Mar. 31st, 2017

Ha! Oh, that’d be a little hard to take– but I get it. I think people overstate, sometimes, the Power of Instinct, like somehow little kids and animals are so “pure” and can just Know people’s Intentions and all– no way man! Kids are just people, and sometimes people have irrational likes and dislikes. 

Farmbaby goes through phases where I am Persona Non Grata with her, to an extent– she definitely likes Middle-Little better than me, and some of that, I think, is that Middle-Little is around more frequently but less intensively– she lives nearby, so she comes over regularly, but never stays overnight at the house– and also, Middle-Little has way more experience with kids than me, and so more patience and a lot more tricks up her sleeve at getting them to do things they don’t want to. I have to come at it from an adult perspective of “ok, this person doesn’t know manners so that extremely rude thing they did was not meant to be rude, also this person doesn’t know logic so that illogical thing they did was clearly not meant to have the obvious affect that it did, so… where do we go to start over, hang on–” whereas she’s already like “hm, three, I can definitely make this a Tickle Game and distract to re-engage.”

So, my feelings get a little hurt when Middle-Little gets more love than me, or when Only Mommy Will Do, but I also, like you, can be the adult and let Farmbaby just be a person on her own time and come around if she comes around. 

I have a very healthy, I think, family, in this respect– my mother and her brother never really got along, but as adults they had a very measured “well, we just don’t click, so we’ll still hang out but in the company of other people, and if we get on each other’s nerves, we’ll just leave the room and try again later” and I grew up thinking of that as normal– sometimes, people don’t get along, and it’s nothing bad about either of them, so you don’t have to force anything, you just have to use manners. (On his deathbed, my uncle said, of my mother, “We’re from the same city, but it’s like we’ve always lived on different planets,” and a bit later, barely coherent, told her, “You know, I’ve never liked you much, but of course I love you,” which is about the sweetest thing he ever said to her. She got a huge life insurance settlement when he died, and tearfully told us all she’d rather have him back than the money, would rather he’d had the money and spent it on something he wanted; they spent all parties in different rooms, and bickered over trivial things, but he was her only sibling. At his funeral, people my mother didn’t know came up and spoke to her about all kinds of details about her life, and her children’s lives, because my uncle apparently was proud of her and us and spoke of us constantly. She had no idea. People still recognize me as his relative and speak fondly of him; it’s been at least five years since he passed.)

Kids are just people, and they’re pretty much born with all the major features of their personalities, they just have to assemble the owner’s manual. And that includes preferences and the like. It’s wonderful to let them kind of form their own paths to things.

But sometimes you do kind of have to chase them down and pry them off the cat and put shoes onto them regardless of their opinions on the matter. And sometimes they’re possessed shrieking aliens for no goddamn reason and there’s not much you can do about it until they decide to grow the fuck up. 
via replied to your post “Pushing the button on the next Lost Kings update. PSA: if you’ve not…”

Cassian and K2SO antagonistic banter 5ever

i have Miscalculated and now this is all i want to write forever and ever amen

only in the only other story i’m writing that K2 is in, I made him a dog, so he can’t banter

he can be an ass though! he’s doing that. I’ve kind of left off in the middle of a sex scene that K2 keeps interrupting.

I kind of want to do that with the non-AU K2 though. Like… “I know that you are copulating but I thought I should tell you there is a 92.4% chance that–” “NOT NOW KAY” “Well, I mean, it’s not like you’re doing that right anyway, I don’t know why you’re so offended.” “KAY!” “Wait what does he mean we’re not doing it right?” 

Dog!K2 also knocked down a small child and keeps getting used as a bargaining chip in Cassian’s self-destructive breakups, so. I haven’t extrapolated that back around to non-AU-K2.
via replied to your post “Farm Baby was really really really really two this weekend. It was An…”

Every time I read the tag “Baby TURN DOWN FOR WHAT Poe” I reflexively start giggling.

I mean. You know the character. A dude like that was not a laid-back, sweet child.

He was a loved child, for sure. He was certainly raised Right. And we’ve got the expanded canon stuff to show us that his parents were Super Rad.

But there’s no way he was born mannerly. That boy was a goddamn nightmare and a miracle and a blessing and a fucking brat. 

I have a lot of feels about Baby Poe. I bet you he was precocious, sure, and talked early and sang and charmed the fuck out of everyone, was unbearably adorable and bright and clever and precocious.

 But I’m sure he was also excruciatingly sensitive as a tiny thing, fussy and needy and in constant need of attention and reassurance and contact. He probably slept badly and needed elaborate bedtime rituals that didn’t always work, had night terrors and wet the bed and screamed for no reason and wouldn’t fucking go back to sleep. 

He was probably physically precocious, and climbed things he shouldn’t, broke things to see how they worked, destroyed shit just to destroy it, couldn’t be left unattended for a goddamn second, got into goddamn everything, broke shit and ran away and screamed and screamed and screamed and God forbid, if you yelled at him, cried for hours. Couldn’t take a gentle correction, was so fucking sensitive, everything was the end of the fucking world. Couldn’t use the blue cup, the red was his favorite, too bad if it was in the wash, could not be chill, screaming, end of the world every fucking day over goddamn nothing. 

Poe Dameron was never, ever ever chill. He discovered chill sometime after puberty, and now wears it like he’s always had it, but he never had a bare second of chill in his entire fucking life before that. (He is not as chill as he pretends to be. It is a disguise. He is the least chill person ever.)

He was a fucking nightmare of a baby/toddler/child, and yet.
And yet.

He was so bright. He was so quick. He was so loving. He understood things beyond his years, made connections he shouldn’t have been able to. He was funny, from before he could even really talk he had a sense of humor, knew how to charm anybody. And he loved, so much. He was a giant screaming bundle of exposed nerves and love. 

He was like any kid. He was maddening, and he was obnoxious, and he was specifically designed to make everyone crazy.

And he was perfect.

My latest documentary project Sudden Change. It covers the recent Muslim ban and the response in Buffalo, NY.
* the one where I have to guess why you’re calling, and you tell me an aggrieved story about this thing you have that’s wrong, and you just want to know, you know, if there’s some other– well the thing i have, it’s wrong, see, and it’s just– it’s too A, and too B, and too C and why do people even, and I went on this trip with my son– who’s a lawyer, he’s very good with computers too– and we went on this trip, and this object I have, it was just– it was so unsatisfactory– really ruined the whole– and it takes me ten minutes to get you to ask me if there’s some other object that could possibly fill the void in your heart and do the opposite thing from the unsatisfactory object you have. 

Bonus points if you already called our other store and they have it in stock and they’d told you my location might have the accessory pack, which was really what you were calling to ask.

* the one where you call and ask if we perform a standard service, which in fact, we do, but first you have to describe this standard service as if I’ve never heard of it before and nobody in history has ever before wanted such a specific thing (bonus points if you misuse a technical term in a really confusing way so it sounds like you’re talking about something else entirely)– and then you have to tell me at great length about why you want this standard service, which really, is the main thing that we do here– and ask me several questions that are so basic as to be meaningless, and i get that you don’t know that this is literally what we do here, except how did you know to call us except that it says right in the phone book that that’s literally what we do here?– and then at the end you make sure to get my name and tell me what time you’ll be here, like you’re making an appointment, to come to my store, and do the exact thing we do here, except actually I don’t work in the department that does that and I just got the phone because the retail clerk was busy, I work in online sales and you won’t see me, so I’ve told you my name but I’m also going to tell you to ask for Literally Anyone Who Works Here to set you up at the self-serve kiosk that we have for the customers who want the standard service that is in fact the main thing we do here.

These aren’t really don’ts, these are just the phone calls I’ve answered in my first fifteen minutes of work today. 

Bonus round of one I had a couple of weeks ago:

* the one where you call and I pick up the phone and do the standard [businessname], [myname] spkg, c’nhlpu slur that i do mindlessly every time the phone rings, and you say, excuse me? i didn’t get that? and so I repeat the business name in case it was that you weren’t sure you dialed the right number, because you don’t know me from Adam so why the fuck would you really care what my name was, and you say, snippily, I know what I dialed, i would like to know to whom I am speaking, and so I say my name again, slowly, bewildered, because why, do you know me? and you say hm as if that means something (spoiler: we retail workers know what this means. it means that you are the type of person who likes feeling powerful, and so you are going to look for something to be offended by so you can complain to a manager later, there’s literally no other reason to give a fuck what my name is at the beginning of a conversation) and then you begin a meandering story about a standard service we offer and the extremely unique way in which you intend to use it which is exactly like every other person that uses the service, and I have to pause and cough so I say “excuse me” and cough, but you keep talking and I missed something, so I ask, “sorry, you mean, like the thing, the main thing that we do? of course we can help you, we’d be delighted,” and you get huffy and say “well then I’ll take my business elsewhere!” and hang up on me. 
Whut. I mean, the demanding my name at the beginning was a hint it’d go this way, I just expected to have to work harder for it. [Um also good luck taking this elsewhere, I mean, it’s a standard service we offer, but literally nobody else within 100 miles does it. You could call our other location, though, they send it to us to do, but then we wouldn’t have to talk to you so I’d be super down.]

(Asking someone’s name at the end of a conversation, if you didn’t catch it, makes sense if you’ve really discussed something unusual, and want to be able to refer back to the conversation! It’s not unreasonable. I called and spoke to X, you say, and X told me you could take a look at my weird problem, and the clerk knows who X is and one hopes has been forewarned by X that a dude with a weird problem is coming in. Sensible! But you don’t need to say I spoke to X and determined that you do what it says you do in the phone book, please pull her away from whatever else she’s doing to come and wait on me while I fail to attempt to use the self-serve kiosk to do what literally everyone who comes here wants to do!) 

Like. I get that people are people and everyone wants human understanding and such. That’s chill. But the amount of actual fucking therapy people want from goddamn retail clerks is sort of out of hand. 
via replied to your post “sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post “Farm Baby was really…”

i mean we know he canonically destroyed shit for funsies and Curiosity as a child! poe “i put a podracer engine on the koyo picker and burned the fuck out of our entire farm because dad wouldn’t let me, a child, fly my dead mother’s ship directly into a meteor shower” dameron

Ha ha ha ha haaaa I was vaguely aware about this incident, and yes, that’s whence came some of this headcanon. We didn’t honestly get that much in the film, he could have been a goody-two-shoes baby from the film characterization and his insane recklessness could all have been chalked up to desperation, but literally all the supporting materials indicate that no, no he’s just like that, and he’s good with all of his heart but he’s also a reckless nutjob son of a gun who has never actually had a genuine moment of chill in his entire life. 

He’s super good at faking chill. Okay he’s actually not in any way convincing at faking chill. He’s respectful, and people sometimes mistake that for chill. It’s not chill. 

I have a headcanon that Kes probably did a lot of smother-hugs to restrain him as a child, and like, talked him down a lot. Boy we’re just going to sit here for a little bit until we’re all calmed down and then we’re going to try again okay? Okay. Kes also probably did a lot of the holding him until he fell back asleep. 

Shara was probably… not ideally-suited, temperament-wise, to mitigating his total lack of chill, and in our society where she’d be expected to spend a lot of one-on-one time with him, she’d have been miserable. Fortunately she was allowed to raise him properly, and by that I mean, not be the one he touchy-feely-fixated on most of the time, and not be the only one expected to stay up all night with him and then keep up with him by herself all the next day [it drives me insane that I know so many mothers of whom this is expected]. She probably had some guilt that she wasn’t calm and serene like he needed, but Kes and her father had that shit nailed down pretty good; she was golden to amp him up and let him run around a lot, which was the kind of parenting she really wanted to do anyway. She got to be the Fun Parent, and Kes was pretty sanguine about being the boring stick-in-the-mud dad because he was also the one Poe cried out for in his sleep, and Kes was the kind of masochist who found that shit endearing.

But that meant that Poe lost her right when he really needed her, right as he was finally getting enough self-control to really enjoy her company and get a lot out of it, right as he was old enough to have the background knowledge to be able to build upon with her specialized knowledge, right as she really could have begun to relate to him like an adult to an adult. (I still remember getting to this point with my dad, who’d always been great at teaching me stuff, but then finally I was big enough to actually do instead of just be shown, and it was so amazing, and he could talk about really complicated stuff and I had the background reading to know what he meant and really analyze it, and it wasn’t that he hadn’t appreciated me before, but now I could be on the same level as a lot of his friends were, he could talk to me like an adult, sometimes I was more interesting and more up-to-speed than any adult in the room, and it was so great and so amazing.)

And now I’ve made myself sad. 
I allllmost have crocuses, a couple weeks behind schedule. Snowdrops have been going strong, and I’m delighted because I thought the driveway work destroyed them all. Apparently not! :)
being someone who doesn’t watch television or really very many movies is kind of a wild ride on tumblr but eventually you get the hang of just instantly postblocking any gifset you see that refers to a specific date the first time it appears, instead of letting it ride like you usually do with gifsets from shows that don’t mean anything to you because sometimes those get captions that explain them and then you can laugh at the joke or at least know what show it is. but anything that refers to a specific date, just postblock that shit the first time you see it, the entire joke is that that date is today and apparently for some reason that is novel every time. That’s it, that’s the joke, there’s nothing to get. 

the heartbreak of it all, of course, is that on mobile, there is no postblock, so you have to scroll past that shit once for every fucking blog you follow, even if that blog is ostensibly about an unrelated theme, because here’s a fucking ironclad fact about people who post on Tumblr: they are absolutely crazy for a gifset that says what day it is, as referenced by some Popular Culture. Bitches love Popular Culture Gifsets About Today’s Date. It’s an immutable truth. It is universal. It is inexplicable. 

I have a calendar you guys. I know what day it is. I don’t need Daniel Day-Lewis or whoever the fuck this is to comment on it. One thousand times. 

In some tiny corner of my mind I am constantly thankful that the show with the white dude incest got less popular so they stopped doing this every single Tuesday. (Was it Tuesday? I think it was Tuesday. That was the first post I ever PostBlocked! I installed Xkit just for that. And to blacklist Dr. Whom, whatever the fuck that is. [it was a different dude every time but somehow it was all the same. amazing.] [please absolutely do not explain this to me i could not be less interested and still maintain a pulse.])

edited to add: i am a fool. a fool. of course everyone has independently made the same redundant gifset. PostBlock cannot handle this, and since none of them are tagged in any way, neither can BlackList.

enjoy your hopeless scrolling, you arrogant fool. Today is the Nth of X and you are going to be reminded of that at least once by every blog you follow, in a painstakingly-assembled gifset of some actor you can’t identify in a context you’ll never know. Your PostBlock is meaningless here.
via replied to your post “sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post “Farm Baby was really…”

what’s most fascinating about this description to me is that this is exactly how a lot of fandom seems to think Ben Solo was as a child

I haven’t read that widely so this has eluded me– but, well, I know a lot of kids with aspects of this in their personality! I mean, clearly I’ve put this together from real-life kids I know, so this is actually all pretty normal stuff in my experience. So maybe that would be an interesting study– if they were really similar as kids, and how differently they were raised and how that shaped them.

I think giving Ben unusual Force-sensitivity would neatly explain the difference, though, because if you take a kid like that and add something uncanny and hard to explain, especially something that’s intrinsically terrifying, you’re going to put an edge onto all adult interactions with that child. And so you wind up with these two very similar boys of similar ages and somewhat-similar backgrounds, really, although the Dameron-Beys retire to a quiet life while the Organa-Solos clearly do not and that’s important– and then add that in, and you’re going to wind up with quite different results. I wouldn’t find that surprising at all.

(Not that all kids are like this, of course. I know a lot of kids who sleep like rocks from early infancy, who are emotionally robust and not unduly concerned with censure, who manage to balance active play and needing attention with quiet self-directed activities, etcetera.)

I don’t know what the greater fandom community usually headcanons as Poe’s childhood. Most of what I’ve read has just dealt with his trauma at losing his mother, and not much else, so I don’t know if I’m in line with that or not. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with giving Poe a simultaneously happy and difficult childhood prior to losing his mother; difficulty can be idyllic if it’s well-handled.

Ben Organa probably did not have an idyllic difficult childhood though. And you absolutely can make room for bonus Leia angst if she tortures herself that Poe’s difficult childhood turned out so well while her own son’s didn’t and clearly it’s all her fault. If people were into telling angsty stories with a woman protagonist that weren’t just about how terrible the woman is, which seems to be what we do instead. :(

A post shared by Bridget Kelly (@bomberqueen17) on Mar 31, 2017 at 11:22am PDT

If I keep my face real close to this webcam feed of Z’s office window I can pretend that I can see out a window too and am not in a closet where I can’t see the sky.
(The feed’s password protected so bug him if you want to see it, not me.)

I’m surgery’d and in Pain and need cheering up please and thank you

Aw I am stuck on mobile and so have no particular access to any Distraction Materials :( and can’t even leave replies so I am reblogging this like an early-2016-era savage just to say I hope you feel better quick.

A story that the Jews tell each other is that when the slaves were fleeing Egypt they came to the edge of the Red Sea and thought: well, fuck, this is it. Water in front of them and enemies behind. They had escaped, sure, but all this meant was that they were going to die free instead of in chains. A meaningful distinction in an abstract sense, but the Jews are a practical people, and mostly what they were concerned with in that moment was: they would be equally dead either way.

A man stepped out from the group. He stepped into the water. He said: mi chamocha ba’eilim adonai? Who is like you Adonai, among the gods who are worshipped? He sang that verse over and over again. He sang it as he waded into the sea. He gave his body over to his faith as he walked. There was nowhere to go but forward. If he was going to die, he figured, and be equally dead either way, he was not going to die in slavery and he was not going to die at the hands of the Egyptians, either. He was going to die walking and singing, believing, trying to find progress in the chaos, in the waves. 

In the story, the water laps first at his feet, then his knees, his thighs, his ribs, his neck, finally flowing into his mouth as he sings and sings and sings. The words get choked, mispronounced: the hard cha of mi chamocha becomes mi kamoka, strangled but still certain. 

In the story, this man is why the people get their miracle, the waters parting to let them cross through on dry land. It is an act of divine intervention, but it only comes because someone is willing to put his life on the line to make it happen. I keep thinking about him this week, that apocryphal man and how it is a story we make sure to keep telling each other: when there is water in front of you and enemies behind, you do not wait for your god, or a sign. You trust in something larger than yourself and open your mouth to sing about it. You put your feet on the ground and walk forward. 
well we were maybe going to go out to a show tonight but when i asked dude yesterday if he wanted to and said it was totally up to him i’d do whatever, he was noncommittal, and i’ve done the dishes and defrosted the prep stuff for dinner but he’s still napping, so I’m going to assume he’s not interested in going to this show, and go do my exercise bike / spanish practice. 

i’m spicing it up by drinking mezcal, because i poured myself some to go with the dishes.

(i am doing a thought exercise where if he wants something he has to ask for it. when we first started dating in 2002 he said ‘i don’t do passive-aggressive hint bullshit so if you want something you have to ask for it’, so i have tied myself in knots to try to ask for things, including actually asking him to marry me, and he mostly says no to stuff [like that, boy that stung], so that’s really hard for me, and fairly recently i was reflecting and honestly if he wants something i’m almost always left to my own devices to figure it out, and most of the decisions in the household wind up weirdly being my call, and i have to do a *lot* of guessing what he wants, so i pointed that out and it didn’t go over great, but i’m sticking to my guns. these are mostly minor concerns, but it remains somewhat annoying. i have, by the way, told him about this thought exercise, because he ‘doesn’t do passive aggressive hint bullshit’, and he still doesn’t seem to have really caught on to the whole deal even though i laid it out for him, so. we might go to mexico in june, but only if he actually wants to, and admits as much. Bro I have anhedonia, have had for years now I honestly don’t give a fuck whether anything happens, we could go to mexico or you could punch me in the face and i’d probably feel approximately the same kind of way about either option because nothing feels like anything and I’m trying to live my life despite that, and it exhausts me down to the bone to be called upon to muster all of the enthusiasm for every decision.)

so anyway. mezcal and weird 70s bbc telenovelas, here i come; i abandon all further worry about the course of this evening.
via want you like a seatbelt - belugas - Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) [Archive of Our Own]:


“After all, you’re the pilot. You should probably be…” she gestured sweepingly toward the control panel. “Piloting.”

Bodhi groaned, then leaned forward to look her in the eye. “Fuck you, Erso.”

Jyn grinned. “Please.”



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