flawless fearlessness

give me good lighting and warm hands, outline of a lily-freckled hillscape, some soft place where i can bury my heart instead. indie princess oc written by bee.

[lovecurst]

#lovecurst.    independent    &    selective  FAIRYTALE PRINCESS / SNOW WHITE.  an amalgamation of different fairytales all smashed into one. beloved by bee.

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[lovecurst]

WHAT SOFT ROMANCE CLICHE ARE YOU?

the almost kiss. you're unsure about things, always hesitating. why is that? maybe there's something to lose for you, but maybe (just maybe) the risk is worth it. you're the moment when the main characters lean in, lips parted and almost touching. but it's not the actual kiss everyone loves, it's the anticipation. when they look into each other's eyes before their lids flutter close. and there's a lot of frustration when things are interrupted. trust me though, you're a lot more memorable than the actual kiss. you're nervous, but at the end of the day all you want is to be loved.

tagged by @jokethur / tagging: you!

[sabiyiarch-deactivated20230517]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 ⠀⠀[ … ]⠀⠀ 𝐈'𝐌 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

[lovecurst]

i always think about my oc treatment of the girl in chateau d'onterre where she was conscripted by a warden that her parents reached out to out of desperation and that warden was like fuck uhhhhhhhhh ur coming w me

[lovecurst]

nan & pippa trying to convince me to bring greer cousland back to life

[manymusicals]

Visit Original Link

“A Girl in the Valley” - The Secret Garden

[lovecurst]

SNOW & MAGIC

cannot change most physical things, especially regarding the human body. while “i am not cold, i am warm” would take away the sting of a winters night one would still freeze and perish even while feeling as though they were seated beside a jolly and roaring hearth.

cannot raise the dead. trying only results in disappointment. similarly cannot heal wounds or cure illness, though it can mask the feelings of pain caused by such things.

cannot conjure an item out of nothing but air. it can change one item into another, so long as they are made up of the same thing. for example a fork could be easily changed into a spoon. similarly, colors of items can be altered ; after all, what is a color but ones perception of the bending of light?

can change PERCEPTION easily. this is how the serving girl intended on switching places with snow - she meant for everyone to simply perceive them as the opposite person. it was her imprecise wording when swapping places that accidentally truly switched their lives and positions.

one must be extremely careful with their words and intentions when trying to create changes in the world. the larger and more meaningful the change, the more careful one must be. even the slightest miswording - especially if a word has a double meaning - could spell disaster. consequences like accidentally giving away your power in a bid for a crown are not entirely unusual. even worse can happen if you’re not careful.

can be unpredictable if you aren’t very careful with your word choices. any vagueness can result in something unintended occurring. the statement “i will never see you again” has multiple possible results due to its vague nature. maybe you will never cross paths with the intended, maybe you will stop perceiving them when in their presences, or maybe you will be unable to see at all whenever the intended is in your line of sight. choosing your words very specifically is imperitive.

snow, truthfully, does not use magic very often - likely due to never asking for it. her garden is stated to be a beautiful place where the sun will always feel warm and welcoming. the tea will always seem to be the drinker’s preferred temperature. it is soft, tender magic that snow has woven delicately into her space and that gentle touch is palpable. it has created an energy that lingers around both snow’s cottage and snow herself.

it isn’t something someone is born with. this magic is usually taught ; the way to weave words into the world and make them truths is often taught to children by their parents in kitchens and beside looms, generally practiced by people who live on the outskirts of the wood. when the serving girl transferred her power to snow it was more akin to a transfer of knowledge rather than moving some unknowable gift from one soul to another.

[lovecurst]

anyways

When a thing is wick, it has a life about it Now, maybe not a life like you and me But somewhere there's a single streak of green inside it Come, and let me show you what I mean

When a thing is wick, it has a light around it Maybe not a light that you can see But hiding down below a spark's asleep inside it Waiting for the right time to be seen

[lovecurst]

i'm on my the secret garden musical shit again sorry in advance

[manymusicals]

Visit Original Link

“Wick” - The Secret Garden

[morozkov]

ㅤ' this weather, ' and as i spoke, i heard a sound that was not unlike the splintering of a great oak tree. the icy water bordering that road was cracking at my whim, responding to the gentle heat beneath my temples and the way my pulse had quickened. was it simple human nature to so readily insult me? i pondered this a while each night, for mortal kind in general were so quick to judge that supposed cruelty of my cold. and she had come with the bounty of spring and autumn, a humble offering for my servants to behold out there wandering the enchanted wood. my eyes were sharp as daggers, peering at her from their narrow corners with my mouth both wide and tight. ' claims only the unprepared and, i suppose, those unfortunate humans that are left to die in the wilderness around us. '

but life was cruel. those who possessed the brain to stay alive would do so of their own volition. and spirits would not hearken to her kindness as she wanted. would not bow to her whimsy and break bread or eat it from her hands. we were made of stronger sinew with a taste for flesh and bone. ( and besides, spring was around the corner. it wouldn't be long until fresh green shoots began to sprout from underneath the snow. and then the berries would bloom fresh and the geysers of kamchatka would bellow and steam the air... ) i must have looked very annoyed at the concepts she presented. at least, i could feel my brows were furrowed. and so i bowed my head from the weight of what snow had dusted from the branches, and felt it lining the black exposed-bones that were curled on top my hair.

ㅤ' the creatures that you feed, lisichka? they are foxes and wolves at best. their death is part of nature, and will feed the coming spring. interfering will save one or two. but this stupidity will deprive another creature their meal come that morning. so, why must you continue? '

[lovecurst]

her steps don't falter, her soft smile doesn't waver, and she tips her head towards him with a look of mild understanding in her eye. "well, i was once an unprepared human left to die in the wilderness," which is she no longer? unprepared? human? left to die? perhaps none, or perhaps all three. snow feels little kinship with the people she sells the very honey and jam that sits in her basket when she goes into the town markets during the other seasons, other than a gentle and distant kindness as she watches them and accepts coin in exchange for her wares. they whisper about her, about the witch from the dread wood, in the same voice they whisper about a dead princess in a crystal coffin or a stack of mattresses a story high. a story, indeed. snow steps over a half-buried branch and motions so he might not tread upon it and break it. "so maybe i have a bit of a soft spot for such things."

the fabric is tucked back down around her basket and she adjusts the hood of her cloak for a moment before pulling it down about her shoulders altogether - - - it is warm, yes, but it is making it difficult to look at her companion. "well, sometimes a fox or wolf isn't simply a fox or wolf," just as sometimes a beggar woman isn't just a beggar woman, though it isn't as though snow is bounding about feeding every woodland creature in the hopes some powerful faerie might reveal themself within the skin of the animal - - - snow has had quite enough of that for several lifetimes over, thank you. "a friend of mine spent several years as a bear, and i'm rather glad he never became a meal for the next season," the brook is more ice than running water and snow steps easily over it, "someone in this wood saved me with little more than a bed and a warm meal, once. i feel it only right to return the favor when i can. perhaps you disagree with me, sir, but i take joy in my little - stupidities, you called them?" there's a lilting sort of laugh at that. she has been called worse. far worse.

"there's no saving something without losing something else. perhaps there was some other girl who was lost at the same moment as i was then, and because i was rescued she starved," snow shrugs with one shoulder and walks towards a slight parting in the trees that seems to lead to a clearing, "that doesn't make me less thankful i survived."

[lovecurst]

how have i been writing snow since june 2021 what the hell

[morozkov]

private & selective writing blog for  morozko,   karachun,   the devil tsar of black midwinter,   the demon of world’s first frost;   best known from pushkin’s fairytales.   strongly horror-based with direct references to eldritch horror themes.   thawed by roza.   carrd.

[girlsets]

ABIGAIL COWEN as ANGEL in REDEEMING LOVE (2022)

[worthfuls]

i need a father. i need a mother. i need some older, wiser being to cry to. - SYLVIA PLATH.

[lovecurst]

look, we are not unspectacular things. we've come this far, survived this much. what would happen if we decided to survive more? to love harder?

independent original princess based on multiple fairytales - snow white - written by bee (24, she/they, est)

[morozkov]

‘  on  lonely  nights  i  stare  into  the  trees,  and  a  strange  face  leers  back.  ’

ㅤㅤi had no guess as to where i was being lead, but could not think of any way i might complain. the soles of my boots were soundless against the white expanse, and what fear i had of my exposed horns subsided with the shade of trees. my skin was dark against the blue fabric woven into silver, spotless still despite the stroll through open land. the same could not be said of her, for she was no vasilsa. i could see very plainly that the hem of her dress was dirty even despite the row of crystals that had formed from the freezing ice. how, i had to wonder, had @lovecurst braved the freezing temperature and her toes had not frozen solid? the favor of mat zemlya was all i could assume. but the world turned at my behest, and the ground would warm beneath her feet. it was a small trick, and i would suffer little.

' there are many things that live there, moya lisichka. and fewer who would wish you ill in the bowels of your own home. ' i wasn't lying to her. i couldn't. i would never besmirch the kindly natures of the domovoy or the dvorovoi who are so diligent in their work. but i could not shake the knowledge of what was darker and more hungry laying dormant in these woods. there was of course the upyr, and the indistinguishable vulkodlak. but they need not be mentioned now. her friendliness unnerved me. i am used to fear and a mouth of snaggle-toothed teeth chattering from the cold. snegurochka favored this girl who was named for the softness of winter, and much as so loathed it, there was some vulnerable part of me that did not want to disappoint her. ' what man mistakes as monster are who tend to the very land and the spaces in between. '

[lovecurst]

it doesn't scare her. maybe snow misspoke. there's little about the things of the wood that scare her these days. even the most fearsome tend to pass her by, glancing at her and then going on their ways without a pause in their step. snow can remember running breathless and reckless through the underbrush with the knowledge that sharp teeth and wicked claws could be pursuing her ; these days she simply walks, sidestepping things she ought not tread upon. snow sidesteps such a thing now, a patch beneath the blanket of her namesake where she knows there is a circle of toadstools. though she doubts her company need fear the faefolk snow still gestures for him to follow along in her footsteps, the gloved hand not wrapped 'round a basket handle darting out from the confines of her worn pale purple cloak. her boots have left prints in the snow, which seems strangely more wont to melt where she steps now.

"i'm not afraid of them," snow says with a smile that she tips her head so he might see from behind the fur-lined hood she wears pulled over her curls, "most of the beings out here scarcely bother me, or have helped me in my life here," the friendly faces of her friends who have helped build her home, who bring her trinkets they have found, who sit with her in the garden on sunny afternoons to chat ; the companionship she has found between the trees and in fine clearings is better than any she found within castle walls. "but i worry whoever it is might starve in this weather." the basket is lifted a little, its contents covered by a secure wrap of fabric, "though i must admit that because i don't know this face in particular i'm not sure what they enjoy, so i thought we might bring a bit of everything." the fabric is untucked so he might peer into the basket and at its contents. a few small glass jars of golden honey and jewel-colored jams, preserved meat and a some cheese, a bundle of dried flowers, and a small tin of what might be tea. "they only come out at night, though, so i suppose i'll just leave it where i usually see them and come back in the morning to see what they liked best."