#visage;; dorothea

[inkedwaters]

don’t  look  at  me  pt  2.

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   visage   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   script   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   aesthetic   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   study   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   desires   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   headcanons   ❯

*    ⟢    JAMES  MILLER     ❮   edits   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   visage   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   script   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   aesthetic   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   study   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   desires   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   headcanons   ❯

*    ⟢    DOROTHEA  HAWTHORNE     ❮   edits   ❯

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Marina Amiral est une artiste de photographie numérique qui, depuis quelques années, s'attache à donner de la couleur à de célèbres photos en noir et blanc, une technique qui semble faire revivre le passé, lui donner une nouvelle vitalité et transmettre un sentiment de proximité renouvelée entre le sujet et l'observateur. L'une des photographies qui l'a le plus frappée, parmi celles qu'elle a retouchées, est certainement celle de Czeslawa Kwoka, une jeune Polonaise de quatorze ans, qui a fini ses jours à Auschwitz en 1943.

Czeslawa Kwoka a été déportée avec sa mère Katarzyna en décembre 1942 : la femme est morte le 18 février 1943, la jeune Czeslawa le 12 mars.

"Donner de la couleur aux photos de Czeslawa a été très difficile... Regarder son visage pendant si longtemps en sachant ce qui lui est arrivé a été douloureux."

Marina Amaral "Avec mon travail, je voulais donner à Czeslawa l'occasion de revenir en arrière et de "raconter" son histoire".

"Parce que donner de la couleur à une photo en noir et blanc, c'est faciliter notre sens de l'identification. Cela signifie rendre plus réels les signes de la maltraitance que ces personnes portaient sur leur visage. L'homme qui a pris les photographies originales, Wilhelm Brasse, était lui-même prisonnier d'Auschwitz. C'est lui qui a raconté les circonstances dans lesquelles les photos de Czeslawa ont été prises : la jeune fille ne comprenait naturellement pas l'allemand et elle a donc été battue par une femme chargée de garder les prisonniers. Czeslawa était l'un des quelque 230 000 mineurs déportés vers le camp de concentration d'Auschwitz.

On voit ici le portrait d'un orphelin de guerre à Londres 1945

Enfants devant un char allemand

Migrant Mother, la plus célèbre prise de vue de la photographe Dorothea Lange, avec Florence Owens Thompson et ses filles Ruby et Norma

Les médecins du 5ème et 6ème commando amphibie des USA.

[themattress]

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Continued from my last post.

Ending September with Chapter 6, the one that actually transpires in September!

- Let's not mince words here: Chapter 6 is in the running for my favorite chapter in the game. This primarily comes down to one thing: the mood. We have a lovable character in Flayn who has gone missing, with rumors spreading that she was abducted, quite possibly by the deathly visage said to be haunting the grounds outside the monastery. Because of this, your exploration period is all about trying to search for clues to her disappearance and gathering suspects based on accounts of suspicious activity, all while this fucking music is playing:

That music does brilliantly at creating the atmosphere, conveying both a sense of urgency and a sense of dread, making you feel unsure who to trust as you run around interrogating people and desperately trying to solve this dark mystery. It never fails to give me chills.

- The suspects you end up with are Tomas (based on Leonie's account), Shamir (based on Petra's account), Professor Manuela (based on Dorothea's account), Professor Hanemann (based on Linhardt's account), Jeritza (based on Felix's account), Sir Alois (based on Raphael's account), and Sir Gilbert (based on Ingrid's account), with some other inhabitants of the Monastery also pointing the finger at the Death Knight, Dedue, the people of Abyss or even Flayn herself. Obviously some of these possibilities are more likely than others (really, was there any player that thought Alois might be responsible?), but it all does a great job creating the sense of a whodunnit with all the various people and potential motives raised.

- The Blue Lions route has an exclusive scene before the exploration period that serves as a funny pseudo red herring where Byleth and Dedue come across Dimitri in the library late at night. When Byleth checks the book that Dimitri had been looking at, they see it's all about the financial donations to Garreg Mach by Lord Arundel, making you wonder if Dimitri suspects Arundel to be involved in Flayn's disappearance. It later turns out that no, this was related only to Dimitri's quest for answers concerning the Tragedy of Duscur...except that Arundel actually was the one ultimately behind Flayn's kidnapping anyway! Ironic, isn't it?

- The culprit, of course, ends up being Jeritza who it turns out is the Death Knight, whom the Flame Emperor loaned out to Arundel back at the end of Chapter 4. The underground lair beneath Jeritza's quarters is swarming with Agarthan mages and Flame Emperor soldiers who join the Death Knight in trying to keep you from rescuing Flayn and another girl being kept hostage. If your units are strong enough, they can charge on through with no problem, but if not the game provides a back route via teleporting tiles that makes things easier.

- Your house leader will be absent for the battle and their second-in-command takes charge alongside you instead. This is especially interesting in the Black Eagles route, which was the first one written, since Hubert's exchange with the Death Knight hints at their secret alliance with one another, and the Flame Emperor showing up while Edelgard happens to be absent is a huge red flag especially if you did the C+ Support with Edelgard beforehand. Byleth must be pretty thick in that situation since I just can't imagine anyone hearing Edelgard say this:

then encounter someone saying this:

and not make the obvious connection.

- If you somehow fail to defeat the Death Knight or his paladins in 25 turns, this happens:

"Bring me the women"!? Could you have made it sound any creepier, Edelgard!?

- Finally, the end of this chapter is officially what makes the split in the Black Eagles route between Silver Snow and Crimson Flower a difficult choice for me. At first I would have thought that it was an obvious choice given that I can never personally connect with Rhea no matter how much I like her as a character and am more in agreement with Edelgard on the state of Fodlan despite the whole "masked terrorist working with the Agarthans" thing.

But counterargument: Seteth and Flayn.

This is the chapter that marks a huge shift in Seteth's character and how I perceived him. First off it was impossible not to feel terrible for him in how emotional he's rendered due to Flayn's disappearance (with Mark Whitten once again killing it with his voice-acting), a reaction that foreshadows that the "brother-sister" relationship between them is a ruse and that Seteth in fact has a much deeper connection to Flayn that justifies this vulnerability he is feeling. And once you rescue Flayn, his overwhelming relief and gratitude is palpable. As he says, he is indebted to Byleth and feels extremely remorseful for all the doubt and passive-aggressive barbs he's given them in the past. With Seteth becoming friendly toward you and even allowing an equally grateful Flayn to join your class, you will feel like an ass betraying their trust by joining with Edelgard and fighting against them as you help her sack Garreg Mach. But for this playthrough I'm doing Crimson Flower, so I'll have to live with that guilt

[wardenwyrd]

Writeblr Introduction

Dotted in secret stars and whispered moons lies The Warden O' Wyrd; too bright smiles and sharp eyes linger on her skin, miasma orbiting their visage. When dusk's hands sweep fluttering eyes closed her shackles, in turn, loosen.

Greetings and welcome all, I am Wardenwyrd - connoisseur of messy queers, the freaky & occult, and all things speculative fiction! I am freshly new to Writeblr and am keen to dig my claws so fellow denizens of Writeblr interact if you enjoy my vibes < 3

Open to ask and tag games !

◈What I write ◈

Anything and absolutely everything speculative, weird horror, all shapes and forms of queerness, and a metric ton of worldbuilding.

Genres: Fantasy (Low, high, dark, fairy tale-esque, etc), Sci-Fi, Paranormal, Romance, Horror, Mystery

Fantastical, often ethereal and treacherous worlds flavoured with flowery prose

Queer, neurodivergent, and disabled characters and themes. All kinds of diversity really. Always looking to broaden and grow my noggin' with wisdom

Gender queer characters. An UNBELIEVABLE amount of dyed hair and pronounces.

Body horror: elegant body horror; gross, grimy body horror; wonderfully queer body horror 'til I burst at the seams; all sorts. Twisting of the body into something other than human as a form of beauty my beloved < 3 < 3

Characters who desperately need therapy (That would be my fault)

Rich settings and worlds. Give me intricate magic systems !!! give me ecology that could be shown in a nature documentary !!!

🌔About Me 🌒

Goblin in my (late) teens. I've been writing for a whiiiile but started really getting into it about half a decade ago. I will ravenously consume all forms of creative media.

⭐Likes ⭐

Favourite colour: Purple my beloved Favourite band: Mili (I'm so normal about them) Favourite genre/s: Gothic lit, Fantasy, Horror romance, whimsical fairies Fav insect: Moths/Butterflies

Stats:

Creative writing college student

Panromantic Ace | Queering my gender to the max

English (Regrettably)

Autism kreachure

Revolving door of hyperfixations on science-y stuff

Purple hair (Not beating the stereotype allegations)

WIPs

[Note: I am very bad at deciding on WIP names]

Prisma

My surreal fantasy WIP comprised of a collection of different stories linked by a unifying setting.

Colour-Coded to the max. Each central story focuses on a character assigned a colour, differing in tone, POV, and focus. Main three are purple, blue, and red.

Literal becomes figurative, and figurative literal

Charms and incantations of old swirl in from afar, weaving our hands together with something much deeper than flesh – a curious sentiment oozing from the recesses of Damsel’s cloak as the feeling of moss and stone wove through my veins; cold and refreshing.

◉

‘What absurdity’, The Arbiter would think to himself. After all, those carmine red eyes of his delve into the primaeval madness: in their muddy depths lies the shivering madness - Fear. From fear is the knowledge wrenched from uncertainty and bloodshot eyes. Dread is the light; tugging on world-weary watchers. 

Sort of portal fantasy, sort of not. The stories in this WIP span across many eras and places, yet often find themselves connecting and mingling. Incredibly queer.

Main characters:

MC of Red, Jack Pronouns: He/Him Bnuuy ass trans Victorian boy. Pasty and WILL combust in the sun. Autism creature. He gets a himbo bf and sick asf t-surgery scars as a treat &lt; 3 Character Playlist

MC of Blue, Hel Pronouns: Any/All seemingly innocent girl but remove the innocent and girl part. Kind of an eldritch horror after a character arc but like, that's the good ending. So old surnames weren't a thing in the era they're from. Character Playlist

MC of Purple, Dorothea Pronouns: She/They Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. Autistic adhd precocious mess who WILL make it your problem. Genuinely manipulative but has great hair so it's fine. Character Playlist

Other notable mentions

[Note: I will elaborate on all of these later]

Witch WIP

My beloved blorbos < 3 Once I figure out how to frame and present it in a more refined way I like I shall be posting about this.

Personal & Cultural struggle within a fantasy context | Disability & Identity as a main theme | Aroace protagonist and Queerplatonic relationship | Magic inspired by folklore and myth | Found family

Low Fantasy setting in a somewhat alternate earth

Sprawling magic system

Conventional fantasy groups but with a spin: revamping those vibes

Witches aren't just funny flying women but genuinely inhuman creatures with spicy shit going on

Demons and angels but: demon is the colloquial term for a class of magical beasts characterised by dense essence, not like hell demons. Angels are living algorithms born from patterns and don't have an actual association to any gods.

MC Playlists:

Branwen | Ingram

Five Steps From Hell

Biblically Accurate Angelic-Flavoured paranormal apocalypse

Autistic MC

More horror oriented than action

Lots of vibes.

MC becoming something not very human, but they're more worried that they aren't worried too much about it

I've got some dastardly plans for this one. Vibes and atmosphere whilst the world falls apart and neurodivergence is a great combo.

[dearesthea]

I. Lovely Dearest Self

The Coveted Paragon of Ubiquitous Enchantment ♡

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

II. Dulcet Serenade

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

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

Sincerely,

Dorothea Anne Valentine.

[agoraphovick]

Blue Passion Flower / / - - - Passion: Suffering. ACT 01 / / 002/004

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairings: Pre-Ferdinand von Aegir / Hubert von Vestra

Edelgard von Hresvelg / Byleth Eisner [F]

Blue Passion Flower | Jōnetsu hana

“I never wanted a man, Ferdinand. Not once.” “I mean it when I say I have never wanted a man in my life.” I have. I have wanted a man. Ferdinand stared down at her, his body shaking, “… I-I see.”

The argument does not get brought up again the next day during the daily meeting before the dinner bell. Edelgard calls the meeting with her usual poise, and there is a quiet as everyone moves in to take their spots. Everyone is either upset with Ferdinand for being so self-centered, or just outright too tired to think anything more of it. 

Surely that is the only reason.

Most of the Strike force were not fond of Ferdinand, so he was not expecting any check-ins the night before, and this morning before the meeting. And–he was grateful for no midnight chewing out session from Hubert for a job poorly done. 

The lack of reaction from everyone else was– odd though. Ferdinand already had enough anxiety in waves, so it was nice, but the fear of what should be on the horizon kept him braced. He was not about to ask them why they were keeping their distance, but he desperately wanted to know the answer. 

He walks past two empty seats at the front of the room, past Petra, and Dorothea, all of them amazed at him daring to move to his usual spot beside Edelgard? Maybe thinking… How dare he? 

Maybe. Ferdinand was far too trapped in his head to see if their faces gave anything away.

Ferdinand swallowed his fears and worries, trying to be worthy of the seat, like he had not just flayed her alive with words.

Like he had not hurt her the night before at all, and deserved to sit beside her…

None are more surprised by him taking his usual seat than Hubert apparently. Because his eyes had widened marginally. Ferdinand would not have seen it if he had not been hyper aware of any scrutiny that von Vestra may have shot his way at daring to go sit beside her once more. He expected rage, or a glare, but all he got was an unreadable look. Hubert’s gaze flickered away before Ferdinand could attempt to make sense of it.

Edelgard looks at him, nodding as he settles down, and then moves forward with the rest of the day's plans in her usual flare of strength and poise. Most are defensive positions and nightwatch rotations changing, some are mentions of the storehouse and the dwindling stocks of wheat and rice. The winter's grasp had snuck up on them, but Edelgard had plans in motion for proper provisions.

Bernadetta even chimes in, mentioning a farm; the entire table speaks and agrees as they animatedly think about how to improve the lives of those that stayed behind in Garreg Mach.

Ferdinand says not a word, quiet. Listening. Dimmed.

Edelgard begins to wrap it up, her fingers gliding over her papers, the clatter of metal thumping against wood a soothing sound, as he looks at her carefully sifting through her papers, trying to find something from the looks of it. There is a lull, more silence. The sound of papers shuffling gets a bit louder, his eyes still fixed to the way the pale white notes glide across each other as Edelgard keeps restacking them on each other, almost-... distractedly. “Anything else?” Lindhardt finally cuts in, clearly eager to get back to his clinic. Though how much of that was because of a patient, and how much of that was because he was never fond of these meetings, was beyond Ferdinand’s understanding. He was never the best at reading people most days anyway.

Edelgard hums, continuing to move her notes around, metal grinding across wood as she finally lets her hands settle atop the table, her head held high, but her hands fidgeting on the notes, “... no. That will be all. Meeting adjourned.”

Ferdinand rises without a word, his visage, and demeanor pristine, formal. He knew how to be courtly, he was trained for it after all. The anxiety of the unknown between him and the two people that had meant a great deal to him once-upon a time was not going to stifle him. He’d been chasing after Edelgard and her shadow for decades, their attitude since they were young was a familiar one.

“... Ferdinand. If you could stay behind.”

Ah.

Ferdinand stalls, his hand grips onto the top of his chair, newly pushed in, but now he wishes she had stopped him while he was still comfortably seated. He felt the click, click of Dorothea’s heels against the cobbled flooring, the vibrations grounding and almost comforting to know that at least everyone was leaving the room. No one would see what she has to say to him.

Her gaze is still down on her notes. 

Hubert remains in his seat across from them, white-gloved hands folded over each other. Ferdinand can see it in the corner of his eye, though the others expression was unreadable, not unless he dared to look at him, and Ferdinand really did not want to look at him.

“... I wouldn’t.” Edelgard says, clipped, sharp, keen. 

Ferdinand stares at her profile, confused, and worried. He feels like he missed a conversation, missed something important from the moment she asked him to stay, and the moment his thoughts had wandered to what Hubert could possibly be staying behind with them for. Was it to be intimidating? Was it– a dismissal…

“I beg your pardon?” Ferdinand says carefully, his voice slightly reedy.

“You said, I know someone you would.” Edelgard said, her voice taking on a note that sounded wholly unfamiliar to Ferdinand. He pulled a frown, right hand squeezing the back of the chair, the wood creaking as he tried to quell his quivering heart. The memory of those words making his caged bird of a heart bounce off the gilded frame. He knew that speaking his anxieties, his truths would bite him in the end.

He cleared his throat. Lacking the words to put her back on track, “...”

“You said.” She repeated, eyes lifting up. Ferdinand watched the lavender gaze with a confused stare, trying to make sense of what this was about, and why those words had been enough to make her this… heightened–

“I know what I said– that’s not what– that’s not what I was hoping you’d take away from our conversation, Edelgard.” Ferdinand says softly, worried, “I meant-”

“You meant it.” Edelgard said, eyes wide, still clearly shaken from the talk they had. Ferdinand had hoped that Hubert would be there to calm her the night before, did they even discuss it when he– Edelgard dropped her notes, words sharp and cutting off Ferdinand’s dark thoughts,, “you meant it, Ferdinand.”

…

Ferdinand’s eyes glanced at Hubert then. The shadow was a closed book, simply watching them, as if he wanted this conversation to happen. Then again maybe that was true, Ferdinand had not given Edelgard much time to give him a rebuttal the night before.

He sighed, and looked at her again, watching as she waited, waiting as she watched.

“Well?” Edelgard said, firmly, “you think I would leave you behind?”

Ferdinand had the answer in his head within seconds; yes.

Ferdinand tilted his chin up, and looked at her, “... of course not.”

“Do not lie to me.” Edelgard said, harsh. She used her entire body to push herself out of her chair, red skirts fluttering and shifting as she came to a stand. Like the day before she was still painfully small compared to him. Hubert chose that exact moment to stand as well, walking around the table to stand behind Edelgard as she turned to Ferdinand. His height now, was impressive. Looming.

“When– when did you start lying to me?”

Hubert’s body shuddered.

His face was still unreadable.

Ferdinand frowned at them, stifling himself, “...”

“Speak plainly. You were fine speaking when it was about– you were fine before. Where did all that bluster go now?” Edelgard said, biting on her tongue from the looks of it, as she tried to articulate herself. She was an orator. A perfect spokeswoman. Ferdinand should not feel good thinking he had stumped her with his words.

He could not answer them either, not if he wanted to keep the bird in his chest calm. The wings already fluttering, the fast thumping breathes as it banged itself against the sides of the gilded-cage he had contained his darkest self in. The part of him that was passionately aching.

“It is not of importance.” Ferdinand tried, hoping that it would be enough of a refusal that Edelgard would not press him.

Her eyes of lavender may as well have been cut from molten fire, she moved up to him, hand pressing into his chest, slapping it down much like she had with Hubert, her chest heaving.

“Speak. Plainly. Von. Aegir.” Edelgard said, each word enunciated with a oddly gentle rap of her gauntleted palm against his blood red cravat, “you think I would leave you behind?”

“... Edelgard.” Ferdinand intreats, giving a sigh, his eyebrows crinkling down low over his bronze eyes, “you know that’s not the problem I was-”

“My problem is that one of my Generals, thinks I want him dead.”

Ferdinand inhales, staring. His face shuttering, the fear of being seen and known so loud in his skull it was like a tolled bell in his soul. Oh, was this how Edelgard felt yesterday? What an awful, terrifying feeling. He kept his tongue in his mouth. So much for not speaking like he had planned before coming into the meeting.

Edelgard stepped back, her eyes dry, but her determination and ferocity was evident as she said softly, “say something.”

“... I think I’ve said enough.” Ferdinand said slowly, voice diplomatic. Plain. His insides were destroying themselves, feathers everywhere, the golden cage expanding beyond his ribs, making it hard to breathe, no space for anything but the frantic fluttering of the bird in his heart. All of this going on within, yet he remained poised. Unruffled.

Determined to hold his silence.

Hubert, just behind Edelgard’s right, took a step forward, but remained silent.

“... you can boast and shout and demand me to combat you in everything and anything, even something as simple as eating a meal. Yet when I meet you in this arena you yield? Really, Ferdinand?” Edelgard bit out, her eyes squinting, eyebrows scrunched up as she glared, “what are you too scared to say.”

Ferdinand closes his eyes, collecting himself. The chair that he has a grip on the only thing he has to ground him as he remembers a life changing memory;

They were in the forest behind Edelgard’s home, tall expansive trees, dark woods. It was what nightmares were made out of as a child. Ferdinand remembered going in with them, the first time in a while that they had even let him tag along to play with them.

He remembers how eager they were to take him.

He remembers how fast they had run off without him. Expecting him to get home. They were children… it was- innocent.

It was an innocent prank.

Ferdinand remembers how long it took him to get back, the longest hour of his life, but thankfully even at that age he was paying attention to his surroundings; a byproduct of how scary it was in the woods, but he had no reason to be fearful, he had two friends with him.

He remembers Edelgard’s words, “why are you crying? It was just a joke! We didn’t mean it!” Her tiny hands gave uncoordinated sweeps at his tear-stained cheeks, a horrible attempt at comfort, as she hiccuped and cried too. He remembers Hubert to the side, agreeing, no tears, but he did look peeved that Ferdinand would think they abandoned him, “we would have gone back to get you. Why are you dramatic?”

Young Ferdinand had calmed down, and they all went back to playing, but– aged as he was, and after Edelgard and Hubert changed so drastically that her hair become a vivid white, and Hubert’s eyes became bleak with too much knowledge… he knew it was a desire to be rid of him. Not to kill him off, he doubted any of them as young as they were thought of such things, certainly, but–

Ferdinand had felt unwanted.

And he never was able to shake it, not after everyone he thought he had been loved by started to look at him like they had back then, when they rushed away from him in the woods, tired of the Aegir welp and his incessant noise. Like he was a nuisance.

It was the beginning of their separation. And it only worsened when Edelgard came back changed.. and Hubert grew up jaded. 

Ferdinand remembered the forest, remembered the fear. Remembering his mouth, his loud mouth that got him in such a mess to begin with.

… He really was not good at shutting his mouth.

…

Ferdinand exhaled, and opened his eyes, looking at Edelgard, and then to Hubert, calculating his next words, considering them. Hubert was patient, unlike the night before, like he knew what the answer was and was just waiting for Ferdinand to open his mouth, as he always did. No opinion nor thought was too private for General Aegir to keep to himself. Surely Hubert thought as much, surely he knew that nothing that lived inside of Ferdinand would ever be sent to the dark corners of his mind.

Edelgard had recovered from her breathlessness, simply waiting, no assumptions on her face. Yet, a demand rests in her eyes, a demand for an answer, for words. Her face is open… she wants to know what he thinks… she wants to know why. Her face… is open, wanting to soak in his words…

Ferdinand’s throat locked up.

He… wanted to speak. He wanted to say what the bird in his chest craved to screech about, wanting to be honest about his worst fears, his worst experiences. The bird in the cage wanted to be free. Wanted. The truth. The cage was so– so stifling.

Ferdinand remembered how excited they had been to show him the woods, how excited they had been showing him everything in the wilderness, only to…

And–

And how fast they had abandoned him there when he foolishly believed they cared about him. That they had wanted to spend time with him instead of run off and do big kid things.

And how that one moment changed him, irrevocably.

The cage was suddenly safe, gilded in iron, shackling his heart.

Ferdinand shook his head and stepped back, excusing himself with a half-bow, “... I’ve said enough.”

He turned, and was glad that neither of them stopped him from his retreat. There was a shuffling of feet, clothing? Ferdinand stopped paying attention, all he cared about was the sight of his boots as he made his way from this nightmare of a conversation.

The air was static-charged, but Ferdinand wasn’t sure if that was the bird ricocheting in his chest, or if his retreat had angered Hubert enough for him to call on his Reason. To give him a knock in the head for being so insubordinate with Edelgard, for daring to even say no to her. Like Hubert did not care about how it would affect Ferdinand. Like she did not care how-

It was not until he shut the council room doors that he realized he had been holding his breath, his vision swam, oxygen rushing.

It was not until he shut his bedroom door that his body shook, tremors upon tremors throughout him. The clatter of his feet across his floor. Slumping against his bed, slumping against his nightstand like he was praying at the bed of a dead loved one.

He did not make it to the covers, the sheets, the–

His hands felt numb against the duvet, the soft plushness doing nothing, he could not feel it.

Ferdinand decided to forgo his usual midnight ride around the compound to look for scouts, and spies that could be close to their perimeter. He instead let his knees grow uncomfortable against the frayed carpet beneath. 

He pressed his forehead into the blankets, the burning in his eyes remained, but he did not feel tears come. 

Good.

He slept.

[risingretribution]

Tag Dump // Dorothea Idilla Kapral

[ soft as light darker than dusk || thea ; ic ] [ hold the night in your hands || thea ; visage ] [ i dont need eternal life ; i believe in us || thea ; musings ] [ i've been waiting for some time ; i don't care how it ends || thea ; aesthetic ] [ it goes around like a fire in my head || thea ; headcanons ] [ all the saints will sing the tragedy of our song || thea ; dash games ] [ I Know What You Are || thea ; crack ]

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[scarletrefrain]

❰❰ GAZE ❱❱ Sharena finds herself so enamored with Dorothea— her grace, her poise— that she ends up staring at her for perhaps a twinge too long...

The dining hall was a congregation of new faces. Though Dorothea new only some of her own class, she made short time in glancing over the visages of other students. What might be their hopes and dreams? How might she use them to their fullest? 

This would only work if she came in with knives out.

Her eyes shift and she notices a younger-looking student. Blonde. Their eyes connect for only a moment but she allows herself to release one of her softer, more genuine smiles. What’s the harm? Maybe there was a time when she seemed that innocent…..

As Dorothea turns her head back forwards, she makes sure to maintain a perfect smile. After all, she must make sure to diligently get to know her classmates.

[crevassier]

His reaction to the ‘armored nuisance’ being revealed as Dimitri was instantaneous. At first Sylvain had failed to catch on, far too distracted with his own thoughts and other matters at hand to make the connections between the nickname and its possible owner, but now that it became clear who it was meant to signal a new surge of indignation flared through his veins. Even if the upset from their talk was very much still present, in the end Dimitri was still his lord and his friend. And hearing Senno of all people call him a nuisance made him want to shove the guy headfirst into the boiling pot.

Just listen to Yunaka, he reminded himself as arms loosely crossed over his chest, fingernails digging into the skin of his forearm while gaze and visage quickly schooled themselves into smoothing over the creases of irritation. 

Once it was clear that his turn to talk had arrived, Sylvain leaned back slightly. “Dorothea, the sun idol,” He started, trying his best to not let much of his bias or any preexisting irritation at the mere memory of her face show. It was natural to bring her up, as compared to all the other names he mentioned so far, he hadn’t spoken much about her. “Was one of the people I was with in the first round. She was getting pretty competitive with the whole thing, and even challenged me to see who could get more candy. Like I said before, she’s also used to resorting to deception and lying to get through things.” 

A brief pause was allotted while he organized his thoughts. “When I met her in the second round, she had told me she met with a devil as well. But she didn’t say who she had gone trick or treating with.” It’s not like he gave her any room to talk about it either, as he had come to her with another purpose in mind. 

His left eye twitched, face holding back a frown. 

Sylvain breathed in, his mouth forming a thin line as air left his nostrils.

“I don’t think she’s a devil, though. It would be too predictable, considering who she is.” And I'm almost positive she'd face the role as an insult.

@dcggersedge

all trouble, no toil

toajuicy2024 | round 3

[heartscfvalor]

Introducing: Dorothea (Tea) Borelli

But how do you wait for heaven And who has that much time And how do you keep your feet on the ground When you know That you were born, you were born to fly

The long lost twin sister to Tiegan Borelli, Dorothea (Tea) Akilah Borelli-Hernandez is a young witch who survived an abusive household from her biological mother, separated from her brother in foster care, and then adopted by the Hernandez family, Juan and Kiesha, and is the youngest of their five adopted children; her eldest adopted sister, Gianna, was starting high school when Tea was added to the family at nine years old, while her brothers Jeremy and Milo, the twins, and Vincent were in middle school.

Tea (also known as Dory or Ro) grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana, in one of the upper class neighborhoods, helping her adopted family continue fostering other foster children, as Juan and Kiesha had very high paying jobs and big warm hearts. She became fluent in Spanish due to her father being from a Mexican family, and their family reunions are always full of love and food and family.

Bubbly, outgoing and uncommonly kind, Tea has a sort of aura that brings people around her to be nearby in hopes of catching a smile or even a greeting from her in passing. She had a lot of friends, always picking the best people to be in her inner circle, and her favorite past time is learning details about new people in order to make them feel welcomed by putting that information to good use.

At the age of thirteen, like many White Witches before her, Tea’s magical abilities began to make themselves known following the first full moon of her birthday. Learning to control and hone these powers was a slightly difficult process, but Tea has poured her energy into gardening and cooking, so every plant she cares for thrives, and her cooking always has that special hint of something special, no matter how complicated the recipe. She dreams to someday enter the medical career to use her magic to help people, but for the time being, she is content with taking a job at the local bakery, where every batch she makes comes out absolutely perfect.

Tea is aware that she has a twin brother she lost contact with due to being separated at such a young crucial age. By eighteen, she is fully into the swing of trying to search for him, but Tiegan is notoriously hard to find when he doesn’t want to be found. She can only hope that someday they can be reunited, and they can be a proper family again.

FC is Vanes.sa H.udgens

[cameraflcshes]

tag drop !

[bvtterflyeffectxx-a]

♡ ━ from a young age, i thought 'true love' was something you find with a significant other. because of my parents, i had a pretty naive idea of what that 'love' was supposed to look like. i gave my heart, my soul, and everything in between to someone who didn't deserve it. that 'love' was painful and it broke me in ways i can't put into words. i soon learned that what i had with him wasn't 'true love' because my soulmates were the four greatest accomplishments of my life and...

[intergalacticforces]

(( Tag drop! 16/? ))

[plumbitch]

The Hellraisers, Post-War

Lady Inez Videlle (purple): On Felix’s other side is a tall red-headed woman. She looks as surly as him although her poise is much more regal. [Margery] learns that this woman is Lady Inez Videlle and her name carries significant weight within Faerghus’s court, mostly of the negative variety. She was born to some social standing but rebukes the original name and family she came from. None of the rumors surrounding the split are consistent--best [Margery] can tell, some sort of falling out happened between the former lady of House Craven and a much younger Lady Inez. She is an enigma connected to Houses Fraldarius and Gautier.

Archmage Gerta Grunweld (blue): Everyone has been talking about the new Archmage. She is a former mercenary and her service to her old band was severed when her former captain chose to ally with the Empire and [Gerta] chose to fight on behalf of the former kingdom. For [Gerta’s] loyalty, Archduke Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd appointed her to the position of Archmage. The technique she possesses is a combination of two schools of thought stemming from her split heritage--half her blood is of Faerghus and the other belongs to Duscur. With a mix of two schools of training, there’s a great opportunity [for Margery to acquire] this shared knowledge, that is, if the Archmage is willing.

Lord Tico Astrada (green): [Uzadri’s] former lieutenant is a woman as big as she is bold and has a penchant of calling those under her employ “little sister.” Tico Astrada is a powerful warrior and a close friend to all those that served under her during her mercenary years. She’s been instrumental in cleaning up the countryside of Adrestia. An honest soul and a seasoned combat veteran, she spends her retirement in the company of a one Lady Dorothea Arnault with the two of them often trading off when the call for diplomats reaches the halls of Adrestia’s slowly recovering court.

Filiagarde Hessner (red): Filia knows her worth and the worth of one hundred-fifty women more vicious than half the mercenary bands that operated on the side of the Empire. Her stone resolve holds strong when negotiating and her will cannot be moved. It is easy to see the terrifying visage of the Vermilion Rose that conquered a third of Faerghus once. In the face of banishment, she has not changed and she has long since pushed aside the regret. Her life is hers and her blood will belong to the Crown if she ever sets foot on Fodlan again. Her people are better for having her--Fodlan will be better for having known her.

High Queen Uzadri Felgrave (white): Fodlan is as fresh as newly made clay. Blood and effort fill the cracks, shaping it as the years stretch on. [Uzadri’s] gaze traces the remnants of a once thriving town beneath her balcony. In theory, it should have been easy to put everything back together again. In truth, more problems pile upon the table and the cries of the broken are drowned out by the incessant barking of the nobility. Leicester fares the best having kept the war outside her bountiful borders. Faerghus celebrates but mourns in the same. Adrestia lies in shambles and fears of a second insurrection flows through the halls. It’s a fine mess to inherit. She sighs and steps back into her room to finish preparing.

I finally did it. All the Hellraisers in one room.

[flamespun]

tag drop: dorothea

[beatnicksellar]

Marda Loophole: TPB: Issues #7-12

Issue #7 – The Exodus Then: Mada opened her eyes to the inhuman sights and sounds of war Half-men strewn about Bramshott the RCAMC tent soaked in red gore Through the horror she saw her scarecrow the one she treated before Minus a leg he was alive and that was enough to lift her off of the floor Now: Mada opens her eyes to the fuzzy sight of 4 purple children overhead Siphoning energy from a radiant boulder their chant stirs her from the dead A tingle in her toes and sour taste in her mouth the Hole is as Dennis said He labours nearby as the kids stitch Mada together with amethyst thread With the dulling drone done the rock bathes everyone in its immortal hue The old wendigo’s cell unlocks in the uproar allowing her to slip through Before Mada’s blurry eyes the frailest child’s torn from the circuit and slew She can hear the rapacious wendigo sob as she reluctantly continues to chew The plaster walls of the outbuilding begin to buckle from the stone’s potency Suddenly Pope enters the Hole and descends the staircase with much urgency The doctor’s met mid-way by the limping wendigo who embraces him completely Mesmerising him with her wildfire eyes she gladly detaches his loins from his body Dennis returns to find the Hole in shambles with Dot eaten and Dr. Pope screaming He disconnects the kids and requests that Mada give the boys’ lives a new meaning One of the boys grabs a ledger while the other two grip Mada and they begin fleeing Dennis and the wendigo clash by the emitting mound soon buried under the ceiling South Calgary is silent for the first time since the 33 soldiers were secretly dosed But without the hum to calm them they thrashed 33 Avenue like a whipping post Possessed troops overturned the streetcar and chard the theater like it was toast Stiff pedestrians and sate scavengers guide Mada back to her husband Marc’s ghost She mourns over his blood-spattered prosthesis as one boy reads a shard of glass His brothers study the ledger as he peers into the sliver to see what’ll comes to pass ‘We’ll return when the streetcar does’ the scrying boy points to the upturned mass With crazed GIs loose Mada and her boys depart while a curious crow tails her ass… Issue #8 – The Wild Boys ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩ A gayageum plays notes from the concerto called Dorothea The ribbon of rhythm writhes on the airstreams over Korea Baroque tones stir the ancient visage which inspired its idea Eddying over the ocean to hover above a 33rd avenue pizzeria ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫ The melody meanders up 20th street pausing at its composer Three long-haired boys that look 10 but are very much older Standing before Currie Barracks Condo they are of one mourner The unrelated triplets commiserate over their deceased sister ‘I cannot feel her in there’ John the empath of the family confirms ‘I cannot reach her’ Robert retorts ‘all I hear is Dennis and worms’ Scryer James perceives future events but cannot grasp their terms ‘All I see is that the stone has been scattering its ill will like germs’ Treating the condo as if a gravestone they pay respect to her spirit With unkempt heads down the trinity are subdued for a moment Each recalls Dot, the Hole, the old woman then all begin to fidget John pulls a music sheet out of his shorts and whistles a snippet ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♬ James and Robert join him in his performance of Dorothea No. 4 When done John tosses the concerto down onto the sewer floor As they skate through the Loop Mada’s name hangs in every store Coffee shops hum with anticipation over the 70-year-old folklore Around the corner of 35th avenue is where a hungry entity stalks A hefty shadow cast from a vacant lot that limps wherever it walks The boys are too distracted to notice the relic from Pandora’s Box Because a fireball is about to knock’em out of their graphic socksIssue #9 – The Vacant LotYellow barricades protect the rich soil within the vacant lotThough ideal for growth it’s contaminated by junkyard rot Comparable to the toxin that comprises Hausis’ blood clot An

inherit gift from her father and the affects it has wrought Over a century old she has been scarred twice by the stoneAs well Hausis has been forced out of more than one homeFrom her log cabin to that school and finally the catacomb A hole she fled full of a plum, revenge and astral syndrome Dark energy leached into her, those boys and the headless one Wendigo mixed with indigo and once again she was on the run But on the Rez her spirits calmed; she even adopted a grandson It was the last time she felt love as the Sixties Scoop had begun Hungry and hateful she hid her mercy and fed on colonial fears Hitchhiking Highway 16 in the 1970s she traded entrails for tears Retribution for her surrogate sisters who had began to disappear When the stone summoned her home she returned with souvenirs She settled in South Calgary and became a landlord to tasty tenants Bones buried in the vacant lot next-door while lying to their parents A cane sword to assist her limp and cutback on the slaying minutes Serrated steel dentures to masticate and absorb her preys’ essence A century old entity at last content with her damned life up until TONIGHT When her plums return assured and still ripe enough to enjoy a quick biteWhen her bone yard is deemed aseptic and police investigation is in sightHausis lunges at the wild boys only to be repelled by a nimbus of starlight… Issue #10 – The Above People CREEEAK! The tactless teenager forcefully opens the oxidized attic door In search of a white wig for her cosplay getup she stomps across the floor Rummaging through containers she finds something unusual in a drawer A thirteen-year-old letter that when opened clarifies exactly who it is for ‘Aline: It’s with regret and sadness that I write this letter to my daughter’ ‘I had to go to a dangerous place so I left you to be raised by your father’ ‘I never stopped loving you or dreaming of the day we would be together’ ‘When you are ready to meet amass juniper twigs and a magpie feather’ Elated to see her mislaid mother Aline flees the loft in her space-opera costume She sprints across 35 Avenue towards a vacant lot shrouded by juniper in bloom Ripping off a bouquet Aline is unaware that just beyond bodies are being exhumed She spots a pudgy magpie perched on the yellow barricade and plucks at its plume Clutching the vital items the Big Dipper shaped beauty marks on her right arm glows FWOOOOM! A blinding white light descends from overhead lifting her off of her toes Aline suddenly finds herself in a melancholy landscape of stars, clouds and shadows Before her sit 2 enormous Above People who enquire as to her odd-looking clothes ‘It’s for Comic-con’ she roars removing the wig ‘who’re you and where’s my mom’ Sun God laughs as Moon Goddess speaks: ‘We see that you were raise with aplomb’ The electric entities sizzle and pop as they struggle to alleviate Aline’s many qualms ‘Your father fell in love with our granddaughter: the Morning Star he wished upon’ ‘But she had to return to Sky-Country to rid it of the evil her mother had let loose’ Mother Moon details how Feather Woman disobeyed and iniquity was introduced ‘She moved the giant turnip that which protects our portal because she was obtuse’ Mother Moon adds she encased the dummy in indigo stone and made her vamoose That is the past but the portal remains open for dark matter to infest Sky-Country The same stuff brought down with the stone when it crashed in the 19th century Aline accuses her great-grandparents of killing her kin and for spreading villainy The Gods giggle at the allegation clarifying Feather Woman merely has an injury More gen is traded and a deal is struck: if Aline fixes the portal all will be forgiven Above People will help find the Morning Star and teach Aline of her nuclear fusion KRA-KOOM! A fiery comet crashes and Aline emerges from impact like a magician Gazing at the wild boys she states ‘You dudes are my gran and we have a mission’… Issue #11 – The Penultimate Sequential squares spread over an infinitude of glittering stars Panels parted by gutters spanning

centuries between the bars A billboard advertises Marc and Mada’s forthcoming memoirs Christened Marda; Loop denotes the superannuated streetcar Inset in the ad is a shot of Magpie gnawing on a decayed thumb bone Balanced on the sign she spots a bird below who was once well known Magpie cries: ‘Ain’t seen you since you left with THAT there veiled crone’ Alit next to Magpie Crow recalls his ghastly exploits beyond the stone ‘It was Hell’ he croaks ‘The screaming, the silence, the suicide attempts’ ‘It took HER forever to bond with THOSE boys and get over her regrets’ ‘Once she did’ Crow pauses ‘she spearheaded some tantalizing events’ Led by the ledger and scryed images they tracked the fiery GIs’ contempt While 7 indigo infected ones enlisted for Korea 26 settled in Forest City An innocuous epithet for somewhere death stalked the streets regularly Enclosed by thickets it’s where butchers would conceal a mutilated body ‘The Serial Killer Capital’ Crow yelps ‘We lured them out during the 1960s’ Crow clarifies that when the GIs moved there each become a major player: Mad Slasher, Bedroom Strangler, Balcony Killer + the Chambermaid Slayer Mada the bait, Crow the lookout, and 3 wild boys unified became the healer ‘In the forest we’d draw out the purple poison leaving the mortals tamer’ Mada’s nursing background afforded them a home and a baby-grand piano She worked while under pseudonyms the boys penned novels & concertos ‘Forest City was safe and we had obtained almost all of that fugitive indigo’ ‘Almost’ Crow echoed ‘We left for Korea in ‘81 on a plane from Toronto’ Magpie squawks sceptically: ‘And then miraculously back for the 70th Anniversary’ {Had it been that long?} the crone ponders {Why did they whitewash my tragedy?} The veiled woman below the advert grimaces then utters anachronistic profanity Stalwart in stance she shudders when the #7 rolls by renewed for the pageantry… Issue #12 – Giant-Size Finale The fixed indigo stone pulsates expelling the remnants of its space toxin Pumped into the faucets of 22 occupants of the new condo atop its coffin Dragging fingers thru mauve hair they’re rapt by the stone’s dim doctrine They riot inside the structure while outside Mada and her wild boys lock in ‘Try it again’ the costumed Aline guides from inside the infinite sealed loop She has juniper and feather in hand yet something is off within their group ‘That thing’s teeing me off’ Mada breaks from the ring and sits on the stoop The rebuilt #7 streetcar gleams in the parking lot next to an effigy of troops Suddenly…a service door opens and the old wendigo limps out of the edifice ‘You’ Hausis growls at Aline ‘You’re relations with that Metis bastard Dennis’ Mada perks up at the name of the man who inadvertently made her endless ‘Are you?’ Mada asks ‘She sure is’ Hausis sniffs ‘and it’s making me ravenous’ Incensed Mada bares the jagged indigo scar spanning the length of her collar ‘Dennis did this’ she states ‘and orchestrated the 1950 South Calgary slaughter’ Aline has entirely no clue as to what occurred because of her great-grandfather And before Mada can educate her the group is spotted by a police helicopter ‘Freeze Ms. Cranmer’ a voice booms as a squad car pulls up with guns drawn Hausis has been hiding since police uncovered the bodies she had feasted on Clotheslined and cuffed the 145-year-old Cree woman is beaten with a baton Aline, Mada and wild boys watch in horror as Hausis is tenderized like carrion The wild child named Robert tugs at Aline’s skirt pointing at the departing cop car ‘Dot’ the 80-year-old kid chirps ‘The hungry lady has carried our sister’s soul so far’ Mada is not their 4th because it is the frail child Hausis mauled like a chocolate bar ‘We need that granny back’ Aline barks at Mada who turns away rubbing her scar Aline suggests they take the idle #7 and propel it with a trick she has just learned ‘Can I borrow a feather from your crow?’ she asks of Mada who still feels scorned Crow leaves Magpie atop the streetlamp landing beside Aline his feathers formed ‘I am not getting on that ’

Mada repeats just as the crazed tenants emerge armed KRA-KOOM! The refurbished #7 streetcar rockets down 20th street like a fireball Crow and Magpie try to slow the tenants’ progress to the 33rd avenue mini-mall Meanwhile the #7 zips down the parade route until it hits the cruiser then a wall Everyone on the #7 is unscathed and so too is Hausis who’s eating a cop’s eyeball Magpie and Crow flutter in to warn everyone of the approaching horde of tenants The wild boys jump into action with a hand out for Hausis who sees it as penance ‘Doesn’t make me a plum’ she gripes grasping John’s hand as if she is pregnant As the 4 siblings unite clouds appear and a powerful deluge forms within minutes The first drop hits as the vicious throng reaches Marda Loop then the sky cries The drenched tenants lose their momentum as the mauve washes over their eyes The rain relents as does the horde but Mada’s inner ire cannot be overemphasized The wild boys embrace Hausis and in turn Dot whose soul has now been reprisedOnlookers have gathered at the site sad to see there’s no anniversary to reminisce Crow and Magpie peck at the injured police officers as Aline stares into the abyss She apologizes to Mada for her relative’s actions but asks for her not to be remiss ‘We cannot change the past’ she points out ‘But if you help us now we can fix this’The wendigo, the crone, the wild boys, the star-child and the scavengers all return Loitering outside of the Currie Barracks condo building hashing out their concerns Hausis has subsisted with the stone while in exile so she knows where it’s interned In the bowels of the sub-basement they find the ancient rock fading in a slow burn John, James and Robert the perpetual 10-year-olds encircle Aline and embrace her Hausis jeers as the boys kiss their kin then whisper in Mada’s ear: Goodbye Mother The siblings start siphoning the stone’s essence back; Aline waves Magpie’s feather Hausis and the boys convert to stardust they swirl around the stone and then enter Aline and Mada escape the building as the boulder flies backwards thru the nexus Its trajectory bearing straight for Sky-Country where it will rid the land of sepsis The portal is sealed and The Above People welcome Feather Woman and Hausis Back in South Calgary Mada stands in the quiet rubble no longer feeling headless ‘Wanna meet my dad?’ Aline asks of her lithe friend who nods producing a smile Mada calls Crow but he and Magpie are stardust in a constellation of their profile Unveiled Mada and neophyte Aline walk towards a rainbow after their long trial As both fade over the hill stardust diffuses and floats to somewhere worthwhile An End