#my ideas are too much for my own self

[aestheticpearl]

what do you mean i can’t rush my writing and i have to take my time with it?

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Reflection: A Retelling of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves”

The mirror is a gift from the dwarves. Its frame of hammered gold is wrought with delicately-crafted birds and beasts, fruit and flowers. Its silver-backed surface, unlike those created by human craftsman, shows a true reflection.

The queen loves to gaze at herself in the mirror. It tells her that she is beautiful—skin like milk, hair like midnight, eyes as blue as a crystalline lake. She is young, healthy, graceful, charming—perfection in human form. Truly a queen worthy of this kingdom.

Then, one day, the mirror’s message changes. It shows that the queen has lines around her eyes, sunspots on her nose, wicked glints of silver in her night-black hair. The queen does all she can to hide the damage, spends hours before the mirror with cosmetics and concealers. To the rest of the world, the queen is as perfect as ever.

Yet every morning, the mirror tells the truth.

Worst of all, her husband has a little daughter—barely fourteen years old—who grows lovelier by the day. Every morning, the mirror says that before long, those who worshiped the queen’s beauty will transfer their devotion to the princess—and will be right to do so.

The queen's beauty would not seem so tarnished if the princess were not there for comparison. The queen tries to send the princess to an isolated estate—tells her husband it is better for the girl to grow up away from the corrupting influences of the court. But the girl is too dear to her father. She wastes away with homesickness, until her father the king orders her to come home for the sake of her health.

The queen tries neglecting the girl in ways the king won't notice—refusing to let her wash with good soap, denying her a maid, forbidding her fashionable clothes and hairstyles. Through it all, the mirror tells her that the girl’s beauty shines out brighter than ever.

Before long, the queen spends hours by the mirror each day, locked in a futile endeavor to restore what is lost forever. One moonlit night, she finds a dagger, and considers plunging it into her heart just to end this ceaseless torment, but the morning shows her a better path.

She will never be perfect, nor make the princess less so—but she can destroy perfection.

It would be easy to take this dagger to where the princess sleeps and shove it through her perfect heart, but the queen doesn't dare to mar her own beauty with blood-stained hands.

She gives the dagger to a loyal huntsman. He takes the girl into the forest—and returns holding a small, bloody heart.

That night before the mirror, the queen's smile makes her glow with a new kind of beauty.

*

People often tell the princess she is beautiful. She believes them, for she has never seen an ugly face. Old Sal’s missing tooth is an open door into her smile. The chambermaid’s freckles make a daytime constellation. The little stable boy’s one good eye glitters green as an emerald. Her stepmother owns a beautiful mirror, but the princess barely gazes at it. Why would she waste time examining her own familiar face in a world with so many other lovely faces to gaze upon?

One day in early spring, she asks to go berrying in the forest beyond the castle, as she once did with her mother. To her surprise, the queen permits it—the queen rarely allows the princess anything that might be a luxury. She even sends one of her huntsmen as protection.

In the eaves of the forest, the princess finds strawberries not far from the path, and she hastens to gather as many as she can. She invites the huntsman to join her, but he stands statue-like at the edge of the clearing, always on guard. Not wanting him to go without, the princess brings the berries to him, and offers him the largest, sweetest one.

As she does, she gazes at his face. Scars make mountain ranges along his cheeks and brow. His hair is edged with silver. The lines of his face are solid as stone. His deep gray eyes hold storm clouds.

“Oh, my,” the princess says in awe. “You are beautiful.”

The huntsman’s face disappears as he hides it in one of his hands. “I can’t,” he says, his voice rough with unshed tears. “I must betray my queen."

His other hands darts to the side, quick as a serpent, and the silver flash of a blade disappears into the undergrowth.

The huntsmen places both of his hands on the princess’ shoulders and crouches to look into her face. “You must run. The queen wants you dead. If you stay at the palace, she will find a way to kill you. You must flee into the forest and never return.”

“The forest?” the princess asks in terror. She has often wandered in the eaves, but she has never dared the strange terrors that are said to lurk in its interior.

“There is nothing there that can harm such innocence,” the huntsman says. “You will find shelter.” He turns her around and pushes her toward the depths of the forest. “Now run! As fast and as far as you can!”

The shadows of the forest embrace her, and the flowers make a path at her feet. She crosses shallow rivers, climbs rocky slopes, winds through twisted groves of trees. She couldn’t return home even if she wanted to.

She had not been blind. She had seen something like ugliness in the queen’s face whenever they were alone. But hatred? Murder?

She nearly collapses with grief, but through the trees, she sees a wisp of smoke. A chimney. A roof over a tumbledown cottage. The princess runs through the open door, collapses on the floor, and is glad to find a safe place to weep.

Her father will think her dead, and she will not be there to comfort him. She will never again see any of the beautiful faces that fill the palace. The hundreds of hidden details that made the castle home are forever out of her reach. The huntsman saved her, but to what end? A lifetime of loneliness and misery? Is this truly a better fate than the quick death of a dagger through the heart?

She opens her eyes. She has looked too long at the sorrows in her heart. She must find solace from without.

She gazes upon the cottage.

And sees seven beautiful faces.

*

The dwarves love their princess. She is beautiful, not only because of her face, but because of the way her soul shines out through it. She is endlessly beautiful because she sees the beauty in everyone and everything.

There never was a girl so selfless. Her every waking moment is spent filling their days with a million small comforts. The cottage has never been so clean. The food has never been so lovingly prepared. There is nothing she would not do for them, and in return, they devote their lives to her service.

She needs their protection. One so naturally kind and innocent can’t recognize when strangers might have ill intent. One day, after being out in the woods, the seven dwarves return to the cottage to find the princess nearly strangled by a set of stays. When they revive her, she tells them of a ragged old woman (with such beautiful hands!) who asked for food and water and then repaid her generosity by giving a nearly-fatal gift. The eldest of the dwarves caught a glimpse of the stranger’s retreat, and saw enough of her form to suspect the queen.

The dwarves keep a closer guard on the princess, but six months later, a few minutes go by when all seven of them are away from home. They return to find the princess nearly killed by a poisoned comb in her hair. The story she tells is similar to the last one—an old woman in need of help repaid their kind princess with a gift meant to kill.

After that, the princess is never alone. The dwarf on guard duty always has the envied task, so lovely is it to be in her presence. A year, then two, go by with no signs of danger.

Then one winter morning, after a night of birthday feasting, all seven of the dwarves sleep late. The princess rises at her usual time, hoping to fix them a holiday breakfast. By the time the dwarves stumble out of bed, they find the princess sprawled across the kitchen floor—cold, pale and lifeless, with a poisoned apple in her hand.

They despise themselves for having failed her, but their love for the princess drives them to serve her the only way they can—by laying her body to rest. The cold, hard earth won’t take her, and they can’t bear to hide her away in the realm of death. Knowing that decay will not touch one so innocent, they place her in a coffin of glass and lay her in their garden, where her beauty can brighten the world in death as it did in life.

They keep a constant vigil, lost in loving grief. They ought to have known she would end this way. This is the fate of all innocence in this dark and sinful world—to be destroyed by wickedness. Even as they see this truth, they know that it is wrong. The world should not be this way, but what can they do? They wish and pray for better, but they can’t hope. How can innocence ever overcome such evil?

In the spring, when the last snow melts and the first snowbells bloom, the dwarves see movement in the woods beyond their cottage. A prince approaches on a snow-white horse. He is ruler of this forest and its mysterious ways—a king of kings, even more beautiful than their princess. His face shines with a wisdom that does nothing to defile the innocence of his heart.

He leaps from his horse, approaches the coffin, raises the lid, and takes the cold hand of the princess between his.

“Beloved,” he says, “arise.”

In his words and actions, the dwarves find the answer to the riddle they have pondered in their long vigil of grief. In a world of wickedness, the salvation of Innocence is Love.

The princess opens her eyes. Takes a breath. Sits up and gazes upon the world she loves, upon the one who loved her back to life. Something of the prince’s wisdom is reflected in her, so that her beauty is almost painful to behold.

The dwarves rejoice, and the princess rejoices with them. She kisses each one atop the head, but does not release the hand of her prince.

Eager to serve one who served them so well, the dwarves cook her breakfast, and she eats with even more enthusiasm than she showed in her former life. Yet when the meal ends, she stands with her prince at the threshold of the cottage.

“I must return to my father,” the princess says.

The dwarves protest. What of the queen? What of the danger?

The princess looks at her prince with eyes full of love. “I have nothing to fear.”

*

The king rejoices at his daughter’s return—he has thought her dead for so many years. Grief has aged and weakened him, but there is beauty in his face that grows brighter with every minute he spends in the presence of the princess.

The princess tells him of her troubles since she went away, and the king is horrified by her words. “I knew my wife had lost her reason,” he says, “but not her heart! She must pay for her crimes!”

He moves toward the door as though he will administer justice this moment.

The prince stops him with a gentle hand upon his chest. “There is no need.”

*

The queen gazes at herself in the mirror. She never looks anywhere else. If there is a world beyond the edges of its frame, she has forgotten it. She sees only her own face, searches for the remaining scraps of beauty, tries desperately to erase the blemishes that grow ever more hateful with the passing of years.

Another face appears in the reflection—a face the queen thought she had destroyed long ago. It is lovelier than ever. The queen hides her face in her hands so she can not see the painful beauty of the princess.

“Come away from there,” the princess says. “Gaze with me upon the other beauties of the world.”

“And lose myself?” the queen shrieks. “That is what you have always wanted—to destroy my very self! To take all the honor and beauty that should be mine!”

“I wish to save you,” the princess says. “Come away.”

“Never!” the queen screams, clutching the mirror in two white-knuckled hands. “I have everything I need right here! You can’t take it from me!”

The princess touches the queen’s shoulder. The queen screams and shrinks away, hiding her face once more in her hands.

A man’s voice—painful in its beauty—says, “Beloved, she has made her choice.”

At long last, they leave. The queen looks in the mirror and sees no face but her own. No greater beauty remains nearby to shame her.

In the confines of her world’s silver surface, she is fairest of all.

*

The queen is locked away in the prison of her choosing.

The king stays to do what good he can for his kingdom, and the princess promises to return for him after he has fulfilled his purpose.

The prince places the princess on his snow-white horse, and they travel once more past the cottage of the dwarves, who are glad to see her so beautiful and beloved.

At last, the prince brings the princess to his kingdom at the heart of the forest.

The beauty she finds there is beyond words.

[jichanxo]

subjugate your shame (uncropped under the cut)

i like yasu's face too much here to not post it uncropped....

[nemo-in-wonderland]

I can promise you one thing: no matter the AU, Dottie will always serve cunt.

ALWAYS.

And as a Lannister of Lannisport? even more so.

[myreia]

✦ D I S C I P L E O F T H E H A N D

Alchemy for potions. Blacksmithing for repairs. Leatherworking and weaving for mending. She is not an artisan, but the basic skills she has picked up over the years have served her well. Self-sufficiency has always been at the forefront of her mind, and she is pleased that she can keep herself afloat when needed. Besides, crafting is relaxing. A hobby or two here and there is good for her mind. —level 90 compendium

[kyouka-supremacy]

I fucked up

[lemongogo]

more

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[lieutenantselnia]

Imagine crawling under the Horned King's robe to cuddle with him ... It doesn't necessarily have to be a sexual situation (though it could possibly lead to that if you're both up to it - I mean does he even wear anything else underneath there?👀), but could also simply be a tender moment of both physical and emotional closeness.

Author's note: This was originally supposed to be an imagine at best or simply just me yelling out my thoughts about the Horned King, but somehow it kind of accidentally turned into a short story. Things you do at 5am I guess. This man probably has to much control over my mind at this point (not that I'm complaining).

The Horned King x Reader - Cuddling under his robe

It's cold this evening, though this is not something particularly unusual. The wind is howling around the walls of the castle, and you're snuggling a little closer to the Horned King as you're resting in your shared bed together. You feel his grip around your waist tighten ever so slightly, when suddenly an idea sparks up in your mind. Maybe there is an even better way to escape the cold than just pressing yourself up against him ...

He tilts his head, but doesn't say anything yet when you wriggle yourself out of his embrace and crawl towards the foot of the bed. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide to lift the hem of his robe.

"What are you doing, my dear?"

You can hear mild confusion in his voice, and stop in your motion for a moment, one of your hands pulling up the fabric a little while the other is resting on his calf.

"Just trying to escape the cold ..."

With that, you lean forwards and start crawling under the king's robe. The thick fabric holds off any light, so you let your hands follow the contours of his body as you move upwards, careful not to put your weight onto him in an uncomfortable way. You can feel a smile forming on your face as you finally stick your head through the collar - which luckily is wide enough to fit both of you.

"I thought it might be warmer underneath here, and I have to say that I'm not disappointed. But I also just wanted to be close to you ..."

The Horned King's gaze turns soft - over time you've learned to read his more subtle facial expressions - , and when you lean forwards a little to press a kiss onto his lipless mouth, you can feel him eagerly reciprocate the motion, to the best of his abilities at least. He lets out a content sigh as you rub your nose against his cheek and wraps his arms around you, resting his hands on your back. You allow your body to relax completely as you lay down on top of his own, and although he's not giving off any body warmth, you relish the feeling of being pressed up against his bare skin.

"This is perfect ..."

You mumble as you're nuzzling your face into his neck. Your eyelids are starting to get heavier as he gently rubs your back, and a yawn escapes you.

"Rest now, my dear."

Your king's soothing voice still reaches you as your consciousness starts to drift off into the shadows.

"Rest well. I will not be going anywhere right now ..."

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[macabre-discotheque]

drawing that grabpack was the bane of my goddamn existence i will be doing it again ANYWAYS have my ppt self insert holding poppy while she uh talks to them about something idk you can decide lmao

[flossingh]

I am very lucky that the personality and temperament I had in mind for Rook as a starting point just so happened to align with what Bioware had in mind and thus I enjoyed spending time with her (even if I did try to steer in to the hubris and regret and making mistakes thing with... rather little payoff), but.

Perhaps it was a unique mistake to choose the Veil Jumpers for my faction, because Bellara is the most competent of all the Veil Jumpers and Rook knows basically nothing, but.

Like, why is Rook there? Rook isn't someone Solas doesn't know; he says he's been keeping an eye on her the entire time she was with Varric and Harding (let's never mind about how for the minute). She has no unique skill like the Inquisitor. The story isn't about her in an irreplaceable way the way it is for Hawke. The Warden, the most blank slate of them all, is a better and more determined leader, no matter what other personality traits you give them, who has to struggle and fight for every victory. Rook isn't even an expert in her own field, because whatever companion shares your faction is.

So what exactly is Rook bringing to the table, here? What can she offer to this story? Why does it need to be hers?

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[brown-little-robin]

okay so @quirkle2 sent me an ask about the aftermath of the Teru vs. Mob fight, and I went and wrote out the whole fight in the ask. I'm moving it to this post so that I can answer the Actual Question in the Actual Ask like a normal person. anyway here you go

Teru's Series of Really Bad Decisions

or, How Mob Came Out Of the Teru vs. Mob Fight Completely Unscathed

So here's the thing. Mob's zombie disease colony is pretty invested in keeping its host alive, so even while the fight is happening, he's healing really fast. And despite his top-dog persona, Teru doesn't actually enjoy injuring people. (The sensation of touching another person bothers him—that's why most of his attacks are things like slaps or punches, where he's only in contact with people for a moment before the force of the blow shoves them away. He'll kill or torture people, but he subtly avoids extended contact with them while doing so. It makes him nervous to resort to hands-on violence, because that's how a zombie fights and for his own survival, Teru HAS to act like he's above zombie behavior.)

So it takes Teru a while to work himself up to the point of actually committing to injuring Mob. At first, Teru is just punching him in the chest and stomach, shoving him (he pushes him into the school swimming pool at one point and then has to pull him back out because Mob never learned to swim and is drowning. major L for Teru's pride), taunting him, using blunt force and watching in disbelief while the other boy just takes it and breathes through the pain. He expected Mob to hit back right away, and then Teru would use a bit more strength and intimidate his opponent so much that he'd admit Teru's strength is way beyond him and then they'd be on amicable terms. But that doesn't happen.

Also, Dimple isn't back yet in this AU, so the fight takes place mostly in silence, which weirds Teru out. He's used to fighting with people yelling and screaming around him, and hearing nothing but pained noises and a few confused questions out of his opponent really bothers Teru. He grabs Mob and shakes him, asking why won't you fight back??. He's definitely like Teru! he's got the misty eyes and he's breathing out miasma and he has the healing ability to jerk his arms free of the ropes he was tied with and have the raw rope-scrapes on his arms heal over a minute later, but he won't! fight! back!!

Meanwhile, as Teru is shaking him by the shirt-collars, Mob is having flashbacks to his life wandering as a zombie before the cure. He's remembering Dimple clearer than he ever has before, and he's embracing those memories for once, clinging to his guilt over (he suspects) killing his friend. And, remembering how nice Dimple was to him and Ritsu, how Dimple shared strawberries with them, how he would coax Mob out of the rain, how Dimple reached for Mob's face while Mob's teeth were closing in his arm—he stares at Teru with all the loathing he feels toward himself, for killing Dimple.

Teru says, "What's with that look?"

Mob says, "I was just wondering, why do you feel the need to hurt people who are just trying to live? Do you think you have to, because you're a zombie?"

And Teru, who tries not to think of himself as a zombie, goes, "What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking—there was someone I knew who was a pretty good guy—compared to you. And I hurt him."

That makes Teru drop Mob like a hot potato. He doesn't want to fight like a zombie but he has to get this hypocrite who hurt his own friend and refuses to fight him to DO something—and they happen to be in the home ec room, right by the gas-powered generator for the home ec equipment, so Teru causes a gas explosion on purpose and blocks the door with his body, trying to force Mob to fight his way out to avoid burning alive. That's how Teru ends up losing his perfect hair—he may be special but he's still got zombie disease, his pain receptors don't work right and Mob is coughing too hard in the smoke to warn Teru that the fire ran along the ceiling and got to Teru's hair. The fire is how Mob's clothes get singed. He's not seriously burned, at least not by the time Teru sees him next (Teru rushed to the swimming pool when he realized his hair was on fire), but he's shaken and coughing and smells like smoke.

They both stumble out of the burning school building. Mob has his Moment Of Realization and correctly guesses that Teru's life is completely empty; Teru's acting like this because he's trying to ignore that he's a zombie and has no real friends because everyone is scared of him, and Teru isn't making any effort to live like a person instead of a monster.

That's when Teru just straight-up strangles Mob, throwing away his determination not to fight like a zombie. Mob has already ruined Teru's untouchable appearance and likely condemned Teru to being shot by his own people for causing all this property damage. Teru's life as a human is over already, he thinks. Mob refuses to fight back, passes out, ???% appears, you know how it goes.

And get this: Mob's zombie disease colony has expended a lot of its energy already (consuming its own drones for sheer power) to heal Mob from the blows and the burns, so when ???% puts his body into high gear, the colony registers EMERGENCY CONDITIONS and starts replenishing its energy using anything available—the colony deploys its own disease drones into the entire surrounding area and consumes all of the miasma in the air and water and, STILL not having enough energy for this, dives into Teru's body and eats 90% of Teru's colony. This is the equivalent of ???% absorbing all of the energy in the atmosphere AND Teru's psychic powers, which always makes me hold my breath in canon.

Teru can see this happening, by the way. Like Mob, he can sense the presence of zombie disease in all forms. He senses Kageyama's disease colony suddenly exploding from his body and eating all of the colonies in the area. what a sight to behold.

Anyway, so, yeah, Mob then wakes up with his body fully healed, in front of a burning school building, sensing absolute emptiness all around him.

He can't fix the school building. Not in this au. All he can do is kneel down and cry. He failed to change. He thought he was better now, he thought that he was in control of himself now, but he did it again—he hurt someone on accident again.

And then Teru stumbles over to him with his hip still spasming from where ???% threw him by his leg and goes, "Kageyama, you were right... without our power, we have nothing..."

and Mob looks up to see people stirring around them, and Teru is alive, he didn't kill Teru, he didn't kill anyone, and he goes back to Salt with the Body Improvement Club in a kind of shell-shocked daze.

[unopenablebox]

there are all sort of self-deprecating people with high standards for their niche activities i encounter on tumblr but the ones who really warn me off learning about their hobby the most are serious Dog People involved in the Dog World (constantly in some kind of hideous agony about their dog's tail being slightly too high in a way no casual observer would find possible to perceive). this is surmounted only by Dog People who also have a hobby of Semi-Serious Photography that they seem to have started while trying to get good at photographing the dog. those people can be miserable about the quality of the photograph and the quality of the dog simultaneously while still never making a single complaint over years that im even remotely capable of comprehending

areas where it seems actively self-defeating for your ability to enjoy the activity if you learn too much information about it