#red like roses white like snow

[did-i-do-this-write]

Fairytale-like title, I cannot resist, tell me about Red Like Roses, White Like Snow!

Huh, guess I never thought of the title that way, but it is very fairy-tale-esque isn't it? Quite fitting, actually 😆

I'm sure this doesn't come as a surprise anymore, but this is, in fact, just another RWBY fanfiction. I haven't worked on it in a really long time, but it was actually originally a gift for my sister.

It's the second in a series we created where we made all of our favorite ships canon and let all our favorite characters happy endings 😅 we were just trying to cope during the height of the lockdown, really. I think I've said all this before, but I'm not really sure there's much else to say. It's been really fun to write and I want to finish it mainly just because I'm a completionist, but idk if it'll ever get done for real haha.

Maybe if someone else asks about it again I'll talk more about the plot/idea/what it was like to work on it with my brother 🙃

This ask motivated me to write 104 words.

Experiment Total: 3,983

#plot twist: my sibling is bigender :) #that was not a mistake. i was talking about the same person #just to clarify lol #she prefers when we mix it up #ask and you shall receive #tc doherty #zac speaks #writing #writeblr #my wips #red like roses white like snow #the great motivation experiment

[protectcosette]

kinda fucked up how disney monopolized the fairy tales industry

#there shouldn't be like. one version that everyone knows. there should be like 10 #and nobody knows the fun stuff like snow white and rose red anymore #certified protectcosette original

[characterswithcolorsnamesfight]

Prelim Poll 16

Propaganda here

#tournament polls #colornames battle #prelims #prelim 16 #visual novel #gameblr #justice league x rwby #jessica cruz #green lantern #redwall books #redwall series #redwall #animation #bookblr #the graveyard book #graveyard book #sash lilac #freedom planet #snow white and rose red #fairy tales #like a dragon gaiden #like a dragon #white no face #bai wuxiang #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #a3! act addict actors #a3! #a3! game

[ibrithir-was-here]

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

Sunlight and Snowdrops

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was in summer that her sorrows came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Draining Sickness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If she has not so already.

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

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

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

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

#my writing #snow white #snow white retelling #got inspired by a few different short stories #Tanith Lee's Red as Blood #Neil Gaiman's Snow Glass Apples #and Theodora Goss' England Under the White Witch #plus just my own love of faitytales and finding ways to mash them together #also wanted to do a dark Snow White story where she doesn't just start out as an evil vampiry child #but becomes corrupted by her fear and trauma #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white and rose red #little red riding hood #hansel and gretel #(the usurper is meant to be gretel as in some varients she grows up to marry a king #and who better to kill a witch?) #honestly would love to come back and explore some of the other characters in this story like her and red riding hood) #the snow queen #(really i think i just wanted to tie all the snow white/snow stories together x) #short stories #short story #walter crane #for the banner art #dwarves #witches #vampires #kinda with the witch queen

[monggay]

mechtober day 1: once upon a time (in space)! its. late lol

#the mechanisms #the mechanisms fanart #once upon a time (in space) #mechtober #mechtober 2022 #rose red #snow white #maeart #hgrgk im. gay #was just gonna say tired but now im gonna tell u abt my day i did that thing with the. like stick food in your mouth and they bite it. yea #i REALLY wanna learn mechs songs. like. it makes me so mad everyday that i dont do it #ok im. goin to bed

[madeleinelovescolours]

#I really like the small child and big monster duo #big daddy and little sister or Elizabeth and songbird #it hits so hard #it hits every time #art #concept art #oc character #character art #character design #snow white #snow white and rose red #bear character

[princess-ibri]

If you are doing parent backstories may I request Snow White's parents

I actually had this ready to go so good call Anon xD

*as always click for better quality

So my idea for Snow White's parents is that her mother is actually Rose Red of the "Snow White and Rose Red" fairytale.

She and her sister live with their aging mother in a cottage at the edge of the Kingdom, just inside the Enchanted Forest. And one winter's day when the girls are about 12 a talking bear, just a bit older then a cub, comes and seeks shelter with them.

This repeats for several years, and the three become friends, though the bear never reveals to them how he came to be able to talk.

The girls also have several run ins with a strange dwarf who has been seemingly cast out of the Dwarf community and is wandering the woodlands alone. Eachtime they try to help him out a scrape he's gotten into he curses and grumbles about people minding their own buisness, and seems to be hiding a rather large stash of jewels somewhere, if the bits of diamonds and pearls and coins he drops are any indication.

When the girls are both 18, Rose Red meets a young man traveling through the woods, searching for any clues to the fate of his elder brother that was lost years ago. He and Rose Red begin to bond as she tries to help him and it is revealed that the young man is infact the newly crowned King Leopold of the Kingdom of Andalasia, and of course at one point the girls and the prince run into the dwarf and the bear.

Eventually it all comes out that the Bear is actually the long lost brother of Leopold, Prince Orson, who wandered into the woods as a child on his first royal hunting trip and was unlucky enough to stumble upon the Dwarf's stache of treasure, stolen from the halls of the Dwarf King who lives in the tallest of the Seven Mountains.

Amoung these treasures was magic ring that the dwarf used to curse the meddling prince into the form of a bear, and the prince had been chasing after the dwarf ever since to force him to reverse the spell.

All is put right, Orson's curse is broken and he and Leopold marry Snow White and Rose Red, with Orson letting his brother keep the crown and throne as he hasn't really had any statescraft training since he was 13 years old.

(Unfortunately I think Orson and og Snow White end up passing away, perhaps from an illness. And this loss is part of what prompts Queen Rose Red to name her daughter after her beloved sister)

#asks #Disney Parent Backstory #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #snow white and rose red #my art #disney #fairy tales #disney illustration #DisneyVerse #andalasia #enchanted #brave #since it's mor'du 's ring #the dwarf's name is probably like Grabby or something xD

[capricorndevil15]

My actual favorite fairytales are ones having to do with curses, getting turned into a beast, or accidentally/willingly/any-reason-ly marrying a beast or demon or monster. Prince Lindworm is one of my most favorite-est favorites. I had a pet corn snake at one point who I called Prince Lindworm (his real name was Slinky though). Other faves off the top of my head are East of The Sun, West of The Moon, The Demon in The Tree, and Featherflight.

#I also like deal with the devil/the devil and X stories a lot! #and any tale involving any type of curse or hex or geass #and I know it's silly but I do sort-of covet lesser-known fairytales and details from specific tellings. #also jsyk I don't care What the tale actually says in my mindpalace Featherflight is a giant just like her dad. #this same interest causes me to like Urusei Yatsura btw. it's so the same. #OH the tags are all a mess now but I ALSO WANTED TO SAY I recently found out that in different tellings of The Demon in The Tree people wil #change the type of food/offering given to the demon! which is obvious in retrospect but I didn't realize! I had only heard the version wher #you give the demon jam! and so that is my favorite version and the way I tell it too LOL. I love the idea of everyone intrinsically knowing #that demons just love jam #but anyway there are other variants where they give the demon different offerings as well! I can easily imagine asking the kids in the room #what it is that demon's love the most. and then whatever the kids pick is what the couple will offer the demon in that particular telling. #also yes duh yeah I like beauty and the beast! it's not really my favoritest. I like Prince Lindworm or Snow White Rose Red way more. #but there r some variants of beauty and the best that I like more than others. I am picky about it. which ultimately means I like it.

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

you guys ever feel like sibling relationships get dichotomized??? like theres a very real dynamic of separateness that we personally didnt enforce but everyone else did .... neither of us could do or be the same thing we always had to be directly opposing each other. terrible idea on everyone elses part because now i sometimes feel like one half of a whole person due to it

#i was rose red they were snow white i was the sun they were the moon i wrote they drew i was blonde they were brunette #i was logic they were emotion i was blue they were red i was the smart one they were the pretty one ..... thats just off the top of my head. #idk why everyone put us on the exact opposite end of the spectrum all the time like werent even that different. seriously what was up w that #and we're not even that close but it really feels like some dead ringers shit like ten years later lol #hollyws

[thegrimmlibrarian]

The Disney fairytale movie that we COULD have had #releasetheroseredcut

By now, unless you've been living under a rock, you would have heard about Disney's live action remake of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and how it is going to be a disaster, possibly even worse than Mulan in 2020 (and that was REALLY bad, even with the pandemic going on and everything).

However, what you probably DON'T know is, that there was another movie, an original one, but still related to the Snow White fairytale - a spinoff based on her sister, Rose Red.

(this is from an article by IGN from 2021)

Now Rose Red is such a cool fairytale, which I highly recommend that you look up and read for yourself. It has cursed bears, princes, dwarves, the power of kindness and love, all that good fairytale stuff. It is connected with the Snow White fairytale because one of characters, Rose Red's sister, shares the same name as the main character of the eponymous fairytale.

Don't get your hopes up though. According to the Disney wiki, the spinoff has been cancelled. Disney? Creating an entirely original live-action movie, but still pay homage to a classic Disney movie? Might be too much to hope for in this day and age.

While it is unlikely that we will get a live-action Snow White movie that actually respects the fairytale and the classic Disney movie (Cinderella is often held up as an example of a Disney live-action done right, and I agree), but there might be a chance for Rose Red.

The article says 'joining forces with the dwarves to break her curse' - that sounds like a cool adventure to me! And LOOK she's breaking the curse HERSELF! That's kinda of proactive and 'girlboss-y' if you want more princesses like that, Disney, instead of altering an old character's personality so that it fits with your unnecessary 'modern' twisting of beloved classics. And Snow White having a sister? Imagine the possibilities! Imagine the dynamic between the two! How did they deal with the evil queen as their stepmother? How did Rose Red deal with her sister disappearing and being poisoned? And where did she get the curse from? Did the evil queen curse her? Romantic interest-wise, in the fairytale, she ends up with the brother of the prince Snow White marries - a new Prince Charming! BUT what about the Huntsman? Here's a little headcanon for you - childhood friend of the sisters, forced to work for the evil queen, his guilt about how he almost killed Snow White, wants to help Rose Red undo her curse to atone for the past, bit of friends-to-enemies-to-lovers friction with Rose Red angry at him but eventually forgives him after realising he was forced to serve the Evil Queen, Rose Red and the Huntsman defeat the big bad (probably the Evil Queen who turns out not to be dead) together. Happily ever after!

Keen yet? Wishing this was... well... in production and not scrapped like it has been, unlike the cash-grabbing, girl boss-ified Snow White we are getting? Yeah. Me too. Disney, #ReleaseTheRoseRedCut

#releasetheroseredcut #snow white #snow white and the seven dwarfs #disney live action #disney #rose red #evil queen #fairytale #rachel zegler #this was a rant I needed to get out of my system #I would like Disney to go back to creating live action movies that are original but also respect their past and the classics #but it's probably not going to happen #so let's annoy them instead #spread the rose red love #we could also always goncharov this shit #now that would REALLY confuse them #tumblr let's goooooooooooooo

[brokenhardies]

Updated Actual Play OC Classes!

#the d20 ones have the most changes #not including my potential ravening war oc #but cinna went from being a paladin/warlock to being a fighter/warlock #hazel's now a druid/barbarian instead of just a barbarian #pearl is now charisma based instead of intelligence based #argent is a druid/fighter instead of ranger/druid #i also was thinking of basically giving her the same classes as ylfa - making her a barb/druid but beast barb instead of totem barb #and removing rose red's ability to heal in favor of making her codependency to her sister INCREDIBLY literal #caps tw #also i picked rune knight for argent bc a giant fuck you bear is the scariest thing i can think of lol #like the reason i didnt give her any barb levels is bc a giant fuck you bear with boosted hp from being a shifter #and advantage on strength checks from being large and raging (idk if they both cancel each other out) #would make brennan immediately kill argent and then argent's player irl :') #oh and rose's form of dread takes the form of turning her body into glass with shards popping out of her skin #and a lot of apple motifs bc of her sister snow white

[did-i-do-this-write]

I'd like to know more about Red Like Roses, White Like Snow :D

Hi, Emel! Thank you for your interest :D

So this WIP is actually one of my favorites, even though I haven't worked on it in a really really really long time. It started a long time ago in a year known as 2020 when my brother and I were going stir crazy from this little pandemic thing. Not sure if you're familiar with it (sarcasm for comedic effect only, sorry haha)

Anyway, we started this RWBY AU where we basically said "What if we just gave all our favorite characters happy endings and they all became a huge family and nothing bad ever happened?" It started with two parts: one fic where my fav ship was canon, and one where my brother's fav ship was canon. Then we wrote them at about the same time and made them overlap :D this one is my brothers, which I actually wrote the first chapter of as a gift to him. It's not finished, but what is done can be read on Ao3 here if anyone wants to skim through it haha.

#ask and you shall receive #emelkae #zac speaks #writing #writeblr #my wips #red like roses white like snow

[astral-athame]

- ̗̀ ✦ ㅤ ⸺ ㅤ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 .

Share at least 5 songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse! (I DID 10. I'M SORRY.)

Imaginary by Evanescence "Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos / Your reality. / I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge / The nightmare I built my own world to escape"

All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me) by Bullet For My Valentine "Torn apart at the seams and my dreams turn to tears / I'm not feeling this situation. / Run away, try to find a safe place you can hide"

Snow White Queen by Evanescence "I can't save your life / Though nothing I bleed for is more tormenting / I'm losing my mind / And you just stand there and stare as my world divides"

The Well by The Crane Wives "All the words I couldn't say to you / Fill up the spaces in my chest / Like spare coins, poised on the tip of my tongue / I make a wish and hold my breath"

Everybody's Fool by Evanescence "It never was and never will be / Have you no shame? / Don't you see me? / You know you've got everybody fooled"

Teen Idle by Marina "Adolescence didn't make sense / A little loss of innocence / The ugly years of being a fool / Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

The State of Dreaming by Marina "All I want is to be wonderful / People in this town they can be so cruel"

Big God by Florence + the Machine "Sometimes I think it's getting better / And then it gets much worse / Is it just part of the process? / Jesus Christ, it hurts. / Though I know I should know better / Well I can make this work / Is it just part of the process? / Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ it hurts"

Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) by Florence + the Machine "And in the spring I shed my skin / And it blows away with the changing wind / The water turns from blue to red / As towards the sky I offer it"

Labour by Paris Paloma "The capillaries in my eyes are bursting / If our loved died would that be the worst thing? / For somebody I thought was my savior / You sure make me do a whole lot of labour. / The calloused skin on my hands is cracking / If our love ends would that be a bad thing? / And the silence haunts our bed chamber / You make me do too much labour."

#( what if we rewrite the stars ⋆｡°✩ ) about #( 'cause you're a sky full of stars ⋆｡°✩ ) music #((I swear I have proper reason for every single one of these but some are just verse dependent or hypothetical situation dependent ^^;)) #((LIKE- ''Snow White Queen'' is specific to verses where the band makes it big because it's about the sometimes scary / overwhelming #way that fans act in relation to the people they idolize. LISTEN TO IT. PLEASE. IT'S SO GOOD. #And ''Labour'' is more reflective of the kind of relationship I could hypothetically see her ending up in if she's not careful because she #tends to get attached to people easily and wouldn't notice the red flags until it was too late #and she could end up stuck in this more patriarchal view of a relationship where she's basically subservient to her bf/husband/whoever #because she was kinda... wearing rose tinted glasses for so long (so to speak). #So that's more hypothetical than anything ^^;)) #((''The Well'' is just because she has a tendency to keep a lot held in and how that can have a negative effect on relationships ^^;)) #((''Imaginary'' is because she can pick and choose her dreams and so she's kinda made a little safe space for herself in a recurring dream #that she can just... go away to while she sleeps if she needs to recover from how awful real life can sometimes be ^^; #She started doing it when things started to go to hell with her parents' marriage and she has kept it up off and on ever since ^^;))

[uncouth-peasant]

I’m rewatching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and I love the intro where the mirror is listing off qualities that the prettiest girl in town has and the queen is like “‘skin as white as snow’— SNOW WHITE >:C”

Girl you’re in Europe that’s not a clue

#like maybe it was Susan down the road #this also implies the existence of a Rose Red #and an Ebony Black #mirror: can I finish who tf— #really jumping the gun aren’t we #luckily you only know one fucking person like this huh #maybe it wasn’t snow maybe you just need to change your fucking blush #he’s a mirror he’d know #snow white #“And she HATES CLEANING” #“WITH A VOICE LOW AS AN OWLS” #There’s some poor beautiful alto that this story completely missed

[etfrin]

⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!

⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>

It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.

You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.

You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.

You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.

It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’

Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.

It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).

The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.

He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!

The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.

‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.

‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’

He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.

Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.

Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”

He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.

His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.

“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.

He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.

The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.

He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?

He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.

It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.

“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”

That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.

The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’

The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.

“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”

You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”

“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.

You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.

He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.

You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.

You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.

Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.

His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.

‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.

“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.

‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.

He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.

He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.

You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.

You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.

You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.

“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.

Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.

He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.

He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.

His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.

His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.

It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.

You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.

You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.

As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.

“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”

Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”

You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”

His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.

He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.

His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.

“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.

“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.

“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”

You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.

You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.

One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.

“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.

Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.

The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.

What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”

The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.

He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.

He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.

He loves you after all, in his twisted way.

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer

#character x reader #x reader #x female reader #x you #fem reader #scenario #oneshot #smut #x reader smut #x you smut #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #president snow #dystopian fiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie #the hunger games #tbosas x you #tbosas smut #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #arranged marriage

[achilleid]

I had an interesting dream…

It was very much almost a Snow White story. The king’s wife died and he had remarried and his new wife hated and feared her step daughter. Eventually she convinced the king that his child was cursed and came up with lies that she had tried to murder her new half brother in his crib.

The girl is “sent away” but the queen sent assassins to kill her on the road. She escaped, but is thought dead.

Later as an adult, she returns after the death of her father and asks only to be allowed to attend his funeral and for recognition she is the lost child. She wants no titles or fortunes, just the affirmation of her identity. Her half brother, shocked by the revelation, wants to give this to her, but his mother convinces him that he should deny her everything because she “tried to kill him”.

Being not as cruel as his mother, he offers her money and land and a title that would pass to any heirs she has— but says he will not recognize her. What reason would he have to legitimize someone who can challenge his claim? He tries to convince her it is better to go in peace with what he offers.

She refuses and declares war upon his mother and tells him it is better he go in peace and leave them to their fight.

Shit gets bad really quick. Both the siblings were very sympathetic characters in my dream too!!! Like he’s not a monster and neither is she, but they are set against each other because of succession and betrayal and the schemes of others.

In the end I can only imagine it would end in a Pyrrhic victory for one side and ultimately be a tragedy 🥲

#dreams #writing inspo #writing inspiration #I would definitely like to see it become a self filling prophecy #with the sister killing her brother as the queen always lied she had tried to do #the half brother might even make a good half sister #do some Snow White and rose red parallels