Man Disney knows what they’re about: Tangled is making all my mum senses tingle with all that HAIR trailing on the FLOOR it’s just so UNHYGIENIC someone get that girl a haircut! And then boom, Rapunzel’s grieving parents lighting all the stupid lanterns because someone stole their baby 18 years ago and they’re still looking for her no I’m not crying you’re crying they’re manipulating me on purpose and it’s WORKING I could have shrugged past this pre-babies but now I am clutching Child 2 and weeping about a fucking cartoon don’t have children they BREAK YOUR HORMONES
I was tagged by ralphsmotorbike a while ago in the ‘10 books that have stayed with you’ meme. Halfway through my list I realised it was becoming kid-oriented, so I
cheatedtweaked it a bit and have chosen 10 children’s books (as opposed to books I read as a kid) that have stayed with me. (Literally, as well as metaphorically).
In case it’s not obvious, I loved these books. LOVED THEM. I still do, but nothing is quite like the fervent instinctive love for stories that you have as a nipper.
Danny The Champion of the World: Roald Dahl. I had other Dahl faves (Fantastic Mr Fox, for one) but this - one of the least fantastical - lingers. I could actually imagine being in this book. I landscaped it with familiar places (my home town) and longed for safe but exciting night time escapades.
The Iron Man: Ted Hughes. I read this again today. It’s so brief and vivid and precise and visceral: it’s Hughes’ poetic eye only slightly tempered for kids, his particular genius for the physicality of things: the Iron Man chewing on a rusty stove like a delicious toffee. I didn’t know it as a kid but this book made me a Hughes fan for life.
The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark: Jill Tomlinson. Easy to see now it’s a book about a timid child making new friends and overcoming fears, which is a great lesson to surreptitiously learn. But it’s delightful, and adorable (like Plop, our hero owl) and funny without being twee or cosy.
The Kingdom Under The Sea: Joan Aiken (illustrations by Jan Pieńkowski). The (re-told fairy tale) stories are marvellous, but the pictures are what stays with me. I spent happy minutes reading Meg and Mog books at the library, but this is a different level of Pieńkowski’s artistic beauty.
A Book of Milliganimals: Spike Milligan. Because to this day whenever I read/hear/think the line ‘Tyger Tyger burning bright’ (often, because I’m a Blake fangirl) I follow it up with ‘Look out! You’ll set the forest alight’. You’re never too young for silliness. When you’re a kid you just read books, you don’t know who the writers are, so I loved Spike long before I knew what he was famous for.
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe: C S Lewis. I think no other book has invaded my subconscious like this one. None of the other Narnia books did. I remember being horribly disappointed when someone told me (I was still young) that Aslan was sort of Jesus, but it didn’t stop me loving him, or the book. Or feeling - guiltily - that it was only the fact that I hate turkish delight that would have stopped me from being Edmund.
Just So Stories: Rudyard Kipling. All the stories, but especially ‘How The Alphabet Was Made’. Both my parents read to me all the time, but that one reminds me of my dad, because it’s about a little girl and her dad and words and inventing a written language. I want to clutch this story to myself and never let it go.
Alice Through The Looking Glass: Lewis Carroll. Moreso that ‘Wonderland’, for many reasons; Jabberwocky, the talking flowers, and that moment Alice discovers she is on a giant chessboard.
Mr Tickle: Roger Hargreaves. I was obsessed with the Mr Men, reading them, and drawing them (all the time) and - the excitement - watching them on telly. Mr Tickle lying in bed and reaching into the biscuit tin downstairs was probably my first terrible epiphany of how disappointing life is compared to the glory of fiction. I’ve still not recovered from that one.
The Very Hungry Caterpillar: Eric Carle. You can get VHC everything these days, but it doesn’t matter: nothing compares to that first glorious moment of seeing the holes in the pages and the different sizes of page and OH! of course all the glorious food. I was a gluttonous child. And the illustrations are quite beautiful; timeless and of-their-time both.
Do you ever memorize a person’s voice? Like you can construct a sentence in your mind that that person’s never said, and yet you hear them say it.
Is that a thing people can do?????????
man can we collectively join together to change the name of “watersports” to something a little less misleading
i remember the first time i saw that in the description of a fic
i was like “so what, do the characters go to a waterpark or something? kinda weird that the author felt the need to specifically point that out”
the characters did not go to a waterpark.
would it be okay if I just considered myself tagged and did the thing? I love to write these, but I keep missing them when they come up…
You should definitely consider yourself tagged! Everyone should consider themselves tagged!
Ahaha, and that last gif is Merlin’s “How can you be such an asshole and yet be so adorable at the same time?” face.
What with the heavy breathing, I read it more as “just you wait till I bend you over a table, I’ll give you almost you little shit”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Author’s summary: “Fraser loses his memories and loses control.”
Tags: Spanking, Dom/sub, Amnesia, Dirty Talk
this doesn’t quite fit how I see Ray and Fraser (yeah yeah I know, amnesia, Fraser can’t remember what he’s like, but still) but it is SMOKIN’ HOT. And great porn transcends characterisation.
I’m late to the meme party and breaking the rules by not posting the rules! These small acts of rebellion make me feel alive.
(Thanks for tagging me pintpotjudas! Thanks for tagging everyone else too, I love reading these almost as much as answering them)
1. Benton Fraser and Steve Rogers have reached a taxi cab at the same time! How does that go down?
This is when I admit that I’ve never seen anything featuring Steve Rogers or indeed any of the Avengers franchise. Hence I have no idea, but everyone else’s answers reveal that I am not alone.
2. They’ve given you the money and the actors and crew are on board: which fanfiction are you going to make into a movie/ tv series?
WELL THEN. In such a glorious utopia I’m going to assume we can ignore the passing of time as well, so it’s got to be something by Speranza. With Six You Get Eggroll, maybe? I think I’d rather see Ray and Fraser being adorable harried dads than almost anything else. But anything by Speranza would be good. Having just read wagnetic's answers I have to agree that I don't especially want to see graphic porn on screen - nothing can top how fanfic writes it - but I would sell my firstborn* for a cinema-grade in-depth sex scene between Paul Gross and CKR in the 90s.
3. What was something that really frightened you as a child? Does it still scare you now?
Dustbin lorries; I no longer fear they will eat me, but I have had some anxious driving experiences trying to manoeuvre round them on narrow London streets
4. Dancing down a public street: yes or no?
Me and Child 1 dance to her singing Let it Go in the street. Now she loves it; if I keep it up for 5 more years, she’ll refuse to be seen in public with me.
5. What kind of person are you in relation to air/rail/sea travel? Are you an ‘arrive four hours early with book, travel plans, coffee etc.’ or a ‘race to the gate with 2 minutes to spare’ kind of kid?
I can’t remember, I’ll tell you on Wednesday! I’m already a “has no passport** misses half my last day in the office getting an emergency travel document at the British Consulate” kinda gal so the signs aren’t good.
6. Do you have any hidden talents?
If so, they remain hidden. Unless we’re counting driving in rush hour traffic with a screaming toddler and keeping my cool, which perhaps we should.
7. If there was a cocktail/ drink named after you, what flavours would it contain?
Tea, gin, a piece of fruit left unfinished on the plate, and that nasty bit of cold coffee left in the bottom of the cup - resentment, you could call it?
8. Desert Island or snowy mountain lakes?
I spent all day yesterday on the beach and nice though it was I am lightly sunburned and sick of sweeping up sand, so snowy mountain lakes sound nice. Plus, everything is due South and all that.
9. Do you swear a lot? Do you have a favourite curse word?
No I have small children and nothing stops you swearing faster than a 3 year old who says “fuck!” Swearing seems to be more common in Spain but there’s kind of swearing-lite for ladies, so for example rather than the hardcore “hostia!” (literally, the Host as in the body of Christ) you can say “ostras!” (oysters!) I can’t decide if “oysters!” is such a great swearword I should champion it, or whether I object to the whole ladylike construct that makes swearing-for-women a thing.
10. You’re allowed either skin moisturiser or hair conditioner, which do you pick?
I am 35, I need both. Just you wait.
11.Any books you wish you’d never read?
Not that I can think of, no. I guess it would have to be something gratuitously disturbing and although I have read disturbing books (The Feast of the Goat springs to mind) I think there was purpose to the disturbingness. There are probably some I read too young and so didn’t enjoy, but once I’ve read All the Fanfic on the Internet I can always read them again, right?
Edit: I wish I’d never bothered reading anything by EM Forster - those are hours of my life I’m never getting back. I regret soldiering on through Howard’s sodding End, and that other one, the one in Italy where they don’t have sex? A big fat Not My Sort Of Thing. Navel-gazing English literature of a certain era really leaves me cold. They’d all have been fine if they’d only pull themselves together and stop WHINING! Yeah I’m probably missing a huge undercurrent but I have zero motivation to discover it. I think lots of people feel this way about macho White Male Novelists like Hemingway, but I can enjoy that sort of thing even while pointing and laughing at the author’s crisis of masculinity. Forster I feel sympathetic towards while never ever wanting to read another word he wrote.
*I probably wouldn’t really sell my firstborn. She’s pretty great, I’d miss her. And more to the point, I can’t imagine what outlandish circumstances would lead to anyone making a Canadian film in exchange for a 5 year old.
**Has no passport through no fault of her own but due to ill-considered cost-cutting by the current bastard British Tory government.
And if you’re still up at 4 a.m.,
you are in love or lonely,
and I don’t know which one is worse.
im reading gay fanfic tho