#grieving book characters

[massiveladycat]

BRING HIM BACK JOHNATHAN. BRING HIM BACK JOHNATHAN MABERRY. JOHNATHAN MABERRY YOU BITCH

[deviousdayz]

I kind of hate seeing people say that the locked tomb series has no romance because like no there’s not kissing and fucking but it’s about love and almost nothing else

when you love someone so much you die to become a part of them but they love you so much that they ruin themselves to not accept your sacrifice

when two people love each other so much that they willingly lose themselves becoming one another so that they never have to be apart

when the body you’re in belonged to a person who loved someone else so much that you can feel that person’s warmth

When you love someone so much you’re upset at the fact that they didn’t love you enough to consume you so you could be one, but they only couldn’t do it because they loved you too much to lose you.

that series is so chock FULL of love it’s just that a lot of it is. not straightforward

[prolibytherium]

I never touched it but I feel like i only ever hear positive things said about song of achilles.. in (rough strokes at least) what makes it dogshit to you?

Okay it's been a while since I actually read it so some of this might not be spot on accurate. Sorry if at any point I say 'the book never does xyz' and it actually does once or twice but I think my underlying criticisms are accurate

-Patroclus is made into like this soft gentle tender quivering little yaoi boy. In the source text, he's shown as compassionate and moved by the suffering of his own men (and apparently having some medical skill, tending to the wounded in the camp), but very much invested n combat and very, very good at it (pages worth of descriptions of the guys he's killing left and right). In this, the arguably more complex character from this 8th century BC text is flattened into Being A Healer, he doesn't want to go to war he just wants to help people, he only goes because Achilles has to but he doesn't want to fight he's a HEALER he's a gentle lover NOT A FIGHTER who just wants to help he just wants to help everyone around him he HEALS while Achilles is a doomed warrior who is so good at fighting and KILLING its a DICHOTOMY GUYS!!!LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL SUN AND MOON DOOMED LOVERS SO SAD patocluse HEALER . (I Think he's specifically characterized as being BAD at fighting but might be misremembering)

-I don't remember much about Achilles' characterization I think it just makes him less of a jackass while not adding anything of interest and levels out into being mad boring.

-Not getting into the literal millenias old debate whether the mythological characters Achilles and Patroclus were being characterized as some type of lover by the original oral sources of the Iliad or its Homeric writers. We will never know. We don't even know what (if any) culturally accepted conventions of male homosexuality existed in bronze age Greece (we know much more about their descendants). But there are some interesting elements of their characterization in this direction, with how unconventional their relationship is WITHIN the text itself- Patroclus is described as cooking for Achilles and his guests (very specifically a woman/wife's job), Achilles chides Patroclus like a father, but there's also scene where Achilles' mourning of him directly echoes a passage of Hector's wife mourning her husband, Patroclus is explicitly stated to Achilles' elder, and is overall treated as his equal or near-equal, closest confidant and most beloved friend (to the point that pederastic classical Greeks would debate over who was erastes (older authority figure lover) and who was eromenos (adolescent 'beloved')- many took it as a given that this text depicted their present-day cultural norms of homosexual behavior but it existed so Outside of these norms that it had to be debated who was who). Their relationship is non-standard both within the text and to the descendants of the civilization that wrote them.

Basically what I'm saying is this book had opportunities to like, explore the unconventionality of the relationship (being presented here as explicitly lovers), explore the dynamics of why Patroclus wants to do 'women's work' (besides being a tenderhearted softboy), the weird dynamics where they take on paternal roles to each other but also roles of wives, how they feel about being this way, and just kind of Doesn't. Which I guess isn't an intrinsic fault (because it omits much of what I just talked about to begin with). it's just like.... Lame. This book takes jsut abandons everything interesting about the source text in favor of flattening it into bland Doomed Yaoi.

-The conflict that sets off the core story of the Iliad is Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis, an enslaved Trojan woman taken by Achilles as a war-trophy, Achilles spends most of the story moping because he was dishonored by his 'trophy' being taken. Achilles and Patroclus and everyone else are raping their captives, all the women in the story are either captured Trojans (or in the case of the free women within the walls of Troy, soon to be enslaved, and are slave owners themselves). Slavery as an institution and extreme patriarchal conventions are innate to the text and reflective of the context in which it was developed. You cannot avoid it.

But obviously you can't have your soft yaoi boys doing this, so the author has them capturing women to Protect Them from the other men. Their slaves are UNDER THEIR PROTECTION and VERY SAFE (and they might even Like And Befriend Them but I might be misremembering that. Briseis does though). Our heroes have apparently absorbed none of the ideals of the culture they exist in and the author seems to think "they're gay and aren't sexually attracted to their captives" would translate to them being outright benevolent (also as if wartime sexual violence is just about attraction and not part of a wider spectrum of violent acts to dehumanize and brutalize an accepted 'enemy')

In the source text, Briseis mourns Patroclus as being the kindest to her of her captors, who tried to get her a slightly better outcome by getting her married to Achilles (which probably would be the Least Bad of all possible outcomes for a woman in that situation, becoming a legal wife instead of a slave), and wonders what will happen to her now that he's gone. This is a really really sad, horrible, and compelling dynamic which could be fleshed out in very interesting ways but is instead is tossed entirely aside in favor of them being Besties. Like brother and sister.

All of the above pisses me off so much. If you don't want to engage in the icky parts of ancient/bronze age Greece then don't write a retelling of a story taking place in bronze age Greece. I'm not gonna get mad at children's adaptations of Greek myths or silly fun stories loosely based on them for omitting the rape and slavery but it is SO fundamental to the Iliad. If you're not willing to handle it, either fully omit it or better yet set your Iliad inspired yaoi in an invented swords-and-sandals setting where you can have all your heartbreaking tragic doomed lovers plot beats and not have to clumsily write around the women they're brutalizing.

-The author didn't seem to know what to do with Thetis and she made her just like, Achilles bitch mother who spends most of the story trying to separate our Yaoi Boys (iirc her disguising Achilles as a girl and hiding him on Scyros is made to be more about getting him away from Patroclus than trying to save her son from his prophesied doom in the Trojan War) until she sees how much they loooove each other and I think helps Patroclus' spirit get to the afterlife or something in the end?

-This is more of a personal taste gripe but it has that writing style I loathe where the prose feels less like a story and more like an attempt to string together Deep Beautiful Hard Hitting Poetic Lines that will look great as excerpts on booktok (might predate booktok but same vibe). It's all very Pretty and Haunting and Deep but feels devoid of real substance.

I really like The Iliad and The Odyssey in of themselves. They're fascinating historical texts that give a window into how 8th century BC Greeks told their stories, saw their world, interpreted their ancestors, etc. And genuinely I think these texts have 'good' characters, there's a lot of complexity and humanity to it.

WRT the Iliad- all of the main Achaeans are pretty fascinating, the one singular part where Briseis Gets To Talk and laments her situation is great, Achilles fantasizing that all of the Trojans AND the Achaeans die so he and Patroclus alone can have the glory of conquering Troy (wild), Achilles asking to embrace Patroclus' shade and reaching out for him but it's immaterial (and the shade being sucked back underground with a 'squeak' (the squeak kinda gets me it's disturbing and sad)), Hecuba talking about wanting to tear out Achilles' liver and eat it in a (taboo, exceptioally pointed) expression of rage and grief for his mutilation of her son's corpse, just one tiny line where the enslaved women performing ritual wailing for their dead captors are described as using it as an outlet to 'grieve for their own troubles' is heartrending, etc. A lot of grappling with anger and grief and the inevitability of death, a lot of groundwork laid for characters that could be very interesting when expanded upon in the framework of a conventional novel.

And Song Of Achilles really doesn't do much with all that. I know a lot of my gripes here are kind of just "It's different from the Iliad", I would have thought of it as mostly mediocre and forgettable rather than infuriating if it wasn't a retelling (and I DEFINITELY have strong biases here). But I think the ways in which it is different are less just a product of a retelling (of course there's going to be omissions and differences) and more a complete and utter disinterest in vast majority of its own subject matter, to the book's detriment. I think a retelling has a point when it EXPANDS on the source, or provides a NEW ANGLE to the source. This book doesn't Really do either, it just shaves off the complexity of its source material, renders the characters into a really boring archetype of a gay relationship, and gives very little else. Its content boils down to a middling tragic romance that has been inserted into the hollowed out defleshed skeleton of the Iliad.

Bottom line: I definitely would not be as mad about it if I wasn't familiar with the source material but I think it's fair to expect a retelling to Engage with/expand on its source, and I also think it's weak purely on its own merits. This book was set up to disappoint Me specifically.

[jaxx-a-phone]

Aouv/Aood Headcanons

Alistair cried upon finding out about the lifespan of certain species of moths when he was around 5

Briony is stupidly good at geography. Show her a picture and she’ll be able to identify where it was taken no matter how blurry it is

Isobel has a cat (either tabby or calico)

Alistair is a cat person, Hendry is a dog person

Gavin is stupidly good at math

Alistair is the shortest of the four main champions

Gavin would love vocaloid music if he could listen to it

Alistair writes poetry and short stories

Briony loves the color blue

Isobel would’ve had a Neopets and/or a Webkinz account when she was younger if they had it (she would’ve kept all of the stuffed animals too)

Briony wanted (and still kinda wants) a really big bird as a pet; probably a hawk

Gavin is the tallest of the four main champions

Gavin loves the color green

Isobel had a bob haircut until she was in 6th grade

[yuridovewing]

i knowwww these two things arent really comparable but its insane seeing people whine that madoka magica is “misogynistic torture porn” for *checks notes* being a tragedy and having bad things happen. while im rereading warrior cats and they are inventing new fun ways to punish sparkpelt for breathing every other book

[ak-harper-loves-fiction]

Short Story About Grief

This story is about side characters from the book I'm working on called From Then and Back Again (a psychological thriller about trauma recovery). I wanted to give my less-focused-on characters more depth and spotlight, so here is a short story about their past and the loss of their father (this takes place 5-ish years before the events of the book). Here it is:

Lupe rubs her thumb across the family portrait. Five people, all with smiles on their faces. Who are these people? she asks herself. She stares at the bottom of the bronze-colored frame and reads the inscription out loud: “La Familia Carrillo.” That used to be us, she thinks. 

She focuses on the man standing in the back. “Papá,” she whispers aloud. His brown eyes looked so alive in the picture, yet now they stare blankly. He had the warmest grin, and it had now turned cold. Tears well up in her eyes. Not again, she thinks. She squeezes her eyes shut so tight they hurt, but she still feels wetness on her cheek. She falls to her knees and looks up. “Why God, why?”  

She tries to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming down. Realizing her attempts are futile, Lupe buries her face in her hands and listens to her quiet sobs amidst the silence of the living room. Her knees burn against the carpet, but she ignores it. Then, she jumps at the sound of footsteps. She nearly drops the portrait. The steps then enter the room. She looks up to see her sister, Aurora, walking with their mother exiting the wood-floored hallway. She swiftly puts the photo back on the table where she took it off and turns to them. She offers them a small smile and a wave. 

“Hola, Lupe,” her mother greets softly. Her voice sounds as if she had just stopped crying, her curly brown hair is a disaster, and her eyes are watery. Aurora rubs her mom’s back and stares at the ground. 

“Hola,” Lupe replies. She fixes her eyes on Aurora, who she has not seen cry yet. Her older sister has huge bags underneath her eyes and remains silent. Mamá always relies on her for everything, she notes angrily. 

“I have to start filling out stuff for his wake and funeral,” her mom continues as tears stream down her face. “Aurora, ¿me ayudarás?”

“Sí,” Aurora mumbles and scratches her arm. She turns to Lupe. “Hey, can you check on Izey for me? I haven’t seen him since…” She trails off, and Lupe can see that she wants to cry so badly.

“Sure,” Lupe answers. She watches her mother and sister disappear into the kitchen and she heads down the hallway. The floor is dark wood and creaks under her feet. Along the walls are doors, most of which lead to bedrooms. She walks to her brother’s room and the door is shut. She reaches her fist out to knock, but she hesitates. Something burns inside of her. He’s the reason I didn’t get to say goodbye to Papá. She shakes her head. That wasn’t his fault, she scolds herself. You told him to say goodbye first. She holds back more tears, then knocks on the door. 

When there is no answer, she turns the knob and opens the door. “Isaac?” she asks then gasps when she sees him sitting on his bed. His hair is as disastrous as their mother’s. He looks as tired as Aurora, and he is slightly shaking. “Isaac?” she asks once again.

Isaac gets startled and lifts his head, but focuses back down after making eye contact. He mutters something so subtly that Lupe cannot make out what he said. 

“What did you say?” she questions concernedly and approaches him. 

“I’m sorry,” he responds meekly. His shaking gets more severe. “I should’ve done something.”

She sits on the bed beside him and puts her arm around him. Now her arm shakes with him. “Izey, there was nothing you could’ve done. It was a congenital heart condition.” She blinks back tears. Papá is gone forever. It was inevitable. 

Isaac crosses his arms and looks away. “Then why is Mamá mad at me?”

Because Mamá is always mad, her mind tells her to answer. Lupe looks around her brother’s dull green room, then focuses on the gray rug covering the wooden floor. She feels a chill travel up her spine. The bed was supposed to be warm, but this one is cold. “She isn’t mad at you.”

Instead of responding, he strokes a circular lump in the covers. 

“Is that Bagel?” she lightly laughs. 

Isaac lifts the gray comforter to reveal a small beagle curled up on the bed next to him. “Yeah.” He turns back to her. “He’s sad, too.”

She pulls him into a side hug. “It’s gonna be okay.” She wonders if she is saying that to him or herself. After releasing him, Lupe adds: “You should come to the kitchen with me. Mamá and Aurora are there. It’s better to not be alone. Ya know, take your mind off things. You should probably also have breakfast.”

“I don’t wanna,” he pouts. 

“You have to eat.”

“It’s fine.” Lupe squints at Isaac. At least I can distract myself by dealing with him, she tells herself. “This is unusual…even for you.”

“That’s mean,” he grumbles and he turns his back to her. He fixes his attention to petting Bagel. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she relents. “But seriously, why don’t you want to eat? You have to be at least somewhat hungry.”

“I’m not, though.”

“Be honest.”

“I am being honest!” Isaac snaps as he glares back at her. “Leave me alone.”

Lupe puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, do you want water?”

“I’m good.” He nods for her to leave. 

“Fine,” she sighs. She stands up and heads for the door. “Te amo,” she adds before leaving and shutting the door behind her. You told him to go first, she reminds herself. It’s your fault he was in there when Papá died. She holds her head in her hands and shakes it. She walks back to the kitchen. The kitchen is colored a warm red, but it makes her shiver. The table is covered with funeral papers. What used to seat a family now seats paperwork. Aurora and her mom are seated next to each other. Aurora immediately looks up when she notices Lupe is there.

“How’s he doing?” she questions. Concern fills her voice. She seems to be holding her breath in anticipation. 

Lupe just shakes her head. She then notices the fifth chair at the head of the table. Papá will never sit there again, she thinks. She bites down on her tongue.

Interrupting her thoughts, Aurora begins standing up. “I better go help him-”

Their mom holds out her hand. “Necesitamos terminar.” She gestures to the papers on the table. 

“Right,” Aurora mutters as she sits back down. 

“Don’t worry your sister,” their mother scolds and glares at Lupe. “Isaac will be fine.” She takes a breath to choke back tears. “He is just as strong as his father. He’s the man of the house now.”

“Fine,” Lupe says through gritted teeth. She balls her hands into fists and walks down the hall. She hopes she is stomping. She wishes it would make her mom listen. I hate her so much, she thinks. Isaac is ten. He is not a man. Aurora is fifteen. She is not a therapist. I’m twelve. I’m not a demon. Why does she hate me so much anyway? 

She reaches her room and slams the door. She analyzes the lavender walls and the wooden dressers that her dad used to see when he would come in there. The electric guitar he bought her is placed on its stand in the corner of the room. He fought with her mom over it for weeks before he got it. He won’t ever buy you anything ever again. Her mouth quivers and her eyes build up moisture. She runs to her bed and collapses face-first on it. She weeps into her violet covers, the warmth of them reminds her of her father’s hugs. “I miss you so much, Papá,” she whispers as she holds her hand out, pretending her father is there to hold her hand. “How are you gone?” She lifts her head and sits up, tears still streaming down her face. She allows her legs to dangle off of her bed. She stares up at the ceiling. “I hope you’re in a better place, Papá. Te amo.”

She slaps her forehead. I need a distraction, she tells herself. Isaac. She wipes away her tears and stands up. She takes a deep breath and leaves her room. She gazes down the hall and sees Isaac’s door is open. She also hears Aurora’s voice. Of course. She makes her way to his room and stands in the doorway. She peers inside and sees Aurora sitting next to Isaac and Bagel.

“You can’t stay in here all day,” Aurora informs him while putting her hand on his shoulder. 

He pulls her hand off. “Mamá doesn’t want to talk to me, Aurie. I don’t wanna bother her.” He continues to keep his eyes only on petting Bagel. 

Lupe steps into the room and places herself in the conversation. “She’s right, Izey. You can’t let Mamá get to you like that.”

Aurora gives Lupe a dirty look, then returns to Isaac. “Mamá isn’t trying to get to you. She’s just in a bad way right now, like all of us. She’ll come around eventually. But in the meantime, you need to take care of yourself.”

He does not answer. 

“You can’t keep making excuses for her,” Lupe scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. “Isaac didn’t do a single thing wrong. Don’t act like she’s all innocent.”

Aurora rolls her eyes and facepalms. “I never said he did anything wrong. I said he needs to give Mamá some time to process-”

“Process what? That Papá is dead? The same thing everyone else is processing? You can’t expect everyone to accommodate for her stupi-”

“What’s going on here?” their mom inquires as she steers Lupe out of the doorway. “Aurora, I still need your help. I just had to use the bathroom, remember?”

“Of course,” Aurora responds sweetly with a fake smile. She stands up and walks over to her mother. 

Their mom smiles back. “Puedes esperar en la cocina, amor.”

Aurora nods and leaves for the kitchen. 

Their mother turns to Lupe. “I thought I told you not to trouble her.”

“But-,” Lupe tries to protest. 

“I don’t need to hear an explanation from you. I told you he would be fine.” She gestures towards Isaac who winces and uses one hand to grab his covers. She continues, but never once looks at him. “He can figure things out on his own. What good is a son if he can’t take care of himself? Might as well have had three daughters then.” She storms off back to the kitchen.  

Lupe hears Aurora say something about how their mom should take it easy on them, but she just shuts her eyes tightly. Reopening them, she turns to check on Isaac. He is still petting Bagel, but he is more tense than he was before. “She’s being too hard on you,” she says to him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers and his voice shakes a little. “She never liked me very much anyway.”

“That’s not true. She loves-”

“Lupe,” he starts while lifting his head to look at her with pleading eyes. “Be honest. Are you mad at me, too? Is Aurie mad-”

“No, no!” she refuses to let him finish. A hole is drilled in her stomach. It’s your fault he blames himself. “Izey, Mamá is crazy for blaming you for this.” She kneels on the floor in front of him so they match in height. “This is not your fault. At all.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.” Lupe offers him a smile. Stay strong, she tells herself. 

Isaac does not smile back. Instead, he picks up Bagel and places him on his lap. He hesitates, then finally says: “Thank you.” It comes out more like a question.

“You’re welcome,” she answers sadly and stands up. She goes to leave her brother’s room, but she stops at the entrance. She looks back at her brother and thinks: Oh Papá, please come back. 

[kvroii]

It's not like I'm trying to softlaunch an old project of mine again haha nooooooo,,

Anyways, I gave a new outfit to an old OC from 2017 that I was on the fence about and now I love his design again.

Ignore how lazy the sketch is, just wanted to put together a concept sketch (before I go back to working on my current main project. Crystal Cursed from 2017 you will get your turn again on the braincell when im done playing with Myrios Series for now).

[thelastspeecher]

This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I don't often cry at books. Even the ones that hit me the hardest and most deeply, I don't cry.

But the ending of The Sun and the Star of all things got to me and now I'm crying at work bc I decided to finish it on my lunch break.

[massiveladycat]

a little brain dead my mind is kind of jammed i have been speedreading books over the past month if you asked me what month it was i'd reply pjo. guys my mind is full of rot and ruin and the death cure and im STILL mourning newt and octavian and tom. NOT okay how every character i absolutely love jst has a chain reaction of DYING. read dust and decay?? tom gets SHOT IN THE BACK. read blood of olympus?? octavian ACCIDENTALLY SHOOTS HIMSELF OUT OF A CANNON!!! and newt. how could you do that to newt

[bb-fennelposting]

no no no this makes perfect sense to me @bonefall

[sunjaede]

Nightly doodle

(ITS SUPPOSED TO SAY LAIR NOR LIAR)

[wellzofyouth]

That one post of my mine predictably aged like fine wine. Never let somebody on comic twitter in the writer's room😭😭😭 Like imagine a 1 to 1 adaptation of literally any event?? -1b at the box office. "Who are these people???"

[everybodyloveshippos]

Tarathiel, Drizzt, and Innovindil

[pickled-flowers]

No but like Lila said that

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

The sweet scent of blossom blooms is forever tainting the air along side the morning spring mist of dew on the very few grassy patches of meadow and windows of buildings and homes. The sun was out and about giving warmth to some and misery to others.

Fine brown shoes walk along the grey stoned street on this fine morning. Within his needle pricked and bruised hand holds a smaller paler hand of a little boy no more than seven years old dressed rather put together for his age who holds a grey tinned lunch box in his other small hand. Dalmatia, handsome, smart, suave, a good speaker, and loyal are just a few terms he got used to since before and during his time on the Isle of the Lost. Loyal and kind minion of Cruella De Vil, fashionista with a roaring personality of boldness and just a touch of crazy, he remained by her side like the loyal dog he is and helped raise her little pup after the father was no longer around.

The pair finished their stroll at a red bricked building where children are either running around screaming, standing and talking, or on the ground or on the single tree of the lawn. Dalmatia took a deep breath in through the nose, chest puffed out, "Well, look at this, first day of school." He smiled proudly and looked at the boy beside him. Carlos, ever so timid, sneaked behind the older's longer legs and buried his cute face behind his knee cap.

Dalmatia smiled softly and kneels down, "Carlos," He started, waiting for those brown eyes to peek behind the bangs that were combs before leaving the house but seem to have fallen just so, "I understand it's scary, but I promise you this is fun." "But I like to help you and mama with outfits..." The boy pouted, eyes looking down. In any other situation that look would make the dog cave and give Carlos everything he ever wanted and more, but he has to be strong for this case.

Taking in another breath to collect himself to not be swept by the emotions of spoiling the puppy rotten, Dalmatia fixes his coat and tilted Carlos' face up as his voice speaks calmly and comforting, "I know puppy, and we love you helping us to. But you can't always do that forever, you need to let your mind grow and make friends. And I know plenty of the kids here because they're were raised by amazing recruiters like yours's truly." As if on comedic que, a little boy with long black hair runs around the yard with a bucket on his head. The two watch as he runs screaming in strange child glee, and kept watching until he ran into the tree and falls on his back. ". . . Okay he's a little different cause his dad isn't that smart in his life choices..."

Carlos messes with the rubber handle of his lunchbox, lip quivering. His small shoulders tense and jump when a loud bell chimes above them. Dalmatia looked at the building and back down at Carlos, shining down a reassuring smile. The boy looked at the adult and took a breath in before slowly walking towards the steps of the entrance.

The dog waves after, "Have a good day Carlos!"

The stars aren't as bright within his eye sight.

The music was muffled and dare say distant from his hearing.

The taste of bitter saliva that mingled with stale wine he gulped was nothing among his tongue.

All his senses are hyper focused on staring at the floating lights of a little boy smiling so innocently.

Dalmatia gulped another swig of the wine as his tired burning eyes watched his special box show a new memory of Carlos on his first picture day, how proud he looked with his first fashion choice and proudly showing it off. Right now he should be inside celebrating the wedding of Mal and Ben, the future King and Queen of Auradon but as of right now he's hiding in one of the marble polished balcony having his fourth glass or the luxury squeezed grapes alone with a box of memories, a usually normal box full of little memories over the years of Carlos from his birth to his letters talking about possibly being in love with the Fairy Godmother's daughter, but after the Isle became open for all to enter and leave Carlos surprised the loyal minion and his mother with a magic spell that can project the memories as fluid and real as if they aren't images of mist at all.

"It's not healthy crying all alone you know..."

Dalmatia turned to the voice's source to find Hades walking out to the midnight air, rubbing his red leather gloves across his pale cheek for any makeup smears that may be showing as the God walked right beside him. "I remember you used to not cry in situations when the kids were younger too. Yet you always encourage Jay and Carlos to cry as open as they can." Hades said with a soft smile, eyes to the stars.

The once dalmatian doesn't look at him. Doesn't react to him. Eyes drifting back to Carlos' projector face of the memory when he was about to leave for Auradon, his smiling freckled face so fresh of anxious and hidden excitement of adventure he never dared speak of then in fear of how others' will think. The God look at the projector and his smile slowly fades off, his voice got more gentle, "You know, he would've love this... Seeing Mal being married... Seeing Evi get her dream come true... Seeing you all dressed up at a party the first time in forever..."

"He would..." Was all Dalmatia said as he rubs the box's rim, neat eyebrows frowning. "You know..." His voice cracked softly, small but Hades doesn't punch at it, he sniffs as a pause, "When... we first got the news... Cruella refused to accept it... She acted as if he was going to come in through the door as if he never left the Isle in the first place... I never heard her cry as much as I did that whole week... Or month... She barely ate... Hardly slept... It was like seeing a new person..."

Memories of Carlos' wake enters his mind, tarnishing the happy ones he just printed with the box's help, the way the room was so heavy and dull. Carlos wouldn't want that, he would want the room to be colorful like he was, would want people to laugh and smile like he did, but I guess you can't have either at a funeral. He recalled the pain he felt when he held back any sobs and tears deep inside him as he kept a brave face for everyone until he stepped outside the venue's back door and finally let it all out for only the moon to witness.

His hands shook as he feels the tears burning his eyes and even his cheeks as light black streaks began to drip down to his chin as his breathing hitch, "I-I know... I'm just a dog who helped raise his master's child, but I cared for him... As if he was my own pup... I raised him for 19 Goddamn years and now he— H-He's somehow—!" The ball of sorrow clung to his throat flesh, stopping his voice from speaking anymore words as if it hurt more than the tears and the lump.

Hades slowly put his hand on Dalmatia's back, accepting when the dog quickly shook and sobbed openly into the gentle breeze of the magical night, the box still projecting the brave soul as the memories restarted into the first time the pup opened his eyes...

I wanted to write something since I haven't written/done anything related to DVR in a long long while, sorry if it's short and/or crappy! Also I decided Carlos was 19 due to me in my last fic of the gang I had Jay be 18 when the barrier was lifted which I think was a typo and I personally headcanon Mal and Ben's wedding happened a year after the third film since I think it's canon the boys are younger than Mal and Evie or maybe I headcanoned that to the point I believed it lol

This takes place in the AU I've written before which I'm going to be sticking to since I personally love it and am kind of sad Aubrey doesn't marry Harry Hook in the future;

Part One of Aubrey Saga

Part Two

Part Three

Farja & Jay Story and Farja's Reunion

Hopefully I'll right more!

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Might be a hot take but a major character’s death is really only as good as the weight and the treatment that the narrative gives it. Sure, any author has the ability to write death as they see fit. But whether the consumer (of any given form of media) is actually able to emotionally connect and resonate with the departure of someone who has occupied a good chunk of narrative space very heavily depends on how it’s treated within the story. If it’s a major character, the narrative needs enough built-in breathing space. As in, the consumer doesn’t have to fill in the blanks as to how the death impacted the plot or the remaining characters. Let the narrative do that for them, and that would actually allow the consumer to better react and relate to that major death (sadness, anger, joy, etc). Allow the rest of the characters (who were impacted by the deceased) to react to their parting. Let them engage with the death in a manner that helps justify the character’s inclusion in the narrative to begin with. Make it clear how the character’s life and (especially) their death relate to the larger themes of the story. Because most consumers aren’t stupid. We don’t want our hands held at every waking moment, but we also don’t want our investment in a story to be insulted just for the sake of a cheap shock. Give us time to breathe and grieve. And respect that we have put in a lot of emotional investment in a story and its characters, and we deserve to have that acknowledged.