Wait I’m not done with Turning Red, still on my bullshit.

This particular critic, THIS ONE HERE

Has the AUDACITY TO-

*sigh*

Do you know, when I got my first? When I was NINE. Crying sobbing mess on the toilet freaking out because something was wrong with my body I wasn’t prepared for, I thought I was DYING. And did my parents give me the talk? No. Never. Not the period talk, not the sex talk, nothing that had to do with reproductive organs, EVER. Just handed me a comically surplus sized box of pads and told me to figure it out.

When you live in a society where parents refuse to acknowledge things like where babies come from, and you have scholar adults taking science books away from kids because their friends won’t stop giggling at the diagrams of private parts (I’m still salty about that, that was my Christmas gift you *ssholes) a film like Turning Red kicks down doors and makes you face something that shouldn’t still be considered “age sensitive” in this year of the Lord 2022, my god

Puberty wasn’t kind to Raa

She has the face only a mother could love

And I love her so much

Snoke: Take off your mask

Ben: Starts crying

Snoke: What now?

Ben: You told me take off my mask

Snoke: I know

Ben: I did. I am a sad lonely boy under my big ass ego and evilness..

Hux: Puberty gets the best of us.

(Whispers) For example your skin.

Ben:giggles

Sex Fact: As breasts begin to develop, they may develop at different rates. It is common for them to even out by the age of 20, but it is not always the case. It is normal to have two different sized breasts or nipples. (Source)

Everyone’s genitals are a little different — yours are unique to you. Penises can be big or small, thick or thin, long or short, straight or with a little curve. Vulvas and labias can be big or small. Some people have wide vaginal openings, others have smaller ones. Genitals come in many different skin colors and tones, from dark brown to purple to tan to light pink, with many different textures, as well as types and amounts of pubic hair. 

 It may take time to feel confident about your genitals, but remembering that you’re “normal” and unique is the best way to feel comfortable in your own skin. Try talking with a parent or another adult you trust about your feelings: it might be awkward or scary at first to bring it up, but they can give you support and love as you get to know your body. 

-Attia at Planned Parenthood

If you had to write an owner’s manual for Jr. High students about their bodies, puberty, and reproductive equipment what would be included?

natforprez:

• Don’t even worry that your body doesn’t look just like that woman on that magazine. Her body isn’t even real, yours is.
  
• Just because you’re “not like other girls” doesn’t make you better than them (by the way, I KNOW you’re just saying that for guys to like you, I know because I used to say that). And of course you’re not like other girls, and they’re not like you either. Everyone is different somehow.
• Life does get better (because middle school is trash for everyone)
• It’s okay to like things that are different from what other people might like
• Stand up for yourself, 
  “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” 
                     - Eleanor Roosevelt
• You’re going to drift away from some of your friends that you have right now, but that’s okay, because you’ll make new ones really fast.
• You don’t need straight As to be successful 
  
• Speaking of straight, you might not be, and that’s ok

My masterlist is at the end of my bio.

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three, but no TRH)
Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Lykel
Word Count: 3,617 (sorry!)

Triggers for references to puberty, menarche, description of menstrual cramps, dysfunctional mother/daughter relationship. And language! This is about puberty so it’s NSFW, but there’s no smut. Just eduational talks about sex and descriptions about what happens when you grow up.

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. Rinda, Henry, Évelyne, and Mr. Artiti with all of their quirks are all mine.

Thank you @burnsoslowand @bobasheebaby for validating what Bastien and Drake would think of when they needed to tame the beast. @sirbeepsalot thanks for still reading!

Sorry this got so long. My son is becoming a young man, and the mom in me is sad that my little boy is growing up, but I’m also so proud of the young man he’s becoming. Also, it’s true that you fall in love with your partner even more when you see how good they are with your children. My husband is such a strong role model for our son, and I am the luckiest woman in the world. However, some of my own puberty experiences did come through when I was writing about Rinda and her parents!

Drabble Summary: Henry is becoming a young man, and this makes Rinda reflect on her childhood, her marriage with Jameson, and her marriage/family with Bastien, Henry, and Évelyne.

*“Gopa” is the Lykel family’s way of shortening “Geleibter Opa.” It’s German for “beloved grandpa.”

Do It Better

Rinda always wished her parents did things better than they did. Any important event in her life, and somehow they managed to screw it up. When she and Jameson got engaged, Rinda was so excited that she insisted they stop by her parents’ house as a surprise to tell them in person. The fact that they randomly showed up should have been a clue that either something was wrong, or something was very, very right. However, before they could say anything her mother immediately began talking about something—Rinda couldn’t even remember what—and the happy couple couldn’t even get a word in edgewise to announce their news.

When Jameson and Rinda found out they were pregnant with Henry they called ahead to ask to come over. Rinda’s mother said yes, even though Rinda’s father had gone to bed early. He yelled “Congratulations!” from the bedroom but didn’t bother to get up. Jameson saw that look in Rinda’s eyes, the defeated look that he knew so well, and he quickly cut the visit short. He comforted her the entire way home, making sure to hit a drive thru for chocolate malts with extra whipped cream, as she cried because her parents ruined everything important to her. Again.

But Rinda was used to it. Ever since she was a child. But she and Jameson promised each other that they’d do better with Henry. They’d cherish those moments and celebrate each milestone appropriately. And now, she and Bastien would do the same thing.

… . .

Henry was 13, and he was becoming more private about things. Showering every day and using deodorant. Trying to secretly wash his sheets more often. Rinda saw the soft peach fuzz that was growing under his lip. And when Rinda accidently caught him changing clothes, she saw more of his body’s changes. He had pubic hair! But she quickly turned away before Henry knew she was there, and she said nothing. She didn’t want to embarrass him, even though everything in her wanted to cry and scream because her little boy was becoming a man.

Bastien and Rinda knew Henry would be humiliated if they deliberately pointed out any of these changes, but Rinda still wanted to do something, anything, to acknowledge that Henry was becoming a young man. And Henry’s Bonk didn’t disappoint.

He and Drake took Henry on a week-long vacation in Lythikos. No particular reason, except that Henry was a teenager now and it was time they all did a real guy’s trip. They went camping and fishing. They spent time on archery, self-defense drills, and shooting contests. Plus there was other important guy stuff. They practiced peeing their names onto the ground, held burping contests, and dropped ass near the campfire to see if their farts would catch fire.

Throughout the week Bastien and Drake would casually drop words of advice. Sometimes guys got an erection for no reason. Or sometimes it happened if they thought a guy or girl was really attractive. It was all totally normal. When it happened to him, Bastien would go through security scenarios in his head to help it go away. Drake would recite different types of fish or brands of whiskey to himself. Henry said he knew the first 100 digits of Pi, and Bonk and Drake thought that running through those numbers in his head would be perfect.

Henry was done talking about it, but Drake wanted to give a little more advice. Cold showers helped too. But if you were in public, there were also certain ways you could casually rearrange yourself or hold something in front of you.

Henry got a mischievous look in his eyes. “Is that why you and Bonk cross your hands in front of yourself whenever you’re working?” Before Drake could protest, Henry stuck his butt in Drake’s face and farted. Drake’s eyes were watering as Bastien gave Henry a high five.

… . .

Mom already talked to Henry about how to help a woman if she had problems during her period, and there were extra feminine products in the bathroom (and soon there would be condoms too), but Bastien and Drake also had other advice that week. No sexting. Ever! And as far as making out and having sex? Wait until you are a lot older. But when you feel you are ready, your partner must be too. “No” ALWAYS means no. A “maybe” or unsure “yes” also ALWAYS means no. That means stop. Recite Pi to yourself if you have to, but take your hands off of her, step back to give both of you space, and STOP.

Henry nodded. He heard people say “consent is sexy,” but Bastien shook his head. “No, Henry. Consent is mandatory.”

Henry already knew about condoms and that you have to use them. Even though Henry was blushing, Drake grabbed a banana and offered to show Henry how to put on a condom. Bastien began gagging from the banana smell, and Henry gave Drake a high five when Bastien ran to the bushes to throw up.

It was too embarrassing for Henry to actually see how to put a condom on a banana, but his Bonk promised to show Henry again—with a cucumber—when he was ready.

But there was more than just using condoms. You have to buy them. No, you. YOU have to be responsible for your own safety, and don’t expect your partner to have to pay for them. Especially if your partner is a woman, because she has to deal with a whole different kind of birth control. If you are in a relationship, ask if you should help pay for her birth control too or ask what you can do to help. Henry knew about some of this from his mom, but when Drake and Bonk explained why it was so important to take care of the other person, he better understood that it was his responsibility as a man to protect his partner.

And even though Henry was still so young, Bastien and Drake gave him a PG-13 version of “Good, Giving, Game.” He could always ask them more questions as he got older.

… . .

When Rinda first got her period, she didn’t tell her parents. Instead, she just used her mom’s oversized tampons, even though they were too big and hurt her to use them. But at least Rinda had been exploring her body and knew where it should go. She knew to take a deep breath to relax, and she wiggled and adjusted her position until the oversized wad of cotton surrounded by an uncomfortable cardboard cylinder was mostly inside her. Then she pushed the applicator, wincing in pain as she struggled to get the tampon further into her vagina.

Key words being “mostly” and “further.” The tampon obviously wasn’t in the correct position, and it hurt to sit down.

The next day Rinda talked to her best friend Becca, and they went to the store together to get smaller tampons with smooth glide plastic applicators. They also got some pads, because sometimes tampons hurt when you have a light flow. Becca’s mom gave the girls money to pay for everything. Even the supplies for Rinda.

A month later Rinda’s mom found out, when Rinda had to go home early from school. Rinda’s face was pale, and it hurt to stand up straight. It even hurt to walk, and she threw up in the parking lot from the pain. Her mother might have thought it was the flu, except there was a tell-tale stain between Rinda’s legs that showed as she bent over.

“Rinda! You got your period! You’re a woman now!”

Her mother didn’t yell it. She screamed it. Outside. In the school parking lot. While starting to cry tears of … reproach? Pride? Embarrassment? Rinda didn’t even know.

She only knew that she already wanted to die from the pain, and now public humiliation sealed the deal.

Rinda just wanted to be safe at home, in her bed. But her mother wanted to stop at the store since she was already out running errands. And they should get more tampons since Rinda needed them too. Her mother shook her head. No wonder she was almost out of tampons. Really. Rinda should have told her sooner.

Her mother kept talking. Rinda should get used to having severe cramps because it ran in the family. But it was usually better once you had a child. She lectured Rinda about how Rinda needed to soak her clothes in cold water so the blood wouldn’t stain. Do that immediately, as soon as they got home. But don’t let her father see them in the bathroom sink. That would be so embarrassing for him to deal with. Oh, and Rinda, you aren’t staining the backseat, are you?

Twelve-year-old Rinda was stretched out in the backseat of the car trying not to cry. If only her mother would shut the fuck up. Rinda would clean the car seat when she felt better. And she’d soak her clothes in the downstairs laundry sink. Geez. After years of fighting with her dad, Rinda thought her mom would stop leaving blood soaked underwear in the main bathroom sink and just soak them downstairs? And maybe her dad would just deal with the fact that shit happens when you’re a woman, and maybe show some empathy for the yuck that women have no control over? Fuck. This would be one more thing that she’d get dragged into when her parents had that monthly fight.

And unless Rinda got knocked up in high school, there was no way she could handle 10 plus years of these kind of cramps before she spit out a baby. And she definitely couldn’t handle 20 more minutes in the back seat of the car while her mom went into the store. Why couldn’t she just drop Rinda off and then go back to get the supplies? Her mother didn’t even need to help her. Rinda could take Midol, get the heating pad, and tuck herself into bed without any help. In fact, she preferred to do it herself. Alone. Unbothered.

Rinda’s mom finally came out of the store, but then she ran into a friend in the parking lot. The car was so hot and Rinda hurt so bad. They weren’t allowed to give her aspirin at school. Maybe her mom bought aspirin or Midol? Rinda reached for the knob to roll down the window, but her arm felt so heavy. Her whole body felt heavy, and it felt like anything that was between her legs was going to just fall out if she had to stand up. And the pain. The pain was a combination of a sharp stabbing and a deep ache as she sat up, yelling to her mom to get her attention, asking if she had any aspirin.

Her mom didn’t hear her. She was too busy talking to her friend. When Rinda yelled louder, her mom rolled her eyes and announced to her friend that Rinda got her period. She was so proud of Rinda, even though she was obviously very moody right now.

Her mom kept talking. It could have been a few more minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Rinda couldn’t find a comfortable position, no matter how hard she tried. On her knees. On her back, knees to her chest. Now legs spread for passers-by to stare at her stains. Nothing worked. She needed pain killers, and she needed to be in bed with a heating pad.

Rinda began to sob. She heard stories about dads who took their daughters on a special father-daughter date night to a fancy restaurant. Just the two of them, and the father would open the door for his daughter. Pull out her chair. Begin to treat her like a young lady, modeling some of the behavior she should expect from the young men or women who would soon line up for dates. Some of her friends even got jewelry, like a pair of pearl earrings or a bracelet. Nothing fancy. Just something to acknowledge their daughter’s first step toward becoming a woman.

Hell, even a purity ring at least acknowledged that a girl is becoming a woman, even if it was just a reminder that sex was a sin until marriage. Or an open and closed discussion about sex that left the daughters at the mercy of friends to find out about how sex and pregnancy worked. It’s not like Rinda had that kind of relationship with her parents anyways. At least a ring could be a sign that they somewhat cared, even if it was a reminder that she better not fuck up and get knocked up before she was done with school.

Some of the moms gave their daughters a special care package with Midol, raspberry and peppermint tea bags, a heating pad, ice cream, and an expensive chocolate bar. Or they’d do a spa day.

But Rinda? She was stuck in the backseat of the car, praying her mother would shut the fuck up and take her home. But when she got home, her mom would probably tell her dad. That would be the worst. He’d probably make some insensitive joke about things that bleed for days and don’t die. Oh, and he’d end with a comment that she’d better not get knocked up before she became someone’s wife.

… . .

Eventually Rinda got home. She took Motrin and cleaned herself up while her mom called friends and family to share the private news with everyone. Rinda was too exhausted to be humiliated. And when she opened the bag and saw that her mom bought the same tampons—large with the cardboard applicator—she was too defeated to even cry. It didn’t matter that every other woman in the world seemed to know that teenagers need smaller tampons with easy applicators.

Oh, but wait. Her mother did buy something for her. Large, oversized overnight pads that were the size of a diaper. Rinda rolled her eyes. Her mom was probably afraid Rinda would lose her virginity by using a tampon. Although it wouldn’t surprise Rinda if the huge tampons she used already popped her cherry.

She pulled the large sanitary pad out of the package, removed the protective strip from the adhesive, and tried to position the huge pad in her underwear. It was impossibly big and Rinda knew between her waddling with a diaper between her legs and the obvious pad line bulk when she wore pants, it would be obvious when she had her period. And the individual pad packages were too big to discreetly stick up her sleeve or slip  in a pocket when she needed to change it at school. It was clear she would have to get more tampons and liners by herself, using her babysitting money. The health teacher already scolded Rinda for asking so often. “Rinda Derossiers.” This was followed by a loud sigh. “You need to be responsible and be prepared. You have to carry your own sanitary products at all times, because your cycle is going to be irregular for awhile.” Rinda’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she hung her head in shame as the teacher continued to berate her. It wasn’t that Rinda forgot. It’s just that she didn’t have access to anything age appropriate. Not before Becca’s mom helped her buy supplies, and not now, because her mom was clueless about what to buy and Rinda was too embarrassed to say anything.

When Rinda woke up later that evening she shuffled into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. She felt better, but there was still a dull ache and it hurt to move. Her dad followed her into the kitchen and was about to hug her, but then he suddenly pulled back and stared at her awkwardly. Rinda crossed her arms over her quickly, overly budding chest and self-consciously crossed her right leg in front of her left in case she had a stain that he could see. Her dad knew Rinda wouldn’t make eye contact with him or say anything, so finally he spoke. “So, cramps suck, huh?”

Rinda just nodded. It was her dad’s awkward way of acknowledging that she was growing up and he was trying to showing empathy for what she now had to deal with. It was far from perfect, but she’d take it.

… . .

It was Grandma Lorinda who did everything right. She took Rinda shopping to buy boxes and boxes of small tampons, liners, and regular-sized pads that she could take home. She had winked at Rinda. “Just slip the boxes under your bed. It seems like a lot, but they go faster than you’d think. And you can always call me when we need to buy more.” She also bought Rinda a nice “grown up” dress before they stopped for giant ice cream sundaes at the end of the day. The next week, Grandma Lorinda took Rinda out for high tea at a fancy restaurant in Milwaukee. Then they went to the ballet. It was Rinda’s first time doing any of that, and it was one of the most special days of her life.

But she still secretly wished her father had done something special to celebrate with her. To help her feel like a daughter who should now be cherished as a young woman and not a child. Even a day where the two of them went fishing, where he would hand Rinda her first beer to drink with him. Anything. Because he was the parent who truly cared, even though he usually sucked at showing it.

… . .

If she and Jameson had a girl, Rinda knew Jameson would have done it right, even if Rinda needed to coach him a little. Rinda knew that if they had a daughter, Jameson would be wrapped around her little finger and he do everything to show his little girl how much she was loved. And cherished.

But that wasn’t how life turned out.

Instead, Rinda and Bastien had Henry … and Évelyne. Bonk would do anything for his son, but Evelyne definitely had her Papa in knots as he tried to hang the moon for his precious daughter every night.

… . .

Rinda and Évelyne had the house to themselves while Bastien, Drake, and Henry had their guy time. Évelyne wasn’t even two yet, and Rinda wasn’t a “girly girl,” but she still spent the week spoiling her daughter with mother-daughter time.

She sat patiently as Évelyne tried to comb through Rinda’s curls, even though her eyes were tearing from pain. With a little help Évelyne also managed to put some barrettes in her mom’s now frizzed out hair. The result was an extra-special troll doll mess. When Rinda was finished putting Évelyne’s curls into an unruly up-do complete with a purple princess rhinestone tiara, she sent a picture of both of them to Bastien. He quickly responded that he was lucky to have such beautiful girls, and he couldn’t wait to come home to them. Évelyne squealed when Rinda read Papa’s message to both of them. When Évelyne pointed to herself and said “boo-ful,” Rinda’s heart actually ached with her happiness. Évelyne would grow up with the confidence that she never had as a child.    

Évelyne also tried painting her mom’s nails. And fingers. And the table. And then she insisted on painting her own toenails. And toes. And feet. And carpet. Rinda even bought pet-friendly nail polish so Évelyne could try painting Ollie’s claws.

That evening they invited Gopa Ariti* over for a tea party, and they used his Madeline’s fancy tea set. Rinda helped Évelyne get dressed in her favorite yellow princess outfit, complete with a green and pink feathered boa. She was still wearing her tiara, and she insisted on staying barefoot so Gopa could see her pretty toenails.

Gopa made a production of complimenting Évelyne on her pretty dress and sparkly toenails. He was impressed that Évelyne did it all by herself. And Ollie’s nails looked nice too. And he gave Rinda a wink when he told Évelyne that her mom’s hair and nails were pretty too. When it was time for the tea party, Gopa helped Évelyne into her special chair and he showed her how to place her napkin in her lap, chuckling when Évelyne threw it back at him. Rinda helped Évelyne with her fancy tea cup so she wouldn’t break it and hurt herself, and Gopa exaggeratedly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and said “aaaaahhhhh!” every time she took a drink. Évelyne couldn’t stop giggling.

Rinda had never been happier. A husband who loved her and their children more than anything else in this world. Bastien constantly reinforced how much he loved and cherished them, and she knew he would protect them all of them with his life. They also had Uncle Drake and Gopa Ariti, men who were also strong role models and absolute marshmallows at heart. They were also there to spoil Henry and Évelyne, and help them grow up to be good people.

When Évelyne became a woman, Rinda knew Bastien would be heartbroken that his little girl was growing so fast, but she also knew he would do something to celebrate the occasion. Something to show his daughter how much he cherished her and how proud he was of the young woman she was becoming. Rinda knew when the time came, he would do it right.

And he did.


A/N: Gopa is the Lykel family’s way of shortening “Geleibter Opa.” It’s German for “beloved grandpa.”