#sadly if not the first the second step of this Speech Therapy which ik will devesate me emotionally

[dreadfuldevotee]

Today, I let myself be a bit nerdy and fan-ish and listened to the ep of David Tennant's podcast that he did with Jodie Whittaker just as like, a bit of background noise and cuz I thought they'd be a fun duo (they are).

I was not! expecting to get about 10 minutes in before I had to sit on the floor and Cry a bit because Jodie casually shattered my heart into a million pieces. Not because what she said was sad itself, but it made me realize what I've been doing and the root behind something that's been sitting on my soul for the past couple of years.

I'll give you the cliff notes, cuz leading up to the sentence is like 3 different anecdotes (which is a Mood). but basically, in specific regard to persuing acting but applicable to really anything, not having some backup plan. That you are a cat with 9 lives and you should put everything into that "first life" and go after it while youre energetic and willing. If it fails- well then you tried and you've experienced something but its not the end of the world and can go off and try again with the next "life".

It was just so astounding to me! Its such a simple concept and one I've heard put in similar ways to me when I was applying for acting programs as a highschooler, but the difference is the belief and the kind of cavalier nature of it. Actors will always say "if you can imagine doing anything else go do that". Even when they're telling you it's all or nothing, they're actively trying to psych you out, or act like your world will end. And as the shakey ass, mentally ill teenager I was faltered and got so afraid. But never because I was scared of never working or it not panning out, but just so ashamed of myself- that the Thing that's Missing In Me was the cause of doubt in everyones tone. Was why all the support in my life had that deep under current of "run for the hills, get out while you can".

And so I did. I flaked out on all my acting auditions, broke down in tears infront of my voice teacher and ghosted her, never saw my acting coach again and I switched gears completely to go into costuming. Which, I should say, I do love. Its a genuine passion and anyone whos talked to me- and especially anyone who's seen me in my day to day know that I am a certified Clotheswhore™️. But also I'd go into tech on shows and get so envious, it'd bring me to tears. I'd sob through any show and just listening to cast recordings would put me in such a deep depression. I would day dream about being on the otherside of my fittings, about being the kind of actor that my friends and I thought were the "Good Ones". As much as I loved what I was doing, I was always dreaming of something else.

I think the fact that I loved it so much helped me forget that it wasn't really what I wanted, though. I said to a friend like a week ago! that I had stopped listening to show tunes because it depressed me. Which is just? so sad? I have boxes of playbills that I've collected and gotten signed and going to the theater was something I adored. I made so many friends because I was Such An Annoying Theater Kid on both here and twitter and I think that kid would be so mortified that this thing that I still love brings me such pain right now.

This is kind of a shitty revelation to be having right now tho, because I actually still have a semester left of my degree and school is already hard enough before I'd come to realization that I'm only here in this program because I severely hate myself and was too afraid to do what I actually wanted. It was so heartbreaking to me, because I had this immediate wash of "What have I done? Have I made a horrible mistake? is it all too late, did I squander my time?" Theres something to be said about classical education or just any acting education. Most everything I know is my own personal snobbery and Autistic Affliction, but I dont know what thats worth in reality.

A Lot of this can be summed up in "20 smth feels like life is over if you dont have it figured out by graduation" and ik that's silly and untrue at heart. But I felt it then at 15 the way I do now at 21- That theater is a true love of my life and that I've been in a kind of agony being away from it that I wasnt prepared for.

I dooon't know what that means or what that says about me or even what the fuck to do with this information now that its been beat across my head. The self hate is still there. I still feel a burning shame whenever I become aware of how honest I'm being about myself where other people can see. But I think I'll die unhappy if I never tried. I don't want it to be a casual thing because its never been a casual love for me. I could be so happy sewing in my freetime or only doing it as something to keep bills paid but I would want acting to consume my life. I want to take it seriously and squander all other prospects to keep fueling it.

[parti-pooper]

Would kyman adopt? What would they be like as parents?

Yes, in my mind, they would. I think Kyle would get to an age where he’d just kill for a kid. He’s always loved taking care of others (e.g., Ike, Blanket, Eric fucking Cartman himself) and I feel like he loves the concept of family and all that which it entails: supporting, sharing, sacrificing, and so on. So Kyle would definitely be the first one to suggest adaption. Probably after meeting his god children, Stan’s kids, and holding them in his arms for the first time. After that, something in him would just click, and he’d get really broody. He’d fall into daydreams all the time, while watching kids walking with their parents down the street or parents playing together with their children in the park, and he’d just be smiling so serenely; yet, so sadly. Soon, just watching wouldn’t be good enough. He’d simply have to ask his husband.

Cartman would not be so inclined, I don’t think. He wouldn’t look at children the same way as Kyle, instead seeing them as loud, sticky, whiny brats. That would not be the main reason for his objection, though. It would be something deeper.

By this point, Cartman will have become well aware of all of his mental illnesses and psychological issues, thanks to lots of maturation and therapy sessions. He now knows that he wasn’t your average, adjusted child. He knows that he had a fucked-up parentage, thanks to his dad being absent and his mom being naive, codependent, and incompetent. He knows that he probably doesn’t know what a normal childhood is supposed to be. So when Kyle - the one true love of his life, the person he wants to have all the happiness in the world, the person he wants to give everything to - says he wants a child with him, Cartman would be nothing short of a panic attack.

“I cannot give him this,” he worries. “What kind of a partner am I, if I cannot give him this?” This, so simple, and so complicated, thing is the easiest, hardest gift to give. “And why give it to him at all,” he wonders, “if I will only take it away from him in the end?” Because everything that he touches, turns to ruin. Because he is sick, and wrong, and undeserving. Because how can he protect his child from the world, when he is still so scared of himself? He will only ruin their child, spoil it, break it. And then Kyle will hate him.

He thinks, “If I did not have a normal childhood, how can I give one to our child?” He thinks, “If I did not have a dad, how can I be one to our child?” He thinks, “If I do not give Kyle this, do I even deserve him?”

“You do,” Kyle reassures when his husband, breathless and tearful, tells him all of this. “You can. You will.” He reminds Cartman that he is no longer the child he once was. He reminds him that he is broken, yes, but he is healing. He reminds him that he has always been there with him, no matter what he has ruined, and that he always will. He reminds him of how good he is with Stan’s kids. How he makes them laugh when he throws them into the air, but how he always catches them before they fall, always. He reminds him of loving he is with Kyle himself. How he can make him feel so warm and happy and right, but how he can still call him out on his crap before he can hurt himself or anyone else with it. Yes, he says, there will be hardships, and he will doubtless make mistakes. But Kyle will never hate him, even when he makes the wrong call one day (or every day), and he will help him through those hard times. And he knows Cartman will help him through it, too. Because he is good enough. He is strong enough. He is enough.

“You are enough,” Kyle promises, “so it’s okay to say no. I will always love you, no matter what. So if you don’t want this, then I won’t ask for it again. But don’t you dare think for a minute that you can’t give it, Eric Cartman. You are the most argumentative, arrogant, pig-headed person I have ever met. And that’s exactly why I married you. Because you are feisty, and determined, and ambitious. And I know you can do anything you put your mind to. I know you can stand by my side and rise to any challenge that comes our way. I know you can give me the strength and the drive to carry on. And I know I can give you the same. I believe in us. I believe in you.”

…After thinking it over for a month or so, Cartman finally says yes. Kyle’s always been too good at his gay speeches.

Kyle, of course, hugs him and kisses him and bounces around him like a puppy on caffeine. “Really?! Are you sure?! You really want to?!” Yes, Cartman says, because he can never be unsure when he sees Kyle as happy as that. How can it be wrong, if it makes Kyle’s eyes light up like that, makes him smile like that?

A few more months and a lot of paperwork later, the two finally have their baby.

Cartman likes to joke with the guys that they finally got all that sand out of Kyle’s vagina and, wouldn’t you know it, the baby popped out after! He avoids being smacked upside the head for that comment purely because Kyle’s hands are too full of the baby he’s always holding now. He bundles it everywhere with him, and he’s in a constant good mood for the first two weeks. Until having to wake up at 3am every night to make a bottle for a baby banshee starts getting to him, that is. Then he gets cranky again and snaps at Cartman just for breathing too loud. (And, honestly, Cartman’s pretty relieved about it. He didn’t know how to handle a Kyle that was just that freakishly happy all the time. He’s much happier himself with the grumpy Kyle he knows and loves.)

Cartman takes a while to warm to the baby. Despite Kyle’s inspiring pep-talk he tries to remember, he’s still wary about damaging their precious child. He hates having to hold it. He’s terrified. So much so that if the baby is crying, and he is right there, he will still call for Kyle, who is upstairs or in the next room or out in the back yard, and tell him to come get it. He will only hold the baby when Kyle passes it to him and he has no escape or excuse to refuse. Little does he know, though, that Kyle knows this. And that’s exactly why he keeps pushing the child onto Cartman. His plan works, as Cartman slowly starts to realise that the world doesn’t end when he holds his child. Nothing happens (except maybe he gets a little drooled on). Eventually, Cartman starts picking up their child all on his own. Now when Kyle needs to get up and go somewhere, instead of being forced to ask his husband, “Can you take the baby for a second?”, Cartman will hold his hands out before Kyle has even had to open his mouth and say, “Give ‘em here, I’ll take ‘em.”

Cartman continues to gain confidence like this, usually with some subtle pushes from Kyle, and soon he is able to enjoy the time with their child to the fullest. He wants to play with them all the time. He wants to sing to them. He wants to take them out and put them on his shoulders and show them the world. Suddenly, he can’t wait to be the dad he never had. He wants to play catch on Sundays, and accidentally break their neighbour’s window. He wants to go to every sports day and every talent contest, and be that obnoxious, embarrassing dad who won’t shut the fuck up and stop cheering them on. He wants to teach them to ride their first bike, and make them smile again after they have their first fall. (Kyle has to remind him that their child is still a baby who can’t even walk yet so it is going be a while before he can do any of this.)

As Kyle thought he would be, Cartman is an enthusiastic, creative father. He will dress us as Santa Claus for their child on Christmas Eve (and Kyle will have to call out the fire department when his fat ass gets stuck trying to actually come down their chimney). He will dress up as the Tooth Fairy when their child loses their first tooth (and Kyle will remember their childhood scam and laugh). And when their child is going through a phase where they’re obsessed with being an astronaut, he will hire a rocket from the Mexican Space Program on his child’s birthday to take them to space (and Kyle will call up later and cancel that rocket because there is a limit, Cartman!). Under his regulations, it’s cookies for dinner and ice-cream for dessert, pillow forts and fights all day, and a household ban on bedtimes. (Until Kyle steps in and shakes his head at him, that is. Then Cartman will grow up a bit, help him to make sure the kid does their homework before the next day of school, and help him to get the kid to bed at nineteen hundred hours on the dot… but will maybe still sneak them an extra cookie after dinner.)

Kyle is the similarly devoted yet more grounded dad who is determined to make sure their child actually makes it to eighteen alive, without a prison record, tooth decay, or a bad report card. This means he can be scary, though. He has been known to emit an unholy screech akin to that of his mother before him whenever disobeyed, and by god, he will ground his husband right along with his child if he has to. He gets flustered and uncertain when Cartman points out how much this makes him like Sheila, because he never wants to be so over-bearing. Cartman will reassure him, though, that he’s doing just fine. Because even though Kyle so badly wanted this, Cartman is not the only one who is fucking petrified by parent-hood. Kyle gets worried, too. He’s neurotic by nature. It’s lucky for him Cartman, persuasive as ever, can always talk some sense and fight back into him, though. And Kyle is happy to let loose and have fun sometimes, too. He’ll give the kid his passion for learning about the world (“Nerd!” mocks Cartman, and is hit by Kyle) and for playing competitive sports (“Jock!” jeers Cartman, and is hit once again).

With such powerful and chaotic forces of nature as parents, the child doubtless grows up to be just as formidable, as unyielding and ingenious as their fathers. Despite this strength of character, though, Kyle and Cartman will always see the child as their baby first and foremost, and protect it fiercely. Catch them rocking up to parent-teacher meetings and bringing an absolute storm down upon the poor, unfortunate teacher who dares to suggest that their child is anything less than a gifted intellect, a delightful personality, and, most importantly, downright adorable. They are very smitten fathers. Probably because their child is just as much of a gifted manipulator as the both of them. That’s not to say they aren’t a good kid, though. Kyle and Cartman raise them to be smart, astute, confident, outspoken, and driven, and to always fight for the things and people who matter to them. As parents, they are fair when they can be, but firm when they must be. And, most important, they love their child, and each other, their whole lives long.