriends. it started with will hating andy, he mustve saw the red flags before i did, then he hated harry because of his reputation of being a 'womanizer', then there was tom who he hated simply because he could practically see through him, and now the tradition has gone onto joel. he doesnt have a reason to hate joel yet but he'll find one eventually, he always does. "i know, i know alright. i'll be there in like 5 minutes okay?"

"alright okay see you in 5" he hangs up the phone leaving me to drive the rest of the way to the studio in silence.

when i get there theres a crowd of paps outside the studio, and wills standing by the door holding it open for me. wills got long floppy brown hair that comes into vague curls at the ends, and a pair of glasses that are almost too big for his face, that sometimes makes him look a bit goofy. his voice is deep with a heavy british accent that somehow doesnt pair well with his face. "morning" he says with a nod as i walked into the studio letting the door slam shut behind me. "got anything prepard?" he asks as we walk down to the studio that we had booked for the day. "a little thought you could me finish the rest." i say as will pushed the door open letting me walk in first before he did.

"alright let me hear it" he says as he takes a seat next to a bunch of sound equipment. i unlock my phone and open the 'voice memo's' app before playing the most recent voice memo from a few nights ago titled 'sparks fly?'

the voice memo starts off with me playing guitar before i start the first lyric "the way you move is like a full on rainstorm, and im a house of card. youre the kind of reckless that should send me running but i kinda know that i wont get far" will nods as he pauses the memo before un pausing it and letting it play the rest through "and you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch. close enough to hope you couldnt see what i was thinking of, drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain. kiss me on the side walk, take away the pain. 'cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile. get me with those brown eyes, baby, as the lights go down. give me something that'll haunt me when youre not around. cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile" the memo ends and will looks over at me.

"kay i like it. what were the cords you were playing?" shit, i hadnt written them down like i usually did before studio sessions. "um fuck, i dont know...i think it was a,f,c, and g? maybe those." he picks up his guitar that had be discarded beside him and begins to play almost identically to how i was in the memo. "aright was that end the chorus?" i nod a quiet "mhm."

"alright you got anything else?" i nod before saying "yeah keep on playing" i say and he continues to play his guitar trying to fill in the missing pieces to continue on the instrumental part of the song. "my mind forgets to remind me, youre bad idea. you touch me onces and its, really something. you find that im even better than you imagined i would be. im on guard for the rest of world but with you i know its no good."

we finish off the rest of the song, tweaking some lyrics here and there, and even recording the song before our we decided to head out. I'm in my car driving by 11:30 when i get a call. the caller id shows up on the screen on my dashboard. joel <33. i answer the phone call and joel imediatly starts talking. "hey baby, what you doin'?" he asks, i can hear the sound of him inhaling and puffing out air letting me know he's probably out on his back porch smoking a ciggarette. "driving. whatcha need?" he sighs out "nothin' really. just wanted to know if you want to stay for dinner t'night" i laugh as my car comes to a slow stop at a red light. "yeah sure, what you guys havin' tonight?"

"probably pizza dont feel like cooking. the girls will be happy with that." he says punchuating his sentence with an loud inhale before matching exhale a few seconds later. "so how long you think you'll be?" i hum pondering a bit as i hit the gas following after the car infront of me "maybe 7 minutes? im a few lights away" i say. i hear him slide open his sliding glass door and presumebly walking inside. "alright i'll let you go, rangle up these kids before you get here. see ya in a bit" the sound of the almost piercing beeps as he hangs up fills my ears before my phone begins playing the song it had been playing before joels call.

7 minutes later im pulling up infront of joels house to see him sat on the porch ciggarette hanging from his mouth, while the girls sat on the driveway drawing with chalk. i chose to park on the street so i wouldnt desturb sarah, and ellie. i step out the car shoving my phone into one pocket. "y/n!" sarah leaps up from the pavemet dropping the stick of chalk that was in her hand before running towards me. tiny arms wrap around my body as she hugs me. "are you staying for dinner? daddy ordered pizza" she says excitedly as joel walked up behind her. "go on and play with youre sister babygirl let me and y/n talk alright?" sarah pulls away nodding before running back towards her sister.

"hey sweetheart" he says before pressing a short, but sweet kiss to my lips. "pizza'll be here in bout 10 minutes ordered it right after i hung up with you" he says a he places the ciggarette he had pulled from his lips a few seconds ago back slotting it against his upper and low lip. i nod as i lean into his body "how was youre studio thing" he asks arm wrapping around my waist as we both begin to walk back towards his front porch. "good" i reply simply as he unwraps his arm from around my waist and sits down. somehow being in a relationship with joel miller was so easy i forgot how my life used to be. my entire world now revolved around football games, tours, joel, and his girls that i almost forget that 3 months ago i was still rotting my bed sobbing over the ending of a relationship i thought was going to be forever. the moment i took one step into joels life i was sucked in and hoped to god i'd never be pushed out.

"y/n! can you come draw with us?" sarah asks from her spot on the pavement. i look at joel giving him a look that almosts asks 'is that okay?' he nods saying "go, we'll talk later" i walk over and take a seat next to sarah on the somehow still hot texas pavement. ellies sat across from us, so deep into her drawing that she doesnt even look up to greet me. her knees are scratched up, probably from the pavement, and her fourarms, and hands are covered in a mix of different dusty chalk colors.

"look at my drawing" sarah says pointing at a larger drawing to her right. 4 stick figured people 3 female, one male, and one stick figured cat drawn to the left of the smaller stick figured humans. each one is labled 'daddy', 'y/n', 'sarah', 'ellie', 'ollie'. i almost want to cry at how adorable it is. she smiles up at me so proud of her work. i almost want to take a picture of it, but decide to take one later.

i want to stay here forever, or atleast have something similar to this forever. joel sat puffing on his ciggarette a few inches away, admiring from a far as i interacted with his children. interactions that make him wish he could have met me first. before the barbaras, or annas. interactions that make me wish he was the man i met 7 years ago on a red carpet, wishing i hadnt spent 7 years delusionally praying for a ring from a man who fell less and less in love with me every day.

a car with a bright red and white papa johns logo attached to the top of it pulls into the driveway. its almost like the girls have a routine for pizza nights. they both jump up leaving the chalk on the sidewalk and run into the house squealling "pizza!!" as joel snuffed out his ciggarette against the porch before walking up the young brunnette man with a wad of cash in his hand. i similarly to the girls dicard the chalk on the pavement and walk inside. i wash my hands before meeting the two girls at the table. their father already passing out slices.

"cheese or peperoni ellie?" joel asks, ellie who sat up on her knees in the chair says "both!" he shakes his head "nope you wont eat it all one or none el's pick one" she pouts as her arms cross over her chest "peperoni" she mumbles under her breath as she sit back down on her butt. joel nods before placing a slice of peperoni pizza onto a red plastic plate and sliding it over to her. "cheese" sarah says before her father can even ask her.

my elbows are sat on the table, a piece of cheese pizza half eaten sit infront of me. this all seems like something taken straight out of a movie, family sitting at the table casually talking about each others days. sarah telling her dad about the funny joke her grandfather had told her last night, joel chuckling recalling the same joke being told to him more than 20 years ago when he was her age.

it all felt so sureal, like how could i be apart of this? i met these people less than 3 months ago and im somehow already at family dinners. sometimes it makes me feel insecure, at moments the thought of feeling so left out because this is not my family even though im sat at their family dinner. he's my boyfriend but these are his children not mine, ive known these people for less than 3 months and only been actually dating joel for one of those months.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

three loud sharp knocks that the front door pull me from my thoughts. joel sighs dropping his slice of pizza before getting up mumbling about how he'd 'be right back'. the dining room is silent as we listen to joels hushed voice whispering to whoever is on the other side of the door. sarah stands up slowly walking over to the doorway so she could get a look at whoever was at the door. ellie follows as usual. monkey see monkey do. a loud squel like shout makes me get up just in time to see sarah running to the woman stood at the door. "mommy!"

she looks like sarah, with the similar but tighter dark curls, and similar dark complection. she beautiful. her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and though shes only wearing a tee-shirt and jeans she pulls it off fabulously. though there seems to be not even one wrinkle on her face i can tell she's closer in age to joel than i'll ever be. joels stood at the door uncomfortably as sarah hugs her mother. she's tall and thin, thinner than id ever thought about being, i could tell she was a model not only from her statcure but because i'd seen her only. probably an instagram account though i cant recall what platform i saw her on. "how've you been sarbear?" she asks as she hugs her daughter tightly. "good" sarah giggles as she steps away from her mother. the womans eyes now fall to ellie whos somehow now pushed herself behind me. "hey ellie how have you been" ellie shrugs from behind me.

joel tilts his head almost as if he's saying 'come here' i comply walking over to him with ellie trailing close behind. joel wraps his arm around my waist as the womans eyes fall to me. she looks me up and down about 2 times before smiling "and you must be..." she drags out the 'e' sound of be until i answer back meekly "y/n..im y/n" she nods a genuine smile on her face. "nice to meet you y/n. im barbara but you can just call be barb" i nod smiling. "how long have you two been together?" she asks eyes flicking up to joels "um bout 3 months right honey?" he says fake smile gracing his lips as he leans his head down a bit to press a kiss to my temple. "yeah about that" i say with a forced giggle as i lean into joel a little more. right in this moment my insecurities flood back in realizing i look nothing like her. she's thin, her body is fills out right where it needs to, she has no hip dips, no scars, no stretchmarks. she was perfect. if this was his ex was i not his type or was she not? i feel like i already know the answer to that question.

"barb why are you here?" joel asks, she looks at him and just laughs his words off. "im here to see my daughter" she says with a scoff as both her hands place on her hips. joel rolls his eyes "its not like you wanted to for the last 2 years" i know this is my cue to take the girls and let them have their 'adult conversation' so i pull away from joel and say "common girls lets go play with ollie?" both girl excitedly race up stairs towards joels room, where we had put ollie while we ate.

i sit on the bed with the girls my anxiety, and insecurities festering inside of me as the girls swooned over my cat. would barbara reappearing randomly rekindle their relationship? would i just be left in the dust? i know he was acting like he was annoyed with her downstairs but i bet if she tried he'd get back with her right? he'd probably rather be with the mother of one of his children than me. sarah deserved a perfect family, a mom, a dad, a little sister. she didnt deserve whatever she had right now, and i know joel knew that. and i know he didnt want it to be this way. from what i heard it seemed like she's not around alot and that why he's so uncomfortable with her being here, but if she preposed to start their relationship again i'd bet he'd agree.

her having him would mean she'd stay. even if it wasnt for sarah she'd stay, and sarah would have her mom back for good. there would be no need for some 'pretend mom' anymore. no more revolving door of girlfriends, though i despretly didnt want to be apart of that revolving door.

joel barges into the room, instructing both his daughter to get ready for bed before slamming the door shut behind him. leaving just him and i in the bedroom, alone. "she's staying the night." he grumbles arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me close. i dont ask why feeling as though it none of my buisness. i hum with a small nod. "i was just bout to head out then" i say pressing my head into his shoulder.

our 'sleepovers' if you even can call them that normally only lasted one night maybe till dinner the next night but definetely not a second night. "you're leaving?" i can almost hear the frown on his lips. my brow furrow in confusion, normally he wouldnt budge when i said i was leaving. a few kisses and im normally off but not tonight. his arms instictivly wrap tighter around my waist as if to say 'dont go'. but his ex is here, sarahs mother, wouldnt that be a little awkward?

"thought i'd just go...cause she-she's here. but if you dont want me to leave i can stay" i whisper pressing a few soft kisses to joels exposed neck. "yeah" he mutters with a nod.

barbara is on the couch downstairs, both girls are fast asleep in their beds, and im still awake scrolling mindlessly though barbaras instagram. she's got millions of pictures posted dating all the way back to 2014. she's nice, and i really like her i do but i cant help but feel jealous of her when i get posts from 2015. most with joel who looks so much younger, i can tell she's pregnant in most of them. i cant help but obbsess over every part of her body that doesnt look like mine, wonder if he prefers her body over mine.

i wonder how she was during their relationship. was she good in bed? better than me? did he prefer sleeping with her? did he ever think about her? was she still friends with his friends? did his mom like her better than me? and it doesnt make this any easier on me knowing he's got a kid with her and not with me. she's forever attached to him because of sarah but me im disposable. his children arent my blood, they arent from my womb he can forget me easily if he really wanted too. he cant forget her because he see's her every time he looks at his daughter.

im trying to pick out something for me to hate her, and the only reason ive come up with is cause she's basically abandoned sarah. the only photos posted of sarah was 8 years ago on her birthday july 20th 2015 baby sarah all swadled up being held by barbara who laid in a hospital bed, joel stood next to her admiration and joy gleeming in his eyes. then 2 months later sarah being help by joel with the caption 'favorite people'. then after than nothing radio silent its like the baby disappears. people in the comments mustve thought that too because every comment for the next few months of posts are along the lines of 'wheres the baby?'. im guessing thats when she left.

i know joel loves me, and that im probably going crazy but i cant help but obbsess over her. "you're still awake?" joel slurs, voice deep from sleep. i turn off my phone immediately and turn so im facing him. one of his arms wraps around my waist pulling me closer to him. "cant sleep" i mutter as he pressees open mouthed kisses to my neck and jawline. even as he's practically sucking hickeys into my neck all i can think about is that he's probably done this to her, while she was laying on the same side i was as he whispered quiet 'i love you's into her neck. i cant help it as tears form in my eyes that are quickly blinked back. i cant let him know how insecure i actually am. i dont want him to know how isecure ive gotten in the last few hours because i know theres a chance i could get hurt.

"wha's wrong? youre tense" he says pulling away from me. i freeze staring him in the eyes as his brows curl into a furrow. "whats wrong?" his left hand reaches from my cheek caressing it softly. "nothing" i mutter leaning into his soft touch. he hums questionably like he doesnt believe me but goes onto press his lips against my none the less.

im so obssessed that once joel goes back to sleep i cant help but scroll her page. i dont even know why im so obsessed, its not like im ugly im just not anything like her.

Taglist

@taylarxse @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @ktheunready @camixkami @skysmiller @mars743 @tylrswftss @alyhull @jenna-mcgraw19 @h4teh3x @lexloon @greensabereyesforcevictim @cozylibraries @celebrities-imagines @nezukos-number1fan @abbysgirll @marispunk @hopelessromantic727 @fairyain @joeldjarin

#fanfics #x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #the last of us show #pedro pascal #sarah miller #ellie williams #taylor swift #travis kelce

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bruhstation · 6 months

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Any fun facts on your bigg city cast you would like to share?

Can you share how you wrote fortezza bigg city. Such as inspiration and resources you found?

of course! I have a lot to share too (copy pasting some of these from my google docs, haha!)

their nicknames are their boats' names. conveniently, some of them are quite fitting for their sailors.

example: "ten cents" because he always asks to borrow a dime from his coworkers (and seldom returns them), "top hat" because he never goes anywhere without it, "hercules" because it's derived from his real name, "zip" because its both his given name and has a plethora of meaning in the dictionary (he was named first, then his boat), "boomer" because of its literal meaning and because he started going by his boat's unceremoniously changed name, etc.

they all refer to their boats with "she/her" pronouns.

zip doesn't know big words and talks simply and concisely. he knows how to read, though slowly, but is still learning how to write. he reads many children's books that are easy to digest in both story and words, like pollyana, pinocchio, heidi, the wonderful wizard of oz, and various children's fables. he also likes doing word puzzles like crosswords and word searches from newspapers.

zorran knows how to forge other people's handwriting, making him an even more valuable asset to captain zero.

top hat's family runs a boutique. he dresses and acts like an upper class socialite, much to his parents' disapprovement.

the bridge cafe is a popular hangout place for bigg city port's sailors. the members of the star fleet and z-stacks meet each other here coincidentally. navies also stuck around the bridge cafe when they got stationed in bigg city port like bluenose and grampus, much to the annoyance of everyone.

captain zero and captain star got married in 1909, at age 25. they got divorced in 1931, at age 47.

the reason? captain got involved with criminals for money, basically lying about his job as a normal, well-adjusted businessman who’s probably involved with bigg city port’s mafia or other mercenaries, so captain star divorced him. both because he’s a patriotic navy at the time and because captain zero has created more than enough lies for captain star to handle. other people got dragged into the aftermath of their divorce and lies. also they're not beating the mid dad allegations

captain star and captain zero rarely show up in person. they're very careful of their public appearance.

the z-stacks are part of something bigger. zip doesn't know this.

johnny cuba has some blackmail on captain zero.

ten cents and zip are thomas' grandparents.

zorran is diesel's grandfather.

regarding the story, here are some (fun) facts I want to share.

themes of names, youth, and freedom will be prevalent.

fortezza bigg city is set in 1938. the narrator is captain star. the stories are excerpts from his diaries.

if you’ve been following me for a while and paid attention to casa tidmouth, I aim to make FBC the foil to CSTM. it’s similar but also different to casa tidmouth. both feature regular, unremarkable people who are just doing their jobs while juggling with their environmental threat and conflicting relationships with their loved ones. the difference is that CSTM has more of a mystery urban fantasy feeling to it (gold dust, sodor's 70s tech in the year 1999, lady’s patrons who are keeping secrets from their loved ones, etc) while FBC has more of a realistic background to it (interwar era, criminal backgrounds, the great depression, etc)

the titles of both works are italian. casa means home. fortezza means fortress.

a lot of literature I've read are inspirations for fortezza bigg city. demian, catcher in the rye, moby dick, the little prince, l'etranger, watership down are some of them. emil sinclair's character and his relationship with frau eva and franz kromer helped me write zip. you can say that ten cents is his max demian wait who said that.

many of t*tsuki f*jimoto's works are huge inspirations for fortezza bigg city, and my works as a whole. ch*insaw m*n, g*odbye eri, m*rmaid rhapsody, and f*re punch are some of it. the way he writes adolescents and their complex relationships with their parental figures became a great help to me. I also write from my personal experiences and thoughts, especially regarding the captains' relationships with their youngest members. (here's some panels from g*odbye eri that stuck with me)

h*useki no kuni is also an inspiration, but its effects are not as big as the one in casa tidmouth.

many clothing resources are taken from vintagedancer, old magazines, photos, leyendecker's works, and even my university's library. here are some of my favorites.

despite the way I've described captain star's relationship with TC and captain zero's relationship with zorran+zip and the overall setting of it, I want FBC to have a more hopeful feeling to it. I have a vision of making FBC some kind of crime comedy (it's hard to describe the genres of my stories)

I think that's all I have to say for now!

#asks #isjssjsjshuuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyyyy #this is tugs #fortezza bigg city

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samantitheos · 21 days

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Weekly Tag Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @deedala and @jrooc. 🖤

Name: Sam.

Age: Older than Cam, younger than Noel.

First Pet? Buck, a black, long-haired cat who lived to be 23. 🐈‍⬛

First Word? I just tried to ask my parents...

First Celebrity Crush? So JTT seems like a common denominator among a bunch of us... Also Devon Sawa (I basically wore out the VHS of Wild America at my grandparents' house) and AJ from the Backstreet Boys.

First IRL Crush? Calin, my grade 4 "boyfriend." Also still randomly have dreams about him once in a while despite not having seen him in like 20+ years. What does it meeeean???

First kiss? This is so sad, but I actually don't remember. Probably one of my friends during Truth or Dare.

First Car? I spent my hard-earned cash working at A&W on this monstrosity my friends nicknamed "Hot Thunder." Smh. All I know is shame.

First apartment/house/dorm/whatever away from your parents? This tiny little house we rented that had bright orange 70s-era flower power wallpaper in one of the rooms. I'll spare you the picture, but nightmare inducing.

First time on a plane? Going to Cancun with my parents when I was 3.

First cellphone? Nokia 3310, I think. I just remember playing the snake game. 🐍

First concert? Rod Stewart. Thanks, mom. Lol.

First Foreign country you visited? Probably the US, but definitely Mexico when I was 3.

First sport you ever played? First team sport was softball, but I did a bunch of other shit even before that (ballet, swimming, figure skating). I was so athletic, I have no idea what happened lol.

First career aspiration? I went through a weird marine biology phase before I probably even understood what a biologist was.

And finally… tell me about the first time you wrote/drew/created/whatever something that made you think "wow": Feeling pride in my own work? Ew. But I guess my MA dissertation if only because it was 5 times as long as anything I had ever written before, and I didn't think I could do that.

Giving a little boopity boop to some homies. @gallapiech @lingy910y @krysmiss @mickittotheman @energievie @whaticameherefor @wehangout @callivich @camnoelgallavich @depressedstressedlemonzest @sam-loves-seb @sluttymickey

EDIT: My mom just texted to say she thinks "Buck" was my first word. 🥺🥺 But also that I couldn't always pronounce it right, so maybe my dad wasn't too far off with "fuck." 🤣

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday

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stillfrownyclownlol · 5 months

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Logan hcs...I like him!

-Domestic abuse survivor, which is hc really close to my heart, he just...really reminds me of me

-his taste of music is a little old fashioned because he listens to a lot of stuff his grandparents listened to. Soft spot for 70s music and disco is his guilty pleasure

-he IS an Astrology girl actually (I know it's a typo let me have this) and he reads his horoscope in the morning. Tries to see who is compatible in the group based on their zodiac. Tyler acts super annoyed about this but he dies a little inside every time Logan says their star signs aren't compatible. (I think Tyler has a crush on Logan that leaves him acting stupid)

-loves to bake!!! Always helping his grandma with the baking :) he can make some mean chocolate chip cookies fr, and crepes too. He has the biggest sweet tooth and he loves pastries a lot, but not candy.

-Mostly a cat person, big breeds scare him and he also gets triggered easily by loud sudden noises (like barking)

-Super squeamish and hates blood, viscera, vomit, etc. First week after Savannah he wanted to die cuz he was puking so much after each shift. Hates horror movies, especially gorey ones.

-very uncoordinated and clumsy overall, its why it took him the longest to improve during self defense training and why he's such a bad dancer. His fine motor skills and hand eye coordination are really good tho, has the highest wpm between his friends.

-has a hard time raising his voice, because he'd get hit for "talking back" :/

#sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard #logan fields #headcanons #tw domestic abuse

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darling-rosey · 7 months

Text

Lost Boy

Warning!! There's references to abuse of a minor in this, along with injuries as a result of the abuse described. Please be careful reading or skip entirely!

(The title is in reference to Peter Pan and Ruth B's song! The Mc is female coded!)

Wally Darling & Reader.

You're visiting your elderly neighbor and she's found some old tapes from her cartoon collection! An old children's show called Welcome Home.

"Oh, what perfect timing you have, Dear!" Grams exclaims as you nervously peak into her apartment from the door. "Come in, come in! I'm sure this is something you'll be interested in!"

You do, quietly shutting the door behind yourself and shuffling over to the kind of smaller box your elderly neighbor is looking through.

Grams isn't your actual grandma, you've never met either of your actual grandparents from either side of your family. Though you can't say you've met too many people in your short five years on this planet to begin with. But Grams just told you to call her that, since saying her actual name was proving difficult for you. She's a sweet old lady, who lets you stay for days on end in her apartment when things in yours are getting a bit too much. Says you remind her of her own kids and grandkids in every way except personality. Mostly.

She actually enjoys having you around, unlike your parents.

"This is all from an old show that was on back in the 70s," Grams tells you, pulling some things out of the box. You lean on the arm of the couch to get a peak, seeing it's a few old VHS tapes. A lot of Grams' cartoons are recorded on VHS though, so it's not much of a surprise. "I liked watching it with my kids when they were just young babies. I'd say my oldest was even younger than you when the show first started airing. I had forgotten all about it!"

You know Grams likes cartoons, her hobby as she tells you. She has a lot of cartoons recorded on VHS tapes, which she first got into so she could record shows for her kids. She has old Winnie the Pooh cartoons, Looney Tunes, Mickey Mouse shorts and the House of Mouse, Tom and Jerry, Josie and the Pussycats, old Betty Boop cartoons, the retro My Little Pony ones, Scooby Doo, The Powerpuff Girls, and just about any oldie cartoons you can think of. She's apparently gotten some off of some network called Boomerang, the Hanna-Barbera cartoons. She's also collected some of the stuff they'd sell for them over the years, toys and mugs mostly.

She's watched some of the newer cartoons too and said she's found quite a few of them rather entertaining and good, but the oldies will always hold a special place in her old heart.

It's surprising she'd forget about a cartoon with how much she loves them.

You lean a bit closer to peak into what else is in the box, but jump back when Grams looks over at you again.

"Would you like to watch this today?" She asks. You timidly nod, Grams shakily standing up with the help of the couch's arm. You come around and climb onto the couch while she puts the VHS into the player.

You glance towards the box in curiosity, but quickly look away again while sitting up straight. Grams shuffles back to the couch, a kind grin on her face as she settles on the couch again. The VCR whirs a familiar comforting sound you've really begun to associate with this apartment that helps you relax just a bit more.

The show's title card fades onto the screen once the "snow" disappears, bright and colorful and inviting. The show's called... "Welcome Home" apparently, spelled in bright bubbly letters. The title card fades, the view then panning down to a house with eyes in the window and someone stepping out of the house.

"Hello, Neighbor," a guy with yellow skin, big blue hair, and lidded eyes greets, a warm smile on his face. His voice is soothing to you as well, helping you relax just a bit more.

You're... a bit enraptured by the colorful cast and the calm nature of the first character, watching the episode with rapt attention. This episode is about Sally, the one shaped like the sun, putting on a performance with everyone else and it not exactly going as she planned it. It's... fun!

All too soon the episode ends though, much to your disappointment. But you try not to let that show. Grams still grins at you though, chuckling just a bit.

"Did you like it?" She asks. You're hesitant to say you did, even if you know Grams wouldn't make fun of you for it or stop letting you watch the show if you did. You force yourself to nod, making Grams smile even wider. "Well, then I say we watch all the episodes I've got in my collection. Doesn't that sound fun? I think I've got some snacks we can munch on while we do. I can make some popcorn too!"

Grams gets up again and hobbles towards the adjacent kitchen, beginning to rummage through the cupboards in there. She calls your name after a second.

"Could you come in here and help me carry everything out, Dear?" She asks. You jump up to help her, taking the various bowls and bags she hands you. "What would you like to drink, Dear? I've got apple juice, lemonade, and milk. Oh, I might need to call up Ashley later to get me some more groceries."

"Apple," you answer, a little quieter than you meant to. You say it again louder, knowing that Grams' hearing isn't as good as it used to be. In her words that is.

"Alright. Apple juice it is," Grams nods, pouring a cup for you. You take the snacks out to the coffee table, setting it all down while Grams comes back in with two cups of juice. She sets the cups down, switches the VHS tape after rewinding it, and then settles down on the couch again to watch another episode.

She continuously hands you treats while watching as many episodes as you both can well into the night. But she eventually has to turn in for the night, getting you a nice soft pink quilt to cuddle underneath on the couch.

"So, who was your favorite character?" Grams asks, pulling your hair up into a bun for you before heading to bed.

"....I like Wally. He's soft," you replay, quietly. You figure you don't sound very confident in those statements, you don't think you did.

"I think you two would get along very well," Grams nods, backing up. She heads for the box, looking around inside of it. "I always liked Julie myself when I first watched it so many years ago."

She turns again when she seemingly finds whatever she was looking for. It turns out to be a toy of the titular character himself, with that soft grin and everything. Old looking, a bit worn, but still in good shape.

"Here. I'm sure he'd be happy to keep you company tonight," Grams grins, you hesitantly reaching for the doll. She doesn't pull him back and lets you pull him into your lap, hugging him tight to your chest. "There, he looks happier already. Your hugs are a lot warmer than a dusty old box."

You giggle a little, hiding your smile behind Wally's hairdo.

Grams then heads into her bedroom, leaving the kitchen light on for you. You lay down on the couch, cuddling the Wally doll under the cover of the cute white and pink quilt. Looking down at the plush, you run your fingers over the soft sweater it's wearing, looking up again at the soft cat-like smile of the character.

You let out a little squeaky hum, hugging the toy closer to yourself while nuzzling into the pillow. You fall into a pleasant, restful sleep for once. Belly full and, while you still ache all over, content.

_____

"Hey, Grandma. I got your groceries."

You jump, startled from your focus on the Welcome Home episode playing on the TV to look over at the woman walking in through the front door. She pauses just for a second at the sight of you, but then goes and puts the reusable cloth bags on the counters and starts putting things away.

"Oh, thank you, Dear. Are you going to visit for a bit?" Grams asks, turning to look at the woman.

"Yeah, I will," Ashley confirms, nodding as she slides a box into one of the cabinets. Her curly hair bounces with the motions of her head, her leather jacket squeaking before she's sliding it off and tossing it over a chair.

She finishes putting things away before she's walking over and leaning against the back of the couch.

"I see the squirt is visiting again," she comments, looking down at you. You hug the Wally toy Grams let you keep a bit tighter. Ashley just ruffles up your hair. "Nice to see you again."

She then plops down in a chair and turns her attention to the TV.

"What're you two watching this time?" She sends a confused and curious look to the TV at the completely unfamiliar characters on it.

"An old show I nearly completely forgot about. I used to watch it with your mother and uncles all the time when they were just kids," Grams replies, looking back at the TV herself. She motions to you, grinning easily. "She's been completely taken by it, and we had more episodes to watch."

"Huh, neat," Ashley hums, tilting her head a bit more. "Does the little yellow guy always stare at the screen like that?"

"He's often looking at the screen, yes," Grams nods, looking back at the TV. "He's the one that interacts with the audience the most."

"I see." Ashley still doesn't look very impressed, if anything she looks a little disturbed. You don't mind it, returning to the colorful characters on the TV.

Ashley stays for a while that night, only getting up to grab things for Grams. But later she goes into the kitchen to make dinner, Grams getting up to head into the bathroom for a moment. That leaves you with only the doll and the TV.

You look between the bathroom and kitchen for a moment to make sure the adults are out of sight, breathing a sigh of relief once you notice they are. You set the doll aside, then pull up your shirt with a bit of a wince. You carefully check the big bruise on your ribs, then the cloth you taped on your side to soak up the blood from the cut underneath it.

Your side really hurts when you move, but you're really sore all over anyway.

You quickly pull your shirt down again at the sound of footsteps, grabbing the Wally plush and looking back at the TV again. You blink when you see Wally frozen on the screen, staring, but then the episode resumes like normal.

"Oh," Ashley hums, pausing right behind the couch. "I thought the episode had stopped for some reason, since the sound disappeared. Guess it worked itself out or something."

She turns and goes back to what she was doing, Grams coming out of the bathroom a moment later. The three of you have dinner in the living room, Mac'n'Cheese with cut up hotdogs. You eat yours quickly and gratefully take seconds when Ashley offers.

She has to leave eventually though, Grams going to bed and leaving you in the living room by yourself again. You let out a breath once everything is quiet and you can hear Grams snoring in the bedroom. You curl closer to the doll in your arms burying your nose into the side of the doll's head.

Your shoulders relax a bit more, sinking into the blanket and couch.

You really like it here, though you know you can't stay forever. And you do eventually have to go back to your parents' apartment, which you do after two more days in paradise and it's the same as before you left. But that's hardly a surprise.

You're excited to be back in Grams' apartment nearly a month later. She's left the Wally doll out for you to take and cuddle with, then puts on the Welcome Home show for you again while she does something else. You're grinning, excited to see it again.

There's a pause in the beginning. It takes a moment for Wally to come out of Home and he's staring wide eyed at the screen. But then the episode is playing as normal again. Even if it's one you've already seen, it still makes you smile. It still brings you the same joy as when you first saw it.

The neighbors are so nice. It..... Home looks very nice and the neighbors all seem to care about each other. You... You think... it'd be nice to be in the neighborhood with them, to play with them and everything. Though sometimes they're a bit loud for your tastes. It still feels... like a warm place to be you think, where you wouldn't get hurt and wouldn't have to hear your parents yelling at you.

Maybe you wouldn't hurt as much there.

"I have to go out today, Dear," Grams says, making you jump. "Would you like to come along?"

You sink into the couch.

"No? Alright. I showed you how to run the VCR, didn't I?" She asks, shrugging a coat on. You nod. "And the phone?"

Another nod.

"Alright then. You can keep watching cartoons here, alright? Call if anything happens," Grams says. You nod in response. You wait a few minutes after the door closes to jump up and head towards the bathroom. You look through the cabinets for some band-aids.

You sit on the couch again, pulling off your shirt to look at the cut. You have to pull the tape and cloth off, wincing the entire time. But the bleeding's stopped, so you don't need the cloth anymore.

You find some of those wipes Grams says is for cleaning wounds in with the band-aids. You remember those hurting a lot, but Grams says they're necessary for the healing process. The cut on your side was healing before, but it's been reopened every time before it could.

Reluctantly, you open one of the packages and swipe it over the cut. No matter how much it makes you whimper and tears threaten your eyes, you do as Grams did and swipe it a few more times. Then you place a line of band-aids over the cut. It makes you feel bad to use so many, but Grams told you it was important to cover the whole thing.

You wince as you finish the job, then look over all the bruises on yourself. Your torso and arms are more black and blue than anything else, your skin nearly wrapping around your ribs. It makes you sniffle a bit. You clean up after yourself, then shakily sit back on the couch and hug the Wally doll again.

Your eyes look up at the TV again, seeing it's paused. You blink, confused for a moment. Wally's just staring at the screen, motionlessly, the other neighbors doing the exact same as him. All like you had hit pause on the remote, but...... you don't remember doing that. Nor do you remember anyone but Wally ever looking at the screen like that, like he can see straight through it at you.

There's a pause for a moment. Then....

"Hello, Neighbor," Wally says, much like he does at the beginning of an episode. You blink. "Poppy wants to know if you're alright. You look.... hurt."

You nod slowly, still confused.

"Good! If you're hurt, it's always important to have someone you trust look over it. Like we do with Poppy," Wally continues. You bury your nose into the Wally doll, but nod slowly.

The last time you showed anyone the bruises, it didn't end well though. Your parents just got even more angry.

Apparently the puppet could see some type of conflict or reluctance on your face.

"Would you like Poppy to look at your boo-boos, Neighbor? You could play with us after," Wally offers, turning to completely face the screen. He's smiling, his eyes are wider than you're used to seeing. "We can make sure you're all better and everyone would love to officially meet you."

You blink a couple of times, tilting your head.

"It'll be lots of fun," Wally assures, giving you a warm look. "The neighborhood is always safe and fun."

You look back towards the door, then at the TV again. After a moment of thinking about the offer, you nod. Wally's grin seems to widen, happy.

"Welcome Home."

_____

Grams sighs as she finds her apartment empty when she gets back. But the TV was turned off and everything's neat and tidy.

"I suppose she wasn't able to stick around for long this time," Grams says, a bit disappointed. "I do hope Ashley is able to help that poor girl before anything happens."

Grams goes about putting away the tapes and the blanket she keeps specially for when you come around. They'll be ready for you the next time you come back, whenever that'll be. She just hopes you come back soon.

#welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #wally darling #reader insert #child!reader #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw child neglect #darling writes

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remcycl333 · 1 year

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Hi Rem, I’m this anon. I just came back to tumblr with new successes.

I mentioned that I was argumentative and snappy, so people rightfully disliked me and I had a couple fights with people. I dwelled on self hatred and guilt because of it. Then I watched Self Generousity and Redemption of The Self by Edward and turned my image around. Multiple ppl suddenly apologized for something I thought I was in the wrong. Now everybody is super nice and likes me more than they ever before. I used to feel excluded but now everyone wants to include me

Turning my friends into Swifties lol

2 of my fav bands releasing music and touring. They r old bands from the 70s/80s that arent really active anymore, one of them haven’t released anything for ages so this is something

I thought of this person in my old fave band and how I miss listening to them, then the next day my friend sent me his new project that just came out

Visiting grandparents' hometown after almost 3 years since the last time we visit bc my grandparents had passed away so my parents didn’t think of going there anymore. Then my mom got a call from my aunt who lives in the same city that her in-law had passed away and she wants us to go visit.

Rare books that I couldn’t find for years.

Car, clothes, shoes, bags, and my mother constantly buying me things without being asked.

Know how to drive manuals 😭

Higher allowance

Trip to 2 countries this summer!!!

Desired body! I mentioned that I had some addictions in my prev post, that made me really unhealthily thin, but now I have all my meat on the right place lol

I’m gonna talk more about that as LOA had been a huge help for me to get through it, please skip the indented texts if ur uncomfortable with the subject

TW: substance abuse

I’m kinda ashamed to talk about this, but fuck it’s anon. I also have several other addictions too that I’m still shameful about, but currently working through it

I decided to manifest getting clean and I really really didn't want to go through crazy withdrawal so I manifested not having it (kinda, I did get sick but it wasn’t bad) with LOA. A friend told me he never had it from hard drugs, it made me confident on this.

What did I do?

1. Got in the state of being clean and never had an addiction

2. SATS every time I had anxiety about it and revise the times I did those things into something productive.

It’s been almost two months and I myself couldn’t believe how not hard it was.

I had people calling me druggie and mentioned these things to my friends and even strangers in public, but since I changed ppl’s perceptions it never happened again.

Manifesting is really easy. I know it’s already mine because my inner man already experienced it. All I do is make sure my inner man is satisfied.

That’s it for now, I’ll share more stories soon ♥️

omggg you're killing it as always!!! thank u so much for sharing <3 you deserve all this and more!!!

#success stories

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goopsims · 11 months

Text

13 ACACIA AVENUE (CC FREE BUILD!)

hi! ok i love building lots i think i spend more time building and decorating than i do playing the actual game LOL but i use lots of cc and i know not everyone loves using cc so i never felt like posting any of my builds so i decided to give building without any cc a shot!! a little challenge for myself to branch out with my style too i usually build old farmhouses that your grandparents decorated in the 70s and havent touched since so yeah! this is really different for me!! i hope you enjoy!! ^__^

built on a 40x30 lot in san sequoia with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a large garage, a pool and lots of other activities!!

i built this imagining a family from mt komorebi who just welcomed a new addition to the family and needed a little more room, theyre very eco conscious so the roof is solar, they have a windmill and a few of the kitchen appliances have eco upgrades!

again completely cc free but i DO have all the packs

wait small lie i did use two pieces of cc - @pictureamoebae's shiftable mirrors & @ice-creamforbreakfast's parenthood cabinet fix but they arent necessary theyre just for cosmetics .. i do recommend them though LOL

thats it though!! so remember to tick the box to show custom content in the gallery & enjoy!! dl and floorplan below :-)

gallery id: loversdreamersme

OR download the tray files

#the sims 4 #ts4build #ts4lot #show us your builds #dl

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hollyhomburg · 6 months

Text

It sucks when I decide not to confide in you guys because honestly today was HELL and I cannot go into it without going several pages into my current lore, but BASICALLY

My grandparents are getting kicked out from the house they’ve lived in for 60+ years, primarily because an uncle who is not one of their children is worried about the housing market taking a downturn and not getting his money. The house is a 3.4 million dollar house, it’s next door to my little cabin. This uncle is very well off and in his retirement, when he purchased the house he signed a legal document (notarized by lawyer) that my grandparents could live there for the rest of their lives.

However last month, he sent an email stating that he was kicking my grand parents out on the 5th of November. My mother and a lot of my aunts and uncles are very upset about this, mostly because of my grandmothers dementia- moving her into an unknown location would decrease her memory substantially. A lot of other people where angry on account of them having no place to stay (it’s been decided they’re going to stay with my uncle but at the time we didn’t know where), and because he gave two 91 year old people 30 days! To move 80+ years of their life! a few of my cousins started to chime in, and then my mother sent an email saying that this was not a conversation that anyone should be having but their seven kids and the conversation was moved to a private chat. My grandparents are supposed to move into our house eventually, but our basement apartment is just beginning renovation for them- we need a good year until it’s ready because we’re poor and can only afford to do it slowly and mostly on our own.

And then comes my sister, who has been externally close with this aunt and uncle. She has been mostly non-communicative about this until today, where she called up my mom to see if she could come visit this weekend- because my whole family- all like 70 of us - are banning together to help my grandparents pack up their lives. My mom started to vent to her- and my sister chewed her out for the e-mail saying It was uncalled for and basically took my aunt and uncles side in the whole situation. As well as Criticized her for being financially irresponsible and not having the basement done, blaming her for my grandparents predicament. My mom was /sobbing/ by the end of it. It took my brother and I like- 20 minutes to calm her down.

She then proceeded to call me 5 times before I picked up, and we had a hard conversation about it all, and when she point blank asked me if i thought she should come home this weekend and I told her that no, I didn’t, because our mom needs support not judgment and she’s going to feel her feelings no matter the facts and what we personally think is right, and if she can’t hold her tongue and be supportive to just my mom- then her being here would cause a lot more stress. And that No matter the situation with the rest of the family and what I personally think should happen- my top priority is my mom and getting her through these super tough weeks tbh, not even my grandparents well being, not my aunt and uncle, not even her at this moment.

She thanked me for being honest with her and we ended the call after she apologized for missing my birthday. Which I was honestly really hurt about but brushed it off because I am just too burnt out to care.

Then after we hung up she texted me this, and we had this conversation

And now I’m wondering if I went too far, if I was too mean, if it was bad of me to deny my sister the last chance to see my grandparents in their home. I don’t know, things have been so hard, I hate this, I hate feeling angry and resentful towards people I care about. I just feel like the saying “honesty without tact is cruelty” really applies to it because like, you can about what you’re feeling without it hurting the people you love. I also told my mom I didn’t like the email she sent out to the family- but I was able to do it in a way that didn’t make her sob. Ugh I just don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong and terrible and just ugghhhh I need to sleep

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anotherkindofmindpod · 6 months

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(deep breath in) Thank you so much for this episode. Really outstanding. Also you are going to get me fired because I did this instead of working. :)

So, the dive into the question of Jim’s corporal punishment and how it is framed has really gotten to me. Apologies for the rant.

I think ML acknowledging the corporal punishment in the way he does is actually quite revealing—a little bit about him, but this is also a generational thing.

He knows it’s a topic other writers have brought up and he (however reluctantly) accepts that it has played enough of a part in the Beatles book world that he must at least touch on it. But he chooses to do so in as glancing a way as possible and with a nod to Mike’s comic narrative voice. Yes, there was physical punishment in this house, but it’s the 1940s/50s and that’s the way it was and we (including the kids involved) can all look back on it with rueful humor.

And look, I get it. Mike’s comic candor in the 1960s places his and Paul’s experiences squarely in a long tradition of what I think of as “bragging rights” stories of childhood crime and punishment. My experience of my own older relatives aligns with how Mike narrates what to us are pretty awful events. The stories people in my parents’ and grandparents’ generation would tell—and tell laughing—about what outrageous things they did as kids to get themselves into trouble and how awful the punishments could be, were many and varied. The more ridiculous the hijinks, the worse the punishment, the better the bragging rights.

I’m guessing like most people of their class and generation, Paul and Mike grew up with a kind of affectionate “it sucks when the grownups start hitting, but meh, that’s life, amirite?” attitude they would have picked up from members of their own family and from their peers. 95% of all stories dealing with corporal punishment written or told before 1960 reflect that attitude. Mike narrates their childhood stories in exactly that vein. Paul does too in a limited way: but only about his teachers (who are outside the family circle of loyalty that you rightly point out).

All of which is to say—and you make this point in the episode but I want to emphasize it here as well—that it is doubtful that any concept of abuse or of equating anything that went on in their home with abusive behavior ever entered their heads at the time—which to me is why Mike can talk about it in the way he does and why Paul doesn’t mind him telling those stories. I think it’s less (at least in the 60s/70s) about either Paul or Mike trying to slip information to the rest of the world than it is a genuine belief that these are amusing and typical stories.

The quote you offer about Ringo from 2015 being surprised to discover that his childhood was not as rosy as he remembered it is hugely instructive. Even after experiencing a lifetime of better conditions, it still took an outside perspective to make him reconsider how he’d framed events and circumstances. To apply this to the McCartney family, Jim’s reliance on corporal punishment was standard, so already the kids are going to frame his behavior as normal. If his actions were in any way different or more extreme than other parents, how could they judge that? This was the water everyone was swimming in at the time.

To be clear: I’m not saying that there is an “acceptable” level of corporal punishment and if we can say that Jim stuck to that level, then everything’s cool by 1950s standards and we should leave it there. But I think that’s exactly what Tune In IS saying. I think ML uses Mike’s comic tone as evidence for how not-a-big-deal this aspect of their childhood was which gives him permission to sidestep it. And if earlier Beatles writers spent time detailing Jim’s actions, then they, like Mike, are utilizing the stories for a touch of period charm, not to take a deeper or more nuanced look at Paul’s childhood. And he’s right. It isn’t like previous authors framed this as a Topic, just colorful background.

So, ML chooses to nod to the fact that previous writers have dealt with this, but since we in the 21st century don’t find stories about children being beaten nearly as “cute” as earlier generations did, he eschews going into detail, perhaps thinking that by not including these details he’s being tactful (like it is retroactively embarrassing to Mike and Paul that we know these things), or at least reflecting a more modern sensibility.

But as you point out, this is where we run into trouble. We DO know these things. Can’t un-know them. And we have the advantage of years of research on the adverse effects of corporal punishment that tell us there is no “acceptable” level of violence against children. And yes, while both Mike and Paul make light of this topic in the 60s and 70s in their different ways, we also have the fact that Paul brought it up in a more complex way in discussing his “showdown” with his dad. Whatever they felt at the time, isn’t it worth exploring how either the people in this history or how society at large view this topic NOW? Isn’t the advantage of writing a book about past events that you can explore these experiences in a larger context?

Late WWII / Boomers are a tricky generation on the question of corporal punishment. A lot of them grew up in homes where this was common, silently certain they would not use physical violence as parents themselves but also absolutely not thinking of what they experienced as potentially damaging. And they would be offended on their parents’ behalf if you framed it that way. If I were to guess, I suspect that’s where Paul and Mike live—and perhaps a lot of readers in that generation? I may be being presumptuous here—in that weird headspace where you get to the point where you have enough perspective to know a loved one’s actions were Wrong but to hang a weighty label like “abusive” on that person or on their actions feels equally, perhaps profoundly, Wrong. If nothing else, it exposes that person to a characterization you maybe don’t want them to have. And for outsiders to do so is just going to shut down the conversation.

I think ML is absolutely right in his overall takeway that in the end Paul’s view of his family settles into one of a safe and stable place. It is where he feels loved and known as “Paul MacCartney” instead of “him.” I think overall, the support system they provided (and still do) gave him more emotional resources to draw on than John had when they faced similar tragedies. And Jim is not a villain in this story. One of my favorite early Beatles stories is Jim bringing Paul lunch sometimes at the Cavern Club—it's such a sweet dad thing to do. Jim is good people. Most of the time.

But the idea that it was always that simple, or that getting to that place of security wasn’t a journey with failures and pitfalls and significant effort, is demonstrably a failure to engage with the facts as we know them. And it denies Paul (and Jim for that matter) the “reality” of growth and struggle and change.

(deep breath out)

Thanks for this, Anon! We've already said plenty in the ep, so we've nothing to add to your great commentary here. Thanks for listening! ❤️

#AKOM #Fine Tuning #Shells & Barriers

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bratshaws · 1 year

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through the hourglass 124. brb x oc

a/n: my day is going a bit intense and I don't know how to feel about it. hah. just...send good vibes guys, pls. reblogs and comments are super encouraged <3333

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none.

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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/106/107/108/109/110/111/112/113/114/115/116/117/118/119/120/121

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Nicole loved going out with her parents, it was one of the few things her still developing mind could connect with fun. That and spending time with both of her grandparents. She was still six months old, still a baby but she was very alert.

Her doctors often told her parents how smart she was for such a young age, in fact they mentioned that she might expand her vocabulary really soon, maybe sooner than any of them expected. So to her, looking out of the window from her little seat as her father drove them somewhere was enough to catch her attention, “Aa?” she stares at the window, making Beatrice look at her then to see what she was so intrigued by.

There was a huge billboard with a dog on it, a pitbull that resembled Jolene a whole lot. “I know, honey. It’s a dog.” her mother says, “It looks like Jojo,doesn’t it?”

“Buh buh buh.” she giggles, kicking her little legs, those tiny Mary Janes were making their daughter look like a little doll, “Ha!”

Beatrice smiles, rubbing her daughter’s leg fondly before she goes back to her original position, “Well, at least she’s having fun.” she sighs, sinking a bit in her seat, “I’m so…nervous.”

Rooster hummed, dropping one of his hands from the wheel to land on her thigh, gently rubbing the denim covered limb with his thumb as he paid attention to the road, ‘I know,me too.” he says, “I don’t know why, considering the why was dealt with.”

“I think it has to do mainly with the fact we are coming back to the clinic six months after Nicole was born?”

A pause.

“That could be it.” was his muttered reply, followed by a clearing of his throat that turned into a short chuckle as he removed the hand from her leg to hold onto the steering wheel, it’s twin coming up to his face to hold his head up as his elbow stayed on the window, “It’s not that weird,there are people who had babies three months apart.”

“That’s…” she frowns, “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I mean at least we waited– well not waited because it wasn’t planned but uh…we didn’t did it so soon.”

The silence that followed was humorous and worrisome, because both of them just looked so confused by this situation it was hilarious. So much so that Nicole herself started giggling, even if she had no idea what was going on,”I mean I guess.” Beatrice’s mouth curved into a smile when she heard Nicole’s laughing, there was no way to be worried when that little girl giggled, she just made all the fears melt away, “I just hope it goes well, you know? And figure out how far along I am.”

“How far along do you think you are?” he asks, “Any idea?”

“I’ve looked it up on the old flier I got at the clinic and apparently it’s one month along…I think.” she didn’t seem to trust her own words, in fact she looked even more conflicted, “I’m trying to remember if I got my period last month….um…” she holds her forehead and clenches her eyes, “I don’t know if I did, I could check my calendar but I don’t know.”

“I think it’s better if we just check at the clinic,gorgeous.”

“Yeah…yeah you are right.”

Beatrice just chewed the side of her mouth in thought, still mentally counting the days in her fingers, calculating, moving her fingers in a square, then a circle, with her brows furrowed because obviously there was a way of knowing.

Bradley just offered his wife a little smile, then patted her thigh fondly because he knew she was trying to soothe her nerves. The rest of the week was…fine. People still questioned if everything was okay because both of them looked way too happy but quickly dropped it once they mentioned anything about Nikki.

Was it wrong?

Not really considering their daughter was getting bigger and bigger and achieving so much so soon.

Speaking of her, Rooster looked at her through the mirror, her sandy brown hair was pulled into two low pigtails and her pink dress with shorts made her look like a little princess. She just looked out of the window, with pure amazement because everything was so new to her, everything infatuated her so nicely, she was an amazing little baby.

And Rooster didn’t want to miss those moments.

He hadn’t told Beatrice about the…possible special mission after the holidays, whatever it was it needed a lot of research. If they had time to figure out how to do it, it meant they got the advantage…possibly. The last time they had at least a few weeks to prepare, maybe even a month if he wasn’t wrong and it was dangerous as fuck.

Whatever it was he had to mentally prepare for when he had to leave…which part of him didn’t want to, not really, he wanted to stay but he couldn’t. He had been having a lot of these thoughts lately, these conflicting moments in his mind that sometimes weighed too much for him to handle.

He decided to focus on always coming back home, as safe as he could be. It was what he could do at the moment, nothing more.

“We’re here.” his wife says, looking out of the window as he turns the car towards the parking lot, there weren’t a lot of people from what they’ve seen, “...well…are you ready?”

“I’m ready.Are you?”

“Hrrm.”

Her little noises always made him smile, he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her forehead, kiss that little furl between her brows and chuckling when she just blinked up at him in confusion, “We’ll be okay, gorgeous.” he reassures her, opening the car door and walking around it to open her own.

Beatrice smiles in thanks, standing to her feet and clenching the flier in her hand as she looked towards the building. How odd was it to see it again in…such a short period of time. The lady who scheduled their visit didn’t seem to judge either of them, she just laughed and said they were ‘always welcome’ there.

It was nice…a bit overwhelming but nice.

She taps the flier against her palm, her anxiety climbing up to her shoulders and making them tense up. She paced around a bit as she waits for Rooster to pick Nicole up, looking back at him with a little frown when she hears the passenger door close and the obvious tinkling of her rubber monkey echo around the area.

Her husband shouldn’t look so good while carrying their baby girl and yet he was.

And he was just wearing his usual shirts, nothing out of the ordinary but she always said that Rooster could make a potato sack look nice if he wore it. He locks the car while holding Nicole on his opposite arm and pulled his sunglasses to his scalp after shoving the keys into his pocket, smiling up at Bea, ‘You good?”

“Hrrmmm…” she says again, rubbing her eyes, “I guess.”

‘It’ll be fine.” the tinkling gets louder when he approaches Beatrice, “You’ll see.”

Nicole babbled almost in agreement, shaking her little monkey in hopes to make her mother smile, which did work but Beatrice’s eyes were still nervous, she was wringing the little pamphlet in her hands with such force that the shiny paper squeaked under her grasp, “Yeah, okay…we better go inside.” his hand on her lower back was a comfortable reminder that he was still there, being her supporter every single moment of their lives and she couldn’t be more thankful.

He just pressed her back a bit harder to push her forward, never hurting but just enough to sign that she should walk and he’d follow. Nicole was mesmerized by the surroundings, the huge plants adorning the outside, large windows with colorful stickers from the children’s rooms and with the windchimes moving with the wind.

She brings her monkey to her mouth, turning her head to keep the windchimes in her vision until they got inside. And then she looks around again and this time she vocalizes happily because there’s a lot of fun colors in there.

She bounces a bit on Rooster’s arm, happily giggling at the different posters and pictures on the wall, making her father smile, “Yeah? Nice isn’t it Nikki?” he says quietly seeing there were a few people there “But, hey,shhh,” he brings his finger to his lips, “We can’t be too loud here.”

Nicole babbles a bit more, her tone going quiet but she smiles because her dad was so silly! Beatrice approaches the front desk with Rooster right behind her, tapping her fingers on the cold surface as the secretary looks up at her, already typing something in her computer, “You’ll be seen soon.” she says, “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you.” she is surprised at how stable her voice sounded, still holding the little flier in her hand as Rooster cups her lower back, guiding her to the empty black chairs tucked on the wall, “Hrrmm…”

“Bea, it’s okay.”

“Hrrmmm.”

“Baby.” he laughs, kissing her head and waiting for her to sit first, Nicole immediately wanting to trade places and stretching her arms to Beatrice, “Baby it’s okay…it really is.” she just remained silent, nuzzling her daughter’s hair and closing her eyes with a soft sigh as he sits down on her left, grabbing her free hand to bring it to his lips, “Gorgeous…come on.”

“I feel like…I don’t know what I’m feeling.” she whispers just so he could hear, holding Nicole up with her hand behind her small back, keeping her upright and safe as she shook her noisy monkey happily, completely oblivious to what was happening, “It’s…unreal? I think…or too real, or maybe both- Rooster I’m not making sense.”

He chuckles, kissing her hand again, “It’s okay,gorgeous…you are nervous,I’m nervous,Nikki isn’t nervous because she’s having such a huge blast with her toy she couldn’t care less,” cue to more shaking,”We’ll just…check how things are, see if everything is okay with the little bean and then we’ll go home and have something good to snack on.”

“Hrmm…”

“Maybe even Mr.Scoops.”

He could see the faint curve of a smile, her eyes meeting his, “They are having the Christmas Bundle again…I think it’s okay…” she whispers, “I just…I don’t know I…I mean,it feels more real now,you know?”

“I know.”

“Like,” she looks at Nicole, “Look at this. We made this little baby.” Nicole stops chewing her monkey to stare at her parents, “And-and we made another one that’s growing in me right now.” she blinks, ‘And I…I have been having symptoms and I ignored and I thought it was just because of,I don’t know, stress but it was just the birth control failing- I need to check with the ladies too,so I…I don’t know, figure out another type of contraception because this…was surprising.”

Rooster uses their interlaced hands to keep his head up, eyes so filled with love and care he felt like he was ready to explode from inside out. She still enamored him so much, nothing changed from that moment at the bar, at all, he still loved her and thought she was the cutest human being ever, “You are precious.” he coos, kissing her knuckles then her cheek, “You are going to be okay, one thing at a time,gorgeous.”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t trigger the anxiety now, okay?”

“I’m trying.”

He smiles, kissing her again and leaning back on the seat with his hand still latched with hers, his opposite one was on his lap as he looked around the clinic. In fact there were very few people there, just another couple not too far from them and another one that just arrived, the soft music over their heads brought him back to Nicole’s ultrasound.

Speaking of Nicole, she was moving her head around curiously, trying to focus on something in such a big space was hard but she was trying her hardest. She brings the monkey’s arm to her mouth and gnaws on it, the squeaking from her gums rubbing against the soft material making Rooster look over to her…and his eyes narrowed, tilting his head just a bit, “Nikki.” he begins, “Nikki, hey,look at dada.” she looked back at him, she could identify that ‘dada’ was him and mama was Beatrice, a huge feat for such a young baby, “Let me see your mouth.”

Nicole keeps on chewing, the question making Beatrice snap out of her thoughts and look down, “What?” Rooster gently pries the little girl’s mouth open and smiles when she giggles, moving her lips just a bit, “What’s wrong?”

“She’s teething.”

“What?” she tries to keep her voice down, leaning her head to look into Nicole’s mouth herself and seeing two very faint white dots on her lower gum, not breaking the skin yet but very close to, ‘Oh my God.”

“Yep.’ Rooster pulls his fingers away and smirks a bit more, leaning on his elbow against the chair, “You are growing,little bird, you are going to get your first teeth.”

“Aa!”

“Yeah! It’s exciting!”

“We need…to get fluoride and, and some ice,” Beatrice mutters, her eyebrows furrowing, “And some things to soothe the teething pain and…” her hand automatically coming up to her chest, “And to myself, she’s still drinking from the source after all.”

Rooster drops his eyes from her bust to her face,earning an exasperated glare from his wife, “What?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.” he smirks, but then his face relaxes, “But no,you are right, we can get some stuff already and keep it saved up for when the chompers,” he gently wobbles Nicole’s chin, making her vocalization vibrate and her laughter get louder, “Come out.”

Beatrice looks down at Nicole, who once her father let her go, looks back at Bea with a gummy grin. Nicole reaches for her mother, grabby hands and all, and Beatrice pulls her up and tucks her against her neck, closing her eyes, “She’s teething.” she whispers, “She’s already teething,Roos…I-I’m too imbalanced hormonally to handle this, I feel like I’m going to cry!”

“Bea…” he smiles, even though he feels pretty much the same way upon noticing that yes, their daughter was indeed growing bigger and bigger every day. Soon enough she’ll be able ot walk and talk fully, have full on conversations with them and hell, in a blink she might leave for college.

He didn’t want to think about that.

Thankfully, they wouldn’t have to, because their names were called. Beatrice’s head snaps up then back at Rooster, her brows low,”It’s okay,gorgeous, give me Nikki.” she does, not before kissing the little girl’s head, standing up with her husband following suit. He coos Nicole, who whines because she was oh so comfortable in her mother’s grasp, walking alongside Beatrice as the two wander to the ultrasound room.

Beatrice already knows what to do, she’s already sitting on the bed as the lady tells them the doctor is coming soon. Beatrice huffs, adjusting herself while pulling the elastic of her sweat pants down the curve of her stomach, looking down at it, “Do you notice anything?”

Bradley looks up from Nicole to his wife’s stomach, then furrows his brows, “Not really? It looks the same, gorgeous, not that different.”

“Hrrmmm.” she sighs, dropping her head back down onto the bed and blinking at the ceiling, “We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“We will.” he looks around for the chair and immediately sits down when he finds it, thankfully it is right next to the bed so he could reach out for Bea and touch her hand if she feels too anxious, which he knew she would. “Nicole is excited.” he tries to distract her with a conversation and when it involves Nicole it really helps.

Beatrice turns to look at the two, seeing their little girl looking behind Rooster to a large Sesame Street poster, vocalizing and bouncing a bit in Rooster’s arms, “She is.” Bea smiles weakly, “She loves Sesame Street.”

“More than Dr.Chimp.”

“She might be into more…vintage stuff.” she says, “Like her parents.”

Bradley wouldn’t mind that. The thought that Nicole would share more of their interests was really nice to think about. They stop their chatter when they hear the door open, the same woman from before - when she saw Nicole in the womb - appears and she’s delighted to see that the little baby will join them.

After a short greeting she takes place on the little stool, pulling on her gloves with a grin, “Well,I guess I don’t have to repeat the directions,do I?” Beatrice laughs weakly but shakes her head negatively, pulling her shirt a bit higher to expose more of her stomach, “Let’s begin then.”

The first touch of the ultrasound was always the one that made her wince the most, it was cold and sticky and it was a bit uncomfortable but she could handle it. She drops her hand from the bed to reach towards Rooster’s, smiling when her husband grabbed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her wedding ring.

He keeps his hold on hers, rubbing reach of her knuckles with a gentle brush of his thumb as Nicole chews on her monkey, watching the strange lady rub the strange thing on her mama’s belly. There’s silence for a few seconds, before they hear the woman say,”So, you want to know how far along you are,yes?”

“Yes,I uh…I was really busy these past months so my period wasn’t the greatest.”

“Right so,” the woman leans back a bit, showing the little dot on the screen, “From the size I’d say around six weeks.”

Beatrice blinks, “Six weeks? That’s one month.” she tells her husband who just looked confused, then arched his eyebrows when she explained, “Oh,huh,well,that explains a lot.”

But the woman kept moving around a bit, then pulled her stool closer to the screen and then smiled, “Ah…I guess the pregnancy was a surprise.”

“Yeah,” Bea laughs,”It was…we didn’t plan it.”

A pause.

“Would you guys like to know the second surprise?”

Both of them just stared at the woman, who pulled her head back and angled her hand on Beatrice’s stomach. It took a while for them to see through the blobs of gray and white, the little dot still looking a bit wobbly.

And then,suddenly, Beatrice’s eyes widened, “...No…no way.” she whispers, clenching her husband’s hand, “Rooster.”

Brad, however,was having a harder time figuring out what was going on. He had to stand up to approach the screen, all the while holding Nicole to his chest…and when he noticed it, his jaw dropped.

“...holy shit are those two?!”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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quidfree · 15 days

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hey! so you’ve mentioned francis’ sexual traumas a few times and while they are brought up a little bit in the book i still can’t pinpoint his exact situation. could you talk more about your feelings on the matter?

tw: sexual trauma and generally bad childhoods

yeah, canon really doesn't give us much about the wild life and times of its cast but it does crucially tell us about his childhood stay in what was basically an institution. and francis himself tells richard outright that the kids there were coerced to fabricate their sordid sexual misconduct just to placate the adults. from what ik abt that type of place back then & the subpar parenting vibes olivia gives i don't doubt francis was exposed to very adult concepts of sexuality, relationships, and mental issues way too young.

the rest of it is just me riffing on backstory, but i imagine given the kind of culture and society he grows up in, not to mention the inherent shaming and confusion in that space associated with his being born of his sister-mom (in airquotes) who had a teen fling with a nobody and then whisked him chaotically around the globe while his grandparents raised them both, francis has subzero shot of going into any relationships with a healthy mindset. not to mention hes growing up definitively gay in the 70s. all of his relationships are clandestine. the only canonical one we see is with an ambiguously straight guy who only hooks up with him drunk and we later find out said guy turns very ugly when he's drunk. and we know francis maintains that relationship long after all we see of charles-francis is charles abusing him verbally while francis takes it.

if we're veering a little further from canon my 2 cents are that francis' early sexual history undoubtedly includes very dubious firsts with people who should not be sleeping with him, closeted teachers or older students etc. i don't imagine his formative experiences were good for his psyche given what he settles for later.

that's not to say every single encounter he's ever had was mired in tragedy. he is evidently genuinely flirtatious and refreshingly frank about it for the times when you think about the moves he makes on richard- i would optimistically venture that this shows he's had fun with his flings too. maybe even charles, before it all went south. who knows what his relationship with kim was like before his grandfather caught them. but as a rule given francis Does live in fear of being caught out by his surrogate parental unit and his anxiety / paranoia is generally exacerbated exponentially by the murders i don't think he has a great chance of having had any meaningful, long-term, open-your-heart connections, at least not post hampden. not because historical gayness dooms you to furtive dark rooms but because that's francis' canonical cross to bear, at least by close of canon.

#qui parle #qui repond #anon #tsh #francis abernathy #all the tsh charas are so sad guys. but francis' backstory is up there with the twins' for most fucked.#i just don't know if i think francis has ever had someone tell him they love him and not hurt him all the while

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coochiequeens · 2 years

Text

Only an AGP would think miniskirts are part of a camping outfit.

17 May 2022

An Autogynephile in the Wild

"You are trapped in the wilderness with a man who won’t stop talking about his penis. This is not good. This is not normal."

Susi Quinn

“Atthe big spa in town, you have to shower naked,” says our guide, Helga, with some relish. “The tourists don’t like this, especially the American women, and sometimes they try to shower with their swimsuits on. Now, I’m a big lady, and I put on my deepest voice, and I bellowed at them to take their clothes off. You should have seen them scurry away!”

Helga and Jackie burst into raucous laughter. There are some polite chuckles from the men in the group. I say nothing and look away.

Helga is not a big lady. Helga is a tall, rugged man who has had his eyebrows plucked and his penis cut off. I don’t need to speculate about this with terfy prurience, or perform the fabled genital inspections, as he has told us all about his operation a great many times already. It’s day two of a wilderness expedition in Scandinavia, and we’re reliant for our safety on a man who will not shut up about the contents of his pants. I grit my teeth and give thanks once again that the group is small enough that we don’t have to share tents.

There are five of us on the trip—two youngish men so far removed from gender discourse that they don’t even recognize the trans flag; Jackie, an older lady full of Not Like The Other Girls energy; and Claire, a fellow fortysomething who hadn’t followed gender issues closely, but whose discomfort with the situation almost matched my own. All we were missing was a beardy bloke to tell us ladies what to think about the issue, and it would have been an almost perfect reflection of society in microcosm.

Iwasn’t quite sure what to make of Helga at first glance. He picked us up from the bus station wearing tight capris, a tight shirt, and a ponytail under a baseball cap, and I didn’t catch his name; was this some unfamiliar men’s Euro-fashion or was he trying to dress “as a woman?” Were those eyebrows just a bit too neat and unnatural? Is he wearing foundation or just sunblock? Regular moobs or the estrogen variety? Is he making that weird pouty face on purpose? I didn’t have to ponder for long; within about ten minutes, he had declared his identity as “a transgender woman” and started telling us about a local documentary that had been made about his bravery and unconventional life.

Quite likely he’d misinterpreted our scrutiny as a form of “Is that a man or a woman?”, that proverbial bad-faith question asked by homophobic grandparents in the 70s and 80s during Top of the Pops. His sex, though, was never in question; even Jackie, who tried her hardest to “validate” him at every turn, first greeted his appearance with “Oh, I was expecting a woman!”.

I made some quick calculations about the male/female numbers in the group, and set to worrying about what the sleeping arrangements might be, and whether I’d need to make a fuss. The travel company had promised we’d be sharing rooms on a “same-gender” basis—did they mean same-sex? I hadn’t even thought to check.

In the back of the minibus, the group made introductory small talk. Is this your first time in the country? Have you been on this type of adventure before? The two men were quiet and conventional; Claire was friendly and asked more questions than she answered; Jackie was talkative but mostly about herself. More than the rest of us, she looked the part of a rugged adventurer, and I was hoping she’d make a fun travel companion, but there was an edge to her conversation that gave me pause. As if her identity depended on being The Most Rugged Lady Adventurer In The Village, she always had to top our tales with a boast of her own. Only mine and Claire’s, of course. She deplored the existence of “women’s” outerwear, and was proud that she bought hers from the men’s section. She mocked Claire for needing to check in with her teenage son on the phone. Had Jackie been forty years younger, you can bet there would have been pronouns.

“Back at the camp, Helga has changed back into his miniskirt, which he wears around the campfire while cooking.”

She wasn’t the only one to keep talking about herself. During the long drive to our destination, Helga spent less time telling us about the sights and scenery than about himself, his life and his achievements. Not his genitals, not yet—those conversations would wait until we were a genuinely captive audience. For the moment, there were enough nuggets dropped for me to piece together a picture of almost textbook autogynephilia—there was an ex-wife somewhere, and a child or two that he’d ditched to follow his fetish; an ultra-macho hobby and an obsession with how he was perceived. A litany of dull, dull boasts, me me me me me. I looked at the blonde ponytail coming out the back of his baseball cap. Dollars to donuts there was a bald patch under there. He never took the cap off.

Helga’s adventure-guide credentials clearly hadn’t prepared him for some of the less rugged aspects of guiding, such as knowing the itinerary, communicating unexpected changes, or remembering that we needed to eat. Instead of the central hotel and restaurant meal we’d expected for our first night, we were eventually dropped off late at a remote self-catering lodge, petrol-station hotdogs in hand, to ponder the events of the day. The five guests gathered in the corridor to chat before we turned in; all of us had been on small-group trips before, and this one was unusually amateurish. And Helga himself? Awkward silences, awkward platitudes. We’d all been on enough small-group trips to know that it was a bad idea to alienate your companions by spouting political opinions; we were diplomatic and guarded. This was no time for terfing. Tiptoeing around the trans question, we gave him much more leeway for his failures than we otherwise would have; there was an eggshell brittleness to the topic, and nobody wanted to put a foot wrong.

The organisational failures continued well into the next day, but it was with great relief that we were eventually issued with a tent each, and there was no question of anyone being asked to share. As we packed up the last of our equipment, Helga reappeared, brandishing a small plastic bottle with a large hole cut into the side. This, he explained, was his homemade she-wee. If you make one yourself, remember to sand down the edges, or you might get a nasty cut in an unfortunate place, haha! We nodded politely, really not wanting the mental images. Why was he telling us this?

To reinforce how convenient this device was, he wandered a few yards away, turned his back, and made use of it. We hadn’t even left the depot yet; there was a real toilet just indoors, and there he was, pissing out in the open, with a flimsy excuse that stretched “plausible deniability” to its breaking point.

“Was he taking advantage of our isolation and dependency and general British politeness to override our obvious discomfort with the subject?”

Several strenuous hours later, we’d reached our campsite—beautiful, wild, bleak, and utterly, utterly remote. In other words, we were now a captive audience. Helga ramped up the trans talk almost immediately, dropping in references to his castration wherever he could manage it. Often this took the form of jolly anecdotes that we were clearly expected to laugh along with.

“Some old men were complaining about how women make all the drama, but I told them that all the drama in me was taken away with my balls!”

“The first time I wore a drysuit after the operation, I forgot I no longer had a penis, and when I unzipped my fly to pee and went to grab it, there was nothing to grab!”

“After my operation, the doctor told me that in some cultures, trans people were considered to be almost gods!”

He approached Claire, walking alone on the beach, and told her how, as a teen, he’d hated his penis so much he almost cut it off with a knife. Uh, good for you, I guess? How do you even respond to something like that? Why should anyone have to?

Early in the Trump administration, commentators had exhorted us to keep hold of our expectations of “normal,” so we would see how far from normal things had become. This trip had started strange and become stranger; I had to dredge out my memories of other tour leaders to realize how abnormal this behavior was.

No other tour guide I could think of would have so much as mentioned their genitalia, not even once. They wouldn’t have told us all about any other medical treatment in such detail. They wouldn’t have pissed in front of the group. Nothing about this was normal. And yet nobody was saying anything. I wasn’t saying anything. Did Helga move in circles, online or off, where this topic was so normalized as to have become regular small talk? Or was he taking advantage of our isolation and dependency and general British politeness to override our obvious discomfort with the subject? To override it and even enjoy causing it? I felt grubby, all the time.

Look at what’s in front of you, don’t be distracted by the glitter. You are trapped in the wilderness with a man who won’t stop talking about his penis. This is not good. This is not normal.

Day 3. Jackie has now become openly hostile towards Claire, with mean-girl behavior quite incongruous from a woman in her 60s. We find jellyfish washed up on the beach, which Claire deems rather upsetting and disgusting; Jackie picks one up and throws it at her, she and Helga squealing with laughter. And there it is again—dominance and power plays, using our discomfort to jostle for status and reinforce their own perceived superiority. Towards Helga, Jackie now affects a chummy gal-pal sycophancy, which Helga quite laps up. Except on the very frequent occasions when Jackie slips and calls him “he,” far more often than anyone else does, a hilarious Freudian slip which serves to illustrate which dynamic is really in play here.

Back at the camp, Helga has changed back into his miniskirt, which he wears around the campfire while cooking. The rest of us are still wearing the grubby hiking trousers and multiple woollen layers that we’ve been sleeping in for two nights. I can’t tell if he’s touched up his makeup again, but his performance of femininity still includes that peculiar expression that I noticed on the first day—a sort of wide-eyed, open-mouthed pout that is familiar from the many selfies and avatars I’ve seen in the trans regions of Twitter and Reddit. Is this what they think women look like? Do they think we also laugh alone at salad? He obviously missed the memo about how women don’t typically blow snot out of their noses into the bushes, or how we generally go behind a rock to piss. Even the men in the group go behind a rock to piss. Helga still just takes his she-wee a few yards away and turns his back.

In the evening, he gets us to watch the documentary he’d mentioned on the journey up. It’s on a small laptop screen, subtitled in English; we strain to read the captions. The adventurous scenery sections are thrilling and beautiful. The interspersed discussion of his life and his transition are not. In equal measure tawdry and uncomfortable, a string of family and friends pop up in well-worn talking-heads format to offer support, astonishment, bewilderment, praise, to a stirring stock-music soundtrack. It’s all very Lifestyle Channel.

“Do they think we also laugh alone at salad?”

I tick off my day-one assumptions as they are confirmed, one by one. Yep, there’s the bald patch. There’s the poor ex-wife, love-bombed into a quick marriage and then gaslit as he resumed his teenage obsessive crossdressing habit. The secret meetings with other crossdressing men. The eventual divorce, leaving her to raise their child—seems that his fantasies of womanhood didn’t include the boring babysitting parts. He was quite handsome as a man. No weird pout in those older shots. Onscreen, he complains bitterly about an extremely mild “misgendering” incident, and swears he will leave the country.

He wasn’t harassed in the incident, he wasn’t discriminated against, he wasn’t obstructed. He was merely observed to be male, and that was enough to provoke a tearful meltdown. As if we weren’t already walking on eggshells enough, monitoring our own language to avoid naming the obvious fact that we could all see! The sight of this burly man having an onscreen tantrum at his inability to control others’ perceptions… it was a reason to tread even more carefully.

Claire and I go to gather firewood; away from the group and out of earshot, she makes tentative reference to how strange this all is. I sense a proto-terf, let rip a full stream of gender-critical invective, and the relief is glorious. It’s like a touchstone for reality. She’s already been having her doubts about the ideology, and can recognize odd compulsive behavior from having a diagnosed OCD family member; we compare notes on the weirdness of the trip, and reassure each other that we are not imagining it, that our discomfort is merited, that this is really not normal. It was the trans widow in the documentary that really did it for her; we both feel for that poor woman.

Having a woman ally makes it so much more bearable, but also throws a harsh light on how we’re being used to validate the fetish of this penis-obsessed man. We vow to ditch the rest of the group as soon as we’re able and try to salvage some joy from this bizarre situation we’re currently trapped in.

“We’re being used to validate the fetish of this penis-obsessed man.”

On the final day, Claire and I manage to wangle a shortcut, and beat the group back to town by a few hours. In clean clothes at last, we find a restaurant, fill our faces with pizza and wine, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. We spot Helga through the window, driving the minibus to a fast food place over the road, and we hide behind the curtains, peering at him through a gap, hoping he won’t spot us. Is he just getting hotdogs for the rest of the group again? No, he’s getting a kebab for himself, because he just seems to subsist on junk food and energy drinks. Where are the others? We don’t care. More wine please!

We befriend the waiter and a German documentary maker at the next table, and regale them with tales of how utterly strange our last few days have been. There are no taxis to take us back to the lodge, so the waiter flags down some boy-racer mates of his in a passing car, who give us a lift. They have a tampon dangling from the rear-view mirror. We stumble back to our rooms, still laughing.

The journey back to the capital is uneventful. Helga greets an old acquaintance at a gas station, and makes a point of telling us how they had previously met—apparently he had told her that he used to be a man (apropos of nothing?), and she had been ever so surprised, much to his delight. Cool story, bro. Just a couple more hours and we never have to hear about your penis ever again. At least this is one holiday where going home is less of a wrench than a relief.

Back home, I’m still walking on those eggshells. My friends hear a heavily redacted version of the tale, where Helga is merely a creepy bloke and an incompetent tour guide. The power of pronouns becomes very apparent—consider the vastly different threat perceptions between “she kept talking about her genitals” and “he kept talking about his.” My friends are in the “be kind” camp, and would have attempted the mental gymnastics to frame this as a strange but harmless woman.

“But what did he say about his penis, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, just finding excuses to mention it all the time…”

I think about how we feminists are popularly assumed to hate trans people, to treat them far worse than we would “cis” men. And yet here I am, playing down my deeply uncomfortable experience, hiding Helga’s trans status in my anecdotes, and watching an entire tour group allow him to get away with dangerously unprofessional behavior on that basis. Even when I wrote a complaint to the company, the penis-talk was only a footnote beside his other incompetencies, rather than the front-and-centre issue it would have been from a regular man.

I think about Grace Lavery, about Owen Hurcum—these men who spend a vastly disproportionate time talking about their parts. I think about the power dynamic, of how Helga used us as a captive audience to talk about and demonstrate his castration fetish, ostentatiously brandishing that she-wee. I think about Jackie, cosying up to the man with the power and pretending to validate his delusions to gain a share of that status for herself. I think about the pall this cast on my first holiday since a year and a half of lockdowns. But mostly I think about how Claire and I escaped, our drunken pizza escapades, and the joy of making a female-only space to laugh about the whole ridiculous business.

4W provides paid writing work for over 50 women in countries spanning the globe. This work is made possible thanks to your support on Patreon.

I think I would rather live through an episode of “These Woods are Haunted” than this. Cheap shots aside how many articles like this have to be written before gender cult allies accept that people don’t hit peak trans because J K Rowling said sex is real. We hit peak trans because we see this behavior in trans people in person and the community doesn’t want to acknowledge that they have a problem from within.

#scandinavia #there are man like monsters in the woods #Peak trans

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