#i will forever love retellings of old stories

[monzabee]

mr. big (social media au) - cs55

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, your boyfriend, Carlos.

Pairing: carlos sainz x romance writer!reader (model used: random people i found on pinterest)

Warnings: none other than some cursing? carlos being an old money dream as always

Request: "For a smau, would love to see romance writer!reader with Carlos (he is just Disney prince vibes) where fans aren’t quite sure how they got together but the influence him on her work is greatly appreciated" by my lovely @percervall

Author note: OKAY JUST REALISED I AM A CARRIE AND BIG APOLOGIST, WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT (i might be freaking out about them, but i will always be a charlotte girl)!!! (might honestly turn it into a series because who doesn't love a satc x old money crossover???)

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, readersdigest and 438,927 others.

yourusername: busy, busy, busy bee.

user: thank you mother for feeding us with another hot billionaire novel

yourusername: you are more than welcome

user: how is she not only one of the best romance authors, but also a fashion icon??

user: can't wait to read what carlos inspired this time!!

carlossainz55: you are not wearing you glasses again, cariño

yourusername: why don't you come put them on yourself??

user: oh, they are so cute it's sickening

user: GIVE US THE MANUSCRIPT AND END OUR SUFFERING

view all 2,387 comments.

user: how did they get together again??

user: i think he ran into her at one of her book signings in madrid?

user: i thought it was when she went to the paddock for some good old r&d?

user: i heard somewhere that a friend set them up

yourusername posted a new story!

carlossainz55 posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, goodreads and 682,928 others.

yourusername: life lately & "between love and loathing" out june 23rd.

user: we love the romantic getaway, and a new book!!

user: we're being fed in more ways than one, and i am not complaining at all!!

user: oh shit, we're about to read the best romance novel of all time

view all 13,726 comments.

carlossainz55: i'm so proud of you, you have no idea

yourusername: way to make me cry

yourusername: i love you though

carlossainz55: te quiero más

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ARE THE OLD MONEY COUPLE WE NEEDED ALL ALONG AND WE DON'T KNOW HOW THEY STARTED DATING

user: it will remain forever a mystery

user: but at least we have content to keep us going through these hard times

carlossainz55

Liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 977,520 others.

carlossainz55: one of us made the pancakes, and one of us stood there looking pretty.

yourusername: hey, it was your turn to make breakfast

carlossainz55: and i loved every second of it

yourusername: even doing the dishes?

carlossainz55: especially doing the dishes

user: this is by far the most romance book thing this man has done

user: i still don't understand how they started dating, but good for them i guess

view all 35,726 comments.

landonorris: hey, i didn't get any pancakes, did you? @charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: didn't even know we were having pancakes, where are our pancakes @carlossainz55

landonorris: and cooking in a towel?? how is that sanitary??

charles_leclerc: he's breaking at least a dozen health codes

carlossainz55: i hate you both

yourusername: you are all a pr nightmare

scuderiaferrari: i agree

user: damn he got lucky

yourusername

Liked by f1wagss, carlossainz55, sarahjessicaparker and 736,928 others.

yourusername: and there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, carlos sainz.

user: SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

user: what kind of an iconic cunt slay is this

user: and just like that... they became the coolest couple on the internet

user: NEW NOVEL IDEA, SEX AND THE CITY RETELL WITH CARLOS

user: girl wtf

yourusername: no let her cook

yourusername: you might be onto something here

user: don't know if i want to be her or be carlos

view all 44,736 comments.

user: everybody say thank you mom for blessing us

carlossainz55: amor

yourusername: amor x2

user: oh she's working overtime god bless you

[smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou]

It’s going to be a fic and some of the characters may seem under developed at first it’s because I want to build them and not have them confined to “helpless princess” or whatever lmao

Belle: Astrid

“Beast”: Hiccup

Gaston: Eret son of Eret

LeFou: Gustav

Miss Teapot: Heather

Chip: Dagur

Chadswick: Tuffnut

Cogsworth: Fishlegs

Belle’s Friend: (hear me out) Snotlout

(O/c?) Castle Staff: Ruffnut

Before you ask, yes I can explain them. (And am open to constructive criticism)

———

So the main ship would be hiccstrid and while hiccup isn’t a “beast” per say the difference is,

“the chief had made a horrible mistake. He had tried to cut down a light fury. She was freyja in disguise and cursed all the riders (except Astrid and snot loud tbe later) as kids to be trapped in a castle (where they befriended dragons) until someone could learn to love a dragon AND the chief’s son genuinely…” (not the light fury trying to get hiccup a date lol)

snotlout is the best friend and only friend of Astrid and he likes hearing her tell him stories and they protect each other like siblings! Especially against Eret son of Eret, the self proclaimed “promised child” of berk. Man picked up a sidekick (Gustav) and is trying to get Astrid to marry him lmao

also the relationship between heather and David would be brother and sister, not mother and son.

the second ship would be a bit of a slow burn rufflout that comes to fruition by the song “evermore” or “tale as old as time”

the village plot is to “kill the beasts” they’re after all the dragons in the castle but mainly Hookfang and toothless because of their species…

I chose cogsworth for fish legs for obvious reasons, being very smart and mistrusting of Astrid and her nature at first but eventually warming up to her.

and tiff it as Chadwick…. I mean COME ON! Man is dramatic as shit! Also the whole “be our guest song with him singing it is just… *chef kiss* (ha I’m funny)

oh and valka is kinda x-x

but hey! She can still talk to him! Through a life sized mirror!

I’m also thinking about giving Eref a last minute redemption arc at the very end… when a certain rumblehorn saves his life…

so anyway… that’s my idea lmao

oooo i love that idea actually, the riders just getting trapped in a dragon-infested castle while astrid and snotlout try to figure out what is going on

also my boy eret being a bit of a cocky bastard with gustav running around behind him is so funny to me (I hope u go with the idea of a redemption arc cos he really would need it lol)

this has a lot of interesting ideas to play around with especially for all the character dynamics (ahhhhhh I cant wait for the dynamics (can you tell))

im really excited for this now i cant wait for you to start posting it :)))))

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: The First Branch, Belle, Nice and Airy How Does a Moment Last Forever (music box), No Matter What,

art credit goes to Marbipa

this au is very heavily inspired from the 1991 movie, 2017 movie, and the musical, some things will seem similar and at times different, some parts of dialogue will be familiar, however it's for the sake of the plot. to summarize, this is basically a retelling of the story. I hope you guys enjoy!!

also let me know if you want to be on the taglist!!

<< prev. | ch.2 >>

Warnings: brief mention of character death, slight misogyny

word count: 1.9K

summary: life as the inventor's daughter

Chapter 1 : The Village

In a small province, east of the castle, there was a small village called Arachna,

This village is quite unique on its own as there are many people of different personalities, Men go to work and get an education and the women stay at home to learn how to be housewives and tend for children. Reading was considered wrong for women to read…Men didn’t want them to develop ideas or think for themselves and only solely focus on the children… However…At the edge of the village, at a small house lived an old inventor, he knew how to fix clocks, create music boxes, and most importantly invent. He would slave the day away just tinkering and figuring out new ideas on how to make life more comfortable and convenient, he proposed his ideas constantly to the villagers to help them make their lives a bit easier, but alas…the villagers called him a loon and demented for frivolous ideas. He would go home dejected, but his greatest pride and most precious invention would be at home; Y/N…

He had raised y/n all on his own after his wife passed away when y/n was 5. To his precious daughter, He promised himself that he wouldn’t shun her from her curiosity and instead showed her all there is to know. Y/N learned how to read, write, speak, analyze, and even sing a little, all due to her father’s promise that he made to her dying mother and to his daughter. Eventually, Y/N grew to be a lovely and beautiful woman. She’s kind, compassionate, loving, and even imaginative. She even has a huge affinity for reading and especially having a bit of a collection of books at home. 

You may wonder, what is Y/N’s life like at her village

well it goes a bit like this…

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A rooster crows in the distance, as the sun rises, signifying the day to begin..

Y/N has woken up and looked at her book beside her bedside table and smiles “well now...time to return this to the bookstore” she says softly to herself. She opens her curtains and opens the window, smelling the morning dew from the fresh air. Y/N gets dressed in her favorite blue dress, tying her hair in a low ponytail with a ribbon and walks downstairs to cook some breakfast for herself before leaving. She puts her book in a little basket and walks out and heads for the village. “Any moment now…before I hear-” she gets interrupted by the waking village “BUENOS DIAS MI GENTE” 

Y/N rolls her eyes as she sees the empty streets quickly fill up with people with errands and work to do. She smells fresh wheat from the bakery, and she smiles as she thinks how the baker always sells his bread right on time. “Ah, Buenos Dias Y/N” the baker says. “Oh Buenos Dias, señor”, The Baker looks at her and smiles and asks, “where are you off to?” Y/N smiling and excited to tell him says “Oh I’m going to the bookstore! I just finished reading this amazing story about an ogre, a donkey, and a cursed princess-” she gets interrupted “oh that’s nice. OYE MARIA, LOS BOLILLOS” he ends up yelling to his wife in the bakery. Y/N shrugs and moves along her day.

The villagers see her and start whispering amongst themselves, they gossiped about how she would always read, always having her nose stuck in a book.However, they could all mutually agree that despite her odd personality, she’s truly a sight for sore eyes, a truly beautiful woman who sadly knows how to think. 

Y/N arrives at the bookstore and opens the door, the bell on top of the door chiming, announcing her arrival. “Buenos Días señor ! vine a devolver el libro que me prestaron” she says handing the book back to the salesclerk with much care. The salesclerk laughs “ Already? Y/N my dear, it's only been since yesterday.” Y/N who was already on the ladder searching for another book looked down at him sheepishly “yea, well I couldn’t exactly put it down…” Her hand lands on a familiar blue book, she pulls it out of the bookshelf and hands it to the salesclerk “I’ll borrow this one !” The salesclerk looks at the title of the book and shakes his head, amused by her antics “you’ve read this book almost 2 times already, are you sure you want this book again ?” he says, while helping Y/N down the ladder. “Well I can’t help it, faraway places, tense sword fights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise” 

The salesclerk chuckles and hands her the book “well if you like it so much it’s yours...” Y/N holds the book in her hands in excitement “I-I… are you sure?” she asks hesitantly. “I insist, please take it” he tells her. “Well then thank you, thank you so much!” Y/N leaves the bookstore happily, immediately opening to the first page.

While Y/N is in the distance walking with her new book, next to a tavern there is a strong, tall, blone, handsome brute of a man, checking himself out in the mirror, making sure that his looks are impeccable. “BEN! I caught your uhh…whatever this bird is, oh and some girls told me to tell you you’re an amazing hunter” says a shorter looking pudgy man to him.

“Why thank you Eddie for reminding me how perfect I am,” Ben says. Eddie nods as he pretends to agree with his own statement. “I bet that not even a beast or girl can handle you,” he says, feeding the man’s ego. Ben looks down at Eddie and grins “oh and that’s true as well, but my next hunt is that one over there” he says pointing at Y/N. Eddie looks at him a bit appalled and says, “the inventor’s daughter?” Ben then inhales and goes on a tangent “Why yes, Eddie…she’s the one I’m going to marry, the most beautiful girl in town. As soon as I met her, I knew that I have to make her my wife, a handsome man like me and a gorgeous woman like her are meant to be together” Eddie agrees with him reluctantly as he sees Venom speed walk to catch up with her.

Ben goes through a bustling market in order to reach Y/N who is easing her way through the crowd despite reading a book. “Please let me through” he said exasperated, not wanting to let Y/N out of his sight. Eventually he does finally reach her by climbing the roof of a house and landing right on his feet like the man he is. “Hello, Y/N” he says as his eyes scan her from head to toe. “Hola, Ben” she says in response while still focusing on her book. ben then smirks and quickly takes the book away from her hands to get her attention. 

“Ben, por favor give back my book” she says politely. Ben ignores her by butting in her way and flipping the pages in the book “How do you read this… there’s no pictures…” 

“Well if you read books then you would know that some people have something called an imagination” 

Ben looks at her and throws the book somewhere as he tries to charm her “well Y/N, I believe it's finally time for you to stop reading books and pay attention to more…attractive things, like me” he says. “The whole town talks about it. It’s not proper for women to read...besides women thinking means they develop ideas and start assuming things” he says with a bit of a grimace on his face. 

“Ay, Ben you’re so antediluvian.”

Y/N then reaches down to pick up her book and wipes the dirt off with a handkerchief. She turns around to keep on going back home but is stopped by Ben yet again as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, mentioning how she should join him at the tavern so that they could talk and bond. “Oh, but I can't. I have to go help my father, goodbye now” she says, as she walks away as fast as her feet can take her away from the brainless man.

A few minutes later after speed walking, Y/N sees smoke coming out of the basement and rushes there quickly. “PAPA!” She opens the basement door to let out the smoke and searches for her father “ay papa, que paso? estas bien?” she asks as she helps him get up from the floor “Ay Hijita, I'm fine... I just can’t get this piece of metal to start working” Y/N chuckles and kisses her father’s forehead “papa you always say that when you’re frustrated… Besides, if you get this to work… you can finally go to the contest and win that prize you’ve always wanted.”

Her father thinks for a while and nods “ you’re right…i shouldn’t give up, i’ll get a patent on this and i’ll finally be Mauricio, the greatest inventor ever seen!” Y/N smiles and hugs her father before leaving to let him finish his invention. “Oh right, papa did you…” she looks at him with a knowing look “yes I did mijita, it's upstairs at the kitchen table.” Y/N nods and dashes up inside the house and speeds to the kitchen. She stops when she looks at the table and smiles fondly. It was her mother’s old music box…now fixed after so many years…

Y/N sits by the table and winds up the music box and hums along to the melody being played remembering the lullaby her father used to sing to her before going to sleep as a child. She then looks up and sees her father smiling at her, enjoying the melody as well. “Papa…do you think i'm..odd ?” she says softly to him. Her father raises an eyebrow and sits beside her “y a donde sacaste eso??”

“People talk papa…” she says looking to the side. “Solecito…they talk about me too, we’re not odd at all…” He brings his hand to her shoulder to console her “you’re my daughter…and you’re mother’s daughter as well, They’re the common people and you…you’re unique Hija. No matter what you do I’m always on your side ok?” Y/N smiles and chuckles “are you sure that’s just not you being biased?” Her father laughs and shrugs “Maybe…maybe not…don’t ever change who you are, ok?” Y/N smiles and nods “ok papa” A few days later, Y/N’s father was finished with his invention and had prepared the wagon, placing some food, medicine, horse fodder, and his invention all neatly placed inside the wagon. As he adds the saddle onto Felipe’s back, placing the reins properly on the horse’s side. He then looks at Y/N and smiles “Hijita…what do you wish for me to bring back for you? Shall it be jewelry, or dresses, or new perfumes?” Y/N thinks for a minute and says, “A rose, like the one mama had embroidered on her dress” He chuckles “But, you ask for that every year. Y/N smiles as she looks at her father “and yet every year you’ll bring it...” “Fine then, you’ll have my word, adios por ahora y/n” he says as he gently caresses his daughter’s cheek. “Adios Papa...” Y/N would watch her father ride up the hill into the distance. 

“Stay Safe...”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression 

[bones4thecats]

How Did They Meet Their Singer! S/O?

Type of Writing: #4 - Poll Result Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, and Eoel Felmier Name: How Did They Meet Their Singer! S/O? Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: In Vil's part, the story I mentioned in completely fictional, basically was something I made up on the spot, and I also mentioned songs after the piece of a characters that I can see them singing with their S/O!

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👑 Vil is a famous person within Twisted Wonderland, and, due to his standing, he was getting many different offers for some movies that were going into production

👑 One stood out more than others, it was the retelling of an old book series that his father used to read to him all the time as a kid, The Apple of the Roses

👑 This story was kinda like a fairy-tale, with its own twist, that being the main character turned out to be the real villain of the story, and it just felt nice having himself be offered such a role, as the supposed 'main antagonist'

👑 He knew there was going to be singing, as it was specified as a musical-re-telling, so, he also expected his character's love interest to be a grand singer themselves

👑 But, when it was announced that you, the newest addiction to a mass of rising singers, was set to be his love interest, he suddenly really wanted to meet you and start practicing, which was not normal for him

👑 When you stood in front of him, dressed up all nice while maintaining the most polite expression you could muster, he was quite taken-aback, normally people are super on-edge around him

👑 Well, everyone besides that damned Neige

👑 Vil set his headphones on his ears as he watched you do the same across the glass panel, laying the sheet of lyrics on the stand as you adjusted the microphone to fit your needs, and he cleared his throat and nodded his signal to the people viewing

👑 He'd be lying if he said he wasn't shocked when he heard you sing your lines, your honey-coated voice swapping between powerful and soft like nothing

👑 Oh, he was going to enjoy making this more than he thought...

Mount Rageous ~ Link Rewrite the Stars ~ Link Close ~ Link I Don't Wanna Live Forever ~ Link

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🏹 He was first introduced to your music when he joined Pomefiore, and Vil was speaking about his new friend in the industry, a singer by the name of Y/N L/N

🏹 Rook listened intently as Vil spoke about your talent, about how your voice could vary based on the tone and loudness of the music being played, and Rook was very much wanting to meet you and hear your voice

🏹 Not just by some app on his phone, but by a real-time show

🏹 So, when Vil decided to have Rook go with him on a small trip during Spring Vacation to watch him perform and record with you, he jumped up and pledged how amazing this was and honored he'd be to see the most fair and the fairest-voiced in the land in the same room

🏹 You walked inside and hugged Vil, asking how his time at Night Raven was and he answered with an polite 'well' and he introduced you and the hunter to one another

🏹 He put you off at first, with how blunt and lovely his compliments were. You, obviously, had many admires sending letters to your apartment, but, hearing how genuine his were, you got flushed

🏹 Vil smiled and lightly grabbed your hand, telling Rook to ready his ears, since recording was going to start soon

🏹 There was a small glass panel separating you and Vil from one-another, and, when you started the beautiful melody with a soft undertone while Vil was strong, his eyes sparkled

🏹 He heard you over the many apps that the students of Pomefiore would play, and he knew your voice was amazing, but, to him, it was far better in-person

🏹 Rook must speak to you about this later on! But, for now, he can enjoy himself in humming alongside you and his housewarden

Beauty and a Beat ~ Link Beautiful Mistakes ~ Link The One That Got Away (Duet Ver.) ~ Link You Are The Reason (French Ver.) ~ Link

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🍎 Oh boy, he was super confused when Vil asked him if he knew who was singing a song

🍎 Epel was just walking around, doing his, in his opinions, stupid lessons, when Rook ran into the room while playing one of your newest songs, which was a mixture of country and pop

🍎 He just stood there and answered with a solid no, and Vil face-palmed lightly, as to not damage his flawless skin, and he ordered for Rook to call you

🍎 This poor boy just wants a day off from these idiotic situations, please great seven send him to his farm for a day

🍎 You answered the call of Vil's and smiled, greeting your old friend, asking him what he needed, in which he answered with a classic 'someone wanted to talk to you'

🍎 Cocking an eyebrow lightly, you chuckled and told him to show you whoever wished to speak to your lovely self, and hearing that, Epel began to hide his face out of embarrassment

🍎 Of course, he had heard about you from his first year friends, Ace and Deuce, but he had never really dug into anything to find out who you were exactly, he grew up listening to pure country music, give him a break

🍎 You gave him a smile and a sweet-sounding hello, in which he stuttered lightly before eventually gaining confidence to ask you some questions that were 'appropriate' for the moment, at least in Vil's eyes

🍎 Epel looked through the screen and into your eyes, noticing how you were looking up every few second, and he noticed you were in a recording booth, that was when he asked if you were about to record a song

" Oh! Yes, actually I am rehearsing to sing my newest song; The Apple of my Heart. Would you like to watch and listen? You can if you want, I don't wanna pressure you! "

🍎 His eyes widened in curiosity and he answered with a yes, allowing you to nod and lay your camera down, pointing to you and your headphones snugly held onto your head and you gave a thumbs up to your live-audience and began singing

🍎 Holy hell-raising of a bad harvest, your voice was amazing! He could listen to you all day!

🍎 Before you could hang up and get back to work, you asked for his number and wrote it down as he said it, and you promised to give him a quick message, after all, he seemed really fun!

🍎 Oh, what has he gotten into now...?

Hold You ~ Link Never Say Never ~ Link Thank God ~ Link Meant to Be ~ Link

[junosmindpalace]

FOR YOU, FOREVER AGO

🎧 take a piece of my heart and make it all your own.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: arthur, and the notes he leaves in the books he gifts you. who could have figured love can transcend time?

content: established relationship, reading, reading and some more reading (together), soft and playful love, fluff with some angst at the end (arthur's death mentioned). reader is briefly said to be wearing a chemise.

a/n: i said i wouldn't write him again and here i am. writing him again. because this game has taken up so much of my writing headspace...

There’s an old saying that Arthur has heard retold in various different ways, and it went along the lines of “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.”

It derived from Proverbs 16:27: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” something he later found out upon overhearing the phrase from the Reverend’s mouth during one of his rare sermons. Arthur doesn’t believe much in any sort of sacred text, but he could, to an extent, believe in that phrase. 

It’s a belief Dutch and Miss Grimshaw hold in especially high regard, and their incessant nagging to do away with him loitering about in the camp proved that. And while he agrees that it is necessary for everybody to do their part, Arthur spends much of his time out involving himself in all kinds of tough and weary business, and like anyone else, sometimes the enforcer needed a break. 

Though it seemed so to quite many people, Arthur’s mind was not solely fixated on his life of crime. Like many other people he was a man of love, who enjoyed reveling in Mother Nature’s beauty, and memorializing its likeness in his journal in gorgeous detail, too. He enjoyed lingering in on conversations that took place around him; mundane things like about rumors and town happenings, though they weren’t always pleasant. And above all else, he enjoyed being around you. 

Scare was the time to enjoy such leisure with your responsibilities, however. Often, he would return to camp well into the dead of night or during wind down time you had permitted for yourself (because Lord knows Grimshaw wouldn’t) to entertain your mind. Borrowing from the collections of books around camp was one of few forms of amusement you relied upon for some sort of satisfying stimulation.

Arthur couldn’t help but sometimes be jealous of this. To enjoy the leather cover of a book against his fingertips and the patches of sweetgrass and lavender enclosed around him like a makeshift bed was a luxury he could rarely afford. Yet still, he found ways to incorporate his own amusement to look forward to when he did have the off time to enjoy it.

The habit, at first, was a means of compensating for his long absences. It was almost his way of giving you a piece of his heart to hold to your chest, fill your mind, make your own with your wild imagination while he was away for sometimes frightening days at a time. 

Arthur provided you with literature of all sorts, from dime novels to hardcover books, when he encountered them on his travels. Mythology retellings, exaggerated tales of the fictionalized Wild West, dramatic historical fiction with royalty, castles, and dragons, and the sort of philosophy books Dutch enjoys reading passages aloud from that critique civilization. Each one, though unique in content, held a message with consistent love that made your heart swell and your lips stretch into a pleasant smile at the intent behind them. 

Couldn’t resist. 

Thought you’d like this one. 

All my love. 

Thought of you. 

For you to enjoy when I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time. 

It's late when Arthur finds time to enjoy the stories with you, propped up on his side in the while his other arm is draped loosely around your waist as you lay in the same position, holding the book the two of you were enamored with in one hand. The firelight illuminates the pages for him to read from over your shoulder, his fingers brushing over your stomach and arms absentmindedly as he immerses himself in the world along with you. 

“This gentleman sure is a character.” 

“Ain’t he?” you snicker, taking the comment as an indicator to turn to the next page. “Almost reminds me of someone.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he raises a brow at you, observing your expression with a tilt of his head.

“Nothin’ at all.” you hum innocently, pretending to fix your attention back onto the pages. He catches your bluff when he teasingly curls his arm around your waist and presses you closer against his chest, invoking a squeal of laughter from you as he ruffles your chemise. 

“Just turn the page.” he chuckles with a slight shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, but when you meet his playful gaze with one of your own, any further teasing dies on his tongue as his breath becomes lodged at the sight of your glow in the firelight. 

“Okay.” you tut with a raise of your brows, resituating yourself and leaning further into his grasp, to which he responds by hugging you closer. 

When your time wasn't spent under the stars, it was in your tent. Accompanied in your shared bedroll was a book from a marketplace stand you had picked out together when scouting around town. One of Arthur’s hands holds it on his stomach with his fingers at the bottom, while his other holds your shoulder soothingly. You lay your head over his heart, listening to its steady pulsing, and following the small text with tired eyes to lull you to sleep. 

Sometimes he read to you, when your eyes grew too heavy to look up at him, and your brain was too exhausted to form coherent enough thoughts, let alone conversation. He'd read with his free hand, voice gradually becoming husky with thick exhaustion of his own the more he read on. 

“Why’d you stop?” you murmured to him as you lulled you head up to look at him, briefly slipping into fuller consciousness when taking note of the absence of his voice amidst the evening chill.

“Thought you’d fallen asleep,” he replied, rubbing a hand up and down the side of your arm before planting a kiss on your forehead. You only shook your head.

“A little more?”

Arthur peered outside through a crevice in his tent to the pitch black, redirecting his attention back to you with a sigh. “Alright. But only a little.”

Sometimes you read to him, when he returns to the campsite with his brain scrambled from the hat and madness of his travels, and longs, almost on autopilot, for your presence and an extended period of rest. With his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, legs tangled on your sides and head snug against your stomach, you propped up one of the books you had borrowed from Mary-Beth, a romance that you could always rely on to knock Arthur out, with one hand, while the other carefully threads through his locks of brown hair.

“That sounds like a nice place to live, don’t it? In a house with a white picket fence and a beautiful garden.” You had asked him quietly one of those nights, looking down at his still figure, who merely hummed in response against your stomach. “Maybe outta the country.”

“And go where?” he replied drowsily, peering up at you through small eyes.

“I don’t know…surprise me.” you teased, and Arthur chuckled.

“Maybe someday, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss on the fabric of your night wear, letting out a sigh as he adjusted himself against you again. “Maybe someday we’ll go somewhere real nice.”

Amidst ever changing lives—periods of transition and transformation and hard feelings and new hopes and dreams—you made sure to often revisit his little notes kept in between the first few pages of a book picked out with you in mind and written with all the care you had to offer to one another. Nights apart we’re spent tracing the loving words with your eyes, running a nail through the loopy font. It reminds you that you lay under the same stars, the both of you wishing to reunite sooner than later upon one of the billions that twinkled in the sky. 

When Arthur had passed under the dying night sky, the menial, but important, declarations of love became lost to you. 

Focusing on anything outside of survival seemed impossible afterward, and the grief was all too fresh and thought consuming. Most of the time was spent rebuilding your life to the best of your ability, something not quite what you had envisioned in hopeful late night conversations with Arthur, but more bare minimum. No beautiful porch with a nice garden, no homey furnishings. Only a simple bungalow with a creaky bed and a bag of few possessions you managed to snag in your abrupt departure.

At the bottom of the bag one day, you find something, no, many things, you had not laid your eyes upon since before the hope of a new dawn was extinguished within you. 

It had been the first time you had felt an urge to be productive. For most of your days were spent in melancholy and anxious paralyzing thought that kept asking, what’s next?

You held them in your hands carefully, turning them over before opening them curiously, only to have your breath hitched when your eyes landed on the front.

Couldn’t resist.

You scrambled for another.

Thought you’d like this one.

Another, and then another. All of them until the reminders brought you to tears.

All my love.

Thought of you.

For you to enjoy while I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time.

The rest of the night became dedicated to remembering all that you once had, and that you were once determined to have. Reading stories that always seemed as fantastical as your dreams of a sweeter life, perhaps where they even derived from. The inspiration and hope they fuelled gradually returned with each memory you recounted of your shared dream with Arthur.

He had given it to you in the end. Taken you some place nice, even if he wasn’t there himself to enjoy it with you. He’d given you a piece of his heart all those years ago, and you made it your own. Given you the resources—just enough money and a whole lot of love—to help you realize a life you always wanted. He was there; in the blooming flowers, in the magnificent dawn and dusk, in the pages of books you held carefully between your fingers. And you’d remind yourself of it every night with a trace of your fingers over his scrawled messages of adoration.

return to masterlist.

[rinbowaman]

heelel trying to rizz his wife would be cute

*ahem*

Warnings: some spoilers if you haven’t read the Se7en series. Finger play, nipple play, loads of fluff, some factual and fictional retelling of Biblical events…try not to fall in love with the Devil.

“What are you doing, darling?”

He creeps up from behind, admiring the curves of your body seated gracefully, dressed in a sheer beige dress. The fabric was entirely see-through, allowing him to observe every detail of your form. Before you is a propped portrait of an old painting displaying Eve and the deceptive snake, the Devil. Your husband.

“I found this old painting, it was slightly damaged and faded so I wanted to fix it.”

He leaned and bends down to rest his chin on your smooth shoulder. Observing the painting in question, he chuckles against your skin upon seeing it. “Huh. The old forbidden fruit story.”

He leaves his wording short as he places a kiss on your collar bone, and scoots the fine delicate strap of your dress aside with his tongue. With your shoulder completely bare, he coats it with his saliva. Running his tongue along the outline, he traces the tip all the way up, just below the lobe of your ear. “Are you always going to taste this good?” He jests as he snickers a grin into the nook of your neck. It too, made you chuckle subtly. He had his moments.

It has been over a year since you’ve been held captive, with the acceptance of belonging to the devil. you’ve remained in your station as his queen and bride, although it wasn’t that hard to stay committed, after all, he took very good care of you…such great care. You literally were treated like a Goddess.

True, initially his manner of making love was, and continues to be some times, brutal and demonically aggressive. But the one thing that remained forever intact behind the ugliness of his acts was the love and loyalty he had for only you…that is why you were here in the first place.

“Is it true?” You hinted a nod toward the painting of Eve and the Snake. He stands straight and walks over to his throne, casually seating himself in his usual manner. It starts with a wide manspreading of his legs, loosely crossing one over the other while a wide gap still remains between his thighs, exposing the outlining bulge of his crotch beneath his black trousers. His white collard shirt is lined in the edges with lace while the black suit coat seals in the Victorian fashion, showing off a gentleman’s appearance.

He often switches between silver and black locks, yet always opting to flare the latter while in the comfort of his own home, Hell.

“It depends what the Bible states, although—“ he sighs out a breath as he raises his brows and continues to speak softly to enlighten you. His tone always softened with you…only you.

“A lot of the scriptures were made up by man, I doubt a lot of the events told are in full truth…some not even true at all.” He playfully taps his fingers on the arm of his throne as he smirks, intrigued by the deception of mortals over the years.

“Why would they lie and make up stories?” You inquire as you look him in the eye.

He chuckles once more as he returns the stare. “To feel like they have a sense of control over ungodly creatures—such as myself, my brothers, and…you.”

“Im not ungodly.” You insist faintly, nearly whispering it only for him to gently cut in. “Oh but you are. You definitely are. The moment I kissed you back to life, and brought you here, you’ve become no different from us.” A sly smile births from his lips as he adds on to his statement. “It was meant to be.”

You knew he was right, but tried to remain in denial to salvage whatever was left of your humanity, if it was even there to begin with. Going back to the topic, you inquired more about the story of Eve. “So is this one true?”

His eyes shift over to the painting as he halts his finger tapping. They move back over to you, piercing into your soul with their black coloration, yet never losing that adoration he had for you. He merely nods in response.

“Why did you do it?” You ask gently, not wanting to provoke or trigger his anger, seeing as the past was a sensitive topic, according to his brothers. Yet, he always insisted that you would have nothing to be afraid of. He always spoke how you had the luxury that most don’t, not even his own brothers, and that he would always be open and transparent with you. That was one of the foundations that proved his love for you, just one of them. So you took advantage in certain moments such as this, relying on his word that he would always be in control of his emotions, and instead, feed you the knowledge and facts through his tongue.

“In my lifetime, some of the things I’ve done have become used by mortal men to exemplify unlawful actions—all of which will forever be associated by my name. What people do not realize is that all of Gods creations, those created in Heaven, Earth, and Hell, are no strangers to the harshness of betrayal, desertion, sorrow, regret, and illumination—not even the Devil. I may be the King of Hell—Lucifer, Helel, or whatever disdained name they assigned me…but like them, I was created by the same father. Therefore I am flawed and imperfect.”

His eyes remained steady with yours, lazily gleaming under heavy hooded lids, almost appearing as if he was sleepy, though you knew that wasn’t the case. He was relaxed, peaceful, and in a state of tranquility, all because of your presence. He could always count on you to make him feel light as air, even though you could never know it, because he felt that there was not enough he could ever do for you, to show just how meaningful you are to him.

“So, you regret it?”

He tilts his head just a smudge as he gives a delicate smile your way. He responds to you in jest. “Are we in the mood for a history lesson?”

You both chuckle. He raises a hand and strokes his chin in suave fashion and props his face against it, leaning over to the arm of the chair. “Encouraging a woman to eat a simple fruit is one thing, but to do it in the manner of lying, trickery, and deceiving her is another. Either way, the result is the same, and I do not renounce it, nor do i ever find myself regretting it.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “But you just said it was a mistake made out of the harshness of emotions.”

He slightly nodded in agreement. “Yeah…but had I done anything differently…had I not hated and plotted for their demise—had I not made the move and convinced that naive woman to take a step that resulted in her banishment from that garden…I would not have had the chance to experience the joy in discovering you…in keeping you…and to love you.”

Your breath hitches as he gently spoke out heartfelt words. Dear God…you can’t believe yourself for admitting it but you have come to fall deeply in love with the Devil.

“I see.” You gulp down a nervous swallow as your cheeks flush, the blood coursing through your veins heats your body, all because you were touched by the sweetness of his nature.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, y/n. If I had to do it all over again—if I have to kill or die for you, I would. I will give up the last drop of my tainted blood just in your name…taking advantage of a fresh young mind into disobeying God…that’s just a small fraction of what I would do all over again, if it means it will lead him to create you…all to tame me.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with your touching words?” You smile and bite down your lip, feeling immensely overwhelmed by his confession of the unyielding love he has for you. His eyes widen in amusement as his smirk grows wider. “Is it working?” He jokes back as you both chuckle in unison.

He pats his lap, signaling for you to come to him, and you do. You perch yourself on his thighs and lean back against his broad chest, letting him reach around and grab onto the center of your waistline. He kisses your ear and cheek nonstop, sniffing in your scent simultaneously.

“I have my own way of showing it—some times it is in the manner that is most unorthodox…it frightens you and makes your body bleed. But you should know that it is all because of the effect you have on me. You bring forth the light of Heaven within me, ground me to the earth and experience humanity, and trick-start the fires of Hell. You are responsible for both, the ugliness and beauty of my nature. I’ll never be able to control myself when I’m with you. You are the impulsive breath in my chest that unhinges me. I want to do everything to you, and make you feel it.”

He kisses your shoulders once more, before pulling the remaining strap down and exposing your breasts in full bareness. His hands are cold, as always. He reaches up and cups both your mounds delicately as he tastefully pinches the nipples, occasionally tapping the jeweled ringlets decorating them. You lean your head back over his shoulder upon feeling the gentleness of his sexual passion. Inch by inch, you yearn for more, regardless that his gentler side will rage havoc and become demeaning, brutal, and viscous…but it always felt so good. Painful…but good.

He works his tongue on your neck and breathes in, the faint sensation of his nostrils flaring against your skin was delightfully sinful as he begins to move his hips underneath you, forcing you to wave yours in sync. “Oh Heeseung.” You moan out in a chiming tone. Delighting in the sound of your angelic voice, he keeps it going and feels the same knot forming in his gut as he scoops his hands underneath your thighs and slightly lifts them, spreading them apart.

Open to kiss the air, he smooths his palm over your moist cavity and gently slaps it, flicking his finger against your clit. All the while he kept whispering those sweet, flattering words into your ear, against your hair, and onto your cheek. “How does it feel, baby? To be the tamer of the Devil…to have him under your spell and belonging to him…forever.”

Your throat and lips tremble as he kept going. “How does it feel to be his favorite? To be forever cherished by the dark king and become his one and only bride? How does it feel to be called Lilith? To be mistaken as Eve—to be the soulmate of the Red Dragon. Tell me baby…how does it all feel?”

“Mm! G-good…so good—Heeseung!”

“Tell me you love me back, y/n. Tell me you love me just the same…tell me you worship me just as I do you…that you swear by my name as I swear by yours.”

“I-I do!” You stutter your words. It was becoming hard to speak, to breathe, and to move. Your body goes limp but it did not matter, his telekinetic abilities keeps you propped even when you didn’t have the strength to steady yourself. There was also of course, him. He was invincibly strong and sensually masculine, could anyone blame you for faltering and admitting your loyalty to him?

Spreading your vaginal lips, he fingers and plays with you. Moving his fingers in the same manner as a pianist, his movements are smooth, pleasant, and applied pressure in all the right spots. His flattering words continue, while his fingers, tongue, and the pitch of his voice all take a dark turn. All of which you were expecting, mentally noting that he was on the verge of fucking the screams out of your chest, and you couldn’t hide it…you couldn’t wait for him to do it over and over again. Who knew sinful pleasure better than the Devil himself? The type that makes you bite down your lip and curl your toes in. The type of love that made you hiccup your breaths while gasping for air, screaming his name repeatedly while he whispers yours.

Who else…would tell you from the depths of his own soul, the words of affirmation that brought you to your knees…

“Absolutely NOTHING I wouldn’t do for you…my darling girl.”

[skunkox]

Let's Talk About Turning

Let's go in order of Listeners. If any of the recounted information is incorrect, please let me know.

Bright Eyes:

From retelling from old fans, Bright had literally no say (possibly idea of) the turning till after it was at least in progress.

Lovely:

They were in a life or death situation. They chose to continue living at the cost of losing the power they worked so hard to learn, along with the normalcy of everyday life.

They seem to be taking everything in stride, but I'm worried for them. They seems to be an optimist except for when it comes to their image to others. (That's a post for another day)

Darlin':

Has been given the option to be turned. They still have the option to. But there's 3 things pointing in the no direction. In chatacter wise at least.

Sam still intends to stay with them regardless of how they age. They finally feel their place in the pack. Why lose the original link that made them a part of that family? Last and finally, Sam won't be living an eternal life, regardless if Darlin' wanted to or not with him.

I'm personally a believer that Darlin' wants to keep a mortal life for Sam's sake. Giving him a natural life time line. I hate to think about it, but I think we all see how that's all ending. At least we know that if that's the route Erik has chosen, when shit really his the fan with the meridian, these two are safe. Right? Right.

Treasure:

Let me start off by saying we don't know much about them because their story is quite literally two videos deep so far. What we've seen so far is that Treasure appears to have a dependency or rather a need to do for others. Regardless if they might feel uncomfortable or just not enjoy the sway of their company. Old company we should say.

I think we've mostly come to the agreement that if Treasure hadn't wanted to go off with Porter, they wouldn't have. They were there for their at the time, friends. The night at the club very well could have been the last straw.

All this to say I believe Treasure will be getting turned. Treasure is at the beginning of a break out from their own shell and making choices that benefits themself. There is some level of care and joy between Porter and Treasure. If that grows, wouldn't they want to stay together? If the first person to truly make Treasure happy is gonna live forever, wouldn't they want to too?

There are other ideas of Treasure being a Stealth cause the bitch didn't seem to freak out over Porter being s blood sucking play boy. Erik seems to be leaving empowered reveals of his characters to listener characters to the listeners, for the most part.

There's also the chance Erik could kill off Porter's character. There's a rule of 3 for character stories, it seems. We lost Fred from a listener standpoint and gained Porter. We have 3 wolves. 3 vampires, and 3 d(a)emons that have consistant romantic undertones at the very least. Vega is dead, but he can be brought back. I don't think he's killing Porter off but it's not impossible?

We're at the calm before the storm boys. I swear in the next 4 months, shits gonna get real and all he'll will break loose. Or Aria? Through the meridian. I'm rambling.

But yeah. Totally think that Treasure will get that choice and will be turned.

Again, if my information is wrong, let a bitch know. We gonna suffer through this together.

[stomach-bugg09]

hihi! first time requesting ever but I just love your blog its too good xD maybe a fluffy imagine of when the tulkuns return and y/n and fali meeting his spirit brother and its just super cute and fluffy <333 I love this whole thing so much ahhhh

summary: in honor of the tulkuns and their return, [y/n] is introduced into the beautiful world of these creatures—as well as the festivities that follow!

a/n: i finally got this done !! it took forever to write this because i kept rewriting and rewriting — it’s still not my favorite piece of work , but i really wanted to get something published. hope you guys enjoy. feedback + reblogs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass

warnings: underage ( ? ) drinking , drunk [y/n] and fali , pda , parents making fun of their children , that’s kind of it i think

words: 1.5k

welcome, brother

it was a time for stories after a season apart.

[y/n] watched in complete awe from where she waded above fali and his spirit brother. the scene was bustling with joy, with beauty. nearly every metkayina had a spirit sister or spirit brother of their own, their na’vi hands moving with grace through the thick waters to communicate with the gorgeous tulkuns. the sounds of the creatures reverberated through the water, a beautiful song ringing in [y/n]’s ears.

deaths.

some looked somber. [y/n]’s eyes caught sight of a na’vi that rested his forehead against the side of his spirit brother, a low hum vibrating through the duo. as if, even in the darkest times, there was still comfort in the relationship that they held between them.

births.

some were exuberant. a smile burst onto her lips at the image of an infant taking her first sights at her mother’s spirit sister, bobbing up and down in the water as she took deep breaths of the surface’s oxygen.

old friends.

her eyes traveled to where tsireya swam with her spirit sister, choking back a laugh at the backflip she did when retelling a very exciting story.

new loves.

but, of course, even when there was so much to watch, [y/n]’s sight would always return to the na’vi that floated beneath her.

fali spoke to his spirit brother, epayno, with an exhilarated smile that did not leave his face once. oh, how his childlike wonder made [y/n] melt.

what she did not expect, however, was when he suddenly looked upwards and caught her eyes. his arm raised, gesturing to her to swim down to him. he must have seen the way that her eyes widened for a blip of bubbles left his mouth.

“please, you must meet my spirit brother,” he told her, once again beckoning her to come to them.

she gave him a look before shakily signing, “i do not want to embarrass myself in front of your brother.” she winced as a laugh-like sound echoed from epayno’s body.

fali only sent the tulkun a look before turning back to her. “he wants to meet you. i promise, he will love you. i cannot say that same vice versa.” he smiled at epayno’s offended noise. “i only tease.”

with a nervous shake of her hands, [y/n] pointed her face downward. she began to kick her feet, arms wading their way through the water as she swam towards epayno and fali. once she finally reached the side of her love, a blush errupted onto her face as he grabbed her hand.

with his free hand, he signed, “i introduce you to epayno, and epayno meet ma [y/n]. my yawne.” and there she went again—melting at his mere words!

the creature rumbled, although he sounded very amused. after he was clearly finished speaking, fali turned to [y/n] and translated for her. “he says that you’re very beautiful. and that we look happy together. that is all.”

another wave of sound, this time with an undertone of disagreement.

“yes, that is all he said. nothing more than that!” he side eyed epayno. “because he would never dare say anything inappropriate or violating at all.”

[y/n] suppressed a laugh, although it was difficult. “something tells me that he is more than willing to expose and embarrass you.” she turned to epayno, a smile on her face. “i must learn to understand you soon. i must learn of all embarrassing fali moments!”

a click-like sound vibrated through her ears, although she understood it as more of a chuckle. she sent a teasing wink towards the tulkun at that.

“i told you! of course he would like you.” fali rolled his eyes. “and of course you would make it the bane of my existence.”

“what else would i do but make your life more difficult?”

he smiled, biting his bottom lip to fight back a grin. “maybe give me a kiss?”

she swam closer, grabbing his wrist to pull him onto the flipper that epayno was offering. once they were seated, hands running over the textured skin of the tulkun, he swam upwards and lifted them above the surface.

she grabbed his neck, pulling him into her. “i suppose that can be arranged.”

never did [y/n] expect the night to hold even more pleasantries than the day they just had.

music vibrated through the ground, drums and a melodious tune flowing freely in the veins of every na’vi that danced to the rhythm. a smile overtook [y/n]’s face, her eyes squinted because of the lower half of her face scrunching up into a joyous expression. her jaw was dropped open as she inhaled and exhaled, deeply taking in oxygen to try and regain composure within her lungs as her body moved with each beat of the drum.

beside her danced fali. his face was lit with joy, eyes stuck on [y/n]’s beautiful figure that swayed to and fro. paint swirled over her body, each color highlighting a different one of her features.

the na’vi danced on the beach, waves crashing onto their ankles as they swerved gracefully. their toes sunk into the wet sand, the salty water constantly returning to wash them off.

in the distance, the tulkun sang with the music, their own dance moves causing young children to gasp in astonishment.

“oh, this is wonderful!” [y/n] cried, feet stomping as the shells that were tied around her feet shook against the impact. “almost as good as parties back home.”

“almost?” fali raised his eyebrow muscles at that, his hand grabbing her as he pulled her into a twirl.

she only smirked. “well, i mean, there could be more drinks. less children. you know, that kind of stuff.”

“oh, just wait until the sun goes down!” he teased, hands wrapping around the middle part of her waist to lift her in the air.

she screamed a laugh, hands going straight to his forearms as if she was in imminent danger. “put me down,” [y/n] cried joyfully, tears pricking her eyes due to her uncontrollable laughter.

for once in their time together, the other na’vi paid no attention to the couple. their loud exclamations of happiness were drowned out by the combination of wind, water, dancing, and music. finally, after months of adapting to the metkayina ways, [y/n] and fali were able to dance the night away. together. and not one na’vi bat an eye.

hours passed, but they didn’t stop. soon, they were dancing into the next morning. sure, their feet were sore, their throats hurt, their heads were clouded by alcohol, but they did not care. they could not care.

around them flashed other young na’vi who still raged the dance floor. children were fast asleep back in their maruis, young parents having the burden to care for them, and the older warriors were far too aged to continue dancing for as long as fali, [y/n], and the others had.

occasionally, [y/n] would catch a glimpse of her siblings, although once they spilled into the next morning, kiri and tuk seemed to have disappeared. soon enough, neteyam followed after them, lo’ak eventually being forced to leave tsireya when neytiri ordered him to go home.

the sully parents sat to the side with toniwari, ronal, and both of fali’s parents. they were chatting up a storm, the omaticayans learning everything they could. neytiri was utterly infatuated with the beauty of this cultural aspect. she couldn’t help but try and learn from it.

jake was all too amused with the young adults that stumbled in front of them, their movements drunk and sloppy after a night full of dancing, singing, and drinking.

the amusement faltered the slightest bit when he caught sights of his daughter tripping over her own feet, fali attempting to keep her upright although it was doing more harm than help because he, too, had quite a bit to drink.

jake bit back a laugh when neytiri grabbed his arm, her free hand going to cover her mouth in astonishment. “oh, dear.”

neytiri slammed her forehead into her mate’s bicep when her daughter fell straight into the sand. “oh my eywa.”

the parents of fali were losing their minds as they watched their son attempt to help his love up onto her feet, unfortunately causing him to fall into his knees beside her.

simply put? the adults were howling with laughter.

it took quite a bit of time, but eventually the pair was back on their feet, continuing to try and make progress so they could leave the area that was determined as the “dance floor.” they didn’t even notice their parents.

instead, they were too wrapped up with every other bright flashing color that surrounded them.

while [y/n] was quick to make the smallest, most straight-forward comments to every na’vi that they passed, fali could not get enough of the sully girl. he kept grabbing her hands, pressing kisses against her temples and trying to tempt her to dance with him again. she was far too busy complimenting some metkayina on her jewelry to even fall for it.

and yet, somehow, even when shitfaced and quite out of it, they still managed to be an adorable and compatible couple, something that all the passerbyers idealized, even if some of them judged fali for even going for an outsider.

outsider or not, she was made for him, and he was made for her. and it was beautiful.

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin vs. Tam Lin: A Brief Retelling

Happy Spring Equinox! It is the first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere. The days are getting longer, the air is growing warmer, and the earth is growing greener. What better time to learn more about the inspiration behind our favorite High Lord of Spring than today?

O, I forbid you, maidens all That wear gold in your hair To come or go by Carterhaugh For young Tam Lin is there... ~Adapted from the translation of Child Ballad 39A

The Ballad of Tam Lin is an old Scottish folk tale about an enchanted young man who will be sacrificed by the Queen of the Faeries if his mortal love Janet does not save him at the crossroads at midnight on All Hallow's Eve. He says he was once mortal, but fell from his horse and was then taken to faerieland (which is why he is now the Queen's 'elfin knight' and thus cannot leave the boundaries of Carterhaugh).

While A Court of Thorns and Roses is primarily a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, it shares some qualities with the original Ballad. For example, Tamlin can change his shape at will. His beastly form is described as part wolf, part bear, and part elk. In the Ballad, Janet must free Tam Lin by pulling him down from his horse and holding tightly onto him while the faeries forcibly change his shape. If she lets go, her claim on him is forfeit. Depending on the telling, these shapes include:

a wolf

a bear

a lion

a serpent (sometimes a newt, a toad, and/or an eel)

a swan

a hot coal

When Janet at last succeeds, the Faerie Queen laments that had she known that Tam Lin would be stolen back, she would have replaced his heart with one of stone. (Or, more gruesomely, depending on the version, that she wished she had taken his eyes and replaced them with wooden ones.) Sound familiar?

What did the Faerie Queen want him for, anyway? According to the Ballad, the faeries sacrifice someone every seven years as a Tithe to Hell. Tam Lin believes that he is that year's Tithe, and it turns out to be true (because he is just that good-looking - and yes, that is canon!). In ACOTAR, the equally handsome Tamlin has seven times seven years to find someone who can free him from Amarantha's lustful claim upon him, or he is hers forever.

So, how exactly did he find someone to free him from such a fate? As we all know, ACOTAR's Feyre took an innocent life, so she had to cross the Wall to spend the rest of her life in Prythian. In the original Ballad, it's a little more complicated.

The story begins with Janet's father giving her the land containing Carterhaugh, the woods within which the legendary Tam Lin resides. He is said to collect a payment of any maiden passing through (usually her maidenhood ie virginity). From the way the Ballad is written, it seems that Janet seeks him out intentionally. For she has "kilted her green kirtle [skirt] above her knee", and green is said to be the faeries' color. Her hair is also described as yellow (ie blonde ie gold), and she has braided it above her brow in a most flattering way. When Janet searches Carterhaugh and doesn't find Tam Lin, she plucks a double rose that she finds nearby. He appears to tell her that she has taken something that belongs to him, and she sternly replies that the woods are hers to do with as she likes.

The Ballad does not go into detail, but upon returning to her father's house, Janet learns that she is pregnant. Because she does not want to marry anyone else, she returns to Carterhaugh to either find an herb to induce an abortion, or otherwise confront Tam Lin (sometimes both, depending on the version). When she asks him if he was ever human, he says he was, and the only way he can be human again (so that he can "be the baby's father") is if she frees him before he is sacrificed on All Hallow's Eve (as mentioned above).

With all this in mind, it's easy to see where Sarah J. Maas got the inspiration for her version of the story. While ACOTAR's Tamlin was never human, and never became human, he did need rescuing by someone who loved him enough to hold onto him until the end. At least until Book 2, *cough, cough*.

So well she minded what he said, And young Tam Lin did win; She covered him with her green cloak, As glad as a bird in spring. ~Adapted from the translation of Child Ballad 39A

So, there you have it! What other similarities have you noticed between the original Ballad and A Court of Thorns and Roses? Are you excited for Tamlin Week? Remember, it's happening on April 14 - 20, and you can find the prompts here. Happy Spring!

[carpooling-the-internet]

Star Trek fanfic recs

A long list of some of my all time favorite Star Trek fics. Not in any order. I just combed through my ao3 bookmarks for fics that still resonate with me and really blew me away. I will try to tag the authors if I can find blogs for them. If you know an authors blog I haven’t tagged, please tag them!

I dont have the spoons to write lil reviews for each fic bc theres toooooo many but maybe I’ll come back and edit some in sometime.

And eventually I’m gonna make a list like this for Sherlock Holmes and a few other fandoms. Also want to make one specific to podfics. We’ll see what happens first! This took me way longer than I thought it would…

Recs below the cut!

Star Trek TOS and AOS

The Thousandth Man (56187 words) by Ophelia_j In the wake of pon farr, the events on Vulcan are weighing heavy on Spock and his Captain. But will their attempt to fix the problem only make things worse?

The effect of sucrose on Vulcans (2290 words) by Ophelia_j After a successful diplomatic mission, Jim begins to suspect there's something wrong with Spock. Some Old Married Spirk Fluff for the 2019 OMS Challenge, for the awesome plaidshirtjimkirk.

The Eleventh Hour (8551 words) by Ophelia_j During a joint lecture at the Academy, Spock senses that Kirk is growing tired of the secrecy around their relationship and takes steps to resolve the matter.

A Crazy Little Thing Called Love (14940 words) by VTsuion The development of Kirk and Spock's relationship over the course of The Original Series, told in a series of off-screen moments.

The World Turned Upside Down (24777 words) by Jenna Hilary Sinclair On a planet torn by civil war, Kirk must battle insurgents, a Vulcan Healer, and his own heartbreak to find his way to Spock.

The Ren shat'var Trilogy (184,403 words) by CateAdams A split-second decision changes Jim's life forever, as he enters into a bond with Spock in the face of certain torture. Enemies to the Federation emerge from unlikely places, and the command team must contend with unexpected threats, as well as challenges within their own intense relationship. In this three-part series, the Enterprise races across the galaxy to confront the unknown, and Jim and Spock discover the true significance of their unprecedented connection.

First, Best Destiny - Parts One and Two (387733 words) by Ophelia_j A novel-length retelling of original Star Trek canon through the lens of one of the greatest relationships ever committed to film. Using missing scenes, episode tags, and original story-telling. Ultimately a Generations fix-it.

All the Time in the World (27856 words) by LSPINGLES The death of Edith Keeler affects Kirk and Spock in different ways. Spock invites Kirk to come with him to Vulcan to heal. Along the way the learn something about their feelings for each other.

Spice (276553 words) by eimeo It’s a question of biology. Vulcan biology. The problem with falling in love with a member of an insanely private species is that it just might take you the best part of a five year mission to work out that the feelings are requited. And then you might discover that he’s already decided that the two of you can never be together. And what are you supposed to do if he won’t tell you why?

Fulfilling the Needs of the One (Or the Both) (8741 words) by plaidshirtjimkirk Spock begins to wonder if his relationship with Jim has been one-sided in his own favor.

Touch Upon the Wonders that You See (4071 words) by waldorph Sarek does not always understand his son, but that does not mean he does not love him.

Entering Orbit (30957 words) by museaway Jim escapes to Iowa to avoid the media frenzy following the Narada incident, but a late-night miscommunication results in Spock turning up on his front porch.

Something Smart to Do (21322 words) by kianspo In which Jim finds himself fake-married to his first officer every other month. It's not his fault. Mostly. Dowries and Klingons are involved. Starfleet is decidedly not amused.

Don't Stop Believing (205901 words) by kianspo The story follows Spock from his own days as a cadet at Starfleet Academy to the ‘present day’ when he’s Kirk’s first officer and the Enterprise is on its five-year mission. Essentially, the story of Spock’s first real love followed by the story of him finding the love of his life. Ad astra per aspera.

And Then I Let It Go (10632 words) by kianspo Post-Star Trek Beyond. The crew of the Enterprise gets a breather while they are waiting for their new ship. Jim uses the time to do something he had sworn he would never do.

The Lotus Eaters (93594 words) by aldora89 Stranded on the planet Sigma Nox while searching for a missing away team, Spock and Kirk find themselves pitted against a disturbing native life form. With the captain out of commission on a regular basis and Spock struggling to preserve his stoicism, staying alive is difficult enough – but when a slim chance for escape surfaces, their resolve is truly put to the test. Together they must fight for survival in the heart of an alien jungle, and in the process, uncover the mystery of the planet’s past. Slow build K/S.

Atlas (135529 words) by distractedKat Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning. A novel-length continuation of the 2009 movie told in four parts. Cross-posted from FFN. PODFIC AVAILABLE! https://archiveofourown.org/works/652116/chapters/1187249

The Word Withheld (12032 words) by j_s_cavalcante After retrieving Kirk from the interspatial rift of "The Tholian Web," Spock realizes his oath to Starfleet and his service aboard the Enterprise are in jeopardy because he has denied to himself—and withheld from Kirk—a certain truth about the nature of the Vulcan relationship called "t’hy’la."

this is what happens when you save earth, apparently (5454 words) by WerewolvesAreReal “So, why haven't you settled down with some lucky lady yet?” the interviewer asks. Maybe it's the blinding set-lights, or the fact that he hasn't slept in thirty-five hours. But for some reason Kirk blurts, “Honestly, they all end up getting jealous of Spock.”

Four times the Enterprise Crew didn´t realize that their commanding officers were married to each other and one time they finally found out (4130 words) by razzleberryicedtea In which Spock and Jim casually forget to mention that they are married, and the Enterprise crew is too oblivious to notice on their own

A Star to Steer By (32043 words) by Borealisblue Kidnapped, injured, and headed towards Romulan space, Kirk could only be grateful that his last act was saving Spock from the same fate. And all it had cost was a stolen kiss.

An Open Secret (3495 words) by TransScribe Amanda Grayson knew her son. She could read him, easily. That might've been why she had suspicions about his relationship long before he said anything. It was more likely because subtlety was not a trait Spock had inherited.

the book of love (7297 words) by miss_frankenstein When yet another away mission goes awry, Jim and Spock are left stranded on a hostile planet with nothing to do but talk. What follows is a conversation about art and literature, life and death, love and friendship.

Take My Hand (My Whole Life Too) (5981 words) by pastmydancingdays Whilst in one of the most dangerous situations of his life, Jim Kirk came to a realisation that he should have had a very long time ago. Two, in fact, and he was about to let neither go to waste. A potential epilogue to Amok Time.

Ashayam (3378 words) by Willowe Spock knows he has no right to refer to Jim as any sort of endearment, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. If he had only listened to this logic he wouldn't find himself in this position, standing on the bridge having just called his captain "ashayam".

@ophelia-j

@razzleberryicedtea

@vtsuion

@plaidshirtjimkirk

@cate-adams

@pastmydancingdays

@werewolves-are-real

@eimeo-blog

@aldora89-blog

@museaway

@kianspo

@lspingles

@waldorph

@miss-frankenstein

[shadowshrike]

Ascended Astarion Appreciation Post

I'm not going to do a true analysis here because I feel like all the individual lines of spawn/ascended/neutral Astartion and how broad the interpretations of them can be depending on the context of your playthrough have already been discussed ad nauseam by the fandom. The stellar voice work only adds to the ability for a player to feel a connection with whatever narrative they like best. However, I want to throw my personal experience with his storyline into the ring because I feel it's rather unusual.

For my style of play, I initially only brought Astarion along on my 'clever evil' run. I had no knowledge of his storyline before I started and didn't do any metagaming to win his approval; I just brought him along because the 2 minutes I saw of him in my main run made him seem like a good fit for a Tav with selfish choices. This was a custom bard playthrough where I made everyone love me by being a great con artist, killed the few who might make my rise to power more difficult (like the Nightsong), and lightly manipulated our companions into giving me their protection while I only took on minor risk. Naturally, Astarion played well with this character. He was entertained by having a partner to 'play' with, one who didn't get put off by cruel comments or his lust for power and was good at pretending to be manipulated by the questionably charismatic vampire.

I expected the power lust and loss of humanity toward the end of his story. What I did not expect was that by doing an Ascended playthrough first, I would ruin my desire to reload for the Spawn ending later. After all, aren't you supposed to want to do the "Good" thing when your default gameplay style is Good-aligned?

What solidified it for me were two things. First, his response to the Gur. His reaction suggested to me that he was probably a power-hungry noble before he was turned, one who paid the consequences for his cruelty, jumped at the chance for an escape through Cazador when faced with the consequences of that cruelty, and then spent the next 200 years being tortured horrifically for it. From everything I gleaned through his half-retelling, his story was much like the victims of hags or devils. I felt bad for the disproportionate horror of his fate, but there was an odd sort of justice in it as well, one that had long descended into pure evil thanks to the creature he fell victim to.

The second thing that turned me from doing a full playthrough just to see the Spawn ending was, oddly enough, the confession where he explains he's been manipulating you and has accidentally developed feelings. Now, this is partly because I may have accidentally skipped part of the animation, but when I decided to reciprocate the 'heartfelt feelings' as part of my character's manipulation, his answering smirk seemed to say, "Gotcha. So all I have to do is act vulnerable, weak, and like I would be nicer if someone just loved me for once in my life, and they'll protect me forever. I can do that."

After that point, I could never take any statement he made about redemption seriously, especially not if he was particularly blunt about it. The nail-on-the-head speeches I'd seen from him on the spawn path seemed exactly that - too perfect. Like it was exactly what a good character would want to hear, and something a rather poor manipulator but one who specializes in making people feel loved (which Astarion is) would fall back on. That's not to say the words don't ring with truth - they really do thanks to the beautiful voice work - but in the context of his relationship with power and dependence, every word felt like falling back on old habits to manage his fears. Ones he may not even be aware of, truthfully.

Do I think that was the intent by the writers? Absolutely not. But the more I pressed on in the story and he never reverted to that overly sweet act after he realized my character was actually more interested in giggling with him over how to obtain absolute power, the more it felt like the whole 'poor victim' act, although absolutely rooted in some truth, was truly an act to him.

He was terrified, would always be terrified, and had no problem doing whatever he needed to do in order to keep that terror at bay. His desperation made him easy to manipulate. He begged for both the tadpole's powers and Raphael's deal, staying true to a character that would always take the risk as long as it didn't threaten his vanity like the astral tadpole did. He was clearly incapable of forming a healthy relationship with anyone and had no interest in actually working on himself. Still, he was a master at adjusting his behaviors just enough to make himself safer in his new 'goodish' environment by acting like he had come to appreciate goodness. Not that he was ever completely heartless, even on a selfish/evil run, but it became clear that he mostly wanted goodness for himself. He didn't want a lack of chains in the world. He wanted to be the one holding them.

Ascending him was the obvious choice in an evil run. I would both be giving him the one thing he truly wanted and putting him forever in my debt...at least until his annoyance at having a debt outweighed his fear of being alone.

Becoming his spawn, on the other hand, was a hard choice. And probably the most satisfying narrative choice I made in all my playthroughs, good or evil.

For context, I had refused to use any tadpole powers in this run, giving it to him instead, so he could deal with the risk while being pleased by being handed more power. I didn't want to sacrifice anything personally while I was busy putting everyone in my debt. But here I was faced with a dilemma - did I have confidence that my character could still manipulate this vampire driven by fear enough to take the world if I let him turn me into a spawn so I could be immortal? Would the good and evil armies I'd raised to my name be enough to stop Astarion if he started to lose his utter devotion to me and made me a mindless thrall? If I said no or suddenly cast doubt on him, he'd certainly be enraged, given my prior support of him and his fear of rejection. Was the danger of angering him on top of losing that ascended vampire power worth my mortal freedoms? How long would that freedom even last if I said no, assuming he truly did end up exactly like Cazador, who would likely have just taken it from me in a rage?

Interestingly, this choice was made for me by the insight check that some people hate so much. When I saw he thought my character was still above him, that I had to degrade myself to be with him, I realized the man's leash hadn't gone anywhere. I could use him to get me the world. Yes, he would continue trying to manipulate me with empty promises, but I would continue manipulating him in turn by appealing to his petty vanity and insecurities. And together, we could have everything he ever lusted after with the only cost being a soul he was more than willing to lose.

I think the perfect cap to this was the ending. A romanced Ascended Astarion's ending was easily the most satisfying ending part of all the little character moments of all my playthroughs. The evil power fantasy was perfect. With the choices I made, it implied he was 100% as much my thrall as I was his (less literally in his case), leaving the corruption of his character beyond pure power lust open to interpretation. Add to that the satisfaction of his new unique dialogs near that end, and I was blown away. His confidence, for once, did not seem fake, though it was still informed by the fears that had driven him from the beginning. It was not his most healed or kind self (and how could he be either of those in any ending after 200 years of torture unless he was lying?), but his most free self, enjoying everything he ever wanted in a blaze of glory, relishing in his control, and fully giving himself to the newfound passions given by his second life.

Is he evil, selfish, and controlling? Absolutely. Will some hero inevitably take him out down the line when he gets a little too crazy with his powers? Probably. But such is the beauty and fun of the evil power fantasy.

It's unfortunate that playing this route, I can't enjoy how he is chained by the spawn route. I can understand what it is trying to do. Promoting the power of forgiveness, love, and support to allow someone to be their best self. It aims to apply human healing patterns to a supernatural creature in a cathartic way, one that has been successful for a great many people. But for me, it just doesn't land.

On runs where I care about his fate on a personal level, I hate to see him forced into a life where he loses all the things that have brought him joy, either now or when his lover dies. I don't want my choices 'for his own good' to mandate he forever sacrifices his own wants and needs. I hate how he tells you that you made the right choice after things have calmed down if you refuse to help him because what other option does he have? You've stripped him of hope outside of your protection. Without a cure, he's helpless at the feet of the Good heroes surrounding him who could end him in an instant if he's anything other than grateful and fawning for how much you've saved him. After the other route, that fate feels like dying a second slow death for a character so desperate for freedom and power, no matter how self-destructive it is. And since he basically says you did the 'right thing' when you have a high relationship no matter what end you choose with him, Good or Evil or in-between, it loses its power to me as a narrative anchor to any feel-good moments.

Personally, I like Astarion most as a character who is able to fulfill his base desires, ugliness and all. I think he's written in a way where he's well-suited to be both a victim and an awful person. I like the unique narrative of him being someone who is a bit of a monster and most fulfilled by being his worst self rather than seeking redemption, but appreciate that most people feel more fulfilled by a route where he's humanized and gets to heal through romance or a supportive friend.

I encourage everyone to find their own favorite variation of him. To me, he is one of the messiest characters who can have wildly different 'truths' depending on the context of your playthrough and your interpretations of his lines. Since he's a known liar and manipulator (and an unfathomably old one at that by human standards), there are a million and one different headcanons you can use to fill in the blanks on what he really means, who he really is, and what he really wants or needs.

I hope everyone out there enjoys whatever version of Astarion they like best. For me, I think I just might have to try a different variation on an evil playthrough. I want to see what other contexts I can get for his Ascension story and whether any of them hit as many satisfying narrative notes as my first.

[ibrithir-was-here]

Old short story I wrote a couple of years ago and then forgot about. Remembered it the other day, gave it a bit of a brush up, and figured I'd share it. My own take on the old "Dark Snow White" retelling

Sunlight and Snowdrops

Father is sending us away tomorrow, sent for schooling at a monastery far off in the south. His new wife--The Usurper, who I will not grace with the title of queen-- tells us of the walled gardens, where pomegranates and figs grow almost year round on trees with leaves as large and tall as a man, a place where the sea still rushes up freely to meet the shore, long stretches of golden sand, forever warm to the touch.

She has talked of little else for months now, as if she and Father hope that such constant chatter will somehow soften us to the idea of our exile, make us forget the kingdom she has stolen from us, just as she has stolen his heart. And perhaps with my sisters she has somewhat succeeded . They always did take after Father, with their butter-yellow hair, and skin flushed like ripe peaches. Perhaps they were always more suited for such places. But I am my mother’s daughter, as any who look upon me can tell, and I will not be made to forget.

For how could such a flat, lurid place ever hope to compare with the beauty of my mother’s kingdom? What is a stretch of damping sea-shore to the beauty of a deep lake, forever crystallized into the finest mirror? What are walled gardens with their mad jumble of gaudy fruits to the dark towering pines, whispering to each other as the wind moves through them? What monastery could ever hope to reach heaven in the way that the mountains of the valley swell up in dark waves, to crack the egg-shell gray of the sky?

It is the blue sky of that far off place I fear most of all. What want have I for a sky of unchanging blue, suffocating in it’s immensity, with its one great burning eye beating down to peel and crack my skin in the day, and it’s thousand eyes to stare down at night? My mother’s pale sky has never once burned me, never once stared into my dreams, not with her veils of snow to protect me. Her sky is forever changing, shifting from stillness to storm on her whim. Blasting and breaking, soothing and softening, blanketing all with her beautiful covering of pure, protective white.

But my father’s new queen has poisoned its beauty for him, turning his head with her talk of salted water and coarse sand. If she wishes to retreat to such places, then I say let us be well rid of her. If my father and sisters are fools enough to follow her, to believe the lies she and her counselors and sages have spread about my mother, the rightful queen, then let them be off as well. I know the truth, I have not forgotten, I of all her daughters, have remained faithful.

There are so few of us now. So many have turned away from their true queen. But though loyalty is fragile, memory remains as firm as the ice upon the Great Lake. Despite their seeming love for the Usurper, The common people still tell my mother’s story. The Usurper thinks that because she was once one of them, a drudge plucked from obscurity by the weakness of my father’s will, that their hearts have turned to her in full.

But they can never forget my mother completely, she does not let them.

When the winds howl thick, like wolves at the door, the tale, long and wondrous and wild, is whispered between huddled crones and wide-eyed children.

A tale that takes hold of the mind and heart, as surely as the cold takes to the bones.

It begins in Winter, for indeed, how could it not?

A winter long and dark, when my grandmother, a woman wise in the old ways of the world, sat sewing at her window, looking out into the forest that spreads like an ink stain all round the castle, the snow falling heavy all around her, silencing the world as she made her request to the magic of the woods.

Three drops of her own blood she spilt to gain her heart's desire, a child for her childless king. And a child she received, a beauty such as never been seen. Hair black as the trees of the forest, lips as red as the blood she had given, and skin as white as the purest snow. A child of the winter woods, born on winter’s darkest night.

A life had been granted, and so was a life taken away. My grandmother lived long enough to bless my mother with her name, and the king, who once had so longed for a child, was now too grieved to bear the sight of his new daughter. And so my mother was given over to the wife of the castle’s woodsman, recently blessed with a child of her own, and who, most importantly, lived in a cottage on the edge of the woods, far, far away from the castle grounds, and her mourning father’s eye.

For seven years my mother grew up in the care of the woodsman’s family, as loved as if she were their own blood daughter, and the girls loved each other as sisters. They spent many days beneath the shadows of the trees, and learned much from the woods. They say even then, before she had come into her power, that the creatures and spirits of that place knew my mother as part of their blood, knew that something of her had come from something within them, and protected her for it.

It was in the winter of her fifth year that she met my father, a lad of nine, trapped within an enchanted bearskin. She and her foster sister brought him into the warmth of their cabin, saving his life, and each winter for three years after, he returned. She told me once that those winters were some of the happiest memories of her life, surrounded by those she loved in the shelter of the snows.

It was in summer that her sorrows came.

It was in summer that my mother discovered the gnome that had cursed her bear, and by his death my father was freed from his enchantment, only to then return to his own far off kingdom. It was in summer that my mother was parted from her foster family, recalled to court at last--only to find her own usurper on her father’s arm.

The people of the land adored the lady who had come to them out of the sun-drenched south, calling her their Summer Queen, praising her for the abundance that had blessed the lands since she had wed the king. And surely there was never a woman so beautiful. They say that her hair flowed like sunlight itself down her shoulders until it touched the floor, braided all over with flowers of every hew, and her eyes were as blue and bright as an August morning.

My mother said she could feel those eyes trying to melt her the moment she was brought before them.

My mother was not at court long. One day, the Summer Queen surprised her with a visit from her foster-father, and though he smiled at her, his eyes seemed grim and troubled. They traveled together down to the edge of the woods, far from the eyes of any in the castle--and there he took out the knife, carved all over with flowers, to cut out her heart.

(He claimed later, when the coup was over, and my mother restored to the throne, that he had only done so to protect his family, his own little daughter. My mother granted him the same pity he had shown her, and sent him into the woods, alone and unarmed. I do not know to this day if he fell to the animals or the cold that finally came, but by all accounts, he was never seen again.)

My mother, for her part, wandered for months alone beneath the boughs of the woods. The animals did not harm her, the woods knew its own, but she dared not venture near the edges where human souls still delt, fearful now that any might betray her to the Summer Queen. And as remarkable as she was, she was still only a child, and had never had to care for herself before, and she longed for the cheer and company of creatures like herself.

More than that, the heat of a seemingly endless summer wore at her. August passed into September and September to October and on, with nary a change to be seen. The leaves on the trees remained green, and did not fall. The rivers ran along as full and fat as ever, though there was no snow left to feed them. The sun felt like a great eye, searching for her beneath the sheltering shadows of the forest. Only at night did she find respite, and she longed for the relief of a winter that never came.

Farther and farther she wandered, seeking someplace where she might find some sign of chance, some shelter from the daylight that stretched longer and longer. At last, she found herself upon the slopes of the farthest mountain. Her feet were worn ragged from wandering, and her tongue was cracked from the heat, but with the last of her strength, she managed to stagger to the summit, and there, in a hollow tucked into the dark shadows of the peaks, so dark that even the hottest of summers could not fully touch them, she found snow.

And there her strength finally deserted her. She lay down upon the snow as contentedly as if it had been a feather bed, and might have slipped into the endless sleep beneath that cold coverlet, had it not been for the little men.

The frozen-beards, the valley people call them. Dwarfs that live in the fields of ice upon the mountains, having little to do with the valley people. They delight in the cold, they are said to be able to call up snow storms to hide their homes,and in winter they might be seen galloping along in the wake of an avalanche as happy as a child at play. But for all the ice of their beards, they are warm of heart, and they took the half-frozen child into their home as readily as if she had been one of their own.

For seven years, my mother at last knew peace. In the caves of the mountains she learned much of the songs and stories and skill of her new family. She learned the shaping of swords and the setting of gems,and the summoning of wind and fog, and was happy.

But nothing lasts forever, and at last, summer found her patch of hidden winter.

The king of a far-off land had proclaimed his intention to visit our valley kingdom, which had grown in renown-- and profit-- thanks to the summer that seemed trapped within the crown of our mountain valley. The rivers and Great Lake were never clear of vessels shipping goods out and bringing gold in. Both people and purses grew fat from the bounty, and basked in the seemingly endless sunshine.

There was one stain however, upon the glorious reign of the Summer Queen, though it was only spoken of in whispers, for it would not do to complain of such small misfortune within the wake of so many blessings.

The Draining Sickness.

It came on quickly, overnight in some cases. Those afflicted withered away, drained, pale and almost bloodless, like unwatered plants beneath the noon-day sun. No one knew how it spread, it seemed to only strike one village at a time; and oddly the most healthy and comely succumbed first, as if offended by their vitality and beauty.

Fate however, seemed inclined to some mercy. For each village that was stricken with loss soon found itself blessed with an overflowing of crops and commerce, as if Death felt some blood money was owed.

It was not only the young and lovely who were taken though. The old King, my mother’s father, was struck down on Summer’s Eve itself— along with seven young girls from each of the surrounding villages. But the grief over these deaths was short-lived, such was the glory of the days that followed, the golden sunlight drying the tears from the cheeks of the mourners even as they fell. Indeed, it seemed hard to grieve anything beneath the sun of that long, long summer. The Summer Queen, clothed in green and yellow and scarlet and blue, wore only a black ribbon around her neck for mourning, and none falted her.

It was then that the rumors came, rumors that the visiting king was not only there to see the beauty of the valley, but of its women as well. Indeed, those coming before his entourage said that he was seeking out one who was rumored to be the Fairest of them All.

The Summer Queen, shining almost to match the blazing endless sun, was more than happy to aid him in his search. And it was undoubtedly her efforts to ensure her own success in fulfilling the terms of his quest which led her to discover that my mother’s heart--which she thought she had devoured seven years ago, at the start of her endless summer --still beat it’s red,red blood within her snow white breast.

A grand celebration was proclaimed in the king’s honor, a festival of such magnificence as had never been seen outside of the old stories, and travelers came from all the surrounding lands to take part, ply their trades, and sell their wares. Up and over the mountains they came, and several passed by the cave where my mother dwelt.

Was it any wonder that my mother, still so young, having found a measure of peace in that snowy valley which soothed the burns upon her soul, and made her long to return somewhat to the world of men and look once more upon human faces, took in good faith the laces, brought by from far by the cargo boats; the comb, carved and painted so cleverly with a myriad flower; and finally, most beautiful blood-red summer apple, grown in her father’s own orchard?

When my mother woke again-- to the face of my father, returned from afar at last to find the girl who had freed him from his curse, and had now freed her in return-- she was not so naive.

My father had brought many men with him, and the people of the valley had grown slow and complacent in their bounty. When his men came with their swords, and the frozen-beards called up their icy winds, and my mother rode down upon the capitol in a sleigh made from her own glass coffin, they were not prepared to withstand the onslaught. Soon enough all had either fallen to their knees —or fallen where they stood.

The Summer Queen danced at my mother’s wedding, in shoes crafted by my mother herself, in the art taught to her by her foster-fathers. Shoes which returned upon the Summer Queen all the heat of the sun which she had stolen by her sacrifices and bloody rites.

Then my mother took up her rightful throne, and winter came at last to the valley.

My mother and father were wed in the open courtyard, as the snow fell like diamonds all around them, and all agreed they had never seen a more beautiful sight. My mother’s foster sister, who had remained loyal to her true queen, was reunited with her, and wed to my father’s brother. Children followed both of them after, and for many years, the natural order of the seasons came and went.

It was on my seventh birthday that my mother found the mirror, tucked behind a tapestry woven with fruit and flowers, in the abandoned tower of the Summer Queen.

No one knows where the Summer Queen obtained the mirror. Some have claimed it was a wedding gift from her godfather, a fallen priest who had taken supper at the Scholomance. Others that she crafted it herself, from water and moonlight, on a witch’s sabbath. But my mother told me once that the mirror was only a shard of a greater whole, and that the Summer Queen had only happened upon it, and though her own powers were great, her vain and narrow mind only able to discover the basest powers of the mirror.

But my mother-- born of blood and snow and forest, learned in the lore of the mountain folk, the perfect inversion in shape and soul of the Summer Queen-- could feel at once what was before her. She had higher aspirations than to know of mere beauty. After all, why should she trouble herself over such trivial questions?

She was, and is, the Fairest of them All.

No, my mother asked for vision and clarity, and the mirror readily supplied, showing her the darkness that lay in the hearts of men, the twisted, choking desire she had already tasted in an apple grown of blood and summer heat, and she knew what she must do.

That night, on Summer’s Eve itself, the snows began to fall.

The winters lie heavy on our land now, as heavy as summer once did. Our borders have shrunken back to what they were before the days of the Summer Queen. The rivers she once choked with cargo boats and merry-makers now flow freely beneath the protection of their own glass coffins. The flowers that once crowned her traitorous head have not been seen in many a year. The mountains are eternally capped with snow, the frost-beards no longer trapped within their narrow valley. Our kingdom, once vibrantly flushed with the blood of those taken to feed an endless summer, is now white and pure, cleansed by the endless falling snow.

My mother saved her kingdom from a blood soaked opulence, from a land made rich and fat off the hearts of their own, and yet they still turned upon her. Called her witch, demon, and worse. In the end, as the purifying snows fell heavier and heavier, The Usurper-- covered in ash from the fires she’d set to hold the snows at bay-- besieged the capitol. With her brother at her side, with an army of thred-bare shop-keepers and merchants laid low, she came up the Great Road with as much pride and assurance as if the crown sat already upon her head.

My aunt, foster-sister of my mother, and others who remained loyal, who knew their true queen for the power that she was, fought back. Indeed, my aunt and the wolves that answered to her slew The Usurper’s brother upon the very threshold. But the faithful were soon overwhelmed. The few who survived were driven into the woods, seeking the shelter that had been granted to my mother. The Usurper had the trees set ablaze, calling out that the dark powers of the forest would not be allowed to aid the followers of a witch. Her army came right up to the palace gates. And my father, my dear, foolish, fearful, traitorous father, who’s heart had been turned by The Usurper’s treacherous lies--himself unbarred the door for her.

My mother did not flee, whatever they say. She who had vowed to never be driven by anyone again, she who had bent the very elements to her will. She did not flee before The Usurper’s feeble army of ragged townsfolk and treacherous palace guards,even as they tore up her portraits, burned her books, and smashed her mirror into a thousand pieces.

No,they were not granted that victory. When she fell, she fell of her own accord, and her white gown sparkled like snow-flakes in the sun as she dived, down from the window at which her mother had once sat sewing, down, down into the blazing, waiting embrace of the woods that had heard her mother’s prayer.

When the fires at last burned themselves out, they found my mother’s body, ash covered, but untouched by the flames, as if even they could not bear to besmirch her beauty. She was placed once more in the glass coffin that bore her name, and it sat in state for three days in the royal chapel. She was, after all, a king’s daughter, and wife of another. On the third day, it was gone. Some claim she was properly buried, far beneath the ground, with a hawthorn branch in her heart. Others say that the rebels took the coffin, and burned it till the glass was melted down into a lump as black as her hair had been. The faithful say that the frost-beards came in the dark of the night, and reclaimed their daughter, carrying the coffin up once more to the high valley where my father once found her, to await the day when she will awaken again.

If she has not so already.

For though my mother’s crown sits on The Usurper’s head, and her daughters are to be sent to the far corners of the earth, in hopes the heat of the sun and the scent of the flowers will drive her from their hearts, the winter still lays heavy upon the land, and the wind has not ceased to blow since the day that she fell.

Father is sending us away tomorrow, and I do not think he shall be long in following. So many have left already. He longs for the shores of his youth, where the spring and summer follows after the winter. My uncle, his brother, has already returned there, with many of his children. The common folk are leaving as regularly as they can clear the mountain passes, which is not easy in these times. The birds and gentler animals left years ago. Soon, it will be only the wolves that prowl the dark woods, edging closer and closer into the towns as more and more people abandon my mother’s frozen kingdom. They say that the spectre of my aunt can be seen running with the wolves sometimes, when the moon is obscured by clouds, red cloak trailing behind her like blood on the snow.

They can send me away, but I shall find my way back. A thousand’s flowers scents could not make me forget the smell of the pines, a thousand bird’s songs could not drown out the howl of the wind. The bluest of skies cannot burn away the purest of snows. Not all the mirror’s pieces were ground to powder. I managed to save one, one single shard reclaimed in the chaos that shattered my childhood. I have kept it close, reworked and polished it, set it into a clasp on a chain that rests even now against my heart, hidden beneath my dress so that The Usurper cannot see. Already I have learned much, not as much as my mother, I do not claim that, but enough

And when the time is right, I know it shall lead me home. Past the guards that will be placed at the door, past the gates that will be barred, over the rivers and hills and far away, back to my mother’s mountain. And there I know I shall find her again, hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow; riding in her sleigh of glass thru the eternal winter air to meet me.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

In honor of Greyson getting a profile on the in game social media site, and his icon being a cute little bandaged bear, I'm sharing this little drabble I wrote for my favorite ⭐️ Anon ages ago and never shared lol

I'm so totally normal about Dr. Greyson 🥺

It's honestly the talk of Akso at this point. The medical staff is pretty tight-knit, and Dr. Greyson is universally loved around every department and clinic, so it's no wonder that everyone is trying to help him win the affections of one particular head surgeon.

"Have you tried taking him to that new cat café? I've heard that anyone who goes there and gets the blessing of the white cat ends up falling in love forever."

"Maybe take him to the bookstore downtown? They have a collection of older medical texts he'd totally enjoy browsing."

"Try just inviting him to dinner? Dr. Zayne seems like he'd be more old-fashioned to me. Like you need to wine and dine him first."

Greyson has of course heard it all at this point. And it's not that the advice is bad or that he's ungrateful, it's just that the man he's trying to catch the attention of has the thickest blinders he's ever wittnessed, and it might just be driving him crazy? It is, however, endearing that everyone is trying so hard.

Though maybe a little too hard, he thinks, as he overhears Yvonne telling Dr. Zayne about an incredibly irate patient he'd managed to talk down from a dangerous situation the day prior. She was of course taking liberties, recounting how he'd managed to get the sharp object from the patient before he could hurt himself or anyone else, and had gently guided him back into his room and tended to his emotional needs as well as his medical ones.

"Are we talking about the young man with the safety scissors and the teddy bear he stole from his roommate? I definitely didn’t hear that story in such a colourful retelling yesterday." Greyson doesn't need to see Dr. Zayne's face to hear the tell-tale sign of the little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. Normally a sight he'd relish of course but this....

The "help" of the Akso staff might just kill him honestly.

[rockybloo]

Hi, feel free to ignore this ask, or point me wearily to the FAQ if i missed it, but can I asked what inspired the world of Lore? Specifically the holistic nature of it, where different tales live side by side. I am a…hopeful, one-day fairy and folk tale scholar, and in my studies I’ve seen this concept pop up in a lot of more modern retellings/reimaginings, and one of my projects has been to see if i could find a source. When i say inspiration/source, I don’t mean singular piece(s) of media that gave you the idea (if you have one id love to know it though!) i more mean sorta your own internal source, the emotional trigger that led you to grouping separate fairy tales into one larger world. I know theres a lot to be said for the simple concept of “because it fucks, thats why” (some of my favorite interpretations of tales spawn from similar concepts) but if you have the time or energy, id love it if you’d be willing to ponder deeper motivations.

Sorry for the long ask, im absolutely obsessed with your characters and the worlds you create by taking archetypical settings and twisting them into something new and intriguing. Thank you for sharing your art (in all senses of the word) with us!

Thank you! And I very much love overthinking fairy tales and their existence SO I SHALL DO EXACTLY THAT!

For me, the reason I just plopped down every fairy tale into the same world, aside from a simple "Because everyone else does it and it's my favorite type of fantasy world" is because it makes so much sense to me.

There's a ton of repeated themes and characters in fairy tales to the point they have a classification system to make folklorist's lives easier when categorizing them. There are so many different Cinderellas, and I don't mean just the European one, as it's a fable that has been found all around the world. There are very much big differences in each story but the literal age old tale is still noticeable.

I took a mythology and fairy tale class in high school where we talked about "The Hero's Journey" which is like a template nearly every story falls into regardless of where a story is from. And for me, it was wild seeing just how many shared tropes humanity has as a whole in our storytelling.

A character that pops multiple times, aside from Prince Charming, is the Big Bad Wolf. OF COURSE it's because wolves were (and still are somewhat) dangerous animals and so that is how they are characterized in fables such as Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs. But it's still noticeable that these stories overlap with each other so fitting them into a single world just makes a lot of sense.

Another gigantic reason is that we all live in reality. There's a general understanding of what can and cannot occur on Earth. We know we can't fly without some machine to aid us or talk to animals and have them speak our language back to us. And many mythical beings can potentially be traced back to specific interactions early humans had with rare instances in nature and a need to have a reason "why?".

In fairy tales, reality is fantastical. Numerous tales have talking animals, super natural beings, shapeshifting, characters defying death and recovering from "should have been" fatal injuries, and being able to live happily ever after with never ending love.

We humans don't really get that. Especially that last part with happy endings and love. Sure, we can live a peaceful life or try to but there's this level of joy in some tales that only exists in fairy tales. And love so so much more complicated than the typical "love at first sight that lasts forever without problems".

With all these elements that land fairy tales in a different realm of reality than us, I thought it made sense to actually make a realm (or rather a planet) that explains why things in the world of fairy tales are so much more different than us and even somewhat explain why our reality doesn't have magic in it.

It basically traces back to that age old human urge to explain the unexplainable with some story.

[rose-bookblood]

The Witch and the Beast | WIP Intro

Genre: fantasy retelling, romance, post-apocalyptic steampunk

Target: NA

Setting: our world, France; centuries in the future

POV: multi (mainly 2), 3rd person limited, past tense

Themes: family, guilt & forgiveness, trauma, oppression, power

Logline: In an attempt to save her father's life, 21-year-old Rosebelle offers herself as prisoner to the king of a forgotten realm, cursed to remain a half-human, half-wolf beast.

Literal logline: Disaster bisexual falls in love with sad wet dog (literally) while juggling his nosy siblings and practicing witchcraft.

Featuring: one-sided enemies to friends to lovers | Arabic bisexual FMC | mixed black-white family | siblings dynamics | vampires, werewolves & witches | Italian pirates | side f/f & m/m pairings

Inspiration: various iterations of Beauty and the Beast and other fairytales

CW: violence, gore, death, descriptions of corpses, blood drinking, trauma & depression, sexual harassment, self-hate & implied self-harm (no physical injuries)

Hi, folks! After ages, I'm finally introducing this project I've been mentioning for months! It really shouldn't have taken me this long to post this, but I'm a busy perfectionist.

The best way I can describe TWATB is if Once Upon a Time and The Vampire Diaries had a child. Hopefully a better written one. It's mainly a Beauty and the Beast retelling, but in book 1 you can see hints of other fairytale characters and, in book 2, all new characters come from different stories. Yes, it is a series, it seems I'm physically unable to write standalones.

Plot

After a nuclear war set technology back and filled Earth's atmosphere with gas clouds that black out the sun, vampires came out of the shadows and subjugated the humans.

Rosebelle Fortier wishes to escape the small French village where she lives, unable to pursue her thirst for knowledge and tormented by a vampire who wants to make her his. Ro's wish comes true with a catch when she offers herself as prisoner to a half-human, half-wolf Beast and his siblings to save her father's life.

Before he angered the wrong witch, Adam ruled the Kingdom of Alsace. Now, he's a monster trapped in his own castle and by a curse that will only break if he learns to love and be loved back. Time is ticking by and, even when a girl stumbles on his path, Adam knows there's no hope: no one will ever love a beast.

As a hidden threat forms, Ro and Adam must come into their own power and fall in love, all before time runs out.

Characters

(* means a character appears in book 2)

Rosebelle Fortier

she/her

the Beauty

bookworm with a thirst for knowledge

curiosity killed the cat etc. etc.

may or may not become a witch

disaster bisexual

Adam d'Alsace

he/him

the Beast

a literal sad wet dog

(he's a werewolf)

(he's also depressed)

currently stuck in a hybrid form

François Guérin

he/him

the Avenant/Gaston

nasty musty crusty dusty

old as fuck vampire

spends his days harassing Ro

Delphine d'Alsace

she/her

eldest sister syndrome

forever plagued by guilt

Ro & Adam's matchmaker

this || close to losing it at all times

Julien d'Alsace

he/him

wishes his family did something to fix the situation

be gay do crime

grumpy but there's no sunshine (yet)

perpetually on the verge of spilling all the tea to Ro

Véronique d'Alsace

she/her

moody teenager

trans & aromantic

wants to be left alone with her garden and books

she and Adam connect on a depression level

Charlotte d'Alsace

she/her

definitely undiagnosed ADHDer

aromantic

a ball of sunshine

loves running around the castle gardens in wolf form

Bianca Chen Hildebrandt*

she/her

the Snow White

princess of the Kingdom of Germany

lesbian

her stepmother turned her into a vampire against her will

is now leading a rebellion

Astrid Morgenstern*

she/her

the Sleeping Beauty

Bianca's loyal knight (in a totally heterosexual way)

pansexual

is currently. you guessed it. asleep

Sebastiano Falconieri*

he/him

the Captain Hook

unsurprisingly, a pirate

bisexual

Italian pride let's gooo

stuck on a magical prison island

Setting

Like I mentioned in the plot, TWATB is set in an unspecified future, after a nuclear war. As a consequence, the planet is cocooned by a thick cover of gas clouds that block all sunlight. Vampires, who had previously been considered a myth, came out of hiding and started ruling over the humans. Besides that unfortunate implication, lack of sunlight also means the climate is colder and living conditions are dire. The story is set in France, but now it looks like Siberia.

The war also set technology back a couple centuries, before the discovery of electricity. There's gas lamps, railroads (not many, because, y'know, lots of ice and snow), zeppelins. And, of course, I couldn't resist the steampunk/Victorian aesthetic.

But that's not all! Even though I'm not sure how much will come across in book 1, since it's set at the castle for 90% of the time, there's more to the setting than "steampunk but cold". I've built a vampire-centric society with its own rules and spent a bunch of time researching what effects the absence of direct sunlight would have, to make everything as realistic as possible.

This is all for now. Hope this "new" project piqued your interest!

— Rose

Taglist: (lmk to be added)

@ink-fireplace-coffee

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday (3/13)

I don't have an art WIP this week, because I haven't made any progress on any previous WIPs, and the recent pix I've done are complete and I'll be posting them on my art blog (@tanithias-art-blog) shortly. I haven't done any more on Miranja's original story lately, either, because I've been collaborating on some little side stories with @lillxart and her OC, Snow White! So this week's WIP is a couple of paragraphs from the sequel I've been writing to the story she wrote for me.

Tagging @dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter - I feel like my friends are falling away, but they're off living their best lives, so more power to them!

Without further ado:

Snow had begun weeping as she spoke of Ondolemar. They’d wanted to marry, she said, but through her own misguided choices, he had died before they ever could. That was when she learned the pain of losing love, losing a loved one. And Miranja felt that pain right along with her. The women cried together with great, gasping sobs, even wails. Snow let go of her own arms and clung to Miranja, who turned to wrap both her arms around the smaller woman. Snow White had had her time to grieve and scream and curse and cry, but even so, she still felt the need from time to time, and retelling it had overcome her, despite her best efforts. Miranja, on the other hand, had yet to fully mourn Talvas. She’d never been alone long enough, and when she’d been with people, she’d been afraid of making them too uncomfortable by expressing her raw emotions. But here, alone with Snow, who was already crazy as a bedbug, she didn’t have to hold back. She could release her heart’s agony and wash a large part of the pain away with her cleansing tears, scream at the Divines or the Daedra – whoever was responsible for the turn of events that had ripped Talvas from her arms. They cried for different men, but they cried together in solidarity, and sharing the pain was comforting to both of them.

A traveler passing near the tower heard the sobbing and wailing, and ventured closer to see who was in such distress and whether he could help. But as he neared the end of the path leading to the tower’s steps, the skeleton guards snapped their attention toward him. He gasped, blood running cold, and with eyes and mouth wide with terror, he turned on his heel and ran as if the death hounds of Coldharbour were pursuing him. If there were armed skeletons, he reasoned through his unreasonable fear, then something terrible must be happening in that tower, perhaps a Daedric ritual with a human sacrifice. A certain old drunkard at the Dead Man’s Drink would be the only one to believe him when he told his tale.