#IN A JANE AUSTEN STORY I NEED TO REPEAT THAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

12.7% of mobile users access Tumblr.

#IN A JANE AUSTEN STORY I NEED TO REPEAT THAT

iamthenightcolormeblack · 2 years

Text

A Crackhead Spills Wine On Jane Austen: Persuasion 2022 Extended Rant

I am SEETHING and FILLED WITH RAGE as I write this semi-analytical rant. It got so many things wrong and Jane Austen would definitely be rolling in her grave right now.

A note on the title: the director’s name is Carrie Cracknell, and she wanted to “modernize” Jane Austen and remove its “weeping, sickly women” while creating “something she could watch with her daughter.” Obviously she’s crazy. Austen never needed modernization and it’s been done so many times at this point. Stop trying to pretend to be original! Plus this movie promotes unhealthy alcohol habits! We don’t want our strong young girls and women to mope around in bed getting dangerously drunk with wine bottles!Thus I think the director’s real name is *drum roll… Carrie Crackhead!

Now I shall list the many sins of this stinking trash heap:

The dialogue has not only been modernized- it’s trying too hard to be funny and changes rather than reflects the original meaning of Austen’s dialogue. Also so many anachronisms like playlists (was that even a thing before music recording technology was invented), self-care, and 5 and 10 ratings of people.

Anne is now a snarky “girl boss” who hates everyone and talks to the camera when not chugging wine or crying in a bathtub. Also why did they have to stick with that terrible rom-com trope of a drunk, emotionally unstable single woman looking for love? That’s not very feminist to me. In the book Anne is outwardly reserved and acts that way in large part because her family ignores or belittles her. She quietly acquiesces to their demands and only slowly learns to speak for herself. Actual Anne is a wallflower who gradually becomes more beautiful as she takes charge of her own destiny by choosing not to be persuaded by others.

Anne lacks manners. Her first meeting with Wentworth in 8 years consists of her throwing a rock at a window to catch his attention and yelling at him. Afterwards she trips and spills gravy/red sauce on her head. All while she is babysitting a child. In the book Anne’s decision to take care of her injured nephew while his parents partied is selfless; here her selflessness is negated for cheap laughs. Nor do I understand why Anne chooses to mock Wentworth by donning a jam mustache and basket hat. She was crying over him earlier and his reappearance caused her pain. Another instance is at a dinner party when Anne drunkenly admits to Wentworth that Mr. Musgrove proposed to her first - so out of character and even a 21st century person wouldn’t do this. To further insult Austen and Anne Elliot, this Anne pees behind a tree while eavesdropping on Wentworth and Louisa.

Wentworth is a Bland Man (Saturday Night Live reference - a Bachelor dating show parody skit features a boring man whom the women are obsessively dating). In this movie he reminds me of a piece of cardboard. He has a rather monotone voice and says little.

A key moment in the book is when Wentworth removes a child who climbs onto an overwhelmed Anne’s back. In the book, Anne is left to care for the Musgrove children, as their parents are neglectful. Wentworth lifting the child off Anne’s back is significant as a sign that he still cares for her even after she broke his heart, and Anne loves him because he truly cares about her, in contrast to her family who takes her for granted and uses her as free labor. In the movie Wentworth removes the child from Anne’s back while Anne and the children are HAVING FUN playing a game. This undercuts the meaning of Wentworth’s gesture. Instead of an act of kindness, it becomes a hindrance to the fun and games Anne and the Musgrove children are playing. HOW DARE THEY take away this beautiful little moment from us.

Louisa and Anne are friends in this movie. This doesn’t make sense since Louisa in the book is rather naive, making Wentworth’s flirtation of her illogical and an insult to Anne. Also Louisa’s view of men as idiots is too anachronistic for the Regency setting of this movie. Anne also seems to be on friendly terms with the Musgroves, which does not make sense for book Anne. In contrast, Anne is actually lonely and has few friends, making her situation all the more tragic.

Anne is often alone with Wentworth unchaperoned. I don’t think this makes sense since Regency England definitely had very conservative social norms. Bridgerton may have been more historically accurate since it made clear that unmarried men and women being alone outside of socially approved situations would lead to damaged reputations. I thought I would never live to see the day that Bridgerton would be more historically accurate than a Jane Austen adaptation. Also Wentworth telling Anne early on that he wants her in his life removes a lot of the tension underlying their relationship.

There is a lack of chemistry between Wentworth and Anne. Sure they look pretty when they kiss on a grassy field but I want to see them interacting like best friends or be treated to some silent yearning where a glance conveys a thousand words. At the end of the day I can’t see this couple together. Mr. Elliot and Anne had more chemistry and more natural banter than Wentworth and Anne.

Telling us Anne’s character attributes instead of showing them in action. Wentworth tells Anne she’s good in an emergency but the situation that proves this (Anne calmly calling for a doctor after Louisa falls while Wentworth and the others freak out) is given very little screen time. The rule is SHOW NOT TELL.

The octopus dream. It doesn’t even pass as Austen and I don’t think Anne would dare or even bother to say something that stupid to entertain Lady Dalrymple. This makes more sense in a Beatles album: “I am the egg man, I am the egg man, I am the walrus, coo-coo-coo-coo-coo-choo.”

Anne has a conversation with Captain Benwick in which they discuss the importance of loyalty in a romantic relationship. Benwick reminds Anne that history books claim that women are inconstant in their affections, while Anne responds that the history books were written by men and that women are more loyal because they have little in their sheltered lives compared with men. This point about who writes about history is so MODERN AND AHEAD OF ITS TIME. Even today we are still struggling to come up with ways to effectively include marginalized perspectives into historical narratives. I saw the 1995 Persuasion adaptation before reading the book and watching this on screen blew me away and encouraged me to read the book so I’m so disappointed this isn’t in the film.

Anne’s friend Mrs. Smith is removed. Mrs. Smith is an impoverished widow left destitute by her husband and is key to Anne’s discovery of Mr. Elliot’s deception. Anne’s friendship with Mrs. Smith is a rebellion against her family’s obsession with social status and reflects her values in action.

Lady Russell is now a happy widow who likes traveling by herself. First Lady Russell is very proper, logical and considerate of what is best for Anne and her family; she is also one of Anne’s few friends. She isn’t “single and thriving.” Also travel in the early 19th century was cumbersome and women likely didn’t travel by themselves.

Anne running for a long time to catch up to Wentworth looks to me like an imitation of the 2007 BBC Persuasion’s “Bath Marathon.” Also that cheesy pop song (Quietly Yours by “Birdie?”) isn’t necessary. They’re happy. We get that already.

Historically inaccurate (and ugly) costumes and terrible hair.

Lastly, the only thing good about this dumpster fire of a film was the supporting cast (Henry Golding, Richard E. Grant, and Mia Mckenna-Bruce). They absolutely stole the screen when they were on and accurately portrayed their characters. I particularly like Henry Golding as Mr. Elliot because it nails the Austen trope of charming bad guy. However the costume designer shouldn’t have put him in black because it gives away his evilness far too soon (and lest i forget I don’t think he and Wentworth ever met while in Lyme, unlike what this film portrays).

Ultimately my mother and I (we watched this travesty together) wanted our 1 hour and 50 minutes back. But at least I gained plenty of material for this rant. I wish it was more well-written but why put in the effort for this crappy thing masquerading as art?

#persuasion netflix #netflix persuasion #dakota johnson #cosmo jarvis #henry golding #mia mckenna bruce #richard grant #carrie cracknell #Carrie Crackhead #I hate this movie so much #Jane Austen would be rolling in her grave #persuasion 2022 #fanning the flames #seek and destroy anyone who claims this trash is good #they ruined the story for cheap laughs and edgy pretensions #repeat after me: Carrie Crackhead needs to go to jail/read Jane Austen before making another Jane Austen adaptation #Carrie Crackhead and her accomplices need to be jailed

29 notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 8 months

Note

Had to make an entire account just to tell you this, and I'm sure you've heard it before, but I figure it never hurts to repeat it--what you've done for me as a queer person, specifically with Good Omens, has rewritten my perspective on every piece of media I've ever consumed. When I watched the finale episode, it was about 2 a.m., and I remember being confused as to why I was so shell-shocked, why I couldn't talk about it for weeks afterward, and still can't without my chest tightening like a middle schooler at her first concert. Sure, it's emotional, but so are a lot of stories, and none of them have impacted me in the same way.

The thing is that to my bones, I had this certainty that it would never happen. I've watched/read queer love stories, ones that ended happily and ones that didn't, ones as side plots and ones that are the plot--but if I ever encountered one with actual uncertainty, with the double-meanings and the overemotional turmoil, I thought, "Oh, that's how it's going to be," and I resigned myself to wait for the writers or the actors to say they're TOTALLY together, we just didn't need to be obvious about it. And Good Omens isn't, in the trailers, wholly about a romance. Of course it is, but there's some plot squished in amongst all the romance, so I thought it would be one of those uncertainty-stories, where I'd know and you'd know they love each other but we didn't need to make a big deal about it. I didn't think they'd say it. I certainly didn't think they'd kiss. I watched Crowley stalk up to Aziraphale and grab him by the coat and I still thought, "Nah. Not gonna happen."

The only writers who had ever represented people like me in relationships like mine with any authenticity, who gave value to the drama and the camp, were romance writers. If it wasn't in the romance section, I was resigned to being a side note or a shoo-in, a love INTEREST instead of a love STORY. And I didn't realize how earth-shattering it would be to be, for lack of any suitable word, Jane-Austened like that. Can't speak for all queer people, but I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me and my partner--who still, for the record, cannot do much more than giggle like madmen at gif-sets and plot how to get our other friends to watch it too.

Thank you. That means a lot.

#go2 spoilers

2K notes · View notes

greenthena · 5 months

Text

The Eldritch Ball or Aziraphale's Macabre Danse

I'm a huge sucker for dark classical music (I'm using the term "classical" broadly, not referring to the specific period. Music-y folks, please forgive.) As such, Saint-Saëns's "Danse Macabre" is one of my all time favorite pieces. It's spooky. It's intentionally dissonant. It's even got a jump scare! Like, literally, the perfect piece of music.

youtube

The story behind "Danse Macabre" goes like this: Each Halloween at midnight, Death enters the graveyard with a fiddle. As he plays, the skeletons rise from the ground and dance through the cemetery, resurrected by Death's power and possessed by his instrument.

In S2 E3, the Bentley plays "Danse Macabre" as Aziraphale drives up to Edinburgh. "What do we do? We play classical music that stays classical music." (And the Bentley listens to him! Because the Bentley is an expression of Crowley's subconscious and wants to please him and make him happy...and I'm sure you can find lots of excellent metas to that end. Or maybe you have another theory about why the Bentley is so pliant toward the angel? I'd love to hear it. But that's not what I'm talking about right now. I'm just getting distracted.)

Why is this song so perfect for a bit of subtle foreshadowing and repeated metaphor? So glad you asked. I have reasons. And evidence. Please, peruse my wares.

In the A Plot of this episode, Aziraphale travels to Scotland to visit a pub called The Resurrectionist. (Ya know, like Death? Like how Death resurrects people in the song? Okay, just wanted to really hit that nail into the coffin.) The pub is, of course, named for a certain Mr. (not Dr., he's a surgeon) Dalrymple, whom Crowley and Aziraphale meet in the accompanying flashback minisode entitled (you'll never guess) "The Resurrectionist." The minisode plot involves Crowley and his the angel encountering young Elspeth, a grave robber who, like Death, releases the bodies of the deceased from their earthly bonds of soil and stone. My interpretation is that Elspeth becomes Death incarnate, first in the process of using her instrument (her shovel) to resurrect the dead, and later when she inadvertently brings about the literal death of her partner, Wee Morag. Rather than allow Wee Morag's body to turn to dust in the ground, Elspeth "resurrects" her, selling her body to Dr. Dalrymple (sorry, Mr. Dalrymple, he's a surgeon, not a doctor), who will use Wee Morag's body for research, which will in turn save the lives of countless others by furthering the field of medicine. A form of resurrection, indeed. There's also the plot thread of Crowley and Aziraphale providing Elspeth with a nest egg to escape the cycle of poverty into which she has been born. This, too, is another form of re-birth. Or, say it with me, resurrection. Alright, you're getting it now.

Okay, now I get to delve into the fun stuff. Let's talk about that cotillion ball, shall we? You know, that danse party where Aziraphale persuades all the shopkeepers on Whickber street to attend a Jane Austen-style ball?

I personally refer to this whole fiasco experience as the Eldritch Ball. On the surface, it seems fairly innocent. The shopkeepers need a little bit of encouragement to attend the Whickber Street monthly meeting, but the angel manages to convince everyone to join with the help of some coercion-via-bribery. When they show up, they're transmuted into Austen-esque characters, from their clothes, to their speech patterns, even to some extent, their perception of reality. This is where it starts to get a little uncomfortable if you peel back the layers. Mrs. Sandwich can't talk about what she does for a living, which is a great comedy bit, but also demonstrates that her speech is being significantly censored and altered by an outside force. With the exception of Mr. Brown (hidden agendas here, Neil? I honestly don't know), all the shopkeepers find themselves in new, slightly-period-appropriate garments. What's really weird, though, is that no one notices the changes. When the dancing begins, to the music of Mr. Anderson's piano and an accompanying string quartet (strings...as in violins...as in fiddles. Remember Death's fiddle?), Nina appears to be the only one who realizes that something is off.

Maggie: This is something new.

Nina: This is something completely bonkers. Are we...? Why is everyone talking like they've escaped from Pride and Prejudice?

Maggie: Just getting into the spirit of things, I suppose.

Nina: The spirit of what things? This is meant to be the shopkeeper association monthly meeting.

Maggie: Hmm. Yes. Now that you put it like that...

Nina: Are we dancing?

Maggie: Yes.

Nina: Did you ever learn the steps to this dance?

Maggie: It's just what we do, isn't it?

Nina: No. No, it isn't. This is something mad. This is their [Crowley & Azirapahle's] fault. They're doing this.

Something is definitely mad. One might even say it's macabre. Aziraphale has become Death the Resurrectionist. He has lured the shopkeepers of Whickber Street through a portal (as Death leads his flock from the world of the dead to the world of the living.) Aziraphale's instrument is his clipboard and pen, held almost as one might hold a fiddle and bow, as he invites the various shopkeepers to the monthly meeting. Once they all arrive, he miraculously gives them new clothes (as Death knits together the bones of the dead), and then proceeds to control their bodies and minds, as though they are merely marionettes. They dance and speak in the way Aziraphale imagines, fulfilling his fantasy of a perfect Jane Austen-style ball (quite literally, the Danse Macabre.)

The shopkeepers have become the dead and Aziraphale controls them until the spell is broken--or rather until the window is broken.

To be honest, I don't think Aziraphale is really aware of how much he is able to transfigure his environment, including the humans who happen to be close by. Or, at least, I don't believe he does any of this with ill intent. He's just a bit blind to anything outside his fixation of wooing Crowley, at the moment. As a result, he creates a situation that is profoundly problematic and unnatural. Just like the dead in the graveyard have no agency when Death plays his fiddle, the Whickber Street shopkeepers are possessed by Aziraphale's intricate romantic fantasy and must dance as long as the music plays.

It is, in fact, only when the music stops, that the shopkeepers begin to realize that something is most certainly weird. The diagetic music (Mr. Anderson & Co.) abruptly cuts off when an approaching demon horde tosses a brick through the bookshop window. Now the spell, or in this case, miracle, begins to break down. While the shopkeepers still appear to be somewhat under the influence of Aziraphale's persuasive aura, a few of them glance down at their clothes in confusion and look around the bookshop, as though waking from a dream. And at this point, after a little finagling, Crowley escorts the humans out of the bookshop and out of Aziraphale's Danse Macabre.

Once the demons attack the bookshop Aziraphale's influence on his surroundings really starts to deteriorate. Throughout the season, he's been able to structure and manipulate reality (sometimes with Crowley's help) to suit his needs: protecting Gabriel, altering the Bentley, organizing the Ball, etc. But once the bookshop, his safe space, has been breached, he loses control of the situation. From this point in the narrative, nothing goes according to Aziraphale's plan. Aziraphale wants to protect Jimbriel, but the former archangel insists on giving himself over to the demons. Crowley leaves and Aziraphale has to defend the bookshop on his own, when he'd expected Crowley to come right back and save him. While defending the bookshop, Aziraphale reaches his "last" resort not once, but twice: first allowing Nina and Maggie to use his books (!!!) as weapons and then blowing up his halo in a last ditch effort to fend off the invaders. This was not on the agenda for today!

Things just continue to go downhill from there, Aziraphale losing all control of the situation. And by the time the Final Fifteen wraps up, the angel has lost his bookshop and possibly his most important relationship. By the end of the season, Aziraphale is no longer Death the Resurrectionist, the manipulator and puppeteer. Now the angel has become the puppet, dancing to Heaven's music.

#good omens #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #go metas #good omens meta #danse macabre #camille saint saëns #the bentley #nina and maggie #eldritch ball #elspeth #wee morag #dark music #Youtube

107 notes · View notes

wanderingaldecaldo · 6 months

Text

I'm gonna walk through every doorway, I can't stop I need some time, I need control, I need your love I wanna find out everything I need to know

Had the absolute pleasure of comming @theviridianbunny once again, this time with my corpo loves. Detail closeups and ramblings about writing after the cut.

I looove Val's hair, and the way Bunny drew her curls. Also the cute earrings. 😩

The way she's gazing at him, I can't with it. It's perfect. He's known for some time that he loves her, but once she figured it out for herself...

For my writer friends who like to hear about writing, or I guess anyone who wants some Corpo Val lore, the rest is for you.

The above lyrics are taken from the song that is a contender for a chapter title for the AU story. The narrator of the song claims “I don't live here anymore”, with the implication that they've broken up and he's a changed man, and it feels melancholic. But then the chorus hits, the lyrics above, it suddenly feels hopeful. That he sees a way forward, and willingness to do better to maybe earn their love once more. Now when he repeats “But you'd never recognize me, babe/I don't live here anymore”, it takes on new meaning.

I had a big realization after recently (re)reading Pride and Prejudice that the Corpo Val longfic follows many of the same beats, despite the "fake romance" trope. I hadn't worked out the full endgame yet, so figured I'd wing it once I get there, but the recognition of some of Darcy in Val helped me see a path for her to change so she can be worthy of Mitch. She's not a bad person, at least by Night City standards, just a former corpo-turned-merc who's done questionable things; but certainly not someone he'd leave the family for. So thanks, Jane Austen, for being the GOAT and telling one of the greatest stories ever, and helping me find Val's “redemption” arc.

youtube

42 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 11 months

Note

Hey! I just finished reading Mansfield Park for the first time and *loved it* despite, in spite of all my earlier misgivings about their characters, feeling pretty bad about how things wound up for Henry, Mary, and Maria (no sympathy for Mrs. Norris). I seem to recall that you rather enjoyed Mansfield as well, and since I enjoy hearing other people talk about why they enjoy things, permit me to ask: why Mansfield? What about it grabbed you and gave it pride of place on your blog byline? Feel free to ramble if you so choose.

So excited to hear that Mansfield Park has another fan! It needs them! It needs all the love it can get.

I love that Jane Austen was brave enough not to reform a rake (even thought it makes me sad).

I love that every single scene and every line the characters say reveals so much about them. The characters are so well thought out and described that they feel real. And the narrative is almost entirely driven by their actions.

I love that Fanny Price is beaten down, abused, and scared, but she still manages to stand strong against enormous pressure and opposition.

I love that the Bertrams finally come to appreciate Fanny after years of ignoring her. I love that the novel is mostly a story of people coming to realize Fanny's worth (like Persuasion and Anne).

I love that Fanny Price speaks in poetry.

I love Ch 30 with all my heart. Sometimes I listen to it on repeat...

I also like that it doesn't make me perfectly happy. Edmund is my least favourite hero, I don't like the ending, but that just makes me think about why Jane Austen made those choices. It's so different that in that Fanny doesn't get the perfect fairy tale ending that we might have wanted, but she does get what she wanted.

And I love reading a story from the perspective of someone so different from myself.

#question response #fanny price #mansfield park #appreciation post

41 notes · View notes

vrnvuld · 3 months

Text

Louise Glück, Seizure

Andrea Salvatori, Testone

Mikko Harvey, Wind-Related in the Wheatfield

Jane Austen, Letters

Ruth Awad, In the gloaming, in the roiling night

Anne Sexton, A Self Portrait in Letters

Eden Robinson, Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted

this is like a massive post because this is also our final farnauld playlist that's made of four parts. it's meant to tell their full story <3 can't say we really expect anyone to read through this or even check the songs but if someone wants a really weird playlist, u can listen to it here xx

ACT I: WE JUST PLAY ALONG, COME ON, COME ON

001. TRY TRY TRY --- RACHAEL SAGE. 002. I’M NOT CALLING YOU A LIAR --- FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. 003. COME ON --- WHITE LIES. 004. ON DIRECTING --- TEGAN & SARA. 005. POISON --- VAULTS. 006. EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE --- DENMARK + WINTER. 007. CANDLES --- DAUGHTER. 008. WICKED TEETH --- CIARAN LAVERY. 009. AFFECTION --- AMBER RUN.

this is the part where they get together. they're off-balance. he's playing his own game and she's trying to make everything work together. this is the first time cracks begin to form within the croÿ ranks. this part of the playlist is a mixture of songs that are fairly dark. the most notable lyrics can be found in ' poison ': " we both know you're sweet and blind / palm struck on the floor // won't you let me poison your heart ? ". isa posted this part of the playlist years ago and it's here x.

ACT II: THERE'S HISTORY IN A SCAR

010. PURGE --- ALLIE X. 011. WE USED TO LAUGH / 9 TO 9 --- FLORA CASH. 012. HYENA --- THE EDITORS. 013. LIFFEY --- PILLOW QUEENS. 014. SPIDERS --- THE EDITORS. 015. TIME COMES IN ROSES --- BESS ATWELL. 016. I'M NOT YOURS --- ANGUS & JULIA STONE. 017. PETRICHOR --- KEATON HENSON.

this would be the post-break up era. their numerous conversations and arnauld's relentless bullying. the wounds were raw, incredibly so and arnauld had a need to show her the mistake she had made by cutting him so. fanni on the other hand struggled between feeling proud of her decision and knowing she had let go of more than just a person she loved: it was the opportunity to build a life outside of her family. both of them tormented each other just by existing. it was difficult to hate someone you loved. it was difficult to despise someone you had known so well. the sensitivity eventually made space for some sort of a relationship. they could hold conversations. they could blackmail each other and remind the other how deep their knowledge of the other went. the first two songs most certainly represent fanni and her struggles. in ' purge ' we get the lines: " you went anyway, but all of your chains / and ropes holding me stayed in place " and " every word you told me left such a rancid taste in my mouth / i can't purge you ". we had ' we used to laugh / 9 to 9 " on every edit back in 2019. it was such a perfect song for them at that time. " you said i won't ever leave your side no one else is worth my while no one else is worth my while were you like that all the time ? did you repeat this from 9 to 9 ? never come back never come back you put a hole in and opened up my heart put me down in my darkest dark we used to laugh we used to laugh " then we have the editors songs that got chosen for the darkness. arnauld was doing his best to get fanni to beg for forgiveness. the bitterness was felt constantly. ' liffey ' on the other hand is arnauld's realization that he's not in charge of himself or the situation. he is absolutely ruined and she holds far too much power — it's not just arnauld who knows secrets and ways to manipulate the other, fanni's just as capable !

ACT III: WHEN I LOSE MY HEAD, I LOSE MY SPINE

018. COOL ABOUT IT --- BOYGENIUS. 019. LUCKY FOR YOU --- NOVO AMOR, GIA MARGARET. 020. I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY --- GRACIE ABRAMS. 021. DAYDREAMS --- EXES. 022. SEABED --- NANNA. 023. LATE NIGHT TALKS --- DEPORTEES. 024. HEAVENLY --- CIGARETTES AFTER SEX 025. HOPELESS WANDERER --- MUMFORD & SONS. 026. THAT'S WHEN ( TV ) --- TAYLOR SWIFT.

this part is about their healing journey. when the mind games stopped. when it was just two people. a fairly wholesome part in their story. they had affection for one another and perhaps for the first time they did not have some role to play. it was just friendship ( or at least as platonic a relationship as it could be between these two ). some codependency issues existed, of course. fanni needed a shoulder. arnauld liked being needed by her. ' late night talks ' is possibly the most spot on song in part iii. in it we get: " the phone rings / in the middle of the night / i can tell you're upset / i'm here / and i'm ready to work ". ' seabed ' is incredibly touching too and probably our favourite track. it's a good peek into fanni's fragile state of mind. " and you caught me off guard, and / i was never lonely / but now i'm feeling like an only child / let me sink into you arms / you're the ocean floor / i guess i just needed that ". the songs in this section are vulnerable and beautiful. ' lucky for you ' has a line that made it earn its spot: " and i'm not what i thought i would be without you ".

ACT IV: I'VE OUTGROWN THE PAST

027. I WANT YOU --- MO. 028. YOU'RE SO COOL --- NICOLE DOLLANGANGER. 029. LIGHTS CHANGING COLOR --- STARS. 030. LIVING ROOM, NY --- LAURA STEVENSON. 031. SIGNAL FIRE --- SNOW PATROL. 032. BLOODCLOT / ANDVAKA --- NANNA. 033. CRACK THE SHUTTERS --- SNOW PATROL. 033. SEND FOR ME --- THE NATIONAL. 034. THIS LAND IS MINE --- DIDO. 035. THIS LOVE (TV) --- TAYLOR SWIFT. 036. I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK --- MIYA FOLICK. 037. COSMIC LOVE --- FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. 038. SHALLOWS --- DAUGHTER.

this is the happily-ever-after part because they've been so sad for such a long time. we seriously considered not having them end up together but they deserve each other <3 <3 this section has love songs but we managed to sprinkle a few darker ones too because fanni and arnauld have never been simple and sweet. ' this love ' is probably the stand out song, it seems so fitting ! i mean c'mon: " this love is alive back from the dead / these hands had to let it go free, and / this love came back to me ". not to make things too cheesy though we have ' lights changing color ', which is by no means a negative song but it's more about staying out of one's head and, well, happy ! " when you find that the ones that keep you lifted / love them 'cause they keep you out of your head / they keep you out of your head / they keep you steady ". the songs are quite mellow and sound pretty fragile in a sense, save for a few tracks. the last two songs are more abstract. ' cosmic love ' is possibly one of the most beautiful songs on this playlist and to ever exist. i can see their devotion to each other growing into something blinding. this maybe relates to fanni more, she seems more likely to make love and her life with arnauld the only thing she surrounds herself with. there's just that and nothing else. but... arnauld is not too far from this state. he'll be able to reason with himself and he has his duties, but considering how recklessly he acts all things fanni... " i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map / and knew that somehow i could find my way back / then i heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too / so i stayed in the darkness with you... " the playlist ends with ' shallows ' because it was so serene. serene and hauntingly beautiful. it's a sister-song to ' i will follow you into the dark '. when one parts from this world, will the other come find them when it's time ?

#[ ;; fanni. ]

12 notes · View notes

bryantspeed · 9 months

Text

Season 2 Good Omens spoilers

Long rant incoming

Now that I’ve finished crying I wanna talk about the ending and some gut punch reactions I’ve already seen from other people. A repeated sentiment I’ve seen from Aziraphale and Crowley’s separation after the kiss is that “we don’t need more tragic queer endings” and that Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens suffer from straight writers writing queer love that fails in the end. And there are a few problems I have with those sentiments

The first being, BOTH GOOD OMENS AND OFMD AREN’T FINISHED? Like Neil Gaiman has stated in the past that he and Terry Pratchett envisioned 3 seasons in the TV adaptation of Good Omens, and we have definitely left off on a very interesting note for the third act to pick up from. This is the furthest thing from an ending as we can get.

Second, Season 2 of Good Omens very much shifted away from the idiot plot of Season 1 to truly make it a love story and emphasize that above all else. Hell, both Crowley and Aziraphale both point out romcom tropes that they find attractive and attempt to use them to make Maggie and Nina fall in love! Good Omens may be a self aware romcom, but it would be wrong to say it’s not still a romcom that subscribes to those tropes and utilizes them fully! We are ending the second act on a three act romantic story, and what typically happens then? The romantic leads, despite their mutual attraction and desire, split on ideological grounds and leave each other with regrets heavy on their lips (no matter how powerful a kiss is). Queer love stories do this too! Look at the movie “Bros”, they have this same 3 act structure, as does “But I’m a Cheerleader!” where we are screaming at Graham to please just run away with Megan but she is prioritizing her financial safety and family above her own desires.

Hell's sakes, look at the pinnacle of Romance, the brains behind the 1810 Clerkenwell diamond robbery, Jane Austen! Pride and Prejudice also follows this format where Elizabeth and Darcy are ideologically and emotionally split apart, and it is not until Darcy and Elizabeth grow and change for the better that they come back together in the most romantic scene to ever grace the world! "One word from you will silence me forever. [...] You have bewitched me body and soul". What I am trying to say is, Aziraphale going back to Heaven with Metatron is an extension of that common romance trope, splitting our star crossed demon and the too-trusting angel apart to prepare for the third and final act.

And ya know the funny thing that would have certainly happened even if they ended up together at the end of the second act? They would have been split apart very early into the third act. Stories are born of conflict, no story worth telling is one that culminates in "Nothing bad ever happened and we just watched our two lovebirds go on dates and explore each other's bodies for six hours!" Love stories thrive on setting up conflict, so that the romantic leads can fight and claw and work their way back to each other in a much more satisfying emotional climax than if the sloppy, rushed confession that Crowley gave Aziraphale had worked. Stories where the leads end up together in the middle of the story itself don't tend to end well for them (See Romeo and Juliet, "La La Land," "Titanic," et cetera). That is how you end up creating a romantic tragedy.

Third, while “We want queer stories that don’t end tragically” did have a place in film criticism at one time, and a time fairly recently, I feel that sticking to that now when there are a lot more stories that express queer joy and love (especially if you look beyond just major studios, support indie filmmakers, and support the SAG AFTRA and WGA strikes!!!) limits the kinds of stories we can tell. A genuine benefit of today is that there are a lot of queer stories that we can tell, and I’ve been lucky to read a lot of them. The freedom with which we can create stories about us is breathtaking. I've had the privilege to read many well written queer stories, but I've also had the strange privilege to read poorly written queer stories that I can't fathom how they made it past editing. There’s a fierce joy I carry knowing that there are a plethora of queer stories that I can read now, and that more are being created, good and bad.

My point is, there are so many queer stories to be told, and that are being told, so limiting queer media to “must end happily” is exactly that! Limiting! If we go in to every story with the foreknowledge of a happy ending, well frankly that’d be so boring! I want tragedies! I want fucked up characters not fully resolving their problems and being left in situations arguably worse than where they began!

And while I doubt that's the direction Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett wanted to take their supernatural love story, if Aziraphale and Crowley, despite all their struggles, are tragically separated because of metaphysical forces beyond our wildest imaginings, then that would be something new! It'd be interesting if done right! As painful it would be to not see Aziraphale and Crowley together gallivanting off to Alpha Centauri, I'd much rather see a story that has these sorts of stakes for both the characters and the audience!

Anyway, the reason for this rant is just to say that I'm excited for where Crowley and the new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale go in their final act, and by god will I impatiently wait and see.

PS: to those that I saw dismissing Good Omens' and OFMD's cliffhangers for coming from straight writers, Taika Waititi literally came out as queer, and Neil Gaiman had boycotts on Sandman in the 90's because of his queer characters, and his loving portrayal of Wanda, a trans woman that I will protect will all of my heart.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #ofmd #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #neil you've done it again but I can't keep going through this emotional turmoil #Aziraphale what the fuck #crowley my beloved #I have an English major and I'm not afraid to use it!#Metatron you bitch

20 notes · View notes

annbourbon · 2 months

Text

After reading What is...? by @creativepromptsforwriting (if you haven't read her blog or follow her WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?)

I decided to add some of my notes here too. Because it's on the little things I've been studying every night to get better at writing. So please consider this post as part/collab of "What is...?"

★Please keep in mind that this comes from someone whose first language it's not english, so, what for some might be obvious, for others it is not.

Blurb? is a short promotional description on your book. But can also be used to promote movies and other things.

Needs: Hook + Keywords (define an audience) + keep it short and leave them wanting for more.

* Remember to check for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Nowadays you can use quotes from your book as promo too. Pinterest is your best ally here. Make a bunch of attractive images with a colorful quotes and upload it on your social media! ^♡^

Honestly when it comes to promos you should exploit it all (meaning: create quotes, collage, your cover, promos, etc!) Be your own fan. Create a playlist, ambience, set the mood. Let your own world drag you into the woods, do not resist it.

If you love it, other will love it too.

W.I.P.? Means Work in Progress. So you have yet a lot to do to finish your story. it's okay, it takes time \^♡^/

Pathetic fallacy Vs Personification?

Pathetic fallacy

It's specifically about giving emotions to something non-human (objects, nature, or animals)

Writers use the pathetic fallacy to evoke a specific mood or feeling that usually reflects their own or a character's internal state. While I have seen some detractors of using this technique, think of Emily Brontë novel, Wuthering Heights, or Shakespeare in several of his works like Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Othello, King Lear and Macbeth. Or Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. So study it and use it carefully and you should be fine. Times change but you should write however you want too.

Personification

On the other hand, is giving any human attribute to an object.

Think of The Beauty and the Beast, Alice in Wonderland, and Toy Story as great examples of what personification is.

Atmosphere? is the way an author uses setting, objects, or internal thoughts of characters to create emotion, mood, or experiences for the reader.

For me Mary Shelley with Frankenstein is one of the most accurate examples I can give, but when I think about it, Robinson Crusoe, and Moby Dick, both feel tremendously claustrophobic and desperate to the reader, full of details, the time passes slowly and it's insufferable. Which in theory is not okay because the reader can drop the book but guess what? They're classic because you want to know what happens next. Which brings me to my next point, if you want to know more about the art of writing, you should try the following channels on YT:

Abbie Emmons

She has some interesting videos, but one crazy tip that will change your mind. It actually works. And don't worry, she keeps repeating it over and over so you learn it too. She also offers some courses and several activities like writing together (in case you're trying to write but can't, now you have a date!)

Ellie Dashwood

If you're into social dynamics, subtlety and want to get better writing period stories wether they are romantic or dramas, then she's your best bet. While she doesn't teach you how to write better she does teach you literature and history. And trust me, some of these things can be more than helpful. The way she analyzes and provides for clarification over social situations has made me understand not just Jane Austen but my own time in a different way.

Fiction Beast

This is showing me a lot of literature and making me read classics. Of course it wouldn't work if it wasn't because of Ellie but it's a must! because it does explains a lot.

Ana Neu

I just discovered her and Ellen so I can't say a lot of things but their videos have been really helpful with some of the things I've been working on especially with Fit or Die, so you should check out both of these girls.

Ellen Brock

and of course, he needs no introduction, but if you didn't know, he has several classes posted on his channel which have been helping me tremendously.

Brandon Sanderson

*Disclaimer: They're not paying me for doing promo. I just do this on my own account because I truly admire their work and effort put into it. Plus, I always do this for anyone if I truly admire the way they work. And I believe this is helpful for anyone with hopes of becoming an author. Even if it's just a hobby. Have fun~!

6 notes · View notes

churutu · 4 months

Text

The Science Behind Great Storytelling

(Photo by Pereanu Sebastian on Unsplash)

Why do you write?

There’s probably no easy, straightforward answer to such a question. Some people write to express themselves, some to share their stories or opinions, some to inspire other people, some to educate, some even find it therapeutic. It’s a question that has both no answer and multiple, complex answers, all at once — we all write different things, for different reasons.

Nonetheless, whatever your why might be, there’s a common denominator among them all: As writers and story-tellers, we aim to transform our why into written words, in order to elicit a certain array of feelings and emotions in our readers.

What we write certainly plays a big role here, but in my humble opinion, how we write it is what makes the difference: The way you describe a murder can make the whole scene go from tragedy to comedy; the way the reader feels about a character depends on the words you use while presenting it; different punctuation can give completely different meanings to the same sentence. In other words, by learning how to write you are able to control what your audience feels while reading your work — this is why learning, experimenting, and practicing are crucial steps towards great writing and story-telling.

No surprises here, right? Everyone knows the more you write, the more you learn, and the more you learn, the better you write. It’s the well-known practice makes perfect cycle that has repeated itself throughout history and, paired with talent, has churned out some of the greatest writers of all time.

So, I could tell you to practice everyday, to read more, or to join a writing course. I could also tell you that Jane Austen’s literary style relies on a combination of parody, burlesque, irony, free indirect speech, and a degree of realism. I could tell you how Hemingway stood out from the crowd thanks to his concise, straightforward, and realistic style. If we wanted to get even more technical, I could also tell you that Shakespeare used a metrical pattern consisting of lines of unrhymed iambic pentameter, called blank verse — in short, I could tell you things you’d find in your English literature book, or things you’ve already been told a million times before.

But that’s not what I’m going to do. Instead, I’ll tell you about the science behind our readers’ emotions, the effect our words have on them while reading, and how to make them work for you:

The science

It’s all about neurotransmitters.

Technically speaking, a neurotransmitter is “a chemical substance which is released at the end of a nerve fibre by the arrival of a nerve impulse and, by diffusing across the synapse or junction, effects the transfer of the impulse to another nerve fibre, a muscle fibre, or some other structure.”

In simple English, neurotransmitters are chemical messengers: To keep it simple, all you really need to know is that external stimuli get them fired up, and according to which one is stimulated, a certain chemical is released inside your body, provoking a certain feeling or emotion.

Unfortunately, since there are way too many different kinds of neurotransmitters, we won’t be able to cover them all here. If you are interested in the topic you can grab yourself a copy of Marco Nigrini’s book “The Brain: A User’s Manual” — reading the book, I came to the conclusion that, when it comes to writing and story-telling, there are three main neurotransmitters that we can exploit: Dopamine, Oxytocin, and Endorphins.

The storytelling

It’s still, all about neurotransmitters.

Dopamine

As Nigrini puts it in his book, “dopamine is the superstar of neurotransmitters”. You have most likely heard about it at some point in your life, and for a good reason. Most people know it as the pleasure and reward hormone, because it plays a major role when it comes to experiencing happiness, our well-being and that rewarding feeling we get after doing certain things — take social media for example: Instagram likes, Facebook messages, and Twitter retweets all stimulate the release of dopamine in our brain, which is why they all become so addictive.

For us, as writers and story-tellers, the addictive properties of dopamine are perfect if we want to keep our readers glued to our work. So the logical question now, would be how do we do it?

Suspense and expectation. These two elements alone are enough to flood your readers’ neural highways with dopamine, and get them hooked to your story — creating shorter sentences, revealing vital information that the characters don’t yet know, and building anticipation, are all simple yet effective ways to accomplish this.

Oxytocin

As writers, specially when it comes to fiction, we want our readers to fall in love with our story and our characters, we want them to bond with us and our work — this is where oxytocin steals the spotlight.

To give you an example of what exactly is this neurotransmitter’s role, imagine a mother and her newborn. As we all know, the bond between the two of them is pretty much unbreakable, but why is this? In part, it’s because of oxytocin — while nursing her newborn, oxytocin is released in large amounts, thus creating a sentiment of generosity and trust between the mother and the baby.

For obvious reasons, we can’t rely on nursing our readers, so we have to stick to the next best thing: In order to stimulate the release of oxytocin in our reader’s brain, we need to create empathic characters or narrate touching stories.

Endorphins

Chocolate and sex both release endorphins — this should give you at least a vague idea of the role they play in our body. To clear up what it is they actually do though, just know that, much like dopamine, these neurotransmitters have a massive impact on your feelings of well-being, and this is what we should take advantage of: If we give our readers a more immersive reading experience, while making them feel more at ease, comfortable, and relaxed (which are all effects that endorphins have on our body), chances are they will enjoy whatever it is we put in front of them.

The good news? Stimulating the release of endorphins in our readers is way easier than you’d think — just make them laugh.

Conclusion? As with every other aspect of life, the way we experience reading massively depends on the way our brain perceives and processes information. If we, as writers, are able to understand the mechanism behind it, we can get one step closer to mastering our craft.

So remember, use science and neurotransmitters to your advantage, and develop your writing according to the feelings and emotions you want your story to elicit in your readers.

#science #writing #article #information #people #neurotransmitters #dopamine #oxytocin #creativity #creator #writer #psychology #write #science backed #endorphins #storytelling #story #telling

7 notes · View notes

consistentsquash · 9 months

Text

5 meta recs!

Some meta recs because we have lots of interesting/relevant meta.

1. Fiction Works 1/2: Different Strokes for Different Folks and Fiction Works 2/2: Storytelling, not Teaching or Preaching by @danpuff-ao3

The two posts are totally worth reading/framing on the wall/preserving in The Library of Congress. It's essentially Fandom 101. Also Life 101. But it's something a lot of folks forget. Danni goes incredibly incisive in the two posts. She looks at the basic problems and zooms out to look at what's the real point of creating a story? What are the limits? What does it mean to feel something is problematic? It's a super uncomfortable read because it's talking about things with more clarity/detail than just the normal vague words we are used to seeing on proship posts. Love, love, love these two essays. <3

Right off the bat, I feel the need to clarify that I understand there are portrayals in fiction that can be troublesome, and sensitivity readers are a boon. However, even here there seems to be too firm a hold on what “should be.” This does not take into account that everyone is different.

People accept this in a vague sort of way. “Dave likes football, and Carrie likes soccer.” This goes beyond people having different favorite colors, or different skin tones. We are all born with different bodies, different genes. We are all born into different circumstances, and are raised differently. We are all molded into different people, and have different preferences, and choose different life paths.

What people also fail to take into account is: the world is a big, crazy place. All sorts of things are possible. How probable they are is another question, but “probable” matters less than “possible.”

2. Don't Quit Your Day Job, AI by @squibstress

AI!!!! So I have been following a lot of AI news about how it's going to replace actors, designers and other creative jobs. Also a lot of fandom posts about fanfic/fanart created by AI getting posted on AO3 and also about authors/artists locking their works because AI is using them to improve. Squibstress did an investigation for what I really, really cared about.

So, okay. We know AI is already writing copy and fiction, but the real question, the important question, is: Can it write fanfic?

To find out, your intrepid reporter made an account on ChatGPT and gave the bot two simple fanfiction prompts.

Love, love, love.

[. . .] I use way too many smirks and rolled eyes in my Minerva/Severus fic.

That's how Minerva/Severus works! I need smirks and rolled eyes in my Snagonagall!! Definitely going to stick to Squibstress and Jane Austen for my reading diet for now. Sorry, AI <3

3. Laughing, Crying, Killing Myself by eldritcher

Fandom has like two big problems now. Ok that's really simplifying things. But AI and antis. Eldritcher has a lot of super clear insights about fandom and why some type of cults/mobs happen here. We definitely know this but it's the type of message which is good to repeat a lot. Cult stuff is scary.

So many who came to fandom and similar creative spheres in the last decade have only known belonging in cliques that are one turn away from becoming mobs. They haven't had the chance to explore discomfort in creation that goes against the norms of their clique, because it endangers belonging and often endangers more than merely belonging because of how dependent they are on the validation of the group what with little support available elsewhere outside. It is tempting to think these mobs are only prevalent in circles that are against shipping or slash or kink or anything seen as transgressive by some consensus, but that's harmfully reductive. Ostracisation via pitch-forks are as present in the bastions of those who ship the most transgressive ships as they are in the bastions of those who don't. The mob is a weapon and all factions have learned by now how to weaponise it to vanish those they don't like.

4. Heroes, Villains, and Blorbos by @danpuff-ao3

I kind of gave up on reading convincing Marauder group characterizations in Snape centric fics and convincing Snape characterizations in Marauder centric fics esp with the more recent fanon takes. But omg. I love those characters/potential. Danni's essay really, really goes into the reason why some characterizations don't work for me because she is spot on about identifying what makes those characters tick. Including their flaws. Flawed characters are sexy because they are human. Our fandom really really doesn't get that point about these characters a lot of times.

None of them were perfect. All of them had potential.

So much of their promise died in the war. They were all so damn young, and so deeply impacted. They all made grave mistakes. They all achieved great feats.

But what draws me to them all above all else is the horrible humanity of them. All of their virtues, and especially all of their flaws.

5. What is good writing anyway? by @danpuff-ao3

At this point I'm rambling, but the point is: how can any of us really judge what good writing is? Even if we can, how do we recommend what is "good" in a way that is fair, or in a way that will be well-received? But most of all, I sort of want people to think beyond the popular view of what is "good" because what is "good" doesn't matter so much as how much you enjoy it, and how it touches you and your life.

Really not sorry for triplereccing danni's essays. I read them in a binge this week and that got me inspired to do a meta post. So! Everybody needs to read them because they are really getting at the heart of a lot of fandom things we can identify with. This essay especially was so personal for me because of why I got into reccing. The fics I normally saw recced didn't work for me. Totally not a fault of the fics/recs. But I wanted to rec fics I loved. I feel those fics are definitely worth reccing because they made a big difference to me beyond just good writing by some definition. But also this is a really good read for authors who feel they are not good enough/comparing to other authors/feeling imposter syndrome. The readers that love your fics are really in love with those fics. For those readers your fics are the best fics in the world. Like Danni says because what is "good" doesn't matter so much as how much you enjoy it, and how it touches you and your life.

#hp #fandom #hp fandom meta #recs #hp fandom meta recs

11 notes · View notes

iverna · 2 years

Text

Given The Choice (32/?)

... in which Emma adapts to life among smugglers, Regina struggles with life among outlaws, and Killian shares a bit more of his past.

~ 10,100 words | read on ao3

Post-Neverland AU where Pan did not escape Pandora’s Box and Emma tries to come to grips with her strange new life featuring pirates, parents, and flying monkeys. Catch up here, or on ao3!

Note: due to recent Jason-related events in the fandom, I’ve changed the quartermaster’s name to Wesley Carswell - same guy, different name!

Blackbeard’s attack has had one positive side effect: Killian has proven himself to Ria and the crew, and the lingering tension on the ship has dissipated. Wesley Carswell no longer looks uncomfortable when Emma wanders up on deck, in fact he always has a smile and a teasing comment for her now, and Killian is no longer doing grunt work. He’s often in the company of one or more of the crew or conferring with Ria, sharing experiences. Emma wonders whether he realises how easily he slips into the role of advisor. He did the same in Neverland.

The only problem is that with the new camaraderie come questions. Such as how a lady from the royal court knows so much about sailing.

Lynch is the one who asks, when some of the crew shares a late lunch on deck the day after the attack. From his smile, his interest is entirely benign, but the question catches Emma off-guard. “It’s hardly part of a lady’s education, is it?”

“I—well,” she says, trying not to look flustered, “you know, I actually had a pretty good education…”

Killian laughs. “I don’t think you can count that as education, milady.” All eyes turn to him, and he goes on, “Her husband was an officer in the Royal Navy.”

Emma breathes a small sigh of relief. That sounds good. She vaguely remembers watching a Jane Austen movie once where the guy was a naval officer. An officer and a lady-in-waiting, that makes sense… right?

Janssen’s wife, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Inga, raises her brows. “A Navy man? How’d you end up here?”

With Hook and a band of outlaws, is what she means. Emma shrugs with a smile, back on balance now. “Long story.”

“Was an officer?” Carswell asks.

“Yeah, he, uh, retired,” Emma said. “After he married me. He didn’t want to be away at sea all the time.”

Inga smiles. “And now, here you are. You must miss him.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back and carefully not looking at Killian. “Yeah, I miss my whole family.”

“We’ll get you back there soon enough,” Lynch assures her.

“And I hope your husband appreciates it,” Carswell puts in, mock-stern. “And doesn’t send the Navy after us.”

Emma laughs, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“He’s far too besotted,” Killian puts in. “All he’ll care about is having his beloved wife back.”

She just about manages to hold back the dirty look she wants to throw at him. He’s enjoying this far too much. They need to get off this subject, not keep going on about the non-existent feelings of her non-existent husband.

It doesn’t help that he never looks better than when his eyes are sparkling like that, and she’s been thinking about him far too much lately, instead of thinking of something useful. Like her non-existent husband.

“What was his name again?” Inga asks.

Emma feels her heart trip, and casts around for a name while she says, “Sorry, what?”

“Your husband,” Inga repeats. “What did you say his name was?”

Emma didn’t give a name. She really should have thought of one. She has pretended to be married more than once in her career, but her usual go-to name is Justin. That doesn’t seem very… fairytale.

“Oh. Uh, William. Will.” She almost winces as she says it. This is Henry’s fault, with his talk about Keira Knightley and Pirates of the Caribbean. And she’s blaming Killian, too, for throwing her off her game.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh.” This should be easier; her fake husband is a fairly solid person in her mind. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, devoted or distant depending on the situation, likes dogs and hiking and cuddles on the sofa. The kind of man you marry.

General “you”. Not Emma specifically. Emma specifically finds him a bit boring, which is exactly the point, because it makes him versatile and relatable.

“He’s great,” she says, trying to get into the mindset of a married woman who loves her husband, and struggling for words. “Kind, and… dependable.”

She makes the mistake of glancing over at Ria, then, to find the other woman watching her with a thoughtful look in her eyes. Emma doesn’t let her own gaze linger, but keeps looking around as if unconcerned even as she fights back her chagrin. She isn’t selling this. How the hell do people describe their partner?

“He’s a good man. A good father. Like I said, he retired so he could be there for us.”

“If that isn’t love,” Killian puts in lightly, jokingly. “Giving up the sea in favour of a life at court.”

He says the last word with a dramatic grimace. There’s a round of rueful chuckles, most of the crew shaking their heads as if they would never do such a thing. Emma thinks of the Jolly Roger, and swallows hard.

God, she needs to get them off this subject. “Yeah,” she says, looking at Inga and Janssen again. “Speaking of which, how about you two? How’d you meet?”

It’s the right question to ask. It turns out to be quite the story, which Inga and Janssen are happy to tell, amid the heckling and joking of the crew.

Emma breathes a very careful sigh of relief, and settles in to listen.

* * *

Killian, naturally, doesn’t let it go. When the others are back at work, he wanders over to her, purposely casual. “So, tell me,” he asks in a low voice, a glint in his eye. “Who is William?”

Emma narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t start. You enjoyed that way too much.”

He doesn’t look the least bit contrite. “Guilty as charged. I’m just curious why you chose that name.”

“A character in a movie,” she says, giving in. “Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s—anyway, one of the characters is called William. Will.”

“A movie… a story about pirates?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She can feel herself getting defensive—she doesn’t usually rely on movies for her cover stories, and it definitely won’t do for Killian to start thinking she just has pirates on the brain. “Henry loves it, and he’s been quoting it, and it was the first name that came to mind.”

“Ah.” He gives another short chuckle. “It was my brother’s name, too.”

She feels her eyes widen. “What?”

“Liam,” he says. “Short for William.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t quite know what to say. “I didn’t know that.”

“Aye.” He looks at her more closely then, and seems to note the sudden loss for words, the odd tension. He grins, just a little too brightly. “A good thing you didn’t marry him.”

She thinks she knows the answer, but she asks anyway. “Why?”

But he doesn’t say anything about wanting her for himself. “Because he was stubborn and overbearing. You’d have thrown him out inside a week.”

A surprised laugh escapes her. “Yeah? Was he that bad?

He makes a face, but his expression has lost that exaggerated brightness, more comfortable again. “Aye. The worst. Though I suppose it served him well, to keep me in line.”

She lets her eyes widen in exaggerated astonishment. “You needed keeping in line?”

“All right,” he grumbles, giving her the gentlest little shove. “No need to oversell the amazement, Swan. I was a terror, I fully admit it.”

“Was?”

“Was, am…” One eyebrow pops up. “Will be.”

She bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I bet he had his hands full.”

Killian nods ruefully. “That he did.”

She can see the fondness behind all the irreverence, and she gets it. She never had a brother, but she often wished for one. Or a sister. Just… someone. Family. Someone on her side. From the sounds of it, that’s what Liam was for Killian.

“He sounds like a good guy,” she says softly.

“The best. Liam is the reason why I ended up in the Navy. He got me a commission, helped me with my studies… I owe him everything.” He clears his throat, then flashes another grin. “In fact, now I think about it, you could do worse.”

She wants to know more, but it’s clear that he’s done talking about Liam—and the grin is more genuine this time. The fact that he’s making jokes rather than rebuffing her feels like a victory.

So she goes with it, lightly slapping the back of her hand against his chest. “Stop trying to set me up with your brother. I’m married.”

He laughs, and it’s that genuine laughter that she so rarely gets to see, the laughter that makes his head tilt back and his eyes crinkle. “To poor old Will, aye. My apologies. I seem to keep forgetting.”

She makes a face at the reminder of her performance earlier. “Be honest, how bad was it? I really should’ve—I thought I had it figured out, but—I don’t know. They put me on the spot.”

“It was fine,” he assures her. “Though you might want to work on describing him. That did not sound like a woman in love.”

“I know. I just couldn’t think of anything.”

“Well, not to worry,” he says lightly. “Perhaps you two are simply going through a rough patch.”

She shoots him a narrow-eyed look, making him laugh again. “I’m being quite serious, love. It’s probably what they’ll assume, if you keep calling your husband ‘kind’ and ‘dependable’.”

“What’s wrong with kind and reliable?” she asks, even though she already knows he’s right.

“Because love means passion,” he says, “and caring, and knowing the other person. It’s not kind or perfect, sometimes you want to strangle them, but—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I’m merely pointing out that there’s no passion in dependable. No romance.”

Emma manages a nod, trying desperately not to let on how winded she suddenly feels. Her knees are a little weak. Killian Jones getting passionate about the topic of love and romance might be more than she can handle.

She casts about for a way to get them off the subject, realises that they were originally on a different subject, and reaches for that. “I don’t even know anything about Navy officers. What do they do after they retire?”

“They marry a beautiful woman, apparently.” Killian winks. “Lucky bastard.”

It’s her turn to give him a shove. “You saying that being married to me is a full-time job? Thanks.”

“It might be,” Killian mutters, and she shoves him again, and he laughs. “All right, all right.” He considers it. “Let’s say he made his fortune at sea, and bought a small estate to raise a family.”

“How do you make a fortune at sea?” she asks. “I mean, other than, y’know.”

“My way?” He grins, then sobers. “Much the same way, really. You take it. From pirates, or smugglers, or someone else’s navy.” His voice takes on a cynical note. “It isn’t robbery if it’s endorsed by the king, you know.”

“That’s—” She’s about to say that’s not fair, but then she thinks about it. About her own experience with the justice system, and the foster system, and all kinds of other perfectly legal systems. The bribes she’s witnessed, the deals, the shakedowns. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

He looks surprised at her agreement. “I don’t think a princess—” that last word is so quiet that he’s barely more than mouthing it “—is supposed take that kind of view, love.”

She makes a face. “Think there’s a lot of things I’m not supposed to be doing.”

He grins again, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She should probably roll her eyes, or shove him away again. But she can’t bring herself to do it, not when she’s just learned a bit more about him.

Liam. His brother’s name was Liam, and he was stubborn and loyal and rode herd on his troublemaking little brother.

So she smiles at him, and hopefully he knows everything she means by it when she says, “Good.”

* * *

Regina doesn’t like the castle. For one thing, it isn’t hers; for another, it’s in ruins, and though she’s done a bit to help fix it up, there’s only so much she can do if she doesn’t want to spend all her energy on repairs. Which she doesn’t. Because it’s not hers.

And because without access to her vault and her books, magic is frustratingly difficult. She can summon a fireball no problem, but it’s not like she memorised spells for fixing walls or plumbing. Much as she hates to admit it, she’s never been very good at working without instructions.

Besides, Zelena is out there, and it would be monumentally stupid to spend all her magic on repairing the castle when warding and protecting it is more important.

As she has explained to Grumpy at least twice now, not that it has stopped his snide comments.

Her room is fine, now that she has fixed most of the holes and restored the window panes and cleaned the whole thing, but it’s just that: a room. Everything else is shared, and she doesn’t care for that at all. She can’t just go down to the kitchen when she feels like baking. She can’t seem to go anywhere without running into one of the dwarves or Granny or a Merry Man.

She still doesn’t know why they’re called that. None of them seem very merry to her.

And for all of Snow’s talk about being in this together, Regina is alone more often than not.

It doesn’t bother her. It’s not like she wants to hang out with the dwarves, or Snow and Charming and the sappy looks they give each other, or Blue and her sanctimonious looks, or Robin and his snarky comments and not-so-merry men.

But when she walks in on a group of them sitting around the big table in the hall, playing dice and drinking and laughing, she feels a pang somewhere deep inside.

Because of course they didn’t invite her.

Snow looks up, and Regina can’t tell if she’s feeling guilty or if her smile is always that bright. “Regina! Come join us?”

“Oh, no.” Regina is already backing away. She can see Grumpy glowering at her, Robin frowning, one of his men—John, she thinks—giving her a calm, assessing look. She’s not going to inflict her company on them. She’s not going to sit there awkwardly while they all chat and laugh, at a loss of what to say. She never knows what to say. And she doesn’t want to talk to them anyway. “No, thank you.”

She’s sick of the castle, and everyone in it. She needs to get out—away from the looks and the chatter and the constant reminders that she doesn’t belong. She never belongs. Snow is somehow already fast friends with Robin and his people, just like she’s always friends with everyone. It’s like a kind of magic that Regina can’t access.

She’d blame the villain thing, but Hook managed to befriend them all to the point where Snow and Charming miss him, at least a little. And it’s not that she’s never been invited, either.

No, it’s something about her, specifically. The thought makes her gut twist.

She shakes the feeling off as she strides down the hallway towards the castle entrance. It doesn’t matter. She’s not here to make friends. She doesn’t need friends. What she needs is to get the hell out of this castle.

Her instinct is to head for the stables, but she doesn’t have a horse here. She doesn’t have a horse at all anymore. Her gut twists again as she thinks of Rocinante. Another death—another murder—and for what?

She shakes that thought off, too. So she can’t go for a ride, fine. She can walk. Out in the forest, where it’s quiet, where she can be alone.

She has reached the yard when there are footsteps behind her, and a man calls, “Hey! Your Majesty! Regina!”

She turns. It’s Robin, of course, and he’s frowning at her again. ”Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she snaps.

He raises his eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“Since when do you care?” she challenges.

He stares at her. Then he sighs. “Frankly, I don’t know why I bother. Where are you going?”

“That’s my business,” Regina informs him.

As usual, her unfriendly tone has no noticeable effect on him. “It’s not safe to wander off alone.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she says acidly, “but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re leaving the castle, at least take someone with you,” Robin insists.

“That would defeat the purpose,” she mutters.

“Why? What are you up to?”

The suspicion makes her hackles rise. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She hasn��t done anything except help, in fact. Not that anyone seems to notice. “Nothing. I just want two minutes without someone accusing me of being up to something, or… Look, it’s not like anyone’s even going to miss me, so if you’ll excuse me…” She sweeps past him.

At least, that’s the idea. The effect is ruined when he pivots on his heel and falls into step beside her, and his longer legs mean that she can’t shake him off without breaking into a run. Damn him.

“Maybe they would if you gave them a chance,” Robin says. “Why do you push everyone away all the time?”

“I don’t,” she snarls. “I don’t need to. They stay away all on their own.”

“And you’ve never wondered why that might be?” he asks mildly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

He shrugs. “It means that if you don’t like being alone, you could try being nice.”

She bites back the diatribe about all the times that she tried and it bit her in the ass. “I’m plenty nice,” she bites out, glaring at him.

“Yeah, I can you’re just overflowing with warmth and friendliness,” Robin says drily. “Why wouldn’t anyone want you around?”

To her utter horror, she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. To cover it, she hisses, “Exactly. So I won’t make you endure it.”

And then she calls up her magic—the magic she can access, the magic she has mastered—and whisks herself away into the forest. Long legs or not, he can’t follow that.

Somehow, it doesn’t make her feel any better.

* * *

As the Serena Hawk sails on, Emma finds herself at loose ends once again. Killian is all but an honourary crew member now, and Henry has learned that there are cats aboard the ship, so between trying to befriend them and hanging out with Jim, he has plenty to keep him busy. Which leaves Emma as the only person aboard with nothing to do—other than tidy the cabin and work out, neither of which are activities that take up much of her day.

But she’s the wife of a Navy officer. She can have a little ship expertise. And she did okay helping Lynch during their escape from Blackbeard.

With that in mind, she goes to talk to Carswell.

She finds him hunkered on the deck, discussing something with Janssen who, she has learned, is the ship’s carpenter. Killian is standing nearby, offering the occasional opinion in between his own work.

“Mr. Carswell?” she asks, and the quartermaster turns and looks up at her.

“No, no, none of that. Call me Wes.” He flashes a smile. “Please.”

It’s hard not to glance over at Killian then, given the flirtatious tone of the request, but Emma just smiles back. “All right. Wes. I wanted to ask you something—”

He sits back on his haunches, lifting a hand to shade his eyes against the sunlight. “Ask away, milady.”

“Is there anything I can do? To help? I just feel useless sitting around all day.”

“I thought that’s what fine ladies do.”

She scoffs. “I’m not a lady.” It’s out before she can think better of it, before she can remember who she’s supposed to be. “I’m a lady-in-waiting,” she goes on, recovering. “I’m used to—chores.”

She really hopes he doesn’t ask her what they are.

“Fair enough.” He raises his eyebrows. “Actually, you might be able to give Lynch a hand. Literally. Not a lot he can do at the moment, with the arm and all, but he knows what to do.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Just…” He leans forward a little, dramatically conspiratorial. “Don’t mind him if he tries to put on the charm. Don’t believe a word of it.”

Janssen bursts out laughing. “Yeah, ‘cause she should take advice about that from you.”

“Aye, she should,” Wes says with a grin and a wink aimed at Emma. Beside him, Janssen is shaking his head at her with a grimace.

Emma laughs. “I’ll be careful.”

Lynch, to her slight relief, does not put on the charm. He’s perhaps a few years older than her, a stout, bearded, slightly hawk-nosed man with a straightforward, easy-going manner. He’s the ship’s cook—as well as an expert sailor, as he assures her, but it’s his cooking skills that he’s most concerned about.

“If we don’t do it,” he says mock-grimly, “Aileen or Janssen might, and then we’ll be in for it.”

So Emma once again finds herself fishing off the side of the boat, and gutting fish under Lynch’s direction. It’s nice to have a job to do, even if she’s not the biggest fan of fish. For the first time since she came aboard the Hawk, she doesn’t feel like she’s in the way as she sits on deck while everyone goes about their own tasks.

Killian is nearby, working in the rigging with Janssen. Emma is busy trying to keep her eyes away from him, so she’s staring out at the sea when the ship dips and she catches sight of something out there. A dark, triangular shape is breaking through the surface of the water, not very far from the ship. Even as Emma watches, another two show up nearby.

“Lynch,” she says, trying not to betray the way her heart is suddenly pounding. “Is that—sharks?”

“Hmm?” He looks over, thoroughly unconcerned. “Oh, no. Dolphins.”

“Dolphins?” Emma all but scrambles over to the railing. Another dark fin cuts through the water, then another, but Lynch is right: they aren’t the sharp triangle she remembers from Jaws. Moments later, she catches sight of a sleek grey body emerging from the waves, a fine mist of water as the dolphin exhales. There are at least five of them, moving smoothly through the water as if they’re part of the waves.

“Hey, kid!” she calls over to where Henry is crouched with Jim. “Look! Dolphins!”

Henry scrambles to his feet and takes one hurried step before he seems to remember the “no running” rule, and walks as fast as he can to the railing.

The dolphins have come closer by the time Henry reaches her. One breaks through the water and leaps, and Henry lets out a yelp. “Look!”

Emma feels a smile stretch across her own face. She has never seen dolphins in person before. “I didn’t think they came so close.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lynch says, his tone far less impressed. “They’ll do that. They like the waves we make—and the company.”

As if to illustrate his words, another dolphin leaps out of the water, half-turning as it does to splash back into the waves. “Mom!” Henry exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it, kid,” she assures him.

“They’re saying hello,” comes Killian’s voice from beside her as he joins them. He’s breathing hard from working, his eyes bright, and somehow he seems larger than life in that moment. He has left his coat in the cabin, and while his shirt is so loose that it shouldn’t show off his physique, the way the fabric drapes over his arms is very distracting. Not to mention the way he never buttons the damn thing properly, and the glint of the necklace he wars keeps drawing her eye down to his chest.

He goes on, “And probably hoping you’ll share your catch.”

He’s looking at Emma as he says that last, but she’s lost. Is he calling himself a catch? But he doesn’t look like he normally does when he spouts innuendo at her. “What?”

“The fish,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” That’s right, she’s been fishing. “Yeah, well,” she rallies. “I don’t share.”

He grins at her. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“But what if they’re hungry?” Henry asks.

“They can catch their own fish, trust me,” Lynch assures him. “This lot just wants to play and show off.”

Killian gets back to work, and Emma reluctantly turns her attention back to hers, but Henry stays at the railing, cheering when a dolphin leaps from the water and shouting reports about their antics. When they fall behind, he’s disappointed, but sits down nearby and starts peppering them with questions about dolphins. Emma is almost no help, but for once, she’s almost glad of it, because Killian is. And when he’s answering her kid’s questions, she’s got the perfect excuse to look over at him.

It’s all kinds of appealing, too, him going on about dolphin behaviour while hauling on ropes, muscles flexing under that shirt of his.

Not that she’ll ever, ever, admit that.

“Why’s it called a school?” Henry asks.

Killian lifts his eyebrows. “Where else would they learn how to be dolphins?”

Emma tries her best not to laugh; Henry groans, though he’s smiling. “No, really.”

“I’ve no idea,” Killian says. “It’s simply the term people use. Like a murder of crows, or a gaggle of geese.”

“Oh.” Henry makes a face, presumably at the idiosyncracies of the English language, and falls silent. For a while, the only sound is the wind and the ocean, the creaks of the ship and the now-familiar crackling sound that the ropes make as they stretch, and the occasional comment from Lynch.

After a while, Henry says, “Hey, Killian.”

Killian twists around to look at him. “Hmm?”

Henry is barely holding back a smirk. “Why did everyone forgive the dolphin when he did something wrong?”

Killian looks confused for the briefest moment, before catching on. “Enlighten me.”

Henry’s smirk becomes a full-blown grin. “’Cause he didn’t do it on porpoise!”

Killian rolls his eyes with a good-natured groan as Henry bursts into delighted laughter. Lynch and Emma chuckle, and Henry looks around at them all, so proud of himself for his dumb joke. Emma exchanges a look with Killian, sharing a moment of amused pride.

The silent understanding flares between them, that connection that seems to keep happening where they’re somehow on the same wavelength.

It’s the kind of moment she would—and arguably should—have with Neal. Except Neal would say something, some wisecrack about how Henry gets his terrible sense of humour from her, or how they need to work on his jokes.

Killian just shakes his head, chuckling, and says, “Well played, lad.”

Henry beams with pride. Killian turns back to his work, and so does Emma, silently berating herself. She shouldn’t be comparing him to Neal at all. And she’s not, not really.

It’s just making it clearer to her why those moments with Neal always made her want to pull back, to break that connection before it could break her. The impulse is there with Killian too—it’s there with everyone—but it feels different. It’s habit, not instinct.

Maybe the problem isn’t just with her after all.

Mentally shaking her head at herself, Emma pushes the thoughts away and stabs her knife into a fish.

Gutting the fish they caught is a gross job, but she doesn’t mind. Life at sea, she has found, requires you to change or leave behind any ideas of “gross”. There’s no shower, no mirror, and very little privacy. Her hair is a lost cause; she has braided it back to keep it out of the way and under control in the wind, and she’s doing her best not to think about it. Or how she probably looks in general.

She spent enough time living rough that it doesn’t bother her—or at least, it shouldn’t. It’s familiar. It doesn’t matter.

But she can’t help feeling a little self-conscious at times, especially when Killian’s around.

Which is ridiculous.

If a little grime puts a guy off, she reminds herself firmly, he isn’t worth it anyway.

Besides, since when does she care whether Killian is put off or not?

Since Neverland, a little honest voice at the back of her mind answers.

She scowls at it.

Across the deck, Wes breaks into song. The crew does that on occasion, singing to keep the rhythm as they work on the sails, or simply because they want to. It’s something Emma never thought about; without radios or mp3 players, the only way to have music is to make it yourself.

The one Wes is now belting out is a rowdy song about a young man and his drunken adventures. Various other crew members join in the chorus—and this time, for the first time, that includes Killian.

Emma does her best to take it in stride. He certainly does, still focused on his work as he sings along almost off-handedly. She had no idea he could sing, but he carries the tune well.

He’s got a nice voice for it, too.

For the first time in a long time, Emma wishes that her mother were here. No, not her mother; Mary Margaret, her friend. The first woman Emma met who she could actually talk about boys with—not that she herself did much talking, about anything, but she could have.

Because she would really like to talk to someone about this. This man who explains things to her kid and makes dumb dad jokes and gives up his ship for her and sings drinking songs with a voice like that.

She probably still wouldn’t talk to Snow about it if she were here. But she can’t help wishing that she could.

Wes is still singing; the young man in the song has made his way to the bedroom window of a nobleman’s daughter, and there’s a punchline about her father wondering about the size of his daughter’s boots. Henry wrinkles his nose as Lynch whistles and some of the others laugh. “Why did she get bigger boots?”

“Ah.” Killian abandons the chorus and smirks conspiratorially. “Because they aren’t her boots, they’re the young man’s. But her father is blissfully unaware that he’s in the room with her, you see.”

Emma’s first thought is that things like this are surely lost on a kid Henry’s age; her second is that she should probably have stopped Killian from explaining it.

But Henry’s eyebrows rise, and he says “oh” in a way that makes her realise it’s too late to try and preserve his innocence. He might not know exactly what the young man in the song is up to, but he clearly knows it’s more than just a sleepover.

Regina is not going to be happy. Learning about dolphins is well and good, but learning about this… oh, boy.

Then again, maybe Henry simply recognises the insinuations from everyone’s comments and looks back in Storybrooke. It’s not like Regina herself is exactly blameless in that regard. Maybe she shouldn’t have made so many damn comments about Emma and Killian.

Serves her right.

Wes finishes the song with a flourish, catching Emma’s eye as he does. He grins, winks—and begins another song, which prompts Lynch to bark out a laugh as he recognises it. The cheerful tune belies the words, which tell the story of the prettiest girl in the village who stole and then broke the singer’s heart.

And Wes is singing it to her. That much is obvious, from the way he keeps grinning at her in between pining looks. Emma tries and fails to fight back a blush. Of all the dumb, ridiculous…

Lynch takes the cue—or maybe the challenge—and throws a little drama into his performance as well, batting his eyelashes at her. Even Inga, keeping the rhythm by tapping her foot on the deck, sends her a few dramatically lovelorn looks in between bouts of laughter.

Once Killian realises what’s happening, he gives an amused little laugh—and joins in.

It’s embarrassing. It’s like being in a damn Disney movie. But they’re joking, and having fun with it, and it’s… nice. Even with Killian, there’s none of the lingering heaviness she might have expected during a song about unrequited love. No, he seems to be treating the whole thing as a joke, playing up the drama, and enjoying himself.

And that makes it easier for Emma to give in to the part of herself that isn’t embarrassed, the part of herself that likes having a bunch of people sing to her. Maybe it’s the fairytale part, the one she usually tries to suppress or ignore, idealistic and even romantic and everything life has taught her not to be.

But she’s in fairytale land now, quite literally. And she’s not Emma Swan. She’s a lady from the royal court, who is probably used to this kind of thing.

So she laughs, and shoots Wes and Killian wry looks that make them grin, and blows Inga a kiss that has everyone cheering, and enjoys the moment.

* * *

She has to go belowdecks a little while later to help Lynch cook the fish they caught. It tastes better than she expected, and she takes her own lunch back up on deck, along with portions for Henry and Killian.

Henry takes his food and wanders back over to Jim, who begins telling him a wild story about the time he and the others escaped from the Navy.

“Don’t take it personally, love,” Killian says with an amused smile, glancing over at the two boys. “I gather the lad has always loved fairytales.”

Emma laughs. “Smugglers escaping from the Navy? You’ve got a weird idea of fairytales.”

“It’s close enough,” Killian assures her. “It seems that Jim has yet to learn the difference between embellishment and lie.”

“Oh, there’s a difference?” Emma asks, smirking.

He levels a look at her that says that he knows she knows. Chuckling, she asks, “You think he’s making it up?”

“Of course he’s making it up,” Killian says. “A group of smugglers, taking out a Navy boarding party and then running? Impossible. What he could get away with is a story about a bumbling lieutenant who failed to find their hidden compartments, and was persuaded to let them go. What likely happened...” It’s his turn to smirk. “I’d wager that a bribe blinded the lieutenant to said compartments, and both parties went on their way satisfied.”

Emma has to laugh. It sounds about right, and she’s spent enough time around Neal and others like him that she knows that’s exactly how these things go. “Doesn’t sound nearly as impressive, though.”

“No, indeed. One of many reasons not to become a smuggler.” He winks.

“Might have to tell that to Henry,” Emma says wryly. “He sure seems impressed.”

Killian grimaces theatrically. “Well, if he considers it as a career, we might have to set him straight. If he comes out of this with the ambition to become a smuggler, Regina might murder me.”

“Or me,” Emma says. Then she considers it. “Or both of us.”

“I thought she might be inclined to blame me, but thinking about it, you might be right,” Killian agrees. “Best to avoid it. Perhaps I ought to tell him some stories of my Navy days, chasing down foolish smugglers.”

She smiles at that. “Is that what you did?”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Not often, but I can spin a better tale than our young friend.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Emma bites back a request for a real story from his Navy days. He rarely even mentions that part of his past, and asking him about it feels personal in a way she should probably avoid. Yes, she’s asked him before, but that was when she didn’t know him as well. Back when they were simply tentative allies. Now…

She’s been trying not to think about it. About him. But it’s hard not to when she’s lying in her hammock and can hear him breathing a few feet away. It’s a little pathetic, actually, just how much of her thoughts he takes up. They aren’t even spending all that much time together at the moment. It just feels like she’s constantly seeing new sides to him.

Or rather, frustrating little glimpses of those sides that have her curious for more.

“I think he’s a bad influence,” she says wryly, trying to get her own thoughts off that track and back to the conversation. “Henry can’t wait to get back to the others so he can tell them all about our dramatic escape from pirates.”

Killian makes a face. “Dramatic indeed. Some stories need no embellishment, I suppose.”

“I think I prefer it when the stories are made-up,” she says. “That whole based on real events thing isn’t so great when the real events are happening to you.”

“Aye.” Killian gives a rueful shake of his head. “It isn’t nearly as fun from this side, I must say.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

It’s not until he smiles back at her that she realises he did it on purpose this time, bringing up his past. Not his Navy past—that, he’s still close-mouthed about—but his past as a pirate. That’s something he’s been doing more and more, and she has wondered why. She can’t help thinking that it’s a test, to see how she reacts. To make sure that she knows who he is.

No trickery.

She swallows. But she can’t help seizing the opportunity. “So that’s what you did, huh?”

“Aye.” He makes a face as he reconsiders. “Well. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I was better at it.”

She rolls her eyes at the ego display, but smiles. “Right. Of course.”

He shoots her a smug grin. “I have the gold to prove it, love.”

“Uh-huh.” She returns the smirk and settles back against the railing. “So, tell me how to be a better pirate than Blackbeard.”

“I never went after smugglers, for starters,” he says. “Bloody stupid, trying to run down vessels made for outrunning the Navy.”

“Makes sense. So who did you go after?”

“Merchant ships, mostly,” he says. “Those flying Navy colours.”

She arches her eyebrows. “Isn’t that riskier, attacking ships that are under Navy protection?”

“Oh, aye.” His grin widens as he warms to the topic. “But that was the point. To hit the king where it hurts—his royal coffers. Riskier, aye, but also far more rewarding.”

Emma can just imagine him in a tavern somewhere, impressing some girl with tales of his exploits. She isn’t that girl—she refuses—but she can’t resist asking, “And what about the Navy?”

“Oh, we tangled with them a few times, too.” He says it with a defiant sort of pride. “And sent them running.”

She smiles. “And how much of that is... embellishment?”

He shakes his head. “Embellishing is for when you’re trying to impress someone, love, and I know better than to try and impress you.”

“Really,” she says, with a tone and expression that should tell him exactly how much she believes that.

He grins again. “Well, perhaps not. But I know better than to try and do it with lies.”

Because she’d see through them. And, she suspects, because it would be dishonourable, but he isn’t big on admitting that. “Good,” she says, refusing to dwell on why exactly it’s good. “So… how many?”

He looks startled. “What?”

“How many ships?” she asks. There’s a challenge in her voice, and she knows it. But she feels like he challenged her first, by bringing up his past. So she meets his gaze, calm and curious, and waits to see if he’ll answer.

He does. “Thirty-four in all,” he says evenly. “Three of them Navy ships.”

Emma has no point of reference, but thirty-four ships sounds like a lot. And she doesn’t want to ask, but the question comes out anyway. “Did you sink them all?”

He shakes his head. “We sank two of the Navy ships and left the other derelict. I don’t know what became of her.”

There’s no apology or regret as he says it, but it inches onto his face afterwards, much as he tries to stay stoic. Emma has no point of reference for this either, but the numbers seem odd. “What happened?” she asks, playing a hunch. “After the second one?”

She catches the surprise flashing across his face at that; a rueful smile follows. “I realised that the men on those ships were men like me—men who thought they were serving a noble cause. Men who had no real choice but to be there.” He shrugs casually. “They hardly deserved to die for that.”

“Ah.” Emma has no idea what to say; he’s right, of course, but now her mind has snagged on no real choice. Together with other comments he’s let slip, it makes her wonder how exactly he wound up in the Navy in the first place.

She’s starting to understand why he rarely talks about his past in detail. She thought it was out of shame or a reluctance to admit to or revisit his crimes, but that’s not it. He doesn’t shy away from that. But there’s a lot of pain hidden behind those easy words, that determined smile.

He’s so open about everything else that it’s a bit puzzling. He’s not a man who’s scared of how he feels, nor of admitting it, but this… this is different somehow.

She understands all too well that the past can be painful; her own is hardly a picnic. It’s just never stopped her from talking about it.

She’s not really sure, now she thinks of it, why that is.

“I was hell-bent on vengeance, for my brother,” Killian goes on. “It’s not an excuse, of course, but that’s what drove me at first. I lost sight of things for a while. Or rather, I simply didn’t think it all through.”

Emma nods. That much, she understands. Killian is smart as a whip, but she knows how aggressively single-minded he gets when he’s riled up.

“And as I said before,” he goes on, in a light tone that tells her he’s determined not to let this conversation get too heavy, “a pirate crew demands treasure. So all things considered… we focused on taking merchant ships. I won’t pretend no one ever got hurt, but it was never the object. We took their cargo, not their lives. Of course,” he grins, and it’s only a little too bright and determined, “that had the added bonus that they were alive to talk about me.”

“Which I’m guessing they did,” she says, smiling back.

He gives a thoroughly unconvincing humble shrug. “They did indeed.”

“So you get a reputation,” Emma says, nodding, “which makes the next time easier, because if people are scared of you, it’s easier to convince them to surrender?”

“That’s about it, aye.” His grin is more genuine now. “You were right about having it in you. You’d make a good pirate captain.”

“Thanks,” she says drily, “but I think I’ll leave that to you.”

* * *

As the crew settles in to the new routine after the attack, Emma finds that Wes has discovered a new hobby: flirting with her. Mostly, it takes the form of teasing and elaborate courtly compliments—or at least, his idea of courtly compliments. Emma has a suspicion that the gentlemen at court aren’t supposed to be this forward, and from the way Wes smirks, he knows it too.

Thankfully, Emma has plenty of experience with keeping guys like him at a distance, and she’s never shy of an answer. Spending so much time with Killian has really helped to hone her wits, and it’s fun, shutting Wes down and getting laughs from the rest of the crew while she does it.

And to her mild surprise, Killian shows no sign of jealousy.

A few days into the voyage, Emma is ambling along the deck when she catches sight of Killian and Wes, standing on a clear few metres of the deck. Both have their cutlasses out, and as Emma watches, they clash into a bind, but their movements are slow and telegraphed.

“No,” she hears Killian say as she approaches, “you use the short edge, turn it into the—” He breaks off and looks at Emma. “Emma! Just the woman we need.”

She eyes him warily. “Oh, yeah?”

“Aye, you remember the trick for levering your opponent’s sword from his hand?”

She nods, still wary. “Is that what you guys are doing?”

“Trying to do,” Wes says ruefully. “I can’t get my head around it.”

“If you have a moment,” Killian says, “would you mind helping me demonstrate?”

Emma agrees, feeling unaccountably proud of herself at being good enough at this to show it to someone else. Killian runs through the move with her a couple of times, before pairing her off with Wes and having him do it, with Killian watching and correcting his stance.

“Thanks,” Wes says when he’s finally got the hang of the move, sending Emma’s blade skittering across the deck. He winks at her when she has retrieved it. “If you want me to show you a few moves, you know, return the favour...”

Emma winks back. “How about you show Hook, and I’ll watch you guys and make sure you’re doing it right?”

Killian bursts out laughing. So does Wes, shaking his head dramatically, and that’s the end of that.

“You’re hell on the ego, milady,” he says, still chuckling.

Killian pats him on the shoulder in feigned commiseration. “You get used to it.”

As Wes heads off to talk to the captain, Emma hands Killian back the blade. He takes it, and then he grins and nudges her shoulder with his arm. “It appears you have another admirer, love.”

She makes a face; Wes is a charmer, and she knows exactly what he means by all his little grins and comments. “I wouldn’t call it that—and what do you mean another one?”

He frowns as if it should be obvious. “In addition to me.”

Her heart gives a frankly stupid little flutter at that, and she laughs to try and cover the equally stupid smile that wants to spread across her face. “Oh come on, that’s—”

But she cuts herself off, because what is it? Different?

It is, and she knows it—Killian can be every bit as charming as Wes, but it’s not a fling he’s after, and there’s a hell of a lot more depth to the way his eyes linger on her. But knowing that and saying it are two very different things.

“Ridiculous,” she finishes. “He’s just—that’s just how he is, I think.”

“Oh, aye,” Killian agrees, and it occurs to her that she kind of just said exactly what she didn’t mean to say. “You’ll find that with sailors. Perhaps I should have warned you.”

Emma laughs again. “You’ll find that with men. Trust me, I don’t need to be warned.”

He inclines his head, still looking amused. “A fair point.”

She notices movement at the corner of her eye, and looks over to catch Ria looking right back. The captain is still talking to Wes, and she makes no acknowledgement, simply keeps talking to her quartermaster like she didn’t see anything.

But it makes guilt flare inside Emma. Guilt, and the heavy, hot feeling of being caught that she’s all too familiar with.

Ridiculous. She wasn’t doing anything. They were just talking. That’s allowed.

She ignores the little voice pointing out that she’s been telling herself that awful lot lately.

* * *

The forest isn’t as comforting as Regina hoped. It’s the best she can get, given the circumstances, and it’s good to get away from the castle. She was right about that.

And she was right about nobody missing her, too. Nobody asks her where she went when she makes her way back.

She goes again the next day, and she can already see it becoming a new habit, her daily—or almost-daily--escape.

The problem is that it leaves her with nothing but her own thoughts for company. And she keeps coming across things that make her think of Henry. A deer running across a clearing in the distance. A rabbit burrow. A cave. A fallen tree that looks perfect for climbing.

Henry would love it here, and her heart aches with the thought. She’d give anything to have him here. She’d even let him explore that gross-looking cave if he wanted.

She’s sitting on the fallen tree, staring at the endless leaves and branches and undergrowth, when she hears a twig snap. One, then another, and another. Something, or someone, is approaching, and not being very careful to avoid notice.

Regina gets to her feet, gathering magic to her.

Moments later, she lets it go again, because there’s more rustling and a figure comes into view. A small figure, movements clumsy, eyes wide under a mop of dark curls.

“Roland,” she says, and the boy starts and almost falls as he comes to a stop.

There’s no more noise. So he’s alone. That can’t be good.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks, keeping her voice as light and friendly as she can, and flashing a smile for good measure.

Roland just stares at her, and she knows she has to be careful. She’s never really interacted with the boy before, so he barely knows her. The look he’s giving her is a mixture of fear and irrepressible curiosity.

“Did you come all the way out here by yourself?” she asks. “Are you running away?”

Roland shakes his head, sending his curls flying. “There’s a rabbit,” he says. “I wanna see the rabbits.”

The ‘r’ sound gives him a little trouble. It’s kind of adorable. In fact, he’s adorable all around, with those curls and big dark eyes and the dimples that flash when he smiles.

He got those from his father.

Regina pushes away the thoughts of Robin’s dimples and feigns thought. There’s no way Roland is out here alone with Robin’s blessing, or indeed his knowledge. She needs to get him back home. “I see. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a rabbit’s burrow earlier. Do you want me to show you?”

Roland’s eyes grow wider.

“Come on,” she says, holding out a hand as she takes a step towards him. “I’ll show you.”

Roland still looks unsure. “Papa says I can’t go with strangers.”

“And your papa is right,” she says. “But you know me, don’t you? I’m a friend of your papa’s.”

She’s stretching the definition of “friend” to breaking point with that; she’s pretty sure that Robin doesn’t like her, and their relationship is more like “mutual tolerance for the sake of the cause”. But Roland is all of five. There’s no way he’s noticed that.

“And you know my name, right?”

“Regina,” Roland says, with a nod and another one of those half-mangled r’s.

“That’s right.” She gives him another encouraging smile. “So we’re friends, too. Come on, I’ll show you where the rabbits live.”

She can’t help noticing as she says it that this is exactly the kind of thing she’s warned Henry about. Stranger danger. Don’t ever go with anyone unless you know them. It’s the kind of thing an Evil Queen would do, lure children to come with her under false pretences. It’s the kind of thing she has done, come to think of it.

But Roland really shouldn’t be out here alone, and there’s no one else around. Her only other option is to just grab him and return him to his father, and that would terrify him.

Luckily, Roland nods. “Okay.”

He takes her hand as she reaches him, and she begins leading him back towards the castle, keeping up a steady stream of talk as she does. She tells him about the rabbits, asks him what other animals he likes, and whether he’s seen the birds nesting in the stables. Within moments, Roland is chattering away happily, and she has a moment of pity for Robin. His son is clearly the kind of kid who will just forget all the warnings as soon as he sees something interesting, or gets an idea in his head.

They haven’t quite made it to the road yet when she hears a voice. A familiar voice: loud, male, and strained with worry. “Roland!”

Roland comes to a stop, eyes widening again. “Uh oh.”

Regina tightens her hold on his hand a bit, just in case. “That’s your papa, isn’t it? I think we’d better tell him where we are.”

Roland looks reluctant, but Regina says, “We don’t want him getting lost, right?”

That clearly hasn’t occurred to him. He nods.

Regina draws breath, and shouts. “Robin? Over here!”

Robin is rather louder than his son as he comes crashing through the undergrowth, breathless and pale, eyes wide. “Roland--bloody hell.”

He falls to his knees before his son and snatches him into a hug. “Where the hell were you?”

“Papa!” Roland complains, little arms pushing at Robin’s shoulders. “Let go.”

“Not bloody likely,” Robin says, letting out a deep breath. Then he looks up at Regina. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casting around for the right words to justify herself, to explain. She feels like that a lot around him. She doesn’t know how he does it, but she hates it. “I was just out—for a walk. And Roland showed up. Alone. I figured he probably wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Definitely not.” Robin gets to his feet, still holding onto Roland.

“Papa!” Roland squirms. “Let me down!”

“What did I tell you about going into the forest alone?” Robin asks, his voice taking on a stern tone that Regina knows well.

Roland shakes his head, lips pressed together. “Down!”

Robin is unmoved. “I’ll let you down, but you hold onto my hand, and not one word out of you.”

“But I wanna see the rabbits!”

“Then you should have asked someone to go with you,” Robin says. “No wandering off alone, you know that. Come on.”

Roland’s lips quiver, but he seems to know that tone, because he doesn’t try to argue any more. He lags slightly behind his father as they walk, steps dragging, but Robin says nothing, just keeps a tight hold of the boy’s hand.

“Thank you,” Robin says, turning back to Regina. “I swear he was right there, and I turned my back and he was gone. I don’t know how he does it.”

“I’m pretty sure kids have some kind of magic like that,” Regina says, a wry smile coming to her face before she can stop it. “It gets better when they get older.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “You have a son, don’t you? Snow mentioned as much.”

“Snow needs to learn to mind her own business.” She snaps the words as the mention of Henry brings pain boiling back up.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Robin says, a note of impatience in his voice, “she mentioned it to try and explain your behaviour.”

Regina feels her eyebrows rise. “My behaviour?”

“This,” Robin says, gesturing at her. “The rudeness. The way you snap at everyone all the time. The things they all make allowances for, not that you seem to notice.”

“I am not—” But she is, and she knows it. She’s being rude to him right now, snapping at him for asking a simple question.

What does he mean, making allowances? No one ever makes allowances for her. They just make demands.

“No?” Robin says, still sounding a little impatient. “You reckon they all treat you the way you treat them?”

That gives her pause, and she hates it. Because he’s got a point, and that’s even worse.

“Of course not,” Regina says, doing her best to sound disdainful. “They’re far too good for that.”

As clapbacks go, it’s pathetic, and she knows it. Good isn’t an insult, in fact if anything she’s just called herself out for not being good.

Well, big newsflash there.

For a moment, they walk in silence, Regina trying to think of a better retort, Robin giving nothing away.

Then he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I gather it’s a painful subject. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He apologises like it’s nothing, like it costs him nothing. After all the times they’ve butted heads, all the glares, that comes as a real surprise. She’s so surprised that she almost forgets that it really is a painful subject.

She doesn’t know how to respond, so she just keeps walking in silence. Robin is silent, too. After a minute or two, she can’t take it anymore.

“He’s in another realm.” She swallows, and shrugs. “I’m his adoptive mother. He wasn’t born here. He’s—when the curse brought us all back here, it left him behind. He’s with his birth mother now. Emma.”

“Snow and David’s daughter,” Robin says, nodding as the pieces fall together. “I didn’t know—that sounds complicated.”

She smiles again, like her heart isn’t broken. It’s a well-practiced smile, and she hates it. “We were figuring it out.”

“Right.” He hesitates for longer this time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” It’s not all right, but the last thing she wants is this man’s sympathy. Or anyone’s, for that matter.

She hopes he’ll drop the subject, but he doesn’t seem to be done yet. “What’s his name?”

She smiles despite herself. “Henry.”

“A good name,” Robin says, nodding.

“He ran away a lot,” she says, to get them back on track. And then, more quietly, “From me.”

She has no idea why she says it. She doesn’t know why she’s talking about this at all, except that he’s asking, and listening, and it’s not like she can say anything to lower his opinion of her. It’s weirdly freeing.

“Ah.” Robin doesn’t look like he understands, exactly, but there’s no judgment in his eyes either. “Roland doesn’t run away, really. He just gets these ideas in his head, and it’s so exciting that he forgets about the danger. And the situation being what it is...” He trails off.

“You have to be a little stricter,” she says, nodding. She can’t judge anyone for being strict with their kids. She was, with Henry—too much so, probably. Or at least for the wrong reasons. “Sometimes it’s hard to keep them safe.”

“Yeah.” Robin smiles at her—an actual smile, not one of the sarcastic smirks she usually gets. “I’m very glad you found him. Thank you.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, she manages something halfway between a nod and a shrug. “Of course.”

He’s still looking at her, so she arches an eyebrow. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just something of an enigma, that’s all.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. Enigmas are things to be figured out, and she does not want this man to try and figure her out. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just having a hard time reconciling this woman with the Evil Queen,” he says. A hint of a smirk tugs at his mouth. “Or with the woman who yells at me every time I make a suggestion.”

“I don’t yell at you.”

He laughs. “No? What do you call it?”

She huffs. “You started it last time.”

“I don’t think I did,” he says with a smug grin.

“See, that right there,” she says, pointing, “that’s what I mean by starting it. You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re haughty and conceited,” he shoots back. He’s still grinning.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks acidly.

“Yes, actually,” he admits, and he doesn’t look abashed or the least bit sorry. “It isn’t often I get to tell a member of the aristocracy exactly what I think of them.”

“You could tell Snow. She’s a lot more forgiving than I am.”

“Yes, she’s very gracious. I like her a lot. And I have in fact told her so.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed and at the same time feeling strangely… light. “Of course you did.”

They bicker until they get back to the castle, because Robin has an answer for everything and Regina can’t let that stand, and it takes her until they get there to figure out what the odd feeling in her chest is.

When she does, she scowls harder than ever, especially when Robin leaves with a cheery wave that’s not quite insouciant enough to prove.

She’s stuck in Misthaven, without Henry, without her things, with Snow and Charming and a whole host of do-gooders.

She is not enjoying herself.

* * *

Tag list - I think this is everyone who’s actually interested in this fic and asked to be tagged, but let me know if you want to be added or taken off! @optomisticgirl @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @spartanguard @winterbaby89 @kday426 @sals86 @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @scientificapricot

#cs ff #cs au #ouat ff #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #fic: given the choice #oh boy it's been a while huh #is this thing on??#hi!

59 notes · View notes

see-arcane · 1 year

Note

something tells me you have two immediate wants: write gothic romance, write a proper subversion of the reincarnation plot device. decide what you want first. if it's the romance pour it out on barking harker even if you're on completely different plothreads right now, but draft it. go ham. make jane austen blush make st.t gibson wish she were you. if it's the reincarnation aspect you desire most then work of the new project first.

The trouble is that so many of my Dracula-based ideas have very similar ingredients, but depending on the recipe (plot/emphasis), I get such extremely different results. But I still need those ingredients to make those stories work and trying to juggle them all risks me pulling a Stephen King and having too many lookalike tropes happening. Barking Harker has the benefit of being a story that's completely out of left field compared to any spinoff I've seen, with very few repeatable tropes in play for other stories I have in mind. It's safe! No copycat risk! (And, spoilers, while romance is 100% the impetus for Jonathan and Mina's predicaments, it's not the sole spotlight. It's very much Horror drama > Loving drama there.)

But for the gothic romance with Vampiric Jonathan and Reincarnated Mina, the prospect of the whole cast getting reincarnated out of guilt, and the meta commentary Dracula VS Dracula battle in modern day all require 'Jonathan Harker being the New Dracula' as their main foundation. Without that premise, no version of the story can happen.

No Mina 2.0 finding herself trapped and discovering impossible truths about her smitten host.

No reborn heroes wondering at why they all seem so familiar to each other, and why they're so uneasy about the white-haired stranger lurking in the shadows and paying them far too much attention. A stranger who is not a stranger, but a mastermind who has bided his time for a century to bring them back, to give them new lives in apology, to collect Mina for himself for eternity. And if they get in his way? Well. What's another hundred years if he's forced to make another red mess?

No epic ultimate confrontation between Classic Dracula, the Pop Cultural Protagonist Role Usurper, versus Jonathan the Dracula, proving he is the better character as a hero, as a lover, and as a monster, finally kicking the Count down a peg and permanently into Hell. All this, plus the added pleasure of justice for Lucy, Renfield, and Quincey and the rest of the cast, with Jonathan refusing to let Dracula sink his teeth into their lives again--resulting in his own comprehension and disgust with himself, alongside his redemption.

They all need Jonathan the Dracula, but they all need a slightly (if vitally!) different iteration of him. Which means I can't play all of them out. Not without repeating myself, but an inch to the left. And I will not Stephen King myself. Which brings me back to the three-way tie issue. 🙃

I think the safest bet is to start with the compact Jonathan and Mina in the Castle premise. It's shorter in theory, taking less time and energy to burn on it if it doesn't come out right. But B and C will still be gnawing at me all the while. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#frustration station #I want to have all of my cakes and eat them too but THEY ARE DIFFERENT CAKES and I CAN ONLY HAVE ONE AAAAUGH #jonathan harker the dracula #dracula bad ending #jonathan harker #dracula #dracula daily #my writing

10 notes · View notes

oneofthesirens · 2 years

Note

do you have any personal favourite jily/marauders headcanons 🌻

My thoughts and feelings on the Marauders & Jily???? THEYRE ENDLESS (I apologise for how long it took me to reply, I was just so excited to write everything down!)

So a few subcategories to truly express my infinite amount of thoughts in one post:

James

James is the GLUE that holds that friendship together. He's the kind of person that everyone wants to be around. But I don't imagine him being stereotypically cool (like Sirius) rather he is just a 💫BEAM OF LIGHT💫 that everyone adores. He would be the kind of person to walk up to someone in a bar and know they're life story five seconds later - Remus, Lily and Sirius are in the corner like... wtf ??? please can we not talk to these strangers rn?????

James and Lily bicker a lot - but in a funny, teasing sort of way. I can’t imagine that they would have a sickly sweet romance, instead they would just tease the ever loving shit out of each other as their love language

Speaking of love languages, James’ is physical touch. He is just AFFECTION overload. Just resting his arm casually over Lily’s shoulders, or twirling a strand of her hair. With his friends he’s exactly the same (basically I just imagine a Marauders cuddle pile but they’d be like no we’re not cuddling we’re all just lying in Sirius’ bed…. What??? That’s cuddling????)

He has an extremely dry and witty sense of humour (I cannot write this in my fics because dry humour…confuses me at the best of time)

Lily

I think Lily at her core is a very forgiving and optimistic person. She is always looking to see the best in people and is genuinely happy to be there if anyone needs help. That’s what drove her crazy about James - he managed to throw all of that out the window and send her barmy, which made her even more annoyed (and the cycle repeats.)

Lily and Sirius become best friends. No more said. But she’ll always have a soft spot for Remus, because she can sit with him & talk about Muggle books (side note: James tries to read Jane Austen because it’s Lily’s favourite author but he’s like WHAT IS THIS!?! WHO TALKS LIKE THIS!?)

Where James & Sirius are naturally talented, Lily is naturally a hard working and dedicated personality. She will work herself to the bone to get what she needs - on that note, I do think Lily would have struggled having her only job being the Order. I think she would have been quite regretful of what the war had taken from her youth, but especially regarding her career

Lily’s love language is quality time. Her ideal day is lounging around at home with James (and okay yes, the Marauders will probably pop in too…) She’s one of those introverted extroverts - she is bubbly and lovely to everyone but she LOVES her alone time as well.

#i have so many other thoughts but i feel bad about leaving this for so long!!!!!!#thank you for the ask lovely!!!

5 notes · View notes

xserpx · 1 year

Text

I posted 8,990 times in 2022

That's 641 more posts than 2021!

249 posts created (3%)

8,741 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@random-jot

@do-you-have-a-flag

@bluestockingbaby

@delektorskichick

@thatscarletflycatcher

I tagged 5,705 of my posts in 2022

Only 37% of my posts had no tags

#dracula - 539 posts

#dracula daily - 529 posts

#the first law - 276 posts

#joe abercrombie - 271 posts

#discworld - 263 posts

#gnu terry pratchett - 197 posts

#jane austen - 193 posts

#aubreyad - 165 posts

#our flag means death - 151 posts

#goncharov - 150 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#the transition from pterry needing to inject humour and just letting his themes and the more serious atmosphere sit without interruption 😌

My Top Posts in 2022:

Something else I like about Turning Red is the way that 4*Town's music becomes meaningful. Similar to that Rick Rolling episode of Ted Lasso, it shows that no matter how 'silly' or overplayed a song is, there are contexts in which those songs can still be sincere, and I just find that to be a very comforting thing tbh.

It gives lie to Bo Burnham's incredibly cynical take on boybands and teenage girls in his song "Repeat Stuff", and although I think 4*Town themselves are pretty shallow and obviously not meant to be taken seriously (although I'm also really glad they appear to be hardworking decent kids and that this wasn't a 'never meet your heroes' situation), the love and passion the girls put into their fandom is front and centre of the movie. It gives them confidence, it's a shared experience, it allows them to explore their sexuality and identity safely.

And especially after movies like the Toy Story sequels, where the ultimate message is that you have to leave childhood behind, or Frozen, which tends to treat Anna's burgeoning sexuality as a shameful thing, Turning Red is a breath of fresh air for how unapologetically it celebrates those most formative years of our lives.

234 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

The way Dracula immediately discards Mina's letter and calls it "vile", I have to think he knows exactly what he's doing in burning it; it's a physical representation of him crushing Jonathan's hopes and snatching away a link to the world outside, a twist of the knife. Also the way that because he can't read it he deems it "an outrage on friendship and hospitality" is horrifying. I wonder if the symbols shock him on reflex, as if he might see them as religious or significant in ways that can harm him - maybe it's the Dresden Files fan in me, but the fact that that letter would likely cause pain to a White Court vampire, and how any symbols can be religious and dangerous for vampires as long as there is enough belief in them, I can't help but think his reaction is more than just annoyance at Jonathan for keeping secrets. The letter could have been dangerous to him, and so here he is proving his invulnerability.

There's also something very cinematic in that scene. I can almost picture Jonathan's face changing as the fire consumes that letter, the shadows moving across his face as his expression goes from fear to horror to despair before the light disappears.

262 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

"Sam Vimes sighed when he heard the scream, but he finished shaving before he did anything about it."

— Night Watch by Terry Pratchett

Yesterday's (May 8th) Dracula Daily made me think of the first line of Night Watch. Sam 'no vampires' Vimes would never.

264 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirt sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

— Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

281 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tumblr User 1: I like your shoelaces.

Tumble User 2: Thanks, I stole them from the president.

Tumblr User 2: I like your shoes.

Tumblr User 1: Thanks, they're original Goncharov merch.

308 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

3 notes · View notes

murphysletsdraw · 2 years

Note

For the book asks:

4. 7, 9, 13, 17, and 19!

Thank you!! :D (book meme)

what sections of a bookstore do you browse? Sci-fi/Fantasy and the classics in a normal bookstore and economy in a well stocked politics/nonfiction bookstore :3 is there a series/book that got you into reading? My parents read to me so much that it’s hard to say but LoTR and the Neverending Story were def two of my first book loves. I think the Discworld books were the first I actually went out and bought with my own pocket money when do you tend to read most? I listen to a lot of librivox audiobooks, esp Jane Austen’s books on repeat, while I work (btw I really recommend that site - the quality of the readings is a little uneven but it’s all free and their library is enormous) and besides that it’s all or nothing - months where I finish a book every other day and then months where I don’t read anything. My reading habits are terrible these days but I’m working on it! do you have a goodreads? yes but I’m godawful at using social media so I’ve barely touched it tbh. I do however keep a physical reading journal! It helps both my memory and my motivation ^^ top 5 children’s books?

All of the Moomin books of course - esp the short story The Hemulen Who Loved Silence which was life saving for me as a kid

Pettson och Findus - super charming series that doesn’t patronise kids and the illustrations are out of this world gorgeous in that style kids love, full of fun little details to search for. if I had the money I’d collect the whole series now just for the pictures!