𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄
luke thompson, gay, male + he/him → isn’t that leopold (von) weisshaupt? the story claims that they’re snow white from snow white. i hear they’re 35. in the cursed town they’re (heir +) vet (unofficial animal shelter manager), but back in the fairy tale realm they were a prince(ss). they seem to be compassionate & charming, but also idealistic & stubborn. their aesthetics include the crisp bite of winter air on pale flushed cheeks, the faint scent of cedar and cold iron, apple blossoms drifting across dark water.
𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
FULL NAME: [ LEOPOLD VON WEISSHAUPT ] ALSO KNOWN AS: [ SNOW WHITE ] NICKNAME: [ SNOW, LEO ] AGE: [ 35 ] GENDER/PRONOUNS: [ MALE, HE/HIM ] ORIENTATION: [ HOMOSEXUAL ] SPECIES: [ HUMAN (PROBABLY) ] FAIRY TALE CONNECTION: [ SNOW WHITE ] OCCUPATION (PRE-CURSE): [ PRINCE, SERVANT, REFUGEE, WARRIOR, KING ] OCCUPATION (CURSE/PELLAR TOWN): [ VET ] ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: [ HOMOROMANTIC ] SEXUAL ORIENTATION: [ HOMOSEXUAL ] SEXUAL TEMPERAMENT: [ SUBMISSIVE-LEANING ] SEXUAL POSITION: [ BOTTOM ]
𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: [ FLORIAN D'CHARMONT ] CHILDREN: [ NONE (YET?) ] PARENTS: [ FRANZ + CHARLOTTE ] SIBLINGS: [ RORY FIELDS (HALF-BROTHER) ] FRIENDS: [ A FEW ]
𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒
FACE CLAIM: [ LUKE THOMPSON ] EYE COLOUR: [ GREY/BLUE + GREEN ] HAIR COLOUR: [ BROWN ] HEIGHT: [ 5'11 | 1.80 METRES ] BODY BUILD: [ ATHLETIC, LEAN, TONED ] FACIAL HAIR: [ NAH. ] TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: [ SECRET. ] NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: [ PALE SKIN AND BRIGHT/SHARP (YET KIND) EYES. A FEW FAINT SCARS FROM TRAINING AND WARRING WITH GRIMHILDE. ]
𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒
PHOBIAS/FEARS: [ BEING ABANDONED. BEING BETRAYED BY LOVED ONES. DARKNESS. CLAUSTROPHOBIA ] MENTAL DISORDERS: [ PTSD. MILD OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. ]
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
INTELLIGENCE: [ 115 IQ. ] MYER-BRIGGS: [ INFJ ] LIKES: [ ANIMALS. COOKING/BAKING. CLEANING. BOOKS. SPENDING TIME WITH LOVED ONES. ] DISLIKES: [ CRUELTY. VIOLENCE. ANIMALS SUFFERING. DISHONESTY. CONFLICT. BEING TRAPPED. ] POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ COMPASSIONATE, CHARMING, PATIENT, OBSERVANT ] NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: [ HESITANT, SELF-SACRIFICIAL, IDEALISTIC, STUBBORN- ]
𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒
AESTHETICS: [ PALE SKIN GLOWING IN WINTER LIGHT. RAVEN HAIR BRUSHED BY FOREST BREEZES. OBSERVANT EYES TRACKING EVERY MOVEMENT. CALLUSED HANDS STROKING FUR OR LEAVES. SCARRED FOREARM FROM BATTLES PAST. THE Scent OF EARTH AND FRESH SNOW. QUIET FOOTSTEPS ON FROSTED PATHS. SOFT VOICE CALMING FEARFUL CREATURES. LETTERS SMUGGLED BY RAVENS. HIDDEN SMILES FULL OF LOVE. SUNLIGHT THROUGH TOWER WINDOWS. AN APPLE SLICED SLOWLY ON A COUNTER. WARM TEA STEAMING AGAINST THE COLD. FOREST CREATURES GATHERING NEAR. THE PATTER OF HOOVES AND PADS ON DIRT. HEART BEATING WITH LOYALTY AND CARE. LOVE HELD QUIET. A KINGDOM LOST AND RECLAIMED. A CURSE LINGERING LIKE FROST ON SKIN. ] INSPO: [ BREATHE ME (SIA). DOG DAYS ARE OVER (FLORENCE+THE MACHINE). IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE (HOZIER). CASTLE ON THE HILL (ED SHEERAN). CHASING CARS (SNOW PATROL). BELIEVER (IMAGINE DRAGONS). ]
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒
KINKS: [ VANILLA. PRAISE. BREEDING. HAIR PULLING. VERBAL FEMINISATION. NIPPLE PLAY. WORSHIP. CHOKING (ONLY FLORIAN). CONSENSUAL SOMNOPHILIA. COCKWARMING. AFFECTION. GENTLE. BEING USED. SKIN TO SKIN CONTACT. PROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE DYNAMICS (BE HIS KNIGHT OR OWN HIM TY). PET PLAY (I CAN EXPLAIN!). EXHIBITIONISM. TEASING/DENIAL. ] ANTI-KINKS: [ VORE. SCAT. VIOLENCE. BLOOD PLAY. ]
𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘
once, in the midst of a winter storm, a child was born to a king and queen. his skin was pale as snow, his lips soft as rose petals, and his hair as dark as raven’s wings. and because of that night, and the storm that raged outside his first cries, he was named snow white.
the kingdom into which he was born was one of peace and generosity, ruled with kindness by his parents. snow grew amidst song and laughter, beloved by all who saw him. and in those bright days of boyhood, he found a companion in prince florian from a neighboring land. the boys became fast friends, bound by secrets whispered in castle corridors and bright laughter in the castle halls. together they formed a bond that seemed unshakable.
but joy is fragile and when snow was but ten, sorrow fell: his mother, the gentle queen, grew ill and passed from the world. the king, stricken with grief, opened his heart too quickly to a new suitor—a handsome nobleman named grimhilde who came visiting their kingdom from far away. for a short time it seemed as though light might return to the halls, until the king was murdered and grimhilde seized the throne for himself, ruling with cruelty and fear.
snow was spared his life, but stripped of his freedom. the boy-prince became little more than a servant in his own castle, watched and used like a pawn. for years he endured, comforted only by the secret letters he smuggled to florian, carried by faithful ravens. yet secrets do not last forever.
when snow was sixteen, grimhilde discovered the letters. enraged, he locked the boy away in the tower. and when the enchanted mirror whispered that the young prince had grown fairer than the king himself, jealousy turned to hatred. the huntsman was summoned to carve out snow’s heart.
but the huntsman, moved by pity and knowing of the kindness and grace in the young prince's heart, defied his orders. he let him go. snow fled and ran into the dark forest, a place of danger and despair. alone and lost, the boy wandered for days until the creatures of the wood guided him to a hidden cottage, home to seven dwarves, who took him in.
it was there, deep in the forest, that florian found him again some time later. reunited, the boys—now nearly men—saw in each other more than friendship. snow’s heart beat faster for him, though neither dared to speak the truth aloud, not when survival and the fate of kingdoms pressed heavier than longing. still, their bond grew—quiet, fierce and unshakable once more. florian taught snow to fight and together they defied the soldiers who came hunting.
at last, grimhilde came himself, cloaked in deception. disguised as the very man who stole the young prince's heart, he brought snow a gift: a single red apple. one bite and snow white fell as if dead.
he was laid in a coffin of glass and gold, crafted by the dwarves themselves. and when florian returned from seeking aid back home and the dwarves told him of the prince's fate, he wept. his grief was so deep, his kiss so true, that snow stirred once more, awakened by the power of true love.
together they rose. side by side, they fought on.
the war that followed lasted years. grimhilde’s power had spread far and deep, his sorcery rotting the land until the fields lay black and the rivers stilled. snow and florian were young and untested, yet they stood against him. and they were not alone: the creatures of the forest, the very life of the earth itself, rose to their side, as did the people of their once beautiful kingdom. wherever snow walked, flowers broke through ash and dying trees bent to shield him. slowly, painfully, they won back piece after piece of their home until grimhilde was cast down, exiled forever and his dark reign broken.
snow and florian rebuilt the kingdom, though it was a long road: years of patient tending, of coaxing life back into earth that had forgotten how to bloom. yet in time, green returned and hope with it. they ruled as one, their love no longer hidden.
and for a time, there was peace. for a time, there was love.
but fairy tales are cruel things. just as happily-ever-after settled over their lives, a curse fell upon the land.
nowadays, leopold weisshaupt spends his days tending to the animals of pellar town … the quiet veterinarian who seems to understand them better than most people understand themselves. he keeps to his practice during the day, the smell of hay and antiseptic mingling in the air, the soft padding of paws a constant companion … and he likes it that way. people stop by for care, but few pry into the man himself … and leopold prefers it that way. there is a gentleness in him, a steady patience that draws stray and frightened creatures alike … and something in the way he carries himself hints at a life lived with care, though no one would guess the echoes of a far grander story hidden just beneath the surface.
evenings and weekends find him at the shelter … bundled against the cold, making sure no animal is left outside with nowhere to go. he knows he carries a name that hints at richer heritage, something older and grander, but it feels wrong on his tongue … so wrong that he’s left the von behind. after all, he has never thought of himself as a prince, not really … simply leopold weisshaupt, a man trying to do good in a quiet town. and if, in the hush of the shelter, his gaze lingers a little too long on the sheriff with steady hands and watchful eyes … well, he tells himself it’s nothing. just the way one might be drawn to a familiar warmth in the middle of winter.









