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aziraphales-library · 2 years

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Hello!

Love all the recs you post here. I found a ton of new fics <3

A little question, do you have any fairy tail au fics? Already read 'The Rose and the Serpent', 'Give it a shot' as well as 'Angel in Cinders' but I would love to find more

~🌺

Hi. You’ll want to check out our #fantasy au tag which has a fair few fairy tale fics on it. Here are some more for you...

Fairest by lilliankayl (T)

(Snow White Retelling AU) Aziraphale has no memories of his father and very few of his mother. His father died when he was an infant and his mother remarried shortly afterwards. When his mother died just before his seventeenth birthday, his stepfather’s true colors were revealed. Now on the run and taking shelter from those who will help him, Aziraphale must never let the king find him, for it will surely mean his death if he is found.

The Scarecrow by AppleSeeds (M)

The last surviving member of his family, Aziraphale inherits a crumbling 14th century cottage from his uncle. Staying in the cottage to catalogue his uncle's collection of rare books, Aziraphale combats his loneliness by speaking to the scarecrow in the neighbouring field. He awakes one night to find the scarecrow in his bedroom, mouth torn open, speaking to him...

Crowley was cursed by a witch and turned into a scarecrow over five hundred years ago, but somehow Aziraphale's presence is changing him into something more human. While Aziraphale works to break the curse completely, the two of them spend a great deal of time together and find something special within each other, both discovering what it truly means to be free.

Our Arms Were Once Wings by Ecchima & RiYuYami (T)

“I’m… I’m going to be a swan, for the rest of my life?” He asked, in a quiet voice.

Crowley was still not looking at him, instead, he was scratching his neck and seemed to be looking towards the lake again.

“Not… exactly. Only when the sun is out.”

“What do you mean by that? Are you saying that I can be human again?”

“Only at night.”

A Good Omens Swan Lake/Swan Princess au with a bit of a twist.

Tail as Old as Time, Swan Song as Old as Rhyme by Kedreeva (T)

Deep in the countryside, surrounded by a black-mirror lake, sits an abandoned manor, long since victim to some kind of magical catastrophe. Nothing lives there, nothing living will come within a mile of it, save for the one strange, graceful black swan that swims the moat, guarding the derelict home from anyone that would intrude.

And for almost a hundred years, none have dared until Aziraphale unwittingly stumbles in, on the run from his family.

The Dragon's Scheme by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley isn't your average dragon. He prefers a more civilised life of drinking wine, collecting art and gardening. Also, he decided he would rather have a friend than spend a lonely existence terrorising faerie villages like dragons are supposed to do. Desperate for a companion, he hatches a surprisingly successful plan to get one.

But the relationship blossoming between him and his new friend, the faerie Aziraphale, has attracted unwanted attention. Gabriel, a travelling merchant who seeks the elevated status of a hero, is determined to "rescue" Aziraphale from Crowley's "clutches". And Crowley's clan, tired of his antics, would prefer to evict him from his home in favour of a more compliant dragon.

Crowley's clever little plan to get himself a friend might not be the only scheming going on. Gabriel's interests just might converge with the dragon clan's. That could spell trouble for the dragon and his faerie partner.

Villainous by IneffablePenguin (E)

Once Upon A Time…

There was a red-haired sorcerer who lived alone in a high tower. And a blond prince who lived in a palace full of people. And they were both of them desperately lonely.

The Kingdoms of Empyrion and the Sorcerers of Apollyon have hated each other for hundreds of years, ever since the Great War. They do not interact, other than to occasionally try to kill one another. And they certainly do not make friends.

Crow is an exhausted sorcerer who just wants everyone to leave him the hell alone: for the Sorcerer’s Council to stop harassing him to live up to his potential, and for wannabe Empyrion Heroes to stop attacking his tower to try and kill him. Until one day when he meets Prince Azra of the High Fells, who doesn’t behave anything like he’s supposed to…

Part fairy tale, part fantasy, all love story. There’s magic, and grand romantic gestures, and Heroes and a handsome Prince, and a Villain. There are even some wild heroics, though not necessarily from who you would expect. At its core it’s simply about two (relatively) sane people living in a mad world who find each other.

The smut isn’t until later chapters.

And I believe the three you mention in your ask are...

The Rose and the Serpent by Atalan (M)

AU, retelling of “Beauty and the Beast”. Quite honestly, sending Aziraphale off into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle isn’t even the worst thing Gabriel’s ever done to him, and at least it means a change of scene. But then neither the snake nor the castle turn out to be quite what he’s expecting…

Give it a Shot by walking_contradiction42 (T)

When Aziraphale, prince of Tadfield, gets captured by the famous outlaw Crowley he can only think of escape. But soon he discovers that Crowley and his merry people are much different from the stories told about them. Crowley absolutely despises all royals and the stupid inhuman taxes that are causing the people to live in misery. But he can’t help but feel intrigued by Aziraphale, who seems so different to what he expected. Okay and maybe he has the tiniest bit of a crush on him.

Or: The Robin Hood AU that nobody (except me) needed.

Angel in Cinders by ShesAKillerQueen98 (M)

(Good Omens Cinderella AU) Ever since Aziraphale's mother remarried, his life has been nothing but misery. Before she died, she told him to have courage and greet the world with kindness, even if it doesn't give him the same kindness back. Lately, Aziraphale has been finding it harder to follow that advice. But when the royal family announces a masquerade ball to celebrate the birthday of the youngest prince, who bears a striking resemblance to a mysterious young man he met in town, things go from bad to worse. All he wants is to attend the festival. But perhaps with a little luck, and perhaps some magic, he can find happiness.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fantasy au #fairytale inspired #mod d

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mizp-m-archived · 2 years

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STARLIT CLASS ROOM :

Lost , ‘Moonstruck’ and the difference between them.

Tetrarchs & Apollyon's

Unlike the last time silence is what meet the class, the blond haired apollyon felt like she had just aged several years when she shouldn't be able to age . She had a lesion plan dang it. Her silence continued until she pointed towards the wight bored.

Tetrarch

a governor of the fourth part of a province

a subordinate prince

A “tetrarch” is the remnants of an “oracle’’, it is said that they have no will of their own and are used by a “higher” being to cause disturbances in the world. The reason for this is unknown at this moment in time but the strength of an “tetrarch” is often said to give even the most experienced oracle a run for their money.

Apollyon

in Revelation, the angel of the abyss

the destroyer; the angel of the bottomless pit

If an “tetrarch” devours a “origin” they become “Apollyon's” and this can lead to reality distorting as the “Apollyon” bends the world to its will. Not much is known about “Apollyon's” and it is recommended that they are avoided at all costs.

"Okay class, due to some...miscommunication is important that you understand this. This isn't a game and under no circumstances do any of you try and risk your lives for a myth"

Her Blue hue's linger on one person specifically as she sighed, a somber sigh leaves her as she taps the table

" Tetrarch are nicknames the four lords and are often referenced as our worlds lords of apocalypse, but the number of Tetrarch vary on many things. It is said that four Tetrarch would serve under a single Apollyon in the days of old and that they are often the reason for the worlds changing seasons... the Tetrarch had many functions before...before the world faded and lost started to form "

" A Tetrarch now adays are nothing but danger, they bring about-"

The blond sighed as she picked up the papers she was given for her lector and burned them.

"......The Tetrarch are often called the children of the world and their main job is to prevent large scale fading's and Moonstruck events. The job they used to have was to bring about the changing of time such as daylight, seasons and foretell what events befell a soul....but they lost these ability's when the first apollyon died. "

"The first apollyon was was named ay-shi and it is said they were the earth , their hair the sky , their body the land and their tears and blood the water. They were the earth shaker , barrier of the sky and creator of life many would say they are god but many call this a myth... ay-shi was killed by their oldest child an Tetrarch who wished to be free of their tittle and be seen as an apollyon. In they Apollyon's dying moments they split apart their soul into a thousand peices and those peices were the first origins. "

"Apollyon's know adays are what you would call lesser gods, they have a fragment of the power Aisha's would have had due to them normally having say- a few fragments in their body's , natural born Apollyon's are closer to being a true Tetrarch"

Her gaze would turn towards the ceiling as she sighed one more time, how long had it been since she learned all of this ? How long since she seen the history her world destroyed. Estella took notice of all the horrified faces and decided to give them something else to think about.

"...Alrighty ~ how about some fun facts "

" The more fragments you consume the more ' monster like' you look, i know a man who ate a good few hundred he uh...well lets just say he has a long tongue know. Natural born Apollyon's have a high sex drive, eat a lot and even have a missive amount of magic, and because of this their body runs hotter then a normal person "

A cheeky grin formed as she tapped the table as the bell rang

"aw~ looks like were all out of time "

#🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * :: a new star that lights the sky for all to see :: (( world lore))#🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * :: i am real and the pretender :: (estella)#🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * :: i need a little light. just to get me through the night :: (ashe)#🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * : now leave an impression. and take your redemption: (( about ))#estella v.c im gonna murder that silver haired estúpido

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ssatxr-archive · 3 years

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@kaederoleplay liked for a starter with Apollyon!

Walking among mortals is something that will always shock the Demon lord to no end. Surprising enough, he’s surprised that he took the time to even disguise himself--a wolf among sheep. Even then, Apollyon’s face still resembled some of his more fiendish features--his eyes like slits and his teeth sharp as he walked with a smile.

Still, as much of an asshole he was, he wasn’t tone deaf. Distant yelling was something immediately grabbed his attention, so investigating it wouldn’t be a pain. The Demon worked swiftly, only to find two people: One of interest...and one of no interest. With a snide smile, we walks up to the two in effort to break up whatever is going on.

“Hey!”

#rp #kaederoleplay #{ Prince of Nothing | Apollyon }#{ 👋 hi!! thank you for liking my starter :D }#{ I tried making it as vague as I could so you could choose any muse you want }

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wordsintimeandspace · 2 years

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A Family Affair

On their way to find a carnival, Polly, Yaretzi and Mort find a strange building surrounded by vines. When things go south, Polly has to face the danger inside it on his own in order to save his family.

A Polly posse fic, around 3900 words, written for the Hauntiversary. Read on AO3!

The end of the world, Polly had to admit, could be quite dull. Maybe it was the monotony of walking south for weeks, aimlessly searching for a carnival he wasn’t sure still existed, but he had grown tired of the sights along the way. Desolate cities, long abandoned and nothing more than a collection of ruins after all these decades, cracked highways slowly reclaimed by nature, overgrown forests and fields as wide as the eye could see, occasionally sporting a faded billboard by the side of the road that advertised the nearest fast food joint or tourist attraction or other pleasures of a life long forgotten. He was a bit sick of it.

Maybe that was why, when they stumbled across the ruin in the forest, he agreed to have a closer look. Something was different about this place, compared to the ruins of the ghost town they’d just passed. Polly hadn’t yet decided if that was a good thing. Somehow it felt more alive, even as it reeked of death. But it was a bit of variety in their long journey, so Polly didn’t protest as Mort curiously approached the ruin.

It was a large stone building with columns lining the entrance and a domed ceiling that stretched high into the sky, even surpassing the treetops of the surrounding forest. Broad stone slabs paved the way towards it, cracked and withered with age. The most curious thing about it, however, were the vines surrounding the whole building.

The vines had grown as thick as Polly’s thigh and sported thorns as long as his hand. They encircled the whole ruin, wrapping around the crumbling columns, filling in cracks in the walls and blocking the entrance with a dense mass of roots and tendrils. The hinges of an old iron gate peeked through them, long rusted through.

“What is this place?” Yaretzi asked as they carefully approached. Mort was a few steps ahead of them, trying to peer through the thicket crowding the entrance.

Polly frowned, looking up the arched doorway. At the top, there was a symbol engraved in the stone, but it was nothing he recognized. “I’m not sure.”

“I can’t see inside,” Mort announced, sounding disappointed. He turned towards them, hydraulics hissing.

Yaretzi immediately fell on all fours, fur spreading down her arms, and darted off to circle the building. It took just a moment before she emerged from the other side.

“There is no other entrance,” she said, quizzically tilting her head. “The plant blocks the only way inside.”

Polly hummed, tapping a finger to his chin. “It’s like the fairy tale,” he mused. “Sleeping beauty.”

Mort looked at him, eyes bright in the murky water inside his dome. “What’s a fairy tale?”

“It’s a story that humans tell each other. Something magical. In this story, the princess is cursed to sleep until the prince finds her castle surrounded by thorns, fights his way inside and kisses her to break the spell.”

Beside them, Yaretzi huffed. “That is an abominable tale. I would bite every stranger’s head off if they try to kiss me while I’m sleeping.”

Polly smiled. “Well. I don’t think you’d make a good princess anyway, Yaretzi. No offence.”

“None taken.” Yaretzi grinned, showing a row of very sharp teeth.

“Besides, if any of us would be part of the story, I figure it would be me as the prince,” Polly mused.

Yaretzi barked out a laugh. “You are not a prince, Apollyon.”

“No?” Polly raised an eyebrow at her as he adjusted his tie. “I think I would look rather dashing in tights and a ruffled collar. Besides, I did wake Mort from his slumber.”

Mort’s skull jumped in his dome. “I’m not a princess,” he protested. “I want to be the prince.”

Polly laughed. “You can be the prince if you want.”

Mort’s eyes lit up in delight. “We should see if there’s a princess inside,” he said, raising his claw towards the thicket blocking the entrance.

“Wait-” Polly started, but by the time the warning left his lips it was already too late. Mort’s claw cut through the sturdy vines like they were nothing but grass, and all hell broke loose.

In an instant, the previously still and lifeless vines turned into a writhing mass. Something alive, and something angry. One tendril shot out to wrap around Mort’s arm, keeping his claw place. Mort cried out in alarm, jerking against the restraint.

Yaretzi suddenly was all wolf, a mass of black fur and sharp claws as she lunged forward with a growl. The tendril twitched as she buried her teeth deep into its flesh, but didn’t let go of Mort. Instead a second one shot out from the thicket, aiming its thorns straight at Yaretzi’s flank.

Polly cursed under his breath and raised his cane just in time, drawing a wall of fire between Yaretzi and the plant. The tendril jerked back from the flames, but it didn’t give them more than a few seconds to breathe. From the corner of his eyes Polly saw more vines curling in a circle around them, ready to strike.

With gritted teeth he stumbled closer to Yaretzi and Mort. Polly raised his cane once again, and struck the tip down onto the ground. A ring of fire erupted from it, a sudden explosion of light and heat. The flames surrounded them before shooting outwards, and for a few seconds the blinding heat was all Polly could see. Then it died down as quick as it came, leaving nothing but charred remains of the approaching vines in its wake. Behind him, Mort let out a cry of triumph as he pulled his claw free. Polly breathed a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t over yet.

The vines were already regrouping, curling closer in the distance, and when they struck this time it was too quick and ferocious for Polly to keep track of what was happening, let alone react. By the time he realised the vines had not chosen him as their main target, but were closing in on Yaretzi once again, it was already too late.

Polly didn’t see how the thorns struck her. All he heard was Yaretzi’s cry, an excruciating sound that froze the fire in his chest. He whirled around, and for a moment he couldn’t see what was wrong, the wound hidden by her thick, black fur, even though the fear in her golden eyes was enough to send him into a panic. And then the wolf within her receded, fur and claws and teeth pulling back into her body until she was just a small brown woman with a terrifying streak of red coating her side. Their eyes locked, and for a second everything seemed to stand still. Then she collapsed, and the chaos of the fight returned with a vengeance.

“Out!” Polly cried, raising his cane once more. “Mort, get her out!”

A burst of fire erupted from the tip of his cane, burning a path through the writhing vines. Mort wailed Yaretzi’s name as he scooped her up into his arms, and stomped through the corridor Polly had created. Gritting his teeth, Polly turned back towards the creature. He just needed to hold it off long enough to get Yaretzi to safety.

He sent another burst of fire towards the point where the vines were coiled most densely. The fire hit the thicket with a burst of light and heat, and Polly squinted as he took a few stumbling steps back from it. Parts of the plant fell away, burned to nothing but ash, and slowly something emerged from the flames. Polly froze as he realised it was a face.

Embedded into the thicket of vines and thorns was a skeleton. Green lights burned bright and angry from its empty sockets. It looked old, withered to nothing but bones that were only held together by the vines engulfing its body. There was a hole in its chest where the ribs had cracked, and a piece of worked stone had filled the gap. It bore the same symbol that had been displayed above the arch of the entrance. All of a sudden, Polly understood.

A family crest.

He lowered his cane, hesitating to launch another attack. His opponent, however, did no such thing. Immediately the vines were on him. A tendril wrapped around his legs, sweeping him off his feet in an instant. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ground.

“Wait,” Polly gasped, burning tears blurring his vision, but the creature didn’t hesitate. It lunged for his hand this time, thorns burying into his skin until Polly cried out and couldn’t hold on to his cane any longer. It was ripped from his grasp, leaving him empty and cold and powerless. Only now did the vines slow their assault. Polly managed to roll out of their grasp, pushing himself upright.

“My cane,” he cried, but he only saw the tip of it before it disappeared into the thicket of thorns. Desperately he stumbled towards it, but the vines rose again, threatening to strike. Polly stopped. He didn’t stand a chance, not like this. And there were more important things right now. He wiped the fire off his cheeks, chest heaving, and fled.

It wasn’t hard to follow where Mort and Yaretzi had gone. Mort had left heavy footprints in the soft ground, and soon Polly found them, Mort crouching on the ground with Yaretzi in his arms. Mort’s skull jumped in his dome as Polly burst through the thicket.

“Polly,” he cried. “Yaretzi is hurt.”

“Let me see,” Polly said, dropping to his knees beside them. Yaretzi was breathing hard, face contorted in pain as she clutched her side. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed over, but she looked at him at the sound of his voice.

“Apollyon,” she gasped, and Polly shushed her gently.

“I can help. Please.” Carefully, he moved Yaretzi’s hand aside to examine the injury. He hissed as he saw the blood still gushing from the wound. Oh, this was bad. But hopefully not too bad to fix.

Polly took a deep breath. He gathered the fire in his lungs, the same power that allowed him to knit his own flesh back together whenever injured, and let his flaming breath run over the wound. Yaretzi’s skin glowed as it repaired itself, the bleeding slowing just a bit, but it wasn’t enough. The wound was too deep, and his power too weak without his cane. The fire burned out before the job was done.

“Dammit,” Polly cursed, desperate tears welling in his eyes. What good was he, when he couldn’t hold on to the power that protected them all?

“Polly?” Mort asked, sounding small.

“I- I’m sorry, I can’t-” Polly stopped himself, taking a trembling breath. He needed to stay calm. It wasn’t too late yet. There was still a glimmer of hope. “I need- I need my cane.”

Yaretzi frowned. “Did… did the creature take it?” she managed to get out.

Polly nodded, gently cupping her cheek as he met her wide, fearful eyes. “Yes. But don’t worry. I’ll get it back. It’ll be just a moment.” He took off his jacket, bundling up the fabric and pressing it against the bleeding wound. Yaretzi let out a pained gasp. “Mort, hold on to this.”

Mort did as he was told, and Polly pushed himself back to his feet. “You- you can’t,” Yaretzi protested. “You can’t fight it. It’s too powerful.”

“Oh, I’m not going to fight. I’m going to talk.” Polly gave her a smile, desperately hoping it wouldn’t show the terror coursing through his veins. He took a deep breath, and stepped into the void before Yaretzi could get out another word.

He emerged inside the ruin.

For a moment it was quiet and calm, and Polly took in the crumbling dome above him and the thick, thorny tendrils of the plant permeating the walls like veins. He let out a breath. Dim light fell through countless cracks, enough to illuminate the empty space within. Enough to confirm his suspicions about this place.

It took just a moment before the creature noticed him. The vines trembled before spurring into motion, circling closer to him. Polly held up his hands in surrender, trying to stay calm as the tendrils painfully wrapped around his limbs and chest, lifting him up into the air.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he called out, voice echoing within the chamber. “Not you, and not the ones you are protecting. Please, I just want to talk.”

The vines around his limbs stilled, but didn’t ease their grasp. Another mass formed right in front of him, a thick bulk of tendrils and thorns that finally revealed the skull within. Green eyes flickered in the dim light, watching and waiting for him to speak.

Polly gulped. One wrong word and the creature could tear him apart. But it was his only chance to help Yaretzi. “Thank you,” he finally started. “I- I need to apologise. My… companions and I didn't mean to hurt you or disturb this place.”

“Companions?” the skeleton finally spoke, in a low, rumbling voice. “Is that what they are to you?”

“I-” Polly’s voice wavered and he stopped himself, taking a deep breath before he continued. His chest stung, if from the thorny vines encircling him or something else he couldn’t say. “Family. They are my family. And I’m trying to protect them. You know what that feels like, don’t you?”

He looked past the creature towards the middle of the chamber. There, raised a few steps above the floor, were three stone coffins. Two of them looked unharmed, withered with age but otherwise intact. The other was cracked, the lid smashed by what looked like falling debris from the ceiling. Polly didn’t need to look inside it to know it was empty. Its inhabitant was still silently staring at him, green eyes flickering a little brighter after what he’d just said. The stone engraved with the family’s crest was still lodged between its ribs. Probably once a part of the casket, Polly thought. He was sure the other tombs would wear the same symbol.

“Is that not what you are doing here?” Polly continued softly when the creature didn’t speak. “You keep this place from crumbling, stabilizing it with your vines as best as you can. You guard it, to keep the black rain and everyone else out, so that your family is safe in their final rest.”

“They do not deserve the same fate as I have to bear,” the skeleton finally said. “They deserve the peace one finds in slumber.”

Polly let out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”

It was impossible for the skeleton to show any emotion on its face, but it flinched at his words. “What do you want?”

“I want to do the same as you. I want to protect my family. And I-” Polly’s voice cracked, and he took a steadying breath. “I do not have the power to do so without my cane.”

The light in the skeleton’s eyes flashed. It suddenly moved towards him, faster than humanly possible. Polly yelped, bracing himself for the impact, but it stopped inches away from his face. “Your cane?” the skeleton hissed. “You used it to hurt me.”

“That’s not all it is,” Polly managed to get out, voice unsteady. “It stores power. I can use it to fight, but I can also use it to heal. It’s the one thing that brought me back to my family when we were separated.”

“I don’t have any reason to help you.”

“I know. I know, but… I understand how difficult it must be, to be separated from your family like this. Especially when being apart is the only way to protect them. If you could spare someone that fate, wouldn’t you do it? If you could reunite me with my family and help me protect them, wouldn’t you at least consider it?”

The skeleton tilted its head, considering him carefully. Seconds ticked by, slow and agonising. Polly’s mind flashed back to Yaretzi, blood trickling from the wound in her side that was bad enough that every second mattered. "Please,” he tried again, voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. “I would do anything. I- I wish I could offer something in return, but I don't think I have anything you desire."

Finally, the skeleton pulled back. "Your humility will be enough,” it rumbled. “That, and respect for this place."

"O-of course." Polly let out a breath of relief, and finally, the vines encircling his body set him back onto the ground. Polly fell to his knees, trembling, and wiped the fire off his cheeks. The vines moved in the background, finally bringing forth his cane from the thicket. The skeleton picked it up, regarded it for a moment, and then threw it in Polly’s direction. Polly caught it, heart jumping at the power prickling beneath his fingers.

“Thank you,” he breathed out and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t wait for an answer. Space folded around him - one second he was in the dark of the mausoleum, and in the next he was back with Mort and Yaretzi.

Polly froze as he saw Yaretzi, pale and still in Mort’s arms. Fear constricted his throat, but then her chest slowly rose and fell as she took a breath. With a relieved laugh, Polly fell to his knees beside her.

“Polly,” Mort cried and looked up at him. “Yaretzi will not wake up.”

“It’s alright,” Polly soothed him, and held up his cane. “I’ve got what we need.”

Carefully, he moved Mort’s hand and his blood-soaked jacket aside to reveal the wound in Yaretzi’s side. Polly let out a long breath, and called for the power inside the cane. Fire gleamed at the tip as he did so, and Polly gently moved the flames over the wound. He held his breath, silently praying that he wasn’t too late.

Yaretzi’s skin glowed under his touch, gleaming golden and red in the evening light. It took a long, excruciating moment, but finally the flames died down, and when Polly moved his cane aside, there was only soft, unbroken skin beneath. He gulped, and finally allowed himself to hope as he cupped Yaretzi’s cheek. After a few seconds, her eyelids fluttered.

Polly smiled. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he sang.

Yaretzi let out a low groan, stretching with a wince without opening her eyes. She settled back down in Mort’s arms, and leaned into Polly’s touch.

“I was right,” she finally muttered.

Polly blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You are no prince. You didn’t do it right.”

It took Polly a moment to realise what she was talking about. He laughed. “You did say you’d bite my head off if I would kiss you while you’re asleep. I’m not taking that chance, Yaretzi.”

A smile played on Yaretzi’s lips. “I’m not asleep anymore, Apollyon.”

“Fine!” Polly huffed, and leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. When he pulled back, Yaretzi was looking up at him, golden eyes sparkling. “Happy now?” he asked, unable to keep the smile off his lips.

Yaretzi grinned. “Yes.”

“Are you alright, Yaretzi?” Mort asked, still hovering next to her.

Yaretzi gave him a smile. “I’m fine, Mort. Just… tired.”

“We should rest for the night,” Polly said, pushing himself upright. “I’ll find some wood for the fire.”

“Polly.”

He stopped at Yaretzi’s voice, and turned to see her standing up on trembling legs.

“I’m…” Yaretzi began, hesitating for a moment. Then she lunged forward, with more speed than humanly possible, and wrapped her arms around him. She let out a long breath against his collarbone. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Polly said softly. He blinked away the fire pooling in his eyes and returned her embrace, holding her close as night approached. Relishing the wonder that she was alive, and that he got to keep this, at least for the moment.

~~~

The next morning, clouds hung low in the air, promising rain later in the day. Mort insisted that Yaretzi should sit on his shoulder as they continued their journey, and Yaretzi didn’t put up much of a fight. She still looked tired, even after spending the night sleeping soundly curled up against Mort’s chest.

As usual, Polly hadn’t slept. He’d been thinking. And he’d come to the conclusion that there was one more thing he needed to do before moving on.

“I don’t want to go inside,” Mort said as they stood in front of the ruin once more, looking up at the crumbling dome encircled by thorny vines.

“You can wait here. I’ll be just a moment,” Polly said.

Yaretzi frowned down at him from her perch on Mort’s shoulder. “Are you certain it’s safe?”

Polly gave her a smile. “Absolutely. No need to worry, I promise.”

The vines parted for him this time, allowing him inside the ruin. Polly gulped, but didn’t hesitate as he stepped into the dimly lit space. The skeleton was waiting for him, sitting on its cracked grave. It looked up as he approached, the fire in its sockets shining green light across the rough stone.

“Did the cane give you what you need?” it asked, voice rumbling.

Polly smiled. “It did. Thank you.”

“What are you doing here, then? Is your family not waiting for you?”

“Oh, they are. Just outside. I just… I wanted to say thank you. And I thought of something to repay the favour, as best as I can. If you’d let me?” Polly raised an eyebrow in question, and lifted the cane to his chest.

For a moment, the skeleton considered him carefully, before it finally gave a nod.

Polly grinned, and his horns burned bright in the darkness as he raised the cane over his head. Fire erupted from the tip, shooting up in a straight line before it exploded across the dome and engulfed the ceiling. The ruin glowed as Polly worked, power crackling beneath his fingertips. Slowly and carefully, he moulded the stone like molten glass, mending cracks and fissures and gaps until finally the fire died down. Left behind was a dome as sturdy and impermeable as it once was, hundreds of years ago.

Polly smiled. It was dark now, with no light falling through any cracks, but the skeleton’s eyes still burned like a beacon in the darkness. Polly knew his eyes looked the same, a flicker of orange in the darkness to match. “There,” he finally said, content with himself. “That should keep the black rain out, for maybe a couple of centuries. You can have a bit of a break until then. No need to stand guard at all times. There is still peace in this desolate world, and I hope you find it.”

He turned to leave, and was already at the doorway before the skeleton spoke up again.

“Did you?” it said, and Polly turned to look at it. It had moved to stand beside one of the other coffins, resting a hand on the lid.

“Mh?” Polly asked.

“Find peace. In this world.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, and turned to where Mort and Yaretzi were waiting for him in the distance. He smiled, and finally stepped out into the light. “Against all odds, I did.”

#hello from the hallowoods #hfthw #my fic

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jesterden · 4 years

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Introducting: Celestial Eclipse

Remember when I asked about a July event rewrite a little while ago? Well, after the abomination that was Wenet coming out as a furry, I decided I’ll deliver and bring you guys the introduction of my newest lore project, Celestial Eclipse.

It’s a rewrite of the July event, and I’m mostly doing it for fun, because I don’t like Apedemak’s nasty incest deal. His entire character is just evil, and it... doesn’t work? The only reason to choose him is for his items. So instead, he’s being rewritten. The core conflict is still Apedemak vs Apollyon, but the reasons are very, very different. They’ll each get proper character introductions, but this is just a general introduction to the story.

“And when The Eclipse matures, she will have a choice to make. To bring peace and prosperity to the kingdoms... or to tear them apart.”

The prophecy shakes the foundations of the celestial species as a whole. The Lunar Empire and Solar Republic adopt a quick policy. Their political marriages, their unions of their lions, are to stop immediately. The Spaceworld, however, they are intrigued. They watch with peeled eyes, looking at every move the two kingdoms make.

However, no one notices the Solar Princess Tefnut sneaking out at night, meeting a dark, handsome lion. No one notices the starlit walks, where he brings darkness over them. And no one notices where the Lunar Prince Apedemak goes during the dusk, only that, by the time day rolls around, he’s exhausted. They don’t notice the way the stars seem to shape themselves into hearts, or two stars being moved close together.

No, no one notices a thing. Not until Tefnut is of marrying age. Not until she refuses a partner, saying that if her father didn’t need one, then neither does she. The true meaning is revealed when they force her to the Earth, taking her to that damned bat, and it speaks words. “She’s pregnant! I hear one little heartbeat!”

They don’t act. Not until the cub is born. Tefnut speaks nothing of who the father may be, but it’s revealed by her pale coat. The warm undertones mark her as a Solar Celestial, but the pale gray...

Apedemak steals his lover and daughter away in the dusk. He abandons his people, and Tefnut abandons her’s. Of course, search parties are sent. Spaceworld mercenaries are hired, by both kingdoms. The order is always the same. Kill the cub, bring them back to their homes. And they never come back. Maybe the mercenaries run off with the money, but when the first burned husk is found, one that looks very similar to Apedemak, it becomes clear. The runaway royals, they’re as good as dead.

The Kings and Queens of the kingdoms grieve, but they give up their search. The cub with the power to end it all, or bring a new age, is forgotten. She doesn’t matter, not anymore. A dead cub can’t change anything, after all.

And that’s how the story goes. Until the banished Spaceworld Prince Apollyon comes to Earth, looking for refuge, and he, instead, finds a lioness that doesn’t look like she belonged to any specific kingdom. But he realizes, when a gruff Lunar lion tells her to leave, and she calls him father (despite the warmth in her coat), that he may have just found something. He may have found his key back to the throne.

He may have found the Eclipse.

#lioden #lioden lore #ld celestial eclipse

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eyreguide · 5 years

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Jane Eyre’s Library

The novel Jane Eyre is full of literary references, allusions, and quotations that enrich the story and showcase how well-read Charlotte (and consequently Jane) was. This post highlights those literary references and gives a bit of context for each work that might help illuminate their use in the book. I have done my best to note all instances where Charlotte references a literary work (not including references to historical events) but I probably missed a few. If you know of any I missed and the particular quote, please let me know!

I thought it would be interesting to start this post with Charlotte’s recommendation of books to read to her friend Ellen Nussey. Charlotte was eighteen when she wrote this letter. I can’t say I was as well-read at her age!

“You ask me to recommend some books for your perusal; I will do so in as few words as I can. If you like poetry let it be first rate, Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope (if you will, though I don’t admire him), Scott, Byron, Campbell, Wordsworth and Southey.” (letter dated July 4, 1834):

The Bible: I must acknowledge that there are many references to Biblical passages and characters in Jane Eyre but I have decided not to list them here, as it would be a lot of work. It’ll be something I’ll save for a future post.

Greek and Roman Mythology: Another omission are the references to mythology throughout the novel. Something else I’ll save for another time.

History of British Birds by Thomas Bewick

“Where the Northern Ocean, vast whirls, Boils round the naked, melancholy isles Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.”

A History of British Birds is a natural history book, published in two volumes. Volume 1, "Land Birds", appeared in 1797. Volume 2, "Water Birds", appeared in 1804. The quote is from the second volume.

Pamela or Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson

Referenced in the novel as being one of the stories Bessie tells young Jane. Published 1740, Pamela was is an epistolary novel and was a best-seller in it’s time. But the story about a young maidservant who endeavors to resist her employer’s advances and ends up marrying him in the end, was a controversial novel at the time.

The History of Henry Earl of Moreland by John Wesley

Also called The Fool of Quality this is another novel that Bessie (probably more appropriately) tells stories from to Jane. It follows the life of Harry Clinton and his attempts to better his lot. There are frequent intervals in which the author offers philosophical digressions and commentaries. The final two-volume set was published in 1781.

History of Rome by Oliver Goldsmith

“I had read Goldsmith’s History of Rome, and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, etc.”

Originally published in 1838, this is a definitive work on the History of Rome.

Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift

”Bessie asked if I would have a book: the word book acted as a transient stimulus, and I begged her to fetch ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ from the library.”

Gulliver's Travels, or Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World. In Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships is a prose satire of human nature and the ‘traveller’s tales’ literary subgenre. It was an immediate success when published in 1726.

The History of Rasselas by Samuel Johnson

“I could see the title - it was ‘Rasselas;’ a name that struck me as strange, and consequently attractive.”

The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia, originally titled The Prince of Abissinia: A Tale, though often abbreviated to Rasselas, is an apologue about happiness, published in 1759. The story is a philosophical romance with similarities in theme to Voltaire’s Candide.

The Arabian Nights

”That night, on going to bed, I forgot to prepare in imagination the Barmecide supper of hot roast potatoes, or white bread and new milk, with which I was wont to amuse my inward cravings”

The Arabian Nights is a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales and is also known as One Thousand and One Nights. The stories have been collected over many centuries but they are all framed by Scheherazade telling these stories to her husband, the King. In one story Barmecide invites a beggar to an imaginary feast. Also, Mesrour is the name of an executioner in the book.

The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan

“He may be stern; he may be exacting: he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon.”

The Pilgrim's Progress from This World, to That Which Is to Come is a 1678 Christian allegory. Greatheart and Apollyon are characters in this work. It is often cited as the first novel written in English.

"La Ligue des Rats" by Jean de la Fontaine

‘Assuming an attitude, she began ‘La Ligue des Rats: fable de la Fontaine.’

This French poem was first published in 1692. Jean de la Fontaine is famous for his Fables and was one of the most widely read poets of the 17th century. Read the original tale in French here.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare

‘Yes - “after life’s fitful fever they sleep well,” ‘ I muttered.

“She stood there, by that beech-trunk—a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres.”

Macbeth was first performed in 1606 and dramatizes the physical and physiological effects of political ambition. The first line is a reference to Macbeth’s words concerning the dead Duncan. And the second refers to the three witches in the play.

Bluebeard by Charles Perrault

”I lingered in the long passage to which this led, separating the front and back rooms of the third story: looking, with its two rows of small black doors all shut, like a corridor in some Bluebeard’s castle.”

“Bluebeard” is a French folktale, the most famous surviving version of which was written by Charles Perrault and first published by Barbin in Paris in 1697 in Histoires ou contes du temps passé. The tale tells the story of a wealthy man in the habit of murdering his wives and the attempts of one wife to avoid the fate of her predecessors. An interesting example of foreshadowing from Charlotte. Read this fairy tale here.

Francis Bacon’s Essays

‘I see,’ he said, ‘the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain; I must beg of you to come here.’

This is in reference to a proverb that has been traced to Francis Bacon’s essays: “Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people assembled: Mahomet called the hill to come to him again and again: and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit abased, but said, “If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.”

It is unclear if this is a true legend of Mohammed or an English invention. The Essays were published in 1625.

"Fallen is Thy Throne" by Thomas Moore

“Like heath that, in the wilderness, The wild wind whirls away.”

I could not find a publication date for the poem, but the poet Thomas Moore lived 1779-1852. The poem these lines are from is about the fall of Israel. Read this poem here.

Duncaid by Alexander Pope

“Yes, just as much good as it would do a man tired of sitting still in a ‘too easy chair’ to take a long walk; and just as natural was the wish to stir, under my circumstances, as it would be under his.”

The Dunciad is a landmark mock-heroic narrative poem published in three different versions at different times from 1728 to 1743. The poem celebrates a goddess Dulness and the progress of her chosen agents as they bring decay, imbecility, and tastelessness to the Kingdom of Great Britain.

Paradise Lost by John Milton

This pale crescent was ’The likeness of a Kingly Crown’; what it diademed was ‘the shape which shape had none.’

“Some natural tears she shed’ on being told this, but as I began to look very grave, she consented at last to wipe them.”

Paradise Lost is an epic poem with the first version published in 1667, and the second edition in 1674. The poem is about the biblical story of the fall of Man with the temptation of Adam and Eve in the Garden. The first quote in Jane Eyre concerning Jane’s paintings is a direct echo of the description of Hell in the poem: “If shape it might be call’d that shape had none/ Distinguishable... What seem’d his head/ The likeness of a Kingly Crown had on”

The second quote describes Adele’s disappointment at not joining the party and is inspired by the line about Adam and Eve departing Eden: “Some natural tears they dropp’d”

Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare

“Rise, Miss Eyre: leave me; “the play is played out.”

Twelfth Night, or What You Will is a romantic comedy, believed to have been written around 1601–1602 as a Twelfth Night’s entertainment for the close of the Christmas season. The play centers on the twins Viola and Sebastian, who are separated in a shipwreck. This is believed to be the source of the above line from Jane Eyre.

The Scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

“She never did so before,” at last said Bessie, turning to the Abigail.

“In the servants’ hall two coachmen and three gentlemen’s gentlemen stood or sat round the fire; the abigails, I suppose, were upstairs with their mistresses; the new servants, that had been hired from Millcote, were bustling about everywhere.”

The Scornful Lady is a Jacobean era stage play, a comedy first published in 1616, the year of the author Beaumont's death. It was one of the pair's most popular, often revived, and frequently reprinted works. The term abigails, meaning ladies’ maids, comes from a character named Abigail in The Scornful Lady.

King Lear by William Shakespeare

‘There, then - “Off, ye lendings!”

King Lear is a tragedy where King Lear decides to leave nothing to his honest, third daughter who refuses to flatter him like her two sisters have done. It a story of human suffering and kinship. The first known performance of the play was in 1606.

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare

“It’s a mere rehearsal of Much Ado About Nothing.”

Much Ado About Nothing is a comedy and thought to have been written in 1598 and 1599, as Shakespeare was approaching the middle of his career. In Shakespeare’s time the word “noting” (which sounds close to “nothing”) meant gossip and rumor which is what leads Benedick and Beatrice into falling in love, and Claudio into rejecting Hero at the marriage altar. Mr. Rochester uses that quote above to indicate to his guests that nothing is wrong.

The Turkish Lady by Thomas Campbell

”It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four: -- ‘Day its fervid fires had wasted,’ and the dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit.”

The poem’s author, Thomas Campbell, lived from 1777-1844) and the poem “The Turkish Lady” is about a captive English knight who is visited by Eastern lady who releases him from captivity and he takes her away as his bride. A fitting reference given that this quote is used in the chapter where Rochester proposes to Jane. Read this poem here.

A Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare

”Is this my pale, little elf? Is this my mustard-seed?”

A Midsummer Night's Dream is a comedy written in 1595/96. It portrays the events surrounding the marriage of Theseus, the Duke of Athens, to Hippolyta, the Queen of the Fairies. Mustardseed is one of the fairies in the play.

King John by William Shakespeare

’I might as well “gild refined gold.”

The Life and Death of King John is believed to have been written in the mid 1590s and dramatizes John, King of England, who ruled 1199-1216. The quoted phrase is but one of several examples of “wasteful and ridiculous excess” in the play.

"Bonny Wee Thing" by Robert Burns

“Yes, bonny wee thing, I’ll wear you in my bosom, lest my jewel I should tyne.”

A 1791 poem (also written “The Bonie Wee Thing”). This poem has also been set to music. Read this poem here.

Lay of the Last Minstrel by Sir Walter Scott

”Looked to river, looked to hill.”

Published in 1805, Lay of the Last Minstrel is a long narrative poem in which an aging minstrel tells of a sixteenth-century border feud between England and Scotland.

The Robbers by Fredrich Schiller

“‘Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehen wie die Sternen Nacht.’ Good! good!” she exclaimed, while her dark and deep eye sparkled. “There you have a dim and mighty archangel fitly set before you! The line is worth a hundred pages of fustian. ‘Ich wäge die Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms.’

This quotes from the first drama by playwright Schiller, published in 1781. The story revolves around two aristocratic brothers, Karl and Franz. Franz is beloved by his father and Karl plots to wrest away his inheritance.

A translation of the lines:

Da trat hervor Einer, anzusehen wie die Sternen Nacht. - One stepped forward to look at how the night was filled with stars.

Ich wäge die Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms. - I ventured the thoughts in the shell of my wrath and the works with the weight of my ferocity.

Lalla Rookh by Thomas Moore

To live amidst general regard, though it be but the regard of working people, is like “sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet;” serene inward feelings bud and bloom under the ray.

Lalla Rookh is an Oriental romance, published in 1817. The title is taken from the name of the heroine, the daughter of the 17th-century Mughal emperor Arangzeb. The work consists of four narrative poems with a connecting tale in prose.

Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field by Sir Walter Scott

“Day set on Norham’s castled steep, And Tweed’s fair river broad and deep, And Cheviot’s mountains lone; The massive towers, the donjon keep, In yellow lustre shone”—

Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field is a historical romance in verse of 16th-century Britain, published in 1808. It concludes with the Battle of Flodden in 1513.

"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Coleridge

The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all; and to “burst” with boldness and good-will into “the silent sea” of their souls is often to confer on them the first of obligations.

“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” is the longest major poem by the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written in 1797–98 and published in 1798 in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads. Read this poem here.

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #Literary Allusions #Literary References #Literature #Books

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lexacourtney · 5 years

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Hey Jen!

I can’t believe I’ve been reading Jen’s books since 2012. I remember the first time I ever met her – it was in Boonsboro at Turn the Page (Nora Robert’s bookstore). I honestly can’t remember if my friend and I went up for Jen, or for Nora, but I know we both left with copies of Obsidian and Half-Blood. My mom was heading up to Frostburg (Maryland) for a high school reunion and luckily Boonsboro is on the way, so we managed to convince her to take a detour for this signing.

Upon arriving at my grandparent’s house, my friend and I promptly sat down and started reading. I don’t remember which book I started with – probably Obsidian because my friend insisted that we read the same book at the same time.

From then on, I was a fan. We were fans. We scoured bookstores on and near release days for the next books and they were always read instantly. At the time, our local Books-A-Million always had our most anticipated books out a day early and we always bought them. (This was well before either of us were aware of release week sales and how they impact making best seller lists) We were avid readers and had found a new favorite author.

I’ve been a fan of Jen’s books since a Senior in High School – I’ve been reading them for quite a long time. Her stories often feel like coming home. I know if I pick on up, there’s like a 99% chance that I’m going to enjoy it. Her books are often the ones to get me out of reading slumps.

Since Jen is semi-local, I’ve been fortunate enough to see her at a bunch of events – from the Baltimore Book Festival, to launches, conventions and her own creation: Apollycon.

My friend and I went to the first one in Philly in 2015 (I think), and then to the fourth and fifth ones in D.C. in 2018 & 2019. And I’m going again next year, 2020!

(Pic – left: 2018, right: 2019 with Drew Leighty and Jennifer L. Armentrout and my bff / I definitely prefer 2019’s pic more)

Apollycon is always fun – you can see my recap of 2019 here! I always enjoy going and seeing Jen and all the other amazing authors. I usually have bruises on my shoulders by the end of the weekend. But even if Jen were the only author there, I wanted to see, I’d still go. I’ll support Jen and her books for as long as she’s writing. I love them and her so much.

(Pic – left: 2018, right: 2019 with Drew Leighty and Jennifer L. Armentrout / I definitely perfer 2019’s pic more)

I’m fortunate to consider Jen a friend and any way I can support her, I will. I remember finding her books. I remember how the light filtered through curtains as I laid on a bed at my grandparents and fell in love with her characters. I remember the anxious anticipation for the next book in her various series and showing up to each event with new copies of her books for her to sign. I love her characters, her stories, her worlds and I will read and reread them for forever.

I’ve been reading and supporting her for years now and I love doing it. I love promoting her work and getting people to fall in love with Daemon, Aiden, Seth, Luc, Roth, Zayne and the various other hot, swoon-y love interests she’s created over the years. I mean, who doesn’t want hot and snarky alien neighbors, or Greek God descendants with kick ass powers or a Prince of Hell and his Gargoyle opponent? She writes anything and everything and has you wishing that these characters were real.

Let’s finally jump into the reason you probably clicked on this post – the books! I’m going to be eternally broke if Jen’s books keep coming out with revamped covers, because I need them all. All these books currently occupy almost an entire shelf (minus 3 spots). It’s a long shelf too, like 6 feet and basically a shrine to Jen’s books.

I thought I had a lot of Brigid’s books…Jen’s occupied 2 bags and it was beyond difficult to carry both down the stairs. I managed, because there was no way I was making more than one trip. I also fought my glasses trying to slide right off the end of my nose the entire time. Setting them up on the banister and trying to fit them all in and have them look good was a challenge as well. It’s funny how, on a shelf they don’t look as numerous, but the minute you take them off and stack them up, it’s glaringly evident.

A quick run-down of Jen’s books – (This is going to be anything by quick, but here we go!)

Phew. Typing them all out also puts the number of books she has into perspective. I don’t own every single one of her books. Besides the de Vincent books and the Anthologies (not a fan tbh) I’ve read everything else. I opted to post a screen grab, over actually typing them out in WordPress because this post would have been a mile long otherwise.

Okay, I’m going to start with my favorite, the Covenant Series! Here I have pictured the original paperbacks (bottom),then the new paperbacks with the gorgeous covers – I still need to buy the rest of the series (middle). Then I have the UK edition of Half Blood (purple spine) and finally the Titan Books. These aren’t necessarily part of the Covenant Series, but they’re a direct spin-off!