#girl help ive romanticized being alive

[bloodybellycomb]

After a long summer heat, one random day you'll step outside and feel a cool autumn breeze and you'll smell the dewy wet grass and you'll listen to the leaves rustling in the wind and you'll think to yourself "oh, this is a good moment to be alive."

[ahopefulbromantic]

Please please please tell me more about Dziady

Okay this took me waaay to long and it will be several far-too-verbose posts (i'm really sorry but that's what you get for asking about my special interest lol). So anyway fasten your seatbelts, my man, cause you're in for a ride, you'll love this one!

1. Cultural/Historical/Political Context

Dziady, or Forefather's Eve, is an ancient (?) Slavic ritual held on October 31st. It was originally Pagan and had to do with summoning with the dead. Since Poland is a Christian country (I'll die on this hill), the very beginning of its existence being its baptism, after Poles became Christians, the Pagan rituals naturally got ✨Christified✨. Dziady, then, as All Hallow's Eve, became about helping souls in purgatory reach Heaven. Seems all fine and good, right? The only problem was, it still was spiritual seances and magic basically, and it wasn't held by a Christian priest but instead by a Guślarz (for some reason translated as "Wizard" in English versions??? lol), who was kinda like a Slavic shaman.

Now for the history, in XVIII and XIX century Poland was partitioned by Russia, Prussia (Germany) and Austria. It meant that formally it didn't exist as a country, it was erased from the maps - but as a nation it continued to live in the hearts of its people for over a hundred years before we regained our independence after WWI. The four part Dziady play was written in XIX century, Polish Romanticism, a time of bards, prophets, dreamers, and revolutionists, and in itself it was an act of defiance to the occupants.

2. Summary (yes the order is weird, no one knows why)

Dziady II

People of the town hold a Dziady ritual. A few spirits come and state their needs - two children who never experienced anything difficult in life get a bitter mustard seed, an evil lord who made poor people die of hunger and now is torn apart by them in the form of wild birds doesn't get anything as he's beyond help for now, and a girl who selfishly rejected every boy who loved her and never made any meaningful human connection (i'm giving the author the benefit of doubt here) gets a reassurance that after two years she will reach Heaven. With Dziady nearly finished, suddenly there comes a weird, spooky spirit who doesn't act like he's supposed to, doesn't obey commands, and follows one of the girls...

Dziady IV

In this one we find out the spirit's name is Gustaw, he's a young poet from the town in unrequited love with the girl he followed, Maryna. Due to being so dead inside and to a suicide attempt (it's a little unclear how it ended?) he's in between being dead and alive and thus can attend Dziady as a spirit. He visits a priest who used to teach him when he was a child to wallow in his woes and whine that all women are evil (he's cringe in this one but we still love him) and to ask the priest not to fight the Dziady tradition. The Church condemned it as a Pagan ritual but Gustaw insists it's one of the things that keep Polish nation together during the occupation.

Dziady I

Another Dziady ritual is held but this time it's Gustaw's turn to be visited and followed by a spirit of a mysterious, spooky girl. Unfortunately, this work was never finished so we don't know who the girl is, what happens next, or even when it all falls in Dziady timeline :(

Dziady III. Poema

Okay this is the longest one and the only one i've seen translated to English so i'll try to be brief and also focus on Gustaw's arc. We have a timeskip, Gustaw is in prison because Russians hate Polish people and want them all dead, gone, and unable to make an(other) uprising. It's in here that Gustaw transforms into Konrad - a new name, a new identity, a whole new self. He talks with his cellmates, they're buddies, they tell each other stories, news from the town, they sing songs. Konrad is hit with ✨bardic inspiration✨, he sings about becoming a vampire and taking revenge, then goes into the (Little) Improvisation about becoming an eagle and battling a black raven - he's in a prophetic trance but faints before he can finish his vision. He's left alone. When he comes around, oh hohoho, he goes into the Great Improvisation!!! It's Hamlet's Soliloquy for Poles, maybe even more than that. In it he achieves the heights of his poetic power, feeling, and love, so he metaphysically flies before the throne of God to plead for his people. He wants to rule over souls like God does to make the world a better place. Not receiving an answer, he starts blaspheming out of desperation. He faints just before speaking the worst offence and is then possessed by the devil and exorcized by the prison priest, Fr. Piotr, a bernardine monk. The demon tells the priest about another prisoner who is heavily tempted and needs his help, Jan Rollison. It's also revealed that it was Mother Mary who saved Konrad from offending God because he'd defended Her in an earlier scene ❤️ Then we have three other visions: a little patriot girl gets a sweet and cutesy one about flowers (it's got a beautiful line about St. John), Fr. Piotr gets a prophetic one in which he sees Poland crucified as the Christ of Nations that will resurrect eventually and by its suffering bless all other nations, along with a hero through which it will come - the mysterious Fourty-and-Four, and lastly the Russian Senator gets a haunting nightmare from demons about his falling out of grace with the Tsar. Then there's the Warsaw Salon and the Ball at Senator's, scenes filled with conversations about politics and revolutions, more stories, and a lot of Russians' hypocrisy. We find out Janek Rollison is tortured and was nearly killed by his tormentors who claimed his defenestration was a suicide attempt. His mother comes with Fr. Piotr to plead for him, but the Senator is cruel and unyielding, even the priest's warnings of divine punishment don't sway him. During the ball one of Senator's evil subordinates/"friends" dies, struck by lightning attracted by silver Russian coins (a Judas reference). Senator is prophecised to die, too. Just then Konrad is lead by two soldiers to be banished, his worst fear becoming reality. Though he doesn't remember Fr. Piotr, his heart recognizes him and so he bids him farewell and gives him a ring to sell and give money for the poor. In exchange he receives a prophecy. The last scene is another Dziady ritual, in which we see spirits of Senator and his subordinate, punished by God. Maryna tries to find Gustaw's spirit again but cannot summon him by his old name. At last she sees him in a wagon, his chest riddled with deep, piercing wounds, with a tiny wound on his forehead.

Epilogue to Part III

Now i don't know this one as well as the others, it's also more of a narrative poem than of a play, but from what i remember it follows a mysterious Pilgrim character on his adventures in foreign lands. To my (and my Polish teacher's hehe) interpretation the pilgrim is Konrad who lost his name and identity after his banishment and now roams the world as a mere no-name pilgrim, unable to create poetry in his language no one understands 💔

3. An English version for you to enjoy!

It's only part III and it's not perfect but i really encourage all of you reading this to give it a go!

[kermitgasm]

This Is Why review but it’s the unhinged shit i said in my notes app

under the cut ofc cuz i don’t wanna spoil it for anyone but pls know this is unhinged and like a train of thought rather than anything that makes sense

running out of time: only 5 seconds in and so fucking true like…. fr… also this is so funny. maybe i am just a selfish prick actually…. has some sort of r&b feel? THERE WAS A FIRE!! METAPHORICALLY! BE THERE IN FIVE! HYPERBOLICALLY! OK GUITAR!!!

Big Man, Little Dignity: not to be a david bowie fan but the intro reminds me of moss garden. this is very wavey. oh shit she’s coming for HIIIIM…. no offense but you got no integrity…. READ HIM!! SMOOTH OPERATOR IN A SHIT STAINED SUIT…. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GODDDDD. the outro is beautiful, FLUTE TIME!!!!! A BITCH LOVES A FLUTE!

You First: RATTLING THE BARS OF MY FUCKING CAGE THIS IS ALL IVE EVER WANTED YOURE JUST LIKE THE STRAY ANIMAL I KEEP FEEDING SCRAPS ???? HELP???? KARMAS GONNA COME FOR ALL OF US AND I JUST HOPE SHE COMES FOR YOU FIRST!!! BITCH WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS EVERYTHING OH MY GODDDDDD TURNS OUT IM LIVING IN A HORROR FILM WHERE IM BOTH THE KILLER AND THE FINAL GIRL SO WHO ARE YOU??? hayley williams do you want to choke me out it’s so fine if you want to do that. THEEE GUITAR THE DRUMS ORGASMIC…

Figure 8: taylor york is the heart of paramore i will say it over and over again. pearls before swine all flowers die tapped the last good vein don’t know how to shut it off! THIS SONG HOLD THE FUCK UP!!!!! JESUS CHRIST…. OK burning at both ends tonight HOW COULD I HOW COULD I IF IM MADE OF THIN ICE… YOUD BE WISE IF YOU THOUGHT TWICE… ALL FOR YOUR SAKE BECAME THE VERY THING THAT I HATE!!! god damn god damn god damn…. GOD DAMN ok i’m fine now i’m normal

Liar: i don’t even have the words… this is so heartbreaking and beautiful. please god “oh my love i lied to you but i never needed to / oh love i lied to you but you always knew the truth” tears in my eyes i’m gonna punch a hole in the wall. and why should i deny what’s all at once crystal clear 😭😭😭😭 I CANNOT… oh my god the lyrics… man i can’t even type them in too busy holding my head in my hands (metaphorically)

Crave: intro is so beautiful, i know i keep saying this but taylor (and zac) really are just so incredible. “i can’t wait to memorize this day a picture cannot contain the way it feels” oh no i already feel myself crying… “just for a second it all felt simple, i’m already missing it” hayley’s vulnerability always makes me cry… WOW THIS PART… i romanticize even the worst of times when all it took to make me cry was being alive…. look up and see the reflection to someone who never gave way to the pain well what if i told them now that i’m older there isn’t a thing i wouldn’t change…. yeah let’s think about that (not for too long). i will not be able to sleep after this. this album is all i’m gonna think about.

thick skull: OK!!!!! wow the lyrics in this really are making me insane. i will be thinking about this intro later… hit over my head epiphany hit over my head repeatedly …. UMMMM HELLO ONLY I KNOW WHERE ALL THE BODIES ARE BURIED THOUGHT BY NOW I’D FIND THEM JUST A LITTLE BIT SCARY…. what’s the body count up to now captain??? this song is so fucking good… let it be KNOWN OH THE GUITAR PICKING UP??? DOES TAYLOR YORK KNOW HE IS THE ONLY MAN EVER…. COME ON OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP??? OK PATRICK BATEMAN GIRLIE

this album is a 10/10 to me and paramore are one of the best bands ever.

[dollywony]

Hi gorgeous!! I was wondering if you could do a yandere miles x f! Reader if you’re comfortable but it’s fine if you’re not!! 💞💞 also could I be 🩰 anon if you take anons??

so pretty - m.f

pairing(s): miles x reader & reader x s/o

summary: being chased around by a man who just killed your friend doesn’t sound like how you wanted to end your evening.

a/n: hi ml!! ive never written anything about yanderes so take this as you please 🫶 + ofc you can be 🩰 anon <3 + i do not mean to romanticize this in anyway, it is purely fiction!

warnings: yandere themes, cursing, mentions of murder

wc: 1.6k+

You pant, frantically running away from the man who’s holding a knife you can’t help but think it’s been a hectic fucking month. First your best friend is shot right in front of your eyes, next the same fucker who shot your friend is chasing you with a dangerously sharp knife.

Fuck who even was this dude? What did he want from you? You spun around, picked up a nearby rock and flung it at him. Not even sparing him a glance you ran. You ran until you felt as if your lungs were going to fail you.

As you tried to catch your breath, you dashed behind an enormous tree. You didn’t want to die, you barely lived your life. And what about your boyfriend? You loved him too much. Fuck what if you didn’t make it out alive? How would he react?

You heard leaves crunching under the thick boots this murderer had on. He was near. Your palms were clammy. Were you going to die tonight? Was this it?, You thought, eyes watering up at the thought. As you closed your eyes and tried to call yourself down with breathing methods everything went silent.

“Did he leave? God I hope he did.” You muttered underneath your breath, so quietly you barely heard it yourself. However this wasn’t the same for him.

He had gone quiet, hoping you would come out. And indeed you did. He heard your silly little prayers. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. His Y/n was always too gullible. You reminded him of a puppet. No, scratch that, a doll. An unused doll, a porcelain doll that was fragile and needed someone to help her. And that person was him. Only he could help you.

He had gone quiet, hoping you would come out. And indeed you did. He heard your silly little prayers. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. His Y/n was always too gullible. You reminded him of a puppet. No, scratch that, a doll. An unused doll, a porcelain doll that was fragile and needed someone to help her. And that person was him. Only he could help you.

You heard him chuckle. You thought it sounded familiar but shrugged it off, blaming it on your nerves. He was still here. Shit, did he hear you? When you were lost in your thoughts, the man charged at you.

Your eyes shot up, alarmed only to be knocked down by the man who had tackled you to refrain you from moving. You screams weren’t heard as he had slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Shut that fucking mouth up before I shove a knife down it.” The man’s voice came out, rough. Your screams had gone instantly silent hearing those words come out of his mouth.

“Good girl.” he complimented, knife in hand to know that his threat wasn’t empty. You told yourself over and over in your head that this wasn’t real, this was all a nightmare. A nightmare that felt too realistic. Oh for goodness sake, who were you trying to fool? You knew that this could either be the end of your life or a start of a very twisted one.

As the masked man starts to slowly pull something out his bag, he tuts, “Y/n.. you know staring at someone is bad.” It was as if he was scolding a child.

“How do you know my name?” Your voice came out, small. Fuck. You were terrified. First this man fucking kills your bestfriend, then he tackles me, and he knows my name?

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, alright?” He hummed, revealing ropes of thick long rope that had spilled out of his bag. Just what was he planning on doing?

“Can I at least get a name?” You whimpered out, back aching from the position you were in. “Oh Y/n you already know me! You don’t recognize me?” He exclaims, imitating a sniffle.

“Well if you don’t, wouldn’t you like to know?,” he uttered out. “You were always too nosy for your good. Never liked that about you really.” Snorts of amusement coming from under the mask.

Your eyes went down immediately, filled with embarrassment with his comments. His hand jerked to grab your chin rather roughly, forcing eye contact. Well, that’s what you assumed he saw. You felt his smirk through the mask. Fucker.

“Don’t be shy Y/n! It’s alright no one’s around to hear anything.” You could practically hear the glee in his voice. As it was obvious that you weren’t going to attempt to talk to him, he sighed.

He got up off of you, you were relieved yet confused why he did so. But just as those thoughts were let loose. You felt the thick rope circling you continuously. Shit. You were done for.

When he was content with his work, he took a step back and broke out into a fit of giggles. It was so amusing to him, seeing her all scared and teary eyed. He had gotten something he finally wanted. He craved her. He craved seeing those tears dripping down her oh so beautiful face, pleading him to stop.

“Fine,” he huffed out, tired of your silence. “If you want to know who I am so badly, I’ll let you see for yourself.” The rage in ripping off the detailed mask was no shock compared to who lied behind it.

Fucking Miles. The boy you rejected in junior year. He was cool about it, saying it was alright. That was before he had stormed off into the boys bathroom, returning with blood stained hands, ignoring people’s stares.

Suspiciously, you had no choice but to cross him off the list as a suspect to whoever was sending you those creepy letters as he stopped pursuing you. Guess you were wrong.

Those creepy letters holding creepy messages. “I love you so much Y/n, you know your strawberry shampoo really makes you smell nice.” and “I know you’re afraid of the dark Y/n, don’t worry I’ll be around to help you my darling.” were just a few of many horrendous letters.

“Miles?” You said, baffled seeing him. “That’s right darling.” He said, tossing the mask god knows where. “You know Y/n, I thought you would’ve gotten the clue. I always get what I want,” He spoke, grasping you by the collar of your shirt. “And I want you Y/n. I love you so so much. I’ll love you until the day I die. If you die, I’ll die as well.”

“M-Miles.. I don’t really know what to say..,” you spluttered out. “My answer is still the same Miles I’m so sor-” “Why won’t you love me?” Miles spat out, cutting you off. He started to shake you aggressively. “Just why? Am I that unlovable? Am I unattractive? Is there anything I can fix about myself?” Miles babbled on, letting the grip on your shirt loose.

“Miles- Miles,” you spoke up, attracting his attention. “Miles. You know why I don’t love you? It’s because-” you suddenly gasped as he placed the tip of the knife onto your chin, as if it was edging you to go on.

“Hmm?,” Miles edged on. “Go on darling, tell me.” He finished off, pressing the knife down knowing if he went any deeper he’d leave a cut.

You went silent. You knew if you said anything you’d probably end up dead, for this was Miles last straw. If you blew it, god knows what would happen.

“That’s right pretty, I know you didn’t have anything against me. Empty words hurt you know Y/n? I know you didn’t mean it but still.” Miles said, holding a look that mocked sadness.

“C'mon love speak to me. I’m not that mean.,” Miles pouted, slowly bringing the knife down to his side. “You know this is because I love you so so much.” Miles babbled, caressing your hair.

“Miles, if you let me go, I won't tell anyone. I promise.” You whispered, slowly pulling your head up. “Please Miles, please please.” You muttered over and over like a mantra. You were desperate and wanted to escape. Fuck you would even keep your word. You wouldn’t tell anyone if you would live.

“No, no, no you’re lying.” he mumbled under his breath. “Stop lying to me!” Miles shouted at your face, spit splattering onto your face. Fuck thats nasty.

“Miles i swear to fucking god please i wont ever..” you trailed off, stopping mid sentence as Miles turned his attention to his bag. He was digging in his bag, tossing things that weren't his desired object. Curses and pleads continuously split from him.

For a moment he stopped. He stopped and turned around with the biggest smirk on his face holding a rag. A wet rag in fact. What the fuck was that dosed in?, You thought. Was this really going to be your last moment? Spent in the woods with Miles fucking Fairchild.

You stared at him as he approached with his long limbs, stomping against the dirt filled ground. Once he bent down to you, he didn’t hesitate on muffling you with the rag. You screamed and screamed but you were helpless. Your cries weren’t heard by anyone other than Miles. In fact, he looked as if he enjoyed it. Sick fucker.

Your lids felt heavy. Shit. as Miles felt content at what he was looking at, he lifted the rag, throwing it god knows where. “Fuck you Miles.” you spit at him with all the power you had in your body before you felt your consciousness slipping from you. Gazing above you, you saw Miles grasping your hands with such fragility, as if you were going to break any second. “Miles you’ll regret this so much..” you stuttered off, chloroform kicking in letting the chances of you staying away strand you.

“So, so pretty.” Miles lavished, admirably gazing your body out cold. He heaved your body off the cold ground, carrying you as if you were a baby. ``Let's go home now, hmm?” Miles questioned your unconscious body knowing he wouldn’t get a response. It made him feel joyful. You were finally his. And you were only his. Forever.

[bipirate]

Still fuming about how much LWJ's characterization was hurt by the "kicking WN" scene. Jealousy towards random inn staff and a very young girl is bad enough, but LWJ not only knows at that moment that WN is the only miraculously surviving blood relation of LSZ (the single one from a whole clan decimated 13y ago!) but also that WN is WWX's only friend, the only one who stuck by WWX against all odds unlike LWJ, though WN had probably less of a choice about it, which both are reasons enough 1/4

on their own to hug WN, if anything. Plus WWX is not only presumed straight at that moment in the book, but LWJ also believes that WWX has rejected him before dying, and WN is actually not even human anymore, but an animated corpse whose rooting, decayed organs fall out when he's stabbed--and still LWJ is jealous of him as a potential sex partner for WWX (unless it's even jealousy that WWX has friends)! The clincher is that it happens during one of the drunk scenes which means LWJ is supposed to be acting his real self, unrestrained by rules that were hammered into him during his upbringing, so it implies that at his core LWJ is wholly unreasonable and uncompassionate, but forces himself to act like a totally different kind of person in society. And when I can sort of understand why some people might enjoy reading about someone getting angsty about a partner interacting someone they are well matched with, even if those people are not me, but that scene is not it, so I just don't how and who among the readers find this kind of totally maladapted, over the top jealousy attractive? I legit don't get the appeal. Not saying that ironically, but I just don't... understand?

god yeah you hit the nail on the head with this one. ive never been much of a fan of jealousy or possessiveness as a plot point or character trait when it comes to shipping, but god knows there are hundreds of fanfics about that because people think it's hot or whatever. and like, sure, jealousy is a normal human emotion and we all experience it but most of the time lwj is clearly not written to handle that jealousy in a healthy way and his possessive behaviour is romanticized.

and especially with how he treats wen ning, it's just so outrageous. lwj should be grateful to wen ning for being wwx's friend and helping him, he should treat him with respect at the very least, and he should be happy wen ning is miraculously still alive as the only living relative of his adopted son!!! he has no reason to treat wen ning like that and the reason he's written to be that way is because mxtx thinks possessive behaviour is hot or whatever. but also the innkeeper scene bugs me too like this is a random man wwx is talking to and being friendly towards to get a bit of information. it's like lwj doesn't want wwx to look at, talk to, or touch anyone that isn't him. imagine loving a man who literally died after losing all his friends and being shunned by the cultivation world for protecting those friends, and then, after he comes back to life, denying him the chance of making new friends or actively threatening the one friend he has left. it's awful

[heartau]

yuta + vampire au?

hello hello! i’ll be writing this in bullet point form because ive got really bad writers block :( !!

warnings: smut, various mentions of explicit gore, mentions of death and one mention of suicidal tendencies (not romanticizing though bc thats gross!)

work title: flame

being alive for more than a century can take quite it’s toll on you, even more so if you’ve spent the last 300-something years mourning over the death of a partner who carried half of your heart’s soul within them.

the scene has been iterating constantly in nakamoto yuta’s mind ever since the scene had occurred in front of him, in the middle of a battlefield, the year 1784.

the first vampire war, just a few years after he was first turned into one of them; a monster.

it was mortifying to him, the lack of bloodshed that stained the fields juxtaposed the mountain of beheaded bodies that eclipsed disarrayed towers.

tableaus of his lover’s head being sliced from their neck with just the flick of a specific blade, the killer’s face, of whomst housed flames in her eyes laughing as if it were a victory, flash in his mind before he shakes his head to rid of the frightening memories, focused on balancing himself atop the rooftop of his apartment building.

it’s the year 2019 and he lets out a sigh into the cool march air as he watches the cars and people littering streets below him continue on about their evening.

even if he were to jump, he’d only survive - vampires are cursed with immortality, no matter what they were to do to achieve the afterlife, they’ll only wake up alive and their bodies regenerated, as if nothing ever happened to it.

they stay in the same form since the moment they were bit.

“greetings, your highness,” his roommate’s voice causes him to turn towards his direction. “i have acquired some devastating information to bear.”

“stop talking like that, taeyong,” yuta mutters, swinging his legs over the ledge. “it’s 2019, people are gonna think you’re a weirdo.”

when the vampire war of 1784 came to its conclusion, yuta was victor, having savaged the remaining humans after watching his lover’s beheading; thus, he was brought to reign.

and he’s been reigning ever since.

reigning over what, exactly? who knows.

taeyong, his royal messenger (now, technically, one of his roommates), is one of the only vampires that he knows of these days.

“your highness,” taeyong cocks his head to the side. “i’m afraid i do not comprehend what you mean.”

yuta lets out a sigh. “never mind,” he mutters. “what’s the news?”

“i’m sure you are familiar with the blade of bloodlust?” taeyong says, and a jolt of pain goes through yuta at the mention of the weapon that was used to kill his lover. “it’s been stolen.”

“what do you mean?” asks yuta, furrowing his brows.

“it’s been stolen.” taeyong repeats.

“yes, i heard you the first time,” yuta lets out another sigh. “what do you mean it’s been stolen? isn’t it under heavy guard at the historical archives?”

he recalls the two muscular vampires who stood guard at the iron doors that housed the blade - surely no one can get past them both, with their burly arms and tall statures.

“it was, yes,” taeyong lets out a sigh as he pushes up the thin-lensed glasses perched atop his nose. “but upon visiting with doyoung this morning for further inquiries, we had found the bodies of both jung jaehyun and suh johnny. both bodies beared no head.”

yuta stood up from the cement ledge with widened eyes - if his heart were still beating, it would be thumping at a million miles per second at hearing this.

“so what you’re telling me is…” yuta’s voice is shaking.

he had rid of all the humans capable of holding that blade in 1784 by tearing them apart limb to limb and painting the cobblestone streets with their velvet ichor, bent upon mutilating them to the best of his abilities after what they had done to his lover.

there’s no way that a vampire hunter would still exist in the year 2019.

taeyong nods once. “a vampire hunter has been reborn, your highness.”

later that night, after discussing more on the matter with taeyong and doyoung, his royal strategist, he couldn’t bare to keep himself within the walls of his apartment.

the blood bags that he kept in the dodgy refrigerator in the kitchen were all gone, thanks to the recently turned teenager named mark lee, whom doyoung had bitten out of spite after the teen successfully tripped him as a dare by his friends.

“maybe if you calmed down a bit, we wouldn’t be out of our only life source right now, doyoung.” yuta scolds his strategist, who only rolls his eyes in response.

once upon a time, the man used to heed yuta’s word; the title of king was still a blessing those days. nowadays, as they settle into modernized settings, it would be a rare morning to hear the words “king” slip from doyoung’s lips.

“yeah,” mark says from the corner of the run down apartment. “what he said.”

“do you want me to go get some more food or something? i’ll break into a farm if that’s what you want. animal blood is just the same.” doyoung says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“no,” yuta sighs, slamming the door of the refrigerator closed. “i want you and taeyong and mark to stay here. there’s a vampire hunter on the loose and the three of you could survive against one.”

“and what are you gonna do?” doyoung quirks an eyebrow. “kill a random person on the street? what if they’ve got a family to come back to?”

“which is why i’ll find a criminal or something,” yuta mutters. “stop talking to me like that, doyoung. i’m your king, remember that.”

“right,” doyoung says. “king of the last ten vampires roaming the earth.”

yuta rolls his eyes before slamming the door closed, pulling on his suede jacket as he walks down the halls of the apartment complex.

they reside in the dodgy part of the city, so finding a criminal to bring home as food will be an easy task.

yuta walks the cool streets with his hands buried in the pockets of his suede jacket, eyeing every person who passes him by.

a group of giggling women, obviously having just left the bar down the street - harmless. yuta continues to walk.

a man standing on the stairs leading into an apartment complex, holding flowers behind his back, probably picking up his date - also harmless. yuta continues to walk.

a group of highschool boys cackling as they dash down the cemented streets, probably up to no good - a bit questionable, but they were all just highschool boys, so harmless. yuta continues to walk.

yuta continues to walk until he reaches the edge of the town, the rich skyscrapers of the high end districts letting him heave a sigh before pivoting on his heel to go back to his apartment and to let doyoung break into a farm.

but before he’s able to give doyoung the greenlight, he hears whimpering deriving from deep within a dark alley way.

the sound causes him to perk up, effortlessly stealthy when he walks to where he hears the sound.

“please,” he hears a shaking voice. “if you wanna rob me then go for it, just, please, don’t take my necklace.”

he looks around the corner and sees a tall, burly man dressed in all black cornering a sobbing girl, you, holding your purse in front of your body. from the looks of your outfit, you must have also just left from the bar down the street - but as yuta sniffs that air, he smells no alcohol coming from you.

“crying’s not gonna do anything, lady,” the robber gruffs. “give me your fucking necklace or else i’ll take it off your neck after i blast your head off.”

that sentence lets another sob wreak through you as you fall to your knees, clutching your bag tightly. “please, this necklace is special to me.”

“and? i don’t give a shit.” the robbers mutters, digging for something in his back pocket. the lights coming from the entrance of the alleyway reveals the outline of a gun. “i don’t got time for this, bitch making me wa-”

his sentence is cut off by silence, you hear the dull engine of a car passing by just down the alley way. you open your eyes, expecting to look down the barrel of a gun, only to see a different man standing in front of you.

“are you okay?” the voice is gentle and velvet when you hear it, looking up to see a kind face peering down at you. his hand was outstretched, offering to help you up.

“where did he go?” you question him.

“who?” his voice sounds slightly dejected, but still remains kind.

you take his hand hesitantly as he helps you up to your feet, heels wobbly as you find your balance. you rack your mind for words to say, but you can’t seem to find the correct ones for your situation.

“you should get home,” the man gives you a therapeutic smile. “it’s a strange town, it’s unsafe this time of night.”

you stare at him for a few seconds more, truly unable to form words, and you nod tightly. “but wait.” a beat. you search his eyes, they seemed to be glowing with a red flame. “who are you?”

but before the sentence escapes your lips, the man is gone.

that night, you went home with shaking hands and the lingering memory of the man with the burning flame in his eyes.

“taeyong,” yuta asks as he take a swig of his blood-filled cup.

the four of them, yuta, doyoung, taeyong and mark, are seated on the floor of the rundown apartment, feasting on the blood of the criminal that yuta had taken down.

taeyong turns his head towards him, setting his own glass down on the coffee table. “can mates be reborn?”

taeyong cocks his head to the side. “what are you inquiring, your highness?”

“i met a woman tonight,” yuta toys with the edge of his glass cup. “when i looked into her eyes, they held… a familiar fire.”

taeyong grows silent for a second as if he were pondering.

“your highness, there is a first time for everything.”

the next time yuta encounters you, it is during his day job as a barista at a local cafe.

(someone has to pay the bills; taeyong would freak out customers with his medieval speak, doyoung would quit after one squabble with a customer, and mark is still too recently-born to control his bloodlust.)

“hey, you’re the-” “can i take your order, miss?”

your eyes make their way to his nametag: yuta.

“yes, yuta,” you say, sharpening your eyes at him. “i’d like one tall iced caramel macchiato, and i would also like to speak to you when your shift is over.”

when yuta’s shift ends, your cup is already empty, finding solace in the screen of your phone. “you wanted to talk?” yuta asks, pulling up a seat next to you.

you waste no time. “who are you?”

“huh?”

“who are you? how did you know i was in trouble last night? where did that man go? he seemed to disappear into thin air.”

yuta lets out a sigh as he leans onto his elbows on the wooden table in front of you. his eyes are searching into yours, a wry smile taking over his face. for a second, even you felt a little inferior underneath his gaze but you quickly snap back to your usual gait.

“are you going to answer me or are you just gonna smile at me like that?”

“actually,” yuta says. “go on a date with me, and then i’ll tell you what happened.”

you roll your eyes. “and how do i know you’re not planning to do whatever you did with that guy to me?”

a grin stretches on his face. “i’ll take you out someplace where a lot of people are,” he says before putting his hand on top of yours. an electric spark seemed to erupt from your touch which caused his smile to widen. “trust me.”

and he did just that.

you and yuta’s first date took place at an amusement park - at first it started off with you nagging for him to tell you what really happened during the incident but you soon forgot about the entire incident the moment you screamed at the top of your lungs when the rollercoaster dropped. you spent the rest of the date clinging onto him as he dragged you from ride to ride and winning you multiple toys.

after, he took you back home and you promised to let him take you out again.

you and yuta’s second date took place at a simple 80’s themed diner, in one of the better spots of your town. as the neon lights flicked onto yuta’s skin and seemed to set his eyes even more ablaze, you sipped on your strawberry milkshake as you listened to him ramble about the daily occurrences he has to face.

you quickly forgot the reason why you even began to let yuta take you out when he kissed you on your doorstep, that night.

“your highness,” taeyong knocks on yuta’s door, one night, a few months later. “doyoung and i would like to speak with you about something.”

yuta turns his gaze from the book he was reading to his royal servants, one of whom remained loyal to him all these years. “yeah, come in?”

taeyong walks in, standing opposite to taeyong while doyoung lazily sits on yuta’s bed, crossing his legs. they both stay quiet for a while, and yuta furrows his brows confusedly.

“what is it?”

“i’m sure that you’ve noticed that mark hasn’t been coming out of his room for the past few months,” doyoung says, raising an eyebrow. “any reason?”

yuta ponders for a moment and then shakes his head. “no?”

“your highness,” taeyong sighs. “you’ve been arriving home with the stench of human blood for the past months. it’s absolute torture for the young boy. he’s just turned recently, so his senses are heightened.”

yuta closes his book. “he was turned a year ago, he should be fine by now,” yuta mutters, already deciding to dislike the topic of conversation. “why, do you guys have a problem with it too?”

“if you’ve got a blood bank, share it with us,” doyoung says, matter-of-factly. “i know you’ve been going out to get your share of blood, and the scent is fucking delicious, and we need it.”

yuta scoffs. “i don’t have a blood bank, doyoung,” he says. “although i don’t know why you’re acting as if i’d share it with you. maybe if you continued to be loya-”

“there you go again with your loyal shit,” doyoung groans. “there are only a few more vampires left on this earth and you’ve barely done anything to track down the hunter that’s been on the loose for the past few months. last i heard, qian kun and his coven were wiped out in beijing just last week. why would i be loyal to you if you haven’t been loyal to us? arent you supposed to be our king?”

“doyoung,” taeyong sighs. “that’s enough.”

“doyoung,” yuta stands up, towering over doyoung. “i tore apart every single vampire hunter with my own two hands, to the point where their existence were wiped out for more than a century. if it wasnt for me, your corpse would be buried in the ground without a head.”

doyoung stands. “you tore them apart nearly a century ago,” his voice grows louder. “you tore them apart a century ago and thats the only thing you’ve got underneath your belt to remain king but guess what!? there’s a new hunter! and they haven’t been killed yet! and if they fucking find us, yuta, the existence of vampires will be gone.”

“maybe that’s what should be,” yuta mutters. “we’re monsters.”

“are you saying you’d rather be human scum than to be immortal?” doyoung widens his eyes. “that you’d let a fucking vampire hunter win over your own kind?”

“doyoung, that’s enough.” taeyong stands in front of doyoung before the jet-black haired man could say anything more. “your highness. whoever the person you’ve been meeting is, they’re not worthy of your admiration. i beg of you to end it now before our coven is in danger.”

when yuta shows up on your doorstep, the flame behind his irises seem to burn deeper than how they usually do.

“oh, hey babe,” you say, as you let him in. your apartment was in disarray, clothes strewn everywhere. “sorry for the mess, i was just unpacking my stuff from my trip to ch-”

“i need you.” yuta nearly growls, backing you into the wall. your jaw becomes slack as you widen your eyes when your back meets the wall, his lips coming into contact with yours in a flurry of desperation.

when he pulls away for air, he’s panting, pressing his forehead against yours.

“babe, what’s gotten into you?” you ask him, half amused, half turned on.

“i just miss you a lot,” he says, peppering your neck with kisses. “i was lonely here while you were having fun abroad.”

you let out a moan when you feel him nip at one specific spot in the crook of your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to lightly sooth the pain. “well, you’re not lonely now.”

sex with yuta is not only physically draining, but emotionally as well - each time you find yourself entangled in your bedsheets with him, he’d let out all the emotions that he’d been facing the past few days, as if he were yearning for a clean slate at the end of it.

and while he lets out those emotions, he ends up being needy, which makes him rough - even while he kisses you tenderly, you can’t help but scream every time his hips snap back into yours.

even now, while you hover above him, arching your back as you letting out screams of pleasure while he thrusts his cock inside of you again and again from underneath, watching your face contorted in bliss although you’re sure that your neighbours have grown sick of hearing the two of you at times like these.

he pulls you back down towards him, hands fumbling when he flips the two of you over as he continues to rut into your hips while he cups your face to kiss you in an effort to mute your moans, but even then, knowing how far you break just because of what he does to you fuels his ego.

“you gonna cum baby?” yuta growls, pinning your hands down to your side as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. “you gonna cum from my cock?”

“fuck, yes, yuta!” you mewl, voice broken and hoarse from screaming all night. “keep going, k-keep going.”

you feel his cock reaching deeper and deeper inside of you as if he were planning to leave a mark within you, your bed beginning to move with his hips as it squeaks with every thrust. a few more ruts and you feel the familiar knot appearing in the pit of your stomach, your walls tightening around him as you feel the burning need to scream his name form in your throat once more.

“yuta!” you scream, unable to grasp at anything for support due to his hands pinning your entire body down, the feeling inside of you grows more intense. “i’m gonna cum! i’m gonna fucking cum!”

“cum for me baby,” he mutters, hips snapping in and out of you. “cum for me and scream my name. tell your neighbours who owns this dirty little cunt. tell your neighbours who fucks you so good.”

and you do, back arching off your mattress as you cum, lewd words stringed with his name escaping past your lips. the sight alone is enough to push yuta over the edge as well, littering your stomach with white as he pumps himself onto you.

for the next few seconds, you lay in bed in order to recollect yourself as well as to let the numbness slow down between your legs. yuta, however, pulls the sheets over him before he drops his legs to the floor, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“yuta,” you grab his hand. “come lay with me.”

he stays silent for a while, and you hear him gulp. “(y/n), i have to tell you something.”

you furrow your eyebrows as you wait for him to continue, pulling the sheets over your naked body.

“i,” he stammers. “i can’t keep lying to you.”

“what do you mean?”

“when we first met, that man who tried to attack you,” he whispers. “i… i did something to him.”

there is a beat in the air before he keeps talking.

“i heard you crying, and so i went there, and i saw you and… you just felt so familiar to me.  and i had to save you, so i killed that man and,”

he puts his face in his hands.

“(y/n), i’m a monster. i’m a monster and you shouldn’t love me.”

“why, yuta?” you whisper as you sit up to move closer to him.

“because, that man… i killed him and drank his blood,” his whispers. “(y/n),”

“yes, yuta?” you get up off the bed.

“i’m a vampire.”

the air between the both of you is silent for only a second, yuta screwing his eyes shut as he braces the impact of you possibly not believing him and laughing in his face, or of you screaming in fear before begging him to leave your house and to never see him again.

he fears for the worst, hoping that whatever happens, the least hurtful comes to truth.

but while his eyes are screwed shut, he does not hear you at all - he does not smell you, he does not feel your presence.

he only opens his eyes when he feels the cool, sharp metal against the skin of his neck. he gasps when his eyes meet yours - the same flames burning in your irises, but now they burn clearer.

you never housed the eyes of his lover.

you housed the eyes of his lover’s killer.

you smile at him sweetly while you press the blade of bloodlust against his skin.

“your highness,” you whisper. “it’s nice to see you again.”

[kimberlynicolefatallo7]

BLOG #4

Eveline by James Joyce

Eveline has been told as one of the shortest stories that make up James Joyce’s collection Dubliners (1914).

Eveline pinpoints to an Irish woman, nineteen years of age who tried to escape the poor life in Ireland and his abusive father.

Eveline's mother was long dead and his father is a drunkard. Harry, her brother is always busy at work and her another brother, Ernest was gone. She was a victim of a verbal abuse from her father when she tried to ask for money everg Saturday. As a young girl and the only girl in the family, she was responsible for house-keeping on a daily basis.

Evelyn was so tired on her life. So she decided to eloped with Frank to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Frank was her lover for a long time and a sailor.

When the time of leaving came. Evelyn suddenly change her mind. She cannot leave the place where her memories lies together, where her childhood paved its way to a woman whom she is now. She cannot move on from the past maybe she was deeply rooted to her family and to Ireland.

Let me leave Joyce's further explanation on this story why Eveline has a twist ending ( according to my research) :

"Eveline depicts her current existence as dull, uninspiring, even oppressive, with her abusive father highlighting the idea that the older generation needs to be cast off if young Ireland is to forge itself into a new nation. Even the good aspects of the old Ireland, such as Eveline’s mother and her older brother Ernest, are dead and gone. The promise of a new start in a new country (in a city that means literally ‘good air’) seems like the best way to shake off the musty old air of Ireland."

A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner

This story is considered Gothic. Gothic literature elements that verge on horrorand romanticism. A Rose for Emily in other words, is a tad bit creepy.

The first part of the story started with a flashback. As the narrator narrates Emily's funeral, the second part of the story used a flashback to show who Emily was when she was alive.

This is the plot of the story: I. The townspeople attended Emily Grierson's funeral. First flashback of Emily when she was alive.

II. A flashback of her father when he died and two years after had been revealed.

III. She met Homer Barron. A flashback when she bought the arsenic.

IV. Homer entered Emily's house, the last time the townspeople saw him. Emily died at the age of 74 years old.

V. The townspeople entered Emily's house during her funeral and they discovered Homer Barron's corpse after 40 years.

I noticed in the ending of the story that the plot of the story started and ended in same manner.

The Piece of String by Guy de Maupassant

The author often wrote stories about human selfishness, wickedness, envy, spite, greed. Thus these has an enormous impact to The Pice of String.

The Piece of String has to do with injustice and cruelty of humanity. It was set in rural Normandy.

Mr. Hauchecome was walking on the road when he saw a piece of string, he get it from the dirt and he just noticed that her enemy M. Malandain was looking at him intriguingly.

When he went to the tavern, a news spread that someone lost his wallet with 500 francs in it. M. Malandain told the authority that he saw Mr. Hauchecome getting something on the road. Everyone believes Malandain and they accused Hauchecome being a theft. He tried to defend himself but the people seem insatiable.

Hours went by and the wallet had been returned but then the people still accused Hauchecome that he had planned everything. It was opposite on what he had thought that when the purse had been returned, his name would be cleared. But everyone accuses him of being a theft.

Because of too much disappointment though he was innocent, Hauchecome got ill and on his last breath he uttered, "It was just a piece of string."

The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe

A horrible disease called Red Death is the longest and greatest scourge the country. It was known for having Blood as its Avatar. It depopulated the country in a fatal and gruesome way. The scarlet stains caused by Red Death to its victims were the pests that being avoided by his fellow-men. Depriving them of aid and sympathy, terminating them down or shuts them away from the country.

Prince Prospero is the ruler of the country being scourged by the Red Death is wise enough to not give care and protection to his people dauntlessly. Thus, he and his thousands of friends shut themselves into a secured and deeply secluded castle to have fun and enjoyment. Six months later, the Prince decided to have a masquerade ball. The ball takes place in seven imperial suites of different colors (blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet, and black.) As the ball is going through a voluptuous scene and, the clock chimes and approaches in midnight. Everyone the fun stops and falls momentarily silent. Then an apparition of a not so peculiar guest that no one have ever seen before, wearing in a habiliment of the grave. As he walks through the frightened crowd, he stalks and looks like he finds someone.

The Red Death masquerader starts walk through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Princes Prospero rushed after him in hostility because of being ashamed of his cowardice in front of the guests, holding his murder weapon as he approaches. When he arrived at the black apartment, the corpse-costumed guest turns around on him. Suddenly, Prince Prospero falls to the ground, dead. And it was discovered that there’s no man beneath the mask, it was Red Death itself. The Red Death starts to murder the guest one at a time, creating a blood-bath in halls and suites. Then the flames of the tripods concluded, leaving only Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death.

War by Luigi Pirandello

A married couple leaved Rome through boarding a train carriage because their country is currently in war with Central Powers. They’re accompanied by other five people who already spent the night inside. The wife of the husband is in deep mourning and the passengers makes a room for her and they helped his wife. There’s no response from the wife as his husband checks her out. And the people found out from the husband that their son is being sent to War in three days. So, they’ll never see him for some time.

They started the discussion regarding on having a child being sacrificed at war. A passenger says that he has two sons and three nephews being sent back and forth at the front of war. Bragging up that he has much worst situation than the married couple. The husband states that they have no other children except to their son being sent at war. But the man started to scold him about the treatment of a parent to his child. Their discussion is almost in conclusion when a fat man interrupted the conversation and gave both man a wisdom about the real essence of having child. He argued that there’s no point on being sad because their children are willingly and satisfyingly die for their country.

The fat man’s point of view was commendable for the other passengers. The wife was in epiphany, finds strength and hope in his words. As the fat man getting more attentions, continues to tell the story how his son died a hero for his King and his country. Suddenly, a woman asked the fat man if his son is really dead like he didn’t learn or heard the wisdom, stoicism, and fortitude of the fat man. Everybody stared at her including the fat man. He attempted to answer the question, but he failed to utter his answer. He realized that his son is really dead and all of his statement became incongruous. He cried, his face became distorted, and weeps inevitably.

God Sees the Truth But Waits by Leo Tolstoy

God Sees the Truth But Waits' theme is faith, conflict, freedom, forgiveness, guilt and acceptance. It has a third person point-of-view.

Ivan Dmitrich Aksionov is falsely accused and imprisoned for a crime he did not commit for 26 years as Makar Semyonich suspected him to be the one who killed his acquaintance but he gave all of his faith and trust to God. He has actually the business and the money but at the end of the day everything of those got futile.

Through countless trials, he made it with God. Before all the mishaps, Ivan's wife had a bad dream about him and it turned out to be true.

During his stay in prison, he learned that Makar was the one who killed his acquaintance. One day there was a sudden twist in a story wherein Ivan did good deed for Makar. Because of that, Makar went to Ivan and ask for forgiveness and said that he will confess to the governor so that Ivan would be sent free.

Ivan did not want to go out of prison because he has no family neither a home for comfort so he just waited there until his last times.

Makar confessed his guilt but when the order for Ivan's release came, he was already dead.

(Photos from: Google)

[liesandarbor]

Sansa’s Psychological ‘Superpower’: Convincing herself shit isn’t quite as bad as it is

Throughout the main narrative and text of ASOIAF, we see Sansa Stark utilize defense mechanisms to survive being beat in front of the court (often enough that almost every member of the kingsguard had done it a few times), being touched by creepy old dudes often, and basically just suffering as a Prisoner of War.  We’re not here to chat about Sansa’s misgivings and mistakes (a young girl, age 11 in the start of AGOT), because there’s nothing to chat about with that - what I am here to chat about is Sansa’s “superpower”, and how it is basically the reason she’s alive.

(It’s not actually a superpower, she’s psychologically trying to ‘safeguard’ herself by pretending that s h i t  i s n ‘ t  b  a d, so just keep reading )

Sansa is often seen practicing Level III Neurotic Defense mechanisms, some such as displacement, denial, dissasociation, repression, rationalization  and projection  throughout the books, veiling her mind and intelligence with mostly the goal to survive.

We see her with the Tyrells beginning a secret betrothal to Willas, and in the beginning she is wary - as she should be, though this is just the beginning of her realizing that she is a pawn to move as pleased-

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . ." 

 "Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?"

 "Willas has a bad leg but a good heart," said Margaery. "He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

-ASOS, Sansa I

So we get, in typical Sansa fashion, her processing this new escape, this new loop-hole.  Ser Dontos is taking too long to get her out of the capital, she wants nothing more than to fix/fill the hole of emotional and physical abuse suffered at the hands of her beautiful, golden King, and the Tyrells have offered her the perfect scapegoat.  --- also, don’t forget to look at that immediate reaction when she is offered Willas:  I must not offend them.  A reflection on the abuse suffered- she immediately fears what will happen if she offends them, and worries about watching her only escape fade away. 

It only takes a meeting with Dontos in the godswood to cause her to second guess these emotions, to which we see her immediately transfer all of these feelings elsewhere.

 But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

Sometimes she would whisper his name into her pillow just to hear the sound of it. "Willas, Willas, Willas." Willas was as good a name as Loras, she supposed. They even sounded the same, a little. What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

-ASOS, Sansa II

Willas is close enough to Loras.  Margaery said he was kind.  She could live with that. She convinces herself that a crippled leg won’t deter her from “having true happiness” or a ‘close enough’ to true happiness (which, funnily enough, isn’t the only crippled leg that she will have to think about, but we can come back to that as an after thought).  

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed. 

“I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must . . . he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does. 

-ASOS, Sansa III

Sansa’s hopeless desperation at wanting to get out of the Lion’s Den manifests itself in several ways throughout the main narrative. We see her utilizing tools for survival, tools to protect herself from getting further hurt- we see her displace the negative emotions and events, we see her justify actions from others in her mind, anything to ease that good ol’ perfect-dream-life ideaology into place.  

We see her hopes dashed in front of her eyes as Cersei tells her she is to marry Tyrion- not even an hour before the ceremony.  Every single built up thought she spent normalizing Willas in her eyes, every defense and wall she built up to cause herself to accept that this was the only good card she had to play, destroyed in front of her.  And Sansa’s 12-year-old mind knew something had to have been wrong.  She comments on Cersei letting her have a beautiful new dress, she wonders, she pushes those thoughts away and smiles, she thinks it’s all for Willas.  Her rose, her romanticized rose who will make all of the pain of King’s Landing disappear. 

I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

-ASOS, Sansa III

She’s young and naive, but she knows and is continually learning how the game is played. Sansa knows her head rolls when she doesn’t comply, she chooses self-preservation over fighting.  

Even in her wedding bed, Sansa pushes out of her mind to find some way to rationalize being with Tyrion.  She swallows her pride, as she has done for the whole fucking 3 books, but I digress, and tries to find some sort of love for him.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how?

-ASOS, Sansa III

Our next glimpse of Sansa in ASOS has us rejoining her after her whole family pretty much gets the crap murdered out of them, and we do not get to have her exact initial thoughts and reactions to the Red Wedding.  We see her normalized, stuck into her marriage and life, going about her every day life as it has been now.  And we begin to receive a much more honest, bitter and #WOKE Sansa after her third chapter.  Sansa IV shows Sansa beginning to pull out of some of her most internal struggles and psychological defenses.

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.

and 

But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men - the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery - and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

and

Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.

-ASOS, Sansa IV

and here is where Sansa breaks. You see, Sansa V is where her traumatized, 12-year old brain can no longer take anymore of her repressing, pretending, pushing thoughts and blames and abuse onto anything and anyone, like a sponge that’s been thoroughly soaked, Sansa is completely conflicted and distraught from Joffrey’s death.

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?

She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before.

-ASOS, Sansa V

The progression of hysterics that Sansa finds herself in the midst of during her flight from King’s Landing shows us a lot at once- she is having a whole flashbang of emotions happen at once.  One, her abuser is dead.  The stem of a large amount of torment she had gone through is completely gone.  Destroyed.  She’s free.  She’s finally free from the threats of rape and being beaten by the King.  but her conditioning is still kicked in.  She struggles through her own thoughts to find how she really feels- something she hasn’t been allowed to do over the last year.  

I don’t plan on delving in to AFFC right now to continue how Sansa’s behaviors and mechanisms have progressed/regressed/changed, however we see as we peruse Sansa V that her torment isn’t over yet.  She’s fallen right back in hand with someone who isn’t as physically dangerous to her (at the moment) as Joffrey was, but someone who’s skilled in psychologically manipulating others, who can prove just as dangerous- especially with someone in such a weak and easily swayed psychological mindset who has endured so much continuous trauma- Littlefinger.

He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home."

-ASOS, Sansa V

Littlefinger takes Sansa at her most sensitive and whisks her away.  Most people follow the Hades/Persephone parallels ( "Thank you, my lord." Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin.), but there is so much more to be gathered.  Littlefinger took a bird with a broken wing, thinking that this would be easy and simple to manipulate and succeed with.  But Littlefinger doesn’t understand that Sansa Stark has already started waking up.  She’s already started to come out of her defense mechanisms.  Slowly but surely she has been chipping away at dealing with the truth.  She has begun to accept that she was a pawn, begun to accept that she was easily manipulated, and come to the truth that no one will want her except for her claim.  

Which is the rebirth of Sansa Stark.  Where will her plot lead? There’s still a long road ahead for Sansa’s arc and plot, and a lot of learning for her to do.  No, she is not a master player of the game, and no, she is not a supreme manipulator (yet).  It is going to take all of TWOW, further betrayal from Littlefinger, and Sansa using everything that she has observed from Littlefinger and her own wits to get her to the point of “And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. “ 

But she will get there.   By the age of 13, Sansa has suffered sexual, emotional, verbal, physical and pretty much any line of abuse that you could muster into thought.  She has survived it.  She kept herself in her own head, created fake situations and thoughts to displace the pain of the memories (unkiss comes to mind), but Sansa Stark has woken up and the wolf bitch is comin’ home.   

Sansa’s love life is one that’s up for debate consistently in the ASOIAF world, and while I don’t want any of her ‘love’ life to be the focus of this essay (I wouldn’t consider any of her political marriages to be love, despite her convincing herself to love Loras), I do love the chemistry, energy and connection between Sansa and Sandor, the only one of her male ‘suitors’ (wouldn’t really call him a suitor, but we’ll leave it for now) who gave her a choice and did not attempt to manipulate her for his political/regular gain.

And, just for some good ol’ crackpot fun, Sansa did convince herself that she could love a lame man in ASOS.....

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. "Be more watchful there," chided Brother Narbert. "Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt." The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear.

-AFFC, Brienne

TL;DR: Sansa Stark used defense mechanisms because she is a prisoner of war who has suffered mountains of abuse, and she protected the shit out of herself by doing so.  The first 4 books for Sansa Stark were about survival: the next 3 are going to be about taking back her agency and her power of choice, and bringing parts of the realm back together.

[cardinalgrce]

I. Sex, Drugs, Etc - Beach Weather

Bulletproof passengers // On the road to sex, drugs, etc // Get out the dark and into the light // Everywhere I go I know that I don't want to be // Part of something I won't ever need; // Your socialized, romanticized life // Floating on my low key vibe // Floating on my low key vibe, vibe, vibe // I don't need that late night high // I'm floating on my vibe // Vibe, vibe, vibe, vibe, vibe //

Grace has never been one who needed attention, nor has she ever felt a need for people to always be surrounding her. She’s not a wild one for a very good reason. She’d rather stay at home, spend time with one or two friends, she doesn’t need that highly sought after life teens so desperately crave. She’s happy with staying low key and comfortable.

II. Not Afraid Anymore - Halsey

You better impress now // watching my dress now fall to the floor // Crawling underneath my skin // sweet talk with a hint of sin // Begging you to take me // Devil underneath your grin, sweet thing, but she play to win, heaven gonna hate me // And touch me like you never // And push me like you never // And touch me like you never // 'Cause I am not afraid, I am not afraid anymore //

More and more lately, Grace has been growing so tired of her same old routine. She always plays things so safe, she never fights, never pushes things farther than they should go. It’s growing old. She’s going to die before every one of her friends, she needs to get started now and do everything before her last day. And she wants to do those things with the people who mean most to her.

III. Just Stay - Skyler Day

if you were to leave here // to go find your heart // chasing an old life // far away from my arms // if she's what you want // if there's still a flame // if you need to find out // i won't stand in your way // but if you want // you could just stay forever // you and i together // and no one // no one would love you better // than I will //

Grace let Hunter walk away from her, she made it easy for him to leave and go off into another girl’s arms, and she’s accepted that mistake she made. She wants him to be happy, and if he’s happy with another, that’s another thing she has to accept. But in her heart she knows, she could be better for him, and that to some capacity, she’s just waiting for him to realize that and come back to her.

IV. Bedroom Window - The Pretty Reckless

As I look out of my bedroom window // Is it all real or just fantasy? // I have lost touch with what makes me human // I have lost touch with reality // It's all too much for me // All too much for me //

As Grace continues to keep her illness a secret from everyone, her world away from home is starting to feel more and more false. No one knows the time she’s spent in the hospital, or the nights she spent curled up with her mother as she did her treatments, begging her lungs to just keep working. Nothing outside of her illness feels real anymore and all that feels real is her imminent death.

V. The Strays - Sleeping With Sirens

My whole life they said I'd be nothing // Well I'm something // And I would rather be the stray // Than be nothing to no one at all // Hubcaps and ashtrays // I was born but wasn't raised // Hold on, don't look back // You know we're better we're better than that // Lost and thrown away // You know we're better we're better than that // Cause we are the strays //

Grace always belonged with the outsiders. She was born one of them and will always be one of them. She’s been pushed aside, made fun of for being different, and thrown away her entire life. But she found a place amongst her friends that she renamed the misfits. They are the strays of the world, come together because they know they must mean something to someone.

VI. Here - Alessia Cara

Excuse me if I seem a little unimpressed with this // An anti-social pessimist but usually I don't mess with this // And I know you mean only the best and // Your intentions aren't to bother me // But honestly I'd rather be // Somewhere with my people we can kick it and just listen // To some music with the message (like we usually do) // And we'll discuss our big dreams // How we plan to take over the planet // So pardon my manners, I hope you'll understand it // That I'll be here // Not there in the kitchen with the girl // Who's always gossiping about her friends // So tell them I'll be here // Right next to the boy who's throwing up 'cause // He can't take what's in his cup no more // Oh God why am I here? //

It’s pretty obvious why Grace was never even considered by the wild ones- she doesn’t party. She’s never enjoyed parties, partly because she can’t drink while on her CF meds, but also because it’s all so unnecessary to her. The music is too loud. It’s always too crowd. Everyone is usually sweaty. People get too messy. Drama is almost inevitable. She hates to dance. Parties are just not her scene and when she does go, she questions why she’s even there in the first place the entire time.

VII. Sick in the Head - The Lumineers

People say I'm no good // Write me off, oh yes they should // Fuck 'em they're just sick in the head // They're writing my history // Think somebody should've asked me // Everyone was safe in their beds // Their beds // And I said // I won't live, won't live like them // Everyone, they're all seeing red // I don't know // If it's alright with you, but I'll be gone // A ghost will be here in my stead, my stead // And I said // I can't live life underneath it all // Everyone is older now and gone // I will not be here forever dear // So let's just make this count a lot in here //

Grace has always felt like her CF has controlled her. The doctors, her mom, they’re all telling her how her life is going to go. She knows she’ll be gone someday, probably before her own mother, but she won’t let others write her life. She’ll write each page herself, and hopefully make them count.

VIII. Drown - Bring Me The Horizon

What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead // Got a hole in my soul, growing deeper and deeper // And I can't take one more moment of this silence // The loneliness is haunting me // And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up // It comes in waves, I close my eyes // Hold my breath and let it bury me // I'm not okay, and it's not alright // Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again? // Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? // Save me from myself, don't let me drown // Who will make me fight? Drag me out alive? // Save me from myself, don't let me drown //

It was easier before- before she had friends, before there were people who meant so much to her, before she had felt love- but things are so different now. Grace wants her friends to know what she’s going through, but she knows it’s all for selfish reasons. She wants people to help her, support her, be there for her through her fight with CF. She hates being so alone in it all, she can’t do it on her own any more. Her mom can’t be the only person trying to save her from her inevitable drowning.

IX. Human - Christina Perri

I can hold the weight of worlds // If that's what you need // Be your everything // I can do it // I can do it // I'll get through it // But I'm only human // And I bleed when I fall down // I'm only human // And I crash and I break down // Your words in my head, knives in my heart // You build me up and then I fall apart // Cause I'm only human //

Grace hates the fact the everyone thinks she’s heartless or emotionless just because she chooses not to show her emotions or express her feelings. She wishes people could see she’s a human just like them and her feelings get hurt and she feels things deeply. She has a heart and she simply chooses to protect it fiercely, but that doesn’t mean she posses no feelings or emotions, she’s just not sure how to get her friends to see that.

X. Oh Death - R.I.S.E.

Oh, Death, how you're treating me // You close my eyes so I can't see // Hurting my body, you make me cold // You run my life right out of my soul // Oh, Death Oh, Death // Won't you spare me over for another year? //

Since she can remember, Grace has been looking death right in the face. It was never something she took lightly; death. It’s serious. It’s dark. And it haunts her every move. Some days, she’s accepted death more than others. But some days, she begs death, please don’t let my next breath be my last.

XI. Reaper - SIA

So come back when I'm good and old // I got drinks to drink, and men to hold // I got good things to do with my life, yeah // Oh, I wanna dance in the open breeze // Feel the wind in my hair, hear the ocean sing // I got good things to feel in my life, yeah // Don't come for me today // I'm feeling good, let me savour it // Don't come for me today // I'm feeling good, I remember when // You came to take me away // So close I was to heaven's gates // But, no, baby, no, baby, not today // Oh, you tried to track me down // You followed me like the darkest cloud // But, no, baby, no, baby, not today //

There are some days when Grace just wants it to be the end for her already. She’s suffered enough, her mom has suffered with her for long enough. But then she remembers all the things she hasn’t done, all the things she wants to do before the end, and she knows its not her time. Not just yet.

XII. She Used To Be Mine - Sara Bareilles

She's imperfect but she tries // She is good but she lies // She is hard on herself // She is broken and won't ask for help // She is messy but she's kind // She is lonely most of the time // She is all of this mixed up // And baked in a beautiful pie // She is gone but she used to be mine //

Grace feels like she’s lost herself. Her fight with CF. Her journey with death by her side. Meeting the misfits and making her first real friends. Doing everything for them. Never thinking of herself. Falling for Hunter so unexpectedly. Losing him before she had a chance to explore with him. Through all of this, she’s lost who she used to be. She’s empty, and she’s just searching for some thing to make her feel whole again.

[akissatmidnight]

Wow, you guy! I knew we got a ton of readers, but I had no idea so many of you had Scottish roots and it warms the cockles of my historically based soul to see people so interested.  What started out as just a little article has turned into a mini genealogy search, but I like to keep my historical research skills sharp, so it’s all in good fun. You can go back and read part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4 to see what other clans I’ve brought up. If you don’t see your clan and would like to learn more, maybe I’ll do a part 6, so let me know in the comments!

Clan Donald/MacDonald

Clan Motto: per mare per terras- by sea and by land

Alternative Clan Motto: fraoch eilean- the heathery isle

Ancient

Modern

Weathered

There’s a lot to learn about Clan Donald, so if you’re a member, you might want to dig about! Until then, here are just a few little tidbits…

The Donalds were one of the larger Highland clans and even have clan connections in Ireland. They are also cousins, of sort, with the MacDougal clan, as their founders came from the same Norse family.

They originated from the Norse leader Domhnall mac Ragnail and kept allegiance with the Norwegian kings for more than two hundred years until Haakon IV of Norway was defeated by Alexander III, who then became king of Scotland.

Clan Donald was such a strong supporter of Robert the Bruce, once he became king, he proclaimed that the clan would always hold the right wing of his army in battle, a testament to his faith in their loyalty.

At the end of the 1400s and the beginning of the 1500s, the Donalds lost the title of Earl Ross, which they had held for a few hundred years, meaning they lost their political holding as Lord of the Isles. In a bid to regain the position, chief Domhnall Dubh formed an alliance with King Edward VI of England against James VI of Scotland. While they didn’t get the titles back that they asked for, Edward began giving parts of the clan smaller titles, which kept them separated and lessened their threat to the British Crown.

During the Jacobite uprising, many Donalds fought at Culloden. But when they saw the carnage and began losing many members, they fled, saving their numbers.

The Mackinnon Clan

Clan Motto: Audentes Fortuna Juvat- Fortune Favors the Bold

modern

ancient

This Highland clan had control of many of the Hebride Islands and descended from Alpín mac Echdach, the king of Dál Riata, although historical archives point them having branched off from Clan Gregor. Their name comes from the Gaelic “Mac Fhionghuin”, which means “fair born”.

During the Jacobite rebellion, the Mackinnons threw their whole support behind Bonny Prince Charlie. But, after it failed, things went downhill for the small clan. They lost all of their ancestral land that was gifted to them by Robert the Bruce.

And although the clan was small in size, their level of sass was out of this world! After the failed Jacobite rebellion, the chief of the Mackinnons was taken to England and put on trial. But, because he was so old, they freed him and sent him back to Scotland. As he was getting read to leave court, the English Judge asked him, “If the King were in your power, as you have been in his, what would you have done to him?” The chief replied, “I would do to him, as he has this day done to me; I would send him back to his own country.”

Clan MacDuff

Clan Motto: Deus Juvat- God Assists

modern

hunting

The MacDuffs originated from the royals of the Picts and the early chiefs were the Earls of Fife. The MacDuffs of Fife were considered the most powerful family in the middle ages, and even though they lost the title of Earl of Fife to the Stewarts in the late 1300s, it didn’t stop them from continuing to gain power.

This Lowland clan does not currently have a chief, although the direct line hasn’t died off.

Clan Moffat

Clan Motto: Spero Meliora- I hope for better things

This clan is so old, it’s difficult to place exactly where they came from. It is thought their name is of Norse origins, but they were definitely around by the time William Wallace was fighting for independence. by the 12th century, they owned large swaths of land and were considered minor nobles.

As most border clans, the Moffats were constantly fighting with other families, especially the Johnstones. in 1557 the Johnstones murdered the Moffat’s chief and then burned numerous other clan members alive after trapping them in a building. that was the end of the Moffat chiefs until 1983.

Their clan tartan is rather new, created in 1983 when the chiefdom was reestablished. It’s heavily based on that of Clan Douglas.

Clan Gunn

Clan Motto: Aut pax aut bellum- Either peace or war

ancient

modern

weathered

Their name is among the oldest, coming from a Norse Jarl of Orkney named Gunni in the 1100s, whose wife had inherited the Jarldom of Orkney from her brother. Gunnis’ name meant “war”and he descended from Viking adventurers. Quite the interesting lineage if you’re a Gunn.

Their biggest enemies were Clan Keith and were constantly as war with them. in the 1400s it is said that a member of Clan Keith was in love with the daughter of the Chief of Clan Gunn and kidnapped her to stop her from marrying another man, shortly before her wedding. The girl didn’t return his affection and threw herself off a tower. Obviously, the Gunns were pissed and retaliated, but failed. The two of them finally came to a truce, but when they were supposed to meet in an act of goodwill, the Keiths decided to ambush them. But the Gunns got the last laugh when they killed the Chief of the Keiths and his son.

They participated in the Jacobite rebellion, but on the side of the British.

Bonus: I’m not 100% sure if Timothy Mackenzie Gunn is Scottish, but his name makes me think he hails from the clan!

Clan Macqueen

Clan Motto: Constant and Faithful

This Highland bunch are an Armigerous clan and members of Clan Chattan. They claim relations with Clan Donald and often sided with them in small clan disputes. Another large part of the clan carried the last name MacSween.

They did not participate in the Jacobite rebellion, but still ended up migrating into Ireland, and more notably Australia, beginning in the 1600s.

Clan Kerr

Clan Motto: Sero sed serio- Late, but in earnest

ancient

modern

hunting

The Kerrs were a border clan who has roots in ancient Norway, where they got their name. It comes from the Norse “kjarr” which means “marsh dweller”. It’s also origionally pronounced like “care” but when the mass migration to England and the Americas happened, the pronunciation turned into the modern “car”.

The two largest sections of the clan, the Kerrs of Ferniehurst and the Kerrs of Cessford fought with each other a lot for supremacy, but came together in their feud against Clan Scott. When a Kerr was accidentally killed in the 1520s by the Scotts, who were trying to free King James from Clan Douglas, they waited for their revenge. They knew that the band had been lead by Walter Scott, and waited until 1552 to kill him. Looks like they take their motto to heart!

Here’s a particularly fun fact, the Kerrs were known for being left handed. So much so, that their castles were often designed to suit left handed people. If you’re a Kerr, are you left handed?

Let’s look at our favorite left handed guy!

You read my mind, Fraser

The Farquharson Clan

Clan Motto: Fide et Fortitudine – By Faith and Fortitude

clan

modern

They were members of the Chattan Confederation and originated from the son of a Clan Shaw chief, named Farquhar.

By the end of the 1500s, they were gaining power and took on the nickname, the “Fighting Farquharsons”. They overtook many castles and no one dared oppose them for fear of retribution.

They supported the Stuarts 100% during the Jacobite rebellion and offered the large number of 500 men to the cause. They helped the Jacobites win many battles, but ultimately they couldn’t win the war. The Farquarson wife of the Mackintosh Chief even helped save Prince Charles Stuart’s life, earning her jail time after Culloden.

Clan Boyd

Clan Motto: Confido- I trust

They may be from Norman stock, as their name isn’t a traditional one, but more based on location. One possibility is that they got their name form the Scottish “buidh” which means “fair” or “yellow”. Or it could be a nod to the Isle of Bute.

They were strong supporters of Scottish independence and their ties to Robert the Bruce laid out their future as friends of the nobility. By the 1400s, one Boyd was young King James II’s regent, another his military tutor, and a third married the king’s sister. But they came too close to the crown and were ousted from power. But they regained their standing in the late 1500s when they put their support behind Mary Queen of Scots.

They fought for the Jacobites and the chief was later beheaded in London. His son then took the name Hay in order to try and retake the titles his dead father lost.

Their ancestral castle, formerly Kilmarnock Castle, is now Dean Castle and hosted almost every Scottish royal since it’s building in the 1350s.

Clan Colquhoun

Clan Motto: Si Je Puis – I will if I can

modern

ancient

Colquhoun was a the name of a piece of land that was passed to Umphredus de Kilpatrick by Scottish King Alexander II.

They were a small, but noble family that expanded into what we know as a clan. Their strong ties to the royal family kept them close to all fights between the larger clans, but out of harm’s way. But, they were still very vulnerable to to attack, as they were more strategic people and less physical. This lead to them being slaughtered in large numbers by Clan MacGregor, who as we said before, got a bit rowdy at times.

The Swinton Clan

Clan Motto: J’espere, Je Pense- I Hope, I Think

There is no formally registered Swinton tartan, but some like this tartan and hold it as the Swinton plaid.

This Lowland clan came from Northumbrian stock and was probably named for the village of Swinewood in the 1130s, but a more romanticized version has it getting their name for their bravery in clearing the area of wild boars.

One member, John Swinton, is seen as the possible founder of the Quakers in the 1660s. Actress Tilda Swinton is also a member of this family and she can trace her lineage through the Swinton line, back into the middle ages!

Clan MacLellan

Clan Motto: Think On

Regular tartan #1

Regular tartan #2

Hunting tartan

This Lowland clan is considered Armigerous, as it does not have a chief. They got their name from the Gaelic “MacGille Fholain”, which means “son of the servant of St Fillan”, who was a missionary of the early Celtic Church.

They were allies of William Wallace and followed him into battle. From that time on, they were friends of the nobility and were frequently knighted. by the 1500’s, they were still rising in the peerage and were made titled lords and often seen at court. However, their closeness to the crown took a toll on their wealth. During the Scottish Civil War, their clan was almost bankrupt by their chief, who was a staunch royalist.

The title of chief has been dormant since 1832, so if you’re of the clan and think you have a shot, go for gold and see if you could claim it!

Bonus: Here’s a pic of the Maclellan’s castle, which was built in the mid-late 1500s.

Clan Home

Clan Motto: A Home! A Home! A Home!

Alternative Clan Motto: True to the End

The Home, or Hume as they are sometimes called, hail from the ancient earls of Northumbria that settled in a lard called “Home”, in the lower areas of Scotland.

They were a particularly powerful border clan, partly owing to their wealth and ties to the nobility. By the 1400s, some members were even made Lords of Parliament and the Great Chamberlain of Scotland. But their noble ties and location near the border had a downside, as they were often on the front lines against the English. But even when the English would overtake their lands, the Homes would rally up and push them out like it ain’t no thang.

The English seriously hated Clan Home. The Homes were always by the side of the Scottish kings and kicking English troops off Scottish land. So when Oliver Cromwell finally took some Home lands, and Hume Castle, he garrisoned troops there. (Pictured below). But Hume Castle’s history is really interesting. Built in the 12th century, it was the beacon of the south, responsible for overseeing the border and warning other clans about any English invasions. A fire would be lit in a tall tower, signaling it was time for battle. This was resurrected in the Napoleonic Wars.

But when the Jacobite rebellion came to pass, the Home’s swapped sides and fought with the British. But, in the long run, it was good for the clan. They continued to hold power and even present day Home/Humes are very respected. Think Alec Douglas-Home, the former PM of the UK!

One more tiny fun fact: in 1513, during the Battle of Flodden, the Home leader was rallying the troops by calling, “A Home! A Home!”. But as many under his charge weren’t Homes, they thought he was telling them to go home, so they did. Oops.

Clan Hamilton

Clan Motto: Through

The clan’s chiefs come from the noble Gilberts of Hameldone, appearing around the last 1200s, when Walter Fitz Gilbert was awarded the land, among others, due to his support of Robert the Bruce. This began their rise to power, alongside the Scottish royals.

By the 1400s, they were tightly entwined with the Scottish royal family, as Lord John Hamilton married King James III’s daughter, Mary, adding more titles and land to their clan.This notoriety of being mixed with noble stock kept them largely out of normal clan disputes.

But by the mid 1600’s, the chiefdom was in debt and the lineage so noble, there were fights over who would hold the coveted title. This weakened the clan and they began to drift apart.

Clan MacDowall

Clan Motto: Vincere Vel Mori- To conquer or die

They hail from Galloway and are of the earliest Scots clans in written history, their lineage being noted in the mid 8th century, but being mentioned as early as the 200s as being members of the noble house of Galloway. Bu the 1200s,  the name “M’douall” had appeared, which the modern MacDowall has hailed from.

There is a large MacDowall number in Ireland, due to the English sending poor Scots to settle there and cultivate the land in the early 1700s.

Through some smart marriages, this large, but mostly peaceful, clan has stayed largely out of the battles the clans are known from.

Names asked for, but not included in this list, which is focused on Scottish clans: Kirk (sept of Clan Maxwell), Paterson (sept of the Clan MacLaren and Clan Farquharson), Jack (not a clan, nor a recognized sept, but a last name), Byers (sept of Clan Lindsay), Day (derived from the Irish O’Dea), Fisher (not a clan, nor a recognized sept, but a last name) Tinley (not a clan, nor a recognized sept, but a last name), Alexander (sept of Clan Donald).

But if you’d like to know a bit about your last name, let me know and I’ll tell you a few fun facts! Also, keep an eye our for part 6, since I still have many more names to go, and let me know if your clan hasn’t been mentioned in any of these Outlandish Clan History posts, and I’ll see what I can do!

And if you have time, you can learn about Kelsey’s contemporary novel and her Scottish historical romance series here!

An Outlandish Clan History Part5 Wow, you guy! I knew we got a ton of readers, but I had no idea so many of you had Scottish roots and it warms the cockles of my historically based soul to see people so interested.