#visage;; dorothea

[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

[hresvelged]

[ BREATHLESS ]:   having clearly just sprinted down to the receiver, the sender tries to catch their breath while greeting them.

there is little reason to be caught running anywhere on school grounds, especially when she fancied herself—or, rather, forced herself—to be the picture of grace, the perfect depiction of poise and elegance, and everything else she worked so hard to appear to be.

except when she spots that princess of theirs, their house leader with the icy locks and piercing gaze, who never once thought to look down on any of the eagles, even when it would’ve been second nature to do so.

“hey!” dorothea goes flying down the stone paths, boots clicking loudly and hair whipping behind her as she races to catch up. “edie! wait up!” her heart hammers in her chest, breath catching in quick bursts, but the songstress does not slow down until she finally reaches edelgard’s side, chest heaving as she desperately smooths her disheveled hair, trying to look composed in front of the future emperor.

she smiles, breathless. then, she forces the most charming grin she can muster, taking a moment to steady herself so she doesn’t speak in gasps.

“sorry about that,” she finally manages. “i know, i know. it’s not exactly becoming to chase after a princess, but i couldn’t help it. i had to get a hold of you as fast as i could.”

another quick breath. a flutter of her eyelashes.

“a group of us are hosting a party tonight. it’s meant to be secret, a small gathering... but i was hoping you’d join us.”

Edelgard seldom walks without a stride to her step— Each move forward is purposeful. Refusing to look back, she must march on. She cannot afford to do anything but. Her head remains uplifted; untouchable. Her eyes piercing. Shoulders drawn back.

What is..— Dorothea?

The attention snaps itself away from endless thoughts as the visage of Dorothea presents itself rapidly in her view. It takes little observation to notice the pause in breath and the urgency in her actions. She instantly assumes there is trouble on the horizon— That the church has deepened its thorns and scratched their claws.

With relief, she is wrong. Tensed brows soften. "Oh? It's quite alright. A secret gathering, though..?" She repeats in question, bringing a hand towards her chin. "What sort of party, I wonder.. — Hm. There's no better way for me to find out than by attending, now is there?" As busy as she keeps herself, the tensed air has been sitting heavier than ever. "Perhaps this alone is proof I need momentary respite..," she mumbles and shakes her head. "Thank you for thinking of me."

She pushes her hair behind her shoulders and allows her crimson cape to follow suit. "I can hardly refuse after you went through all of this effort. I look forward to it."

[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.

[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...

[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   ❯

[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

[vvasilisa]

“ you wear sadness like the latest fashion ” / dorothea to ingrid

'  I... At least I'm keeping up with the latest tends ?  ‘ 

a jest, or at least an attempt of one. it sounds & feels like an open casket, it’s there; body, head to toe, but it’s empty / gone /  so half-assed.  smile cracked visage /  a statuette of flax & jade [honey & pears]  that jade is tarnished, & valkyrie depiction [such strength] will fade in this moment.  for that nervous beating  /  nervous / so nervous / that beating in your chest [a hollow case]  it shakes under this thunder /  this warning /  WARNING /  WARNING / warning of what aches.                      guilt. 

EVE;  THAT ACHING IN YOUR RIBS [did adam take back his rib?] or has it finally rotted, slow to digest in your gut.  that aching is near insufferable.  are you not crafted of ivory / mended of iron,  beauty inlaid with pride / such skill...  so why ?  why are you aching ?  have your clavicle snapped from unsureity / pressure to meet a father’s dwam for a family / for a girl. [a girl that had since died]  WAR WILL MEND  /  WAR WILL SETTLE  /  war was your savior & your killer; you held a sword  [how he once did]  you held a sword, you raised that sword ---   you impaled who you were again & again & again, & AGAIN. what remnants remained, you piece together; are you happy ?  

do want your father to be disappointed ? ‘  i’m joking -- I just have a lot on my mind is all.  ‘   a huff will clog your windpipe.   are you choking on her sentiments, are you choking at her oh so keen perception ?  she sings you like a song & reads you like a poem; attuned wit, how gentle fingers seem to always be strumming at your dissonance / your discordant tune. if you came undone... AH. worried, yet   you so at peace with your turmoil / the monster that you hide beneath your bed  / the beast you cannot slay -- no, too scared to fight. why does this demon hunger so, feasting at your doubts / masticating on a pending choice. [a choice]  you must fight or surrender -- but this beast, this beast,  you can't slay with a blade, you can’t use your hands  [you can't defeat it]  no matter how many swings you take [you are too weak.]  it does nothing.   

KNIGHTHOOD IS A VEIL that welcomed you with open arms; the only veil you felt you could take.   so much guilt.   there you are,  clinging to a sword like it will cast off those demons / her ( don’t look )   she sees right through this armor. to her, you are you -- denuded of that steel / steel / a steel blade you use to shield you --  your heart / fears you seem to cling to so.  does the image of a ring really look like a noose.  you swallow this guilt like pomegranate seeds, & they always tend to stick in your teeth / so irksome / unable to pick them out.  would she understand ?

WOMAN; does the armor you hide in, does it feel so heavy now...  her words are arrows, these arrows shoot / catch in the creeks of that steel / steel that clad a  girl.   & GODDESS, they splinter, always under your skin, far too deep to pull out, your nails can never dig them out.  these ghost pains / these ghosts; it’s so particular how lost will shape you, how it will pluck the pillars of servitude / innocence from skin, & oh, when you pull too hard, too sudden -- that passion will pour as mead / bleeding till you are depleted, & what will root itself, it will grow like weeds. & those weeds, you water them the more you age. the more you stall  /  a constant ebbing / a constant vacillating between knighthood & wifehood.   does a compromise exist ?   is a family name, being, a debt you feel you owe--  is a father’s [sacrifices] pride more valuable than your own ? 

  there’s always guilt.   ‘ but tell me, Dorothea, do i really look that sad ?   ’    do you really want an answer ? 

 〈 ——-/    meme      -/-  @writtenstars

[iced-coffee-and-imagines]

I feel like since Hubert is so devoted and protective of Edelgard that it would definitely transfer to his s/o once he’s fully committed to them. It’s probably hard for him to split his attention on the battlefield so I wonder if someone would maybe get hurt. *wink wink* It sucks when there aren’t any healers in range, you know?

Huh, that is a real shame, Anon. Hubert’s definitely devoted, but it would be hard for even him to keep up with two people during the thick of battle. Not to mention healers seem rather scarce in Adrestia. *sighs* Oh well

((Thank you for being so patient!! :’) ))

~Latte ♡

Hubert von Vestra/Reader - Divided Attention

The din of conflict was near deafening, the sounds of grinding metal and pounding hooves and shouting soldiers all you could hear

You pivoted, blocking an enemy’s axe with your shield before swinging your weapon, feeling it connect with its target

Quickly freeing it as the warrior fell to his knees, you stepped back, catching your breath as you surveyed the field

Your battalion fought around you, their numbers dwindling but holding against the Knights’ own. To your left you saw Caspar and Ferdinand, cutting down the enemy’s reinforcements; on your right was Bernadetta, nocking an arrow before quickly releasing it, a pegasus falling seconds later

The Knights had effectively separated the Imperial army, a large brigade forcing the generals apart from their leader; you and the other three were currently fighting to regroup with the remainder of the Strike Force

——–

Murmuring the remainder of the incantation, Hubert released the dark magic, serrated spikes impaling the paladin and his mount

He glanced over his shoulder to Edelgard only a few paces away; she swiftly cut down an enemy bishop, Aymr’s head twitching

Returning his focus to the advancing knight, he blasted them with another spell, heavy armor sizzling as its occupant screamed; it did little to protect against magic

Far to his right, Petra and Dorothea challenged a wyvern knight, weapons gleaming and tome shimmering in the fierce evening sun; Linhardt had fallen to the rear line, doing his best to keep as many soldiers on their feet as he could

He could not see his partner nor the remaining Strike Force through the throng of troops, both Imperial and Church; he called to his allies, clear and commanding, “Hold the line. Push them back against the other front they’ve so carelessly made. Reinforcements will arrive shortly. We’ll pincer them then”

——–

They were not prepared for enemy auxiliaries, however; fresh soldiers in brilliant white armor forcing both fronts to fall on the defensive and dividing the nine of you further

You cut through a brawler, only glancing briefly as he dropped to his knees before you turned and swung at another foe

You grunted as you felt your weapon connect with a thick, iron shield, the reverberation of the impact needling up your arm and shoulder

Wincing in both pain and exhaustion, you backed away, placing your shield in front of you; sweat stung your eyes as it slid down your face. The fortress knight was hulking, but nothing you could not handle

——–

Hubert swallowed as he caught his breath, his magic nearly depleted, if his waning spell strength told him anything; the Empire’s numbers still far outweighed those of the Knights, yet the opponent still refused to yield

He pulled the bow from its sheath on his back, nocking an arrow and releasing it into a pegasus, ivory barding catching the red of late twilight as it fell from the sky. Archery was not something he used often; but it was invaluable, all the same

He glanced around; in the chaos, he had lost sight of not only his lover, but of the other commanders, Lady Edelgard included

The dark bishop nocked another arrow, letting it cripple an approaching brigand, his damaged knee giving; satisfied, Hubert pivoted, trying to catch a glimpse of any of the Strike Force, his Emperor and partner especially

To feel the blazing pierce of a sword was not what he expected. He coughed, startled, before dropping to one knee, sucking in a sharp breath as its owner pulled the blade from his back, chartreuse eyes snapping shut

He faintly heard someone call his name, multiple people shouting; he laughed bitterly, If this is where I fall, so be it; so long as Her Majesty succeeds and they survive

——–

You paced the floor of the infirmary, stopping occasionally to glance out the window or at the pale figure lying motionless on the bed

You sighed, eyes traveling down the stature of your love once more; Hubert was lucky to be alive, Linhardt had told you earlier

Tearing your gaze away, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. The adrenaline of battle had shifted into anxiety, your pulse near-deafening in your skull

Fighting to steady your breathing, you returned to his side, sitting in the chair Lin had left near the dark bishop’s cot

You gingerly took his long, slender hand into both of yours; he was so cold

You took a few deep breaths, closing your eyes. Hubert would be fine; it would just take awhile for his body to recover fully

——–

He awoke sometime later, the afternoon sun piercing even through his eyelids

Scrunching his eyelids further, he groaned; a dull ache throbbed in his back and side

Feeling something warm enclosing his hand, the raven-haired male turned his head, letting his eyes slowly slip open

You sat in the wooden chair, dozing, your head tipped forward slightly. Hubert did not miss the bruise-like marks under your eyes; how long had he been here?

He blinked, adjusting to begin to rise from the firm cot under him, before hissing and quickly abandoning the attempt

You jolted at the noise, the grip on your lover’s hand tightening on reflex; taking in your surroundings, you relaxed, back slumping against the hard chair once more

You smiled sleepily as your gaze met his, squeezing his hand—now starting to feel alive again, you noted. Reaching over with your free hand, you brushed the wavy bangs away from his eye

He turned his head away from you, eyebrows furrowing; so many questions ran through his mind: How long had he been in the infirmary? Was Her Majesty alright? Were you? How did the Knight’s blade not kill him?

Reading his distress, you hummed, “Three days.” You paused until his visage tilted to meet yours, “You’ve been here three days. Her Majesty is fine, as are the other commanders. As am I.” You smiled then, letting your free hand skim through his hair, “The blade missed anything vital, miraculously. A couple more days and you should be good to go”

Hubert huffed, his eyes darting toward the ajar door, “I cannot afford to be here any longer. The war is in our favor; we cannot relent now”

“The war will, however, not be in our favor if you overwork yourself so soon. Her Majesty and the professor have been handling things”

Chartreuse eyes narrowed as they reconnected with yours; you had a point, however cheeky you were about its presentation

You rubbed patterns into the back of his hand with your thumb, “Rest, dear; I promise it’ll be fine”

He sighed again, relenting, “Very well.” His hand flipped to catch yours, lacing your fingers with his, tone impish, “Though I request you to rest as well; you look dreadful”

You barked a laugh, quickly hiding your mouth behind your hand as you cleared your throat. You grinned, winking, “Well, you don’t look much better”

The Minister snorted, careful to avoid aggravating his injury, “Regardless, thank you for standing vigil”

“You make it sound as if you’re dying”

He chuckled, a small smirk peeking at the corners of his mouth, “I don’t plan to, not for a long while yet”