oh god this account is ancient

hello 👁

[wordslikepoisonn]

I’m sorry but

Cardan from TFOTA + Jest from Heartless = AMAZING

JUST THINK ABOUT IT

Cardan loves Alice in wonderland (or has at least read it)

he’d be entertained by Jest and would likely want him for his court

And jest would be BEWILDERED LIKE “?? Uh… Your majesty? What do you mean, I’m from a book?”

I NEED TO SEE THIS, PEOPLE

[somerandomtomato]

HEARTLESS HAS A MUSICAL??????

[corvidsage]

My number one headcannon for Heartless by Marissa Meyer is that post-Heartless Cath, once queen, would have an incredibly poor sleep schedule and instead of seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes in the mirror she'd see the kohl that Jest would wear all the time and it would only drive her further into madness because, even without a heart, her thoughts still clung to his memory.

[cyanide-sodapop]

alternate universe of heartless where jest didn’t fucking die

[theanxiousfireblossom]

So I finished Heartless by Marissa Meyer a couple weeks ago and something I have been nonstop thinking about is Cath’s parents.

100%, I blame them for everything that happened, but they are just so interesting to me. They spend the first 90% of the book telling Cath what is best for her, but never truly listening when she tries to talk to them. Even her father, the one that was more open to her baking and recognized her talent for it and the joy it brought her, would not even CONSIDER the idea of her opening a bakery with a maid.

I kind of see where they were coming from. Their daughter was part of the gentry and would have no real concept of working her way through life. She also was seventeen, and few teenagers know what will actually bring them happiness, but they wouldn’t even let her try. They were forcing their dreams down her throat and ignoring how it was drowning her even though there were signs of it.

Cath hadn’t become cruel before she ran off with Jest, but you can see how she is starting to unravel into what will later make her the Queen of Hearts we all know and love. She stops holding back her thoughts, telling multiple people off, and generally just being grumpier.

Then everything falls completely apart and suddenly her parents are like “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”. To which she, rightfully so, tells them things could have been wildly different if they had thought to consider her actual happiness sooner.

To me, it really feels like they ignored the signs and with the gift of hindsight, realized their dreams were genuinely not going to make Cath happy, so they try to back peddle not realizing it is far too late for that. Cath’s reputation has cut Mary Ann out of her life. Cath’s reputation is so far gone, bakery would never succeed. Jest is dead. She has nothing left that brought her joy.

So, yeah. Her parents drove me crazy, but their reactions at the end of the book were just so amazingly blind to me.

[l0veb0mb1ng]

waltz

♡ regency!l'manbur x reader ♡

warnings: none! event masterlist

notes: i love war and peace /hj, regency stuff, idk, it was just on the mind, i would be open to making this longer in the future if people want me to <3 arggagga

taglist: @saccharinesunset

The grand hall is filled with the music from the band, the room swaying to the melody, a swirling dance of unison and practiced steps. Pairs of people dance around each other, fingers laced and unlaced, rotating small talk with each partner. It’s exhausting, you’ve always found it that way, a petty dance of look at me and let me lie to you. Men promise you sweetness and riches and you nod along with those falsities. Each ball is like this, another long arduous chance to endure torture at the hands of suitors vying for your hand in marriage. 

Your family's name lay heavy in each interaction, touches more desperate when they met you for a dance. You obfuscate and impress if only to stop your mother from arranging an alliance, giving you away without choice, your life severed to a loveless marriage. You decorate yourself in signs of your worth, jewels that sparkle more than your eyes, and fabrics so expensive you can’t imagine how they have come to be laid against your frame. Even now you force a smile, giggle as a man you have not retained anything about spins you around, your feet lifting off the ground for only a moment. He grins as his touch leaves your waist and moves to kiss the back of your gloved hand and pass you to the next waiting dance partner. 

You can’t help but raise a brow as the next man meets you with a smile. You recognize him, regretfully, the proud grin not something you could ever easily look over. He was a man of accomplishment and rumors. Wilbur was a man you did not ever think you would be meeting like this. 

“Mr. President,” you hum, forcing a matching smile onto your face. He is a beau, a beautiful visage of brown eyes and dark curly hair. “and to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” You drift up your fingertips to flatten down the ruffles of his shirt. You stare for a moment at the gold accents that perfectly complement the red and dark navy of his uniform. Unscratched golden buttons and epaulets make the man seem far more put together than you ever heard of him to be. You had heard rumors of drunken nights, a controversy that spread through the whispers of gossip and to your waiting ear. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he purrs as the two of you take your proper places, feet apart, his hand on your hip and yours on his shoulder. He interlinks your fingers and finally, the music once again comes to life. You are embarrassed at the way the golden light of the room makes him absolutely breathtaking, highlighting every one of his perfect features and making him seem more god than mortal. “I’ve been watching you all night, my love, just as every other man here with half a brain,” 

“You’ve never been so forward, general,” you say teasingly, fluttering your eyelashes at him as he spins you. He was never supposed to speak to you like this, the same way as those other men, like he wasn’t untouchable. Your heart races as he reels you back in, hand now more firmly pressing into your waist. The weight of it sends you off into a spiral of less-than-holy thoughts, things that were not to be discovered now but pondered in the privacy of your bedroom. 

“Have I not?” he feigns surprise “I thought my lingering stares all night would be enough to clue you in, my dear?” you can’t help the flush that finds its way to your cheeks as the ending of your brief dance together grows closer. 

“I’m more used to hearing of men’s interest in me through marriage proposals,” you say and watch as his face scrunches up. 

“And is that what you would rather?” he asks you, leaning closer with a smile. “That I speak with your father?”

“I guess not,” you hum back as the music demands you leave each other. You slip from him then, lose him in the chaos of changing dance partners, but no longer can you focus on the act of pretending to be interested in the various men with the same story. You shouldn’t be thinking about Wilbur, drunken president and well-spoken poet. Yet you keep meeting his eyes from across the room, finding any chance to stare at the back of his head or feel your heart flutter as his brown eyes crinkle with a smile when they meet yours. You excuse yourself with a wave of your hand, slink to the edge of the room, and further still. You collapse into an empty table, sitting in a chair with your forced slowed breathing. 

You felt insensible, made small by the magnitude of your desire for the man. The urge to tuck the affections away rises more and more as you sit alone. You were not meant to think of anyone like that, not meant to love so quickly, trip over yourself just for a man, especially not one like him. He is that culmination of forbidden, a bad man even if celebrated for wins in war. He did not know decorum, not manners, not in the way your father would demand. He wasn’t just untouchable, he was implausible.

“My love?” and you know it is him before you look. Love is not in your nature but when you meet his doe eyes you let yourself dream that it could be.

“Have you spoken to my father?” you asked him, pushing down your feelings with an inhale through your nose and an inquisitive look. It's the correct thing to ask when just his current proximity now, alone, is vulgar in the eyes of high society.

“You told me not to,” he says, sitting down in the chair closest to you. It’s dimmer here, his face more angled. The pair of you are hidden for now, free to break as many customary rules as either of you wish, and yet a voice in the back of your mind is screaming that you must remain cordial, traditional, and distant. 

“and are you taking orders from me now?” you taunt and the sound of his laugh is music to your ears, the sweetest melody ever awarded to you by any such man vying for your attention. 

“Would it please you if I did?” he asks leaning towards you. You can’t help the butterflies his question brings you. 

“No,” you whisper and he doesn’t retreat from your space, remains close as wandering eyes do not seek you both out for once. 

“Excuse my words then, my dear, but you are incomparable to every lowly person here,” he says and you flush again, hiding your face away from his view by tucking it against your chest. “Don’t hide from me, darling,” 

“It’s unfair to say that,” you whisper and he laughs lightly. 

“I would disagree, all these men here to see you and you want to act bashful now? You must know they find you irresistible,” embarrassment grabs you then, so suddenly as praises flow from his devilish tongue. 

“And how do you find me, President?” you lock eyes with him and force yourself to feel confident under his half-lidded gaze. It’s prodding, unseemly to say, and yet it leaves you all the same, begging him to confess his attraction to you.

“Divine, the envy of angels,” he purrs. You blink at him in surprise, still ever thwarted by the affection of his sentiments. 

The two of you spend the rest of the night together, dancing idly away from the others, sharing a conversation that does not demand the weight of a title. It's unseemly, against what you've been taught, but he speaks of books he has read recently, shares tales of the world away, and horrible moments of a war now won. When the night grows tired, steps more often than not clumsy he walks you to your parents with a hand hovering on the small of your back. 

You watch as he slips your glove off with his calloused fingertips, a dragging action akin to undressing you with his eyes. He presses his lips against the back of your hand in a gesture that makes your body thrum with excitement you almost can’t make yourself conceal. It’s inconceivable, the gasp that comes from your mother is proof enough of her disapproval. His eyes look up at you through dark lashes and you can’t find the strength to be angry with the spectacle he’s made of the pair of you. You pull him closer quickly and whisper in his ear in a breathless way, one last desperate attempt to keep his attention past this shared moment. 

“Don’t let this be the last time I am graced with your company,” you say, hushed, keeping the words hidden from your waiting family. He steps back from you with a small smile and a nod to your father. 

You wait to hear from him again, a week passes before a letter is handed to you. You give a quick thank you before retreating to open the parcel alone. It smells of him, like wood and smoke, like the stuffy air that follows you into your dreams and feeds your want like oxygen to a flame. 

‘I wish to see you again. Would you allow me that, my love?’ - W

[luna-azzurra]

Different ways to describe brown eyes

1. Warm chocolate eyes

2. Deep mahogany eyes

3. Rich coffee-colored eyes

4. Earthy brown eyes

5. Chestnut-brown eyes

6. Amber-brown eyes

7. Mocha-colored eyes

8. Hazel-brown eyes

9. Caramel-colored eyes

10. Nut-brown eyes

11. Dark chocolate eyes

12. Cocoa-colored eyes

13. Walnut-brown eyes

14. Espresso-brown eyes

15. Burnished bronze eyes

[deity-prompts]

Enemies-to-Lovers Generator

Dynamic:

Coworkers

Classmates

Use the same mode of public transport

Rivals

Best friends’ ex’s

Neighbours

Roommates

Shop worker and frequent shopper

Teammates

One has hired the other for a freelance job

Why they hate each other:

They don’t, they’re just in denial about being attracted to each other.

A received an honour (promotion, award, etc.) that B believes they themself deserved.

A has habits that really annoy B.

A terrible first impression.

Something specific to their dynamic.

What forces them together:

They make a mutually beneficial agreement.

A wild misunderstanding.

They need to fake date.

A disaster (natural or otherwise).

They make a bet and are eager to settle it.

They team up against someone / something they mutually hate.

A gets injured and B helps them.

A needs help for a project that B is an expert on.

They get trapped in a space together.

They’re involved in the same wedding party.

Dialogue prompt:

“Stop mocking me.” “sToP mOcKiNg mE.”

“You consider us enemies? Really?”

“I know you’re trying to insult me but it doesn’t work if you keep calling me hot.”

“I will never be your friend.”

“I can’t argue with you when I’m this . . .” “What? Turned on?”

“I know I’m smiling but I’m this close to punching you.”

“Look past your hatred and see me for me.”

“Everyone thinks we still hate each other, might as well take advantage of it.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” “I forgave you the second you walked through the door.”

“I know where you live and I own gasoline, remember that.”

Also see:

First date generator

Enemies to lovers masterlist

Prompts masterlist

[pictures-of-abuserwilbur]

Hey I did some vague math based on his fretboard and his fingers are like 5 inches long or something. Thought you'd want to know

PERSONALITY……….

[pictures-of-abuserwilbur]

Coughs.

[corvidsage]

hELLO??? 😭😭😭😭😭

[lunelicmoone]

lmanbur is so boyfriend material i think

[lunelicmoone]

happy birthday l'manburg declaration of independence day

[lunelicmoone]

happy independence day l'manburg

[corvidsage]

Wilbur soot count your days.

If you are seeing this Mr Gold count your days because how DARE you stream after so long TWO HOURS after I fall asleep????? Hello??????? Literally two hours after I fall asleep you stream for an hour and a half while I am unconscious and an hour later I find that you've streamed. After mONTHS of being deprived of content I completely miss it I am so miserable :( Anyways don't count your days cause wonderful stream I watch it as I type this. (Come to South Africa smh)

[lyssys-archived]

Post Chapter 4 Scene- Crystal

— SUMMARY: after an eventful night, the Princess finds herself in trouble with her mother, and the house staff makes an interesting observation.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had this written out but forgot to post it!!!!!!! ahhhhh!!!!! anyway, here it is!! I hope you pick up on some of the little details I put in and you can figure out what im hinting at :)

— TAGLIST/MOOTS:  @sardonic-the-writer@luna-tides @joviepog@grey-rambles@loversj0y@meep-frog-mari@the-radio-system-writes@z0vamp@thegryffindoraxolotl@stangelvve@lvjymcyt@wilburslooth@lvyu@wilburofthedumbasses, @ella-fella-bo-bella, @mysticalsoot, @lillylvjy, @sixofshadowandbone, @the-phantom-author, @kisstheskin, @moonbeam-is-mean (let me know if i forgot you!)

—WORD COUNT: 1,192

PREVIOUS ‘UNFINISHED SYMPHONIES’ CHAPTERS-> chapter one | chapter two | 2.5 -the drawing room | chapter three | 3.5 - the brothers | 3.5 - the friends | chapter 4 | 4.5 - tnt | YOU'RE HERE

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The Princess- not for the first time in her structured, tight-laced life- found herself mad with boredom. 

She was lounged in her drawing room, sitting far from the way a princess should, with nothing to do but stare at her surroundings, as there were no suitors here for her today. Her hair was an undone mess, falling over her shoulders, still yawning off the sleep after a whole night and early morning of dancing and she had asked her lady's maids to leave her be this morning. Around her were the same pristine walls, the same repetitive white with gold trimming and murals of angels and saints that she grew up with and that reminded her sorely what her title was. Heavy curtains half-draped across the floor-to-ceiling windows that let bright morning sunlight filter through the room, proving the hard work the maids had gone through to ensure the crystals on the chandelier, and even the glassware, were all polished perfectly. Just as she should be. A diamond. Sparkle for the eyes of the men. 

She lounged in a chair next to the window and stared out the glass. Though it was bright and shining, a heavy snow was now falling, and as she glanced over the town that lay far below the castle walls, she couldn’t help the anxiety that tugged at her heart, hoping Wilbur had made it home safely. 

Her eyes slipped shut, thinking about him. Perhaps she would doze off a bit, what was the harm?

Wilbur looked so handsome.

She saw him for the first time that night as she descended the staircase- he was standing among the swarm of men seeking her hand. Of course, she saw him even in the swarm, though his status was anything but nobility and he had forced himself to blend into the crowd, his height certainly made him stand out. He may not have been the grandest looking man in terms of muscular, soldiered builds, but she could pick out his head of wild brown curls anywhere. He wasn’t in his usual attire, of course, as a tattered jacket and faded and yellowed cotton shirt would guarantee a bar from entering the castle, though she would have loved him all the same. He was wearing a royal blue coat and collared shirt, tied high on his neck in the way of many noblemen. 

She had approached him, watching him fumble in nerves under the interrogation of an elder woman of whom she’d heard rumors, seeking out men younger than her husband to bed for the night. She had asked him to dance, something that she knew would have her parents frowning. A princess approaching a man? Instead of sitting back and simmering and waiting for them to approach her? It was absolutely news worthy, perhaps even sickening to some. She was supposed to be docile and innocent, waiting for men to lead the way for her. 

What had all her childhood lessons in politics and science meant then? 

The Princess’s thoughts were interrupted when into the room burst her mother- the Queen- accompanied by the swell of guards and ladysmaids around her. With only a lifted hand, the Queen dismissed all staff from the room, and they funneled out just as quietly as they’d entered. She sat gracefully on the lounging chair in the center of the room, but (Y/N) cared not to address her, and kept her gaze steady on the town outside the window. Until her mother spoke. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know of what you speak.” 

“You do.” 

It bubbled up in her head then. The less joyous memories of the night before. “You are to find a suitable man by the end of the night, or I will take it upon myself to have you given to who I see fit. You’ve had plenty of time. Find yourself a suitor tonight, before I put you somewhere. Make that connection you want, find that love, or else I will find it for you. And I- frankly- don’t care about your love.” 

Her mother was talking again. “All we want for you is the best. Think about the Kingdom-”

She turned her head then, angry and righteous. “Why must I so often consider what others want for me? Why may I not simply enjoy one’s company for one night?”

“There is no ‘enjoying one’s company’. Not at a ball, and certainly not for royalty.” Her mother countered. (Y/N), as stubbborn as she was, knew this was true, and part of her- the dutiful part, desperate to make her bloodline proud of her- almost regretted the night before. In the passion of what she’d found with Wilbur, she had forgotten all she used to work towards. Making sure her ancestors and her people were proud of her. That she wasn’t letting anyone down. “For you,” The Queen continued. “There is courtship, and marriage, and producing heirs of royal blood.” She continued with a more gentle approach. “There is no time for games of passion. Not for a Princess.” 

(Y/N) sighed, forever troubled by the title that hung over her head as if always on alert to smash her drea,s. Defeated, she sunk back into her chair. “Perhaps I wish I weren’t ‘of royal blood’ anymore.” She muttered. 

“(Y/N).” Her mother warned. “You would not say that if you saw the way they lived.” 

“Freely? Free from the shackles of studies and courting and duty?” She spat the word with venom. 

“You are an ignorant girl.” Her mother stood, many skirts sweeping out around her. “We will resolve this later, with your father. As for courting, you have a caller waiting, so ready yourself.” Without even turning to the door, she called out to her Queen’s Man. “Harvey!” 

The doors opened immediately, always ready at her beck and call. “Your Majesty?” He bowed.

“We need this room readied for the caller. And ask them to bring the finest crystal.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Then, a house staff leaned in close to whisper to him. He listened, nodded, and addressed the Queen again. “Your Majesty, I’ve been told there has been a… substantial amount of cutlery found missing as of the most recent cleaning.”

“Missing?” The Queen seemed shocked. The last time something had been missing from the Palace, after decades of weekly inventories, was before (Y/N)’s birth, and the culprit had been dealt with accordingly. Someone must have misplaced them, or worse, a staff was stealing.  Regardless, someone would be dismissed. “Well, find where they’ve gone, and report back to me.” 

“Of course, your Majesty.” He signaled the staff away and waited for the Queen to exit the room before following behind her. 

(Y/N) sat still, her mind drifting through the seemingly meaningless conversation back to images of Wilbur hiding delicacies in his bag, the way his fingers always seemed to itch to touch every crystal dish and fork. The way his eyes fell on her brother’s pocketwatch and cufflinks with hunger when they hid in his room all those months ago. 

She brushed the thoughts away and picked herself up. Might as well play along today. 

[corvidsage]

It's only today that I realize my cousin shares a birthday with L'manburg's independence day. Guess which one I celebrated first and only realized the second later on?

[writing-prompt-s]

You adopted what seemed like a normal gecko. One day, it starts walking on two legs and learns to talk back to you in your own language.

[corvidsage]

Lyle Shawn Mendes crocodile bro

[corvidsage]

What's ur name man?

[corvidsage]

Ummm???? Guys??? 😭 It's 23:57 and I'm going through the replies of a comment I made and someone replies "[my irl name]???" I AM PANICKING MY YOUTUBE PROFILE DOES NOT HAVE MY NAME NOR DO ANY OF MY VIDEOS HWAT IS GOING ON AND HOW DID THEY KNOW WHO ARE THEY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[pannamara]

I hope you like my new art of Cardan Greenbriar ✨