"can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?"
playlist. board. headcanons.
Wendy Moira Angela Darling. (she/her) 28. Journalist at The Daily Bugle.
+ caring, motherly, wise, imaginative, compassionate - discontented, passive, escapist, melancholy x loyal, responsible, intelligent, resourceful
bio.
The name of George and Mary’s first child, a sweet, loving, responsible daughter. A bright shining star to their life as new parents, and with time, a guiding moon to her younger brothers, John and Michael.
Wendy was gifted with love, care, support, and wisdom. Her mother’s image was one often mirrored by the ladies around them. She was dependable, held herself with grace and poise, and never faltered in a situation that required a motherly touch. Everything a woman in society needed to be to excel.
‘Be a lady like your mother, Wendy.’ She’d often be told. The mantra echoed like the grandfather clock in their living room when it struck the hour. Wendy could recite it like the poetry she memorized for her afternoon classes. Still, the echoes didn’t reach her quite as well as the chirps of the birds that often flew by her window.
Responsible. That’s what she needed to be.
A young woman has responsibilities not only to herself, but to those around her. ‘Your brothers look to you, Wendy, darling. You must look out for them.’
She’d known her brothers most her life, and they’d known her all of theirs. She knew when they needed help getting an extra snack. She knew when she needed to guide them away from late night television shows that were a bit too much for their age. She knew when Michael needed someone to help wipe his tears from his face. She knew when John needed a reminder for where he misplaced his books.
Wendy Darling was responsible not only to herself, but to those around her.
The stars never seemed to be responsible, she’d think when she would look up at them in the evening. They never twinkled the same as yesterday. Sometimes, they’d have changed spots! And moon sometimes hid away from her like a mischievous game of hide and seek.
Why, they weren’t responsible at all, were they.
There was a gift she appreciated, but others around her didn’t seem to appreciate in the same ways. Her imagination. The way her mind could conjure up images and scenes of things that never happened. How she could hear the exact voices of people she’d never met. She could even share you stories no one had ever told her.
When Wendy closed her eyes, her imagination spread wings and flew.
Flying away was irresponsible though, and not something her family often encouraged. Grounded, Wendy, your feet must remain on the ground. A career as a writer was not secure enough to take a chance on. Nevermind the awards on your walls for all that you’ve written. No, you must keep your eyes open to what’s in front of you, darling.
If she must, she supposes, blinking away stars, and clouds, and laughter. If she must be a responsible young lady.
John and Michael still needed a guiding hand at times. Adulthood took to everyone differently, and she was their older sister no matter how old they were. No matter how much they may have resented it, and no matter how much she wished they’d be easier on her.
Journalism was respectable enough. It allowed her connections, it allowed reputation, it allowed respect. The Daily Bugle was a wise choice, she was told. She wanted to write with honesty. The pen in her hand as her closest friend. But honesty was not always well received and articles need to be read for them to garner any sort of appreciation.
Lying wasn’t quite respectable, but sensationalism sells. It sells and writes her paychecks, she’d tell herself as she typed away at her quaint, quiet, office.
Still, her eyes would wander to the window she always kept open. The birds would chirp, flap their wings, and there’d be laughter in the sky. Flying away was irresponsible, but she’d never touch the skies with her feet on the ground.
musings.
biting the hand that feeds you. losing yourself in the clouds. the sensation of the first raindrop on your face. smiles that feel too heavy on your lips. a hug so soothing you lose all tension. waking up after a restful sleep.
