#fairytale friday

[traumendesmadchen]

Now that our visual novel Chronotopia: Second Skin has been released, we’re starting an event called ✨Fairytale Friday✨. Every Friday, we’ll discuss a tale from the game’s archives! 😃

Today we’re taking a closer look at The Princess and the Pea 👸.

This is basically the princess test: if one single pea is placed in your bed, will you be able to feel it (even under 20 mattresses)? 🛏️🛏️🛏️

If so, congratulations, you’re a princess! Here’s your prince as a reward 🤴.

To me this one has always felt more like a joke about fairytale princesses rather than a real tale 📚.

Mentioning Andersen in Chronotopia can also be considered cheating since he has little ties to foklore but I really wanted to squeeze in ONE reference 😆.

💜 Consider buying Chronotopia on itchio for Creator Day!💜

[imaginedreamwrite]

Oh Fairytales, how fun!

Could I ask for the Wildest Dream trio with Sleeping Beauty? They all knew each other as toddlers before reader is taken away for safety and they meet each again in early adulthood...

...before reader gets her finger pricked and fall asleep.

The two future kings were lost, they knew they were and no manner of map-skills would’ve helped them in the thicket of trees. They were frustrated and aggravated by the hunt they had went on hours ago, the trip meant to come before the long process of finding their queen. With a huff, Steve had rumpled the map and tossed it into a creek, not bothering with the egregious thing any longer than he had to.

“It’s your fault we’re lost-“

“Don’t blame me-“ Steve had countered Bucky’s statement, rolling his eyes as he stepped into a soft clearing and then he had come to a sharp stop.

Before them in the clearing was a girl who was their age, just a few months before turning 16, walking along the edge of the clearing with a basket in her hands. Steve was enraptured by her and the soft humming that echoed in the clearing, the sounds radiating as she had busied herself picking berries. He was speechless, unable to breathe as he recognized her from their childhood, the friend who had been cursed and hidden away.

“You took the wrong turn-“ Bucky had walked directly into the back of Steve, his hands falling to hips hips to stabilize himself, and then he looked past his best friend and future king. “She looks familiar-“

“Y/N.” Steve spoke your name with a soft entrancement, stealing your attention and drawing the hums to a close. “It’s Y/N.”

“Steve,” Bucky came to stand by Steve, his hand brushing against Steve’s, their amazement and shock unbound, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” You questioned them, inhaling sharply when Steve started to cross the clearing, his hand outstretched toward you cheek as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You disappeared. One day we were running together in the halls of the castle and the next…” Bucky trailed off, following after Steve to stop before you. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re okay,” Steve’s smile was bright and soft, endearing in the most natural way, “you can come back with us. We can be together-“

“I can’t.” You cut him off, shrugging him off with melancholy. “The castle sounds beautiful but I can’t…I can’t leave. I’m safe here-“

“We can keep you safe, Steve and I-“ Bucky reached for you, he had reached for your hand and grasped the tips of your fingers, just barely holding onto you before you had pulled away as if you’d been burned.

“You need to leave. You have to leave. You need to forget you ever saw me.” you picked up your basket and the skirts of your dress, running from them toward the edge of the clearing, knowing they were chasing after you.

“Y/N, wait-!” Bucky had almost grabbed hold of your arm, he had almost reached for you when the trees themselves had reacted as if they were alive, closing around you like a shield.

“Y/N! You don’t have to run anymore!” their voices were silenced behind you, they were closed off and you were once again embraced by the forest, safeguarded from the curse that plagued you.

[greyeisacreativecolor]

The yule lads are very interesting to me, being called out specifically as regional santa claus figures despite their primary story being about causing mischief. Apparently they put little gifts in good kids shoes, and rotten potatoes in bad kids shoes, but this doesn't seek connected to their original characterization, or how much more brutal their mother is.

[kickingcorners]

fairytale friday: princess and the pea

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday 🖤

Tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @weewootruck @fionaswhvre @jesuisici33 @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend Thank you loves!

Tagging (for future or for interest purposes) @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @disasterbuckdiaz @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @stereopticons @buddierights @spotsandsocks @statueinthestone @forthewolves @911onabc @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @heartshapedvows @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess special shoutout to @ladydorian05 for the inspiration for this scene

It's late but it's still Friday somewhere and I put too much effort in to not post this. Please enjoy a long snippet of The Darkest Fairytale (aka cat!buck/witch!eddie). Prev snippet here. Putting it under the cut because there's some mild description of mishandling Buck while he's in cat form. For reference Buck and Eddie are both teenagers here.

Evan is- well, he’s a lot of things right now. Scared. Confused. Pissed off. Cornered. 

Maddie isn’t around, their parents are worse than ever and, to top it all off, he’s stuck as a goddamn cat. It’s something that’s happened a few times now. The thing is he has no idea how it happens or what exactly it is he does to become human again. All he knows is that one minute he’s Evan and the next he’s got four legs, paws, fur and a tail. And all he can do is helplessly meow or hiss because apparently nobody can understand him. Right now that’s a big fucking problem. 

Three teenage boys – he’s pretty sure he recognizes them from a rival high school’s football team – are crowding around him, backing him into a clump of bushes and trees. He had just been out for a walk, trying to blow off some steam from the latest fight with his parents, and then he became this. Of course, they noticed.

One is wearing a backwards ballcap, another has a Steelers jersey, and the third one has a Zippo lighter he keeps flicking open and snapping shut. 

“It’s okay, kitty cat. We’re not gonna hurt you,” Jersey Kid says, lunging for Evan as if to prove that’s exactly what they’re planning to do. 

On instinct, Evan swats at him, successfully leaving a deep scratch on his forearm. 

“Dude! What the fuck!” Jersey Kid yells and nearly tries again, but Ballcap stops him. 

“You can’t go being an asshole about it, dumbass.” 

Ballcap leans down, reaching out for Evan. He really should have seen it coming. Unfortunately, Evan is so focused on Ballcap he misses the fact that Lighter Kid is behind him, ready to grab him the moment he’s backed up far enough. 

Evan hisses and growls, flailing his body in an attempt to break free. He thinks he manages to claw at Lighter Kid’s face. Despite his efforts he suddenly finds himself in the dark. Evan stops long enough to realize he’s in a bag of some kind. Maybe a backpack? One of the kids must have had it on them and he never noticed. 

Bile rises in his throat and he’s angrier than before. He lets out a throaty yowl and begins to thrash around again, determined to get away. 

“Christ, Jimmy, is it really worth it for a stupid cat?” One of them says.

“I told you. That’s not just a cat.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s god himself - OW! Fucking thing scratched me through my bag.” 

Good, Evan thinks. At least until the hit comes and he’s knocked to the bottom of the pack. 

“Knock it the fuck off.”

He’s going to get out of here. If he has to wait until they open the bag so he can dart off, so be it, but he’s getting the fuck away from them. 

“Hey!” 

A new voice, another boy not part of the original group. Evan makes himself as small as possible, hoping this person won’t catch on that he’s there. 

“You got some kinda animal in there?” Shit.

“What the fuck do you care?” Backpack kid sneers. “It’s none of your business.”

“Well,” New Guy says, “It kinda is based on the way you just elbowed that bag. Pretty sure no one does that and says ‘knock it the fuck off’ to a textbook.”

Backpack kid makes some kind of offended sound, and there’s muffled offerings from the other two. It feels like they’re moving again, but that doesn’t last long before the bag slams into his back and they come to a stop. After that everything becomes a bit of a blur. 

Evan can’t help the surprised yowl that escapes when the bag gets thrown to the ground. At least that’s where he hopes he is. Outside there’s what sounds like shoving, grunting and cursing. Evan scratches frantically at the zipper line hoping to escape while everyone is distracted. It’s not budging though. Distantly he thinks he hears more yelling, but then everything falls silent except for the sound of footsteps approaching. 

“Hey there.” New Guy’s voice is soothing. There’s no hint of malice like the others. Still, Evan isn’t entirely sure he can trust him and prepares to bolt when he has the chance. 

A thin stream of light shines in, growing wider as the zipper opens. He watches the gap increase until he’s certain there’s enough clearance. Evan wants to quickly get as far away as possible, but not before making sure New Guy knows not to mess with him. He wriggles through the opening right into New Guy’s hands. 

Evan squirms and bites. Hard. New Guy tenses but doesn’t fight Evan. He simply deposits him gently in the grass. 

“It’s okay little one. You’re safe now.” 

New Guy has tan skin, dark brown hair that falls forward over his forehead, and eyes the color of a Hershey bar. He smiles at Evan and tentatively holds his hand out as an offering. He smells like sunshine and evergreens.

“I’ll bet someone’s missing you.”

I highly doubt it. 

“Oh.” New Guy abruptly pulls his hand away. “You talk.” 

You- understand me?

“Yeah. I, uh, well. I’m a witch and you’re a familiar, right? Am I not supposed to understand you?” 

Evan’s heard of familiars, but he’s not- that’s not what he is. He didn’t have the slightest inkling he even had any magick until recently. 

I think you’ve got it wrong. Whatever you think I am, I’m not. 

New Guy scrunches his brows for a moment before offering a soft smile and extending his hand again. “I’m Eddie by the way. I didn’t realize you were- or I guess you’re not. Either way I should have maybe introduced myself earlier.”

[the-river-of-light]

thinking about stuff and things and things and stuff

[onceuponanaromantic]

modus operandi

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt: FFF218 How Do You Use It? This isn't related to anything I'm working on but enjoy!)

It wasn’t much, but it had been her mother’s.

Maybe that’s what made it hurt all the more.

            She lets her face press to the cold stone of the bridge, trying to ease the ache of her heavy heart. It shouldn’t matter that she had hand sewn every one of the beads onto the bodice, that she had embroidered every stitch into the skirt by candlelight, that she had never worn it until today. She had stayed up late, squinting by the weak glow of the candlelight, eyes burning and fingers bleeding from where she had pricked them trembling with exhaustion, trying to finish the alterations in time.

            All she had wanted was one night. One moment to remember what she had used to be, what her mother had wished for her.

            The gash in the skirt bleeds where the ink pot was thrown at her. Where she rubs her fingers on it, they still come away black, instead of the blood red it looks under the moonlight. She feels the last sob escape her, bubbling through her throat.

            She is no scholar to win her freedom by sneaking out to take the Civil Service exam as Shen Xiumin did. She has no skill for singing, unlike Huang Meilin, to run away to the stage and hide her face behind the face paint of the opera. She is no warrior to restore her family’s honour as Hua Chenyi did.

            All she had were her hands. All she had were her eyes. The eyes that picked up the beads left behind where noblewomen dropped them from their hems, the calloused hands with unpainted nails that stitched them into the dress.

            “Hush, child.” A voice emerges from behind her. “Why do you cry?”

            She turns, bowing to the fox emerging from the undergrowth, her seven tails swishing. “Lady Fox.”

            The fox’s fathomless eyes dart to the dress. “I see, the Prince will choose a bride tonight at the masquerade, won’t he? He will choose based on the dress.”

            She could not admit that all she had wanted was a single night. She was no great beauty, but she had her skill.

            “You have always been kind to the water spirits and the forest sprites. I will reward you now.”

            The dress lifts into the air as she gazes upon it. The jacket lifts, the skirt puffs outwards before narrowing. When it descends, it is as soft as the mulberry silk only palace nobles could afford, the expensive deep green dye covered with intricate silver and gold where her own once laid.

            And it looks nothing like her mother’s dress.

            “Put it on. It will return to its former state by the hour of the tiger, but you should have time for a dance.”

            But even as she takes it into her hands, she finds her head shaking. “Noble Lady Fox, I cannot accept your gift. For this was my mother’s and it would be a disservice to both of us to wear the dress as it is.” She swallows. “I am sorry, Noble Lady Fox, I am honoured but I still have my pride. I cannot accept this. I cannot wear it to the ball.”

            The fox gazes at her, her dark eyes inscrutable. “Is that your final answer?”

            She nods. “Then very well.”

            The dress disappears from her hands altogether and when she looks up from the ground, the fox is gone too.

            She swallows past the bitterness suddenly in her throat, for she knows better than to demand her dress back.

            Days pass, and the prince announces his bride. She watches as the noblewoman steps up beside him, her hand dainty and soft, her nails painted elegantly, her face powdered and her lips as small and red as cherries. She moves on with her life, until one day, a courtier comes knocking at her door.

            “Are you Xiu Yanli?” The courtier asks, her eyes squinting to read the characters. “Please come with me to the palace.”

            She goes, even though the courtier doesn’t explain, not even when her stepmother demands to know where she’s going, demands that the walnuts will not shell themselves nor the tea steep itself in its pot. She goes, even though she knows she will never be able to come back after this.

            All she had left that meant anything was the dress anyway, and that was taken from her too.

            She stiffens as they reach the palace, but relaxes as they go around to the back. Then, she stiffens again, as she is led through a corridor opulent with gold dragons on the windows and through staircases with deep walnut wood engravings in them. Only the emperor is allowed gold dragons.

            But she doesn’t say anything as she is led into a room. She sinks to her knees, bowing fully as the new empress-to-be stands before her.

            When she raises her eyes though, she cannot help but gasp.

            Her dress lies beautifully against her body, exactly as it looked that night, except the gash was now a silver and gold inlay that spiralled like a cobweb and the ink stain curved into beautiful delicate patterns like a painting of lotuses and bamboo on silk.

            “I am told you are the seamstress who made this?” The empress-to-be’s voice is soft and high.

            “I did the alterations, your Highness. It was originally my mother’s.”

            “How did you make it do that with the beading?”

            She explains but after, she forces herself to speak. “How did you get it?”

            The empress purses her lips, and all of a sudden, she’s reminded that the empress is younger than her. “I’m new to the palace too. Another lady ruined my original dress and I was crying, except a fox came in and offered it to me, if I would recognise the seamstress later.”

            She looks shyly at her. “Would you come and be a handmaiden for me? It’s just… I need a friend. You would stay here, of course, but you can return if you want. I’m not- I don’t mean to force you.”

            She bowed. She bowed deeply and gratefully, before straightening up and smiling.

            “Of course. But can I have my dress back? It isn’t much, but it was my mother’s.”

[thelinnmiser]

So Since Tomorrow Is National Fairytale Day, I'm Gonna Make This BEFORE Total Drama & Spongebob's Version Of Red Riding Hood.

And Yes This Is Gametoons, I'm Back Into THAT Phase While Being Into Poppy Playtime. (Only The Project Playtime & Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 Eras Of Gametoons To Me Are The Best.)

[princesshillaryellaworld25]

FairyTale AU: Sleeping Shirozu

Cast:

Teen Shirozu as Sleeping Beauty/Aurora

Teen Sunny SickHemps as The Prince

Teen Candence(Lila Sky's adopted Daughter/ Shirozu's bully) as Maleficent

Teen Rosie, Teen Melody, Teen Anastasia as the three fairies

Sick Boyfriend and Drugfriend as the king and queen

You're free to add some of your characters into the AU.

This AU, I'm gonna use the Spongebob Parodies Fankids in their Teen years.

[alenei]

I thought I knew a million mythical creatures but I fully was like ‘Moon Fairy?’ Honestly, a mermaid would have been better but I already used this for ‘Ivory Heart’ very bad planning on my side haha 🌑🖤

[themerlinlibrary]

Favourites Friday (Sept 2023) – Fairytale AU

TML Favourites Friday round-up! September 2023 round 2

What is Favourites Friday? – The Basics

a different theme is announced on Friday each week; FF recs must match the theme of the week

only one FF rec per person per week/theme

FF recs must be unique within that week/theme; no double-posting the same fic for one theme!

no self-recs during regular rounds

only self-recs during self-rec rounds (last Friday of each month)

Theme for week 2: Fairytale AU!

something isn’t right, babe (I keep catching little words but the meaning’s thin) by aletterinthenameofinsanity T, 2.7k, Merlin/Arthur Canon AU; Fairytale Retelling

The Fairy Prince and his Noble Paramour by Sunfall_of_Ennien Art, Merlin/Arthur

All is Semblative by Whitefox G, 10k, Merlin/Arthur Canon Era; Cinderella Elements

Coming of Age by astolat G, 6k, Merlin/Arthur Canon AU; Wild Hunt

Counterfeit Princess by JessicaMDawn T, 33k, Merlin/Arthur Canon Era AU

You Must Remember This by seperis E, 6.2k, Merlin/Arthur (?)

Arto-maglos by MerlinMorganEmrys G, 3.4k, Gwen/Arthur Fairytale Fusion (?)

Obedient Prince by AnnikaDHeart T, 11k, Merlin/Arthur Ella Enchanted Fusion

A masterlist of all round-ups can be found here.

If you want to make sure you never miss a FF rec, or would like to participate and share your own favourites; join us on the Discord TheMerlinLibrary! Happy reading!

About the FF round-up lists:

Recs are listed in the order they were posted on the Discord; the order does not imply any sort of ranking.

The pairing given in this list is the main pairing of each respective fic – please read the tags for any possible minor or side-pairings, as well as any potential warnings or triggers.

Pairings and Eras are given as tagged in each respective fic. (?) signifies that the tags were unclear and I do not know enough about the fic to fill the gaps.

Round-ups are compiled on the weekend of the week after the respective theme of the post (when the new theme has already been anounced), to avoid omitting potentially belated FF recs.

The weekly round-up is not a guarantee! I'm running this alone, so it can only be posted for weeks when I have enough time on my hands to compile a list. If you'd like to help out, feel free to contact me on Tumblr ( @zaharya ) or Discord.

[traumendesmadchen]

Now that our visual novel Chronotopia: Second Skin has been released, I’d like to start a new event called ✨Fairytale Friday✨. Every Friday, we’ll discuss a tale from the game’s archives! 😃

Starting with a cult classic: Beauty & the Beast ("La Belle & la Bête" in French). Did you know Beauty had sisters? (And brothers too depending on the version) Of course, they’re awful 😒.

So awful in fact that they get turned into statues and forced to witness Beauty’s happiness for all eternity 🗿. Fairies are scary, huh…

I'm cheating a little bit with this one but the illustration is on point, don’t you think~

💜 Buy Chronotopia on Steam💜

[radioactivepeasant]

This Week's Prompt Schedule:

It's late, I know. Had a dentist appointment this morning and forgot about it 🙃

Thursday: Jak and Daxter rerun while I work on the next chapter of Faulty Info

Friday: Fractured Fairytales rerun, because I'm whittling down which of my fairytales I want to put together in a kind of anthology

[juletheghoul]

I really want to breathe new life into this because the story is so fleshed out in my head and in further chapters there is some Orpheus and Eurydice Inspo that I really want to explore.

The Huntsman (Part 1)

A/N; So I had this idea for a story and it has completely overtaken my life- and for the first time I have a clear vision of where this story will go. I hope you enjoy this because I am super excited about it! Special thanks to @foli-vora & @wheresarizona for listening to me rant about this, and to @frannyzooey for being super supportive with all my insane ideas ♥️♥️♥️

Pairing; Hunter!Frankie x f!reader

Warnings; Supernatural elements - witches / dark deals and implied violence. (smut to come in future chapters) (dark religious themes) Somewhat enemies to lovers, reader is a witch (Lilith's daughter) I have tried to make reader as nondescript as I can, let me know if you find coded language.

Word count; 5K

reblogs are appreciated

———

Queen Amira sighed, her fountain of youth had dried up, and for the first time in eons, real panic was setting in. The witch she’d captured had lasted years, her power - her life had kept Amira young and beautiful. She already saw the signs of decay though, fine lines and a glimpse of her true age creeping in through the gray in her hair.

She had to move quickly, the shadow of her debt loomed over her now, bigger than before - the dark deal she’d made in the first days of her reign what felt like both ages and only moments ago. 

All was not lost, however, before the witch finally succumbed, she confessed her knowledge of another like her, more powerful than any she knew of, Lilith’s daughter. 

She knew who Lilith was, of course, or at least the legend of her. The woman created for Adam, who was spurned when she sought to be his equal and thus became the first witch in existence. She would have been quite the prize, but there was no trace of her. She was as, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, a phantom no one could find, let alone capture. Her daughter, however, she would do nicely.

This was now her prize, the ultimate tool to find Lilith and a way to finally keep the specter of death, of the end of her reign at bay; and she knew just who to send.

At times it felt like a game to see just how quick a person could avert their eyes - something to keep the mind occupied while the hands moved through the practiced movements. The men were always the quickest, whether their eyes were filled with anger or resentment, fear or sometimes hope - they never let you meet their gaze. The children were a little braver, foolish but brave, and you couldn’t help but admire that. 

“Will he survive?” This woman did not flinch away, her eyes were focused and clear, and although her hands trembled, she stood fast and held still while clasping the hand of her ill child. 

“He will, but it will not be easy for him, and a price must be paid.” The fire grew for a moment, a bright flash in the somber darkness of the small cottage. “Something must be offered for his life.”

And the offer must be accepted, but that’s another matter.

The mix of powders on your hand spread across his face and chest when you blew on them, a short burst of breath onto his pale face.

“Anything- just make him better.” The boy's hand was at his mother’s mouth, a kiss he didn’t feel pressed against his knuckles. 

“It will cost one year of life-” Her eyes widened. “From each of you.” The father’s eyes were on you now, and for a time, they were silent - the implications of your words, the price of their son’s health being weighed heavily. 

“I will pay it.” The father spoke first, his voice deep and steady. 

“As will I.” Tears shined on her face, both of them ready and willing to sacrifice what was necessary to save their child's life - you did your best to pin the bulk of your hair out of your face and very quickly got to work. 

-

The clearing where your home stood was a calm place most days, but today the air itself stood still, even the grass and bramble that moved and swayed with the wind like some green ocean seemed frozen, and you knew she was here. Always with the drama. 

The crows- Ivo and Magna flew past your head when you opened the door to your house, their wings batting at your head affectionately before making their place on their perch near your window. 

“Hello, Mother.” You leaned against the open doorway, watching as she came up the little path through the trees, a trail of smoke in her wake. 

“Hello, dear.” She smiled at you, perfect white teeth on display, a cheeky glint in her eye. “Have you been keeping up with your sight?” She was in a good mood. 

“Didn’t need to- you aren’t subtle; I could sense you a mile away - I think you do it on purpose.” You closed the door behind her. “You’ve caught me just getting home.” You busied yourself with the teapot- digging through your stores for the tea she liked-there it is.

“You know I like to pop around every now and then.” She straightened her skirts, pointedly avoiding your gaze, and you knew she’d been spying again. “Check in on the others.” You sighed loud before turning to face her.

“What did you see?” You brought the tea cups over to your table, lips pursed. She furrowed her perfect brow dramatically - mock outrage on her pretty features. 

“Such distrust! Can I not crave the company of my only daughter? Can I not have the innocent urge to check in on our little family?” She stared at you for a moment with her hand on her breast, but the facade was quickly dropped when you didn’t react. “Fine. Yes - I looked in on your future- someone has to!” She took a sip from her cup, ignoring your expression. 

“Mother, you cannot keep doing this.” She tutted while you spoke, an aggravating trait you’d been dealing with all your life. “You know I’ve never been as gifted as you with sight-” 

“Because it isn’t something that comes along with the rest of your power; it is a skill you must hone.” She reached over to take your hand in hers - genuine worry on her face. “There are so many things in this life that would snuff us out just because we are women. More things still because we are powerful women - I need you to take care of yourself. Big things are coming for you, and it will be difficult. Many hard decisions will have to be made, and only you can make them.”

“How very cryptic of you, mother.” The exhaustion was blurring the edges of your vision, but the look on her face gave away her genuine worry. “Fine.” You sighed through a tired smile. “You’re right - I will practice. Does this make you happy?” The crows cawed softly from their place as they groomed themselves. 

“Yes, it does.” She smiled, satisfied with the promise that you’d do everything you could to prepare yourself for what was to come.

The hearth was cold despite the almost visible chill in the air around the great hall, and he knew for a certainty that it would remain so - most likely through the winter. The Queen had been advised that the cold was good for the skin, that it kept her youthful and fair; would preserve her, which meant the wood would remain unburnt. He scolded himself silently for not dressing more warmly for his audience with her, trying for all the world to keep his teeth from chattering. 

The Queen spoke of a woman in the dark forest, a soothsayer some said, or a sorceress- a witch, and he could see what he’d have to do written in her face before she spoke the words.

“I want this creature brought to me.” Her tone was almost as icy as the windows lining the wall behind her throne. “Without delay and alive. Is that understood?” It wasn’t a request, it was a command, and he was well aware of why he’d been chosen for this task. He was her loyal huntsman, but it wasn’t just his loyalty that put him above all others who served her. He had heard the rumours and legends whispered about him by those who dwelled both in and outside the Royal palace. Tales were told of his brutal yet effective methods, and he could never say whether it filled him with shame or pride that most of them were true.

“At once, my Queen.” He bowed, his voice echoed through the barren hall and she nodded quickly, dismissing him wordlessly for which he was grateful - his quick stride out of the hall bringing him ever closer to the warmth of his quarters. 

The ache was almost unbearable, the strain of sitting still for such a long stretch of time always took a toll, but it was unavoidable; you’d made a promise. The smoke swirled around your still form, clinging onto your skin and settling into your hair and clothing - nearly thick enough to cut through. 

The birds were squawking from their perch, setting your teeth on edge.

Lucky I don’t roast the two of you.

The thoughts must have been louder than you’d intended because they quieted, allowing the long-awaited truths to be revealed, letting the smoke and stillness and incantations do their work. 

He came through then, a man atop a great big horse trampling through the dark forest. Strong and determined, and his intentions were almost too easy to read with the stink of the Queen around him like a phantom. 

A hunter, is it? Well. We’ll soon see about that.

It all swirled around in the ethos of your mind, an image of yourself captured - of the features of his handsome face furrowed with rage and then twisted up in carnal pleasure. 

The visions were disjointed and scrambled - visions of blood and mud and smoke, and when it became too convoluted, you pulled away, you finally rolled your neck with a pained gasp. Slowly but surely moving your tense muscles and rising from your place in front of the hearth.

The toll those kinds of rituals took on the body-on the mind meant at least a day of rest, and that meant all but collapsing onto your bed. 

He was astride a great black horse, armed with a great sword and a scowl, riding through the thicket and on his way to you. Even in the haze of the dream, you could smell the determination that clung to him- a bone-deep stubbornness that wouldn’t let him be satisfied until his task was complete. He would not rest until he found you, and you were going to let him. 

You woke with a gasp, darkness all around your sleeping quarters with the moonlight filtering through the window coverings. With a yawn and a stretch, you made your way over to it, the moon was waning, and the stars were bright where they hung in the heavens.

A whole day I have wasted in bed. I must prepare- he will be here soon.

The crows were asleep on their perch, and you let them rest while you set about doing what needed to be done before he arrived; you’d rested long enough. 

He set off before the sun showed its face over the horizon, his saddlebags bulging with supplies enough to sustain both him as well as his mount for the long ride to where she dwelled and back. 

He knew where to start his journey, knew he had to enter the darkest part of the forest - where the villagers outside the palace feared to tread. It was said that it was home to all manner of evil things, monsters, and creatures mothers warned their children about in order to get them to behave, and although he knew witches were real - it was hard to put credence in things no one had actually seen. 

It took the better part of the day to reach the border, the sun bright as he moved closer, now toe to toe with the treeline.

“Whoa.” The horse came to an abrupt stop just outside the wood, “It’s just trees.” He bent as best he could through his layers of wool and boiled leather - his hand rubbed at the horse's head to calm him. “Come now - let’s not waste the light.” he pulled on the reins lightly - guiding his mount into the trees. 

It was like stepping into the evening. One moment it was midday, the sun was still hanging in the sky and lighting his path, but once inside, under the cover of the trees, the light all but disappeared. He looked up to see the thick netting of branches and leaves blocking out the sky. Along with the darkness was an unearthly quiet, all of the normal sounds of the outdoors smothered within the press of greenery. All except the sound of crows.

He could feel how nervous and skittish his mount was underneath him, and he couldn’t blame him. There was a prickling on the back of his neck, an icy finger skating along his skin underneath his clothing as he made his way further and further into the forest.

There weren’t many things in this world that scared him, nothing left to be frightened of- in truth, it was him that inspired fear in others, had for many years now. The woods, however, they were a different entity altogether, and within them, he felt the inklings of something; something that tasted like terror the longer he traveled through it. 

He rode until it got too dark to see - he could not risk his horse stumbling over an errant root and injuring itself, and so he made camp as best he could, despite the prickling of fear on the back of his neck. The inky darkness swallowed him up, and within that darkness hid all manner of things, including the multitude of eyes he was convinced were watching him. 

Soon I will have her, and I can leave this godforsaken place.

The horse whinnied, startling him out of his thoughts, and he did his best to calm the animal before setting into the most restless sleep of his life. He yearned for the quiet comfort of his quarters as he lay on the hard-packed earth, trying his best to slip into sleep, but whenever he finally did- he dreamt of watchful eyes in the dark. 

The crows flew overhead, circling the space above until they grew tired and perched on the tree in front of you- watching as you collected cuttings from the garden. They squawked loudly as you moved from plant to plant - there wasn’t much time left now.

”I am well aware, thank you.”  You spoke quietly, but they heard you nonetheless, and a heavy silence fell over the little clearing near your home - you knew the hunter was close, but this was something else.

The smell of sulfur filled your nostrils, and it was enough to make your eyes water - your heavy sigh filled the air as you shook your head in annoyance. 

“What do you want?” You spoke without turning to look at the figure you knew was there. A low, amused laugh sounded, and you turned to keep an eye on him. 

“A little hostile today, aren’t we?” He was nonplussed, picking dust from the sleeve of his coat as he stood there, taking up your precious time. “No desire to be wooed today, darling?” His eyes were lively, and you didn’t have it in you to be diplomatic today. 

“No, and I am not your darling. When will you give this up?” You wiped your hands on the apron tied around your waist, gathering the bundles of herbs and flowers you’d collected. He laughed harder now; he always did love the chase.

“Not yet, but I think I might just be making a little dent in that granite wall you’ve put up.” The air around him shimmered, much like the air around the large bread ovens in the village. “Surely you must be a tad bit flattered that I wish you to be mine?” His head tilted, his eyes crinkled in a coquettish curiosity. 

“And surely you must get tired of being turned down. I don’t know if being stalked by the Devil would be the ultimate desire for any woman.” The crows squawked once more - yes, I know, but he won’t leave.

“Oh, come now, you may call me Morningstar or Lucifer; I'd even let you call me Lucy if you liked.” He stepped closer, towering over you, a trail of scorched earth in his wake. “Why do you deny me? I could make you a queen.” You raised your eyebrows at him, hating how pleasing his voice was. 

“Yes, you have such luck with queens, don’t you, Lucy.” You ignored the way his jaw clenched, ignored the way his eyes filled with flames. “She’s been on the throne an awful long time, hasn’t she? Looks like I’m not the only one avoiding you.” The whites of his eyes were gone now, replaced with obsidian glass. 

“Amira.” Her name was a curse in his mouth. “She has been-troublesome and has found ways to avoid giving me what I am due.” His fist was clenched at his side. “I will get her eventually- I always do-“ You cut him off.

”I don’t have time for this, I have said no, and I will continue to say no. In any case, I am destined for another, so if that is all, I would thank you to leave me be.” His perfect brow creased with annoyance. 

”We shall see about your destiny.” All the playfulness was gone. “We will speak again soon.” The ground opened then and swallowed him up, leaving a plume of smoke in his wake. 

I sincerely hope not.

He rolled his neck, trying for all the world to somehow stretch the knot in it; a pained groan escaping around a bite of his rationed, hard black bread. 

The horse was nervous, had been since they’d entered through the trees, and he did his best to calm him with soft words and whispers as they made their way towards the witch. He had a vague idea of where to go, the few people in the village he’d stopped to speak to at the start of his journey had told him that he’d only find her if she wanted to be found. That her home moved, that the trees were tricksters, and he had tried his hardest not to laugh in their faces. Instead, he asked them simpler questions. Whether there were any natural landmarks, any established trails, or roads, and they had answered the best they could - he did the best he could in turn with the information they provided. 

He thought about their wild eyes now as he came to a fork in the road he swore he hadn’t seen a moment ago. A deep furrow took root between his brows as he studied both paths - one had shafts of light, despite the heavy press of trees all around them. It had a relatively level dirt path that his horse would have no trouble navigating through. 

The other path was the complete opposite, it was the one you'd hear about in a folk tale that seemed to ooze danger, pitch black with the forest floor covered in gnarled, twisted roots. An accident waiting to happen, surely. The choice was obvious, yet the hairs on his neck raised nonetheless. 

He ignored the prickle of unease, ignored the feeling in his gut that there was something inherently wrong about this place, and continued on his journey. 

————————————-

He was faster than you thought, faster than he should have been, and he caught you unawares. Caught you digging at the little patch of dirt just outside your home, searching for the protection stone your mother had given you years and years before, managing to slip it into one of the many hidden pockets sewn into your skirts before a twig snapped just behind you.  

A black hood over your head was all you saw before the world went dark.

-

The world was nothing but a blurry darkness at first, blood pounded in your eyes and in the back of your head, a horrid pulsing in your temples with every beat of your heart. New aches and pains reared their ugly heads with each full inhale-in your shoulders, your arms, and back-the realization hitting as the mind fully woke, tied up like a foal.

Crafty little bastard.

“Will you behave?” His voice cut through the quiet of the wood, the tiniest of smiles at his tone came and was quickly wiped away. 

He can see me moving - very perceptive.

“Answer me.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth. 

“I should ask you the same thing, you attacked me, I seem to recall.” He didn’t laugh, he didn’t make much noise at all. You sighed. “Yes, yes, I suppose I’ll behave. Whatever that means.”

Instant relief engulfs you when he unties your hands from behind you, and finally, you can rise from the awkward position you’d been in, can rub life and sensation back into your wrists. It only lasts a moment before he’s pulling your hands toward him and tying them in front of you. 

“Is this how you would treat a lady?” You stare at him while he makes quick work of the knots- nothing you could easily slip out of- or so he thinks. His face is pleasant enough; soft brown hair frames his ruggedly handsome features- softer than his temperament in any case. His eyes are sharp, and so is his nose, but it suits him, gives him character- he doesn’t answer. “You’ve no words for me then?” 

He huffs loudly, and you can almost hear the grinding of his teeth, moving away without an answer to drink from his leather flask. 

“So, not only are you a snatcher, you’re a rude one at that.” You straighten out your skirts as best you can from your place on the ground, decidedly ignoring the way his head snaps in your direction.

“I am not a snatcher.” He catches himself, nostrils flared with irritation at being goaded into speaking. “I am a huntsman, and you are what I needed to catch. That is all the answer I have and all you will get. I warn you now- behave, and I won’t tie you up and strap you to the back of my horse like a sack of grain.” His eyebrow raises with the threat, and you almost laugh.

You bow your head in mock reverence, appeasing him. For now.

She was shockingly calm, a brave little thing if he was honest with himself and if he thought about it in too much depth - he knew he’d caught her almost too easily.  

She’d been so unlike what he’d expected, lying there in the patch of grass outside the strangest structure he’d ever seen - a dark wooden structure in the shape of a triangle that looked wholly out of place; so much so that it didn’t seem to match her.

The possibility of her being so plain - so ordinary hadn’t crossed his mind- but these words didn’t describe her well enough. In truth she wasn’t plain at all - she was pretty, her skin soft, and she looked young - younger than he’d been imagining. It worried him to think that if he’d seen her in passing, he wouldn’t have thought of her as anything other than a pretty maiden.

This had not been what he’d expected.

And what did you expect? An evil, wrinkled crone? It is a glamour, some spell she has woven to deceive you.

It must have been, he had gotten the first taste of the spell she must be weaving when he threw her over his shoulder; she smelled like home - the home of his youth. She smelled like the first blooms of spring and fresh rain, like warm sugar. He ignored it all and focused on the task at hand.

You walked for hours through winding paths, made to trail behind him and his mount.

He was silent as he led you through the forest, hands tied with a rope he held in his fist, the only exception was the occasional snort of annoyance as he led you to what he thought was the right direction. Any attempts at conversation were ignored, your words falling on deaf ears as you walked and walked and walked more still. 

Ivo and Magna were following diligently as they always did, watching from the trees as he led you in circles. It was well past evening when you stopped in the middle of the trail. He turned with a frown and tried to pull you along, but you held fast. 

“I need to stop; I am not a mule.” You moved towards the bushes beside you to pick the wild blackberries that grew, but he pulled at your hands before you could reach them. “Stop that - I am hungry, and unless you’ve brought food for me, I need something, or I will faint.” You made to pick the berries, but once again, he stopped you. 

“How do I know you don’t mean to poison yourself to avoid your captivity?” He was at your side, towering over you within a moment - surveying the fruit. You couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up.

The only reason you caught me, is because I let you. 

“That would be a little dramatic, I think- they are blackberries, Hunter.” You kept your true thoughts to yourself, for now. “Just blackberries.” You pulled at the binds slowly, picking a berry to show him. His eyes were narrowed, but he took it and smelled it cautiously before giving it back. 

“Very well. Eat your fill, and then we continue on while we still have light.” He went to his horse and left you to it. You took your time though, relishing the sweetness before finally moving forward towards your captor and continuing your journey.

He watched the trees, his face the picture of suspicion as the light faded, as the gloom of night fell heavier and heavier by the moment.

“Captivity, is it? That’s why you’ve stolen me from my home?” You spoke to his shoulder, but he didn’t answer. “Is there a reason why I’m to be held captive? Who has sent you after me, Hunter?” He sighed, taking note of the darkness that was swallowing you up, and you knew that there was no safe way to lead the horse any further. 

“We will camp here for now.” He pulled off the dirt road and into a tiny clearing, holding tightly onto what was essentially your leash while he fed and watered the horse. “You-“ he turned to you now, “You will sit still unless you want to be tied up to the tree.” His eyes narrowed, his expression a warning, and you said nothing- he took it as acceptance.

“Will you tell me why you’ve captured me?” You sat on the cold hard ground while he set about lighting a fire, pointedly ignoring your question once more. “Is our entire journey to be this way? Me asking questions you will not answer?”

“Feel free to stop asking.” He found a few good-sized pieces of wood and piled them together before producing a large knife as well as some flint. When he had the fire strong enough to burn without his help he turned to you once more. “You’re in for a cold, hard night, Witch.” The word was a curse in his mouth. “I suggest you prepare however you need to but keep it quiet. I will answer no more of your questions.” His eyes were twin flames, both the fire and mistrust burning in them before he turned away to grab his bedroll as well as some other things secured to his saddle.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” He scoffed at your words but didn’t engage, instead he kept his eyes averted. He ate what looked to be cured meat and hard bread - “Am I to survive on air and your scowls then?” He took a deep breath before breaking off a piece of his loaf and tossing it into your lap.

It was exceptionally hard to chew, nothing like the steaming crusty loaves you made for yourself and when he finished you were still gnawing on it.

“I am going to sleep but before I do I am going to tie this-“ he held up the rope connected to your bindings. “To my arm. I am a light sleeper; I warn you now not to make me come looking for you.” His coal black eyes bored into yours for a moment before he followed through- fastening the rope to his arm, laying on the bedroll and closing his eyes. 

Ivo and Magna fluttered down onto your legs once his breathing evened out. Both of them nipping at your bindings before you stopped them. 

“It’s okay little loves, I must endure for now.” You whispered softly, “be a couple of dears and bring me what I packed. I think I left it on the table- the window should be open.” They clicked happily before taking off, their shining black feathers lost in the darkness. 

They returned shortly after with the bundles you’d prepared. Dried fruit and dried meats, hazelnuts from the thicket behind your house. Enough to keep you from starving, not enough that he’d notice when you hid them cleverly in your skirts once you’d had your fill. 

The ground grew softer when you finally lay your head down to sleep, a bed of soft springy moss grew underneath you and it helped to both make the ground much more comfortable as well as keep the chill out of your bones and with your own cloak tucked around you tightly, you fell asleep.

He woke with the dawn, both the light as well as the rocks that seemed to spring out of the ground as he tried to sleep kept him awake - making his night a torture. 

He stood up with a pained stretch and was greeted with a vision that both shocked and angered him. The witch was asleep on what looked like a bed of soft grass, thicker than the rich carpets the Queen had in her chambers. He approached quietly to take a closer look, eyebrows raised into his hairline when he saw the flowers that had bloomed in her hair as she slept, making her look like something out of a fairytale. A cruel little part of him wanted to wake her; wanted to interrupt her rest so she’d be just as annoyed as he. 

He ignored the urge and instead used the peaceful moment to relieve his bladder and pack up his bedroll. His mood darkened further still when he heard her stir, rolling his eyes at the contented sigh she let out. 

He could already hear her speaking to him, asking him more and more questions; he took a deep breath and rolled his neck once more before facing her to start his journey anew.

-

Tag list: @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @charnelhouse @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @anaaaispunk @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @mandosmistress @deadhumourist @felicisimor @tuskens-mando @no-droids-on-sunday @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @maievdenoir @kissasith @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @lorosette @softsweetedbeauty @c4psicle @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @ameliaofasgard @squidwell @allthatsleftbehind @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @planetariumx @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @swtaura @evelynseventyr @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl

[kickingcorners]

fairytale friday + mindful life

[hippolotamus]

Hi!!!! As I'm sure you predicted, I'm here to beg for any cat! Buck you might want to share? ✨💫💕😍

Hi!!!!! You get some bonus words… just because 😊 Have some cat!Buck. (I’m sorry it’s not the most exciting bit)

Eddie is dating now. At least he’s pretty sure that’s what it is.

Bobby told him he needs to move on. That one day he won’t wake up and immediately think of his dead wife. So. He made a phone call, met Ana for breakfast, and it went well. They even made plans to meet up again.

She’s attractive, funny, obviously well educated, and Christopher already likes her. It feels like a good thing. It is a good thing. That’s what he focuses on until his phone chimes in his pocket. The ridiculous [text tone] Buck set so Eddie would always know it’s him.

When he checks the message, there’s a picture of an open takeout box. Finally getting to eat this. If you can believe it, someone started choking at the restaurant and we never did get to have breakfast together. Probably good you already had plans.

Eddie rolls his eyes even though no one is around to see him. Even after the insanity of the last shift, no one’s going to convince him jinxes are a real thing. There’s plenty of legitimate magick — and logic — to explain what happened. No need to defend the notion that one word being spoken equates to an automatic day from hell. He honestly doesn’t understand how any of them believe it when they all have gifts of some sort.