#but someone who truly loves her daughter but was only human herself and couldn't be what Marcille needed at a crucial moment
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What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.
so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.
Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:
She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent
Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married
She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came
She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays
She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home
Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)
She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words
the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.
She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)
Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues
She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)
She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).
She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)
She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.
She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food
(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:
She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it
seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)
slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)
(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))
However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.
Subsequent conclusions about her personality:
Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).
Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:
Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.
Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?
Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:
It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:
Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.
We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.
It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.
It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.
"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).
And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?
Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?
I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:
copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.
It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.
But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.
What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."
Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.
All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)
There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.
but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.
(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)
#asks#she could easily be interpreted as distant or neglectful after Donato's death too#with how little involvement she has in Marcille's life/the fact that Marcille doesn't even mention her when talking about her life prospect#and that's fair! I will argue to hell and back that she was a loving parent when Donato was alive#but there's nothing that suggests she remained a loving parent afterwards#I just think that like... parental relationships are so complicated in dungeon meshi#you cannot deny that the toudens' mother loved them dearly but that she failed them both miserably as a parent#and i think it'd be more compelling if Marcille's mother was a little like that too#not a totally and easily dismissable deadbeat#but someone who truly loves her daughter but was only human herself and couldn't be what Marcille needed at a crucial moment#and regrets it deeply#and that the distance between them is mutually self-imposed by complicated feelings of guilt and fear#and a little resentment from Marcille's side that she hasn't really properly processed#I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it but i had this idea where Marcille does finally spill the beans to her mom and she just#immediately arrives in Melini#and its awkward for a bit but they do finally have a heart to heart and air it all out#and marcille starts freaking out that her marriage is rocky rn bc her new husband wants her to distance herself from marcille#on account of the crimes and all#marcille's like no you can't blow up your marriage for me and her mother just shuts that shit down#'you didn't choose to be born. i was the one who made that choice for you'#'i brought you into this world and i'll be damned if i don't take responsibility for that the entire way'#'you are entitled to *nothing less* than my unconditional love.'#and obviously that's not a sentiment that's exactly healthy as a universal statement about parenthood#but i think its what her mother would believe and what marcille needs to hear#and dungeon meshi does such a fantastic job at just... letting imperfect things just *be* without having to justify it immediately#it expects the audience to do their own critical thinking#and know that its not trying to make sweeping universal statements in every instance#marcilleposting#marcille donato
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barbie is a fun, clever, visual feast with some lovely moments that i am happy to see resonate with people. the movie is definitely worth seeing. but i would only give the film a 3.5/5.
i am now going to talk at length about my thoughts on the film, most of which will be an attempt to understand what is being said here.
i think barbie's acceptance of the gender wars as inevitable and perpetual ends up being more regressive than a lot of what it's trying to critique. it mostly ends in a healthier place, but along the way, it has little ability to make meaning outside of that frame. i loved the interactions barbie had with older women, particularly ruth, and i think there's a wonderful message there about girls needing both aspirational role models and grounded older mentors who can help them manage any obstacles they find. what a wonderful theme, and one that is given subtle, genuine weight, which i prefer over the more overt, "telling" moments the film does throughout. but a lot of the story gets sidetracked in assuming women's role is tricking men (a role foisted on them as a reaction to the patriarchy, so don't blame them) and that any true reconciliation or mutual support between men and women is only based on pity. i think the film could have landed better as a reflection on womanhood if it actually dared to be about ... women. if it could imagine women as more. if it truly tried to show the complex roller-coaster of emotions instead of staying stuck in one gear.
i have seen people say how ironic it is that ken is the best part of a barbie film, but it's true, on even deeper levels than people realize. why is ken the only one with true agency, whose feelings are true to himself and not a reflection of someone playing with him? where is the boy playing with his sister's dolls and desperately trying to understand why he feels so inadequate? why are those questions never asked in a film that generates endless questions and observations about human frailty? none of the barbies are capable of doing anything for themselves; they are easily brainwashed by the kens, and all it takes to shake them out of it is a speech about how "complex" women are. kens just have to accept themselves as they are to be happy; barbies have to believe they are doing something productive and worthwhile. except main barbie, who feels like she can't do anything meaningful, because this movie thinks the different barbies are genuinely incapable of doing something if they don't have an outfit to go with it. if the point is that she feels less than because she has seen the real world and feels unprepared for it, well, none of the other barbies would have fared better. astronaut barbie couldn't get a job at nasa, just like beach ken can't get a job at beach. the one time we see barbie make a choice for herself, unprompted by others, unburdened from her anxieties, is to ... go to the gynecologist. um. empowering. i guess.
(i think the ken/barbie plot would have worked better if they were "packaged" together. there's no real reason this ken has the crisis, why barbie feels any special responsibility for him.)
the fact that barbie begins to feel angst and anxiety as a result of real women's insecurities is fascinating; in being the avatar of girls' hopes, she also becomes their "competition," a symbol of all their grief and all their inadequacies. maybe you can see how kens get off easy here; they are not evolved enough; they will never be chosen by the gods as friends or idols or objects of hatred. that could have been explored more, especially through the mother-daughter relationship. why do teenagers begin pulling away from their mothers? perhaps for the same reason they grow out of barbie, because they want to be something beyond the touchstones of femininity they have. they want to be their own person and have to separate themselves, but the girls their age are obsessed with tearing each other down and taking their insecurities out on each other because they feel broken. barbie was experiencing that rejection for the first time. the film could have had something to say about how women can be cruel to one another as they struggle to find their own paths, but it's understandable and part of learning to identify what feels real and true to you. but none of the human characters have enough screentime to address any of this.
i liked the point that women dolls are saddled with the same impossible standards that many women feel. they're blamed in society for women's insecurities and also become totemic, like, "we gave you barbie, what more do you want?" i get that, i get the frustration that animates some of the plot, but i couldn't relate to it all that much. but it does ring true for me that b a r b i e as a concept, a company, a doll, is not the problem or the solution. she's just cool.
("why not make barbies that are relatable and normal?" the movie suggests. oh my god....... 💀 💀 💀 what year is this?)
i think allan (almost inadvertently, or at least subtly) makes the movie's best point: the lack of expectations can be an incredible gift. without them, you are free to become your own person on your own time instead of feeling less than because you're comparing yourself to others. we must all be allan. allan is our friend.
there are honestly so many smart concepts and sly commentary here that feel buried in Telling Not Showing; like the ken war was SO funny, and it would have hit hard if we saw the barbies struggling to find a way to understand and interact with the kens ... and they decide to play nice before realizing jealousy and competition seem to motivate the kens ... and then the kens do the most ken thing and do a normandy reenactment to gain women's attention. that's so archetypal, such a funny nod to the cyclical weirdness of human history, to the idea that women (and men) work within the system that is created for or against them, using the tools they have, living up to the gender roles/models they've been taught! but because the characters are like "i know what we will do. we will manipulate them and then they will go to war because they are men!" it's like ... ugh. it messes up the pacing of that whole sequence. it kills the surprise and delight of watching it unfold, so all we can react to are the sight gags (giving mouth to mouth to the horse lmaoooo) and the juxtoposition of war film and gene kelly musical. but the actual gender role commentary is stated so explicitly, afraid to question itself, afraid to say anything surprising or insightful, that it amounts to putting everyone right back in their box. the film tries to balance this at the end, pitying patriarchy as a cope against death, trying to empower the kens to be themselves, but it refuses to imagine any true healing or change, anything beyond "well, kids need to imagine barbieland as a matriarchal utopia, even though we have established that doing so leaves them unprepared for a world of unfair standards they can't control." all women can expect to do is fight for a land of dreams, but always know that the most that land can achieve is creating an image that will be sold back to them as empowerment. genuinely, what the FUCK is the point of this film. oh, it's too hard to say that imagination is what makes us human and that ultimately means more than the object. again, the film will outright state some version of this idea ("I want to do the imagining, I don't want to be the idea"), but every other part of the plot undercuts it with its own failure to imagine women as more than reactive.
and it had the chance to let women be real characters! (hell, does this movie even remember that barbie has Lore, a Family, a Last Name, that she hasn't been "just a doll" in a long, long time?) but the film seems to set up plots that would have given us organic interactions and fully realized characters. i got so excited when america's character, gloria, showed up, because okay, we're going to be able to explore womanhood through the eyes of a real person, we're going to see the push and pull between idealized utopias and dreams and real-world survival and hope and despair by learning more about her. but no. gloria is there to give a speech that doesn't sum up her life and her passions but all women in very generic terms. it's not experiential, it's definitional (and it's a definition built on what a woman is not -- not this, not this, can't be that). it is relying on the audience to point and say, "i recognize that," instead of building gloria as a person we love and know and laugh and cry with. you are building a wall between the story and your audience; if they never had "complicated feelings" about barbie, if they aren't sure why gloria cares so much about the doll while her daughter has such a negative reaction, then it is not going to let them in and explain that. it is going to say, "if you don't get it, you are brainwashed, probably, or a man, and you don't want to see it, and i am not going to open it up to you because it is an exclusive club, intentionally, because it is the only club we have, and i am not going to open it up to further ridicule or commentary, even though that is what this entire movie is doing." gah! tell a story! tell a STORY! surprise me! why are we just pointing at things?
i'm telling you, when barbie sits on that bench and has an interaction with an older lady, who is totally at ease in her own skin, who is un-selfconscious and not angry and peaceful, it brought immediate tears to my eyes. it was such a breath of fresh air. a real person, reacting in a way that surprises and moves you. what was her story. who is she. what is her secret to confidence and balance, and how can women share that with one another. no no no, go go go, take on capitalism and patriarchy until you're too tired to remember how to laugh, this is healthy and good. @~@
ultimately i am talking about the themes i wish were there or wish were more emphasized because the messages that are there feel contradictory. for instance, the kens' patriarchy is shallow and cartoonish, both in barbieland and the real world (that mattel executives were just as stupid and pointless as TOY PEOPLE was so INTERESTING to me; like what does it mean that men can still "play," and get paid enormously for it? but it's kind of just "isn't this dumb"), and the barbies are more than happy to manipulate their kens' emotions to get what they want. america ferrera tells barbie she is justified to feel mad at ken for what he did to her and her friends. but in the next scene, barbie comforts ken and connects to his feelings of vulnerability. it feels like the movie is rolling its eyes through the scene, when it could have been a really beautiful, sweet moment where humanity is recognized as universal, a true "man was not meant to be alone" moment of meaning, turned inside out and shaken and reconfigured as complementary and supportive, where barbie and ken realize community is crucial to weathering their own insecurities and flawed emotional responses, and maybe you can need someone without making it your whole personality. maybe the fear of connection is something all girls start to struggle with as they become teenagers, and they need that world where men don't want anything from them, and they want to cling to it a little longer than necessary. but because it's been bookended with "of course he's going to cry about it, don't give in, it's not your job to support him," the emotional core of the scene is undercut by shallower stuff. the scene genuinely reads like "placating men is important and you should do it," which is INSANE to me, but that's what is coming across with the wild whiplash between rage and sweetness, denying kens any humanity the whole film and trying to patch it up right at the end. barbie's ennui stems from the fact that a weary mother is playing with her, but the rest of the barbies - and the film as a whole - feel puppeted by the surly teenager who has not moved beyond rage-filled one-liners. i don't like that this is the case because those moments of human connection (barbie with the older woman on the bench, the mother-daughter relationship, even ken trying to understand why he cares so much what other people think of him) are so great. we're just supposed to ... not apply compassion to characters the film doesn't like. and we are supposed to like the characters we do like not because we are experiencing their lives with them but because they are saying The Right Things Loudly.
(and don't you love how the film even has a prepackaged response to being criticized? wanting men to be real people is brainwashed behavior. wanting women to have thoughts that go beyond regurgitated feminism 101 catchphrases is asking too much of a plastic toy. it's just a reflection or reality, see, but it's also exaggerated satire. i think the glib tone just crept into everything and made for some wild subtext that i don't even think the film recognizes.)
greta gerwig is more successful at dealing with the tension between made "things" and real life in little women. jo, as a stand-in for louisa may alcott, is resistant to getting jo "married off" and only caves in to get the book published. but the life and joy still sing in the scene where she reunites with bhaer, even when the audience is already primed to see it as artificial and cynical. the play between what jo says she wants and what jo indulges in is obvious; we can find joy and light even in the things that feel like a compromise of our principles. sometimes they are better than life, better than what we could imagine, they take on lives of their own, they become little women who exist off the page and no longer have to carry the burden of being "The One Narrative For Women" because they spark thousands of other stories and hopes and longings that the author doesn't have to be responsible for. as much as i waffle on whether i like the ending of gerwig's little women, it's clear that part of greta is throwing up her hands, in a "but what do i know?" gesture ... indulgent romance might just be the little antidote we need to stave off the lonely feelings we get sometimes. it's not weak, it's not a compromise, it's just cool.
for whatever reason, she doesn't bring that same verve or ambiguity to this film; she can't infuse barbie with meaning beyond what her critics say about her. barbies, like women, have to be perfect, but they can't be. they can't be totems, but they are. we must get away from them, but we can't. they are creations of men, but women can't think their way out of the box. barbie is an immortal ideal, but none of what she symbolizes has any impact.
"that's the point. it's complicated," greta says to me. "my job here is done."
"but declaring things complicated is not a point of view!" i yell back. "you didn't do anything!"
maybe i am too invested in barbie to even recognize that people have such negative feelings about her. maybe i have seen this premise done better in the lego movie, teen beach movie, barbie: life in the dreamhouse! (all of which genuinely love toys and kids/teen media and are not using them to sort out their own disgruntled feelings — and have a genuine belief that even flawed media bankrolled into existence can be real art, something gerwig seems so skeptical about that she lets her ambivalence about taking on this particular directorial gig become the driving tension in the story. how ... relatable?) maybe i have unresolved issues with greta's themes from little women and am now realizing how little she seems to get the things that matter to me, and we just need to part ways.
as anthony lane writes in the new yorker, "maybe the movie is for greta gerwig. and, by extension, for anyone as super-smart as her—former barbiephiles, preferably, who have wised up and put away childish things."
to that, i'd put a quote from c.s. lewis, whose work greta will soon try to get her hands around: "when i became a man i put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up." the soul shudders at a narnia, a barbieland, a march family home, that are only notable for how "complicated" our feelings about them are supposed to be, and i think that puts my thoughts on greta's work into words.
now ... proust barbie, i would buy.
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thoughts on the Harrison-Boyd-Clapton live triangle???
Oh god I have SO many thoughts lol. I was actually just talking to my best friend about this, but to put it simply I see the whole situation as an example of two people who truly love each other not belonging together because the particular ways in which they're broken go together too well.
But, to put it less simply:
I tend to think about it from Pattie's perspective, and I've always thought of her as having pretty severe eldest daughter syndrome, i.e. she was taught to value her worth by what she could provide to others. Her parents weren't super involved and she took on a lot more responsibility than most kids her age, especially when it came to her younger siblings. This quote in particular stood out to me when I was obsessing over Pattie a few months ago:
(Not sure where that's originally from btw, I've had the screenshot forever but based on formatting I think it might be brainy quote).
It's often a red flag when people say they felt older than their years, and doubly so when they were in some way parentified. We often reenact the role we played in our childhood family system in our adult relationships, and in Pattie I think this lead her to be extremely giving and self sacrificing. To the point where I'm not sure she was even aware that she HAD emotional needs, much less knew how to assert them.
To that end, although I obviously like George quite a bit, there's no denying that -- especially as a young man -- he was an incredibly needy person. (I actually think all the beatles were sort of black holes of emotional need tbh, at least in their youth. Partly because of childhood trauma but also because they were living a life that's larger and more extreme than any human being was meant to live.)
Pattie's tendency to sacrifice excessively dovetailed perfectly with George's tendency to need excessively, and as a result he totally eclipsed her entire self, until she felt utterly lost. That's neither of their fault, btw. Neither of them was emotionally mature or self aware enough to realize what was happening.
(Not to mention George was cheating like a dog and Pattie was taking it on the chin even though she knew deep down she deserved better. But former parentified children often put up with a lot of shit as adults because they believe it's their responsibility to do so.)
Then Eric comes along and literally tells her it's her fault he's addicted to heroin and if she doesn't leave George he'll die and it'll be all her fault. Aside from the fact that this is literally emotional abuse, it's also an even darker and more powerful black hole of neediness than George. And as someone whose sense of self has been eclipsed and who only knows she matters when she's of service to others, it was basically impossible not to fall into that black hole.
For his part, I think Eric was far more concerned with taking something from George than being with Pattie. I don't know enough about him to know why he'd feel the need to do that and I also really dislike him so I doubt I'll ever find out. Pattie said he got bored of her pretty much as soon as he "had" her, and tbh that doesn't surprise me.
It was honestly such a tragic thing for Pattie to be driven/dragged away from George -- personally I believe they always loved each other (she referred to him as her soulmate in her autobiography, and George made sure she knew as long as he was alive she'd have a financial parachute) -- but I also genuinely think they had to lose each other in order to find themselves.
Pattie couldn't stay in a relationship where she was fulfilling the same self sacrificing role she played as a child, and although it was a long and painful road she seems to have really found herself and found peace. She's never explicitly said this, but often people without a strong sense of self need to be on their own in order to learn how to value themselves, and she did spend a long time unmarried after Eric.
And, although George was gutted by the breakup, he was no more capable of expressing love in a healthy way than Pattie was. If they had stayed together I doubt he'd have grown into the wise and self possessed person that he ultimately became, because he simply wouldn't have had to. (Plus he never would have found Liv and I love her just as much as I love Pattie.)
In the end their relationship is fascinating and tragic to me because the things that drew them to one another so deeply were also what ultimately doomed them, and yet in the shadow of that loss they became the people they were meant to be and found their happy endings.
Thanks for the ask, and sorry for the novel 😁
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DARK NIGHT PRIEST (NUN) [SUMIRE EDTION]
𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷
"..Oh deer... This is no good... Seems your on your last breath, do not worry sweet child... Sister Sumire.. Shall hush those sweet breaths of yours..."
HEADCANNONS BELOW.
{BEFORE READING AHEAD DISCLAIMER!! No I do not think churches are like this and I do not mean to offend anyone. This is my AU of Sumire being in a 'catholic' AU as a nun. She's more in a cult that poses itself as a 'church'. AGAIN I DO NOT MEAN TO OFFEND ANYONE, }
{ VOTE FOR WHICH BOY U WANT SUMIRE IN A HEADCANNON AND FANFIC IN THIS AU AT BOTTOM. }
𖧷ɤ— "..I have.. Given everything... I have given it my all to believe there is a god.. Now I know there is one... That god that took fathers identity, is gone... Now that father finally can be in his true place... Fufu.."
As a young girl, Kyuufu still had placed in her head that he was her god in the living world. 'You have two gods, me and our holy one.' he said as he drown her more into "cleansing water". She happily let him shove her head in there still she couldn't breath in hopes she'll believe in her spirit god and become clean as she is still sinned and dirty.
But someone's sanity can only be so sane for so long, two gods just two gods. However.. Father is plenty more worthy of being up there ruling it all right? It only took a few stabs in the gut and heart for her to know she now has a god she knows truly exists. This lifeless body in front of her.. Her father was finally in the correct place.
However, the church would come to find out their priest was murdered by the nun, his daughter no less. In panic they send her away to a separate church to 'cleanse' her. Little did she know the people there have done far worse sins then her.
𖧷ɤ— "..It's sad... That all of these people refuse to look into the right picture... And see that sins are not redeemable, and they deserve to parish... However, it is only their choice to walk the right path when they are in front of deaths door..."
People would soon come to question her in the new church. Just what was there to fix about this girl? She seemed to be so in love with her god, even had every word, page, person memorized that they turned a blind eye. Not the 'non human' boys however, the priests would find her intriguing by her beliefs and morals. She, as a loyal nun she become to her newly church would be on her hands and knees to them. She was still a foolish human Afterall.
Following their wants, and requests. It quickly became her job to keep a watchful eye for any sinners, or mistreatment within the 'church'. And report back, and pray behind the door while she heard her beloved priests murder the unfortunate soul. Father have mercy on them when they arrive she think.
𖧷ɤ—"I am more then willing to give up my everything... Please my father... Please take my mortality away from me so I can be yours... For our love is more powerful then our god itself..."
She kneels before him. The one she has chosen 'till death to us part'. But she wishes not to be with him unless she is him, she can not be with him forever until her mortality is gone.
Perhaps she's willing to give herself another physical god, one whom she'll cherish, and do his every biding of getting rid of pesky sinners. But just who is this man? You the reader decide, how nun Sumire's path will go.
--CHOICE--
SHUU SAKAMAKI -- REIJI SAKAMAKI --AYATO SAKAMAKI -- KANATO SAKAMAKI -- LAITO SAKAMAKI -- SUBARU SAKAMAKI
RUKI MUKAMI -- KOU MUKAMI -- YUMA MUKAMI -- AZUSA MUKAMI
CARLA TSUKISHIMA -- SHIN TSUKISHIME
{ You can vote between these boys, and the winner will be the one I write headcannons with as a nun and priest lovers running a almost faithless church. }
𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷
#diabolik oc#diabolik lovers#sumire#sumire-bride#sumire kanashi#my art#dark night priest#art#my oc#{ ITS DONE I HAD SM FUN WIT THIS }#{ U guys also get a nut sumire who likes to kill to :3 }#{ PLUS DEAD KYUUFU THATS ALSO A WIN???
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Can I hear more about your OC's? Doesn't matter who, it can be any
YES YES YOU CAN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
okokokokok so this is going to be SO disorginized but i'm gonna talk about my hre oc bc the only canon character i truly hate is hre i want to punt the child
her human name is Adelheid Dietrich but she regularly just goes by Heidi. Her first name means Nobility, and her last name means Ruler of the people; very fitting name for how much power she held in Europe for so long.
Her parents are Gaul and Germania, she very notably was never very close with her mother, and very close with her father until the the last few years of his life. (The Saxon wars, and Heimeric's own refusal to convert contributed to the deterioration in their relationship but that deserves it's own post) I don't have her exact year of birth pinned down yet, but sibling wise she is between Austria and Switzerland. Roderich being a few years older, and Aldrich being a few years younger. Heidi is only 1 of 2 girls in the family and was fiercely protective of Belgium, even as adults, if anything happened to Bel she would regularly blame herself for 'letting' it happen. She had decently rocky relationships with most of her siblings, but would get in screaming matches with Denmark over the most insignificant things. Reasonably bitter because she did end up substitute mom for about half her younger siblings, specifically Netherlands, Belgium & England. And she should not have had to do that. Eldest Daughter Syndrome(TM) personified. Would get into an argument with Dan, Nor, and Swe not long after their father died that would consist of "Everything i've done to keep our family together and this is how you thank me? 'No'? Just because you don't want to? Do you know all i've given up? I didn't get a childhood. But it's fine. Do what you want." v much a The things she said weren't right, but the emotions she was having were definitely there.
She was terrified of death. Just from the moment she gained consciousness she couldn't think of anything worse then running out of time. And tbh that's probably what drew her to Christianity, and kept her there, the idea that death wouldn't be the end, and it would be a happy after. John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life" She's sold before the missionary can say anything else. That didn't stop her from being independent to a fault, which is where Lutheranism came into play; she was tired of being under Vatican's thumb (for lack of better term) so the moment the Reformation came around she was on board with that too. But all of that isn't to say she didn't have a complicated relationship with religion especially after a relationship--that i'll get to in a minute--constantly held it over her head as the whole reasoning for why she shouldn't do certain things; and it always worked because nothing scared her more than the idea that doing something would send her to Hell.
Anyway on romantic relationships; she was super queer. Would probably identify as bisexual in the year of our Lord 2023. She only ever had 2 notably relationships with other personifications; the first was with Czechia. It was very secretive, they were young, and dumb, and swore they would love no one but each other. (I actually wrote a little thing about them here). It somewhat obviously did not work out, because Heidi was scared of someone finding out about them, and after almost a century of being together she thought someone was getting to close to figuring it out; Adéla tried to insist it would be fine. Heidi panicked came up with a plan, and got Adéla to agree to it without telling her what it was. Within a couple months not a single person thought Adéla and Heidi were together... no they were too busy talking about how Clemens (Vatican) had supposedly broken his chastity vow and 'you'll never believe who for.' That was the end of her relationship with Czechia; it wasn't supposed to be. But it was.
Her second one was also a 'secret' but everyone knew about it. (so side note on my Vatican oc; remember he was born to represent West Rome and his land claim diminished as his children came along. Until eventually he picked up the title of the papal states then Vatican/Holy See). They met long before their 'romantic' relationship started, when Germania brought his at the time only daughter along to Rome and Vatican decided he just had to have her, and the sons of Rome usually get what they want. When they were very young they had a psuedo-relationship that really just happened because it was the first time they thought someone was cute and the other person thought the same. When she slept with him to cover her and Adéla's tracks, it was calculated. She had to have proof, and she had to have one or two people who she knew would talk have an inkling that it happened so rumors would start. What she didn't count on was him still having some of those feelings from hundreds of years earlier, she assumed he'd moved on completely. His children had to have come from somewhere. But now that Czechia didn't want anything to do with her she thought 'fuck it' and went along with a relationship that she didn't really want, but by now wasn't going to refuse either. And they would just stay that way, off and on, usually just sleeping with each other not much actual substance, but not so little that either would leave. They were just Stuck.
Jumping forward a bit to her death, she and Germany had a little less than a month overlap. He was born July 12th, 1806; and she died August 6th, 1806. She was already very sick when he was born, but asked to see him every day without fail. Austria told her eventually that he was sending Germany to live with Prussia, deemed he would be safer anywhere but Vienna. She argued with him over that, for a long time; insisted she wouldn't trust Brandenburg or Prussia to rear a child if they were some of the last people on earth. Austria got fed up, told her Germany was his son and he would do whatever he wanted with him. She argued back Germany was her heir, and she believed her heir should be raised in Vienna, not Königsburg, not Berlin, not Potsdam, Vienna. The argument stood until her death two weeks later, Austria to this day wishes he hadn't told her.
Everyone in the house knew about Heidi's fear, there wasn't a single person in Europe that didn't know about it. They all waited for something to register, for it to kick in that she more than likely wouldn't be making it another month, much less another year. But it never did, August 1st she got better, and for a solid two days she was even out of bed; it was during this Austria and Prussia caught her giving Germany a little speech.
"Now, you'll be taking over my job. I'm not promising it's an easy one because it isn't. The ones under you are insane, every last one, constantly fighting and they're changing all the time; every time you turn around someone new will have shown up, or someone else will have disappeared. I hope not too many disappear on you, but eventually you get used to it, and not in a sad way, in a "maybe they're off living their own life without the responsibility of thousands of peoples lives now". Unfortunately the annoying ones stick around the longest, your father is one, your uncle Gilbert is another. Saxony, Bavaria, Hesse, Brandenburg etc.. you'll have to get used to them, I don't think they're going anywhere. I know your parents are worried for you right now, but I'm sure it's completely unfounded and they're just dramatic. You'll be just fine... I wish I could stay to watch you grow up, i'm sure you'll be in charge of this whole continent eventually. You have to promise you'll make your family talk about me, don't let them be too sad about it, I want to be known as the interesting aunt not the one who died when you were a baby. Can you promise me that Ludwig?"
after those two days she got bad again though, worse than she was initially, and three days later she passed away. The moment they were waiting for never came, she didn't seem scared about the end; she put in her will someone has to make sure whoever killed her knew that she wasn't scared.
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The Half-Grim Reaper girl: Undertaker's daughter (future):
Rui gets adopted 🕷️
Warnings: Mentions of Death, Attempted murder, and Abuse.
(A/n: Rui is such a Cinnamon roll when I found out his backstory at the end of the Mt. Natagumo arc.)
The Demon Slayer dimension in Mt. Natagumo....
Originally the reason why it was called that because of the Spider Demon Family. But with it gone except Rui who survived because of her accidentally and unintentionally to regain his human memories prior and the earlier times when he was turn into a Demon.
The Quarter-Grim Reaper then looks around. “Rui.... Rui, where are you?” she mutters as she looks around. Sophia was then tackle by something or rather someone. The Quarter-Grim Reaper then look up to see the little spider demon. Rui then gives Sophia hug. That made usually stoic Quarter-Grim Reaper girl to crack a smile.
The former Lower Moon 5 looks at Sophia with so much innocence. “I thought you forgot about me, Sophia.” he says as the stoic Slytherin girl then pats his head. “I would never forget you, Rui. I made a promise to your parents’ spirits that we will raise you with the love they couldn't give you. But always remember they will always be with you no matter what.” she says as that made the Spider Demon smile.
Rui gives Sophia a tight hug making her let out a breathy laugh. “Thank you so much, Sophia.” He says “You're welcome, Rui.. Just remember that I'm always here for you no matter what may happen.” she says.
Before the Quarter-Grim Reaper girl could think about teleporting herself with the Spider Demon. She then gently took out a bracelet which she enchanted so it acts as a protection. If Rui walks out in the sun so he wouldn't get burn. Sophia then teleports both of them to her home dimension. When she did, they both saw her mother was waiting for her patiently. Y/n was surprised to see Sophia carrying Rui in her arms as the Spider Demon looks at her innocently.
The Goth Lady then gives her daughter a questioning look. The usually stoic Slytherin girl sighs. “It’s not what it looks like, Mother. When he confronted me I accidentally casted a spell which causes him to regain the memories of his past when he was still a human.” she starts before looking at Rui. “Not only that it also broke Kibutsuji’s curse.” he finishes. Y/n was surprised he said the name of the progenitor of the Demons in his dimension but it didn't kill him. Sophia notice this as she then sighs. “The curse broke as well after I accidentally and unintentionally cast the spell. I did communicate with Rui’s family when he was a human and of course found out the true reason why they wanted to kill him. Because they care about him as they don't want him to kill innocent people. Which is why they not only try to kill but themselves with him.” she then explains as Y/n looks surprised. Rui looks down. “I was angry and furious but when I found out the true reason. I now understood on why they did it. Because they truly love me.” he says.
The Goth Lady then has hunch on why. “Were you born frail and weak?” she carefully asks the Spider Demon who was in her daughter's arms. Rui nods his head in confirmation. “I was. I always wanted to play with the other children but I couldn't because of how weak my body was when I'm still a human. Then Kibutsuji offered to turn me into a Demon. So I did but I didn't know it would cost my humanity. One night, my parents caught me devouring our neighbor and they both tried to kill me. Out of anger I killed them. Which is something I regret when Sophia unintentionally make regain me my past memories of my human life. The emptiness in my heart even after crafting a family of my own.” he explains. Y/n felt bad for this boy some demons in his dimension devour out of sadness, fear, and despair.
“As time went on, I got insane because of the emptiness I felt. I've been given a permission to craft a family of my own by Kibutsuji. But it was rather fake as most people would see it. I ended up torturing my fake family members whenever they disobey. However, I regret the things I did after I remember my life when I was still a human and the truth why my parents tried to kill me that day.” The Spider Demon adds to his explanation while he clings on to Sophia. The Goth Lady notice this. “He seem to gotten so attach to you, sweetheart.” she carefully points out while her daughter nod in confirmation. “Well, very quickly, mother.” she says.
Y/n then looks at the white-haired boy. “Rui,” she says which makes Rui looks at her. “Do you want us to adopt you? If you want...” she asks the former Lower Moon 5. Rui then looks at Sophia before looking at Y/n. He thinks about carefully. “If it meant to stay with Sophia. Yes, I want to get adopted by you.” he says. The Goth Lady smiles. She'll have to ask Severus about this later.
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Are ya doin Tiny Scene Sunday? If so, could ya do Verity + playground on a cloudy day hehe
Hey @midnights-melodiverse! This has been a long time coming because I've been dealing with a LOT of personal shit and haven't been able to write anything outside of assignments recently, but here goes!
Warning in advance, and the reason I'm putting it under a cut: this piece is very sad, discusses death of children, miscarriage, domestic abuse a little bit, etc but it's the idea I had when I saw this prompt so uhhhhh YEP! I'll reblog the Fool of Death taglist in a little bit, but read at your own risk, please!!
Also this is non-canon! Just a little scene to work out some of Verity's personal brain stuff.
Verity had always wanted to love playgrounds. Ever since they had entered mass production in the 60's, right after she had moved back to New York, she felt some sort of kinship with them. Honestly, she wished that someone had come up with them sooner, so that the generations of children she had helped enter this world would have a space that was welcoming. That was meant for them. They tugged at her heart, and though she tended to stay out of the sun (for obvious reasons), she would often risk it and keep the Central Park-side window open just to hear the sounds of children playing as she worked during the day. It was a comfort. It reminded her of Benevolence, honestly. Benevolence before, when she was so desperate to have a child of her own. Benevolence, who had had two daughters stillborn, both that Verity had delivered.
On the nicer days, back before anything had occurred, Verity used to walk around the village when Credence was out (the only time she could walk around the village unless she was working) and imagine what it would be like for her own children to one day run around, as everyone else's children so often did. She pretended not to know about her own infertility, or about how that was such a detriment to her marriage. She had failed her husband and had failed her God, of course. It gave Credence a free pass to treat her how he liked. He wasn't worth her thought, though, not now, not back then, not ever.
Yes, Verity had always loved playgrounds, but she had never had a place even remotely near them. Even as a doctor, even as a midwife. She couldn't remember much from being a human, but she could remember enough to feel like she didn't belong. And besides, it wasn't like she longed for children anymore. A child wouldn't have made her life complete- honestly, a child would have complicated her situation further and made it harder for her to escape.
But every so often, when the weather was nice, and by nice of course one must assume it to be terrible, she found herself grabbing her parasol and going to sit on a swing. It was enough for her, because it had to be enough. Feeling the faint mist of rain landing on her skin, the scent of asphalt heavy on the air. Her past was a painful and dark sort of thing, but without it, she wouldn't be anywhere close to where she had gotten today. She wouldn't have had the chance. And without the children in the playgrounds, laughing and shrieking and not understanding how large the world truly is, she would have given up a long time ago.
#fool of death#verity#she doesn't think about being human often bc she wishes she could forget#and this little tidbit isn't even something I could get into in the actual novel#oops lol!#my writing#creative writing#writeblr#my wips#my ocs#writing#about the author#vampires
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I have to say it's so refreshing to see someone unafraid to criticise Ar/ya. It feels like I get more tired of her character on each re-read I do, and her stans' insane, overly aggressive behavior makes it difficult to like her. Although personally like you I don't care for her trope-y type of character either. I think she was a whiny little crybaby in her early chapters and awful to her sister until they were about to sail to WF. How do fans ignore all that but see occasional mean words of Sansa as satanic?? Anyway, that was rant-y, but thank you.
Hello Anon,
Thank you very much.
The thing is I am in this fandom since 2011 and I am too tired and old to try to censor my thoughts at this point. I used to be more understanding to her character and I actually didn't have many problems with her. If anything I even liked her first (I think it was because Arya actor was so cute in the show) and I was looking forward for Sansa-Arya reunion.
At first I wasn't into fandom that much so I wasn't aware of the fact that her fans HATE Sansa for fanon reasons. After witnessing that in the worst way I tried to understand why do they hate Sansa so much. And I realized that it was because they were totally misreading the characters and the dynamics. I also realized that Arya was much darker than I thought when I first read her.
Just like you said, her character really suffers from re-readings. You start to realize that she was bratty, rude, ill-behaved and violent. Her underdog/overlooked persona is just a fabricated false narrative (or maybe I should say written unconvincingly). When you first read her POVs without paying too much attention, you think she suffers as the unsatisfactory sister because of Sansa but in truth she is just jealous and it is HER who makes her sister life difficult. You realize that Sansa is actually the overlooked child who is trying too hard to have the attention of her father but Ned simply ignores her as a real human being with her own feelings and desires while focusing on Arya. When you see this dynamic, AGOT makes more sense. You understand how even a father who loves all his children can totally ruin his children's lives.
People love to say that Sansa was so rude to Arya and she was only truly rude her when she LOST everything (and Arya had a part in those) and Arya had everything she ever desired while being the troublemaker in the first place. Also watch how that scene goes:
Their father sighed. “I did not call you here to talk of dresses. I’m sending you both back to Winterfell.”
For the second time Sansa found herself too stunned for words. She felt her eyes grow moist again.
“You can’t,” Arya said.
“Please, Father,” Sansa managed at last. “Please don’t.”
Eddard Stark favored his daughters with a tired smile. “At last we’ve found something you agree on.”
Look at Arya saying SHE DOESN'T WANT TO LEAVE KL.
She is objecting to her father..
WOW what a little betrayer. How can she betray Ned like that? SMH...
Father’s mouth twitched strangely. “Sansa, I’m not sending you away for fighting, though the gods know I’m sick of you two squabbling. I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety. Three of my men were cut down like dogs not a league from where we sit, and what does Robert do? He goes hunting.”
Arya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had. “Can we take Syrio back with us?”
“Who cares about your stupid dancing master?” Sansa flared. “Father, I only just now remembered, I can’t go away, I’m to marry Prince Joffrey.” She tried to smile bravely for him.”
Look at Arya willfully asking sth she DESIRES. (Btw if she couldn't have Syrio she would totally talk to him about this- them returning WF- because that girl is WILLFULL like Lyanna right? You can't call her Lyanna2.0 without accepting this, I am sorry)
PURE EVIL!! (also Sansa is always rude in her thoughts... until the very end she just keeps it to herself about how Arya is not pretty, dirty, naughty etc... she doesn't share her opinion with Arya... But I am sure no one has ever thought harmless but bad things about someone they actually love... no one!! Only too kind to share her thoughts Sansa has done this)
Arya made a face. “Not if Joffrey’s his father,” she said. “He’s a liar and a craven and anyhow he’s a stag, not a lion.”
Sansa felt tears in her eyes. “He is not! He’s not the least bit like that old drunken king,” she screamed at her sister, forgetting herself in her grief.
Sansa is literally crying and losing herself in grief of broken dreams and Arya thinks this is the best time to talk shit about the boy she likes... (Jon says he looks like a girl 2.0)
“I am looking for a fast trading galley to take you home. These days, the sea is safer than the kingsroad. You will sail as soon as I can find a proper ship, with Septa Mordane and a complement of guards…and yes, with Syrio Forel, if he agrees to enter my service. But say nothing of this. It’s better if no one knows of our plans. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
Sansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.
Arya as usual gets what she wants while being the trouble child and people pleaser Sansa is once again being punished. Sansa is crying, depressed and she already told us that SHE LOST HERSELF IN HER GRIEF.
“It won’t be so bad, Sansa,” Arya said. “We’re going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we’ll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest.” She touched her on the arm.
“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!” She wrenched away from her sister’s hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.
I am sorry but it easy to be kind (?) when you win everything and the other person is losing ALL. (and don't forget that this Arya had a heartfelt conversation with her father about her hatred and trauma... unlike Sansa)
And even in her consolation you can see that she is still blind to her sister's desires. Sansa doesn't want to sail and have adventures (LOL THE SHIP GIRL IS LOADING) Arya... that's not Sansa... that's YOU.
Also why the fck Hodor?? Why would seeing Hodor be same as becoming a queen in a place you find magical?? And if my sister tried to console me like this I would freaking lose it too. (let me also say that it wasn't little Arya's job to cheer/console her sister in the first place, it was Ned's but he is... idiot)
So Sansa calls her stupid, hairy and ugly at the end of her patience (after Arya insulting her future husband, after Arya being rude to her future family, after Arya doing sth she wasn't supposed to like playing with butcher boys, after Arya being rude to the prince, after Arya attacking the prince, after losing Lady because of Arya's wolf, after Arya being hateful to her, after Ned being distant to her while being there for Arya, after Arya once again insulting her future husband, after losing the chance for your dreams to come true while Arya having all that she desired).
Give her a break for real. I would be worse ngl. And I am sorry but calling your sister's any hobby/interest stupid and attacking her physically MORE THAN ONCE is just as bad (if not worse... it's worse imo..)
BTW why doesn't Sansa just call her HORSEFACE and done with it? I thought she was constantly bullying her with that name? Can't believe she doesn't use that name when she was the lowest and the angriest.
Because Sansa-I AM TOO KIND AND COURTESY IS EVERYTHING- Stark totally would use that word!! I am sure she uses that name.. Let me find it!! She had to think about it at least... she had to acknowledge that name at some point:
404 NOT FOUND.
Sansa's proper as* has never used that word. She has never even acknowledged that word but Arya can't be wrong ofc because only Sansa is the unreliable narrator... (Arya didn't misremember the name of Joff's sword or Jon didn't misremember that it was actually him who called Tyrion a friend not the other way around but Sansa is the only UN people...)
And it is funny because Sansa acknowledges she has a horsey face:
"Myrcella is a little baby." Arya grabbed Nymeria around her neck, but the moment she pulled out the brush again the direwolf wriggled free and bounded off. Frustrated, Arya threw down the brush. "Bad wolf!" she shouted.
Sansa couldn't help but smile a little. The kennelmaster once told her that an animal takes after its master. She gave Lady a quick little hug. Lady licked her cheek. Sansa giggled. Arya heard and whirled around, glaring. "I don't care what you say, I'm going out riding." Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful.
"Gods be true, Arya, sometimes you act like such a child," Sansa said. "I'll go by myself then. It will be ever so much nicer that way. Lady and I will eat all the lemon cakes and just have the best time without you." [AGOT- Sansa I]
So why has she NEVER used that name? What was stopping her EVEN in her THOUGHTS? Anyway... in any case Arya was worse as a sister so I understand why her stans are holding so tightly on "bully Sansa" narrative. Sad.
After re-readings you realize Sansa is actually the outsider of the family. 90% of her family simply don't deserve her for real but whatever.
But I want to say this again: My problem is not Arya as a character. It is the fanon characterization of Sansa by her fans and the author's really weak and forced writing when it comes to Arya. Even when I criticize her you can see that I am mostly angry at characters like Ned, the author himself and her fans. If they were more objective toward Sansa then I wouldn't be bothered by her character this much.
Thanks for the ask.
#mine#anon#ask#answered#reply#anti arya stark#anti arya stans#sansa stark#sansa stark defense squad#asoiaf#ned stark critical#grrm critical
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Part 1: The Meeting
<<Masterlist>> <<Previous>> <<Next>>
Bodyguard!Orc x Princess!Reader
Summary: Y/N, the princess of Evermore, the beauty of the west. She had many suitors, many men, and women who wanted her by their side. Too bad her eyes were already set the day he came to save her life.
Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks (sorta), medieval fighting
~~~
Princess Y/N was a kind soul. Always tended to her princess duties and went out of her way to give to the lower class. Everyone loved her, and they knew she would be a wonderful queen.
When word got out about the attempted assassination, the people were outraged that someone would dare hurt their beloved princess. Y/N Could still feel the man's glove-clad hand grasp her face to silence her screams every time she closed her eyes, and she didn't know how to get the image out of her head.
The morning breeze soothed her warm skin as she walked outside and into the growing gardens of her castle. The beautiful greens of the grass and plants paired with the myriad of colours that decorated the flowers set the frantic princess' mind at ease. She had one hell of a night, and it took hours for her to get a good night's rest. Her mind was plagued with nightmares of her death and the death of her people. She just wished it wouldn't come true.
Y/N had worn a lilac dress that morning, lace on the sleeves, and a large bow on the back. It was her favorite, and she wanted to wear it to bring up her mood. She didn't want anyone to see the wound on her arm, but the bulk of the bandages showed through her frilly sleeves.
"M'lady. The king requests you." Y/N handmaiden, Cassandra, spoke quietly, breaking the serenity of the garden. The princess's shoulders deflated, and she hung her head low before she smiled at her friend.
"Do you know what about?" She asked, linking her good arm with Cassandra's. The maiden giggled and shook her head playfully.
"Your knight is coming to protect you. They're having a contest to see who could protect you the best." Cassandra grinned. Y/N's cheeks flushed, and she gasped.
"Today? Do I look alright?" The woman began to unnecessarily judge herself, muttering curses of how she should have done her hair better.
"You look fine." Cassandra giggled. They walked down the large corridor and through the guards that stood straighter at the sight of their princess. Y/N nodded and bowed to everyone she passed politely, a smile stuck on her face in her princess facade.
"Daughter, you took long enough." Her father playfully scolded, holding a hand out to help her into the royal chair. They were in the courtyard where entertainers, fighters, or jousters came to do their thing.
As Y/N looked amongst the crowd, she saw many creatures in knight armor. Ranging from tieflings to humans. But one she hadn't seen before, someone massive in size. It was well known that Evermore was more of the accepting kind when it came to other races, but not many creatures of that size came to the lovely kingdom. And they were all fighting for her favor as a personal guard. She felt as though the taller one would win. She couldn't see his face or even his skin to tell what he could be, but she didn't care. The princess didn't necessarily want a personal guard, but if she was to get one, she wanted it to be someone who could truly protect her life.
"Which do you think would win, princess?" A voice asked behind her. Y/N turned to see a man she's never met before. He was handsome; bright blue eyes and dark brown hair with chiseled features, but she wasn't too interested. He smiled at her with an attempt to be charming, but she knew the play.
"The tall one." She replied, pointing towards the looming figure as he practiced by his lonesome.
"Ah yes, that one. He seems pretty strong." He chuckled, and Y/N realized he had an accent that wasn't from Evermore.
"What's your name?" Y/N asked curiously. However, before he could respond, the tournament speaker began his speech about the rules and how the tournament would go.
The trumpets sounded, and two knights stepped up before they began to fight. Swords clashing and metal banging sounded around the courtyard, and Y/N was on the edge of her seat every time a knight fell. She hoped they weren't too injured, but she had to admit, it was interesting to watch them fight.
By the time the last two were up, it was two large men, clad head to toe in thick armor, but Y/N noticed the one she kept her eyes on. The tall one with bulging muscles. She bit her lip as they started, gasping when the clashing of swords and their blasts against armor. But ultimately, she was correct; the tall one was the champion. The crowd cheered loudly as the last man fell, and the tall man roared triumphantly.
The princess stood from her place and straightened out the skirt of her dress. Everyone gasped when the creature took off his helmet, revealing an orc to be the champion. Orcs used to be the villains of Evermore's story, but the war had ended, and they were at peace. However, that doesn't mean many orcs came into Evermore and never came to protect their princess. Y/N looked around at the shocked faces of her people and squared her shoulders before she walked out of the royal seating and to the courtyard where the champion stood.
Everyone watched their princess with wary eyes and shifted in their seats as she approached him. The closer she looked, he was taller than she expected. Thrice her size, and he had a scowl upon his handsome features. His skin was a pale green, and he had large tusks sticking out from his mouth. His mean stare didn't detour the princess as she smiled and bowed politely to the knight.
"It seems you have won. What is your name?" She asked, clasping her hand behind her back. He huffed a piece of stray black hair away from his eyes, the long strands reaching past his shoulders. He bowed to her when she walked closer, propping his arm onto his knee.
"Rhudrak Fang Cracker." He replied. His voice was gruff, as though he had gargled rocks before he spoke.
"Well, Rhudrak Fang Cracker. It is nice to meet you. I will be happy to work with you." The crowd cheered then, the piercing noise almost startling the princess. She turned to look at the crowd before looking back at her knight.
"Yes! This man is my daughter's champion. The one who will protect her with his life. Do you agree?" Her father asked, walking into the courtyard as well. Her father was a very accepting man, and no matter the fact that he witnessed orcs kill many of his people, he would never discriminate against a man who wanted to protect his only daughter.
"I agree," Rhudrak responded. King Gustus nodded, and Y/N smiled at the crowd as the royal family plus the knight and other guards walked back to the castle. Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at the steely man. She found it very interesting that an orc would want to protect her. And he looked so mysterious. She just wandered-
"Y/N, dearest." Her mother scolded. Y/N tore her eyes away from her knight with warm cheeks and turned to her mother.
"Yes, mother?" She asked. Meira shook her head disapprovingly and continued walking.
"Your father was talking to you." She hissed. Y/N bowed her head in embarrassment, and she could've sworn she saw a ghost of a smile on her Rhudrak's face.
"While you were in your fantasy land, I was discussing the rules of your supervisor and how you must act." He told her with a kind and understanding smile. Y/N was very close to her father, and she was glad to have him understand how easy it was for her to get lost in the clouds. Unlike her strict mother.
"What are his rules?"
"No. Your rules." Her father corrected. Y/N gasped and choked on her spit before she looked at the people in front of her.
"What do you mean 'my' rules?" Y/N asked incredulously.
"You are not to leave the sight of Rhudrak. The only time you will be alone is when in your chambers, safe. You will do what he asks of you. If he tells you to run, to hide, or even to walk, you do it. He is there to protect you; let him do his job. No running around the halls in the middle of the nights anymore. People are after you, my dear, and I couldn't stand losing you. It almost happened once, and I will not let it happen again." Her father told her. She wanted to roll her eyes, to pout and say 'not fair.' But she almost died that night. The visions still haunt her in her sleep and even during the day. She knew if she wanted to survive, she must do what her father asks of her.
"Yes, father." She replied solemnly, all traces of humor gone from the conversation.
"Now go make yourselves acquainted while showing him his room. It's the one next to yours." Y/N nodded and looked at her parents awkwardly as they walked away.
"Your room is this way on the third floor," Y/N spoke. She was exhausted from the excitement of the day and had zero social energy, but she knew she had to do it anyways.
"Third floor? How do you even get upstairs with those tiny shoes on?" Rhudrak chuckled. Y/N hid her giggle behind her hand and shook her head as they approached the stairway.
"With difficulty. Try walking around hours a day with a corset on." She scoffed. Rhudrak laughed loudly but quickly quieted down.
"Tell me about the night of your attack." He asked suddenly. Y/N was taken aback by the sudden question as they walked up the many stairs.
"Well... I couldn't sleep. I think that's the only reason I'm alive right now. He wore a black mask with strange symbols on it. He was human-sized. That's all remember." She said. She was lying of course. She could remember so much more. The blue of his eyes and the stench of leather as his hand clamped down onto her mouth. She couldn't breathe when he sat on her. She felt hopeless and the gleam of the moonlight on his blade made her shiver with unease.
"Princess?" Rhudrak asked gently, looking at her with a thoughtful gaze. She snapped out of her wandering thoughts and shook her head with a smile.
"Well, here you are. My chambers are right here. I'll let you get settled in." She said with a bow, walking back to her room. She shut the door gently and allowed herself to break slightly at the memory of her attack, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.
Taglist!
@vanta-monsters @inosh-k @sylum
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Cheval Glass
Cheval was a dreamer, staring off into space with a pencil stuck conveniently behind her ear was how her friends often found her. The world had so much to offer and so many secrets to uncover, so of course Cheval, who hailed from the region that would later be known as Prance, couldn't stay in one place. That was how she met her friends and she brought her brilliant ideas along with her. Chev was the first to chime in with ideas that sounded so ridiculous they just might have worked! Since she was already known as a bit of a weirdo nobody questioned it when she started having magical visions about a world of hairless bipeds, especially not her friends who were some of the only ponies to understand the fickleness of magic at the time. Needless to say ponies have the Element of Creativity to thank for things like the crystal mirror to the human world and the mirror pool that would come in handy when the six mares would least expect it.
Cloud Walker
Cloud hit the ground running since the day she was born but the one thing she never ran from was a problem! She always had her friends backs and had a hard time saying no, but not because she was afraid. C.W. would never have turned her back on a challenge anyway but she got a certain reserve of bravery knowing that she was facing the impossible for her friends. Although she was a bit of a thrill seeker as well so it would be dishonest to say putting herself in danger wasn't a perk of the job. Whenever Cloud actually stood still the vitality shot through her like electricity, an animated pony whose enduring energy few would be able to forget- even less so for those who saw her run. At its core though, running was one thing that wasn't about the glory or the chase. When she would run through the land she felt freer than the pegasi in the sky.
Skywhinny
If you got to know her you'd see she was like anypony else but most of the time Skywhinny seemed like the black sheep of her friend group, even next to the Alicorn of Death. She could be a bit obsessive at times. Whether it was her pursuit of crystal magic or worrying about every little thing that could possibly go wrong her mind was always a bit occupied. At the end of the day though she wasn’t totally half-glass empty just yet. Skywhinny understood that despite the very real dangers out there other creatures could still be trusted. It was her belief that creatures…if you truly gave them a chance, were honest and sincere at heart that allowed her to connect to the other elements of harmony and eventually one very special pony that brought her her daughter. Long before that, though, Skywhinny was an overall idealistic pony. Her anxiety and her deep trust for her friends meant she couldn’t let a problem go. For better or for worse she always wanted to get to the bottom of things and could come across as a bit of an antagonist.
Perfect Refrain
Perfect Refrain was like a sweet birdsong in pony form, she flew through the ponylands at the crack of dawn to greet the world as it awoke. She was quite the theatrical mare as well but never at the expense of others. Refrain was incredibly passionate about making everypony know there was someone in their corner. Every day she made sure to stop by and say hello to the ponies who lived near her. If there were favors or errands they could use help with she’d always lend a hoof. It wasn't anywhere near blind hatred yet but the pony tribes still lived somewhat separately, so she would help plan things and encourage all the tribes to participate. Her biggest strength though, was with foals! She loved to dazzle and entertain them with the flight trails and dances she could do, all the while teaching them how to be better ponies and friends. Her favorite filly to foalsit for was the child of her close friends, Princess Celestia. She would be too young at the time to remember that much detail, but needless to say, when she would later go on to see the first Wonderbolts performance, she would feel incredibly nostalgic for her times with Perfect Refrain.
Sterling Rainbow and Golden Darkness' actual elements are Humanity and Spirituality
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Base by https://www.deviantart.com/emeraldjeweltm
#mlp#my little pony#GlamCanon#headcanon#my art#elements of harmony#oc#character design#oc bio#celestia#mlp headcanon
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Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation
WORD COUNT: 5.8k
WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.
Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.
It'd cut deep, this one.
So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.
Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.
Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.
Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.
It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.
It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.
He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.
Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.
Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.
Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.
This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.
And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.
But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.
Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.
Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.
He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.
Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.
Because so much could've happened to prevent this.
His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.
And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.
She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.
Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.
The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.
The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.
But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.
It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.
"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"
Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.
"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.
Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.
He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.
And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.
It was the only viable explanation.
He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.
"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."
"Not good, ma. But he's home now."
"And you're sure of that?"
"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."
"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"
Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.
It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.
She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.
So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.
The same way that she found comfort as a kid.
He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."
"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.
But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.
"Did he say anything?"
"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."
"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"
"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."
Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.
Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.
"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.
"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."
She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.
"He'll be home soon--I should take off."
"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.
As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.
It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.
And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.
"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."
Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.
"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."
Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.
The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.
"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."
He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.
"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"
"It's about one o'clock."
"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"
Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.
Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.
Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.
He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.
"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."
"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"
Your favorite son.
"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."
"That was their rationale?"
"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"
"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."
"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."
Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.
"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"
"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."
Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.
It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.
She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.
Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.
And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.
She never knew anything about her mother's passing.
Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.
"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."
His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.
Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.
"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"
"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"
"Well, she's always been unpredictable."
"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.
"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"
She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.
And Jax was sick of it.
Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.
"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."
"Where?" Chibs demanded.
But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.
It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.
It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.
He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.
But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.
And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.
He had to intercept.
He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.
But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.
"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.
He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.
Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.
Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.
But she wasn't scared.
Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.
Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.
It was horrible. Sick.
She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.
The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.
Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.
If it hadn't already, that was.
She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.
And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.
But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.
Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.
She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.
"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.
It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.
The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.
Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.
"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.
The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.
"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"
"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"
His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.
She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.
"Let me clean you up."
"You don't gotta--"
"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."
Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.
Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.
Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.
"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.
"I walked--"
"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."
She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"
"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.
Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."
Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.
"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."
"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."
"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."
"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."
Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.
"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.
The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.
"I like the pain."
"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.
Why he would do this to himself tonight.
"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.
"You think I got a pretty face?"
"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.
She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.
"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."
"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."
She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.
The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.
"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"
"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.
It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.
"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.
"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."
Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.
Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.
He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.
She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.
"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.
Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.
But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.
Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.
"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."
"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."
"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."
God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.
Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.
"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"
"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.
He didn't.
"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"
"You can still be a crier, too."
"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."
"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."
"You think?"
He nodded.
"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."
"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."
"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.
Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.
But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.
"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."
"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."
"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.
"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."
He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.
"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."
"You feel it?"
"Tonight?"
"In general."
She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.
Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.
And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.
"All the time. All the fuckin' time."
"It really never goes away?"
"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."
"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."
"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."
"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.
Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.
"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.
"Does it make me look hot, too?"
"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"
"I've had them before, y'know?"
"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."
He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"
"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."
"You couldn't even if you tried."
"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."
What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.
Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.
Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.
"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.
Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.
Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.
"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."
She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.
Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.
"Tig?"
"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.
Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.
"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.
It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.
She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.
Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.
"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."
#tig trager#tig trager x oc#tig trager fic#tig trager fanfiction#sons of anarchy fic#jax teller#jax teller fanfiction#jax teller x oc#sons of anarchy#sons of anarchy fandom#sons of anarchy fanfiction
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Character ask: Sleeping Beauty
Tagged by @ariel-seagull-wings
These answers apply to the unnamed Princess from Perrault's version, to the Grimms' Briar Rose, to Disney's Aurora, to Aurora from Tchaikovsky's ballet, to Rosebud from the Cannon Movie Tales version, and to all other traditional adaptations of the character. Not to Zellandine or Talia from the pre-Perrault versions (those poor girls who fall asleep as virgins and wake up as mothers), or to the live-action Maleficent duology's Aurora.
Favorite thing about them: She's a sweet, charming, innocent princess. It's easy to like her and root for her.
In the specific case of Disney's Aurora, I like her regal demeanor – it never detracts from her ability to be joyful, innocent and playful, yet she has a truly princess-like dignity that makes her fit in with the film's medieval tapestry-like world better than the cute Snow White or the girl-next-door Cinderella ever would have. I love her voice too. She's the only Disney princess to be a truly operatic soprano and Mary Costa's performance couldn't be more lovely.
Least favorite thing about them: As with the other most famous sleeping fairy tale princess, Snow White, who she is as a person matters less to the story than how other people feel about her and what they do to her. The characters who really drive the story are her parents, the fairies, and the Prince, while she herself matters less as a human being then as a love object. This isn't her fault, it's just the story structure, but she more or less fails the Sexy Lamp Test; she's a lamp which someone turns off, leaving its light much missed, but in the end someone else turns it on again and everyone is happy.
Three things I have in common with them:
*I'm an only child.
*My parents sheltered me quite a bit when I was growing up (not because I was cursed, but because I was neurodivergent).
*I'm a dog person, and in Perrault's version, the Cannon Movie Tales' adaptation, and several artists' illustrations, Sleeping Beauty has a dog who sleeps next to her.
Three things I don't have in common with them:
*I'm not royalty.
*I've never been put under a spell.
*None of the few fancy dresses I own are either pink or blue.
Favorite line: The lyrics to "I Wonder" and "Once Upon a Dream" from the Disney version.
brOTP: In the Disney version, Flora, Fauna and Merryweather. In other versions, her parents; her old nurse and the friendly elf in the Cannon Move Tales adaptation; and in both Perrault's version and the Cannon adaptation, her dog, Puff.
OTP: The Prince/Phillip.
nOTP: The Old Fairy/Maleficent.
Random headcanon: I think I'll have to borrow one from @ariel-seagull-wings. The Grimms' Briar Rose (that's her real name in their version) will have three children: Aurora, her eldest daughter, and then twins, a boy and a girl, named Sun and Moon, or else names with those meanings, like Sole and Luna or Helios and Selene.
In the early Italian version of the story, Sun, Moon and Talia, the heroine, Talia, has two children named Sun and Moon. In Perrault's version, the princess has two children named Morning (or Aurore) and Day – this is where Tchaikovsky's ballet got the name "Aurora" for the princess herself, which the Disney version and many subsequent retellings have also used. In the Grimms' version and most others, of course, the story ends before she has any children. I love@ariel-seagull-wings' headcanon because not only does it draw on the two early versions, but it reflects the fact that in Greek mythology, Dawn, Moon and Sun (Eos, Selene and Helios) are two sisters and a brother.
Unpopular opinion: I don't think she's a weak protagonist; I think she's not really the protagonist at all. Not of any version of the story, with very few exceptions. The story generally works best when Sleeping Beauty's parents or parental figures are treated as the protagonists. Disney knew this, because Flora, Fauna and Merryweather are the real protagonists of the animated version, while the live-action Maleficent is both her movie's protagonist and becomes Aurora's mother figure. And in more traditional retellings, I think the main emotional heart of the story usually comes from the King and Queen: their longing for a child, their joy when she's born, their efforts to protect her, their grief when she falls under the spell, and their joy when they wake up, reunite with her and see her happily wed. I'd really like to see a retelling that emphasized the King and Queen as the protagonists and made it first and foremost a story about parenting, with the sleeping spell clearly representing the transition from childhood to adulthood, and her parents' futile attempts to prevent it symbolizing the universal parental wish to stop a child from growing up.
Song I associate with them:
Disney's "Once Upon a Dream," of course.
youtube
"I Wonder," also from the Disney version.
youtube
And the original orchestral piece from which both of the above are derived, the Garland Waltz from Tchaikovsky's The Sleeping Beauty ballet:
youtube
(It's interesting that the original Garland Waltz doesn't even feature Aurora or directly advance the story. It's just a group of peasant maidens bringing garlands of flowers for Aurora's sixteenth birthday. Yet it's not only the most famous passage from the ballet, but has become more or less inextricable from the story of Sleeping Beauty in pop culture, featuring again and again in major adaptations in some form or another.)
Favorite pictures of them:
This illustration by Margaret Tarrant:
This one by Warwick Goble – the only artist I know to give her black hair, not apparently concerned about making her look too much like Snow White:
This one by Margaret Evans Price:
Disney's Aurora:
Bernadette Peters in the Faerie Tale Theatre adaptation – I like the Russian aesthetic of this version!:
Tanhée Welch (Raquel Welch's daughter) in the Cannon Movie Tales version – the only other dark haired Sleeping Beauty I can think of besides Goble's illustration:
These illustrations by Trina Schart Hyman:
This illustration by Kinuko Craft, showing the distraught King and Queen taking their daughter to her bed after they find her collapsed by the spinning wheel:
This illustration by Christian Birmingham:
#sleeping beauty#princess aurora#briar rose#fairy tale#ask game#fictional characters#character ask#fictional character ask#Youtube
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She asked him to take her to it, her headstone. The one they made for her when she (Or rather 'Connie Maheswaran') supposedly died. She didn't exactly know why she wanted to see it; maybe it would jog some memories of who she was before becoming ' Sara's grand jewel' ...Before becoming 'Sheva.' Even the thought of those times enrages her to no end; how Connie was used as a tool of murder, espionage, seduction, and entrapment.
"Connie, you ok?"
Steven's voice, sweet, protective, and lovingly caring, as was his grip on her shoulder. The way her name ( Connie's name) came out of his voice sent waves of affection throughout her nervous system. Even after a month of traveling together, she still wasn't used to the new [old] moniker, nor did she feel she deserved it, but she wasn't going to stop Steven from calling her that.
"Connie?"
"Y-Yeah!" It came out brokenly harsh, more than initially intended.
"Sorry, Connie."
The guilt in his voice, slight as it was, hurt her heart immensely.
"No-nonono! You're ok! I promise, and I'm stupid, pleasekeepholdingmyshoulders !"
She covered her mouth and turned around before she became more of a babbling mess, something that has been becoming more common.
Ever since that dream...Hell, ever since they reunited (met), told her his name, and ripped that collar off of her; that spark of need, of craving...Of humanity seem to grow brighter gradually with every smile, touch, or kind deed her hero sent her way and how scared it made her to lose him. The adoration he sent her way, how it warmed her heart to the point of feeling burned.
How she would excuse herself before breaking into full-on bawling on more than one occasion. Steven was wasting it on her; she couldn't even understand natural human affection anymore.
She was so broken.
Connie breathed out before turning to him. "I'm...sorry that was weird of me...I'm strange...And umm... Nervous."
"I would believe so," He gave her a ginger smirk, holding his hand out to her," We're about to visit your memorial. "
"Connie's memorial." She snided before she could stop herself. "Ah..I-"
"One and the same." Steven interrupted, kissing her hand softly before massaging it with his thumb as he interlaced his hands with hers, giving her a small but loving smile. "Come on. You don't want anyone to find us, right?" He whispered, wiping her cheek of a runaway tear.
She could only nod and offer him a silent smile. He was right; she didn't want any of the residents of his (and hers as well, she figured) hometown to know they were here(her nervousness, caused by him).
It was twilight when they traveled to the cliff overlooking Beach City and Little Homeworld (spending most of their day at an abandoned lighthouse), remaining unnoticed by the populace (their attention on something called ' Beach-a-palooza'). What greeted them was not a simple headstone.
In her sights was a statue of who she was...Of ' Connie Maheswaran.' Made of marble, Ice and layered by some illuminated solid of cobalt stood a picture-perfect image of herself(?)Brandishing a naked blade on her shoulder with a star hilt, silky hair flowing down to her upper-back with some resting on her shoulders and an attractive bang, dressed in a crop letterman jacket with a star on the breast over a sporty halter top, low-rise Bermuda shorts, a pair of thigh-high stockings some loosely laced boots but obviously secured.
'Well...At least, they didn't take my fashion sense.' She mused, taking a look at her current outfit, a mimic of the statues (ironic or inherited, she didn't know). Looking back up, she focused on the differences.
'Connie's' hair was loose, free, and weightless, while hers was in a tightly braided and heavy reaching her waist.
'Connie's eyes were determined, fiery, full of life and light. In contrast, her eyes were duller, colder, and steeled by guilt (though being with Steven has brightened them up a bit.)
The most contrasting thing would have to be the smile.
Looking at her past self, at 'Connie's' bright and confident grin that displayed her teeth and radiated
Looking at her past self, at 'Connie's' bright and confident grin that displayed her teeth and radiated victory and promise, made her feel small. Seeing that kind of smile on that face, on their face, was so foreign and daunting to her. Someone who hasn't truly smiled or laughed until a month ago, which was due to killing her tormentor (who she still has sob evoking nightmares about). Even still, her smiles were weakly small, few, and full of painful appreciation.
Connie's' laughing, even more so.
"She's beautiful," Connie spoke in reverence to the memorial as she walked into the small garden on Bluebells, Hibiscus, and Orchids with various pictures of her past life that surrounded the statue. Photos of trips with human and gem friends, graduations, various other accomplishments...Moments of bliss with Steven(some with a pink lion).
"She had her whole future ahead of her."
"You can still have a bright future." Steven's voice from behind her.
"Heh." She scoffed, "You're sweet." She turned her eyes to the description under the statue.
- Connie Maheswaran
Student, Friend, Daughter, Sister,
Cherished Crystal Gem & Adored Jambud.
Our valorous knight, who outshines diamonds and stars alike.-
"It's hard to believe that I was her."
" Are ...You are her."
Connie shook her head, "we aren't the same."
"Connie?"
"I don't have that smile."
"You do."
"I'm not that strong."
"You are."
"I can't be as warm as her."
"You can."
"NO, I CAN'T !" Connie yelled, holding herself tightly, "I'm tainted, Steven...Broken. '' she rolled up the back of her top, exposing the numerous shards integrated into her brown back.
"A pile of shards upon flesh from years of experimentation and 'education ,' made into a masterpiece of murder, of violence, of spying, of abduction, of sex." She spat in disgust, nostrils flaring in anger. " How dare you?"
"Connie?" Steven took a step towards the angered ex-weapon.
"How dare you say that about her?" She hiked her breath as a sob came out." How dare you insult her by saying we're the same!? "
"Connie!" Steven turned her to face him. " Rather you want to admit it or not; it doesn't change the fact... You are her!" He said sternly.
"No..." she shook her head. "I can't believe that I can't."
"Connie?"
"She wouldn't do the things I've done."
"You can't blame yourself...You..." He tightened his hold on her shoulders, "they violated you, abused you...You are a victim in this."
"Exactly..."
Steven looked as she stepped out of his hold and pointed to the statue. Her fist clenched and face down. "She's not a victim..."
"Connie..."
"She would never have been a victim. Captured and made into a weapon...a tool." She started to laugh, a shallow sob still in her throat. "This is stupid...I came looking for ways to jog my memory and now, that face to face with it. I wanna reject it."
Steven kept silent as he pulled her in his torso, his arms around Connie's back and nape, keeping her close as she soaked his shirt.
"I'm jealous..."
Steven gazed at the top of her head as she gripped his shirt.
"I'm jealous..." Connie admitted through closed eyes, gritting teeth, trembling lips, and running tears. "I'm jealous at how determined I was. How accomplished I was. How large and bright my smile was..." she looked up at him. " How easy it was to reciprocate your love." It took all her will not to run when he wiped her eyes of tears." She did it so easy, right?"
"You..." He corrected, "You did..."
"Of course.. bet she didn't run from your affection. Lock herself away to cry...Cause she didn't know how to deal with honest adoration...It wasted on me, Steven." She gave him a broken smile, "even now I wanna run away, cause I can't fathom your warmth...I don't deserve you...but I'm afraid that I'll lose you."
"Silly Strawberry." Steven breathed, cupping her cheeks and resting his forehead on hers. "I searched for too long for you and gone through too much to just leave...My heart is yours, Connie."
Connie's fist started trembling as her face glowed in maroon, her heart pounding, and her black eyes seemed to dilate. Before looking down,00, "P-Please...Don't let me go...I really wanna go and hide right now...S-See hehehe...Weak. I'm so weak."
"You're far from weak. A weak person wouldn't take her life back from those who took it."
"Only because you provided a chance with the breaking of the shock collar and of Sara's jaw."
"Still took the chance." He argued. "Don't diminish your courage."
She didn't answer him at first. "I killed her...I threatened you with the same fate right after. How can you not be mad at me? How can you accept me? How can you love me?"
"You're Connie Maheswaran." He answered truthfully, "Not just in the physical way, the night I saved you. The defiant look on your face as I approached." Steven grinned gently, "That more than proves you and her are one and same. It's not hard to love you when I never stopped."
Connie remained silent at his words, but she was decidedly more heated than before as she leaned into his facial hold, holding his hands in her own. "Can you...Can you promise not to leave me alone?
She didn't expect him to answer her question the way he did.
Steven lips caressing hers in a gentle, tender, heartwarmingly familiar lip lock. The feeling
Of his suckling upon her top lip, mixed with the massage of his tongue onto and across her own, made her shiver and evoked moans of need towards him as she gripped his shirt, pulling him closer.
After a few moments, they broke their kiss, breathing a shared breath deeply as he placed his forehead on hers.
"You can't leave me." She pleaded, nuzzling against the bridge of his nose with her own.
Steven answered by pecking her once more, getting a trembling -squeak!- in return.
"I promise that I..."
-Koff!-
Connie could only watch in horror as Steven blood met her face from a wet cough.
Shocked tears ran from his brown eyes down as he took a step back before coughing up more blood. His back in a wet pain. His sight going hazy, watching her look at him with tears streaming down.
"I won't leave......"
Was the last thing he said before the light left his eyes. His last image was something pink joining her side.
#steven universe#connie maheswaran#connverse#steven universe future#steven universe fanfiction#steven and connie#older steven#older connie#connverse fanfic#face meme#grand jewel#femme fatale au#angst
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After MONTHS, I was finally hit by something that made me completely piece together Rozália's story of what she is and why and I'm HYPER. Aka: here it comes the usual tragedy
Origins:
Attila Véghváry was a descendant of warriors whom protected Hungary throughout the Ottoman period of history, to be able to live up to his ancestors he joined to serve the Vatican as a Hunter. He had fallen in love with a half Italian, half Hungarian woman named Liliána, charmed by her ethereal beauty and kindness. His desire to have children, to continue his name bathed in blood was grand, after wedding they tried, struggled with the task; without success. Liliána was terrified upon her husband's devastation, fearing he will throw her away, back into the clutches of her father and that was a fate she desperately wanted to avoid. So she prayed, begged for a miracle, yet still nothing happened. In her despair and distress, she turned to a darker force; she had made a deal with the devil: she will be able to successfully bear a child, but the child will serve hell after his or her death.
Rozália was born in 1823 and Liliána was gnawed by guilt from her first cry for air; yet she found herself unable to tell anyone in fear of harm. Even though she couldn't give him a boy, Attila was thrilled to have her and began teaching, treating her as a son as soon as possible. He was a harsh teacher with little to no reward to pay off the hard work and Rozália soon learned she has to fight for her father's love and praise.
The Hunter:
It was no question that she will join her father in the quest of banishing evil, Attila couldn't bear to give his only offspring in the hands of Nuns. To everyone's greatest surprise, the young girl proved to be more capable than most of the men, including her own father: fast, fearless, fatal, brutal yet still a tactician. Despite the available arsenal of weapons she favored hussar swords above everything (+ a few must have religious symbols) with her unique twist: she wielded twin blades, instead of the traditional one, earning the title of Doom Duelist.
Rozália only saw the creatures as obstacles between her father's love and well deserved recognition. She never really believed the preachings, she hasn't came to do God's work but to seek her own glory, to carve her own path.
When she could visit her mother, Liliána started to worry upon listening Attila's tales of how efficient their daughter was, instead she saw it as a sign that the devil already begun his work with her violent personality. As a solution when she was home, she turned her attention towards arts and found out her thirst, passion and talent for dancing. Liliána had given her all the love she could in hope it would provide a tiny compensation for Attila's harsh ways. She didn't condemn nor stood in way of her hunt for the so called satanic creatures in hope of that will somehow lessen or even lift the curse she had bestowed on her before she was born.
The General:
The 1848 revolutionary war swept through the country like a wildfire, both father and daughter felt their obligation to protect their country, just like their ancestors did. Her talents shone brilliantly on the battlefields and despite being a woman, she climbed ranks in lightning speed. Eventually, Attila had fallen in a battle and the title General was given to her along with a legion of hussars, the Főnix Légió (Phoenix Legion). Her horse, Vihar (Thunder) was a wild, aggressive mare from the Herd Lipica, since they couldn't get her to accept any of the stallions, they wanted to get rid of the nuisance but Rozália has had other plans.
They understood each other from the very beginning, they moved together as one. Vihar was as quick and strong as if she was a stallion along with her rider. The name General Véghváry was associated with bravery, power and true Hungarian virtue. She often utilized the tactics of ancient battles like barrage of arrows when they were 'fleeing', used the environment to her advantage, quick, devastating strikes usually at the enemy flanks then disappearing into the thin air. She knew her army well, keeping many personal relations since most of the soldiers were almost still children. Strangely, no one ever questioned her command and the legion moved, fought as one.
Birth of the Demon:
The greatest heroes are designated to fall. Her mistake was that she believed fighting for their country, defending it from the Habsburg's rule unified everyone and didn't take betrayal into consideration. The legion was crossing the mountains of Vértes, advancing into uncertain territory when the ambush happened. Rozália knew they are all going to perish, they were in a valley, no space to utilize the hussar tactic, so she set Vihar free and issued one last command: die as heroes. So they fought like caged wild animals but the Habsburg army had the numerical superiority along with the element of surprise. Rozália watched her men, her friends slaughtered, executed the remaining survivors. Even at the door of death, bleeding from numerous wounds she stood defiant and unmoving, refusing to beg or kneel in front of the enemy general. Swords pierced her body, more than she can or want to remember, pinned standing like a grotesque sculpture of glory. Life left her body and sealed the deal. The ground cracked beneath her body, the flames of Hell itself soaring into the woman, resurrecting and possessing her at the same time. The first gasp for breath was ragged, she was confused, furious and lost. So she did what most children would do, immediately returned to her mother's house, only to find her dead with unmistakable evidence of her falling victim to a vampire. Unbeknownst to her, Liliána had written a diary she kept locked away, detailing why she accepted such offer, her sincere apologies and asking for forgiveness for bringing a cursed child to life.
Szerte nézett s nem lelé Honját a hazában*:
Even though she had no idea what she had became, Rozália knew she can't return to the Holy Order, but she no longer fit among humans and due to her Hunter past she wasn't welcome among other creatures. She lost her identity, the war, her home and her beloved mother. She did what she could: survive. Learn what she is and trying to control it. She soon realized her human face is only a mask, when the pendant is separated from her, her appearance shifts: skin cracks until it looks like ash, her veins are glowing orange in contrast, clawed hands, feet, wide jaw filled with razor fangs, crimson eyes with slit pupils and ink black wings curling from her back, almost impossible to tell when the flames morph into feathers.
Rozália is restlessly searching for her mother's killer while trying to figure out what and who is she, struggling to decide between warrior, demon or dancer.
After finishing off all the Habsburg officials (except for the general whom was nowhere to be found even though she tore through the whole country in her fury), she turned her special attention towards vampires in hope of finding her mom's killer. These encounters often ended with death even though the said creature wasn't the cause of her loss. Soon she learned the Holy Order wants to eradicate her from existence, without regard for her outstanding service; she understood she is truly torn between two words and she could never belong to any of them.
Rozália took part in both World Wars, the Korean war, the Vietnam War, numerous crisises throughout Africa and Middle East; to keep herself occupied, to not let the memories of the war pass even though she suffers from minor PTSD from it. When not occupied with bloodshed, she restlessly learned new styles of martial arts and dance styles, throughout the century she has lived many lives in many places: cage fighter, dancer, racer, pole dancer, acrobat, fitness model; anywhere she can get her rush of adrenaline and spotlight. Rozy can't nor want to slow down, she blazes to the utmost, running from melancholy and loneliness.
To save herself from the heartbreak, the must have 'why do you still look 25 even though we've been together for 10 years' talk, and the danger of being hunted by everyone, Rozy doesn't really date. If she feels a mutual spark between her and an another, she is totally down for a one night stand then disappear, leaving only the traces of overwhelming heat and pleasant memories behind.
Power & curse of the Hellfire:
Rozália needs to consume souls to survive. If she refuses, can't find someone unworthy of life, her 'gift' starts to turn against her. The pendant unable to keep up the false facade of a human, the insatiable demon clawing through the surface and ultimately, the Hellfire would consume her, resulting in a second death which would be hell of a record to beat but Rozy is not interested in that.
With the pendant on, the signs of what is she truly are subtle: Her teeth a little too sharp, dagger like stiletto nails as if she just had a manicure, her body heat feverish, candles leaning towards her or burning more eagerly in her presence. The most notable traits her almost overwhelming, smoldering aura and behind her emerald eyes occasionally a glimpse of Hell itself flash, brief enough to make humans believe their mind is only playing tricks.
She has fire under her control, high temperature cause no harm; her cursed flames able to burn through everything and destroy anything in their path including supernatural creatures for whom normal fire isn't fatal. Being destruction itself makes her unable to bear children, not like she would've wanted in the first place.
If she has the mortal remains, she can raise that being back into life for a few hours as an infernal creature, and at full power she can open a portal directly to Hell and reap all the souls nearby though she isn't aware of this ability yet watch her raise her dead army in heartbeat if needed. Both of these actions leave her drained for weeks, unable even to transform so she will only use these as last resort.
@count-v-dracula you might like this :D
@thxwxlf ...you said I am allowed to throw stuff at you😅
#👹 blazing through history au🔥| heavenborn; hellraised#with this done she is 'officially' separated from Cindy and should have her own blog :`)#* Looking everywhere she could not find home in her homeland; line from the Hungarian hymn because I find this incredibly fitting#🔥headcanons🔥 | secrets of the fire#might update with the powers & their explainations#spoiler: she can raise her army from the dead as infernal soldiers for a few hours#this actually collides with heavenborn because sure af heaven had nothing to do with that; but I love the tag too much to change
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I'm the anon who wrote about the reality-AU ask.
And I have a different view from what you wrote, because for me there where 2 major things:
1. Reader wasn't a strong woman
2. Harry was definitely an arrogant, selfish prick to reader.
I will start with 1.
So, what moral and values? I honestly don't understand that part because for me moral and values mean one thing and I don't see they fitting the situation.
Regardless, MC wasn't a strong woman for several reasons.
She allowed her pain get in the way of her child's life several times, she literally got with the first guy that showed her love when she wasn't ready nor emotionally stable, if we take in mind that she met him at halfway through her pregnancy and in 2 years ish she was already living with him and allowing her child to call him "dad". So she clinged to Connor as a substitute and staple to the family she had planned having with Harry, just like Harry clinged to Camille's offer as a way to have what he dreamed having with Y/N. None of them put their child's best interest first, otherwise she would have found a way to deal with her pain while allowing him to be part of Halo's life and he would have found a way to accept that he would never have what he wanted bc of his mistakes in the past.
And the clearest sign of that is her conversation with Harry in the last chapter. She did love Connor, but he was only there because Harry blocked her. If he hadn't, he'd have seen the text and be involved in his kids life. So, I know you said something about being emotionally available as a parent and that's my argument for that. Harry wasn't emotionally a dad bc that chance was taken from him out of spitefulness and he still tried to be there, he made a mistake but he never gave up. He was robbed of it countless times bc MC was never healed properly to let go of her personal feelings and focus on Halo, bc I can guarantee you that if given the chance, Halo would forget it and choose to have a relationship with Harry.
Which brings me to my previous point... He wasn't Halos dad, MC made him her dad because she didn't want to deal with Harry when she knew that he had a right to at least be informed about the baby, regardless of her relationship with him. In the story you make it known that he blocked her and that's how she couldn't tell him, but she kept in touch with his family + he contacted her at some point. So, she uses her own actions against him and he let's her out of guilty, showing a bit of manipulation from her side. Both of them were toxic and manipulative. Just bc you were hurt, doesn't give you a right to act as you please, speacially when a child is involved. That shouldn't even be put to argument and I'd have agreed with you more if you hadn't tried to classify MC as a victim at all costs, even when she was the wrong one.
If this was real life, a girl behaving like her would be concerning, so why in a fanfic she's considered strong? Because she standed up for herself and for her daughter? I mean, did she truly stand up for her child? Can we truly say that? Or did she allow her own barriers and insecurities surround them and keep Harry distant? Wouldn't a healed and strong woman be capable of dealing with her ex for their's daughter sake, speacially when she's in a happy and healthy relationship?
Parents are allowed mistakes. None of them know what they're doing and the greatest majority of the world is filled with people who weren't mature enough to be parents, yet somehow were allowed to.
She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry for all the pain he caused her.
He left her, so she didn't tell him about their baby, then when he found out she monopolised his entire relationship with his daughter and did some pretty illegal stuff, and when he committed his first mistake with the child she cut him off completely without taking in account what her daughter wanted.
Have you watched the show The Duchess on Netflix? I think its a great example of my point here, in case you don't understand it.
Also, forgot to say that she was toxic again when she kept threatening him over wanting to be with his kid. Like, we spend tons of times telling people to be responsible with their art, as it can be a door into introducing kids to things. We also spend a ton of time telling boys that they should care about their babies and be there for them. Then you come and write a fic where the guy gets threatened and manipulated when trying to be with his 🤷🏻♀️
MC definitely had her right to commit her own mistakes, as I said, parents will do it countless times. But I think that's a bit unfair that she gets as many as she wants bc she got hurt previous to baby being born, yet Harry barely gets one when trying to figure himself out after finding out about his kid. You mentioned that a judge would never give Harry any custody bc of what he did and that was a bit dumb, sorry. Law is based on justice, balance and protecting the victim with fairness and justice, therefore Harry would have been granted at least the benefit of the doubt as his mistakes were minor and the victim in this story is Halo, not MC✌🏽
This is a long one.
Morals and values are not fitting in the situation.
Morals are personal beliefs that a person upholds and values are something that are regarded as important. I think that everybody uses them in most of the things they do so they definitely fit the situation.
She literally got with the first guy that showed her love...
I wouldn’t say that MC clung unto Connor and got into a relationship with him right away. The first couple of instances—they were just friends and weren’t officially together until Reign.
None of them put their child’s best interest first // Reader wasn’t a strong woman
I agree that both parties didn’t act on the best interest of their child but that doesn’t necessarily mean that MC wasn’t a strong woman. Sure, she wasn’t ideal in the context of being a mother—but she mended herself enough to give Harry a chance when he found out, even setting up limits while she was at it.
Wouldn’t you think that that takes courage? Besides the preceding fact that it is courteous to tell someone that you’re having their baby (no argument there), especially to someone who has cheated and betrayed your trust, you are sweeping the pain away. MC was letting Harry back in even if she personally didn’t want to. Harry was a huge part of her life so I think reminiscing on their relationship would never cease; they have a kid together. All the good and bad of their time together will always be present in her mind.
Harry was robbed [of being a dad]
You think that Harry was robbed of being a Dad, I can’t convince you otherwise. You said it yourself though, ‘if Harry hadn’t blocked MC, he would’ve seen the text and he would’ve been a dad to Halo’.
But he did—and the following points of your argument are, in a sense, irrelevant because what you’re pointing out is what could’ve happened if Harry didn’t do what he did. These are the consequences of his actions. “He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,” <- That scene was the turning point of MC’s decision and frankly, a showcase of Harry’s immaturity. MC said she had something to tell him and he retaliated by blocking her.
As well, you mention, ‘if given the chance, Halo would forget about it’—there’s a lot of assumptions in your argument because these aren’t part of the original story. These are what you think should’ve happened.
He blocked her [...] but she kept in touch with his family
MC kept in touch with his family on the pretext that they wouldn't inform harry that the baby was his. This was because of a misunderstanding due to a post on Camille's IG page. H seemed happy with his new relationship. MC didn't NOT tell him out of SPITE—it was because she didn't want to ruin his relationship with Camille.
Harry contacted her at some point // Just because you’re hurt doesn’t give you the right to act as you please
Yes, Harry did contact her—to call her a ‘whore’ and stated that she ‘probably slept around’ during their relationship. [ie. Harry: Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?”] I’m guessing that’s probably not the best way for H to ask about MC’s pregnancy and I can imagine that the sheer rudeness and projection will deter most people.
His dialogues were an attack on her personality (that she was a liar and disloyal), on the validity of her emotions (that she was faking them), and on her identity as woman solely because he was crumbling under the truth that he was the one who messed up. I mentioned before that Harry’s insults were a projection as a result of his defence mechanism. Meaning that he was—to some extent—aware that MC hadn’t cheated but convinced himself otherwise to feel less guilty. Therefore, at the end of Halo, he judged the credibility of their child.
If this was real life...
And this is a fanfiction.
Once again, MC might not have been the ideal representation of a strong woman, but she stepped up when Halo was introduced.
Imagine going through a break-up with your SO of two years while you’re pregnant because he went behind your back FOR A YEAR, amidst hormonal changes, still going to work, and trying to find yourself when someone has taken so much of you—that’s traumatizing. Healing isn’t linear. Just because you’re wounded doesn’t mean that you’re not strong.
She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry
MC was honest but she wasn’t truthful. Her intentions were human nature yet keeping Halo away from Harry wasn’t very truthful of her—in legalities and such.
I don’t think MC monopolized H/H’s relationship. She gave Harry a chance to bond with Halo, and they did. As mentioned, MC had set limits and boundaries when discussing Harry’s presence in their daughters’ life. It was a legally binding, word-of-mouth, agreement that Harry assented to.
[he was] threatened and manipulated
In that sense, Harry’s hostility towards MC in Reign was threatening her decision to have him around [ie. You’re not something I would take the time to handle,” // You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’]
I understand your concern and I apologize for that. I’m not explicitly saying that this one piece of fiction is satirical in the sense that it’s the opposite of what society chants because that would be vile of me to do. Every circumstance is different though—it really is a choice of preference, validation and weighing out the subject matter.
You mentioned that a ‘judge would never give Harry custody’ and that was a bit dumb...
That line was never part of the story.
"Take it up legally if you'd like. Want to have a custody battle? Bring it on. Let's see whose side the judge is on after they find out that you cheated on me while I was pregnant with Halo."
Suggesting that the conclusion can be one of shared-custody wherein MC has more time with Halo (80/20 visitation schedule).
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I don't want to keep going if it's not with you~
So basically I had this idea for a one shot and I thought, why not share it? I don't know if you'll like it but I had fun imagining and writing it so here you go !
Tw self-harm/ suicidal thoughts
>angst with a happy ending
Summary: The Doctor finally come back to Sheffield after escaping the Judoon prison. It has been six hard months for Yaz, will the Doctor be too late to save her favorite companion ?
(angst with a happy ending, cause I'm a sucker for a happy ending)
It had been six months, six months that the Doctor sent them back to earth. Forced to go back for their own safety. Yaz knew that, Graham and Ryan told her enough. She knew the Doctor just wanted to protect them. The boys had understood it and accepted it and if at first it was hard to go back to normal life, after a month or so they seemed to be okay. They were still missing their amazing alien friend of course but they had moved on. Graham had started seeing other friends more often and Ryan started dating Sonya.
The only one who hadn't moved on - who didn't want to - was Yaz. She had tried at first, truly tried. She went out with some friends, got a promotion at work and even tried having a date with someone but it didn't work out. Truth was Yaz was not accepting this situation, she couldn't forget the Doctor and the life she had with her, she couldn't imagine that the Doctor really died that day on Gallifrey. She had constantly this hope of hearing the engines' noise of her favorite spaceship, of seeing a blue box parked in front of her flat. She dreamt countless time of the Doctor coming back and each time waking up was awfully painful. The harsh reality was painful.
As weeks passed she slept less and less at night, not wanting to see the familiar face of the blond in her dreams. She focused on her job to forget how she hated being stuck on earth, not knowing if the Doctor was still out there or not. Her family did see at first that Yaz wasn't well but soon she learnt to hide the bags under her eyes and the trace of a night spent crying silently under her makeup . She began to live in a lie, putting a great amount of effort to hide how broken she was.
One night worst than the others, she cut herself on her right wrist to ease her pain. She hadn't done that since highschool but right here and right now she felt relief in the pain. So she did it again and again, taking care to hide it well too. Yaz knew she couldn't keep up like that, she needed help but who could understand her ? They would force her to stop if they found out. Yaz didn't want to stop, this was the only thing helping her to cope.
Graham was in his room when he heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS in his living room. It had been so long that he first thought that he dreamt it but when he saw the blond coming out of the blue box he realised all this was real. The Doctor was there, smiling shyly at him. She looked skinnier than the last time he'd seen her, her hair had grown too. She seemed fine though a bit tired.
'Hey' said the woman timidly
For only response she received a hug from the old man.
'I thought we'd never see ya again doc !'
She froze for a moment she'd forgot what it was to feel someone against you. It was soothing, reassuring.
'Are you okay ?? What happened !'
'Long story but I'm fine had a little nap of 2 or 3 days in the TARDIS and a good meal.' her smile grew wider as she felt more comfortable. 'Where are the others ? How much time as it been ? I hope they are okay, how is Yaz ?'
Graham smiled at all those questions, he'd really missed this crazy woman.
'Six months only' he said but could see the worries on the Doctor's face. 'Ryan is fine, Yaz is... Coping in her own way, I haven't heard a lot from her recently'
The Doctor could remember like it was yesterday the girl's face when she left her. It had broken her hearts but she had to leave, she had to save her fam even if that meant dying for it.
The sound of a door opening interrupted the duo.
'Grandad we have to go, Sonya just-' he stopped abruptly when he saw the Doctor. 'Oh my god, no way !'
'Hi Ryan' said the Doctor amused by Ryan's surprise. The boy instantly gave the woman a big hug just as did Graham a few minutes before.
'I'm so happy your alive doctor !'
'Glad to see you too.' she answer truly happy. 'Yaz isn't with ya ? I missed her, I'd love to see her'
Ryan's smile disappeared as he suddenly remembered why he was here.
'Sonya just called me, Yaz is in the hospital...'
'What ? What happened son ?!'
'Apparently she collapsed while on duty and was very pale so they decided to call an ambulance.'
A few minutes later all three of them where in the hall of the hospital. Nadja was there too, she'd just finished her conversation with a doctor.
'Nadja !' called Graham.
The woman turn to them and was very surprised to discover the Doctor by the boys' side. She wanted to ask her where she was during all those months but right now she was more preoccupied by what she had learnt from her daughter's doctor.
'Is she okay ?' asked Ryan.
'They said she collapsed because she was weak and tired, I knew she wasn't sleeping well but I never imagined it was so serious...'
'She going to be okay...' tried to reassure Graham
'That's not... That's not all. She also has marks on her wrists and thighs. How could I not see them ? He said judging from the cuts that she had been doing that to herself for a few weeks now.'
The Doctor felt a rush of culpability and sadness, Yaz's state was her fault and she knew it. She had hoped the girl would move on from her, build her life but it appeared to be quite the contrary. Yaz's was drowning, what would have happened if she didn't come back ?
'We saw nothing either Nadja but we're gonna help her now, everything will be alright' said Graham.
'Can we see her ?' ask the Doctor, she felt the urge to see the brunette with her own eyes and be with her.
'She's sleeping, the doctor said we can visit her tomorrow.'
The Doctor wanted to insist but knew it was useless, she would have to wait and she hated that. Her brilliant, amazing Yaz in such a poor shape because of her. The blond hated herself for not escaping sooner. Yaz kept her alive and gave her a motivation to get out when she was in the judoon prison, now she needed to save and protect her.
The boys went home for the night, the Doctor parked her TARDIS in a street nearby the hospital ready in the morning to run back and find the girl she had dreamt of for months. It was around 1 am when she received a call from Nadja.
'Doctor I need your help ! It's Yaz, she ran away from the hospital, no one knows where she is !'
The Doctor didn't wait a second, she ran a scan of the area for trace of artron energy. Yes it had been six months since Yaz had travelled in a time machine but she should still have some trace left on her. Indeed she found out that the girl was only a few box away from the TARDIS position. The blond stormed out of her ship and ran as fast as she could.
She finally saw the brunette, she was in the middle of an empty street only wearing her hospital gown. She seemed lost and scared like a little girl, looking frantically around her like something was chasing her.
'Go on kill me you stupid machines !' she yelled.
The Doctor wasn't sure who the girl meant by machines but decide to slowly come closer, hands up to show she wasn't a threat.
'Yaz.' the girl froze
'No... No it can't be... It can't be you !' the brunette wasn't trusting her own eyes. If the Doctor was her it must meant that she was dreaming. The blond took a new step toward her.
'Hey Yaz, it's okay I promise..'
Yaz took a step back.
'No ! You said that the last time, but you disappeared, you left me like you always do ! I wake up and you're not here' she said now sobbing.
This broke the Doctor's hearts.
'Oh Yaz, my beautiful Yasmin Khan, what did I do to you.'
'The Cybermen I heard them, they are coming.'
'What do you mean ? Is that why you ran from the hospital ?' the Doctor asked taking her sonic to scan the area. No trace of any alien species. No Cybermen. 'Yaz it's okay, what you heard must of been some machines in other rooms next to yours. You're safe I swear.'
'How are you really here... You're DEAD ! You're-You're...' she cried harder falling on knees. She was exhausted, body trembling in this cold night.
The blond came closer and fell next to Yaz and she noticed the bandages around the girl's wrists. She was so angry at herself for letting that happen. She pulled Yaz in a tight hug.
'I'm so sorry Yaz, so sorry. I'm real I promise. I'll be here tomorrow when you'll wake up, I want to be by your side and never leave you again.'
This felt real thought Yaz, she wanted to believe this was real. Tomorrow she'd be sad again but for now she just enjoyed the warm embrace.
The Doctor took out her coat and put it on Yaz shoulders, she also noticed the girl was barefoot and decided to scoop her in her arms.
'It's okay now...' whispered the Doctor.
'I miss you so much... I love you Doctor.' the brunette whispered back before falling unconscious.
Yaz woke up the next morning in her hospital room. The first thing she felt was sadness as she opened her eyes to see the bedside empty. That's why she didn't like to sleep but before her thoughts could go farther she heard a familiar voice.
'Hey you...'
The brunette turn her head and saw the Doctor.
'So it was real...' she said softly, genuinely smiling for the first time in months.
'Pretty much yeah...'
'You've come back, you're here.' the girl stroke the Doctor cheek gently like to make sure the woman wasn't an illusion.
'I'm here Yaz and I love you too.' said the Doctor gently but serious.
Yaz's smile grew wider and she did what she didn't that day in the TARDIS just before the blond left her and the other humans. Yaz leaned forward and kissed the Doctor.
They didn't hear Graham, Nadja and Ryan enter the room.
'Seems like things should alright for those two now' said Graham glad and relieved.
The End
#doctor who#thirteenth doctor#13th doctor#doctor who series 12#thasmin#yasmin khan#post timeless child#dw s12 spoilers#angst with a happy ending#cause i like happy endings#13 x yaz#13 x yasmin
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