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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 months

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So, as people know, I watched a lot of panel shows during lockdown. Too many panel shows during lockdown. My friends were all sending messages about mentally suffering from the lack of human contact, and I was saying I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve seen every single episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats in the last month and I’m fine. Do you want to hear about it? No? Fine, I’ll create a Tumblr blog and tell them about it instead and the only cost will be that by a couple of years later I’ll have totally emotionally disconnected from the real life I used to have. Like I said, my mental health responded really well to lockdowns.

Anyway, that had some less dark effects on my mind as well, one of which is that at some point, British accents started to be the ones I expected to hear. Because I was listening to them all day, and never interacting with anyone in person, I didn’t hear the Canadian accent of myself or the people I know for ages, I just heard these British ones. It maybe didn’t help that I got so focused on the accents specifically, as I tried to overcome my tone-deafness and learn to tell the difference among the 300,000 known British accents that are out there so I could get the jokes based on them, and I mostly failed in my quest but I can at least reliably tell Scottish apart from Welsh apart from Yorkshire apart from Croydon these days. Also I know what Croydon is. (I already knew what Yorkshire was, due to the Monty Python sketch.)

Anyway, I spent so much time buried in that media that when I did start occasionally interacting with humans again (not even when most restrictions were lifted, but when I went to stay with my parents for a while because they were worried about the agoraphobia I was developing/the lockdowns were clearly validating the agoraphobia I had always been prone to but hadn’t been able to enforce due to my lifestyle), I realized their accents sounded slightly strange to me. Not really weird or anything, I’d just hear them and get a tiny sense of “Oh, that’s different from how most people talk.” Even though it is how I talk and how everyone I know talks.

(Please note: I did not actually say this to anyone I knew, including my parents. Because I am aware of the stereotype of a person who goes to Europe for a few weeks and comes back pretending that they’re European now. And the only thing I can think of that would be worse than that is someone who manages to have picked that up by not even going over there, just spending many months locked in a room watching their TV shows. I did not walk around telling people they sound funny because I’m used to British accents now. I am also pleased to say I can confirm that no amount of concentrated panel show watching is enough for me to pick up a British accent myself, though I have normalized a few of their phrases in my head from all the Britcom, I have to stop myself from saying “football” instead of “soccer” on the rare occasions when that word comes up in my real life because I do not want to sound like I think I’m British now. I just genuinely hear that sport referenced constantly in my British media and almost never in my Canadian life, so the word for it in my head has changed. There are two or three other things like that, where my own vocabulary’s drifted toward British-isms as a result of the last few years, but mostly, any British-isms in my vocabulary are there because I read a lot of Phillip Pullman and Harry Potter and CS Lewis and Douglas Adams as a kid, and I picked up words from there, not thinking I was trying to “talk British”, I was just young enough to still frequently learn new words and expressions and I thought the stuff I came across in those books were just regular things I didn’t already know so I incorporated them into my speech and by the time I realized they’re not used here I’d already solidified the habit. Point being that I’ve been saying “brilliant” since long before 2020, and I can get away with little things like that because “brilliant” is a word that means the same thing in Canada and just isn’t used as often – it’s not like I use a word like “trousers” or something that we don’t have here at all. As for the actual accents, the only British accent I can sort of do a tiny bit is Glaswegian, but I can only do it while saying words that Jamie MacDonald said in The Thick of It, because I’ve spent so much time quoting him over the years that I think I can imitate him a bit. If you heard my Glaswegian accent you’d think it was bad, and you’d be right, but it would still be true that I can do it better than any other accents I’ve ever tried. It’s the tone deafness again. People have asked me before why I’ve never tried making music when deep love of music has always been such a big part of my life, and I tell them I don’t even have the auditory processing capability to tell an English from an Australian accent, I sure as hell can’t sing or play an instrument. I realize I’m getting quite far off the point by now. Back to the post.)

Since then, I’m pleased to say I’ve stopped having that feeling in real life, and have gone back to expecting the people around me to talk with Canadian accents, with no little twinge of “oh, that’s a bit different” when I hear it. However, I do still get that with media. I watch British TV and think they’re all talking normally, for how people on TV are meant to talk. I almost never watch American or Canadian TV anymore, so when I do occasionally put on an episode of 30 Rock or something, my brain will have a brief little jolt of “Oh, that’s a notably different accent” when the characters start talking in the exact same exact that I and everyone I know have (non-region-specific American accents = the same as non-region-specific Canadian accents, I’m almost sure, though I’ve had some people tell me there’s a slight difference and maybe I just don’t hear it due to the tone-deafness).

There is one exception to this, as I realized yesterday. I was watching a British TV show that featured children, and that sounded odd to me. It gave me that brief moment of thinking “Oh, that’s interesting, that’s a bit of a different way of speaking than I’m used to.” And I realized that while I’ve gotten very used to hearing adults be British on TV – so used to it that it sounds a bit weird when anyone on TV isn’t British now – I have rarely heard a British accent in a child’s voice. That still sounds like a surprising foreign accent to me.

Anyway, this was an overly long post in which I was just trying to give enough context to say: it turns out that I don’t expect children to be British, and my brain is slightly shocked by the idea. I am travelling to London and Edinburgh this summer, and as much as I think I have obsessively learned about British culture to the point where it's normalized in my head, I'm kind of looking forward to finding out what other things exist in British real life but not in British comedic media so I'll be surprised to see them when I get there. Things like children being British.

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louisetaylor · 5 days

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Where Are My Mutuals?

I've been on Tumblr for two years and barely connect with anyone. It's time for a change. In a vain attempt to connect with people, I shall list my interests. I have too many to fit in one post, so here's Volume One: Classic Literature. Stay tuned for more. Do not adjust your set. Make Tumblr Interactive Again.

Lord of the Rings. (currently working on a "sauron gets the ring" AU with my nerd brother but that's another story) I would die for Pippin. Also for Frodo. Eowyn and Faramir are one of my favorite ships. Also Aragorn/Arwen and their parallels to Beren/Luthien. (Tolkien feels like a beloved character himself because of his own beautiful love story with Edith and all the mischief he got up to with CS Lewis.) Can't remember if I've finished the Silmarillion but I should someday.

Which brings me to mythology! I (metaphorically) burned through most of the mythology section in the children's library as a kid. I'd like to know more about Native American myths from my region someday.

Greek myths: Eros and Psyche. Persephone and Hades of course. Orpheus and Eurydice. (I know most of the lyrics to Hadestown.) LOVE Prometheus. (And many other Christ figures, including but not limited to Jesus.) Pygmalion/Galatea has some nice potential for stories but I haven't thought about it much. Endymion/Selene is a beautiful story.

Norse: I'm not as into Norse myth but Neil Gaiman's obsession with Odin makes me go "all right, he's cool." Loki (myth Loki is a separate character from Movie Loki) is redheaded and dangerous and tricky and beautiful. Anything Loki or Odin does interests me. The other gods, not so much.

Celtic: I can't remember that many but I liked Cuchulainn, the Morrigan, and anything about the Tuatha de Danann and Tir-na-nOg. Their myths and gods mostly descended into fairy tales and fairies under Christianity, so I also like the stories of the Sidhe and their kidnappings and magic.

Fairy tales. I also burned through most of the fairy tale section as a kid. (NOT LITERALLY.) I liked all the different Cinderella stories, and Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Red Riding Hood, and anything else pretty or bloody. Grimm's Fairy Tales are hit or miss because the moralizing sometimes outweighs the drama.

Shakespeare. Oh Boy. Hamlet (I could fill a notebook with theories on Ophelia and ideas of how to play her), Much Ado About Nothing (I'm told I could play a good Beatrice...if I knew how to act, that is), Romeo and Juliet (as glorious to this night as angels are unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on them), Henry V (but only if he's played by Tom Hiddleston), Twelfth Night, Midsummer Night's Dream, Macbeth (I didn't say it, I wrote it, don't @ me). I go to a Shakespeare play every year on my birthday. So far I've seen Midsummer Night's Dream, Twelfth Night, and As You Like It. This year I'll see Much Ado.

The King Arthur legends. Recently read John Steinbeck's version. I like all the magic women. Morgan, Morgause, the Lady of the Lake, Nyneve. The Sword in the Stone by TH White is wonderful.

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butchniqabi · 11 months

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15 17 and 12?

15. recommend and review a book.

since im almost done with my reread (had to put it down for a hot minute) im going to recommend beloved by toni morrison. it is a heart breaking, heart repairing, horrible, beautiful, and painful read about the realities of slavery and the afterlife of slavery. sethe's determination to save her children comes at the cost of almost losing all of them, its a tragedy because her life was created by tragedy. but there is joy there, if only briefly, there is a life to be lived in the afterlife of slavery even if its hard, even if its full of sorrow and strife, there can be life after tragedy (and life after death in the case of beloved). beloved is not a passive ghost, she demands the question be asked "how do you know death is better for me when youve never died?" because sethe only wanted to save her kids from the horrors She knew, other horrors werent her business. so the story is a lot about give and take, push and pull, forgiveness and shame. im rambling but it is honestly a masterpiece and i recommend anyone who can handle its intense themes to read it.

17. top 5 children’s books?

okay so some of them are technically ya but the classification is based on books i read as a child

1. magician of hoad by margaret mahy

2. maddigan's fantasia by margaret mahy

3. coraline by neilman

4. trickster's choice by tamora pierce (yeah i know.)

5. i have to say the narnia series by cs lewis. im sorry i just have to. i do.

12 was answered!!!

#asks

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protect-namine · 6 months

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life imitates art or something when you grew up reading the narnia books and identified with lucy (or edmund, or the non-pevensie kids like eustace, shasta, etc) and you knew about the christian allegory in the stories, then you grow up and you're no longer a christian and you realize you're susan now

but also something something cs lewis ping-ponged between atheism and christianity himself and also probably identified with susan too so. art imitates life etc etc

#mine musings #something something susan's ending is unfinished and cs lewis didn't get to finish it something something #we all know what ending he would have wanted though #but like idk. the parallelisms you know #cs lewis and susan and the ex-christian reader #hey that could be a book title. or an essay title

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sam-moss · 1 year

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There was a ride, well, it wasn’t a ride as much as it was just a themed room where there was a “guide”? that talked to you, but it was at Disney world in Hollywood studios when I was a kid.

It was called Journey Into Narnia and I barely remember it but a distinctly remember it was a line and then a dark room and then it was the final room. The room to end all rooms

It was the room where they killed Aslan. Aslan’s table was there. It was cracked. It felt like a memorial. It was a surprisingly religious experience.

Going over the experience again in my head made me realize why. It’s literally Jesus’ Tomb. I didn’t realize it at the time but when I was little it felt like walking thru Arlington Cemetery but in a Christian way. I knew CS Lewis was a Christian and that Aslan was a Christ-symbol, but it’s still wild to realize how deep the religious symbolism goes. He died for our sins, that’s obvious. The cracked table is the curtain of the temple being torn in two. And then he RESURRECTED! HE AROSE ONCE AGAIN!!!

This post was just supposed to be a joke about how funny it was that they put a grave in Disney World as an attraction for children to… enjoy? I adored it, it was my favorite but it closed in September 2011. Maybe the 10th anniversary of 9/11 made them realize how weird the optics were.

#sam speaks #also sorry the text is red. I thought tumblr broke and wouldn’t let me see the text but I realized it was just set to black instead of white #(I’m on dark mode) and so I clicked to change the color and it was the color was already white. Incorrect! it is black but you just think it #is white for some reason? so tumblr had just broken a different way than I had thought.#but all the other colors worked. red is the one next to white and I also think it adds a violoent energy to the post #the room was dimly lit by simulated firelight btw so it matches the atmosphere

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solsticemuse · 1 year

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My friend finally discovered Madeleine L'Engle’s Time Quintet and I could not be more excited. A Wrinkle In Time was a one of the staples of my childhood and later on the rest of the series. I was always an avid reader and the Time Quintet and the associated books was one the first interconnected series that I ever read. Most of the books I were reading, were Babysitter’s Club but I had started to branch out into more fantasy/sci fi with Narnia and My Teacher is An Alien series, both series still have a special place in my heart and always will.

It was a Wrinkle In Time that is part of the big three, as I call them that really kicked off my love of reading, more of those another day. I was hooked from the first line. I can’t remember how I found the book, it could have been like the other two, something I bought at the Scholastic Book Fair, which please, can we have that for adults now?

The story was incredible and the world she created between the Murray/O’Keefe/Austin family captured my imagination. Later on I decided to see if she wrote anything else and a couple of years ago I came across Ilsa, a book of hers that was reprinted for the first time in nearly 60 years. I do like to follow authors that I read as child into adulthood, and I am always excited to find out that they also wrote books for an older audience as well. I liked Ilsa. I did not know what to expect because you get so used to one genre that you have associated with an author and when they branch out to something else, it can really be interesting.

I felt the same way about CS Lewis when I found out that he wrote a space trilogy. For me Lewis was Narnia and The Screwtape Letters. I do wish that I found some of these books earlier in life. If I knew about the space trilogy as a kid, I would have read it immediately. It was different back then, didn’t have the internet to quickly find these things. Most of my discoveries were made from wandering around the bookstores my parents used to take me to, the library and scholastic book fair of course. I really hope my friend enjoys the series.

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demisexualemmaswan · 3 years

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till the summer comes again

Summary: “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”- Lewis Carroll Emma has been dating Killian for two years, and since then their family unit has only gotten closer. But that could change with the arrival of Eloise Gardner, Killian’s ex. Oh, and has Emma mentioned she’s pregnant? Not exactly. A sequel to six impossible things before breakfast.

[Read on Ao3] A/N: It is 10:40pmEST on my posting date for @csjanuaryjoy and here I am getting this right under the wire. I did not intend to be posting this late, nor did I necessarily intend to write a sequel for a fic that I wrote two years ago and quite frankly had no intention of continuing. But here we are. At any rate: enjoy this CS January Joy fic! --

Pregnant.

Emma stared at it for what felt like a minute, and then looked at the other one just to be sure.

Pregnant.

And then she picked up the third one just to be safe.

Pregnant.

A veritable tempest of very conflicting emotions all swirled within her. Joy. Excitement. Nervousness. Dread. Fear.

She nearly grabbed her phone to text Killian to tell him right away, but a wave of nausea was stronger than all of it and she put her head in the toilet. “Seriously?” she complained, her hand curling protectively over her stomach. “Your brother Henry wasn’t like this, you know,” she admonished softly.

“Emma?” A hesitant knock sounded at the door, and the timid voice of Alice, Killian’s daughter, wafted in gently. “Emma, are you sure you’re okay? I’m sure Papa wouldn’t mind just bringing some Granny’s home if you wanted to stay in. I could make you some tea while we wait.”

Emma closed her eyes and considered her options as she kept her head pressed against the cool porcelain. On the one hand, staying at home sounded nice. On the other, Henry and Alice cherished family dinner night at Granny’s. They would certainly be flexible if Alice’s concern was anything to go by. But Emma knew that with the teen years on the horizon, they would only get so many more of these together.

“Emma?” Alice repeated.

“Mom?” Henry’s voice joined Alice’s.

“There is no need to get the Spanish inquisition together,” she told them, sitting up. “Something’s not sitting right with me, but I’ll get some soup at the diner and it’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t we go to the diner, make the order to go and then bring it back?” Henry suggested. “That way Mom doesn’t have to sit so long but we can still go!”

“I’ll text Papa!” Alice said excitedly, and Emma heard the thump of her footsteps as she sprinted away from the bathroom door.

Emma just smiled affectionately, even though neither of her kids could see her. She had to stop that thought for a moment, reflecting on how much had changed in the past two years. Ever since that fateful incident with the bullies, she and Killian had worked and built a relationship and a life together.

They’d bought a bigger apartment together, although with two almost teenagers and now a baby on the way she’d have to reconsider her whole living situation and maybe they’d have to buy a house.

She loved the life that she and Killian built so far. He was attentive, caring, and so good with Henry. And she’d come to love Alice’s tender heart, her creativity, and her sweet tooth. Though she hadn’t articulated this to Alice or Killian yet, admittedly too afraid to break the contentment she finally experienced for the first time in her life.

Emma knew, logically, that both Alice and Killian’s hearts were big enough that this would only strengthen things and not break them, but the little lost girl that lived in Emma’s brain loved to remind her of Neal at every opportune moment and stop her from feeling secure in her relationship.

She was working on this. With Archie every week. Sometimes Killian was there and sometimes she was alone. But she was working on it every day. And she wasn’t alone and her relationship baggage. Killian had told her about Milah, who was not Alice’s mom but had been sleeping with him while she was married and that ended poorly. She could see it in the way Killian’s jaw clenched whenever Alice’s mom came up in conversation.

Alice had stopped asking after a while, but the weight of her mother and the unanswered questions sometimes hung in her interactions with Emma.

“Emma?” Alice had returned to the door.

“Mom, are you dead?” Henry asked worriedly, jiggling the doorknob.

“I’m okay,” Emma called back. “I just…needed a minute.” She quickly cleaned up the mess up so the kids wouldn’t stumble upon the pregnancy tests by accident. She opened the door and soon had her arms full of two twelve-year olds, who she squeezed close to her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll still have family dinner, just like always,” she hummed. She leaned over and kissed the top of their heads. “Now go get your shoes.”

Henry dashed away to go get his shoes, but Alice stayed curled in close to Emma for a moment longer.

“You okay, star?” Emma asked softly. Alice smiled a little bit against Emma’s side. The one time Emma had called her “starfish”, Alice had made it abundantly clear that she was only her father’s starfish. So Emma had compromised and asked how she felt about star. So Emma’s star she became.

“Mhmm. Just glad you are too,” Alice said softly, gently squeezing her.

Emma’s nausea greatly protested at the action, but she wouldn’t dare let it show on her face. Alice clearly needed reassurance, which Emma was more than happy to give. “C’mon, let’s go get see your Dad, hmm?”

Alice beamed up at her and raced off into the other room. Emma couldn’t help but smile, knowing that in her heart of hearts that Henry and Alice would be incredible older siblings.

But first she had to tell them.

As per their usual tradition, Alice and Henry went scampering off to the jukebox to play some songs, but Killian said that since they were only picking up food to go that they needed to compromise on the song choice rather than switching the two.

Over her shoulder, she could see the two kids having like a good natured argument as they flipped through the song choices. Warmed in thought, she swiveled on the counter stool to look at Killian.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, love?” Killian asked worriedly, his hand gently cupping her face.

Two years ago, she certainly would have no idea how integral Killian would become to her well-being. And it wasn’t bad before when she lived alone. She could take care of herself fairly easily and her son.

But to have a true and equal partner, who she could depend on and support, fall back on and push up when they needed meant more than she could say. For the first time in a long time, with Killian, nothing ever truly felt like that much of a struggle. Sure there were arguments and tension sometimes, but with Killian…she didn’t feel like she was white knuckling her grip through life.

Except for the fact that she was white knuckling a napkin in her hand right now, but that was more from nerves because she wanted to keep things the way they were. They’d never talked about kids, though they were both fairly young parents.

Another child wouldn’t be completely unreasonable.

“Love?” Killian’s voice brought her back out of her head. “Is everything okay?”

Looking into his eyes, Emma was warmed by the love and support she saw there. “Yeah, uh…” she started shyly. Her heart began to pick up faster and faster in her chest. “There’s just…something I need to tell you?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. She smiled and dropped her head, smiling at her lap.

“Yeah, I know,” Emma laughed softly. “It’s just…” She picked her head back up, only for her smile to fade. Killian’s jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes blazed as he looked beyond her. “Killian?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Killian snarled, jumping off his stool and striding toward a woman who was now standing near Henry and Alice.

“Hello, Killian.” The woman’s voice seemed pleasant enough, but it struck a chord with Emma in a way she did not enjoy. She leaped off her chair and ushered the children in close to her. The woman narrowed her eyes at Emma. “Who is this? And why is she near my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” Emma repeated, dumbfounded.

“You lost every right to call her that over a decade ago, Eloise,” Killian growled, effectively putting himself between Eloise and Emma. “She’s my daughter. How did you even find us?”

“I was interested in getting to know my daughter a little bit better,” Eloise replied, that too pleasant voice still grating on Emma’s last nerve. “I’ll certainly be seeing you all very soon.”

Emma felt Alice’s quivering against her side, and she held the girl a little bit closer. “It’s okay,” she whispered, watching Eloise’s retreating form. “You’re okay…”

“Papa?” Alice asked gently, gingerly peeking her head around Emma. “Papa, is she really my mother?”

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly taking in the confused and devastated look from his daughter. His gaze met Emma’s, looking for a courage or absolution, she wasn’t sure quite which. But she was more than happy to grant it to him.

She certainly was no stranger to shitty exes.

So she nodded and gave him a small smile, doing her best to communicate with him that it was okay, that they would work through this new trial together.

Killian exhaled calmly, and a little smile crossed his face as well.

When they got home, Alice and Killian went to Alice’s room to talk privately.

“Shouldn’t this be a family conversation?” Henry asked worriedly. “What if she comes back when Alice and I are at school or something?”

“It is not our place to demand to be a part of that conversation,” Emma said patiently. “If Neal came back, do you think you’d want Alice to know right away or would you rather talk to me first?”

“I’d definitely want to talk just us first,” Henry admitted. “But I’d still want to tell Alice.”

“I think she will,” Emma laughed softly, kissing his head. “Just give her some time. It’s…it’s hard for her.”

“So what can I do, Mom?” Henry asked, his gaze flickering to Alice’s closed door. “Alice is my best friend, she’s practically my sister. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do this by yourself.”

She proudly smiled at her son, her heart near fit to burst. Henry’s acceptance of Killian only reaffirmed that he would make a fantastic older brother to his new brother or sister when the time came. “They really are our family, aren’t they?” she asked softly.

Henry nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice of you to catch up,” he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. The joy faded for a moment when he added, “But seriously, Mom? How am I supposed to help her?”

Emma reached across the table to hold her son’s hand. “I think you just ask her how you can best support her and follow her lead. She’ll tell you whatever she’s ready to tell. And if she doesn’t want to talk about it and not want to think about it, then you can distract her and make her feel better.”

Henry thought over this advice before hugging her again. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, kid,” Emma said softly, kissing his head as she cupped the back of it. “You know you’ll always be number one in my life?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Henry said. “But I can make room for some other people if need be.”

“Good,” Killian replied softly. “The Jones are quite so lucky to be loved by the Swans.”

She was so focused in giving Henry advice that she didn’t even see Killian enter the room until Henry got up to hug him tightly. Killian squeezed him before adding roughly, “Alice is playing Smash Brothers if you want to go play with her.”

Henry dashed off, leaving the two adults in the room alone.

Killian was quiet for a moment before he gently pulled Emma into his arms. “I don’t think I tell you what a good job you’ve done with him on your own,” he told her softly against her hair. “He’s an incredible young lad and his heart is so big…he’s really become such an incredible man without the presence of Neal…”

“He’s so lucky to have men like David and you in his life,” Emma murmured, wrapping her arms around him to give him all the comfort he could want. She held him for a moment longer before asking, “So, how can I best support you, Killian?” He took in a shuddering breath and she squeezed him.

“Whatever your history with that woman is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Emma promised softly against his skin. “You know I’m always going to see the best in you.”

“And I you,” Killian promised, kissing the top of her hair. “Can we…can we go to the couch?” he asked and she nodded, gently pulling him along to the living room. She sat, and looked back at Killian and tilted her head as he watched her appraisingly. “Are you feeling better? The kids were saying you were poorly.”

“If we’re gonna do some sharing, I can share after,” Emma said, her heartbeat picking up again as she thought about telling him about her pregnancy.

Killian sat across the couch from her and gently took his hand in hers. “I…I was young. Just broken up with Milah and just…not wanting to deal with the pain of losing her. So I was a bit…promiscuous, thinking it would just make it stop hurting.”

“I’m sure you never ran in short supply,” Emma teased lightly, just wanting to see the smile back in his eyes.

He huffed a laugh and gave her a small but cheeky smile. “Aye, my partners certainly never complained except if they were telling me not to stop.” She smiled and gently squeezed his hand again. “And one night I met Eloise at the bar.”

He stopped, looking down again. Her thumb gently dragged across his knuckles and she waited for him to speak again. She didn’t say anything, just kept the drag of her thumb across his knuckles consistent.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Killian sighed. “I thought I’d made it clear that I didn’t want anything beyond a one night stand. But she kept coming to the bar. Or my coffee shop and…and she was a distraction. We didn’t do much talking. And it felt good…”

“But she kept pushing your boundaries and you were so hurt, and she made you forget that you hurt that it didn’t seem important to reinforce them,” Emma blurted out, guessing the story. His eyebrow raised a little and he pulled her into his lap with a strained laugh. “Trust me, babe,” she replied. “How do you think I ended up with Neal?”

Killian nuzzled her shoulder for a moment, as if to soothe the sting of the past. “It gets worse,” he admitted quietly. “She…she kept seeking me out to get pregnant on purpose. So she could trap me with her.”

“Oh my god,” Emma breathed in deeply, looking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Alice didn’t hear that part. “How did you get out with Alice?”

“A few weeks after Alice was born, I came home and she was just…gone. She left a note saying she wouldn’t be bound any longer and good luck,” Killian said wryly. “Little did she know that she gave me the greatest blessing of my life and it led me to the second greatest blessing of my life.”

“Granny’s?” Emma teased weakly, resting her head against his.

“Aye,” he laughed, kissing her shoulder. “Granny’s.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and her entire body seemed to relax in his hold. Even her nausea seemed to settle, knowing that he was here and holding her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, love?”

Suddenly Emma’s whole world crashed down her ears, and her old wounds came kicking and screaming to the surface. She couldn’t possibly tell him right on the heels of that. What if he really wouldn’t be happy about having another baby? What if he thought she was trapping him just like Eloise did with him?

“Just that, um, I might take a personal day tomorrow so if you wanted to take Alice out of school, she and I can have a girl’s day,” Emma said softly, curling into him, hating how her nausea had returned full force.

Killian stilled, eying her again. After a moment, he seemed satisfied with what she’s said and relaxed as he held her close to his chest. “I love you, Emma,” he murmured softly. “So much.”

“Yeah,” Emma replied hollowly. “I love you too.”

Emma made sure to make Alice’s favorite breakfast—sunny side up eggs with a side of scrambled toast and orange marmalade—before the girl woke. She even made a plate for herself, delighted that her future child would give her something to eat.

When Alice walked into the room, her eyes lit up at the breakfast. “Is this for me?” she asked excitedly.

Emma laughed. “Of course. I figured you’d like your favorite breakfast on your day off,” she said, pushing the plate toward Alice.

“Your stomach seems to enjoy the marmalade,” Alice giggled. “I told you marmalade is great!”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Emma said fondly. “Well, today is your day and we can do whatever you want?”

“Whatever?” Alice asked hopefully, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Anything I want?”

“Yeah, it’s a self-care day!” Emma laughed. “So you tell me what you want to do today and we’ll do it!”

“Can we go to the library?” Alice seemed to get more excited by the minute. “And then the bakery?”

“You got it, star,” Emma said softly, grinning fondly. “And if you wanna talk, that’s okay. And if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to do that either.”

The use of her nickname made Alice pause, picking nervously at her crust. “Emma?” she asked softly. “If…if Eloise becomes part of my life…am I still your star?”

“Of course,” Emma replied without any hesitation. “You’re my star, and yo—I mean Eloise can’t take that away from us. And just because she gave birth to you doesn’t mean she has to be part of your life if you don’t want her to be.”

“Will you get jealous if I do?” Alice asked quietly, still picking at the crust of her toast.

“I mean, I’ll miss you if you choose to spend more time with her,” Emma said honestly. “I like hanging out with you. Video game nights with you and Henry are my favorite. But also…if this is what’s going to make you happy, then of course I’m going to support you.” She leaned over and tapped Alice’s nose. “Besides…you have your father’s heart. I know you have plenty of love in your heart.”

Alice looked at her, the same way Killian had the night before. And then she gently leaned over to hug Emma tightly. “I love you, Emma,” the girl promised.

Emma would definitely blame the pregnancy hormones for the way she teared up and held Alice even closer to her. “I love you too,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait to spend the day with you, star. Should we go to the library first?”

“Yeah!” Alice said excitedly and bounded out of the room with unbridled enthusiasm.

Emma worked on getting dressed, pausing only once to run her hand over her bump, before heading out with Alice. She was relieved to see Alice’s viviacious spirit returned as Alice talked about all the books she wanted to read, what books she’d been waiting for, and what books the girls in her class were reading.

They were only a few blocks away when Emma had the strangest feeling something was wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eloise following them, but Emma made sure that she kept Alice close.

She wasn’t entirely sure why Eloise was so close, and she hoped it was a coincidence. The lack of formal channels or communications made her nervous and Emma was worried about making a wrong move.

“Emma, can we go to the second floor first?” Alice asked, gently tugging on her hand. “That’s where are the old books are!”

“Lead the way,” Emma chuckled warmly. She made sure to duck around some shelves when they entered to see if Eloise was still following them. When Emma didn’t see her on the second floor, she let out quick sigh of relief, and watched Alice scamper down the aisle.

And then something collided with the back of her head and everything went black.

Emma had the faintest memory of weakly calling for Alice, for her daughter, faces swimming around her while her hand stayed firmly around Alice’s and then everything went dark again.

But she knew she was in a hospital bed now, she recognized the beep of the machines anywhere.

“Of course I want to bloody press charges!” Killian’s voice was a little too loud, but she was thankful that he was there. If he was with her, it meant Alice and Henry were safe. “She hurt Emma! She was going to kidnap Alice!”

He sighed, deflating a little bit at whatever response David gave him. “Yes, I can bring her down tomorrow to be interviewed. Emma is gonna need some rest…your detectives will have to come here, as Emma’s under observation for another day or too…”

Emma forced her eyes open and gently squeezed his hand. Killian’s head snapped toward her and his eyes filled with tears. “She’s waking up. Tell Alice and Henry that we love them so much and it’s all going to be just fine. Yeah. I’ll speak to your later Dave.” Emma couldn’t even get a breath in edgewise before Killian frantically pressed his lips to hers. “Hey,” she rasped softly. “I’m okay.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian choked out. “Eloise is my…but I still…and then the doctor told me that you…” His eyes searched hers and he realized. “That’s what you wanted to tell me yesterday, wasn’t it? That’s why you were ill…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. “I was so scared that after seeing Eloise you’d think I was trying to trap you in a life with me.”

“Emma,” Killian whispered softly, crushing his forehead against hers. “How could you possibly think that I’d be trapped in any kind of life with you? I love you more than anything besides our children.”

“Old wounds,” she replied softly. “Between the first time I did this alone and Eloise making an untimely reappearance I just…my fear got the best of me. I figured I could wait until things settled down before telling you…I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

He laughed wetly, gently pebbling her face with kisses. “Emma…you are such an extraordinary woman. My ex attacks you, and you’re still apologizing to me.”

“You do deserve an apology,” Emma said tiredly. “I hurt you but in a different way…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Killian promised. “You were trying to protect yourself from being hurt, and I’ll be honest…if you told me last night, I would’ve had a meltdown.” He nudged his nose gently to hers before kissing her cheek. “But if it means that much…you’re forgiven, love. I’m just so happy you and the babe are safe.”

“How are the kids?” Emma asked weakly. “How did Alice get away?”

“She started screaming bloody murder when she saw it happen,” he explained, his fingers dancing gently across Emma’s skin with the utmost love and reverence, and maybe to reassure himself she was still there. “And the librarian knew you were her mother, rather than Eloise who tried to tell the police that her daughter was having a psychotic break.”

Emma sat up abruptly, torn between the desire to find her daughter and comfort her and find Eloise and just start swinging. Killian seemed to read her mind and gently placed his hand on her shoulder so she’d rest again.

“So just to make sure…you’re okay with having a baby with me?” Emma asked.

“As if flowers mind the summer sun,” Killian replied tenderly.

“Well, technically too much sun tries up the flowers and—” He silenced her with a kiss that had her smiling against his lips. “Point taken.”

“Should we start thinking of names?”

But it was Alice and Henry who had named their little sister when she came into the world seven months later. They named her after the thing that they always got from being with one another: Hope.

#csjj #csjj2021 #blaire's writing

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henryobsessed · 4 years

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I Took You Home - Mutual Admiration

Summary: Reba has just found out she’s entertaining Charles Brandon her favorite TV Character

Word count: 1400

A/N Ok so this is fiction, and all that jazz but I wanted him to be a fan of Reba's too so they could be mutually invested rather than it just being her lol.

Previous Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Reba was amazed and horrified all in the same breath, how had she not recognized him. For most of her young adult life, she had fantasized about Charles Brandon but never really looked into who the actor was. As a writer, she was more interested in the characters of the stories rather than the people who played them. She looked at Henry now and with the day-old stubble growing on his face she could plainly see it was him. Catching herself staring she blushed as she saw Henry's face break out into a smile. He chuckled at her and said "Well at least you have seen one of my projects" It's true that Reba didn't get to watch much tv she read a lot of books and if she wasn't reading she was typing her own books, more so now than ever.

His shoulders seemed to relax more as he rested into the couch, it must have been annoying her not knowing his work. Thinking back to his statement about his tv projects the last one caught her attention; an excitement began bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she asked "Did you just say The Witcher was a project? Not the same Witcher that was written by 'The Andrzej Sapkowski'?" Surprise registered in Henry's eyes at her comment as she continued "He's one of my favourite fantasy fiction writers along with CS Lewis and Tolkien." Henry nodded with approval as he said "Yes, the one and only. If you have Netflix maybe we can watch the first episode while my, ummmm clothes dry, would love to see what you think"

Blushing at the reference to his boxers Reba looked for her remote as she hummed her agreement. While she was looking through her Netflix for the Witcher Henry queried "So Reba what do you do?" finding the series she set it up to start but before she hit play she looked back at Henry replying to his question "I'm a writer" this made Henry sit up, curiosity crossing his face "do you write under your name or a pseudonym?" now feeling self-conscious Reba started to fidget with the control, she looked down and said into her lap "I use a pseudonym I don't like people to know who I am." Looking back to Henry to gauge his reaction she was pleased to see understanding on his face as he responded "I get that, sometimes I wish I could be anonymous too. Can I ask what your pen name Is?"

Unsure, but willing to be open with another fellow creative Reba said ruefully "Thomas Magi" she figured that Henry would laugh at her using a male name, but instead she saw the shock on his face followed but a blush that crept from his neck up to his cheekbones, stuttering "N..No way, you're my favourite author" He said nothing more after that, it was almost like he was stunned into silence. Reba could not believe he had even read her work let alone that she was his favourite author. Seeming to recover Henry asked in a whispered awe "Can I possibly read something your working on? Just a chapter?" laughing to herself she stood and walked to her desk and grabbed her laptop which was open to an opening chapter of the third book of a trilogy. She figured he might need proof that she was who she said she was so this was the best way to prove it.

Handing the laptop to Henry she watched him tentatively as he read, seeing concentration, then amazement, then she lost him. Not a sound was uttered for 20min as he read, then he looked up at her an odd look on his face "you weren't kidding, this is really yours" Reba laughed out loud at the statement. He must have thought she was joking, at her nod Henry's face broke out into a smile "I can't believe Thomas Magi took me home" laughing out loud now he continued to gush "And I got to read the opening to my favourite trilogy this is turning out to be an awesome weekend." Reba could not believe what she was hearing, surely her favourite character was not just saying that she was his favourite author.

"You really like my books?" Reba asked as if to get confirmation of what he had already said sitting up now leaning forward his face animated Henry confirmed "Yes Reba, these are my favourite books. I have been following your work for years. I have every one of your collection at home." Testing the waters she asked, "so what do you think of the chapter, taking into consideration it has not had an edit yet?" Henry stood up then and Reba blushed as she saw that the towel had slipped below his hips showing off the tops of his beautifully round glutes. He paced around the room for a moment before turning back. A serious face as he gave a serious answer "You have created a beautiful fantasy world, and each character is so well developed that the moment I started to read I knew them. It was like coming home to a familiar environment and even though it was unedited I got lost in their world within the first few paragraphs. Truly Reba, when I need to de-stress it's your books I escape into."

Wanting to take to focus off herself Reba turned back to the tv "well why don't we see what you and your fellow colleagues have done to my favourite book series." Henry must have caught on that she was uncomfortable and returned to the couch, as the opening scene played on the tv she moved to get more comfortable until Henry's gravelly voice interrupted "why don't you come here it will be more comfortable and warmer" there was a smile behind the question as she looked to him his arm open and inviting wondering if she was sane or not but remembering his warmth from last night Reba repeated to her self what could it hurt, nodded and moved over to sit into the crook of his arm. He was right, it was comfortable and warmer plus his scent was heavenly. As she settled into watching the episode his arm settled over her shoulder and she heard though his chest a deep sigh as they began watching The Witcher.

"The Girl in the woods is your Destiny" The final scene played out as the credits began to roll Reba paused it knowing that it would just roll into the next episode and really she wanted to continue but Henry had only said one. Knowing what she was like rereading her work she wondered if Henry felt the same. Not wanting to leave her now warm cocoon she heard rather than saw his question as he asked "so...... what did you think?" She shut her eyes for a moment and hummed to show she was thinking then sat up so she could face him. "Well, I can say I liked what you did with Geralt. I would have liked a bit more dialogue but for the moment I think its building his character well." This bought a smile to his face which she had to admit she was really liking. Knowing the next comment might remove the smile she hesitated.

"But..... don't try to hide it, Reba, I can see them, the but's written all over your face" she chuckled was she so easy to read. "But the story writer has butchered all the short stories. It's like she's taken some lines from one story and spliced them into another, and not just once she's done it over and over again." Quietly laughing to himself he pulled her back into his side and reached for the remote "Yes but she had to put two books into the first series otherwise it would not flow" allowing herself to be comfortable in his arms she replied "and what's with all the jumping backwards and forwards. If you missed the conversational cues as to the timeline you would be lost" she felt his laughter rumble through his chest "they had to do that so the three main characters could link up by season two. Lauren has really developed Yennefer and Cirilla's backstories. Why don't we watch the rest I know you'll love it." Snuggling deeper into his side she agreed as the next episode started playing.

Next Chapter 5

Hope you are all doing well and would love some feedback.

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake @justrae9903 @willkatfanfromasia @daddys-littlewhitegirl @cavilladdict @lebguardians @theblondetumbleweed @snowbellexx @radaofrivia @geralttheewitcher @acdd22 @thullyana @fanfictionaddiction99 @beckythfc1882 @heyheyharry @sauve-et-libre @shy-violet-soul @elliepower @msamericanrebel @minion-of-the-lord @xxxkatxo @oh-for-fic-sake @omgkatinka @pterodactylterrace @ruthoakenshield @inanna999 @libbymouse @witcherfan @enchantedbyhiddles

#itookyouhome #henry cavil x ofc #HenryCavill #drunk!henry

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imbellarosa · 3 years

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Bella’s 20 books of 2020! Thanks to @thewestishharpooners who largely reignited my love for reading this year. I mean I knew HOW to read, I learned in school, but I re learned how to LOVE it adkjfld but ANYWAYS!

The Magicians Trilogy by Lev Grossman (yes. I know. this is three, but it’s lovely!!! the first one is slightly annoying re: the characters, but they LEARN and they GROW, and it feels so REAL, like I know them, like I *am* them)

Beartown by Fredrick Backman. Have I talked about this one enough?? I don’t think I have. It’s LOVELY and gritty and REAL in the best and the worst ways. It reminds me of growing up in a small town. Lovely, lovely. It’s sequel is great too!

My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrick Backman. For anyone who ever loved the real fairy tales - hard and sad and full of lessons and found love and family.

Turn Around, Bright Eyes by Rob Sheffield. I read this one at the beginning of quarantine after I realized that it was a sequel to one I LOVED a few years ago. If you like listening to soft love stories about the way music heals and how the way we love matters more than how good we are, this one is IT!

Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett. A little girl just wants to be a wizard. No, rather, she IS a wizard, and would like for the world to understand that. How hard can that be? Lovely and sharp, and the perfect one to tune into during a run

The Storied Life of AJ Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin. This is another story about finding family, and the stories we tell ourselves. AJ runs a bookshop on an island after the death of his wife. His most precious book gets stolen, and, as a result, he finds a new beginning

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas. I actually read this one on a rec from here and BOY am I glad I did. I just. I don’t have any words for this one except if you LOVE “Aristotle and Dante”, this is the book for youuu

Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. History, huh? It lives up to the hype. Just read it.

I Wrote This For You and its sequel by Iain S Thomas on @queenlokibeth‘s recommendation. Love notes for love lost, love found, and the love which remains, always. Added bonus: you can imagine these being the type of notes left around for anyone to find!

Less by Andrew Sean Greer. This makes the list ONLY because my little cousin recced it to me. If you liked Eat Pray Love I think you’ll like this one too. I was not super enthralled by the story but I adore the person who recommended it to me so.

Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell. If you like “I wrote this for you”, try this one next! The poems are sad, and they’re sweet, and you knew them complete, when you wore a younger man’s clothes....

The House by the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. Magic, madness, heaven, sin. And love. That’s it, that’s the book, it’s lovely and Important without ever being tragic.

Normal People by Sally Rooney. Idk why I liked this one but I read it in one sitting. I think it has something to do with the idea that people can stay with you forever without being together forever.

Trigger Warning by @neil-gaiman . This might be my favorite anthology of short stories EVER, but the one that really put it over that line is “The Case of Death and Honey”. Bees and love and Sherlock Holmes? Yes Please!

Nowhere Near You by @cuttoothom. I’d read this before but it has to make this list ANYWAYS because of the way it discusses heart, and love, and how the best love stories are the ones that are rooted in friendship and mutual respect and trust. Also mutant teenage kids and found family. It’s the second book in the series, but it’s my favorite of the two!

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman. American Gods was fine, but this one is AMAZING! It’s a kids book rooted in norse mythology with talking bears and foxes and owls and far off quests and an odd boy named Odd.

For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf by Ntozake Shange. It’s a heavy read, of course, but powerful, and it’s a good look into the way that so many of us struggle with our own needs versus what the world demands of us versus what our culture demands of us. I liked it a lot, and I saw myself in it, which is perhaps the most important part

The Enigma of the Return by Danny LaFerriere. Another heavy read about grief, history, and homecomings. One day, I will go home for this reason, as so many of us will, and this story outlines the legacies that we children of immigrants carry.

Alice’s Adventured in Wonderland by CS Lewis . I love fairy tales. Have you notice this trend?? Anyways this is another re read but I read it at the start of quarantine as I was slowly descending into madness and it felt appropriate

My Policeman by Bethan Roberts but ONLY because 1.) it’s how I made friends with @thewestishharpooners and 2.) THERE WAS SO MUCH TALK ABOUT IT ON MY DASH!! It was a Big Book this year, but it’s a sad story, and an unequivocal condemnation of that society. Still, I’m pretty over tragedies at this pointttttt so i won’t be rereading it. It DOES have an ambiguous/happy ending though, if anyone cares!

#long post for ts #i say things #my books!#i liked some of this list better than others and read some more that didn't make it on this list #but i feel like this is pretty comprehensive and a solid book rec list for the most part!

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aworldofyou · 3 years

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🔥🔥🔥 (yes, that's three opinions; hit me and make 'em gooood)

SENT FOR UNPOPULAR OPINION / never denying the salt @iniziare

[ AGGRESSIVE WINK AT YOU MY SALT SISTER ]

🔥 - Now I am going to say one of my age old salts that Tumblr needs to desperate hear from a native american, and remember. Never forget that I, am as native as native can be. Okay. Are ready for it? I am going to have a serious fit in real life if I see one more person trying to say the words ‘anyone who doesn’t write or portray Katniss Everdeen as a native american is racist.’ because first of all. I hate gatekeeping, it drives me up a damn wall every time I see tumblr go off on a rampage about Katniss Everdeen. Yes, Jennifer Lawrence may not have been the best casting, but you know what? The books are really vague on how Katniss looks, all it says is that she - like Gale, has black hair and olive colored skin. This doesn’t mean she is POC, no. It means that she has a goddamn tan. You know what happens when you spend your life outside all the time hunting and foraging? YOU GET A NATURAL TAN. It’s what happens to skin colors raging across the world. This is like the Ezio Auditore arguement where people liked to point the fingers and go ‘he’s a poc’ no, he isn’t. He is in from Florence in Italy, and he - like Katniss has olive color skinned by BEING IN THE SUN. And you know what happens in AC Revelations? He stops being in the sun, and so his skin - because of it stopped with the tan. Because guess what- *GRABS THE MICROPHONE AND LEANS OVER THE TABLE TO SPEAK RIGHT INTO IT* WHITE PEOPLE TAN TOO.

So yes, no - Katniss Everdeen is not a native american, and I really wish Tumblr would stop gatekeeping that false fact. There are characters in the Hunger Game Series that I do think might have been native american (Thresh and Rue), but like Katniss, it really wasn’t specified exactly, so I really do like the casting they did in the movies.

🔥 - Speaking of tumblr as a whole, I really don’t like this anti-Tolkien kick that everyone has been on lately. That of which is including the movies and the original books. Tolkien is a mastermind, his work changed fantasy as we knew it at the time, and inspired many of the works we know today. His works were inspired by his experiences in WWI, and were originally meant to be bed time stories for his kids, and he was best friends with CS Lewis, who insisted that he continue to write it all down. Tolkien wrote the Hobbit, in get this, 1932. For the times we have to remember the norms before we go and try to judge him for anything in his works. (Even though I don’t agree with judging an author on FANTASY SETTINGS), and he wasn’t racist for writing the times that he wrote in it and not including visible POC.

Let me say that again, HIS WORKS WERE BASED OFF OF HIS OWN EXPERIENCES IN WWI, and if we want to get into technicalities he had a scholarship in GERMANIC PHILOGY. Which is the oral keeping of germanic history before there was text, and not to mention the entirety of the Lord of the Rings was inspired by older fantasy works, and that which surrounding EUROPEAN HISTORY.

If anything, it could be argued that instead of ignorantly trying to write in other religions and cultures that he didn’t know, he stuck to what he did know. Which is a helluva lot more respectful than most modern authors. So yes, no, I don’t agree with this anit-Tolkien rampage that all of Tumblr seems to be setting itself in. I love Tolkien, I grew up on Lord of The Rings, I adore the movies, and this fact is not changing anytime soon.

🔥 - I feel like too many people put too much pressure on themselves to make an individual muse blog when a muse takes over their multimuse. Multimuses has this overwhelming reputation for complicated works, or for some reason people think that people need to give all the muses equal ammount of attention, or if one is meant to take over it, then right now it should be moved to their own blogs. When no, not’s really not like that, or shouldn’t be like that. Multimuses are here to make ourselves happy without he clutter of having to worry about switching between a bunch of single muse blogs, and if one muse is dominating the blog? that’s perfectly alright, the rest can wait until it’s there turn. You don’t HAVE to make single blog for a single muse if its taking up too much space.

There seems to be this idea of so much - PRESSURE that is added onto having a multi muse, when really it’s just about finding your own pace for your own things, and just taking a moment to inhale, and exhale, and figure out what works for YOU and your system on YOUR multi muse, and sticking to it.

#[ out of character. ] a raft fit for a queen #[ out of character. ] salt time. hold my hot cheetos.#iniziare

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frankensteindotpdf · 4 years

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i get the feeling CS Lewis was told off for encouraging kids to shut themselves in wardrobes because he’s literally said “she didnt close the door because she knew it was a very foolish thing to do” 5 times

#i speak #narnia

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Review 1 of 2

I don’t normally post about a book when I’m only halfway through, but I just have so many conflicting emotions about this book that I poured words into my journal the other day about it. I’m going to share those thoughts with you because this book is making me FEEL things.

This is a novel (ie fiction) about Joy Davidman, most famous for marrying CS Lewis. His intense grief upon her death resulted in the book A Grief of Observed (which I have read and . . . there are just no words for the raw emotion of that book!)

I thought about re-writing and revising what poured out of me the other day, but I decided just to give you my raw emotional response so far to this book. This is gonna get long, so there’s more below the cut. I’m also going to include some excerpts from the book that have blown me away so far. Those will be at the very end. So here goes:

This book I’m reading about Joy Davidman has me thinking a lot. She longed to be known. She wanted someone to love and appreciate her mind, her intellect. CS Lewis did. {from now on, I will refer to him as “Jack” because that’s what Joy called him} I struggle because . . . was their letter writing wrong because she was married? The author had to imagine their letters because Jack and Joy destroyed them before she died. Why did they destroy them? Was this an affair?

Yet at the same time, I so identify with her as I read! I know it’s fiction, but much is based in fact. She WAS a writer, like me. I’m not as opinionated as she was, not as brash and bold (okay, not brash and bold at all), and I’m definitely not as brilliant. (She graduated from high school at NINE! Had a college degree at SIXTEEN! She spoke like four or five languages, including ancient Greek and Latin.)

So yeah, I admire her. Despite history throwing her under the bus. Like she was a crazy stalker or something. But Jack INVITED her to Oxford, first of all. Secondly, she was there for her health for a month before she went to see him. Plus, you can’t tell me historians aren’t biased when she was SO counter cultural to how women were supposed to act in the 1950s. Plus, she had a husband who was an alcoholic, prone to violence, who verbally abused her, and cheated on her constantly. But yeah, she was a crazy stalker seductress for escaping to England to befriend a man who was kind to her and admired her intellect.

All of Lewis’s friends hated her, too, except for his brother, but she was a loud, opinionated American divorcee with a heavy New York accent. Not to mention seventeen years younger than CS Lewis. (He was in his fifties, she her thirties - not that scandalous age wise, seriously!) Why would his male, academic, British friends like her? Of course they wouldn’t!

While I don’t understand, as a mother, how she could leave her children for so many months and not be with them at Christmas or their birthdays, in other ways I do get her as a mom. She was considered a poor mother by 50s standards. She was awful at keeping house and keeping up with the mending. But she read to her boys constantly, she dug in the dirt with them, went “adventuring” with them in the woods, and laid on a blanket under the night sky to look at the stars. I’m the same way. I’d rather be with my kids than just take care of the house. And, like her, when I get a spare moment, I choose to write, not do housework.So, like her, my house is usually messy. But for me, that’s socially acceptable. For her, it wasn’t.

Jack thought she was a great writer, but I can’t say that for myself since I’ve never read her stuff. I had no idea she wrote so much! Sadly most of it is out of print now. I already looked for her novel Weeping Bay with no luck, but I’m going to try to find her other stuff. She apparently also helped Jack write Till We Have Faces, which I’ve been meaning to read and want to even more now. (Some say she should have been listed as co-author.)

Anyway, it just makes you wonder - would she have been such a controversial figure or so hated if she had lived in a different era? There is so much more to her than I ever knew! There’s so much gray in her relationship with Jack, and it’s challenging me. Yet it also makes them more human.

Some of my favorite passages so far (the book is written in first person from Joy’s point of view):

“Dr. Cohen, the gray-haired family doctor with glasses as thick as windshields, visited the house one afternoon and sat at my bedside with his stethoscope dangling and his weedy eyebrows bending toward each other. He directed his words to Bill as if the illnesses had left me invisible. ‘Your wife must get some rest now.’

His wife. My definition now. I was the object of someone else’s life now instead of the subject of my own.”

“The sticky, primordial aroma of sex overwhelmed my senses, making me dizzy. If only the pain meds could dull the pain of betrayal. ‘Where have you been?’ My voice rose, exhausted but steady.

‘Hey,” he [her first husband Bill] said softly, ‘don’t be angry. This has nothing to do with how much I love you, Poogle. Can’t you see that? A man’s needs must be met, and you’re in no condition to meet those needs. I’m just trying to be kind, give you a chance to heal while I recharge my batteries.’

‘Who was it this time?’ My question was a whisper, a last breath.”

“Must I settle for the trouble that was mine? A life of disappointment and anger, alcohol, and despair with Bill.”

“He can’t hear me, Jack. When I get upset, he asks if I’m on my period or if my shoes hurt. And then he launches into his ten million excuses.”

There was another passage I love where she’s trying to tell Bill how her writing is going, but he barely listens then asks her for what’s for dinner. She says “I don’t know” and drops her head to the table “weary of it all.” I forgot to mark it - but I felt that passage to the depth of my being!

#melanie reads #becoming mrs lewis review #part one #feminism #women in the 50s

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myaekingheart · 6 years

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All of them for the writing asks 😁😁😁

HOLY CRAP HONESTLY THANK YOU xD

Writer Asks

Was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? Or did it spring up when your older? Or is it just a hobby? I’ve always been a writer, regardless of whether I necessarily knew it at the time. I’ve shuffled through some other career ideas– when I was little, I wanted to be a veterinarian, and then in middle school I liked the idea of modeling– but at the end of the day, writing is what I always came back to. I used to come up with elaborate storylines when I played with my Barbies and hog the computer on Microsoft Word making shitty stories that I’d print out and staple together and draw covers for. I don’t think I really considered it a viable career at the time, but now I know that writing is what I’m meant to with my life above all else and that if I lose every other opportunity that comes my way, I’ll be fine so long as I can still write.

Overall, would you say you are more driven by plot or characters in writing? (What makes you more excited about an idea?) I think, truthfully, a little of both. I love thinking of cool ideas and ways that my characters will fit into them. It’s exciting to think of their lives and the things that can happen to them that will make or break them. I love seeing my characters happy and getting what they want, but I also love when things don’t go their way and when something completely breaks them. The torture is fun to see. I am sadistic.

Give an overview/description of some of your past stories. (Only if you are willing, of course!) Oh god, okay, so I have a couple. There was this one story when I was a little kid that I came up with, I forget the name of it, but the basic premise was that there was this disease and you turned every color of the rainbow ROYGBIV style and then when you reached violet, you died. I had another one I was working on fifth grade called “The War of Sacawragi” that I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about, but I remember rambling about it to my friends one day at lunch and being all hyped about it. Maybe it had to do with a refugee woman fleeing a war-torn country with her baby, or to protect her unborn baby, or something like that? I never finished it, and I lost what I did write when my computer at the time broke, but I don’t know. I don’t think I totally care that it’s gone? Maybe one day I’ll revisit the idea, but for now I don’t really care.

INSPIRATION. What inspires you the most?Images, music, movies. Sometimes history and mythology. A plethora of things.

Do you have an idea for a story you don’t feel you can write at this current time? (Whether it be because life is busy right now, you need to do more research, etc.) I have a couple ideas for stuff I want to write, but I just don’t feel the motivation to quite yet. It’s tough, because I’m deep into writing From Upon the Golden Thrones (my Narnia fanfic) and focusing so much on the following sequels of that that I feel like I don’t want to start anything original until I finish that. Which sucks because I know original work is what’s going to bring home the bacon and shit but I just care so much about this goddamn fucking fanfiction that I cannot get it out of my head. Plus, I feel like I’m at a spot in my life right now where pouring more energy into writing fanfiction is acceptable because I’m in college rather than out in the working world depending on churning out original stories to earn a living. Once I graduate college, I’m terrified I won’t be finished with these Narnia stories and will have to give them up for the sake of focusing on my career, which makes me incredibly sad because as stupid as it may sound, I have never cared about any of the other stories I’ve written (original or otherwise) as much as I care about this fucking fanfic.

Favorite POV to write in? (As in First, Third, or maybe a specific character?)I really like third person omniscient. I used to write almost exclusively in first person but I felt like that was really restrictive to me. I like the way third person omniscient feels like playing God– you know exactly what everyone is doing, where they are, how they are feeling, but the characters don’t know shit and it’s kind of fun to fuck them up like that. It’s fun to know stuff they don’t. Plus, I really like paying attention to everyone’s take on a situation. I like delving into their internal monologues when something happens, good or bad, and how they interpret those situations. I like my readers to know what’s going on in my character’s heads and how they view the world compared to one another.

Favorite writers? Have they influenced you at all? Obviously CS Lewis is a fave. I just love the way he was able to interpolate scripture into fantasy. I’m not a wildly religious person but Narnia is the closest thing I’ve felt I’ve come to religion in my adult life, like Narnia makes me feel a particular way that nothing has ever made me feel before. I think that is also in part to my Irish heritage, and knowing much of Lewis’s inspiration for the landscapes of his book was inspired by his homeland. I actually wrote an entire essay about this for one of my classes last semester. I’ve never really been as big a fanatic of any other writers as I am with CS Lewis, much in the same way as I approach my music tastes-- I more often than not like particular songs rather than whole bands. Much like Nirvana and Beartooth is to my music taste, CS Lewis is the one artist whose work I am a wild fan of (even if the only other work of his that I’ve read outside of Narnia is Out of the Silent Planet).

If one cliche could be eradicated from writing, which one would you pick?The idea that everything has to be romance, and that every romance has to be a certain way. I like the stereotypical chick flicks as much as the next woman but I like complicated love that waxes and wanes. I like love that has a purpose, that at it’s core is hopeful but that rips your insides apart and makes you realize things about your life you never knew before. I like love that is based on more than just the superficial things. Situational love, childish love, war-torn love, all of that good shit. I prefer love that is real and raw and it hurts because it pays no mind to caution in the literary sense. I’m tired of the love we always see in YA lit where everything is meant to be poetic and flowery. Give me blood and sweat and tears. Give me something that’s real. That’s the kind of love I enjoy reading.

Favorite cliche or trope? I like the comedic stuff a lot, like funny misunderstandings. I wrote one into the last posted chapter on my fanfic that I was pretty disgustingly pleased with. I’m really bad at writing comedy but I try. I don’t know if this is necessarily a cliche or a trope, either, but I adore bildungsromans. I live for character development.

Do you have to force yourself to write, or is it something you want to do? Half and half. I feel like my will to write exists on a spectrum. On one end, there is the idealistic mix of motivation and inspiration where I sit down and the words just flow out of my fingertips and when I look back at these chapters, I typically have to do very little editing because I was so deep in the zone and so focused on what I wanted to write and I did that. On the opposite end is the numbness of feeling zero motivation and zero inspiration. It’s like sex-- I’m just not turned on and not thinking about sex whatsoever. And that’s fine. You don’t need to write 24/7. The worst is when I fall somewhere in the middle, which is where I am most often. I either have all the inspiration and no motivation or all the motivation and no inspiration. Most frequently it’s the former. I think about my current story constantly and yet more often than not, I never have the strength to open up the word document and actually work on it. This has been especially true this past month, when I went on a three day writing binge and wrote eight chapters only to find on day four that the file got corrupted and I lost all of my work.

Share a passage from one of your works and tell us why you liked it so much. Oh god, this is dangerous. One of my favorites is a scene in Chapter 12 of From Upon the Golden Thrones, but it’s too long to copy and paste here so instead I’m going to use a passage from Chapter 9 instead: As night swept across Narnia, the bad dreams took hold once again. Eilonwy’s breath hitched, tossing and turning as fearful visions paraded through her head. Peter snapped awake the moment he heard so much as a whimper, climbing onto the edge of her bed to try and soothe her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, brimming with tears, hands trembling wildly. “It’s okay, Ellie, everything’s alright. It was just a bad dream” he whispered, petting her hair. She shook her head and burst into tears. “It never ends…” she whined, burying her face beneath a mountain of pillows. “I want to go home!” “Ellie, shh, you are home” Peter replied but the huntress shook her head in great protest. “This isn’t home, this is hell!” she screamed. With a sudden jolt, she sat upright and began throwing pillows left and right. “Eilonwy, stop! Please!” Peter begged but she refused. She launched pillow after pillow into the wall, toward the window, knocking things off her vanity and even cracking it’s glass. She kept going until the entire room was drenched in a blizzard of feathers. It wasn’t until the window creaked open and a soft breeze blew through that Eilonwy finally began to calm down. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the mattress and wept softly, tears staining her cheeks. Peter swatted at the downy rain, climbing into her bed and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She sighed and fell into him, far too tired to fight him off, and deeply inhaled the sweet smell of his skin. “It’s alright now…everything’s alright” he whispered, gently rocking her back and forth like an infant. “It never ends…” she repeated softly, her hot breath grazing Peter’s collarbone. Not knowing what else to say, he sat there in silence continuing to rock her and hug her tight in hopes that perhaps he could glue all of her broken pieces back together. As she slowly drifted back to sleep, however, a quiet murmur caught his attention and sent his heart soaring. In the softest tone imaginable, she breathed a quiet “I love you…” And finally, Peter received the confirmation he had been searching for. She officially loved him back just like he knew she did. I love this scene so much because it’s finally this breakthrough with the relationship between these two characters. In the entire first installment, they’re getting to know one another and learning about each other and experiencing these scary, foreign feelings and they’ve come so far since then at this point, and Peter wants nothing more than for her to reciprocate his feelings for her, and this is the scene where he finally gets it and he’s over the moon. As for Eilonwy, she really struggles with the whole concept of attachment and affection and so this is a really pivotal scene for her, as well, and one that affects both of them heavily long after it’s happened, both for better and for worse.

What is the worst writing advice in your opinion? I’m not sure this is even really advice but the worst, in my opinion, is the pressure to write literary fiction rather than genre fiction. Stick literary fiction up your ass and smoke it. I don’t give a shit. I’ve noticed more than anything that in my college writing classes thus far, there’s this desperation to drill literary fiction into our heads, to convince us that it is the only fiction of quality and that genre fiction is trash. I completely disagree. Genre fiction is so much more liberating. Shit actually happens in genre fiction. Yeah, some of it is cheesy and commercialized but to say genre fiction, especially genre fiction of today, is worthless is to completely disregard the amazing, accessible commentary it’s providing to people of all ages, socioeconomic statuses, races, genders, etc. Genre fiction is giving us characters we can relate to, characters that we see ourselves in whether they’re transgender or of color or struggle with the same mental illnesses we do. It can give us both an escape from reality and a comfort within it by showing us that we are not alone and that we can fight our demons just like the characters in these books do. So I say fuck your literary fiction. Genre fiction has given me far more than literary ever has.

What is the best writing advice? The best writing advice I can think of is to write what you feel. I’m a firm believer in the idea that our best writing comes from our emotions. We kind of have to keep them reigned in to a certain degree, I think, in order to keep control over the language and the emotion but if your words aren’t fueled with some sort of feeling, then to me it’s like staring at a plain piece of cardboard. There’s no meat in the message.

Character names. How do you come up with them? It depends. Sometimes I see a name or even a word somewhere and a character shows up in my head. Sometimes I just pin random names to people. Sometimes I go onto those baby name websites and look up something meaningful that fits the character both in sound and in definition. And sometimes things just come together, like with my original character in my Narnia fanfiction. Her name is Eilonwy like the character in The Chronicles of Prydain. I’ve never actually read the books, but I like the long-forgotten Disney movie inspired by them. The name was just really interesting and pretty to me, and I really wanted to use it. At first, that was all it was: just a superficial reason. I was fourteen when I first came up with the initial idea for the story, so of course I didn’t have any deeper reasoning behind “It sounds pretty!” Now that I’m older and more thoughtful about my writing and shit, though, I’ve come to find that the name holds much deeper meaning to the story than I ever could’ve imagined which feels great. I love when things just randomly work out like that.

Do you tell friends/family about your writing, or do you keep it a secret?They know I write and some know what I write about but I don’t make too big a fuss about it. If I’m deep in a writing binge, I’ll post my pride on facebook like “I’ve written such-and-such word count so far!” or whatever. For the most part, though, I keep pretty quiet. I’ll share when I have to, like in writing workshops, but in regards to my fanfiction, the only person I really ramble to about it is my best friend. She’s heard all the spoilers and given me feedback on paragraphs I was either proud or unsure of. I’m really grateful for her feedback, and that she lets me fangirl over my own work when I need to!

What are some of your favorite words to use in writing? I don’t know if I have any favorite words. I have overused words, but I don’t know if I have any favorites.

Opinions on smut? Good if done right. I’ve tried my hand at my fair share of smut and when I look back at the stuff I tried to write for my last finished fanfiction, a Jack Frost x Violet Parr American Horror Story AU, I cannot help but cringe. I had the hot and heavy shit down pat but situational appropriateness was not entirely grasped. But then again, I was sixteen and a virgin when I wrote that so of course I didn’t have any realistic handle on it. Looking back, I’m just proud of myself for even writing something of that length because as problematic and cringey as it is to me now, that was the story that really confirmed I had the stamina to write novels. Up until that point, I had never written a full-fleshed, novel-length work. Now I’ve written two more and am working on a fourth. But anyways, about smut, my approach has shifted since then. Nowadays, my guidelines are to do it only when it’s appropriate to and to do it tastefully. Less is more. I care more about the emotion in it now than I do the physical act.

Is there anything you have found that you cannot, under any circumstance, write about?I’m not sure. I can’t think of anything right now off the top of my head, because refusing to write about something and finding difficulty in writing about something are two completely different things. There’s lots of things that are difficult for me to write whether it’s because they’re not my strong points (like humor) or because I feel inexperienced, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to do as much research as I can to write them. If I care about a situation or idea enough, I will go that distance. I don’t know if there’s anything I would shy away from writing, including triggering material. I’ve already done stuff regarding rape. I write a lot about anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, even some PTSD. I don’t think there’s anything I’d shy away from writing.

Creative nonfiction. Have you dabbled with it? Do you like writing about your own life?I honestly love writing about my own life. That makes me sound really narcissistic but I mean, I’m telling the truth. There’s this one quote from a movie called Stuck in Love that I absolutely adore, it says “A writer is the sum of their experiences.” So much of my writing is inspired by my own experiences, and while I certainly don’t think you have to have experience in something to successfully write about it, having that extra layer of knowledge on a subject really adds realism and meaning to something. I can fake it, sure. I did that a lot in stories I wrote for my community college creative writing class. I wrote one story called Princess about a girl auditioning to be a face character at Disney World. I’ve never done that, though I’ve done a lot of research because I desperately want to. People thought I had actually experienced it. I wrote another about a young woman in the hospital for an eating disorder who desperately wanted a baby. While I’ve never been hospitalized for an eating disorder, I do struggle with one and my greatest fear is losing the ability to have a baby because of it so even though it wasn’t something I directly experienced, I channeled my fears and feelings into it. At the end of the day, I think so long as you’re passionate about something, you can successfully write about it and make it believable. But back to the question, one of the experiences I look to for inspiration most often is my love life and what I’ve been through with that. I’ve never been abused or cheated on or any of that bullshit, but I’ve had a very interesting history with my boyfriend that hinges on not only romance and compatibility like in all relationships but also in self esteem, grief, family, and the past. I’ve written quite a handful of short stories based around it, and some of the not-so-lovely feelings that have come from it. (Disclaimer: This is not to say my boyfriend and I are unhappy or in an unhealthy relationship. We just haven’t always had it easy and early on, I had a really tough time coming to terms with some things that I’m not going to go into detail with right now).

Allusions and references to other works. Thoughts? Do you like to use them?As a fanfiction writer, I feel like I’m obligated to say yes since that writing mainly takes place in other people’s works. At it’s foundation, though, I love allusion. I’m a big fan of fairytales and I have some interest in Greek mythology, as well, so I like taking inspiration from those and alluding to them in my stories. It’s easy to do in my Narnia fanfiction, especially, because it already alludes mythology and also religion which can tie into fairytales. Eilonwy, my OC, is a very heavy reference to the story of Snow White, as well as to Adam and Eve and Joan of Arc. I think it’s fun to tie certain things into shit like that, and I love when everything connects and makes sense.

What do you think characterizes your writing?My style and approach. I command the language a certain way where I try to sound cohesive and intelligent but also pump those big words with emotion and meaning. I don’t really know how else to describe it; my best writing comes when I’m in that zone and the words are just flowing out of me. I like trying to express abstract concepts in ways that feel tangible, too. I think tangibility is a big aspect, too. As an adjective here it probably doesn’t make much sense, but there’s something about my writing that I feel gives it this kind of tangible quality, almost. I like being able to feel the emotions and words in the air around me like oxygen. I also think the fact that I don’t like to shy away from anything helps to characterize my writing, too. I like to pull out all the stops. I don’t like censoring myself for the sake of comfort or digestibility. Maybe that makes my work kind of hard to get through but still. I feel like you have to have a stronger stomach for my work because I will not resist uncomfortable topics or scenes. Rape, gore, anxiety, whatever. I don’t shy away from any of it.

Do you control your characters, or do they control you? For the most part, I have pretty decent control over my characters but sometimes they like to go their own way and screw up the plan. Sometimes it’s for the best, but I’m the kind of person who likes to strictly stay to the path I’ve mapped out so more often than not it’s a nuisance. That resistance can be a real struggle, too, because sometimes where my characters take me flows nicely but it would mean reworking everything so I have to go back and try and channel that flow into the right direction.

Are there any misconceptions people have about your writing? I don’t really know. I try to be as clear as possible about what is happening and what I mean when I say certain things. If anything, they’d probably mistake me for a psychopath.

Best compliment someone has given you about your writing.I think the best compliments are honestly the ones where people are just straight-up fangirling. I love reading people’s reactions to my works, especially when they love it and want more of it and are screaming at their computer screens because of choices the characters have made. I had one person even send me a message telling me that they love my story so much, it’s all they can think about and gives them motivation to live (in a non-suicidal manner) and implored me to keep writing. That’s the kind of feedback that really motivates me to keep doing what I do.

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer? In five years, I hope to be a published author with at least a small repertoire of original work under my belt and out in the open. I know it might take longer than five years to get there but I’ve come so far already and I think if I have the passion and the will to do it, I can get there. The end goal is to just get my stories out there and accessible to the public in hopes that someone may find something in them that they relate to, that helps them feel less alone, or that they just enjoy reading. The day I find my name on a bookstore shelf is the day I will feel as if I’ve truly made it (which brings me to another point about my opinions on paper versus digital publishing but I think that’s a rant for another post-- I’ve already made this one long enough!)

#ugh honestly thank you so much for this hahaha #writing stuff #ask memes #answered asks #magnificent-north #ramblings

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