#starfalled — francis.

[sanctificetur]

historical AU. with Jess and Francis ( @starfalled )— paralleling to Sansa and Harry — RL visualiser being Alina and Nikolai. Series of poems or drabbles (which poem line could be meme prompts or could accompany relatable meme lines I already rb in meme tag ) : Could incorporate some remainder of ic/ ooc ( as I remembered the starting line & other random info of motivation ) dot points — as well as my playlist during our dance/war ++ (ex. astronomical, piano). I lost Francis’ Spotify link of he saw in me through his eyes — let’s see what I remember: when we were young, yellow, two of us). elements of my long drabble between them ; which probably was the primary motivating factor that Francis realises perhaps Jess is not lost forever & commencing/climbing back on the horse in a calm walk through the forest of hands and teeth (ref: similar to Morgana and her horse-riding & when the horse reared up on her). and I think when Francis went and listened to Jess’ love of jack savoretti, the harsh & beautiful rawness (ex. catapult, written in scars : ref possibly striking the muse spirit side of enjolras) really struck a chord in his soul to spark a progressing journey to not be in eternal guilt lockdown of queue : of the painful trauma trenches of SPN fandom but the love and passion of relating to dean — a reflection of themselves — yet getting to know Jess ++ himself better — he fused together a creation of Westley McCarthy — honouring past & present. also in a Borgias like setting in which my DVD arrives yesterday. Anyway, in here, they are probably not technically angel or demon in reality, but they just experience elements of such during their relationship. They both feel the other as well as themselves are the key reason for distress as well as salvation — which may seem strange to outsiders as they only knew each other for a handful of months — summertime sadness by Lana del Rey. They both feel the other keeps dancing around each other but not really touching during the earlier && more paranoid times. Like when Francis kept kicking Jess out of palace. And when Jess keeps doing her doll trance motions. “Here’s where you were mine. Here’s where I am yours — always.” What elements of Jess to keep: well, referencing about her aversion to hamsas & tally marks on her hands, that could tie into my Malachi ic post Link here — Jess could draw 👁 on her hands with ink. Which could tie into how she used to write reminders on her hands with ink in high school —- a dangerous habit of possible ink poisoning. But yet could also tie into the AU about her conflict of spirit — of human or monster? Hmm I might write a disjointed ongoing letter poem to Francis / Jess too just to more properly sort out my repetitive suspicion of hurting myself on my handwritten diary, during my calmly living life. Handwriting is an important accompaniment to digital, as not to get lost in the void of machination, even though with technology, you absolutely do write with your soul as well as head — it is just more difficult to know your limit. Anyway, random direct paging is the most important thing — direct communication in which I assume Francis is also trying to do with his new canvas of handwritten and digital — and sorting through his own mess of a mind in his own self validated manner. The months of rose-tinted dance however are not a waste of heart and energy, and just to navigate through their own time & pace within their whirlwind body & soul of: should I trust them or not?? like what Francis said as Dean, “There’s a book in the vaults.”

[compendiumofconstellations]

things you said when they took me away (francis to mary)

There was a lot she wanted to say. A lot she wished she could say. Francis was her heart, her soul, and she couldn’t imagine a world with him gone. She had made many mistakes during their marriage, and she wished she could take them all back. Not turning to him after the miscarriage. Blaming him, in a way, for her rape. Turning to Louis of all people. Not standing by Francis when all he had ever done was try to keep her safe. She wished that circumstances could be different. She wished that she was able to show him and tell him all of that. She wished that she could change the past so that they could be happy and united.

But she couldn’t. So she said nothing. Only her tears could express even a fraction of what she felt.

[flownintothesun]

𝐇𝐌𝐌... 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 >_>

I know a lot of you have followed me over several blogs, so this won't come as a surprise for a handful. But then I wonder now that I've been in the RPC for literal years if anyone's lurking around under a different URL/pseud that I used to write with. Unfortunately, I had to wipe followers on my old blogs due to a safety concern (so I'm not following anyone on any of them anymore, since they went inactive) but...hm. Do I know you from:

redacted first blog because embarrassed. see also that one time i thought that francis was a straight man. @willchosen (formerly @waywardfreckled) @prophecyfated @infinitewritten @moonwoken @starfalled

Just curious. :) How long have we been mutuals? Where's the first place you remember me from? ♡

[smokedanced]

* knowing your partner well can potentially make writing a lot easier. repost, don’t reblog.

name : havu. pronouns : they/them & ey/em. preference  of  communication : discord (my handle is on my rules page). if you aren’t willing to use discord, i will communicate through tumblr ims, but i struggle a lot with focus there as the chatbox is tiny and typing long messages directly there (as opposed to copy paste to notepad) is near impossible. as long as you fill out my interest tracker that’s enough communication for me if you’re not up for ooc chats! name  of  muse(s) : i was going to just link my muse navi but... why should i not list all 24? charlie bradbury, clara oswald, claude narcisse, dean winchester, ella finnegan, eloise bridgerton, ever hayes, garrus vakarian, hannibal lecter, hugo “hurley” reyes, iris hunt, jeremy bradshaw, jillian marks, juliet burke, kenna de poitiers, mary stuart, paul randolph, river song, sansa stark, the tardis, the tenth doctor, tyrion lannister, will graham, wren shepard. on solo blogs: castiel & the thirteenth doctor. experience / how  long  ( months / years ? ) : since circa 2006 = 16 years? on tumblr since 2013 = 9 years.

best  experience : i don’t want to really put experiences or people above/below each other in how much i appreciate them. best experiences tend to be when either muses, muns, or both really click and we end up building extensive storylines together and our muse dynamics end up mattering a lot! but i gotta honorary mention orion @starfalled who i love dearly, and lured into tumblr rp, and all our late night talks about our muses, especially our castiel & francis (shh i know i play cas on a solo blog and not here) wordlbuilding; and lexi @anderwhohn / @vortexparadox / @immortaljackal / @starkastichotmess who’s become a close friend through tumblr. everyone else i talk ooc with, especially the people to whom i’ve mentioned that i feel comfortable/relaxed around, as that doesn’t... happen often with my level of awkwardness and social struggle. but honestly just everyone with whom i interact ic with is a good experience one way or another!

rp  pet  peeves / deal  breakers :   :: deal breaker: fandom anti/”purity culture” rhetoric/behaviour, harrassing other people, policing what kind of fictional content other people can write/enjoy. :: deal breaker: bigoted behaviour and/or beliefs. :: deal breaker: time limits on reply speed. you’re valid if you need replies within a timeframe! but seeing as i struggle with executive dysfunction, i can’t oblige. :: pet peeve: people assuming i’m not interested in a thread/dynamic if i reply slower than to other things. i don’t engage in interactions i’m not enjoying. it annoys me to no end when people accuse others of lying of their interest or think they know my mind better than i know it myself... again, i have severe executive dysfunction. just because i want to write a thing doesn’t mean i can. just because i can write something doesn’t mean i can write another thing. it’s not an excuse for “i just don’t want to so i’ll say i can’t”. i actually can’t. my nervous system is built differently than yours. it physically makes it hard to initiate action. i don’t like it when people decide they know my limitations better than i know them, neither do i like being accused of lying. i don’t fake interest. i don’t have the energy for that! :: pet peeve: excessively purple prose (poetic prose is neat though!), english isn’t my first language, it’s hard to comprehend. multiple spaced text (double is fine, 3+ and i. start. reading. it. like. this.) autoplay on blogs. red font against dark background is the only thing that makes my eyes hurt.

plots  or  memes : i prefer plotting... even though i struggle to extensively plot prior to writing :P i prefer to plot at least to the extent of tossing around a few ideas ooc. i’m glad to wing it too, though. and as for first interactions i probably actually prefer memes? to get an idea how our muses vibe and how our writing styles vibe. but for long term writing, i prefer to plot at least a little bit. it’s not necessary though! and i know that i suck at it half the time anyway.

long  or  short  replies : entirely depends on the thread. i have a preference for 2-3 paragraphs, but i will do novella, i will do one-liners... i think it should be normalised that during a single thread, the reply length can vary from novella to single para and that’s ok. that’s just a natural flow of narration? if you’re setting scene or backstory it’s heftier! if you’re writing an action sequence it probably should be shorter for that part! fuck matching length.

best  time  to  write : when i feel up to forcing myself. yes, i have to force myself most of the time, and no, that doesn’t mean i don’t want to write. once again, i have severe executive dysfunction. i have to force myself to do things i want to do every day. that is legit just my life. if i didn’t force myself to start something, i’d never do anything fun. me needing to force it doesn’t mean i don’t have fun with it.

are  you  like  your  muse(s) : i can relate to at least some things with most if not all of them, i would think, but no, none of them are like me enough to say that they are... like me? eloise or the doctor are prob the closest but they also are super far from being like me.

tagged by: stole it from @innerwar tagging: steal it! tag me!

[melodicwitchlight]

starfalled ☀️ francis :

They’re lying on the roof again, under strings of fairy lights. Somehow, this place has become a safe haven — a place protected by the warm, velvet blanket of the night, and the stars that hide under the light pollution from the city, but are not forgotten.

He shifts, rolling to his side from where his head had been nestled gently on own arms while Mary had napped beside him. It’s new. They spend too much time together to invest it elsewhere, and so, coursework follows them for naps and idle moments. But Media and Communications essay is put aside easily as one might place a bookmark between the pages of a book.

He smiles, “Does that make me Juliet, dear Romeo? Will you climb a tower for me, and profess your undying love?”

mary is dancing under the fairy lights decorated through the roof landing ; as francis is working on an essay for university. he is wearing a black ribbed turtleneck as it was rather cold and sitting cross-legged on the grey cement ground. a boom box ( radio ) is in landing playing music, for ease of francis’ studying.

he had invited mary over too so they could hang.

as she spins her black dress around ( tartan pattern a deep red and blue ) and dancing to the jaunty jazz tune. a trumpet 🎺 colours the air ; reminding her of her time with the scots. we’ve got the love in automatic.

francis smiles as he sees mary dance, as he writes in his essay of music humming in the atmosphere of the french rebellion. bookmarking the essay with a light pink ribbon, he asks mary a question of romeo and juliet.

mary turns, smiling, a white jewel tiara in her head, as the song continues ( hang on, hang on to yourself ) and says,

‘ I remember watching romeo and juliet in our class ;; I enjoyed it, juliet kissing romeo with her fairy wings is very romantic. ‘

[evermxre-a]

t.umblr ate my tags, so fuck it : ship tag drop.

— * ❛ song as old as rhyme.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : solhjerte. — * ❛ give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : fhett. — * ❛ i will follow you home.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : rcvival. — * ❛ beautiful stranger‚ here you are in my arms.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : coyotesteeth. — * ❛ i’ll be the prince and you’ll be the princess.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : kalma / auroradicit. — * ❛ eyes like sinking ships on waters so inviting.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : emcads. — * ❛ i want ours to be an endless song.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : francis / starfalled. — * ❛ i love you‚ ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : norringtxn. — * ❛ but with the beast inside‚ there’s nowhere we can hide.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : kcrclrezni. — * ❛ just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : moonsymbols. — * ❛ what came before won’t count anymore.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : hopexncarnate. — * ❛ i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.  ╱  𝐝𝐲𝐧 : rcbf4.

[batteredoptimist]

[[ From a thread with @starfalled :) I haven’t done a full scene from a thread in a long time but I might just start again! This was a lot of fun. ]]

[waywardfeathered]

@starfalled​ said: ∗ 19﹕ a  suggestive  text . (do you even have to ask? francis.)

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬 .    /    ACCEPTING ↷

               [ text: francis ]   ⸺   What do you call an aroused quadrilateral?                [ text: francis ]   ⸺   An erectangle.

[voxvulgi]

💖 (for all of our ships if you have the energy? and if not, you pick whatever speaks to your heart.)

Send a 💖 and I’ll tell you what a relationship would be like with my character  || @starfalled

Energy? ENERGY? I could be dead, stripped of my life force, and any mention of our ships would raise me, Orion 😤

1) Francis & Adonis 🥰

How likely they are to enter a relationship with them:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (behind Rose’s back)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (with Rose’s permission or after divorce)

Would they…

Make the first move?

Yes | No

Say “I love you” first?

Yes | No

Cheat on them?

Yes | No (ironic ik)

Be the jealous type?

Yes | No

Plan the dates?

Yes | No

Initiate the first kiss?

Yes | No

Remember anniversaries?

Yes | No

Their Relationship Is:

friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other

PUBLIC Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

PRIVATE Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

Do they stay together?

yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling | other

What terrible pet names would they give each other?

Oh my God, these two?? They’re probably the epitome of terrible pet names. And by terrible, I mean painfully romantic and utterly heartwarming, if over-the-top. “My love” and “darling” will probably be the simplest things they call each other. I can see Francis calling Adonis “mon cher”. Other than that, their affectionate language is dominated with longer phrases such as “home of my heart” and “mark on my soul”. They are not sorry, I am not sorry, and I doubt Orion is sorry.

2) Enjolras & Adonis 😭

How likely they are to enter a relationship with them:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they…

Make the first move?

Yes | No

Say “I love you” first?

Yes | No

Cheat on them?

Yes | No

Be the jealous type?

Yes | No

Plan the dates?

Yes | No

Initiate the first kiss?

Yes | No (Enjolras already did that, so like...)

Remember anniversaries?

Yes | No

Their Relationship Is:

friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other

PUBLIC Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

PRIVATE Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

Do they stay together?

yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling (and another fling, and another fling, and another fling-) | other

What terrible pet names would they give each other?

Enjolras called Adonis “my dear” in French ONCE and Adonis will never recover from it. Other than whatever vocabulary Enjolras uses to seduce Adonis, I don’t know. I think Adonis will consciously avoid pet names because he doesn’t want to feel like he’s forcing himself on Enjolras.

3) Westley & Ivan 🤔

How likely they are to enter a relationship with them:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they…

Make the first move?

Yes | No

Say “I love you” first?

Yes | No

Cheat on them?

Yes | No

Be the jealous type?

Yes | No

Plan the dates?

Yes | No

Initiate the first kiss?

Yes | No

Remember anniversaries?

Yes | No

Their Relationship Is:

friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | (kinda) enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other (captain and crew to lovers???)

PUBLIC Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

PRIVATE Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

Do they stay together?

yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling | other ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What terrible pet names would they give each other?

Probably none. They probably won’t even call each other “babe”. The pettest name Ivan would come up with is calling Westley “Wes”. Idek dude this ship might not even happen but who knows 👀

[wehavefoundthestars]

❝  i see you.  i just wanted you to know that.  i always see you.  ❞ (francis)

When hearing those words Elio looks up to study Francis his face. There is such sincerity in his words that he feels them deep inside of his heart. He is the only person who truly sees him for who he is. Not a spoiled prince or whatever other kinds of rumours are going on at the moment. Does he even know how much what he just said means to him? To be seen by the one person you love… Isn't that what everyone craved?

Walking over to him he cups Francis' cheeks into his hands. "You have no idea how happy that makes me." Elio finally says before leaning in to kiss him. "You're the only one who sees me for who I am. I might as well be invisible to the others because they don't know but you... You do."

[mercyburned-aa]

@starfalled​  /  francis.

She’d had the question on the tip of her tongue for a while now, but sooner or later it would have to get asked.  Clare asked Francis for a word as everyone else was setting up camp for the night, pulling him off to the side and just out of range for anyone else to hear.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do when you see Anora again?”

Clare had thoughts and opinions of her own, but she was careful not to let any of it show, either in her tone or in her expression. Whether they liked to think about it or not, Anora waited for them in Denerim.  So would the Archdemon, probably.  And Loghain.  Just like Howe would no doubt be waiting for her.   Whatever happened, it would be a torrential moment. They’d managed to keep Francis a secret so far.  But soon everyone would know, would need to know, that the king of Ferelden had survived. 

Her arms folded across her chest as she awaited his response.  Whatever he would say, she knew better than to try and influence it too much.  He was still the king.

[hatilead]

“  do you want me to stay with you?  ”      @starfalled​    +     francis 

          CHILD OF THE STARS LOOKS AT THE BOY BESIDES HIM        .          reaches out to entwine fingers laying on top of white coloured blanket.  whoever it was that had decided that the hospital wing should look so much like   ...    well,   a hospital,   really,   really had no taste nor an eye for decoration.    ❝ are you worried about me  ?  ❞  would-be author bats his eyelashes,  reaches up to plant a kiss on boyfriend’s cheek. 

sure,  he would be here too if the roles had been reversed.   ravenclaw seeker who had taken a tumble off his broom       ;         a close encounter both with a broom and a bludger to the kneecap.  nothing madame pomfrey couldn’t fix.   ❝ it only hurts when i move  ...   or breathe  ...  or laugh too hard.   really,  francis,  there is no reason for you to stay here.  ❞     (    besides,  would dear poppy even allow such a thing   ?  )      

[ofthelabyrinth]

Send me a 🖐 for my muse’s reaction to your muse sliding their hand up mine’s thigh. - no longer accepting

@starfalled​​​​​  :   🖐 if you're still interested in francis? or dean? dealer's choice. both? i don't know! mind me being slow cause i'm not technically back yet BUT

A peach-sweet smirk touches the lips of the Goblin King, apropos of nothing the other delegates of the dinner can quite figure out: nobody has said anything particularly witty, ribald, or even too altogether droll, and yet that most hated of visages among the Fae is lit with a smirk as soft as the airy scraps of cloth adorning the diners’ laps. There’s no doubt among them, passed between whispers and glances and an odd chitter, that his time among the lesser fae has corrupted him, noble lineage sagging beneath the weight of the populace so intent on dragging him down. What they can’t see, of course, is the hand travelling along his thigh.

It’s a game they play now, a thing graduated from Cat and Mouse to Fae and Mortal and now to something altogether quite peculiar, sometimes one pursuing and sometimes the other, sly and bold by turns, sensual and titillating and somehow still not at the point of being fully, only, or even mostly about seduction. They’ve yet to even kiss and still the touches they trade are enough to burn whole countries.

And that’s what makes the Goblin King smile, and even laugh at a passably-droll comment made by some lady of the Pixie Kingdom, touch lip with tongue and lean back without doing more to acknowledge the touch than to brush the tips of his fingers across Francis’ arm.

The game is afoot, but for how long or in whose favor, it’s all but impossible to say.

“He’s a very pretty thing,” Jareth agrees, circling the young man for the third time as he speaks. He isn’t as young as most of them grab--goblins being notoriously stupid things too drawn in by the bright pall of youth to look for much of anything worthwhile beneath it--which only leads Jareth to believe he must be just as incredibly stupid as his captor, a wayward do-gooder caught up in a goblin’s child-raid. Pity. He’s rugged, and tall, and shaking with things barely contained, angry things, dark things, a lashing out, perhaps. Things Jareth hasn’t seen up close in an age.

He steps up behind the man and looks at the view from over his shoulder: layers of shirts sit in the way, the one closest to the skin wetted down with sweat and the smell of something not altogether human permeating the air--perhaps only the after-stink of the goblin, perhaps not. Jareth drags one hand thoughtlessly over the man’s thigh and feels him jump beneath it: not quite a flinch but not quite NOT a flinch, either. How odd.

“Well.” He steps away and waves one hand at the man as if dismissing him. “It isn’t as though he’s bound to the Castle forever if we send him there. The Bog will always be an option. Have a room prepared and let him into it.”

[ambrcsia]

FRANCIS.  @starfalled​ 

a good book was found in anne’s bruised hands, quickly turning the pages as it pained her to do it any slower. long eyelashes fluttered as her gaze went onto the next row, yet her attention was focused on the footsteps drawing nearer to her. when they got to a specific place in the room, the book was snapped closed and her head lifted. chocolate brown eyes met francis’ blue ones and she let out a soft gasp. her king is before her and she has not shown him respect. slipping from the chair with a pained grunt, angelina dropped to her knees and bowed, head hung low. her long, dark curls fell past her shoulders as she kept her eyes averted.

❝ king francis . . . ❞

all informality was shed the moment he became king, though she had missed his coronation. being in another country while her own gained a new ruler upset anne greatly, but that it was done now. nevertheless, she is glad to have been recovered from england and has made it a point to thank her new monarch every chance she gets.

❝ i would have bowed sooner, but you entered unannounced, so i didn’t know it was you . . ❞

enough excuses. angelina’s head remained lowered, but she risked returning her gaze to francis, and forced a weak smile. unlike the bright and toothy grins she used to send him as children, this one was broken. anne’s time in england only became more evident with every time she smiled. she paused for a while to think of what to say next, but then quickly found it, and the young seer opened her mouth to speak.

❝ i was bored and began reading this book, but i just noticed what a lovely day it is now that your majesty has arrived. ❞

[exhaustedwerewolf]

I’m badly craving a new fantasy podcast (not actual play), so with the caveat that I have listened to a lot of fantasy podcasts, does anyone have any recommendations? I’d prefer high fantasy, but urban fantasy is also welcome. A list of what I’ve heard is under the cut, but feel free to suggest without reading it!

Hello from the Hallowoods

Welcome to Nightvale

The Two Princes

Desperado

Back Again, Back Again

The Attic Monologues

Howl

Care and Feeding of Werewolves

BLOODRAGEMODE

The Second Citadel

Brimstone Valley Mall

The Wanderer

The Virdian Wild

Electromancy

Starfall

The Harrowing of Minerva Damson

The Midnight Symphony

City of Ghosts

Francis Forever

The Magnus Archives

The Once and Future Nerd

Unseen

Goddess

Mabel

...Inevitably there’ll be some I’m forgetting but this is all the fantasy ones I’m already aware of!

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x female reader - Part Three (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for the huge delay on posting this - I was prepping to drive halfway up the country last week, and then when we got here my mother in law fell and badly broke her arm at the shoulder, and had to go to the local hospital, with surgery scheduled for Monday, so it’s been... busy...

Here’s part three of cranky spooder, with part four (final, long, and nsfw) scheduled for next Wednesday so that even if there’s more drama up here in the Lakes, you’ll still get your story.

This one is shorter, but I still hope you enjoy it. The fact that he's a widower is brought up, and the fire in which his wife and unborn eggs died is also mentioned, but briefly, and in no real detail. Hope you enjoy getting to know him a little better, and we find out his name in this one too.

On Monday morning, you pushed the door open with no small degree of trepidation, but found it deserted. Your task for that morning would take you up the wooden and brass ladders into the upper reaches of the library shelves, up and down, up and down. It was exhausting, but you welcomed the exertion after days of standing over piles of books and noting down titles.

On your fifth trip down, arms laden with books, you heard your name spoken from below, but as you looked down, your foot slipped, and the books rained down to the ground.

With a shout, you scrabbled for the ladder rung but missed, and found yourself falling through the void behind you. There were easily fifteen feet between you and the hard floor, but before you could even process what was really happening, something cushioned your back and you bounced softly, swaying perhaps four feet off the ground.

Looking around, you found that you were lying in a hammock of white webbing, slung hastily from a shelf nearby and gripped in the front talons of a drider’s two front legs.

Carefully, he lowered it to the ground and held out his hand to you. Shaking, you stepped from the webbing, too surprised to notice that it wasn’t sticky, and let him lead you back to the table. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, adrenaline still flooding through you.

“I thought I wasn’t going to catch you for a second there.”

“Thank you,” you managed. “That would have been a nasty fall…”

“I shouldn’t have distracted you like that. It was thoughtless of me.”

Looking up at him as he cringed away slightly, you found yourself asking, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Why?”

You shrugged. “Everyone calls you ‘the master’, but you’re not my master. I don’t work here.”

“Yes you do,” he said, glancing at the table groaning with books for reshelving.

“Only for another four months,” you said. “I mean… I’m not part of your staff. I don't know what to call you.”

He swallowed thickly and half turned from you, showing you his profile. He had a slightly hooked nose and a sharp chin, and his dark, glowering brows didn’t lend any softness to his already angular and gaunt face. “Gilvas,” he said, so softly you nearly missed it. “My name is Gilvas.”

“Well, Gilvas,” you said with a faint chuckle, “I think we’ve got to find a way to stop scaring the living shit out of each other whenever we meet… Unless you want to keep shaking me from the stacks like an apple from a tree…”

He stepped back then and blinked softly. The tiniest smile graced his lips and he stared at you. “Perhaps we should,” he said. Taking another few steps back, his legs moving like silent mechanical levers in an inventor’s toy, he swallowed again and sighed. “What are you working on today?”

Your gaze dropped to the scattered books and you picked one up and held it out to him. “See for yourself.”

He reached falteringly for the book and missed, eyelids fluttering. “Like I care anyway,” he said, turning and leaving.

“Wait,” you called. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

At that, he halted again. “Excuse me?”

“I forgot…” you admitted. “I forgot that…”

“That what?”  he snarled, rounding on you and rearing up again, though only slightly this time. His pendulous body acted as a counterweight and he hung there like a nightmare between the shelves. “That I can’t see you in this light? That catching you was a literal shot in the dark? That I can’t read the title of a book this close to my face?” He brandished the tome before flinging it roughly into the depths behind you.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

Your admission must have taken the wind out of him because he sagged, returning his lethally-clawed spider legs to the ground again and turning away, resting his weight on the shelf with a hand as he did so. “I shouldn't have lost my temper,” he said quietly, and then left.

Chance meetings with him after that seemed to occur more regularly, though none matched that one for drama, to your relief. Finally, on one rainy afternoon as you stood by the window taking a break, he approached you. His hair was tied back off his face that day, revealing its gaunt angles and bruised-looking shadows. He was clearly a wreck of his former self, but you thought you could see the ghost of who he had been.

“You’ve finished the first four sections,” he stated.

You turned from the rainy view and nodded. “Yeah. It’s still a lifetime’s work to fix all this, you know? I’m just grouping it by category. If you want a detailed catalogue of everything that’s in here, you need to hire someone permanently.”

He nodded. “I’m aware. Though frankly, I can’t see the point. When I die, the whole estate will be broken up anyway.”

The bluntness of his words took you by surprise and you paced over to him. He wavered, as if on the point of stepping back into the safety of the shadows, but he remained where he was. He had the body of a black widow spider, you had come to realise, with the black carapace marked with the hourglass of red. The red streak in his hair highlighted it, and the colour was picked up again in his inhuman, garnet-red eyes and in the swirling, watercolour birthmark across the right side of his face and neck.

“Don’t say that,” you breathed.

“Why not?” he scoffed. “It’s the truth. I have no heirs.”

“Gilvas…” you began, but you stopped. It wasn’t your place. In the months you’d been here, all the two of you had discussed was poetry and shared the odd comment on whatever your current topic was.

With a long inhale, he said, “Tell me about yourself?”

“What about me?” you laughed. “I’m an archivist, my best friend is an orc, I’ve lived in Starfall Springs all my life, save for going to the university at Old Trollbridge, and —”

“What college?”

“At Trollbridge?” you asked. “Lady Francis.” Lady Francis of the Barbed Arrow, to give it its full title, but no one called it that.

He smiled. “I was at Calnehouse.”

Something softened in him then as he trailed his elegant, if bony, fingertips along the edge of the table.

“Met my wife there.”

Your heart leapt. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned her - or anything personal really. “What did she study?” you asked in a whisper.

“Foreign languages,” he said, voice catching. “She was brilliant.”

“You must have loved her very much…” you offered, your words feeling empty and inadequate.

Meekly, he nodded. “She would have liked you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.”

With a shy smile, you ventured, “May I ask why?”

He twitched his head in a ‘follow me’ gesture, and you walked by his side to the back of the library. A panel stood between two wide bookshelves, and he pressed a rosette amid the ornate carving. With a click, it sprang free from the wall, and he ducked through it with barely a whisper of room on each side of his body, leaving you to follow after. As the door closed behind you, the corridor was plunged into complete darkness.

You gasped and shot a hand out for the wall.

“This way. It’s not far,” Gilvas murmured, and a moment later, a shaft of light pierced through the absolute blackness and the pair of you emerged at the other end in an unfamiliar part of the house.

“Where are we?” you asked as you watched him squeeze through and step down into a slightly lower passage. He turned and, to your surprise, offered you his hand.

You took it and found his skin cool, almost cold, and his grip strong despite the slight tremble to his fingers. He steadied you and then let go, allowing you to look around. Portraits hung all down the corridor and you stared from one to the other of them. Most seemed to be of driders, although you picked out a tiefling in one, and what appeared to be a human in another.

Finally, your eyes lighted on a striking likeness of a young, female drider with pure white hair and lavender skin. “Is that…?”

Silently, he nodded and blinked slowly.

You crossed to her and stared up at the modestly sized painting. The drider was laughing, caught on the moment of turning to look out at the viewer, hair swirling. You thought of all the life and vivaciousness he’d missed out on since holing himself up in here after her death. “She’s beautiful,” you choked. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“There was a fire,” he said. “Took out the whole east wing. Gutted it. I… I couldn’t reach them.”

“Them?” you blurted unthinkingly.

“She was… She was with…”

A chill plunged through you as you remembered what Naril had told you, and you turned from the painting. “Stop,” you hissed. “You don't have to relive that. I’m sorry.”

He blinked down at you, face achingly sad. “I’m glad you came here, you know?”

“I thought I was just a nuisance, reorganising all your books and getting in the way…”

He managed a weak, wonky smile and shook his head. “This place has been the same for too long.”

With a quick glance back over your shoulder at the laughing drider, you asked, “How… Low long?”

“Nine years,” he said. “She died in our last year of university. In the spring.”

“And you’ve lived here alone all this time?”

“I’m not alone,” he said, turning and looking pointedly down the length of the corridor.

Frowning, you turned and found Chiara standing at the far end, gawping at the pair of you. “My lord?” the harpy croaked, looking stunned to find you there. “Is…?” she looked from you to him again. “Is everything alright?”

His lip twitched fractionally, and he nodded. “I was just…” he sighed. “Never mind. I should let you get back to work. I promise not to shake you from the rafters again.”

“Only if you promise to catch me,” you grinned as he opened up the passageway for you.

He faltered. And then nodded. “Deal.”

Final Part --->

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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