#aromantic fairytales

[hylianengineer]

A aromantic prince has been turned into a frog

It's a curse only true love can break

So he spends months trying to fall in love, trying to stop being who he is because god dammit he's not a frog either!

After yet another unsuccessful date, he begins to despair for his future which is looking more amphibious by the minute.

A loud noise disturbs his brooding as something comes crashing through the undergrowth. He's barely gotten his little froggy feet underneath him before a tiny (but still quite big if you're a frog!) hand is scooping him into the air.

A little kid sees the frog on the grass.

They grab it before he has the chance to protest and kiss him square on his slimy little head.

He transforms back into a very confused human.

No, this is not a Renesme moment, gross. Not romantic love or even friendship, just the blind joy of a kid who thinks frogs are super cool. The child loves every amphibian she's ever set eyes on, but that doesn't make it any less real. And she grows up to be a biologist who studies frogs, because of course she does. The prince pays her tuition as thanks for returning him to his proper form. She was like 4 years old at the time and doesn't even remember the frog incident - there's just some random rich dude paying for her college because of something she doesn't remember, but she's not complaining because grad school is expensive as heck.

[the--last-great-american-dynasty]

concept: fantasy novel where there’s a princess that’s kidnapped at 17 and stuck in tower by a witch except she’s an introvert and this got her out of being queen AND there’s a library so she really vibes with her time there.

and then a knight comes and ‘saves’ her but she’s like ‘fuck you, bring me back’. but he doesn’t and they get to the kingdom to find that the knight was promised her hand in return. except the witch who kidnapped her is a lesbian and also in love with her and finds her and is like ‘run away with me!’

plot twist: the princess is aro ace and is like ‘absolutely not, tf’

the witch kills the knight in rage. the king is despairing to find his daughter a husband and creates a quest to get some magical object to which the princess is like fine, I’ll just get it myself so I don’t have to marry anyone’

cue quest where princess gathers a bunch of other aro ace spectrum characters and they band together to beat the witch and a bunch of men to find this object

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Everything Under the Moon

Anthology of queer reimaginings of fairytales by mostly Australian authors

various genres, from contemporary to fantasy and sci-fi, mostly about older teens

mlm, sapphic, trans, nonbinary, demi, bi ace, and aromantic characters, some stories focusing on romance but many on familial relationships and siblings

[hoshikoxhikari]

fuck I forgot to post on here!

Anyways, have a boyo grieving his friend in a coma inside a coffin! Cuz the world was a bit of an ass

[that-disabled-princess]

No option for alloros, this is for the aros.

[doratonkslupingaunt]

About to go to sleep, literally hugging my pillow in the dark, when I remembered one of my favourite romances ever - Wolf and Virginia from The 10th Kingdom, and how she fell in love with the msn who tried to eat her grandmother.

I'm so fucking lucky I'm aroace or I'd be dead by now.

[sminny-wew]

And what if I decided to restructure the fairytale OCs I've had since like 8th grade into a story about being aspec and finding community and defying the fate that someone else tries to force upon you??? What then huh?????

[mossbone]

There once was a lovely maiden who was kind, curious, and compassionate. She loved nature, her neighbors and all those she saw at the market each day, all the children and elderly, all the small animals, and every forgotten beautiful thing. She had a heart full of every kind of love—so full there was no room left for romance. This suited her just fine; she was much too busy learning everything she could about geology and botany and medicine and sailing to spare more than a cursory thought toward the concept of soulmates that seemed to plague her peers.

She did well in school, and grew a marvelous garden and after school began her own apothecary. It pleased her parents well to see her succeed and be so content. However, as the years began to pass her parents began to let go of their content; they wished for her to find a husband. She did not especially wish for a husband, but she did wish to please her parents, so she began to look at the men who came into her shop.

Some were great hunters, who came and bought her soothing balms to tend to fearsome injuries from wild animals. She looked at their full stomachs and furred clothing and thought of how it could be nice to have someone keep the wild animals out of her land, so she did not have to lay awake at night listening to the howls of the wolves and tremble a little. She picked one man who had laugh lines around his face and deep tanned skin, and asked if he was married (she knew he was not, but didn’t know how else to go about bringing up the subject). He looked long and hard at her, responded he was not, and then brightened considerably and began spending more time in her shop, lingering for several hours telling jokes that made her laugh long and hard. She liked him very much, and soon they began courting, which pleased everyone in town.

It was four months into their courtship, when she was 24, that he picked her up after she closed the apothecary and something was different. His clothes were not the usual rough leather jerkin but tidy and soft. His beard was trimmed and his hair was combed, and he looked remarkably nervous. The lovely maiden suspected what was about, and asked for the chance to change into clean clothes before they embarked on an evening walk. He acquiesced, and when she had put on a frock with no powdery spice stains, and her nicest bonnet, they took a quiet stroll through the town. He took her on a meandering path that went all the way to the pier and then they sat on a bench. The lady missed his jokes very much and began to feel rather upset in her stomach, although she could not figure out why. Surely it was just nerves of excitement.

It was not long, of course, before her hunter took her hands very eagerly and confessed his deep love for her and his desire to marry her. His words were full of passion and sincerity and it made her feel sick. She realized quite suddenly that his emotions for her were far greater than hers for him could ever be; it frightened her a little, and made her feel guilty in great amount. She leapt to her feet, stuttered out apologies and regretfully explained she’d just come to the conclusion that she could not marry him. Then, watching the heartbreak come across his face like an avalanche—and not being able to understand, quite, how he could feel so bereft—she fled the scene. Well her parents and old lady neighbors asked questions that she dodged, except to clarify that the young man had not hurt her or done anything wrong, really, so there was no need for shunning or shaming. And then she threw herself into her work and another year passed quite pleasantly, and her business boomed. On her twenty-fifth birthday her parents began hinting again about marriage and partnership and settling down with love to raise babies, and she thought long and hard on the matter.

Again she turned her eye to the men who came into her shop. This time she thought of the additions that could be added to her garden, the leaks in her little cottage, and focused on the men who were renowned builders. The ones who came into her shop looking for glues and twine, and especially she focused on the men who perused the moisturizers and scented oils. She did not want to live with someone who had poor grooming. Along came a man who was known for his kind nature and very clever fingers. All the children in town loved him because he would craft them little toys made out of twine and twigs, and soon enough he began bringing sweet little gifts for the lovely apothecary owner. She knew the signs, and found him to be quite up to her standards indeed. She was a very ethical woman, and felt that this time around she must make her intentions clearer. So when he came around and asked if they could go for dinner at the usual romantic site favored by couples in town, she sat him down and explained that she would never feel more for him than strong friendship, probably, but if he was alright with that she would try it gladly. Well, it took some convincing for him to understand she meant it quite confidently, and then he got very quiet and said politely that he appreciated her honesty, but he was not interested in that very much at all.

So the months passed and she felt very complicated emotions, but in the end she was alright. The next man who asked after her she told the same thing, and he said some very unkind things that made her feel rather glad she’d said it upfront. His words hurt all the same, but luckily she had too much common sense and self-worth to take them to heart. After all, how could she be unfeeling, incapable of human emotion, when she loved her town and all the people in it so dearly? Her heart was bursting with fullness and love, so obviously that man was wrong and had some deep thinking to do on how he saw the world. Another man, more well-off than most and known for being an efficient worker, came to her shop and she saw the usual glimmer in his eye. When he brought her flowers, she explained it to him much the same. He listened carefully, then took a good long look at her sweet lovely face and her kind manners and her neatly kept shop, and said he didn’t mind. At first she was pleased, but then after a little time he began talking of his expectations for her as a wife and she found she didn’t care for them very much at all. When she explained as much, he scoffed and said she wasn’t likely to find someone else willing to put up with her not being madly in love with them. Well, that was the end of that relationship, and several more years passed without any significant developments in that area.

She learned a great deal and expanded her shop, even hiring two assistants so she could keep track of the many orders. She bought a little sailboat and took entire days off to sail by herself up and down the coast with packed meals, and had a great many small adventures. She met all kinds of men, some whom she found very handsome and had lots of fun with. But a pattern always seemed to emerge. They often said they didn’t mind if she felt less for them than they did her, but as time passed and their own feelings deepened, they eventually would mind and some admitted they thought she’d change her feelings with enough time. She began to get a little frustrated and finally swore off serious relationships altogether, although she still had occasional good times with men who were looking for nothing more. When she was thirty-three and her parents had given up on talks of marriage but still occasionally looked at her empty house and sighed wistfully, a new man came into town. He came into her shop in quite a fright asking for something to help with cramps and soothing scented oils and bath salts for his daughter, who had just turned thirteen and was apparently in great distress over her body’s recent developments.

The kind shop owner inquired as to whether the girl’s mother could help, and the man answered that her mother had died seven years ago and he had forgotten most all the things he should explain to the girl, but remembered the treatments that had been favored by her mother. She liked the way he talked and the way he obviously doted on his daughter, so she had him bring her in and she explained a great deal about biology to the girl, who had bright eyes and many questions. The man was very pleased and brought her a delicious fresh-caught sea meal in thanks. He was a fisherman, it turned out, and was planning on settling in this town for quite a while. Well, she invited him to go on her boat with her so she could show him some of the quiet spots where fish pooled in great quantities, and they laughed a lot and enjoyed each other’s company. Two nights after that he came to her shop with flowers, saying that his daughter had picked them and demanded he deliver them for her, and she sat him down and had the usual talk.

He quite surprised her. When she told him she could not feel more for him than the love of friends, his spirits lifted considerably. He confided that he still loved his wife tremendously, but no one ever seemed to believe him when he said he could never try to love anyone as much as her—had no desire to try, in fact. So he’d given up on explaining, and really had brought the flowers just to make his daughter happy. Well, this was very agreeable to the shopkeeper, and she thought of the advantages if the two of them were to join forces, and proposed to him that they might get everyone off their backs if they began courting each other. He was amenable to the idea, but warned her he really wouldn’t fall in love and she shouldn’t say yes to this thinking he would change his mind with enough time. She fell asleep with a smile every night for a month when she thought of his words, and some of those nights she fell asleep with him beside her after they’d had a very fun evening indeed.

After about ten months they agreed things were going very well and had a wedding on the beach. Her parents were overjoyed, his daughter was delighted, and all the old ladies in town were very pleased indeed. The shopkeeper liked him well enough but sometimes wanted space and would go on her sailing adventures alone, and this was fine with her husband. Sometimes she found him awake at night on their porch, gazing wistfully at the sea, and she knew his heart was still claimed by another. She felt for his pain, but was not envious of his love. Some nights they slept in the same bed, some nights they preferred their separate rooms, and when she gave birth to twins they found they made a rather good team at raising babies. A long and pleasant story short: they never fell in love and they all lived happily ever after.

[barbie-pride-flags]

Aro pride flag color picked from Delphine from Fashion Fairytale!

[idyllic-affections]

PLATONIC LIFE PARTNERS. THATS BASICALLY WHAT BAIZHU AND CHILDHOOD FRIEND!READER ARE

[puddingvalkyrie]

Been a while since I updated this, and since it's pride month... From left to right: (I'm largely assuming people who know Vampires Don't Belong in Fairytales are the ones reading this but I'll add the briefest of descriptions I guess??) Louis: An actual gay fairy. Do not try to use that as an insult anywhere near him. I mean just don't use that an insult. Like, wtf. Tyrian: Bi. And polyamorous. Vampire fairy king. I'm not sorry. Will: Demi. Human. Court jester. Likes Shakespeare. Worries he is a 'billionaire romance' protagonist. He is right to be worried. (I mean, he's not, but he is???) Sara: Ace. Elf queen of Sheva. Led a rebellion to depose a tyrant. Runs not-a-guild to rent out heroes and other story people. Aurelia: Aromantic. Cat yokai. Ex-fool. Basically a bodyguard for Tyrian, and his best friend. Azalea: Lesbian. Succubus. Love potion dealer. Yes, love potions are illegal.   Senna. Lesbian. Djinni. I .. spoilers??? Kiko: transwoman. Fox yokai. Runs a yokai bar for foreign types in the Dark Realm capital of Fairyland. Hettie: Lesbian. Vampire human. Can't be doing with this vampire lark. Training to be the Otherworlds' first magical girl. Hugo: Demi. Vampire human. Privateer - which in this universe means 'pirate hunter'. Unlike other vampires, can't do magic at all. He doesn't care. Punching works fine. Rosie: Demi. Human. Witch. Lives in the middle of an enchanted woodland in a cottage covered in flowers. Doesn't like people much. Originally from Earth. On the verge of vampirism and Not Okay with it. Zaran: Non-binary (and intersex). Human.  Paral of Gandar. (Paral is the Gandarian non binary equivalent of prince/princess) Likes horses. Likes painting. Doesn't like country getting conquered by a warlord. Doing something about it. all characters (c) Alicia L. Wright Vampires Don't Belong in Fairytales (c) Alicia L. Wright Miss Prince, The Map is the Treasure, Vampires Don't Belong in Fairyland, Magic and Other Things in Bottles and Fairy Roots (c) Alicia L. Wright

[out-of-context-aro-ace]

Read a simplified version of Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare

And the guy has to choose one of three boxes to marry the girl

And if he chooses wrong, he has to leave and promise never to marry anyone again

And, like, we should do that!

We should purposely choose the wrong box and go on with our lives

And if someone asks why we're not married we tell them the story!

Just need to find someone who has this condition set 🕵️‍♀️

[yeehawpim]

The Bride And Her Flowers

Once upon a time, there was a lady. 

Unfortunately, as ladies were often obligated to at the time, this one was told she must marry. The husband-to-be was an oil baron far in the north, who her father had business dealings with. The lady did not want to leave her friend for a stranger and a strange land, but her father wouldn’t concede to her pleas.

“It’s sad,” he told her, “but we are a failing house and I no longer have the means to provide you comfort. The baron is kind and sympathetic, and he will make sure you live in safety.”

His voice regretful but firm, her father held her hands until she pulled from his grasp in disappointment. 

“I see no joy in marriage,” the lady whispered, just as firm.

“Perhaps not today, and perhaps not on your marriage day, but one day you may love him. Please do this thing and be safe, for you may find your happiness still in the rest of your years.”

She looked upon her father’s beseeching face and knew at once that she could not explain that she was not capable of this kind of love, and that its expectation would suffocate her yet. He’d loved his wife terribly when she was alive, and would not be able to comprehend an ideal life without courtship.

So the lady stared down her nose and agreed.

The sun lowered as her social duties ended, and she left to find the gardener. Her father hadn’t been lying about their worsening standing, sections of servants had disappeared along with his ability to pay them and the groundskeepers were among the departed. Now, the dandelions and morning glory crept between roses in a slow invasion.

It was there the gardener lived, her skin the deep dark of ivy leaves and words soft as clover fuzz. Behind a shed where the groundsmen had kept their tools, the lady reached a delicate arm into the darkness of a hollow tree and pulled from it her dearest friend.

Together they sat in the warmth of the setting sun and the lady spoke of her impending marriage. The overgrown topiary surrounding them cast shadows on their faces, and the gardener’s eyes winked like two oily coins in the sun. She listened to the lady’s dilemma with stillness. Only when it was finished did she speak with a voice like wind through the trees.

“I cannot follow you to this new home in the north, the land is all stone and snow with no warmth for flowers. But you are brave and clever, and I know you will find a way out of loneliness.”

Under the red light of sunset, the gardener took the lady’s hands in hers and squeezed in an imitation of human reassurance. Her mouth smiled in rows of thin, neat teeth, and her friend felt her heart warm at the effort made.

From the ankle-high grass they sat on, the gardener reached down and plucked two gifts from the obediently parted earth. With ritualistic care she presented them in two splayed palms, fingers opening like spider’s legs.

“I give this freely for your safety.” 

In her left hand, a hemlock root.

“I give this freely for your joy.”

In her right hand, a sprig of rosehips.

The gifts are pressed into the lady’s open hands and she receives them with polite reverence. Still, she can’t keep a smile from her own mouth. When the items are carefully pocketed, the lady holds out her own fist. The tilt of her eyes is all at once merry and casual as only humans can be, and when she says the words they are half a tease.

“I give this freely for your joy too, and to remember me when I am gone.”

Into the gardener’s waiting hand drops a golden bracelet, still warm from the lady’s wrist. When she smiled a thin-toothed smile it was wider than any human’s.

That night the lady slept with her gifts under her pillow and dreamed of the corners of her father’s gardens, where groundskeepers gave the weeds leniency and ignored the old hollowed tree. Long dead and crawling with moss and ants, it was just the right size for a young girl.

When the tutors came searching, they stared straight at her through the gaps and their eyes glazed until they left again. Together in the hidden dimness, she and the gardener giggled.

Autumn, and the girl hides biscuits in her pockets for a gift fairly stolen. Winter, and the gardener presents a small hibernating animal for a gift fairly killed. Spring, and they weave crowns from wild daisies and speak of the silly rules they must live by. 

Along with tutors and a loving father that nevertheless expects grace and compliance, she saw the way dew sparkles on spiderwebs and how a hare can fall in a moment to claws. 

“Etiquette and embroidery are not all the world is,” her friend’s voice whispered.

“Play this human game, but never let it make you small.”

She takes in the lessons of propriety and is silent the way a lady must be, but with the gardener, she finds her voice amongst an equal. The girl grows into a lady like a caterpillar into a butterfly, isolated and visceral. 

When she wakes, it's summer again and she is ready.

Rushed into a carriage with farewells and a promise to write, a long and uneventful ride stretches out in front of her. The wheels rattle underneath for hours turned into days. Outside, forests recede into mountain paths and breaths begin to cloud in thick clouds, there and gone in a moment.

Tucked carefully into her cloak, the outline of her gifts were the only reassurance she took as they drew near. Even with the gardener’s words in the back of her mind the possibility of a cruel husband is something all ladies know well.

It was with this thought that she arrived at her new husband’s grounds, alone as the hired attendees collected their contracts and left. She did not meet him until a day later, when he returned from a hunt with the corpse of a deer draped across his horse and the scent of gunpowder following his steps. His coat was red, and she wondered if any of it was blood, if it was a fair kill. 

When he descends from his horse she notices there is discomfort when he looks up at her— not the kind her tutors insist will be disapproval when men inevitably see she is taller than most of them, but the kind unused to formality. When he speaks she is struck with how young he is.

“I see we shall be married on the morrow.”

It sounded half a question.

“Yes, we shall.”

In the silence that followed the lady was content to watch the baron squirm. If she was to suffer the insult of being an owned thing, she would not comfort her would-be master. When he said nothing more, she turned with a sweep of her gown and left for the hallways of his manor to be out of the cold.

Unbeknownst to the lady, with her three words the man was hopelessly, terribly in love. He’d grown in a similar fashion to her in a way, with expectations, wealth, and entitlement that culminated in years of loneliness. He could not see this in himself but it is where the love was born, sprouting from the idea of a wife that he may rely on.

At dinner, they sat at each end of a long table. The orange glow of candlelight obscured his red face and stolen glances, but there was nothing to hide behind when he begins to speak.

“Your father insisted the wedding take place as quickly as possible, I’ve had the arrangements made before you arrived. My servants can show you around everything.”

When she says nothing, he continued haltingly, “I’m sure that no dress could match your beauty.”

No response comes. In the candlelight and darkened surroundings he is spared her expression of dread. There is no telling if that would have been enough to make a difference, but when she requested to speak of something else the plea was ignored. So quiet you could almost miss it, an assumption of shyness instead of unease was made.

Without the option of making her discomfort clear, the lady suffered increasingly clumsy comments about her appearance in silence. There was nothing else he knew about her. When they eventually ran out, they suffered silence.

It wasn’t until the hall started to quieten as dinner came to an end that she remembered what came next. All of a sudden the marriage bed loomed.

[hoshikoxhikari]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

(Read left to right)

After the villains snatched Snow White's magic mirror, it is time to finally put their plans into action, but it seems the mirror itself isnt all that cooperative...

Whooo! Finally I'm done with this comic! It took me ages since I've been working on it on and off. Anyways, I made this to flesh my new ocs out and a bit of the world which fortunatly it was a sucess on that regard. Although I did had to rush the art in order to finish it not like in 10000 years, so yeah hope yall like it!

[monstrouscrew]

ssssooooooo. you won't believe it, but we are here. again. back from our friendly visit to the Dreamlands.

missed the voices (my ritual of listening in the dark, eyes closed, under the blanket and hugging my plush Artie. i like rituals. i need them for comfort.)

TRAIN STATION SOUNDS <2222222222

old woman's voice that sounds like a real old woman's voice :) (English speaking folks don't know, but i remember an example of a male actor playing and voicing an old witch (a wonderful one!) in my first language quite well)

cursed/haunted attic rooms are wonderful :) it's a very comfortable place, except a few details and _visions_ John has.

what's interesting... Arthur's nightmares include Yellow now. (i want to hug Yellow. no saving or helping or fixing. just this) is it guilt, human?..

what's even more interesting is. no bag, right?

hmmmm.

they had a few useful items in it.

hmmmmm.

and, yes. messages to the fans.

1) friends. queer-is-bad bad do not touch do not speak with your distorted words about normal men

2) DO NOT ASK WHO OR WHAT KAYNE IS)))))))

i liked the episode. i'll just keep these in mind.

[sminny-wew]

Hands as a love language