neighborhood of make believe

3

Life advice from Mr. Rodgers.
He also rocked those cardigans that his Mom made for him 😊

Visiting the Neighborhood of Make-Believe

Special Collections recently welcomed Courtney Weikle-Mills’ ENGLIT 1635: Children in Pittsburgh. Students had an opportunity to learn about collections that focus on contemporary Pittsburgh cultural organizations and Pittsburgh-based authors.  Curators and Librarians highlighted the Fred E. and Harriet R. Curtis Theatre Collection, the Nietz Old Textbook Collection, and the Elizabeth Nesbitt Children’s Literature Collection and students were asked to submit a Tumblr post about the materials.

If you grew up anywhere between the 1970s and 1990s, odds are you probably have seen Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Filmed in and featuring Pittsburgh often, the show and its host Fred Rogers have a special place in the collective hearts of Pittsburghers. Saved in the University of Pittsburgh’s Special Collections, the interactive book­­­ The Neighborhood of Make-Believe Playtime Puppet Theater (1974) features the kind of imagination that the show encouraged in its child viewers. 

The book features paper puppets of many of the recognizable characters from the TV series, ­­­like King Friday XIII and Henrietta Pussycat, which children are able to punch out and play with. The book also gives much larger paper replicas of the familiar sets from the Neighborhood of Make-Believe so the characters are able to play in their familiar habitat. The inside of the book gives instructions on how cut and press out the characters, and how to prop open the sets for kids to play in their “own ‘Neighborhood of Make-Believe.’” With it’s bright blue castle of King Friday’s, or Daniel Tiger’s clock, the Playtime Puppet Theater book brings the magic of Mister Rogers’ show into the homes of the children who would have bought this, and encouraged them to play and act out imaginative scenarios with these familiar characters. Mister Rogers was able to bring the Neighborhood of Pittsburgh into the homes of children across the nation, and then through this interact book, was able to bring the sort of imagination and play that occurs in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

-Emily Frey, Senior, University of Pittsburgh

Happy Birthday to the late Fred Rogers of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood! 

This was a quick sketch I did during my break at work today. I’ve been on such a Coles Phillips style kick lately. 

Mister Rogers was such a big influence in my life. I grew up in the same city (Pittsburgh) the show was filmed in and felt a great connection with him. I think at some point as a baby, I visited the set of the neighborhood of make believe, but I don’t remember it. Sometimes when I feel anxious, I’ll pull up some clips of his program and immediately feel better.  

I wish this particular neighbor was still around in today’s world. :(  

Originally posted by neighborhoodz

Hi Jim, 


Can you please paint Mr. Rogers in a war-torn post apocalyptic setting, with a blood soaked red sweater and a bloodied Japanese headband resting a katana over his shoulder and giving a friendly smile as he stands over the body of a recently killed Darth Vader. Nearby are corpses of Sauron, Lord Voldemort, and Agent Smith, while a few members of Sesame Street are bowing to him in honor and a torn banner with the words “Welcome to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe” falls above him like the ending of Jurassic Park. 


Thanks,


Mike

When Daniel Tiger comes on Mira screams with joy. They love it. I tried watching today. Ten minutes before going for a walk while we get everything together. And I was reminded that Mister Roger’s Neighborhood had a Neighborhood of Make Believe and for some reason it’s a monarchy and for some reason that was brought into Daniel Tiger and poor Daniel has to play with fucking Prince Wednesday in his chandeliered room and his father the king makes appearances. Ok the songs are usually great and catchy, but what’s up with the monarchy? Get the class struggle into Daniel Tiger. Are you telling me Daniel’s friend Miss Elaina is really into the white monarchs? GTFO.

Steve Rogers: The Party And The Hot Guy Who Saved Me

Originally posted by wojdiz

Title: The Party And The Hot Guy Who Saved Me

Prompt: Steve X Reader where the reader gets dragged to a party with her friend but she doesn’t drink ot smoke, so she sits outside on the porch alone. Steve is out for a walk and sees her and sits with her and she admits that she always feels out of place

Characters: Steve Rogers

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1517

Notes: I tried to make your friend’s gender neutral, for those of you that have a best friend of a certain gender.  Oh, and if you ever feel out of place, please know that I will love you no matter what.  I hope you are having a lovely day!

“Come on, Y/n, live a little!”  Your friend’s breath was rancid in your face as she tugged on your hand, attempting to pull you inside the host’s apartment.  “It will be fun, I promise!”

“I’m really fine staying out here, babe.  Thank you for trying though.”  You tried to wave her off, but her drunken hands still clung onto your arm.  

“Pleaseeeeeee!”  You sighed, knowing that your drunken friend wouldn’t take no for an answer.  Plus, you wanted to make sure that they didn’t make any bad decisions in their state.

“Fine- I’ll go in for five minutes,”  You stood up from your seat on the front footsteps, brushing off your jeans as you did so.  “Tops.”

Your friend giggled excitedly and intertwined your fingers before throwing open the front door, revealing quite a scene.  Bodies of all shapes and sizes, of all genders were grinding against each other in the middle of the room, strange electronic music blasting throughout the apartment.  Those on the outskirts of the room paid little to no attention to the other partygoers, taking turns with the blunts of weed in their hands.  You sighed; this was going to be a long night.

Your friend led you through the front room, not caring that people were actively spilling their drinks on her clothes in the chaos of it all.  You jumped out of the way as one especially drunk man threw up on his partner’s shoes, her screeching ensuing not long afterwards.

“Let’s get some drinks, alright?”  Your friend continued to drag you behind them into the kitchen, heading over to the keg and a pile of red solo cups.  They disorientedly grabbed two cups, letting go of your hand to make their way over to the keg.  You tapped your foot anxiously as they filled the two cups to the brim, warm alcohol sloshing over and down the sides of the cups.

“Here you go Y/n!”

“Thanks,”  You mumbled, “I guess.”

“Now let’s get some action, shall we?”  They grabbed your hand again and led you back into the main room, squeezing through the gaps between dancers on the floor.  They stopped as a guy around your age approached the two of you, offering a hand to your friend.  They quickly chugged down the entire cup before tossing it aside and taking the man’s hand.  

“Sorry, but this one is too gorgeous to pass up.  See you later, Y/n!”  And then your friend was gone.  You rolled your eyes at their random drunken behavior, taking a sip of the drink in your hand.  You quickly spit it out (and onto the person next to you) as you realized just how bad the drink was.  

Grossed out, you quickly pushed through the bodies to one of the walls where there were less people.  However, your glee of getting out of the tangle of limbs was short lived as the stench of smoke reached your nostrils.  Your nose automatically wrinkled in disgust, and you continued past the druggies right to the door.  You threw it open and jumped out of the apartment as fast as physically possible, nearly tripping on the front steps in your haste.  

Trudging down the concrete steps, your alcohol-drenched shoes sloshing under you.  You sighed knowing that it would take days to air them out after washing them thoroughly.  In the worst case scenario, which was looking pretty likely at the moment, was that you would have to buy a new pair of shoes.  Which sucked, because you totally didn’t have the spare money to spend on another pair of shoes.

You gently slammed your head against the metal railing of the steps, groaning as you realized that you would have to be the responsible friend and make sure that your friend got home okay.  Meaning that you would have to wait for them to be done partying first.  Banging your head against the cool metal seemed pretty good night about now.

“Rough night?”

You didn’t bother looking up at whoever was talking, knowing that they were probably a douchebag looking to get laid.

“Please, could you guys just buzz off?”  Feet suddenly appeared in your vision.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but are you alright?”

Your head swung up, surprised to hear such kind words.  Surely you were hearing things; there just weren’t enough nice people in this neighborhood to make you believe that this was happening.

Your eyes met a concerned sea blue pair of a beautiful man.  “Are you for real right now?”

“Yeah, I am.  Are you alright?”

“I guess.”

He gestured to the space beside her and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning if he could take a seat.  “May I?”

“It would be a pleasure.”  You scooted over further into the railing, making some room for your guest.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”  You smiled softly at the stranger’s politeness, happy that you weren’t vulnerably alone anymore.

“Thank you.”  You nodded to him, “So what brings you to this side of town?”

“This street is on my jogging route.”

“Ah,”  You made a sound of understanding.  “So you were taking a late night jog or something?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I’d hate to break it to you, but this isn’t necessarily the best section of town to walk in.”  You looked him up and down, observing his strong muscles.  “Not that anyone would give you a problem.  I mean, look at you!”  You playfully poked him, making him chuckle.

“I think the real question is what is a woman like you doing in this section of town at this time of night?”

You jerked your thumb behind you, pointing to the loud apartment.  “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m partying my life away.”

“You don’t seem like the type of gal to be spending your night like that,”  You raised your eyebrows at his statement.  Sure, you didn’t usually party, but there was nothing wrong with people who enjoyed it.  Live and let live was your motto, after all.  “I mean, I just meant that, I didn’t mean that, ugh.”  He buried his head in his hands embarrassedly, which was quite a sight.

“Hey, it’s okay man.  I know what you meant.”

He sighed in relief.  “Sorry about that.”

Chuckling, you replied, “You’re very smooth with the ladies, you know that?”

He let out a laugh beside you, one that was music to your ears.  “Yeah, I guess I’m not very good at that.”

“It’s all good,”  You assured, “I’m not good at a lot of things either.”

“Pfft,”  He surprisingly made a sound of disbelief.  “I’m sure you’re great.”

“Not really,”  You sighed, thinking about how you never quite fit in.  All you wanted to do was be like your friends, but for some reason you just couldn’t get into the partying and the drinking and the drugs.  “I’m not very good at fitting in.”

He raised his eyebrows yet again, surprise etched onto his face.  You looked like a normal person, lovely in your own way.  He didn’t know why you would say such a thing about yourself.  “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you mean?”

“It’s just,”  You sighed, looking away from the man.  “I’ve never been quite the same as everyone else.  I was never much of a partier, and I was never really into alcohol and drugs and all that.  I’ve always been a bit different than everyone else.”

In his head, Steve’s mind was reeling.  How could you say such a thing?  You seemed like a perfectly fine person, and a lovely human being, and he was blown away that someone such as yourself could feel that way.  He may not have been very caught up with today’s day and age, but he guessed that self-esteem hadn’t gotten much better since he was around.

Suddenly, you were looking at your hands like they were the most interesting things in the world.  “Hey,”  He said, cautiously laying on of his palms on your hands, enclosing them with the other.  “You seem like a great person.  I’m sure you’re great no matter what you are into.”

You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him; he was such a great person.  “You are so sweet, you know that?”

His cheeks immediately went red; he was not used to pretty people people like yourself complimenting him about anything other than his heroics.  This was a nice change.  “Thanks,”  He mumbled.

Your grin didn’t lessen; you thought you must have looked like a fool smiling like that.  Yet you couldn’t quite wipe that stupid smile off of your face.  “Anytime.”

“So,”  He said, trying to shake off his flattered feeling.  “Why were you here if you don’t like all this?”

“I came with a friend.  I think I’m going to have to walk them home when they’re done.”

“That’s nice of you,”  He did always like kind, compassionate people.  “I could walk you both home, if you’d like.  After all, you did say no one would dare bother me on the streets!”

“Yeah,”  You chuckled softly, “I’d like that.”

Mr. Rogers

How stupid is this….I just stumbled across some “Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood” toys, recognized the characters, setting, whole concept basically, as a rip off of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood of Make-Believe and felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.  I really felt like crying about this :(

After looking up more about this new neighborhood I understand that it is NOT really a rip off and that Mr. Rogers would be pleased (at least that is what the wiki article makes it sound like.  I haven’t actually seen any episodes).

Is it weird that this upset me so much?

Challenge: Grown Up
User: ishouldbeanimated
Rating: mildly nsfw
Summary: It all starts when Haru is seven years old and plays make-believe with Makoto.

7.

When Makoto convinces him to play make-believe, he is always a merman.  Usually, Makoto is a sailor who has been thrown overboard or a swimmer who has been carried away by the sea’s current.  It is always Haru’s duty to save him and it is one he takes very seriously.

Sometimes he fights off an evil sea monster and Makoto clutches the back of his shirt if they are on land or hangs on his shoulders if they are in the pool.  Sometimes he has to save Makoto from a treacherous land-dweller who tries to capture Haru by holding Makoto captive.   The story changes, but they always win against the villain and they always live happily ever after.

Haru does a lot of rescuing and fighting when they play make-believe and it takes more energy than he’d usually expend, but he kind of likes their games.  Of course, he’d never admit it, but he likes watching Makoto’s green eyes light up when he’s coming up with new ideas for their imaginary selves.  He doesn’t even mind when Makoto calls him “Haru-chan” during their games.  He enjoys playing make-believe with his best friend and the way it makes Makoto’s smile that much brighter.  It’s fun.

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               Adrien couldn’t have been happier when Madame Bustier announced they would be watching movies in class. It may have been an exercise to compare Perault’s original fairy tales with the modern, television and film interpretations but for Adrien, it was a chance to rest. The previous night had been busy with not one, but two akuma attacks. Fortunately, it had been so late, most people were not wandering around the Parisian streets; unfortunately, it meant he had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep (a fact Plagg would not stop complaining about until he received a full camembert wheel). For the miraculous holder of bad luck, he seemed to be having a lucky streak; Nino was out sick meaning the one person who could see through his professional make up covering his dark circles wouldn’t be bothering him about his lack of sleep.

               At least I can relax a little before Chemistry.

               “Marinette, girl, you need to get more sleep.”

               Adrien opened his eyes and turned slightly to the two girls sitting behind him. Alya was leaning in towards Marinette who was doing her best to cover her mouth. Adrien couldn’t help but smile a little at her failed attempt as she let out a big yawn, causing a few of their classmates to giggle. She quickly lowered her hand and pulled at her pigtails, unusually lopsided today.

               “I told you, Alya. I couldn’t sleep.”

               “Must have been that akuma in your neighborhood. I heard it was making water pipes explode. I can’t believe I missed it!”

               Adrien raised his eyebrows in surprise. Of course, how had he not realized the Dupain-Cheng bakery was just a few blocks from the last attack. It had been a loud villain too, a man furious about the rejection of his plans to change Paris’ sewage getting revenge. It made sense why Marinette hadn’t been able to sleep with the Arg-eaux-naut (even he thought that pun was lame) on the loose.

               There was a sudden clearing of the throat and Adrien turned back around to see Madame Bustier by his desk, looking up at the two friends behind him. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Miss Cesaire, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

               Alya waved her hands apologetically. “Desolèe, Madame.”

               Their teacher stood up with a small shake of her head. “I have a meeting with Principal Damocles, but your substitute shouldn’t be long.” She frowned looking over the class. “Can I trust you all to pay attention in class?”

               Her gaze lingered on Kim and Alex and she gave them a short, stern glare. Both teens nodded vigorously. Madame Bustier unpaused the movie and left the room. Adrien was surprised when the classroom didn’t erupt in chaos. He chuckled to himself; it seemed fairy tales calmed even older children.

               “Ugh I just want to sleep-“

               There was the sound of something hitting the desk and suddenly, Adrien felt himself splashed by water. His cat-like reflexes had him sliding to the other side bench as Marinette’s water bottle spilled over where he had just been sitting. The rest of the class watched wide-eyed as Marinette’s face turned bright red even in the dark.

               “A-Adrien. I’m sorry. I didn’t wet to mean to-“ She buried her face in the desk as Alya patted her shoulder.

               Adrien shook his arms, the white button shirt he wore on top of his t-shirt sticking to his arm uncomfortably. Hestood up and took out a napkin from his bag, patting her arm so blue eyes met his. “It’s okay. Happens all the time.”

               “You always get drenched by klutzes?” Chloe called out with a laugh.

               Adrien gave her a quick glare before turning back to a now groaning Marinette. “Really, it just hit the top shirt.” He took it off. “No harm done.” His t-shirt seemed to have survived the surprise tsunami.

               Marinette muttered something, rubbing her eyes before dashing out of the classroom with her empty bottle in hand.

               “Sorry, Adrien, she’s pretty exhausted.” Alya said with an apologetic smile. “Someone needs to give that girl a sleeping pill.”

               He nodded. The class seemed to resume to normalcy, people taking advantage to sleep, taking notes, or just enjoying the movie. Adrien finished mopping the bench and slid a bit farther towards where Nino usually sat in front of Alya, just to be safe.

               Minutes passed before the door opened again and Marinette stumbled back into the room, yawning, navigating towards her seat. No one else seemed to notice that she moved with her eyes closed, almost sleep-walking, at least, not until she slid onto the bench next to Adrien. She quickly placed her head on Adrien’s shoulder and yawned, leaning slightly on Adrien. “Alya, wake me up before the substitute arrives?”

               “Sure thing.” Alya whispered from behind Adrien. If Marinette noticed the voice from a different part of the room, she made no mention of it. The poor girl clearly thought her best friend was beside her.

Adrien turned his head as much as he could to see Alya giggling to herself.

Sneaky, she probably wants to see if I can get flustered.

It seemed his classmates wanted to see if he could always keep his cool; joke was on them, he had years of training keeping his face in a passive tone. Yet, for the first time, he felt a little unsteady. This was the first time someone used him as a pillow. Should he say something? Would that be rude? She was knocked out, already snoring lightly, her hair tickling his cheek.

“Stupid akuma,” she muttered, burying her face against Adrien’s neck.

Adrien felt himself blush; had Marinette always been this adorable? He figured there was no harm in letting her sleep. She seemed to be the perfect height for him to rest his own head, so he leaned his on hers, closing his eyes a little, feeling at peace.

Adrien wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before Alya muttered, “Aw, Marinette, aren’t you precious?” A flash of a camera phone pierced his closed eyelids and Adrien managed to open his eyes.

Marinette groaned and swatted Adrien’s arm with surprising force before resting her hands on his leg. “Shut up, Alya. Let me sleep or I’ll spam your Ladyblog with dumb Chat puns.”

Adrien couldn’t help it and he let out a small laugh. Who knew stumbling, stuttering Marinette liked Chat Noir’s jokes?

Marinette’s eyes immediately snapped open. She looked up at Adrien with surprise. The seconds ticked by and he gave her a small smile and waved with his other hand. She looked so dumbfounded, wide-eyed, that Adrien felt another blush rise; he let out a bashful chuckle. “So… a stupid akuma, huh?”

Marinette looked terrified and Adrien quickly added. “It’s okay. Ladybug took care of it. It won’t bother you again.” He placed a hand on hers. She looked down and seemed to realize she had been leaning her hand on his leg and she squealed, quickly standing up and almost twirling back to her seat. She didn’t seem any less scared.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Maybe he had been too forward. Did friends take each other’s hands? Had she been trying to forget the akuma? He really needed Nino’s help to navigate this friendship thing. He turned back to his seat in time for the substitute teacher to walk in.

A few minutes later, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned slightly to see Marinette leaning over slightly. She didn’t meet his eyes but he heard her squeak out a “Thank you.” She pushed a napkin towards him.

When he opened it, Adrien found a small macaron with the Dupain-Cheng logo on it. He turned back and flashed her a smile, “Anytime.”

Marinette quickly leaned back into her seat and stared at the screen, tapping her fingers on the desk nervously. She didn’t notice Alya give Adrien a double thumbs up. Adrien beamed.