From db93ddd0a7042f086464a6498bd079e4c535d43d Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sat, 6 Jan 2024 13:35:10 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/motes/006.html | 40 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ writing/post-self/motes/index.html | 8 +++--- 2 files changed, 44 insertions(+), 4 deletions(-) create mode 100644 writing/post-self/motes/006.html diff --git a/writing/post-self/motes/006.html b/writing/post-self/motes/006.html new file mode 100644 index 000000000..9b0639991 --- /dev/null +++ b/writing/post-self/motes/006.html @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ + + + + Zk | 006 + + + + + + +
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Zk | 006

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Motes had, at one point, started to play.

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That is how time’s inevitable arrow works, after all, is it not? There was a time when Motes was not, when she had not yet existed, and then there was a point at which she began, and from then on, she existed. Her presence was in the world, and it was undeniable. There were witnesses. There were knock-on effects. She undeniably was.

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And so, there was a time at which she did not play, did not surround herself with play, did not define herself by it, and then there was a point at which she began to play. It was a starting point. It was an inflection point, at which she collided with the idea of play and her trajectory was changed.

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And yet, even before that, before Motes, before the System, before getting lost, Michelle had played, had she not? She had been a kid, yes? The Michelle, even before getting her implants and becoming Sasha, had been five, had been six and seven and eight.

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Michelle played as well. She painted, too, back then.

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Roly-poly Michelle Hadje, 263 years ago, sitting in kindergarten, shitty paintbrush in her hand, shitty tempera paint in a dish set before a shitty piece of off-white construction paper. She sat their in her silly little corduroy pants and silly little flower-print blouse, a silly little smile on her face, painting a robin in primary red and deep-dark black.

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Silly, roly-poly Michelle Hadje in her dirt-brown corduroys splotched with a patch of red from having sat down directly in a puddle of paint. It was not a drip so easily wiped away but well and truly ground into the ridged fabric of her trousers.

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“Oh! Miss Hadje! Michelle, Michelle, Michelle!” her teacher had tutted. Miss Willard always looked as though she regretted that she was not able to scruff children, to lift them off the ground and give them a good shake, or perhaps to rub their noses in the messes they made like some naughty pooch. “Your mother will be so upset, won’t she?”

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And Michelle cried. She cried because — people-pleaser her — she wanted nothing other than to be a good girl. She wanted her teacher to like her. She wanted her mother to love her. She wanted to be good and to never risk that love, and here she was, being told that she had done wrong, that her mother would be upset!

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It was all so silly! She was a kid! She was five and a half! Of course she was going to get messy. Of course there would be paint on her hands, and so why should there not also be paint on her pants? She was a kid and she was clumsy and a mess like that was just a part of her life.

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Her mother had picked her sobbing daughter up from school, and after much cajoling, much reassuring her that she would not abandon her, would not leave her by the side of the road to be picked up by…who exactly? She reassured her that the paint stain was fine, and that she would have a chat with Miss Willard. When your daughter’s neurodivergence presents itself in anxiety, perhaps you get used to reassuring her that you love her, and when you are mother, perhaps you never tire of doing so.

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Page generated on 2024-01-06

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  • B: Sasha speaks — Motes gets fucked (and fucked up); talks with Sasha about what happened.
  • C: Warmth speaks — Visiting Warmth and Rye; The Warmth/Motes Dynamic™; discussing the nature of being an outcast (viz both Dear being a shit as well as Hammered Silver cutting off part of the ninth).
  • D: Slow Hours speaks — Motes has a nightmare; Motes joins Beholden and A Finger Pointing to calm down; talks with Slow Hours about dreams.
    • -
  • E: A letter from Hammered Silver — The letter; going for a walk as big Motes; staying that way for a week; pulled aside by Beholden to talk about it; A Finger Pointing is out.
    • -
  • D’: …
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  • E: A letter from Hammered Silver — The letter; going for a walk as big Motes; staying that way for a week; pulled aside by Beholden to talk about it; A Finger Pointing is out for Some Reason; talking with Sarah.
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  • D’: Flashback to the past — The origins of Motes told; some anecdotes (including Slow Hours’s prophecy).
  • C’: A Finger Pointing and Hammered Silver — A Finger Pointing gets a letter, too; discussing what to do about it; risk assessment with Waking World and Sasha; message to Hammered Silver.
    • -
  • B’: …
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  • B’: Hunting for a new way forward — Big Motes tries going small, overflows; is coaxed back to Big Motes to bring her out of it; Big Motes getting back into play; talking with Sarah.
  • A’: Outro — About the future of Motes.