while doing one of my two assignments in Science, I decided to draw my persona(?) on a random scrap paper but slightly inspire it from rabbit hole by DECO*27
and no, I didn't purposely sexualize myself just bc the animation of it is an OC, inspired by Miku herself, wearing a sexual bunny suit so don't jump to conclusions 💀 I just made myself wear a suit with a blue bowtie- tho my character is only drawn with only the shoulders kinda visible bc i drew the sketch closer to the left corner of the paper-
also pls don't mind the terrible placement of the glasses… whateever they're called- but you'll get what I mean when you can obviously see it 💀💀 and my sort of exasperated expression is inspired by this screenshot here:
I liked the eyes cuz yeah. that's all :]]
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Once more thinking about how Susan (“and what do you do?” “I eat”) Foreman probably learned about humans and how they work maybe like 5 years ago at best, and then suddenly being stranded on their planet and also immediately needing to learn not only how to irrevocably Be Human to anyone but this human husband she acquired, but also how to mother like. Fucking four little tiny baby infant humans at least.
And she does! She does so pretty well! She can even get over the fact that humans are scared little astroxenophobic assholes considering their main source of contact right now was an unending barrage of Daleks! It’s okay, because this is her life now, away from literally anyone else who’s ever known her her entire life, and even though she doesn’t have a choice she’s choosing all of this because it makes it better—
But she still likes that life— she likes that life a lot, so much so that she can ignore that eventually it’ll end, because Susan Foreman, not Arkytior, has built a nice little life for herself far away from any other Time Lords and anything they can touch. And it’s nice, but she’s also far away from any other Time Lords and anything they can touch, too.
Until she’s Very Much Not and is thrust back into not only THE, HER two Time Lords, but one of them is directly responsible for her husband dying, and the other is inadvertently responsible for her son dying. But she has a TARDIS again now! Wow! And what perfect timing at that, considering her Grandfather is Gone again and the family she built is suddenly very much uneasy with the whole idea of, well, not their mom, but of Susan Foreman. She’s fully alien now, and that is harmful, that is toxic, that has gotten their dad and their youngest brother killed.
And there are times she could go back to Gallifrey, but she’s lived off of Gallifrey for far longer than she ever lived underfoot of the planet. It’s not home. She barely even knows a handful of people there.
She Cannot Catch A Fucking Break. She Cannot Keep A Home. She’s pretty convinced that if she tries to get too comfortable with anyone anywhere it will end horribly in some way or another. The fact that she’s held onto her TARDIS for so long makes Susan 4 & 5 wonder when it’s going to get ripped away from her too. It’s home, and you wouldn’t believe it based on the setup, but you can bet she won’t get comfortable.
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Shieldmaiden
i. I must have been made for the long defeat, she thought, for that is all I have ever been given.
ii. There was a corollary to that: the contours of my heart must have been fashioned for courage.
iii. Éomer said that their father hadn’t died quiet. He told Éowyn stories about the battle, though he knew no more what really happened than Éowyn did. Curled beneath her brother’s chin, Éowyn imagined her daddy with his jaw clenched, knuckles white around his pommel, fighting and fighting until at last he fell. “He gave those orcs a hell of a fight,” Éomer would say. “His courage will be remembered in these halls until the ending of the world.”
iv. (Somehow, it never occurred to Éowyn that perhaps her good, strong daddy would not be remembered at Meduseld for a losing battle against a dozen orcs, but because that was where the people who loved him best still dwelt.)
v. When Éowyn’s momma died, no one told stories. Momma’s defeat came like the fading of grass under the summer sun.
vi. As a girl, Éowyn gathered up courage from lines of verse and lyrics of songs: My head is bloody, but unbowed. Though far outnumbered let us show us brave. Let me not then die ingloriously and without a struggle, but let me first do some great thing that shall be told among men hereafter. She chanted those words again and again, a shield against despair.
vii. Somewhere along the line, Éowyn learned to wield a sword. This was more incidental than one might think.
viii. Théodred dead. Théoden scarcely himself. Éomer riding afar. Defeat was coming for Rohan, but to Éowyn, this was a familiar feeling.
ix. Aragorn came like a king out of a story or a song. His was the voice that cried “Bloody, but unbowed!” in her mind when she was almost despairing, high and glorious even in the face of defeat. Now, Éowyn dreamed of queenship, if only so that her voice could be like his.
x. She did not mean to tell Aragorn her deepest fear: that if she was left in Edoras as ruin fell, she would die quiet, caught in a cage and gasping smoke as the house burned down around her.
xi. “You have a sword,” Merry observed. He was right.
xii. Éowyn went to battle because she wanted them to call her brave. She went to battle because momma had faded like the grass, but daddy had given those orcs a hell of a fight. Because if defeat was coming, she did not want to wait in a failing kingdom for ruin to come and find her. No, she wanted to die like a great queen in a song, brave until the bitter end.
xiii. The grass of the fields crunched beneath her feet as she turned to face the Witch King. When she smote him with her sword, she did not feel like a queen in a song. She was only Théoden’s niece, a girl who loved her uncle and would let no evil thing touch him.
xiv. When Éowyn woke in the Houses of Healing, a fresh web of scar tissue round her wrist, victory seemed an insubstantial, fading thing.
xv. But then Faramir looked out to darkness inescapable and dared to say, “I do not believe that any darkness will endure.” He was not like a king in a song, but his words stirred up the same deep places in Éowyn’s soul where all those words of courage lived. They echoed there, louder and louder. Éowyn smiled.
xvi. When he kissed her, she felt brave as growing things are brave: like the crocuses that bloom from the snowy spring ground.
xvii. “You have desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle. Look at me, Éowyn!”
xviii. Éowyn looked at him long and steadily. I was made for the long defeat, she thought. All I ever wanted was to be brave.
xix. But if the darkness was passing, what courage was there in death?
xx. You were made for life, she heard a voice say, for sunlight and dancing and growing things. Your heart was fashioned for love and for joy. And yes—for courage.
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