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lantanasmuttyfanfics · 18 days

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can you write an evil queen and good king fluff pleasee

i love how you write them!

Heyyy boo boo!!!

Now I know you said fluff but I couldn’t resist adding a bit of angst with them so I hope you aren’t mad.

Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

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The evil queen would never admit how bothered and… insecure she would get when anyone doubted her relationship with the good king.

She would always hear whispers in the hallway, murmurs of people saying that the only reason someone like him would be with her is because she spelled him.

Those sort of words had her burning in anger, but a part of her did understand why they said what they said. Who could really believe that the Good king would date the evil queen out of free will.

But that was the reality, in fact she remembered the first time they met and talked. It during a stormy night were she was planning on cursing some potions in Baba Yagas classroom to chase mayhem.

But on the way she stumbled- literally- into the good king who was plagued with some sort of insomnia. After that they started to talk and see each other more and more until he asked her out.

At first she said no. How could she go out with a guy like him, but jealousy got the best of her when a certain princess started to show interest in him.

And so when they were alone on one of their usual meet ups, she pulled him in my his shirt and smooshed their lips together in a kiss so passionate that it took minutes to catch their breath.

Ever since then they’d been dating and having regular dates that he (with a lot of insistence) would always organize.

So here she was now, in her dorm late into the afternoon as she got ready to meet him for a “very special surprise” as he said that morning.

The evil queen was honestly embarrassed with the amount of effort she was putting into looking her best, but just because she was the destined evil queen didn’t mean that she couldn’t care about how she looked.

Little Red tho was finding highly amusing as she looked at her roommate fuss over which crown to wear. “Red. What do you think, purple mayhem or black soul?”

She switched the crowns on her head showing the one person she could honestly call a friend. Red rolled eyes fixing her hood “I think that he will not care and you’re going to be naked before either of you notice each other appearance.”

The evil queen waved her hand making Reds hood fly of her head before she picked the black crown up and adjusted it on her head.

Sighing she looked at the clock and just as she did a soft knock on the door rang about. She did a final once over before quickly opening the door to come face to face with the good king.

“You look gorgeous. As always.” She smirked and accepted the black dahlias he was holding. “Mhmm you don’t look like a troll anymore! Congratulations.”

He grinned at her as he softly leaned down and gave a peck to her cheek. The evil queen flushed and turns away as she put the flowers in the nearest vase she could find.

They didn’t say anything else to each other as she took his arm and followed him down to where he planned their date.

“Sweetheart before we get there you’re going to need to close your eyes.” She looked at him suspiciously but none the less closed them. Latching on to his arm as he led the way up some stairs.

As he lead them up, the good king started to doubt. What if she didn’t like her surprise? What if she thought it was to… princessey?

He shook his head and let out a deep breath before he positioned her in front of him and opened the door. “Look around sweetheart.”

She held in a gasp of awe as she saw the once astronomy tower now turned into something out of a wicked fairytale. Black candles with purple flames light the room along with the shine of the crescent moon.

On the ground lay a deep amethyst blanket filled with a basket of what looked to be her favorite deserts. She would never admit it, but she did have a sweet tooth for a destined evil queen.

Sometimes she even thought befriending the witch from Hansel and Gretals stories just so she could steal the treats that she made.

Next to the blanket was also two small poofs with fine silver embroidery of small crowns and vines interwoven with them.

The good king stared at her for a long time analyzing her expression as she took in the scenery before her. He held his breath as she turned to him with a glint in her eyes.

“My my… you really have outdone yourself.” The evil queen wrapped her arms around his neck as she fluttered her eyes up at him. He gulped laughing awkwardly as he refrained from looking at her.

“You don’t think this is to much?” Her only response was to raise one of her sculpted brows up at him as she gestured to herself.

“Nothing is too much for me.” He chuckled at her words but still sighed out in relief as he lead them to the poofs.

Ever the gentleman he offered his hand for her to sit and very uncharacteristically she accepted. Maybe it was because he had weaseled a soft spot in her heart. But she’d never admit that.

The good king soon sat beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he started to pour some berry drink into two glasses.

The small talk and ease of conversation flowed out naturally between them, as if it was their destines to be together. Even tho he was the good king and she the evil queen.

Two complete opposites that had against all odds… fallen in love with each other.

The thought made the evil queen pause and turn to look at his handsome face. With bright eyes and smile to match.

As he noticed her staring he gave her a oh so charming smile, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. The expression had her pause again and her insecurities to consume her.

The good king noticed her sudden change in attitude almost immediately, having being tuned into her emotions since before they started dating.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He tucked a lose peace of hair behind her ear, at the action she nearly jerked back but refrained at the last moment.

“… do you think we’re to different?” She didn’t know what prompted her to open up in the first place. Maybe she was loosing herself in him. He gave her a questioning look, not being able to wrap around in his mind what she was saying.

He couldn’t. Not when she was this captivating in the glow of purple flames.

“I just- I’m supposed to be the evil queen. You’re supposed to the good king. We don’t make sense.” Everyone was right. She wanted to say the last part out loud but something prevented her.

The good king was now very much confused. Maybe it was because none dared to let him hear the gossip and rumors about him and the evil queen. But he just couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“Sweetheart l don’t care what we’re supposed to be. If it’s true love then that’s all that matters. Where did you even get these ideas?”

The evil queen shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. “True love… yes true love that means that there is a princess out there that is meant to be your good queen.”

He froze at her words his chest tightening in pain. “Even if there was such a princess. I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you.” He tried to grab her hands but she pulled away.

“But that doesn’t matter at the end of the day right? Because after graduation I’m going to poison Snow White and your going to rule as the good king. You can’t have the evil queen by your side to do that.”

He gripped his hair in frustration before standing up and pacing around. Silence filled the room and the evil queen thought that he had finally come to realize what she meant.

But then he suddenly shouted “fuck destines and fuck tradition! I’m in love with you and if my future subjects can’t accept that then… then I’ll write my own destiny!”

The evil queen couldn’t hold back her shock at his outburst. “You don’t understand sweetheart. You are the only one for me and you always will be. Even if you poison Snow White and try world domination.”

Against everything that the evil queen had learnt in her life she started to cry. She wasn’t crying because she was sad or angry, she was crying because she couldn’t believe what was happening.

She always thought that one day he would wake up and realize how different they were. How little sense they made, how fucked up this was. But here he was wearing his heart out for all to see.

The good king fell to his knees as his saw the unshakable evil queen sobbing in her hands. His mind was reeling, he couldn’t believe himself. How could he cause her to cry? How him who he proclaimed as her true love and not all those other people that hated her just for her destiny.

“Sweetheart I’m so sor-.” She cut him off as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her face nuzzling into him as she sniffled.

They stayed like that for a while, comforting each other in the only way they knew. And as the minutes ticked by the evil queen started to think.

Maybe she could accept love in her life. If only it was for him.

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As always I hope I delivered what you asked for!!

Now I know where Raven got her ‘write my own destiny’ shit if her dad is willing to do so for her mother.

In all honesty tho, I do wish we saw him at some point in EAH episodes or specials. I think it was such a waisted opportunity to bring him in for the dragon games

Anyway what do you guys think about me writing a little red x big bad wolf fic??

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harperaccount · 4 months

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The ship that i WILL DIE FOR

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hatrakdominikaa · 4 months

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#eah #snow white x evil queen #ever after high snow white and evil queen #class of classics #Linow

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ibrithir-was-here · 8 months

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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

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oautincorrectquotes · 4 months

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Snow: Hey Regina, would you slap your best friend in the face for a million dollars?

Regina: I would punch you in the face for free.

Snow, on the verge of tears: I’m your best friend?!

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athena-xox · 3 months

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Most unhealthiest ship in your opinion

EQ and Snow easily

I love the idea of them, and them in class of classics is just top tier but do not tell me they would be healthy

They’re like bribelle mixed with rapple but 10x more toxic and chaotic.

Also unrelated but kind of related, I feel it doesn’t make sense for it to be girls playing the dragon games, especially in snow/EQ’s time.

I think it’s because the narrative got changed to girl power, but snow would not see dragon games as lady like.

But the fact that Snow recognized EQ by her eyebrows- adorable.

They are SO toxic lesbian exes.

#the evil queen #evil queen #snow white #eah snow white #eah evil queen #ever after high #eah #eq #snow x EQ

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artzychic27 · 5 months

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Something I’ve always wondered was how did King Marc and Nath of Hearts meet? I just love this couple so much-

Once Upon A Time…

On the night of a crescent moon, shaped like the smile of the Cheshire Cat, in the magical and quite odd, yet wonderous kingdom of Wonderland, the King and Queen of Hearts were blessed with a darling young Prince they named, Nathaniel. They showered their son with so much love and affection, doted on him every few seconds, and yet… Their praise and adoration for the young Prince of Hearts didn’t have the effect they expected.

Whenever given a knife at dinner, he’d nearly stabbed one of the servers. The Card Guards swore they had seen a gleeful look in his eyes when the King mentioned executing a traitor. The most gruesome of jokes only seemed to get a laugh out of the redhead.

The King and Queen were in denial for so long. They knew Nathaniel could be a bit of a wild card, but they were certain he’d grow out of it. He’d be their sweet Prince of Hearts, learn how to run the Kingdom when the time came, and stop treating the croquet hedgehogs better than he treats others.

Thirteen years had passed. Nathaniel’s violent tendencies have not vanished, and the King and Queen could no longer deny that. What had been concerning them the most lately was their son’s recent fascination with weapons, specifically swords, axes, and daggers. He would never go anywhere without his favorite dagger, explaining, “I would lose the element of surprise if I had an ax or sword strapped to my back, now wouldn’t I?”

The Kingdom was growing wary. They refused to have such a… A mad young man grow up to become their King. And yet, no one dared to speak out against the Prince of Hearts, not unless they would like to feel the cool steel of his dagger pressed against their necks. The King and Queen of Hearts also dreaded the day he would come of age and rise to power, most likely ruling Wonderland with an iron fist and executing all those who defied his rules, all 613 of what he had already written so far. They aren’t sure what more they can do at this point. Nothing could calm Nathaniel down apart from Tea Time and when he spent time with the hedgehogs. And even those weren’t enough to cool his infamous temper.

But, the more they thought it over, the King and Queen of Hearts wondered if maybe, just maybe, if instead of something, their Prince needed someone to quell his behavior. All it would take was the right connection with another young Royal or anyone really to divert his attention towards… Other interests.

With that in mind, a ball was thrown. All eligible Royals around the age of the Prince of Hearts were in attendance, yet, none were willing to even make eye contact with the dreaded Mad Prince of Wonderland. It would appear that the rumors spread to other Kingdoms, not that Nathaniel cared. The thought of ever co-ruling his future Kingdom sickened him. He’s not one to compromise. All ways are his way, and it will stay that way.

When his parents informed him prior to the ball that they would be finding suitors for him, Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to finally have their heads in his grasp. While they have done so much for him over the years, it was about time for a new ruler to take control of Wonderland and command the respect of all. But, he couldn’t exactly become King until he turned eighteen or his parents died. And he refused to wait five more years. But it just never seemed like the right moment to behead them. Usurping the throne was a fine reason, but he craved more than that. He was just unsure of what, but it needed to be the reason that really drove him to behead those kindhearted fools.

Having grown bored of the ball, the Prince of Hearts was about to make his way into the rose garden when his parents called him over. He scowled at the sight of their delighted faces. What could they possibly be so thrilled about? And then he saw… Him. The sickingly sweet Prince of a neighboring Kingdom, Emani White. Unlike the rest of the cowardly royals, he was not deterred by the behavior of the Prince of Hearts and believed he was… Kind deep down. Well, if the guards hadn’t confiscated his dagger, he would have beheaded the fool then and there. And if not for acting so familiar and having the audacity to rest a hand on his shoulder, then for attracting those verminous doves with that high-pitched warbling.

If the King and Queen of Hearts believed such a miserable excuse for a Prince would deter him from succeeding them before he turned eighteen, then they were positively… Mad. But, he enjoyed a game or two, so he played along, whisked the ditzy young Prince away into the hedge maze, and allowed his parents to believe Emani could be the one to “calm his temper.”

How he regretted it when the damned Prince just would not shut up about the forest, his animal friends, the dwarves he had met, or his step-cousin! Still, Nathaniel remained cordial and resisted every urge in his body to strangle Emani. After all, killing someone with your bare hands is simply uncouth and barbaric, and he would not stoop to such levels, no matter how much Emani irritated him.

However, it seemed he would consider when the heathen dared to pick up and hold one of his hedgehogs. Everyone in the Kingdom knew Rule #47: Never hold a hedgehog belonging to the Prince of Hearts. Well, all but Emani. But, Nathaniel was more than happy to teach him the consequences of such a felony. He ripped one of the vines off of the hedges and checked to make sure it was sturdy. Before he could go through with his act, though, a lone figure emerged from the shadows and sent a chill down Emani's spine. The coward backed away as the figure made themself known under the glow of the moonlight. Nathaniel felt his heart stop. There, standing before him had to be the most breathtaking vision of beauty to ever grace his Kingdom.

His eyes were a toxic green and his lips were painted a beautiful blood-red.

So stupefied, the Prince of Hearts didn't flinch when the newcomer whipped out a dagger. He stalked toward Emani White with a sinister smile. "Emani," he crooned. "My dear, naive cousin; I believe I instructed you not to leave my sight."

Emani murmured several apologies, but the green-eyed newcomer only held the dagger closer to him. "Off you go, now," he said as if speaking to a child. "We will discuss your punishment afterward."

"Y... Yes, Marc; I apologize." Setting the hedgehog down, Emani scurries out of the hedge maze. Though, the Prince of Hearts is certain it will be hours before he finds his way out. Immediately, he turns his attention to... Marc, and once again finds himself captivated by his poison green eyes. He wanted him and only him, and not one of those pathetic excuses for royals his parents had lined up for him.

All he wanted was his Poison Prince. And he'll have him by any means necessary...

The End

@msweebyness @imsparky2002

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #class of villainy #queen of hearts #evil queen #snow white and the seven dwarfs #alice in wonderland #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #answered ask #ask me stuff #mlb au #marc x nathaniel #disney #disney villains

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