#it's always about Dorothea

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

ok, once more I realize that my own kindness and friendliness has been taken for implied consent, and as always, the troubles that are brewing now are connected to OCs.

So let me be clear and frank one more time, one last time, because I have NO INTENTION of going through what I went through in 2021.

While I am always immensely happy that my Original Characters are enjoyed and that they can serve as source of inspiration, they are NOT however a template for anyone to base their OCs on.

They are not something that you can take in their entirety, change whatever suits you, and then call it your own.

It doesn't work like that, especially because, and allow me to reiterate this once and for all, OCs are *immensely* personal.

They are an extention of the soul of the person that creates them.

So taking whatever suits your fancy and use it for the "aesthetic" or the "vibes" is immensely disrespectful and, dare I say, rather impertinent, especially when both characters happen to belong to the same fandom.

Now, I am not talking about certain tropes and subjects that are typical of certain genre, of course not.

We are all somehow reinveting something that's already there when we work with OCs and stories.

What I am talking about is taking certain specific idiosyncrasies that make a certain character unique, change them to suit your character, and then being SO IMPERTINENT to just call it your own and parading it around without even having the courtesy to quote the person that has inspired you, taking advantage of the fact that I am just a small creator with a small following.

This is a huge No No for me.

Huge.

I appreciate that other creators might have a different opinion or perspective when it comes to OCs, and while I do not share entirely in that, I sure as hell respect it.

But allow me to be crystal clear: if this happens to me, like it had in 2021, that's the *easiest* way to lose all respect I might harbour for you, and I seldomly get mad or angry.

I am always accomodating, always supportive, and I think I have proven it aplenty in the past few years.

But this is something that I cannot condone nor agree with.

And it's not just a matter of ethic, in this sense: it's a matter of also hurting me, and literally put my whole creative process into shamble.

It's a matter of having respect of others.

Now, you might say: who cares if they hurt you? they are characters that do not exist, just move on and have thicker skin!

Well, as I said above, for when it concerns myself, my OCs are an extention of my own soul, a way for me to formulate and explain feelings that sometimes I have a hard time let out; a way for me to actually face, fragmentize and analyze my own trauma through them;

and most important of all, they are OFTEN a love letter to both the world I am exploring with them AND my own husband and child, such as in the case of Jacob and Dorothea,for whom, as I said often in the past 5 years, I have poured A LOT from myself and my husband's own story.

You could say that it probably my fault for having bared my feelings so much and poured so much of myself into a character;

And you might be correct, because I have learned my lesson, and ever since Dorothea and Jacob, no other character has been infused with as much of my own being as they were.

but that doesn't mean that it stings any less when I see it unravels in front of my eyes.

I am tired.

[edelgards]

there are just so many ways to say "i love you"

[merp-blerp]

I don't know if anyone else has theorized this or if it holds any water, but I can't help but get a Kaylor vibe from "Enchanted" sometimes. I mean the timeline could match up, they met in 2008, and "Enchanted" is about "the very first page"... 🙃🤡

[vosquitransitis]

the only thing problematic about the toxic wlw stuff in dragon age is that there is not nearly enough of it amen

[kalkydra]

i love playing Gender Math with characters it's very fun but i think a lot of the like trans headcanons people have are less Having Done Gender Math and more... Doing Gender Astrology

[sieglinde-freud]

havent gone this insane over a demote unit since inigo but i love her so much i killed like five people for her

and she got flowers!!! perhaps suboptimal but theyre so pretty (i dont have arcane euphoria) … she deserves a bouquet… my wife…

[sophisticatedswifts]

I just saw a sign for Tupelo

[anneapocalypse]

#the whole way that dai dealt with the previous heroes was so......................#like the only reason they should want hawke is to put them on trial#and there's no reason cassandra pentaghast should care about the hero of ferelden at ALL except as leliana's girlfriend#the blight was ONE YEAR and it didn't leave ferelden people in thedas at large should not venerate the hof many shouldn't even know of them#like the inquisition is a religious organization meant to mediate between mages and templars can we please think strategically#why the fuck would you want the hof or hawke for any of that except that you need to pander to video game fans#who want to believe their pc is special#maybe we should have to reckon with the impending death of our first protagonist as the game timeline advances#maybe it's worth it to know that being a hero won't save you (@apostacism)

There's something to be said about fandom's romanticization of the wardens that I think is not quite true to what the wardens actually are. The wardens aren't freedom or a chance to start over or community when you've lacked it (and characters who are shown to imbue the wardens with this are regularly disappointed by it), the wardens are an independent quasi military organization leading short, brutal lives in pursuit of a seemingly impossible task. Bethany is not being unreasonable by her anger and disappointment at her joining - being a warden is a trap, it is a one-way street, it closes at least as many doors as it opens, if not more, and it promises only death as a reward.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Dear Nemo, so nice to see you back! for the meme game, can you make one for Jacob and Dottie as a ship? I miss seeing them on my dash.

Hello Hello Duckling! So nice to see you in my inbox! I was so happy to see your ask! (and sorry for taking so long in answering! I appreciate your patience! I hope you don't mind but I took the chance to make this meme for Jacob and Dottie a bit farther ahead in their story than what I usually draw/write.)

✨JOTTIE (JacobxDorothea)🎩

MOODBOARD

PLAYLIST:

"Temple of Thought" - Poets of The Fall

"Amaranthine" - Amaranthe

"My Love Will Never Die" - Claire Wyndham

"Dancing on Broken Glass" - Poets of The Fall

"Jealous Gods" - Poets of The Fall

"War" - Poets of the Fall

QUOTES

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.”

― Alfred Tennyson

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone”

― J. R. R. Tolkien

“You make me thank god for every mistake I ever made, Because each one led me down the path that brought me to you.” ― Pablo Neruda

“I choose to love you in silence… For in silence I find no rejection, I choose to love you in loneliness… For in loneliness no one owns you but me, I choose to adore you from a distance… For distance will shield me from pain, I choose to kiss you in the wind… For the wind is gentler than my lips, I choose to hold you in my dreams… For in my dreams, you have no end.” ― Rumi

THEIR AESTHETIC:

A walk along the Thames in the dead of the night with the stars as their companions and protectors; an impromptu dance on cobblestone and the beating of their hearts as the sole music that gives them rhythm; a sweet song he hums with his low voice; a glance that alone speaks of years spent together, of hardship fought and conquered, of peace finally found; low laughter shared at a memory of the family they created; a morning spent in bed, cuddling and laughing together; the perfume of orange blossom and smoked pipe; a stack of letters neatly preserved if a little worn out for all the times they had been read; a violin playing and a voice singing the song of their hearts, just for his ears alone; warm tea sipped together in front of the fireplace; a soft blanket shared together; falling asleep on a worn-out sofa in each other's arms, the only place where they feel safe enough to let go of all worries; hearing the beating of his heart, strong and steady, just as he is; hearing her breathing while asleep, safe and sound in his arms.

[ceruleanblueshells]

Dorothea hits different after you lose your best friend

[potatoesandsunshine]

hello I am now so curious about the da:i fic you just mentioned if you wish to share which one it is 👀

YES it was Enemies to Lovers by Caramelized, it's so good it really just... caught me by the ankle and pulled me under. i go through phases with da:i where i go back and forth between liking it and not liking it but this fic is like.... gold to me. completely validates all of my 'there's no way they would ever let the person with the anchor go, right?' instincts.

[ccgg112]

The people arguing that the caption was offensive shouldn't be allowed to read fanfiction. Their argument is that it's offensive to stray from Taylor's intended message while disregarding the fact that:

We actually don't know what Taylor's intended message was! Contrary to popular belief, Taylor has never explicitly stated what the meaning of Guilty as Sin is. All our interpretations are SOLEY based on speculation and analysis.

EVEN if Taylor's intended message in guilty as sin was "straight," it is STILL okay to have a different takeaway from what the author intended. You can disagree with how an author executed their work. This is the point of analysis. This is why death of the author exists.

This is also why fanfiction exists! When people dislike how something was done in canon, they make changes to the story with fanfiction or head canons... which is perfectly okay to do.

By hetlor logic, fanfiction is offensive because it strays from the original message of the author/creator.

Is it offensive to say "Zutara is should have been canon" because it went against Mike and Bryan's vision of ALTA? Is it offensive to say "Belly should have ended up with Jeremiah" because Jenny Hahn ended the books with her being with Conrad?

You can disagree with these interpretations, but they aren't offensive just because they go against the author's original intent. There's plenty of contextual evidence to argue for why a story might have been stronger if it played out differently.

But let's be so for real, that's not the real reason hetlors are upset. They just want to jump on any reason to hate on gaylors and show their blatant homophobia.

In other news, the Twitter wars are on again. I’ll give you guys the BLUF:

-Some female artist covered guilty as sin and changed the pronouns to she/her

-She posted it (beautiful cover) and said “this is how it should’ve been written” (in her opinion)

-Folks went crazy because apparently the gays are trying to ERASE STRAIGHT PEOPLE!

-“Hope this helps!”

*jumps off of very tall somethings*

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[dresshistorynerd]

Historically Accurate Snow White, vol 2

I redid the first entry to my series of "Historically Accurate" Disney Princesses. I like to think I've learned a bit more of both art and historical fashion in the last 5 years since I made the original 7 entries to this series, so I'm a bit critical of those original versions (some more than others). What really made me want to continue this series after all these years was actually watching a video on the new Snow White movie, hating Snow White's costume, thinking once again about historical costume for Snow White and realising there is actually better fitting historical style for her than what I went with in my original redesign.

The setting of the 1937 film is pretty odd. Most characters are dressed much more Medieval-y, in vaguely 15th century style, but with the slashed sleeves and pointed waistline Snow White is definitely Renaissance. I'm choosing 16th century since it's Snow White I'm redesigning. The known versions of the fairy tail are German and the setting of the movie fits well to Central Europe, so I choose Germany as the location.

In my first design I went with a 1530-1550s Lower Germany style mainly because that's what I knew of German Renaissance fashion and it got the right kind of sleeves and sort of the right kind of collar. But now that I know more I think a bit later styles from roughly 1570s fits her better. The bodice in the original design has the elements of the latter half of 16th century - pointed waistline, hidden front opening and square neckline. The short sleeves fit pretty well too since it was popular to have contrasting fitted sleeves with the paned puffed sleeves on the shoulders. Here's some examples. First is Portrait of Anna Maria Kain by The Younger Hans Schöpfer from 1571. Second is Portrait of Dorothea Ursula von Baden-Durlach by Eberhard von Backe from 1577.

The only element that doesn't really fit is the collar. It was common in the period, but not in Germany. In Germany the style in later 1500s was very stiff and closed off, so the partlet was always closed with stiff ruffs and covered the neck. Here's first an example of the similar open partlet as Snow White is wearing from 1578-1579 Netherlands and then from 1590s Venice. So I rather went with the closed partlet with ruffs that was much more typical in Germany.

[fortunate-cookie]

Advisors on both sides

Danny Phantom, new (begrudging) king of the Infinite Realms, has many advisors -- some friendly, and some... less so. But he's professional enough to realize that he can't only listen to friends; he needs experts, even if they suck.

So he meets with all of the council equally -- everyone from Lady Dorothea, who has always been a perfect host, to Alpha Adawulf, whose eating habits nauseate Danny regularly. From Chief Frostbite, the pacifist scholar, to Warden Walker, the fascist cop who still wants to arrest Danny for existing.

Actually, a lot of his "advisors" would rather fight him than help him, but by this point most of them have figured out that he'll win, so they don't bother trying anymore. As for the ones who do still attack him... well, they've been dead for longer than Danny's been alive, so he still has to bother with them, unfortunately.

He may not have chosen to become the High King of the Infinite Realms, but damn if he won't at least do the bare minimum by acknowledging someone else's expertise.

Speaking of experts, he needs help with the GIW, and all of his current advisors suggest a somewhat... slash and burn approach to the situation. Understandable, considering they don't have to live on Earth, but Danny is a Halfa and quite likes not being a wanted terrorist, so they're in different positions, he supposes.

It's as he's complaining to Clockwork that this gets pointed out to him: he is in a different position from all his subjects. He's not a ghost, he's a Halfa. Should a Halfa king not have both dead and living advisors?

Not to mention that Clockwork is conveniently aware of a still-living human who has quite a lot of experience in toppling violent military organizations without causing anarchy for the host country. More importantly, he knows how to do it without getting caught.

Danny is on the fence about this whole "taking advice from a terrorist" idea until Clockwork mentions that this person is actually a hero, and a rather well-regarded one as well. Surely, Danny can at least give him the benefit of the doubt, in regards to his morality?

Just meet with him, Danny, and surely you can ascertain his motives for yourself. Just get to know him, at least.

So Danny Fenton heads to Gotham, to ask Red Robin if he'd be willing to have an interview with the Ghost King about what exactly happened in Nanda Parbat.

[priintaniere]

"Sylvain Gautier and Dorothea Arnault stun on the red carpet for the #FromFaerghusWithLove screening at 75th Enbarr film festival"

or simply, an actor/bodyguard AU

more notes on this AU under the read more

※ please do not repost my art ※   ➜ commission and ko-fi links in bio

this AU really started as just me toying with the idea of actor sylvain with his protective bodyguard felix then wanting to put dorothea and sylvain in fancy clothes but the more i thought about it, the more ideas i had dshhjs

SO expending this with more characters cuz it's fun!

sylvain: actor, model, former child actor dorothea: actress, model, singer, former opera singer lorenz: stage actor claude: writes stage plays for lorenz in his free time ferdinand: stage actor, making his debut in cinema annette: pop singer hilda: pop singer, model yuri: model, singer, former boys band member bernadetta: successful romance writer, debuting as a script writer encouraged and helped by sylvain

dorothea and sylvain have played romantic partners in many movies together and have very good chemistry on camera and during interviews, leading to lot of speculations of them dating

sylvain has the reputation of dating all his co-stars

felix started to wear a mask bc he saw that he was nicknamed "sylvain gautier's hot bodyguard" online and he hated it but now people only finds him hotter and more mysterious with the mask

OF COURSE there are rumors that sylvain and dorothea are dating or at least, have smth romantic (or sexual…??? 👀) going on with their bodyguards (literally the whole point of the au)

ferdinand, sylvain, lorenz and claude attended the same school (think, fodlan's equivalent of juilliard) and used to do stage plays together

ferdinand recently made his debut on screen while lorenz stayed in theater only because he prefers it here, claude's job is totally unrelated to acting or theater but he still writes and arranges stage plays for lorenz in his free time (mostly shakespearean plays)

sylvain has always liked theater and his parents encouraged and supported him when he was noticed by an agent at a very young age to be cast into a movie. he enjoyed it a lot at first but slowly lose his passion but stayed to please his parents (and there may have been parental pressure)

when he turned 19 and his contract was broken, he decided to quit acting to focus on his studies. he later returned 5 years after on his own terms

dorothea had a brief career as an opera singer but found out that she enjoyed doing musicals more

she debuted on screen with a musical and has slowly been branching out, first in romcoms or as the male lead's love interest in action movies but she has since taken more atypical roles for indie movies

felix, ingrid, sylvain are childhood friends, with ingrid initially being sylvain's bodyguard

ingrid became sylvain's bodyguard because she was worried about him and that way, she could always keep an eye on him

when dorothea rose to fame and was thinking of hiring a female bodyguard, sylvain recommended ingrid to her

ingrid then asked felix to replace her as sylvain's bodyguard