#i heart dorothea ♡

[causenessus]

ness!!!!! idk how i've gone this long without sending you an ask 😭🥺 ily & seeing you around always makes my day. you are actually the sweetest person to exist ever and talking to you always warms my heart 🥰

DOROTHEA!! NO WORRIES AT ALL <3 I'M ACTUALLY SO TERRIBLE AT ANSWERING MY INBOX SOMETIMES 😭 SO I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME A DAY OR SO TO RESPOND!! but ahhhh I love you so so much dorothea!!! TALKING TO YOU ALWAYS WARMS MY HEART!!! thank you for all the love and warmth and positivity you spread you are truly a gift to all of us <33333 I am so thankful for you <3 !!!!!!

[hermidetta]

there has been, for as long as they've known each other, a series of unspoken rules: to have each other's backs, to lift one another up, and to share in the heartbreaks wrought by the shards of girlhood that left them scarred. a past not so easily escapable for either of them — not with the constant reminders found at their doorsteps and in their reflections. yet, there is some solace, dorothea hopes, in knowing the other is but a door away should those dark and terrible memories awaken.

today will only be marked by good ones, if she has any say in the matter. so, preparations begin at dawn, and only the birds and the occasional knight catch sight of one lone songstress flitting from her room and back, arms full with baskets and rolls of fabric one moment, empty the next. the cycle repeats once more. boxes and trinkets, packages of various shapes and sizes, and to the rare passerby, she offers no explanation beyond a simple smile in greeting.

it's a special day.

there is no booting the girl of the hour from her room when the time comes. once let in, dorothea simply instructs bernadetta (and mr. bearkley) to close their eyes. "it'll be worth it," she promises. "i'll be quick." and so, the transformation begins. festive fabrics — soft sheens of lilacs and baby blues — are draped across the walls. three new stuffed animals are placed on her desk, seated around a small cake decorated with pastel-colored sprigs of flowers. a new mannequin, assembled and shoved into the corner with some effort, is placed next to where that trusty sewing kit is stowed.

finally, she carefully places the last gift in her friend's hands: a thick, leather-bound journal with the following inscription carefully etched into its cover in cursive:

happy birthday to my bern. your stories will take the world by storm one day.

"you can open your eyes now," she says, heart full and nearly bursting. "i decided to bring the party to you. i hope that's okay." dorothea sinks next to her on the bed and gently bumps the other's shoulder with her own. "happy birthday, bern-bear. i may have accidentally scuffed your floorboards... but you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, right?"

⠀ ⚘ birthdaydetta 2k24 ♡ ⠀

here is what he grumbles, already disgruntled by the gender, when they lift his newborn from the glowing mechanism: "a minor crest. i suppose it's better than nothing."

bernadetta cannot remember the last time she had been afforded a birthday party. it is understandable. her mother has toiled away in the capital for as bernadetta can remember, but every year she sends a letter that should, with luck, make it to her daughter within that same week.

her father usually buys himself a gift. a teaset for her twelfth that began all her training. an itchy dress and veil for her sixteenth that obscured her face with tulle because tulle was the socially acceptable alternative to a bag. nobody would want her without a bag.

"at least you're young enough to make up for your face, but even that's got a shelf life. you'd better shape up quick to be a desirable, obedient wife. there's a neighboring duke wants to replace his late one before his fiftieth birthday. you'll meet in a month's time."

(the story goes that this lesser duke saw a bare ankle and died of cardiac arrest. whatever the case, bernadetta had breathed the biggest sigh of relief. but there were more after him, of course. always more. somehow the country had no shortage of men who needed women while those men framed it the other way around.)

bernadetta has never loved herself enough to craft a real future in her head. she fears pain, but little else ought be expected from any sensible human, and in terms of the long term she would much rather vanish. she is unlike dorothea in countless ways—including here—that dorothea would elevate bernadetta in regardless.

all including here. because bernadetta opens her eyes to a future she should have anticipated as a girl, a future she should have believed to be within reach. bernadetta opens her eyes to dorothea. to sweets, to decorations, to gifts. to merriment, as if her having been born was ever worth celebration.

"dorothea..."

dorothea makes her want to believe again. in that moment her voice is tiny, wobbly, and so very afraid. afraid of her parents. afraid of the people who should have sent their wishes first. because what if they try to hurt you? bernadetta had asked dorothea once upon a time. what if they ever tried to harm her best friend now like her first one then?

the first few teardrops splash onto the leather cover, just short of the inscription. she startles and jolts to dab the spot with her sleeve, timid gasp torn from trembling lips.

"i-i'm okay!"  bernadetta blurts out her hasty disclaimer before dorothea can fret too much.  "i'm okay! it's— it's not you. or this. i like all of this. thank you for all of this! it's..."

with all of the care in the world, bernadetta sets aside the journal. she tries not to let her watery gaze catch again on the mannequin, or the cake, or the stuffies before she turns to dorothea and practically tackles her in an embrace.

"i'm happy,"  she weeps into dorothea's shoulder. in a smaller hiccup she echoes the words as if she cannot believe the veracity of them. i'm happy.

is this allowed? she is happy without permission. it is terrifying, monumental and exhilarating all at once—just like what she shares with dorothea.

bernadetta's arms tighten around her. a writer is supposed to weave great words, but what to say that could ever be enough? thank you? i love you? the floorboards aren't mine, anyway? it's always okay, you always make me feel okay?

as they sit together in that small, decorated room, mourning girlhood, celebrating each other, bernadetta only hopes her tight hug could convey all of it and more. to look into her heart and find room for forgiveness would be to cut it open and evict dorothea herself from it.

[would-they-listen-to-that]

Can I get a platonic oc x canon playlist for Rasis from Sound Voltex?

My OC this time is a younger student at her high school who Rasis was tasked to look after in case she (OC) had a bad emotional meltdown since such meltdowns have caused her to have to switch schools on multiple occasions?

Bonus points if I can get some slower tempo songs in there?

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ here you go, caller!

Bubble Gum - Clairo

Space Song - Beach House

prom dress - mxmtoon

dorothea - Taylor Swift

Ice Cream - TWICE

Who Says - Selena Gomez & The Scene

Fearless - Taylor Swift

Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane

What was I Made For? - Billie Eilish

thanks for dialing in!

[wandasaura]

hiiii its me again! im looking for literally any excuse to not do my math or spanish hw and this is the most interesting thing i can think of😊. i just wanted to ask what you favorite taylor swift song or album was😁.

-🍏

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ only someone who hates me would ask me this horrible and so fucking difficult question. will you settle for a list of my favorite songs from each album? and keep in mind that my favorite song changes more then the weather… ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

debut

♡ mary’s song / should’ve said no

fearless

♡ the best day

speak now

♡ innocent

red

♡ the moment i knew / ronan / begin again

nineteen-eighty-nine

♡ is it over now / clean / wonderland / you are in love

reputation

♡ king of my heart / endgame

folklore

♡ the lakes / this is me trying / the last great american dynasty

evermore

♡ marjorie / tolerate it / coney island / dorothea

midnights

♡ you’re losing me / you’re on your own kid / bejewled

[dearesthea]

I. Lovely Dearest Self

The Coveted Paragon of Ubiquitous Enchantment ♡

In a realm brimming with myriad souls, there exists an alluring luminary known as Dorothea—a captivating embodiment of rarefied charm that elicits an insatiable yearning in those who behold her. Her visage, resplendent with ethereal allure, casts a beguiling spell upon all who dare to gaze upon her. Dorothea, an enigmatic paragon of captivating grace, possesses a magnetism that transcends the ordinary, leaving an indelible impression upon the hearts of admirers. With an effortless finesse, she adeptly navigates the intricacies of social interactions, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of connections that others can only dream of. However, amidst her gregarious nature, she adroitly upholds a sacred sanctum—a veritable bastion safeguarding her innermost self from prying eyes. Her ability to balance conviviality and enigmatic allure imparts upon her a palpable mystique—a paradoxical enchanter whose beguiling essence seduces all who seek to unravel her captivating enigma. Embark upon an extraordinary odyssey into the enchanting world of Dorothea, where each encounter reveals a scintillating facet of her ubiquitously coveted existence, and where the opulence of her being transcends the boundaries of mere mortals. With a heart that thrives on social connections, she effortlessly navigates the art of forging friendships like a seasoned maestro. Dorothea, the embodiment of elegance and grace, delights in captivating conversations and creating memories that dance on the tapestry of her life. Yet, beneath her effervescent exterior lies a captivating mystery—an enigmatic allure that keeps her closest boundaries safeguarded. Like a gatekeeper to her inner world, she carefully selects those who gain access to the treasure trove of her true self. Prepare to be mesmerized by the beguiling dichotomy of Dorothea—the vivacious socialite who craves connection, juxtaposed with the enigmatic soul who protects her innermost sanctums.

II. Dulcet Serenade

weaves a tapestry of rarefied emotions that resonate within the depths of your being

The heart finds solace and inspiration in the mesmerizing melodies and heartfelt lyrics of Taylor Swift. As she immerses herself in the music, a profound connection is forged—a harmonious bond that adds an extra layer of enchantment to her captivating persona. Beloved Blondie's songs elevating her emotions and fueling her dreams.

Sincerely,

Dorothea Anne Valentine.

[cupidobash]

The night is still young, and the party is in full swing. The beautifully decorated grounds are alive with energy—friends are scattered across the area, dancing joyfully and singing their hearts out, the air filled with laughter and music.

Off to one side, you spot a handful of people hard at work, hauling large sacks of flour and sugar to carefully arranged, sectioned-off tables. Some carry armfuls of vibrant, colorful ingredients—sprinkles, frosting, and various toppings—and other supplies, preparing for whatever is about to unfold.

Hmm?

"I see you've noticed our next game being set up!" That airy voice comes from one certain hostess, who steps out from behind you with a giggle. "I'm told I'm not so skilled in the kitchen, but rest assured, I make up for it with other talents."

On cue, you and the others hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling and the clanging of something heavy being carried—something that looks suspiciously like a stage light. Puzzled, you glance at Dorothea, and in response, she flashes you a winning grin.

"I know how to put on a show." The songstress declares boldly. "And by the end of this, so will you!"

Whatever could she mean?

There's only one way to find out as she sorts you all into groups and ushers everyone off to their respective corners.

"Remember to give it your all!"

MADE WITH LOVE ♡ IS NOW UNDERWAY!

Team assignments + rules will roll out shortly

[zsterofficial]

i’m currently obsessed with Rachel Dorothea Knight (a.k.a BANSHEE), meaning i think her music is beautiful; her meaningful and rage-filled lyrics and original nu metal genre she has coined as “sirencore” are very creative and so is her whole Greek mythology inspired aesthetic. i think that she is very talented and as a singer myself, i acknowledge her talent and that maintaining her vocal range must take a lot of effort. Unfortunately, though, she has replied and agreed with some pro-Israeli and Zionist posts on Threads which is very difficult to ignore bc that’s all she seems to post on there. i am proudly pro-Palestine and have been trying to use my platform to call out people, especially other artists, who are pro-genocide. However, and this is not an excuse for seemingly sweeping the genocide of Palestinian people under the rug, from what i can see Rachel’s stance is not of outwardly hating Palestinian people but of defending who she believes to have been victims of SA and since she herself is a Jewish SA victim, i can understand why she would be quick to accept the Israeli propaganda if she thought she was protecting innocent Jewish women. i’m sure she’ll come around eventually as her heart seems to be in the right place, but i’ll have u know that i do not support the way she is currently going about it in any way, shape or form.

i’m just apologising in advance for when i eventually cover (or lipsync to) one of her songs and get my comments flooded with messages saying that she’s a zionist. i understand where y’all are coming from and if i still get comments like that i will still respond to them and take it as a sign that my content has reached the right audiences and be grateful for that ♡︎

[boyfhee]

i woke up, went on tumblr.com like one does, and the first thing i see is “to you, with love” reblogged for me. 

so i closed the app. screamed a bit into a pillow. and came back to write this.

THE THING IS.. i read that work, im pretty sure i even left an ask but it was more shy, timid (?)in a sense - “thank u, this was beautiful ,i cried.”cuz i was overwhelmed lol <- the lol is to make is seem more causal as if my heart didnt feel like it was punched ^^

but i remember vividly going through heeseung hashtag and seeing this for the first time.. and the title was cute, i was like “oh fluff”. i had not read the genre or warnings notes before diving into it….

so u can imagine my reaction to this sentence…

“however, heeseung’s death changed that for you.” BTW  ofc the best time to read angst its dead into the night with taylor swift playing on my headphones :>

if i remember correctly, you deleted it (?) and then posted it again? i read it the very first time it was uploaded. this might have been a changing point cuz i didn't read angst.. not in it full potential like that before this and know im knees deep 

i finished reading it. and time kinda froze. the concept of hearing the voice of the love of your life. when things were good, were fine. i wept. BUT hearing them talk about what future could hold for both of u? knowing what u know now? literally curled with my phone in my hand and bawled my eyes out

promises… the forever heartbreaking factor of life.. what are they? meant to be broken or kept.. maybe neither.. i hate them… they give false hope for those who long and yearn to be reassure and make u believe that a single person could hold such a power over the universe… well, heeseung certainly couldn't.. no matter how genuinely his heart was beating while he said “forever”

wow, im in my feels again, i just loved it, truly loved it and cherished it for so long, in my own little world with spiraling thoughts about this, 

thank u thank u thank u  thank u!!!!!!!!!!! ur works mean the world to me

im sorry for making u sad with my ask, but i cant help it :] u made me feel too much !!!!!!!!!!

i loved the poem. the flashbacks from the fic hit me like a truck. whats ur favorite poem? ^^ i would love to read some if u have a recommendation

thanks for the little career stuff note, i appreciate it a lot truly

thank u in general, ure the coolest writer,  love u too 

ps. hee angst ?? i might die tho

                                               - > swift anonie ♡♡♡

ANON MAY I INTEREST YOU IN ANOTHER THOUGHT I HAD . about 'to you, my love' being set after 'if lovesick was a person' 😁😁 IT FITS SO WELL im so devastated actually . and that's why they tell u to read the warnings but who am i to say bc i straight up jump to the content ( i like surprises ) also i didn't delete it, my brother deleted my whole acc before i remade under the same user and reposted it 😭 oh but im so honoured that was the beginning of your angst reading arc, you should not be missing out on such a genre

and ur thoughts on promises, umm i can't say you're all wrong but i think they can serve as a driving force to do something? like some sort of motivation, or a reason idk . obvs, not saying that empty promises should be made. actually i dont have any opinion here, head empty. please never apologise for sending sad asks or wtv, i enjoy reading ur thought processes ure really really cool 🫵💗 as for poem recs hmm; i wandered lonely as a cloud by willian wordsworth, cadabianca by felicia dorothea hemans, la belle dame sams merci by john keats, rain before dawn, on a play twice seen and marching streets by fitzgerlad ( anything by him and emily dickinson is worth reading ) that's all i have on the top of my head

and no, thank u for taking ur time to write these asks, you're even cooler than me fr ☝️

[fromslumber]

you, my greatest weakness (ao3) dorothea challenges her weakness in flying. written for the prompt: hold. happy femslash february ♡

Swallowing hard around the lump in her throat and smoothing down the legs of her borrowed breeches, Dorothea tries to will herself into a sense of comfort. The strength of Dorothea's will is not to be taken lightly, and she has donned far more difficult masks than this — but her nerves must be apparent nonetheless. Ingrid has twisted around to face her, concern clearly spelled across her always-honest face.

"You can hold onto me, if it helps," Ingrid says. Dorothea manages nothing more than a slight, strained giggle before Ingrid's hands find hers, pulling them to rest upon Ingrid's thin waist. "I swear I won't let you fall."

They haven't even left the ground. The pegasus shifts beneath them. Dorothea is acutely aware of its heavy exhale — both the sound, and the way its body heaves with the motion. Perhaps it is impatient to get a move on; she doubts Ingrid has ever taken so long to take off once mounted. Frankly, it makes Dorothea feel all the more pathetic.

Ingrid is still looking at her, though. Waiting for a response, Dorothea realizes, or some sort of assurance that she isn't going to pass out and go catapulting to the ground as soon as Ingrid leads the pegasus into flight. Belatedly, Dorothea also realizes her strained smile has slipped. She forces it back onto her face, hopes it seems more convincing than before.

"Of course you won't." Dorothea gives Ingrid's waist a small squeeze. Ingrid's eyes flick down to her hands, the cutest little blush blooming upon her pale cheeks, before lifting back to meet Dorothea's own. Swallowing again, Dorothea continues, "I'm simply..."

"We don't have to do this."

Dorothea quickly shakes her head. Sweet, sweet Ingrid, looking to give her a way out. But — "No, I still want to." 

Her grip on Ingrid tightens, less teasing, more purposeful. She closes her eyes and thinks: of glancing skyward from the monastery gardens, taking in the glorious spread of a pegasus's wings against the sun; of a long, blonde braid whipping in the wind, so much like a knight's banner; of Ingrid when she returns from her assigned group tasks, hair windswept and eyes bright. She thinks, not for the first time, of what Ingrid must look like in flight, up close, and wants that image for herself. Desperately.

"I still want to," she says again. 

She opens her eyes to find Ingrid's brow furrowed further still. Both concern and disbelief are spelled across her face in equal measure. Dorothea inches closer, slipping her hands from beneath Ingrid's to loop her arms around her waist proper, hooking her chin over Ingrid's shoulder. In most circumstances, Ingrid would go a little rigid in her grasp. Perhaps, through all the places they are touching, Dorothea would be able to feel the quickened pitter patter of Ingrid's heart. 

Here, Ingrid just continues to look down at her from the corner of her eye. Perhaps she can feel Dorothea's own rabbit heartbeat. The pegasus heaves another giant sigh, and Ingrid brings her hands back to the reins rather than keeping them hovering uselessly about Dorothea's arms.

"I won't let you fall," she repeats, voice firm. "But if I think you can't take anymore, I'm bringing us right back down."

No matter what you say, goes unspoken. Dorothea makes a small, assenting hum.

Dorothea is no expert in horses or pegasi or flying, and her head is too clouded by her lingering anxiety to pay much attention to the details of their takeoff, besides. What she does notice is this: the great lurch of their movement (and with it, a lurch in her stomach), and the first, fierce beat of the pegasus's wings. Her arms lock tighter around Ingrid's waist. She likely shrieks, too, but it is drowned out by the rush of wind in her ears, cut off by wind in her mouth. 

If either of these things trouble Ingrid, Dorothea has no way of knowing. She is steel in Dorothea's grasp, firm and steady, moving only to lean into the pegasus's own movement. No, not steel, Dorothea realizes a beat later, the ease of Ingrid's shift striking her; Ingrid is an extension of the pegasus itself. She belongs in the wind and sky as much as the beast they ride on. 

This realization grows ever clearer as their steed banks, then smooths into a glide. Dorothea's stomach is still a roiling pit of nerves, the lack of ground beneath her feet still unsettling her, but — this is better than the adrenaline of soaring upwards.

Dorothea eases her eyes open. (She hardly even realized that she had snapped them closed.)

"Oh, Ingrid," she breathes.

She can't find the words to say anything else.

Beneath them is a beautiful, sprawling plethora of vivid greens. Unlike dear Hubie, it isn't a fear of heights Dorothea struggles with — so she drinks in the view, commits it to memory. The trees, the rivers. The birds, flitting by below. Dorothea is not sure she will ever see them this way again.

When her gaze lifts, though — no scenery can compare to Ingrid.

There is a glow about her. Bits of feathers are caught in her hair. The wind whips a ruddy flush upon her cheeks. She is... Oh, she is Ingrid.

Ingrid, the knight that hoisted Dorothea onto her steed. Ingrid, a part of the sky itself. Ingrid, Dorothea's friend. Gallant, adorable, and oh so so painfully charming Ingrid.

Ingrid's head turns, and for the first time since they've taken flight, Dorothea's gaze meets hers. Dorothea has straightened enough that this causes their noses to brush; the Ingrid she rides with does not jerk back at the contact the way the ordinary Ingrid might. Over the wind, Ingrid asks, "Are you doing alright?"

Better than alright. Dorothea can make out every darker fleck in Ingrid's bright eyes. Her tongue is too heavy to express the way her heart soars.

Instead, simply, she says, "Yes."