there is historical precedent for this

I'm still mulling how to write up Teen Wolf 2.12, since my initial reaction was two days and two nights of growling whenever I remembered it and freaking everyone out but Child, who would answer with a bitter grunt if he was in the same room (I don't think Child is telepathic, but I won't say I haven't been pricing a diy Faraday cage for my room, and possibly a helmet of some kind).

Teen Wolf is a milestone in our fanparent/fanchild relationship, in that we are in a non-closed canon watching new eps as they air followed by arguing to the ground everything that happens. At first, I felt a kind of warm satisfaction--this must be what it's like to live with another fangirl!--but then I realized why perhaps my (secret) ambition to one day open a fangirl commune might have drawbacks in that, and maybe this has happened to someone, but in times of high stress (Derek's manpain), time loses meaning when you really want to talk about, well, Derek's manpain.

To start with: this actually happened. However, dialogue is paraphrased.



Three fucking AM in the morning (note: it was dark outside and sometime after eleven but before dawn; I default to three for dramatic purposes), I get woken up with a strange, tingling sensation that I've developed ever since Child first related his ambition to clone me (note: see child tag); sitting up, I stare in horror at dark shape standing in the middle of my room and well, I don't scream, but that's because I've just had confirmation that I was right, something evil is watching me sleep every night, so ages four through now are now experiencing vicarious satisfaction and everyone who ever told me how there is nothing that will get you when you're alone at night in the dark were so fucking wrong. Also, terror.

Then I recognized the particular slump of shoulders and, faintly, the aura of satisfaction, and sighed.

"Child."

"I had a nightmare," he tells me, flipping the lights on and looking surprisingly stoic for having such a heart-pounding terror that he fled to his mommy for comfort; he's also still in yesterday's cargo pants and a superman shirt that is suspiciously unwrinkled. "Why didn't Scott trust Derek?"

One of the many advantages of being a fangirl is we train ourselves to keep the equivalent of near-encyclopedic information on all our fandoms past and present, including major/minor pairings, and character issues. Even sleep, terror, and utter and complete bogglement that this is my life does not overcome that kind of conditioning. Also, we have been co-ranting about this for like, three days, so.

"Are you practicing being a creeper?"

Child looks shifty.

The entire performance art aspect hits me all at once. "Are you practicing being Derek?"

Child looks much shiftier, and I kind of sympathize, because since his BFF went home, there's really no one he can work on his ability to look like a serial killer anymore who will appreciate the work he puts into it (note: when they do it together, it's like having a premonition of America's Most Wanted). When school starts, he'll have his entire Magic: The Gathering circle to help out, but in general, only my niece is around enough for them to practice together well enough to pull off a really unsettling Bonnie and Clyde routine. I'm not saying this is healthy; I'm saying, it's funny as hell.

"I thought you were awake." He waves at the TV, which to be fair is mid-season in Teen Wolf season two, which in my defense I left on because I couldn't be fucked to find the remote control to turn it off before falling asleep.

"But you saw I was asleep," I answered and Child pulled out his future serial killer smile before he starts laughing. And at that moment, I realized what this was, and I'm about to admit something very unparental and very wrong but really hilarious.

A few weeks ago, there was a thing, I was in a bad mood, and also, Child Did Something, don't even remember what it was. I might have--allegedly--circled the house, opened his window as slowly and gratingly as possible, and then stared at him while he was reading until he looked up, saw me and maybe kinda screamed. My niece may or may not have been alerted to coming events and was available to giggle hysterically. I may or may not have actually laughed hard enough to rupture something.

I possibly deserved this.

Child says: "I win."

Then, "So why didn't Scott trust Derek?"*

And as a true son of a fangirl, he kept his priorities in order.

(* For the purposes of this entry, I'm really paraphrasing, because it was actually more a speech. I sent him to bed before he could get too far in, but let's just say his Derek's Manpain Is Very Manpainy, Oh Woe ruminations are pretty recognizable. He actually uses the word manpain. Repeatedly.)





I have had very bad week at work, a shitty month, and this year has so far proven it has no intention of improving.

About sixteen years ago, I was pregnant, had yet to tell my parents, and was varying between a state of denial so strong I'd forget for days what was happening to me and suicidal when I had to think about it. I was cutting myself in my room after work because I was working retail and would see people with babies and I'd get hit with the nightmare that my life had become.

There is a part of me that wants to go back and drag me out of bed and use my powers of time travel to open livejournal and show me the child tag and make me read it, because of all the things I was afraid of, I was most terrified, most horrified, most disgusted by my own utter certainty that I wouldn't love him, that I couldn't. And I would tell me:

--in one year, you will be taping a toy to Child's foot so you can finish your homework on child psychology and realize he's way ahead of the curve on recognizing cause and effect.

--in three years, you will explain the workings of the conspiracy Mulder is fighting against in exhausting detail while he chews on the strings of your sweatshirt.

--in six years, you will watch Child building what appears to be a dirt castle in left field during his t-ball game.

--in nine years, you will attempt to give a sex talk that will require you to later assure him that humans do not build nests or lay eggs.

--in eleven years, Child will tell you how he wants to clone you and the Crocodile Hunter.

--in sixteen years, Child will scare you the fuck to death and you will control yourself until after he's gone before laughing into a pillow.

You may fail at parenting, granted, but loving him was never going to be a problem at all.