#molde infantil

[costurafacilparainiciantes]

Costura Infantil Passo a Passo: Lindos Vestidos para Crianças

Descubra como criar vestidos encantadores para as crianças com este guia de costura passo a passo.

Desde escolher os tecidos até os detalhes finais, explore dicas e truques para confeccionar peças únicas e cheias de estilo. Transforme a moda infantil com suas próprias mãos!”

Neste artigo, mergulharemos no mundo da costura infantil, desvendando os segredos para confeccionar vestidos adoráveis para as pequenas fashionistas.

Acompanhe o passo a passo, aprenda sobre os melhores materiais e solte sua criatividade na confecção de peças exclusivas.

[carlyraejepsans]

not only do i not think lynne would ever under any circumstances call or even just think of cabanela as her dad, if that possibility ever came up in conversation i think cabanela would straight up kill himself

[freakinator]

i usually avoid looking at kabs chat cause ngl i dont like it lol but i decided to engage just for today cause why not but good god theyre just as ableist as kab is

[moldmutt]

i am NOT a cute lil puppy i do NOT go 'uwu' and i am NOT a smol bean i am a PUBLIC SAFETY RISK that gets ANIMAL SERVICES CALLED ON IT and then i get PUT DOWN. that's the type of dog i am

[vestidosbasicos]

Moldes de Crochê para Vestidos: Crie Peças Exclusivas com Estilo

Vestidos de crochê são a combinação perfeita entre elegância e artesanato. Criar sua própria peça não apenas oferece a oportunidade de personalizar o estilo, mas também valoriza o trabalho manual, tornando cada vestido único e especial. Se você é apaixonada por moda artesanal ou quer se aventurar no universo do crochê, este artigo é para você. Vamos explorar os benefícios de criar vestidos de…

[pineconepie]

I DONT CARE WHAT YOUR CREATIVE BRAIN WHIPS JUST PLEASE GIVE ME A FEM YANNNN (love your work btw)

Hehe tysm!! I hope this is good!! <3 I made parental yandere ghost!!

TW: Kidnapping, parental yandere, infantilization

...

When you got a shady ad of a mansion for the same price of a tiny home, you figured it'd be covered with mold and falling apart. The ad didn't give much information, other than it had several acres, and three stories tall.

You wondered why someone would sell such a building for such a cheap price, but given your budget, might as well check it out.

And oh boy were you shocked at what you found.

A beautiful mansion, not a single sign of mold or decay in sight, other than a tiny bit of dust here and there. It's as if no one lived in it for quite some time, yet it was taken care of.

Three bedrooms, all fully furnished. Three bathrooms, also fully furnished. A kitchen that you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams. A living room. An attic, a basement, a garage. All of them with furniture inside. Several acres of land, as it had advertised.

"Is it to your liking?"

You whip around to see a woman with short black hair, brown eyes, wearing a dress shirt and tie with a long black skirt. She looks to be in her early to mid forties.

You're pretty sure she wasn't there before. Perhaps she came in silently and didn't mean to scare you like that.

"Yes. Yes! Of course! Is this seriously all for such a cheap price?" you ask, completely confused. Something isn't adding up here. There has to be some kind of catch, surely.

Her smile unnerves you just slightly, its a little too wide. She makes a cooing noise in the back of her throat, but snaps out of it quickly.

"The reason it's so cheap is because there's not that many people interested in living out here in the middle of nowhere. It's incredibly hard for us to get this off our hands."

You don't believe that's the only reason, but you decide not to question it. "And you're the realtor, right? Blair Watts?"

"That would be me!" she says cheerfully, although there's an edge to it that you can't place.

It doesn't matter anyway. This is the house for you. "So... where do I sign?"

Blair gestures to a paper and pen on the nearby table. You read over them.

Something about this house seems wrong. You should've listened to that feeling. But you sign the papers and hand them back to Blair, who takes it.

She smiles down at you, although her expression is a mix between condescension and what you think is relief.

"Welcome home," she croons. "If you need anything, feel free to contact me."

"Thank you!" you say, maybe a tad bit too quickly. But who cares! A mansion for such a cheap price! You're about to ask another question relating to the home, but in just one blink, she's gone. No trace she was ever there at all.

A chill goes down your spine. This woman is absolutely strange, although she didn't seem harmful in any way. Not in the physical sense, at least.

...

You move all your things with relative ease into your new home. It's not much to fill the space of a mansion, so you still have several empty rooms left. The furniture that's already there looks far too expensive and nice to get rid of or replace, so you decide to keep everything as is.

It could definitely use a makeover, if you have that kind of money anytime soon, but it isn't your top priority for now.

When you enter the room with your own things to decorate as your own bedroom, you notice it looks different than how you remember.

The walls are painted pastel, there's toys littering the floor, and even the bed has a cartoon-themed comforter spread over it. You glance behind you and see that nothing else looks out of place.

So weird. Maybe you just forgot which room you liked best, and didn't see this one earlier?

You back up, only to bump into someone. You drop all the boxes in your hands, and spin around with wide eyes. There stands Blair, a concerned smile on her face.

"Oh, what's wrong, honey?" Blair asks, her voice sounding like a parent trying to speak gently to their upset child.

Her arms wrap around your body. You freeze as she slowly rocks you both back and forth. Her touch feels cold yet not as solid as most normal touches are. As if it were... ghostly.

"Uh- yeah, I'm alright! Just... just lost my balance for a second there! But hey, when did you get here?" More importantly, why is she here?

She keeps rocking with you in her arms. "I never left." With a chuckle she finally lets you go. "That room is my favorite in the whole mansion. Isn't it lovely?"

You nod without thinking. You start gathering your dropped belongings as quickly as possible, and stand back up. When you look at Blair again, something really doesn't feel right. Her presence is uncanny, yet you can't really pinpoint why.

There's a slight haze that comes off her outline, almost like she's blurry around the edges. Like a bad photoshop edit on the image of reality.

"Yeah. Lovely," you mutter. "I swore it was different last time."

"Oh." Her smile softens. "I tried to decorate it to your personality."

"But it's not..." You shake your head. "Why? I don't understand what's going on..."

"My child deserves the best, after all." She makes that cooing noise again, which sends another chill down your spine. "How about we unpack?" You're in too much shock to argue when she kneels down to pull things out of your moving boxes.

"Hey, that's not--"

"Hush, dear. Mama needs a moment."

A long beat passes. "...What? Mama?"

Blair sets almost everything into a large pile--things like your electronics, books, paperwork, and other adult essentials. In fact, anything adult seems to have been set aside.

The only things left from the box is your stuffed animals and blankets.

Then she glances back up at you. "You can call me Mommy too, if you'd like. Anything but 'Mother'. Makes me feel old." Her voice gets distant. "I always wanted a little baby to raise as my own... that's why the price was so low! To encourage someone like you to buy this home. I could tell you would need me right away. I mean, look at you!" She gestures to your clothing and messy appearance.

You're too confused to even get offended. "Someone... like me? Aren't you the realtor? What's going on?"

She sighs. "No. Not technically. But this is all too complicated talk for you, silly. Grown-up talk will just overwhelm you."

"But..." You flinch when her smile fades just slightly. "Look... I don't know what's going on, but I think I wanna back out of this..."

"No. No, no, no. We can't do that."

"Well I just--"

"You just want attention," she scoffs. "Don't worry. You'll get plenty of it from Mama." She effortlessly picks you up, much to your shock. Is this a real person, or are you just losing it? "Now, how about some dinner, hm? I have many bottles and sippy cups already prepared for you, and more items for you on the way!" She peppers the side of your face in kisses.

They still feel cold, almost like ice. "Blair, please put me down! This has gone far enough!"

"If that's what you want..." She releases you, and you land with a hard thud onto the floor. You wince at the impact and lay there, taking a minute to process this interaction. She has the audacity to gasp in shock. "Oh goodness! Are you alright? Oh, my poor baby!"

You're too speechless to answer, and before you know it, she picks you up again. If you didn't know any better, you'd say this woman was legitimately worried over you.

For the rest of dinner, you tune out her words, in too much shock and confusion over your situation.

She gives you some sliced fruits and finger foods to eat, as well as a sippy cup filled with juice. You keep pushing the items away, but every time you do, she simply pushes them right back. Finally giving up, you eat, wondering when you can escape her and figure this place out yourself.

At the end of the meal, you push away the empty plates.

"Are you finished?" she asks in such a gentle tone, you nearly forget how scary she can be.

"Yes." Your voice sounds raspy and far-away. It makes sense, given what you've been through today.

"Very good!" she praises, pinching your cheeks as you sit frozen on the spot. She takes the dishes away and hums as she cleans up, her apron tied behind her back as she washes each plate by hand.

"...Blair."

"That's Mama," she corrects gently. "Try again. Here, I'll help you practice. Ma-ma. Can you say that?"

Your eye twitches. "Mama," you repeat emotionlessly. "I'm tired. Can I just go to bed?" Hopefully you can wake up from this nightmare.

"Yes, of course." She puts the wet dishes onto a drying rack to let them air dry. Her skirt swishes around her legs as she turns back to you. "Do you need my help changing into your jammies?"

"I'm not a child," you deadpan. "Let me just change clothes by myself and you go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"How rude!" Blair says, putting her hands on her hips. "I try so hard for you, and then you disrespect me like this? You really do need discipline. Do you really think you can do whatever you want in this house?"

You go quiet.

She tuts. "You go get dressed into your jammies, and I'll come up in a few minutes to tuck you in. Got that?"

With that command, she nudges you towards the stairs.

You trudge up, each step taking much more energy than it normally should.

As soon as you step into your bedroom, you shut the door behind you. It's not like this door has a lock or anything, but at least she can't watch you while you get ready.

After you change into the childish pajamas she put out for you and climb into bed, you bury yourself under the covers and pray this all blows over by tomorrow.

She comes in, and you try your hardest not to glare at her. Blair sees that your eyes are open anyway and beams.

"There's my perfect angel~" Her cooing voice does nothing but terrify you now. You stay silent and try to ignore her gaze. "Now, would you like a bedtime story? Or perhaps a lullaby?" You feel her presence as she sits down next to your blanket-covered form.

"How about you tell me what you are? Why are you doing this?" You don't sound angry or even scared anymore. Just tired and done with everything that happened so far today.

You suppose there must be an explanation to this.

She takes a deep breath. "...I'm not... human. I used to be, but not anymore."

You blink. "Are you a vampire?"

Blair chuckles. "No, sweet pea." She hesitates a bit more. "I'm... I suppose what people would call a ghost." She speaks her last word so softly you nearly miss it.

"...A ghost?" You sit up. "You're lying! If you were a ghost, why can you touch me and other objects?"

She tilts her head. "Hm? Oh! That's because we're in my home. Where I died. As long as I'm here, I can be seen and touch anything like you can. I can leave, but I can't really do anything. That's why I made that fake listing. I'm lonely, and I've always wanted a baby of my own. But I died before I ever got to experience that."

"...A ghost..."

The pieces fall into place. Her blurry outline, her strange appearance, her odd behavior. It makes more sense than one would expect.

You can almost see pity in her brown eyes as she brushes a loose strand of hair from your face. "But now that you're here, I have my very own little baby to take care of!" Blair practically squeals in excitement. "My life--or rather afterlife--is complete now that I have you. And as long as you stay, I will always love and take care of you."

So if what she says is right, then if you escape, there's no possibility she could make you come back, or even be visible to you.

Blair frowns. "I know what you're thinking. But please reconsider! You're already settled in, and I want you to have everything you could ever need. This doesn't need to be negative."

You narrow your eyes. "...okay."

She doesn't like your dry, one-worded response, but chooses not to push it. Instead, she stands up.

"Sleep tight, angel. Mama loves you. I promise to show you that, okay?" She kisses your forehead and flicks off the light, closing the door behind her.

You hear her lock it from outside the room with a key.

[feefivefoe]

I fear that they would figure me out too quickly. I am so easily manipulated by someone acting pathetic 😔😔

The whole little brother act by Damian would get to me sooner or later and I fear that although Tim is 19, I would feel bad if he came to me after a "nightmare" 😞😞

I just hope that they don't play dirty, because I would be COOKED 😭😭

No you're so valid. I too like to baby pathetic meow meows.

But in my head, reader has to be unempathetic and uncaring because you don't live long in a city like Gotham by being sympathetic.

Caring about people is for those who have the luxury of resources to share. Bleeding hearts get snuffed out. And while reader isn't clinging to life, they aren't going out of their way to get killed.

But unfortunately for folks like you, at least half of the batboys are willing to be pathetic if it means getting the upper hand.

Dick and Tim have no shame. Both of them will cry while clinging to you about just how WORRIED they were about you. And how SAD they are that you HATE them soooo much! Won't you give your dear brothers just a sliver of affection?

Dick will try to monopolize you at times by being physically clingy. The others are just so much more touch adverse, and his love language is physical touch! He's just so sad that he can't properly express how much he loves his siblings! Won't you let him give you the affection he had failed to give for so long? He has so much to make up for! 🥰🥰🥰

Tim is a little more adaptable. Rather than pushing you into the mold he makes, he molds himself to your sympathetic nature. Not only did he have a nightmare, but he just finds it so hard to sleep while he's thinking about all the bad things happening in Gotham...won't you let him sleep in your room? Being around his (now) favorite sibling helps keep his mind at rest! And he's so sleep deprived...don't you want your little brother to get some rest? 🥺🥺🥺

Damian and Jason are much more reluctant to join in. They have more pride than that. And while Jason might be willing if you were mad at him like you were the others...he's already your favorite, he doesn't need to stoop so low. If he does find your attention slipping, he might 'unintentionally' trauma dump about how his death felt, his final thoughts, how the pit makes him feel...inhuman. About how Bruce made him feel abandoned, just like he did to you. What better way to firmly strengthen his position than trauma bonding, right?

Damian takes the longest to come around. Sure, he's the baby. And sure, he kind of played into it by insisting on strengening your familial bond. But he isn't a child! (Damian, you literally are-)

While the others infantilize themselves in a way to get your favor, Damian does it by doing the opposite. Don't look at him as somebody who needs coddling! He's going to look after you, because you're the one who needs him, not the other way around. You live such a better life now that he found you and got the others to bring you home. He'd never admit it, but he's envious of the attention the others get, but isn't willing to throw away his pride to do the same. He does have an advantage by being the youngest. You can't help but naturally baby him a little! And the scowl and scolding he gives every time does nothing to deter you!

[maxdibert]

You always say that JKR's female characters have sexist characteristics, and I agree. Now I'm thinking, do the male characters have the same problem? I feel like we talk so much more about the female characters, because we analyse them from a feminist perspective. But are the male characters that much different?

When I think about a male character who gets portrayed in a sexist manner, of course Snape comes to mind. Because he doesn't have traditionally masculine traits, and often gets treated as too emotional or "hysterical", even in the moments he has every right to be angry. Do we have any other examples?

Ohhh my friend, you just pick my favorite topic: gender roles in fiction. This is gonna be so long that's because i didn't answered before. But what can I say? I love gender analysis. Well, the sexism in Harry Potter doesn't just harm or flatten its female characters, it also shapes the men in rigid, gendered ways. The narrative tells us what kinds of men deserve praise and which ones deserve ridicule or punishment, and those judgments often mirror traditional, patriarchal ideals of masculinity.

Severus is a prime example. He’s written with traits that are culturally coded as unmasculine: emotional intensity, awkwardness, deep attachment, and vulnerability. But instead of being treated with compassion or complexity, he’s portrayed as bitter, obsessive, even “pathetic.” His grief, rage, and isolation are often mocked or pathologized, rather than explored. The narrative treats his emotions as excesses, as if he should be more stoic, more composed—more “manly.” This isn’t just a character flaw—it’s a rejection of any masculinity that doesn’t align with dominance, physical bravery, or emotional control.

Neville, for example, also demonstrates how the story treats alternative masculinities. Early on, he’s timid, forgetful, and sensitive. These traits are framed as embarrassing until he becomes braver, more assertive, and physically courageous. In short, until he conforms to the warrior-hero mold. Only then does the narrative grant him respect. The same applies to Harry himself: when he expresses emotions —particularly grief or anger— he’s dismissed as “moody” or irrational. The story often limits him to being a brave, self-sacrificing leader, but gives him very little emotional support or space for vulnerability. There's no real model for healthy emotional masculinity in the series, only the expectation that boys must “man up” to be heroes.

Hagrid is another example: deeply nurturing, emotionally expressive, and connected to nature and animals, traits often associated with care work and maternal energy. But instead of being respected for those qualities, he’s infantilized and often used as comic relief. His gentle masculinity is never truly valued: is ridiculed.

Contrast this with how the narrative treats women: the only ones who are consistently admired or respected are those who adopt traditionally masculine (but specifically patriarchal) traits: McGonagall, Ginny (in the later books), Tonks (to a degree), and of course Hermione. These women are praised for being rational, assertive, clever, emotionally restrained, and good at traditionally male-coded skills like dueling or strategy. But when they express vulnerability or compassion —or engage in emotional labor— they’re often sidelined or seen as less effective. The narrative doesn't reward care or softness in women any more than it does in men. Feminine-coded traits —empathy, nurturing, emotional openness— are simply not respected in Rowling’s world, she doesn’t uplift a deconstructed, emotionally mature masculinity in either men or women, she simply maps the traditional masculine ideal onto certain female characters and punishes the rest. The politics of care, softness, emotional labor are consistently devalued in the narrative, regardless of who displays them.

And this binary logic extends even to the depiction of villains. Take Lucius Malfoy and Tom Riddle, for instance. Both are presented as elegant, refined, beautiful even, traits often associated with femininity. Tom is repeatedly described as “handsome,” charismatic, and physically graceful. Lucius is cold, vain, poised, and his long blond hair and pristine appearance mark him as almost effeminate. These aesthetic choices are not incidental: the text uses their "feminine" physicality and polished manners to underscore their moral corruption. Their deviation from rugged, physical masculinity becomes part of their danger. It reinforces the idea that ambiguity—especially gender ambiguity— is inherently threatening.

This is a very old trope: the villain whose femininity is a sign of deceit, vanity, and perversion. In contrast to the "good" masculinity of characters like Lupin, Sirius (though flawed), or even Dumbledore in certain contexts, Tom and Lucius are coded as deceptive, performative, and manipulative, traits historically attributed to women in patriarchal literature.

Rowling’s portrayal of masculinity in the serues isn’t just about punishing deviation from patriarchal norms. It’s also about celebrating and excusing those who most embody traditional, dominant masculinity, even when they behave in deeply harmful or morally hypocritical ways. Two of the clearest examples are Sirius Black and James Potter.

Sirius is a textbook case of this. The narrative goes out of its way to frame him as attractive, charismatic, rebellious, and brave, the quintessential "cool bad boy." He’s constantly described in a romanticized, even fetishized light: leather jackets, long hair, brooding stares, a tortured past. Rowling makes sure we know he was handsome as a teenager and still has that allure, despite everything. But beneath that carefully maintained image lies a deeply flawed, morally inconsistent man. He is impulsive, often cruel, emotionally stunted, and astonishingly reckless with Harry, treating him less like a child in his care and more like a replacement for his lost best friend.

Sirius clearly struggles with trauma and imprisonment, but the narrative infantilizes him to excuse his worst traits. His emotional immaturity, his inability to grow beyond the age he was when he was imprisoned, is framed as tragic rather than irresponsible. His deep resentment of his family background, while understandable, leads to abusive behavior, yet it's never really questioned or addressed. He taunts Kreacher, encourages Harry to take unnecessary risks, and repeatedly projects his unresolved issues onto others. And yet, instead of holding him accountable, the narrative bends over backward to present him as misunderstood, loyal, and ultimately noble. His hypermasculine traits—defiance, aggression, emotional repression—are romanticized, even when they make him a terrible role model and Rowling excuses him constantly because well, he's a man isn't him? Men are men after all.

James is similarly protected by the narrative. He's introduced, retrospectively, as a school bully: arrogant, cruel, and dismissive of others (especially Snape). In SWM makes this abundantly clear: he bullies Snape for no reason other than boredom and ego. But Rowling frames his redemption not through any internal change or reckoning, but through Lily. We’re told James "grew out of it" because Lily wouldn't date him otherwise. The implication is that the love or approval of a good woman is what transforms a toxic man into a worthy one, a deeply sexist trope that places the burden of male moral development on women, rather than demanding accountability.

James doesn’t evolve because he recognizes his behavior was wrong, he changes because it wins him the girl. There’s no moment of reflection or apology, no exploration of the damage he caused. Instead, the narrative assures us that because he was brave, rich, talented, and confident —because he died fighting Voldemort— his earlier behavior is irrelevant. He’s mythologized as a hero, a perfect father, a natural leader. Once again, the narrative rewards hypermasculinity —dominance, swagger, courage in battle— while erasing the harm it can cause when it goes unchecked.

These character arcs are deeply gendered. Sirius and James are not punished for their aggression, recklessness, or cruelty,they're forgiven, romanticized, even sanctified, because they embody traits traditionally associated with masculine greatness.

So when we step back, we see that Rowling's narrative doesn't just operate in a patriarchal world: it actively endorses patriarchal values. The story rewards characters who conform to traditional masculinity, regardless of gender, and punishes or ridicules those who don't. Emotionality, care, and vulnerability —whether in men or women— are dismissed or treated as weaknesses. And even when characters are powerful, if they possess feminine-coded traits, that power is portrayed as dangerous, unstable, or even evil.

The result is a world where gender roles are rigid, and where only patriarchal traits —strength, control, intellect, emotional repression— are validated. That’s not just a flaw in the world-building; it’s a political stance embedded in the structure of the narrative itself.

[erotonia]

TRAIÇÃO E RELACIONAMENTO ABERTO

Não. Este - e outras vezes em que este assunto surgir - não vai ser um texto bobinho explicando que o que é combinado não sai caro. Que se uma coisa é traição, outra é uma relação aberta e suas vertentes: poli amor, troca de casal, etc. Isto tudo já está demasiadamente batido. O que será abordado aqui são nuances quais pouca gente se dedica a falar.

Traição ainda é um tabu e casais que desejam uma vida não monogâmica, seja no molde que for, ainda temem que o assunto seja colocado na mesa. O fato é que, se a relação não segue padrões monogâmicos, pequenos deslizes, mesmo os que vão contra aquilo que foi acertado, deveriam ter mais chances de ser relevados do que seriam em uma relação monogâmica. Entretanto, em muitos casos, não é o que se observa. O sujeito gosta de ver a namorada transando com outras pessoas, mas ao pegar uma conversa dela com alguém em específico começa uma DR. A mulher que vai todas as sextas feiras à uma Casa de Swing com o marido, começa uma briga porque ele deu uma carona para uma colega de trabalho. Isto é real. Situações assim acontecem todo dia. E no meu ver, não deveriam acontecer. É necessário bancar as próprias escolhas e bancar a liberdade que se deu ao outro. Entendendo que, liberdade sexual não está acima de liberdade afetiva e da convivência com outros seres humanos. Estas situações partem do medo. E perpetuam, por mais que vocês estejam fazendo sexo, com Deus e o mundo, as normas do padrão monogâmico que vocês mesmos julgam como opressoras. Além disto, Lacam, Bataille, Freud, diversos autores que se debruçaram sobre a sexualidade humana já explicaram: o desejo vive na linha limítrofe entre o absurdo e o aceitável, o permitido e o não permitido, entre o seguro e o arriscado. No momento em que você decide, combina, acorda: tal coisa tudo bem, mas fulano não, tal situação não - são exatamente estas situações e pessoas que se tornam os novos objetos de desejo na relação. Por fim, não deixa de ser, no final das contas, um pouco hipócrita e infantil ficar sentido ciúmes e dando chiliquinho diante de situações que no final das contas são muito mais limpas e inocentes do que aquilo que vocês fazem ou fantasiam fazer dentro do quarto. Cresçam!

[himluv]

I agree with you on the Solavellan ending. I love the angst and tragedy and I'm eating the idea of Solas and Lavellan having a lot to unpack once in the fade. Dramatic confrontations, tears, breakdowns and a slow road to forgiveness,. Delicious food. But I'm really annoyed with a portion of the fandom that seems to just gloss over the fact that Solas killed Varric, someone who was always kind to Lavellan and was even her friend. And even if you don't like Varric personally he is in canon a relatively decent person who tried to reach out to Solas on a compassionate level. Then he used a blood magic puppet of him to manipulate Rook... IDK the way that seems to mean little to nothing to a lot of Solavellans kind of bothers me. I'm not here to tell anyone how they can or can't play but the takes have been so bad. The infantilization, excuses and woobification of our boy are so egregious. Solas is complex and morally gray. Why would we be going through the effort of redeeming him if he wasn't doing things that would require redemption in the first place? I've felt really disconnected from the rest of the fandom because of all of the softening of his character people have been doing and it's refreshing to hear a take from someone who loves Solas but doesn't want to defang him.

Thanks for this thoughtful reply to this post! Sorry this took awhile, but I've been thinking of what I wanted to say. Long and spoiler-riddled reply below, and I don't even know how relevant it is to your reply, Nonny. Sorry!

I think A Lot of folks have spent the last 10 years rotating him in their heads like one throws a clay pot, molding him into something he could be based on what we knew about him. But, we didn't necessarily account for the other forms he could take. And some folks are very resistant to who he's canonically become by Veilguard. Because it's not a good form, he got Worse™ in his decade away from friends and love (shocker!), and it's hard to reconcile this version of him with the ones we may have made.

I get all of that. But I also LOVE that. It means he could still surprise me, and I got to experience this weird duality of love/hate I didn't expect to feel toward him. I got to see his lies in real time, know he was lying because I KNOW HIM, and go, "oh, you little shit (affectionate)". Like, that's just FUN! Which, last time I checked was in fact the point of video games.

I love that he is unpredictable and dangerous in this game. That we finally see him go all out, and use every skill and trick he has. That is THRILLING, especially because he's more dangerous and lethal and ruthless than I personally expected. Which... Is my fault. I should have expected it, because look what he did to Felassan. Look how he so easily killed all those Qunari in Trespasser. Look what he did with those spirits of chaos and disruption. Look what he did to the Titans! I should have known better, the games and books showed me time and again what he was capable of. I just didn't want to believe it.

I've seen some posts talking about how Lavellan approaches Solas at the very last confrontation. How carefully she goes up the stairs towards him. I've seen several interpretations of it, but there's one I haven't seen (which could be because I'm not hanging out in the Solavellan tag much these days).

She takes those stairs slowly, as if approaching a spooked horse, because the last time someone climbed a set of stairs to talk him down from his ritual, he killed them. And I don't think for one second Lavellan believes, if she handles this poorly, he won't do the same to her.

And I think she is 100% right. He would, perhaps on "accident" as he claims to Neve was the case with Varric (debatable - seemed pretty intentional if maybe a bit impulsive from here). But I firmly believe there is a world where Solas would stab his vhenan if he had to and certain conditions hadn't been met (and yes that would utterly destroy him).

She walks up those stairs to him, her vhenan, knowing this is it. Their final stand. She will save him from himself, whatever it takes, and she is prepared to die at his hands if it comes to that. And it so easily COULD HAVE.

I don't know. I just think that Veilguard gave us SO MUCH more insight into Solas and there's so much there to chew on. I think we're going to be able to go back through all the games and codices and so many little details are going to fit together and complete a puzzle we didn't even know we were making.

After all of this, I still have so much to think on 😂. I'm going to be living in Thedas for another decade at this rate!

Good. I don't ever want to leave.

[dilfluvver4eva]

At his core, Louis is a character defined by longing. He longs for love, for understanding, for salvation—but he never quite finds it. His story is one of suffering, but also of resilience. He is often judged harshly, particularly for what happened to Claudia, but to reduce his actions to mere selfishness is to overlook the depth of his pain and the forces that shaped him.

Louis did not set out to fail Claudia—he loved her with all his heart, perhaps more deeply than anyone else in his immortal life. But love, for Louis, was never enough to save anyone, not even himself. He was not equipped to give Claudia the protection she needed, not because he did not care, but because he was emotionally paralyzed by his own trauma. His life, both mortal and immortal, was shaped by suffering that left him unable to fully act when it mattered most.

From the start, Louis carried the unbearable weight of guilt over his brother's death, a loss that shattered his faith and left him longing for death. He was raised in a world of strict Catholic morality, where sin and suffering were inescapable, and when his brother died—possibly due to mental illness but exacerbated by Louis's inability to understand or help—he internalized the blame. His family turned against him, his grief consumed him, and before he even became a vampire, he had already lost everything that had once given him a sense of purpose. When Lestat appeared, offering immortality, Louis was not drawn to it out of desire for power but out of sheer emptiness. He did not want to live, yet he could not bring himself to die.

Then, Lestat took him and molded him into something unnatural, something that was against everything Louis had once believed. He was thrust into a world of blood and violence, with a maker who ridiculed his pain and broke him down at every turn. Lestat mocked his morality, forced him to feed when he resisted, and manipulated his dependence by refusing to give him the answers he craved. Louis was not merely in a toxic relationship—he was trapped in an abusive cycle where love and control were indistinguishable. And yet, despite Lestat’s cruelty, Louis still loved him. He did not know how to separate love from suffering, because he had never been given love that was not tainted by pain.

Claudia became his only light in that darkness. When she came into his life, he saw in her something he had never had before: pure, unconditional love. She needed him, and he needed her, and for a time, they created a world in which they could survive together. But even this love was flawed—Claudia was never meant to exist as a vampire, and though Louis adored her, he also infantilized her, unable to fully accept that she was growing, changing, and resenting the prison he had unknowingly placed her in. When she turned against Lestat, Louis followed her, but in the end, he could not save her from the fate that awaited her. When she was burned to death by the Théâtre des Vampires, it was the final, devastating blow—proof that no matter how deeply he loved, he was powerless to protect those he cared for.

His yearning for love was equally tragic. With both Lestat and Armand, he experienced the kind of deep, all-consuming passion that he craved, but it was always twisted by manipulation, power imbalances, and the echoes of his past wounds. Lestat's love was violent and suffocating, a reflection of his need for control. Armand’s love was different—quieter, more consuming, but ultimately just as selfish. Armand did not seek to heal Louis; he sought to preserve his suffering, to keep him in a state of beautiful, eternal melancholy. Louis, shattered by Claudia’s death, let himself be drawn into Armand’s embrace, not because he truly healed him, but because he no longer knew how to exist without pain.

By the time we see Louis in the modern day, he has lived through centuries of loss, abandonment, and regret. He has endured the deaths of those he loved, the betrayal of those he trusted, and the weight of an immortal existence that offers no solace, only an eternity to relive his failures. And yet, he endures. He survives, not because he wants to, but because he does not know how to do anything else. His suffering is not self-inflicted—it is the product of a life that was shaped by forces beyond his control.

This is why Louis is misunderstood. He is not selfish; he is not weak. He is a man who has loved deeply and lost tragically, a man whose trauma has shaped every aspect of his existence. He wanted to save Claudia, but he was a victim of his own emotional paralysis. He wanted love, but he did not know how to accept it without pain. He wanted peace, but he was never given the tools to find it. Louis is not just a character who makes bad choices—he is a character who was shaped by the wounds inflicted upon him, and his story is one of survival in spite of it all.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Title of this publication :

"That Precise Moment When I Realize 'Y/N' Wasn't Written for Me 👩🏾‍🦱👩🏾‍🦳🧑‍🦳👩🏾‍🦰👩🏾‍🦲👩‍🦲🧕🏾🧕👩🏼‍🦱🧑‍🦱👩‍🦱 and a Plus-Size Peoples"

"Y/n threw her long blonde hair into a messy bun"

What the helly???‎ ( ⁰▱⁰ )

You know... those fics where Y/N is supposed to be 'universal' but systematically has hair that harmoniously blows in the wind, pale skin that blushes, and tans?

Yeah... Let's talk about it.

"'Y/N has hair like a waterfall in the wind/ He runs his fingers through his silky hair —

" her fine/delicate face"

"they pale skin flushed slightly."

"His blue eyes sparkled."

where, bestie? (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Yes. That's how I often discover I'm just an extra in a story I chose to read myself? Me, with my hair that needs 2 hours of prep, an oil, a moisturizing spray, and a YouTube tutorial. ?

And then ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ... I love it when authors think we all have the same hair density. Or that a 'messy bun' is a universal experience. Like, no, I can't just throw my hair back. It stays there, protesting. It needs an action plan, a meeting, a deep conditioning treatment, and some respect. Not just an improvised 'messy bun' at 7 AM before bumping into "Mr~Mrs. Love Interest."

Cause...

Breaking news my dears (.•̵̑⌓•̵̑) :

Not all hair types let themselves be caressed; with mine, I have to negotiate.

............................................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Now.

To you, "x reader" authors,

If you choose to write an x reader, an x Y/N, a neutral or universal reader... then write that. Not a character molded into a single form, not a fixed projection of what we've too often seen: thin, white or too white, pale-skinned, shy/too badass. Too feminine/tomboyish.Too much makeup/"oh my... Do you wear makeup every fucking day? I can't". And the most popular of all...Having "curves in all the right places."

(I have a long back. Now I do what? Huh?)

Because we don't need to have cascading hair to be worthy of a loving gaze.

We don't need to be small, pink, demure, or "delicate" to deserve a heart-squeezing romance.

We don't have to fit into a mold, damn it!

We just need to exist — truly — in your words. With our hair that doesn't necessarily shine in the sun, our skin that doesn't blush but gets hot, our bodies that take up space, our voices that don't always stay quiet. Our laughter that is not at all graceful. A "social laugh."

That's the beauty of an x reader: it's the silent promise that we can be ourselves... and still be chosen.

Without having to fit into a foreign silhouette, without having to silence our textures, our tones, our contours.

And if you can't write that, then say so. Don't offer us an illusion of ourselves.

Because we, too, deserve to have butterflies in our stomachs without having to disappear into skin that isn't our own.

We deserve to be loved without translation.

Love doesn't need filters. Just a gaze fixed upon us, as we are, that says: 'You. You are enough.'

......................................................

And for those who still have doubts or who think that we are dramatizing everything today.

A very simple example. (I think you're at least up to par for that one. Right?...) :

"Her frail/thin/fragile body"→ A toxic equation between femininity, desirability, and smallness.

"She stumbled clumsily" / "She was clumsy, that's what he liked about her" → Too often a way of infantilizing the female character and erasing strength or self-control.

"She had this innocence that no one could ignore."→ Infantilization + idealized virginity = 🛑

"His voice, soft as a whisper"→ And the deep voices? The loud voices? The broken voices? Made invisible.

"She didn't know how beautiful she was." → Overused false modesty. What if you know you're hot? So what?

"Her thin/delicate face"→ Implies that an "acceptable" face is small, thin, almost childlike.

"Her long, silky, cascading blonde hair" → Makes all other hair textures, Length and colors invisible. What if I'm bald, huh?

Inspiration of this text is taken from here

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What's your opinion on Dadmare aus?

I don’t think much about Dadmare aus, or not very often. I don’t have anything against them and whenever I come across content i usually think it’s cute and like the post before moving on, but i don’t seek it out and hardly engage in it.

This is mostly because i haven’t found an interpretation of dadmare aus ive been able to get invested in, most interpretations ive come across just aren’t for me.

My biggest “issues” (but not really) with most interpretations is that nightmare is almost always portrayed as a perfect dad who can do no wrong, all the other sanses are infantilized to hell and back, and as @/signanothername said in their own post, none of the characters feel like their own people.

Their relationships to eachother and Nightmare all feel very one note and cut from the same mold most of the time. All the same reactions, all completely trust Nightmare and kiss the ground he walks on.

I don’t mind found family, but I don’t like it when the found family is shoved into little boxes and cannot differ from them.

Nightmare is 500+ years old, did not grow up with any significant parent figure in his life despite winging it on taking care of Dream, and spent his 6 early years of life being routinely abused by all the adults around him. And then he was horribly transformed and corrupted.

Why would he take on a parental role again when the last time he tried something like that he was also a child, he had no other choice, and everything went to shit despite it? Wouldn’t he also struggle like any actual parent would.

If he spent 500+ years isolated and only interacting with others when forced to, or needing something from them like negativity, wouldn’t that life experience translate into trying to care for this group of traumatized men.

And they are men. They aren’t boys. They’re adults. Unless they’re supposed to be actual children when they meet Nightmare, or one or all of them are age regressed, then I don’t see the point in infantilizing them or treating them as if they’re children. None of these guys are looking for a father figure.

Adults can be found family, there doesn’t need to be any dad or child or siblings boxes to me.

Especially not when Horror already has a brother, Killer’s concept of family dynamics is also very likey screwed to hell and back (just look at what he thinks about any relationship, there’s no such thing as “equals” in his eyes, killer in dadmare dynamics would probably just view it as another role and game he has to play and “dadmare” is his new Chara), Nightmare killed his mother and his currently trying to kill his brother after trapping him in stone for years.

Dust killed his brother and is constantly haunted by his hallucination, Cross destroyed his entire AU and also came from an entirely different AU with a completely different life from the others. (Alphys being his sister, for example. Horror having lobotomized his Alphys and Killer having likely killed and tortured his many times and Dust having murdered his.)

So tldr: I don’t mind dadmare, but it personally isn’t for me. I like found family bad sanses, but not if there’s roles assigned and not if it’s not earned.

I don’t like Nightmare being the perfect father somehow and the sanses being treated like children even though they’re 30-40+ adults and aren’t looking for a father figure.

I prefer dysfunctional found family dynamics with the bad sanses.

Also that some people aren’t likely to be overly emotionally involved or invested in these dynamics for a very long time if at all, even if he plays along as if its all a game or some elaborate test being played on him— either because he thinks he has to, or because it’s something new and he’s curious. He may even get bored of the dynamics eventually, and start asking Nightmare when it’s game over.

Which could lead to something very interesting if he realizes it was never supposed to be a game or a test.

[goooofy-goooober1121]

The Discomforts of A Gilded Cage

"And I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy." Synopsis: Kalim's parties are more than just parties to him.

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper (slight mentions), Nondescript Partygoers

Tags: Kalim and his backstory, talks of trauma, mentions of kidnapping, poisonings, assassinations, loneliness; infantilization and yearning for independence.

WC: 1K

Ask Box is Open!

Narrative Version of This Post

Read below the cut!

One would know if they saw him. His voice would call out to them first, a recitation of their name that he had locked away deep in his heart; and if his voice did not reach their ears first, the tinkling and jingling of his golden trinkets would alert them to his impending arrival. He greets others the way he greets the world: with outstretched arms in a great big ‘hello’ and a gigawatt smile as blinding as sparkling diamonds beneath a shining sun. It would not matter how many times he had spoken to his selected subject-- if they had even spoken at all.

Kalim Al-Asim did not forget names, nor people, and much less the breathless invitation perfectly and excitedly delivered to his sudden new friend. His words flower at the edges, lifting in elation as if tied at the corners with helium balloons. I’m having a party, he says, and I’d love for you to come!

His message would be widespread amongst his peers in a matter of hours, either from his own mouth or through invitees inviting others. His parties were nothing short of magnificent and electric--- ragers, as described by some, so much so that even residents of the island that Night Raven College was situated upon would hurry to the school’s gates for the simple chance of infiltrating the campus and attending a Scarabian celebration. 

There was never a proper reason for Kalim’s parties, not really; whims were what created the evening revelries, for the most part. Tonight, though, he is especially proud to host his classmates. His dorm members had scored especially high on midterms this semester, and what sort of Housewarden would he be if he did not boast to the world how amazing Scarabia was? 

The music blares. The evening had come faster than he had expected. Kalim had busied himself with assisting Jamil with the preparations for the party; he was not, however, allowed in the kitchen. You can’t be trusted with knives, Jamil had reasoned. 

So Kalim had decided to decorate the venue. Vibrant streamers, balloons, confetti-- crimson, golden, verdant and cerulean, rainbow-- sprouted like flowers in a field along the moldings and tables. Tables were draped in the finest cloths, vibrant in Scarabian scarlet, and the drinks-- wine, juice, soda, champagne-- were extensive. Each partygoer could take a bottle and there would still be plenty to spare. 

And now, as laughter melds with the music, as bodies fall into improvised dances, as the scent of alcohol and spiced meals fills the air, Kalim’s chest swells with pride.

I did that.

There were not many moments where Kalim could say that. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he did something for himself. The heir to a wealthy family, servants had fussed over him since the moment he opened his ruby-red eyes. Jamil had been one of them; his closest friend, appointed to him by duty and tradition.

Kalim understood why. He was a boy born with a target on his back. By the time he could count to one-hundred, he had undergone countless kidnappings and attempted assassinations, sometimes by his own siblings; poison in his candied dates, coconut juice forced down his throat in the belief that it would counteract any toxicities in his body-- there was nothing that frightened Kalim anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time.

There is a fine line between innocence and incompetence. How could he not fall between either? He had never been allowed to do so much as learn to cook for himself. His closest friend, his brother in everything but blood, had not become his companion by Kalim’s social skills, but by obligation and tradition. 

Kalim understood more than what others thought he did. He was no idiot. But what good is skill when skill is not fostered? What good is intelligence in the face of infantilization? 

Someone stumbles by him. Kalim gives him a smile. Deep in his belly, he feels warm when the stranger smiles back. 

A moment of connection; he revels in it, internalizes it. Kalim knew he couldn’t trust just anyone. It was why so many of his nights were spent alone, locked in a gilded cage, why his parents were so strict about who he could and could not be alone with, and why, as a child, he became accustomed to the danger of being himself. 

It should have depressed him. It should have sucked the life out of his spirit, withered the laughter in his lungs--- but it didn’t. It wouldn’t, because if there was one thing the kidnappings and attempted homicides had taught him, it was how much Kalim adored being alive. To survive such horrible things at such a young age, over and over again until he’d lost count--- that had to count for something, didn’t it? 

The memories of it all were painful. They stuck to him like superglue. He would be lying if he said there weren't times where he would wake up in the dead of night from night terrors, or moments when he questioned why he had made it so far--- but what good was surviving if he allowed it all to weigh him like stones tied to his ankles, pulling him down into a deep, dark sea?

And so he smiles. He laughs. The beat of the drum through the speakers trembles all of Scarabia; for a moment, Kalim isn’t sure where it ends and where his heartbeat begins. His warm hands take those of another’s--- Jamil's, he realizes, past the fizzy haze of champagne in his system--- and drags him to the dance floor.

At home, those around him would act so dreadfully formal. Nobody would dance the way they do around him, fearing impropriety around an heir; never would he have shared the same food as his companions, and never would he have drank from the same bottle. 

At home, he would be Kalim Al-Asim, admired yet never loved. Revered yet never regarded. Never alone, yet forever lonely.

But this isn’t home. Tonight, he feels the warmth of camaraderie. Tonight, his heart is full. Tonight, he sings, he drinks, and he dances as if tomorrow he will meet his untimely end. 

Because tonight, Kalim is just Kalim. 

He is loved.

He is kindred. 

He is alive. 

[pinkcarabiner]

if you detest your fellow butches and use femmes for emotional labor and then dispose of them the second they stop showing you unquestioned loyalty, you don't get to call yourself a butch. femmes are individual, unique people and you don't get to force them into whatever infantilized mold of a femme you want. femmes don't owe you shit!!!!!!!!!

[sepublic]

            Belos is white; Not just in terms of race, and yes race IS very much relevant in regards to his characterization. But also his coven is white. White is all colors combined, and as he himself puts it, the nine main covens branch off from it in nine hues. Even if their colors aren’t quite accurate to the ones that white light splits off into, you get the idea.

            Thus, I want to roll with the idea that the heads of these respective covens are also different facets of the emperor, refracted and localized. So combining a bit of analysis with headcanon (a good deal of which is demonstrated in my Lost Hoots fic), we have as follows:

            Adrian Graye Vernworth is a blue-eyed, backstabbing con artist with an overinflated sense of self-importance and hides a demonic form behind a white ‘human’ appearance; But in the end, he’s a mediocre dimwit who’s only occasionally clever, has no real leadership abilities, and hides behind others he makes miserable and takes credit from. He’s especially ridiculous in his need to one-up and murder a child of color. He wanted to be of a certain profession, and resents someone he murdered even to this day. Seeing another person from his past causes him to snap and react recklessly.

            Hettie Cutburn is a serial killer with a need for control, who reacts viciously to people who don’t accept or praise her attempts to take care of them, that are blatantly violent and insincere. She infantilizes herself with this persona that detracts from her true self; A fully grown, lucid, malicious adult who gets violent when she doesn’t get what she wants. A misogynyistic role is imposed on a teenager she strongarms under her ‘protective’ wing.

            Ulrich Mason is a religious man who espouses conservative values and is outright told he doesn’t represent his species as much as he might think. Mason hides a weapon behind his back when he feigns having changed his mind, to a family member who did; He reacted angrily to this news, attempting to save their soul. But despite his remorse at his betrayal, Mason still commits to his cause afterwards.

            Domovoy Osran claims to speak for the Titan in protecting everyone and has a lot of delusions, symbolizing Luz’s anxiety over fate. His messiah complex thinks this great deity is guiding him along, but the reality is that they would hate and disprove of him deeply. Osran is quite chill with using petrification and bastardizing the dead to misuse them, and possesses a ‘guiding’ relationship with Kikimora. But for all his feats and advantages, he’s not as clever as he thinks and relies on some things as a crutch; Particularly, this assumption that destiny has his victory guaranteed, when really it foretells a defeat by Luz. He comes across as a caring old man, but has quite the cruel, vicious side to him.

            Vitimir Vialvilla is entrenched in sunk-cost fallacy, having wasted his whole life on something that brought his body ruin that he easily could’ve avoided and was his own fault, and even embraced what consumption has done. But he stubbornly refuses to see the truth as he makes Luz doubt her own dreams via a false comparison he brings up. Vitimir sees a species as lesser fodder for his own glory, and will sacrifice anyone and everything to achieve his destructive dream, because everyone else is an unimportant idiot. He believes he deserves better just for ‘trying’ harder, when really he just crossed ethical lines.

            Terra Snapdragon is a smug green sadist who savors having control and influence over others, molding young minds as she sees fit. She gets uncomfortably close with Raine Whispers, and sees other people’s ethics as rules ruining her fun. Terra believes people who don’t like her are the real villains going after a misunderstood underdog, but the reality is quite simpler; She’s just a domineering, mean-spirited jerk whose outcast nature is all her fault.

            Eberwolf the Huntsman is a hunter who operates under the idea that their pruning of a population is necessary to keep the world balanced and healthy, while studying their quarry to better pull off this role. They have a symbiotic relationship with various little creatures habiting their body that they derive further power from. He’s a little brother, with an older brother would never dare hurt or sacrifice him, not even in the name of things more important like the isles, and thus this contributes to great danger for the Demon Realm.

            Darius Deamonne had to sacrifice something to achieve a goopy form covered in glowing eyes, and can form scythe-like appendages from it. Otherwise, he appears human, and is connected to the Grimwalker lineage. He lost someone he used to know and look up to, but now sees them in Hunter, who is younger and related to that loved one. He hopes to change what went wrong with Hunter’s predecessor in the child.

            Raine Whispers wields red magic and is a leader for the isles, seeking to change the demon realm for the greater good. As a result of this idea, they’ve had to not only mask their identity, but cross ethical lines in their mission, such as lying and even accepting the idea of killing people who don’t necessarily deserve it; These things have had their clear toll on them, but they continue, believing their ends to be justified. Though they may seem unimpressive at first, they’re actually a charismatic speaker who ends up redefining society, and represents the Titan.