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singsweetmelodies · 3 months

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Piarles Winter Fic Exchange 2023/24 - The Final Round-Up

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After three months of build-up and two weeks of spectacular fic reveals, the Piarles Winter Fic Exchange 2023/24 has finally drawn to its close 💙 Today, it is my honour and pleasure to share with you the results of all of our efforts: an astounding 478 616 words written over the course of twenty-eight brand-new Piarles fics. 🎉

We want to start by saying a MASSIVE thank you to all our incredible creators. You are all so wonderful and so so talented - it has been a delight and a privilege to spend the last few months with you. To laugh with you and to create with you and to share the Piarles joy with you. You are all phenomenal, and we feel so lucky that you chose to spend this time with us. ❤️

I also want to take this opportunity to say a personal thank you to my amazing mod team: @boxboxbrioche, @welightitup, @duquesademiel, @wolfiemcwolferson and @river-ocean. Moderating this exchange with you has been a slightly crazy rollercoaster ride, but I couldn't have asked for better people by my side throughout it. Thank you all, for everything!!

Below the cut we have the final round-up of all our 2023/24 Piarles Winter Fic Exchange gift fics. You are in for a real treat - enjoy!!! And don't forget to show the authors some love in the form of kudos, comments, bookmarks and tumblr reblogs 💘

Thank you all so much again.

Love and kisses,

Katie, Briony, Tia, Sol, Logan & River ❤️💙

you and me were raised in the same part of town by @wolfiemcwolferson | rated M | 11.6k words | tumblr post here

A story of two best friends told through the years in the setting of Charles' childhood treehouse.

damage, destruction by @pinkierre | rated T | 6.7k words | tumblr post here

Pierre Gasly doesn’t win the 2016 GP2 title, and thus he stays in the category for another year with Prema. He’s joined for the 2017 F2 season by his long time best friend and fresh GP3 champion Charles Leclerc. What starts as a dream come true, quickly turns into a nightmare. Fast forward 8 years later and they’re teammates again. At Ferrari F1 team. However this time, they hate each other. How will they cope?

Chasing What’s on the Other Side by @espithewarlock | rated E | 15.8k words | tumblr post here

A Mafia AU where Pierre is immediately obsessed with Charles, the newly-introduced romantic partner of his biggest rival, Carlos. He begins dangerously pursuing Charles, they fall into bed together, and his obsession only gets more real the more he learns about Charles’ history. Meanwhile, Pierre is also trying to keep his business running and figure out exactly what his rivals are plotting. There’s something simmering, and he does not like having a target on his back.

model behaviour by @your-littlesecret | rated T | 8k words

Charles isn't sure what he should be doing here - he is not proud to admit he completely zoned out as Camille was explaining - but the gorgeous guy is just standing there and Charles says fuck it and walks to him, extending a hand. "Hi" "Hello. I am Pierre." His smile is almost blinding and Charles feels like he's never seen someone as beautiful in his whole life - which is very fitting, considering he is a model.

change my mind by @chaesonghwas | rated M | 31.8k words | tumblr post here

When Lance drags him to a Drama Club meeting, Pierre doesn't expect to stay for long, but he meets Charles, brother to one of his fraternity's new pledges, and he decide to give it a chance. After all, Charles seems interested in him too - what could go wrong?

Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You by @crimsonicarus | rated T | 2k words

It was easy with Charles, talking, spending time, being silent. It felt natural, like breathing. Laughing at his awful jokes came from his mouth effortlessly, like another mother tongue.

five january seconds by @fenesacha | rated E | 8.9k words

Charles' phone is on the counter between them, and Pierre reaches out to tap the screen, waking the device up. He spares one second to look at Charles’ new background, a photo of the two of them in their Christmas jumpers, before he glances at the date. There, not changing no matter how many times he blinks: Tuesday, 2 January. What the fuck.

falling Inn love (five years later) by @gaslybottoms | rated T | 17.5k words

“American style holiday inn,” Lando reads from the description, squinting at the small font on the screen. “Family owned and run for the last three generations, the All Pine Inn is located deep in the heart of the South Downs, with picturesque views over the rolling hills of the local area. A step back from city life, the local village is a peaceful respite away from the busy day to day. See Charles, it seems perfect." OR Charles takes a trip to the country for the Christmas holidays, and rekindles an old almost romance along the way.

All The Pebbles Along The Way by @shankyspork | rated M | 17k words

Centering around friendship and grief, this fic takes the slow road through life and its meaningful moments, hoping to bring you to the conclusion that belonging is something innate.

all I ever wanted by @golden-fairylights | Not Rated | 8.4k words

When Charles received the email that Prince Pierre would attend his vernissage, he didn't know that by the end of the night, he would have found his soulmate.

Anything you can do, I can do better by @whatdidwejustdo | rated T | 2k words

In which Pierre and Charles are insufferably competitive mechanics for rival F1 teams (Red Bull vs Ferrari) and their friends (Carlos, Alex, and Yuki) suffer. Endless snark, friendship, and references to decades of F1 lore. Or: "Well.” Pierre’s eyes were sharp and blue. "Have you ever re-assembled Max Verstappen's car in twenty minutes when it was supposed to take forty, and watched him put together a hot lap in the dying seconds of Q2 to make it into Q3 and take pole?"

let's be what we are by @hourcat | rated E | 46.1k words | tumblr post here

Some weekends go better than others, and the only time Charles sees his best friend is at the post-race afterparties that the bigger teams throw. They’ll clink bottles of gross tasting beer and chat with one of the other drivers relegated off to the side this season, and it feels like they’re the karting kids again. Some weekends, though, Pierre is draped along Charles’ back, all but welded together after an early spin-out ended his day, and Pierre will give him what he needs—what they need. (or: pierre, charles, and the consequences of a lifetime of touch.)

Can I just be in my head with you? by @chipsandnuggets | rated T | 7k words

"Pierrot,” he mumbles without thinking, while he separates for a moment from Pierre, but still keeps some closeness. “Can I have you? At least in my head? Can I have you like this, every time I want, in my head?” 5 times Pierre and Charles desire something plus one they finally do something about it.

Le Cheval Cabré by @moonlight0starlighte | rated G | 24.3k words

Charles, a tortured Michelin star chef, returns home for his father’s passing and discovers the family restaurant has been left to him. Though his grief feels stifling at times, Pierre, his oldest friend, is the light that guides him through it all.

Job 37:6 by @mysticalbreadcollective | rated E | 8.3k words

Maybe he can pass it off as a drunken hookup. A one-time thing. They can both forget it ever happened and move on. Pierre doesn’t need to remember Charles whining and panting beneath him. He can bury it down with the piece of his heart that Charles owns always.

take my hand (put yours over my heart) by @duquesademiel | rated T | 37.7k words | tumblr post here

Pierre Gasly has been declared Public Enemy Number One after breaking Charles’ best friend’s heart. Which, honestly, makes working in their charity work together just a little bit too awkward. A Christmas box, a lot of charity work, football matches and flower crowns might change Pierre’s status in Charles’ books - with a little dash of fake dating, of course.

hearts in the byline by @ilspredestinato | rated M | 25.6k words | tumblr post here

“You know,” Frédéric’s hands are crossed in front of him, fingertips tightening after every pause, “there is only one thing that brings stability to a Kingdom without it being a marriage.” Charles draws in a sharp breath—he knows, nodding almost imperceptibly once Frédéric falls into a hesitant silence. A courtship.

The Defenders by @justahappycloud | rated G | 30k words | tumblr post here

You showed me colours I can't see with anyone else by @radiocheck | rated E | 9.5k words | tumblr post here

Metropolis, a city for all kinds of people: good people, bad people, and people with special abilities. Pierre, alias Blue Arrow, considers himself a special person. With the ability to fly like a bird and bend the toughest of materials at his will, he has decided to use these gifts to protect the city he loves. But what happens when a new threat arises that could destroy everything he'd ever loved? To prevent this, Pierre joins a group of other three heroes and an unlikely ally so that they can maybe, hopefully, save Metropolis from the claws of this new powerful villain.

“I really thought you didn’t like me, you know,” Pierre muses. “You were always so… defensive.” Charles smiles thoughtfully. There are small dimples in his cheeks and his hair falls softly over his forehead as he glances down at the table before replying. “It was never that. I think I was afraid I would like you too much, if I let myself.” In which Pierre falls for his roommate's best friend, Lando is never where he's supposed to be, and Charles is a dream in technicolour.

show me who made you walk all the way here by @yukierres | rated M | 36.5k words | tumblr post here

Pierre is being blackmailed by a former lover into coming out, but risks losing his seat at Ferrari if he does. Charles is a prince who is forbidden from coming out until he has a long-term partner. The solution seems so obvious. Pretending shouldn't be that hard, right? Right?

still waking every morning (but it's not with you) by @river-ocean | rated T | 6.5k words

Charles loves being an actor. It’s what he has always felt was born to do. But he hates that it means that he has to spend so many days of the year away from the people he loves the most. He hates that even though he technically lives with his boyfriend, he is still in a de facto long-distance relationship most of the time.

anything, everything by @leclercenjoyer | rated E | 5.8k words | tumblr post here

Pierre and Charles go on a ski trip together, and things don't exactly go as planned. (Or do they?)

They Will Never Know by @effervescentdragon | rated M | 35.3k words | tumblr post here

Most stories are about blood. This story is not an exception. Charles disappeared. As for Pierre, well. Pierre had a very big secret.

Point Non Plus by @boxboxbrioche | rated E | 22.7k words | tumblr post here

brought to Point Non Plus idiom, commonly used in the Regency era 1. to be brought to a situation with no other options. 2. to baffle or confuse someone to the point that they have nothing to say. or: with his reputation in ruins and his options limited, Charles receives an offer from Lord Pierre Gasly that he simply cannot refuse.

like a heart made of dynamite by @vicsy | rated E | 31k words

Maybe all these years they were coming towards each other like a car crash in slow motion. Charles just had to wait for the brakes to fail.

and i long for you to appear by @singsweetmelodies / 17.5k | rated T | tumblr post here

When now-famous actor Pierre Gasly gets himself into a bit of PR trouble, it's up to his childhood best friend to step in and save the day. Thankfully, Charles is an expert public relations manager... the only question is if he'll be able to stop his feelings getting in the way when he finally sees Pierre again after all these years.

hold me in this wild, wild world by @fenesacha & @gaslybottoms | rated T | 2k words

Cross-country skiing isn't Pierre's forte. While he managed to stay upright during their earlier outing, it's done little to shake off his aversion to the sport that Charles seems to love so much - or, rather, his aversion to winter as a whole.

#piarles winter fic exchange 2023/24 #piarles winter fic exchange #pwfe 2023/24 #piarles fic #10 x 16 #❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank you SO much for another amazing winter fic exchange!!!!#see you all next year? 👀❤️

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heartvisor · 6 months

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#gavasmall............................................#i like it so much...#thank you blazar (and original ultraman)!!! for another weird small creature this year!!!!#by the by the most recent episode was a script from mister nakano! if you were curious!#ultrablblog #krtext

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hella1975 · 7 months

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hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

#seriously another shout out to my mutuals #id particularly like to say thank you to boom who's always right there for me no matter what's happening or how insane im being #and also everyone in our little discord that wound up having to make a whole new channel for venting #bc i was there so often like 'today's weird ask isssss.... telling me about my cupsize!! rip them to shreds!!!'#hannah and theo especially being there and pushing me to finally turn off anon. war is truly over #and of course rori bc the shamelessness u show when hating on my anon asks has been genuinely really cathartic #sometimes u really do just need a rottweiler mutual to tell random people online to kill themselves 😭#okay weird oscar acceptance speechcore gratitude over. i do just rlly love my mutuals #like i went three years not telling anyone about the worse side of internet popularity for fear of looking spoiled and ungrateful #so for the first time to open up about it and be met with outrage on my behalf and people saying in fact it's MORE fucked up #than i initially realised bc ive grown desensitised to it is. yeah cathartic i guess #they are singlehandedly reassuring me of the good this cursed app still holds #so everyone thank them and send them flowers NOW #okay im done i think. see you guys soon. i truly do want to come back asap bc like i said i NEVER EVEN WANTED TO FUCKING LEAVE #SOME ASSHOLES JUST HAD TO PUT GRENADES ON WHAT I ASSUMED WERE VERY UNIVERSAL AND OBVIOUS BOUNDARIES #if you're reading this like 'ohhh fuck i defo sent something invasive lately. i thought it was a joke/we were friends'#then 1) we arent friends if you're on anon. it immediately creates a power imbalance where you know me and any necessary context #but i have no idea who you are or how much you know about me. that's already a fucked dynamic #and 2) I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD. LIKE GENUINELY I HOPE YOU FEEL AWFUL AND HAVE A GOOD LONG LOOK AT YOURSELF #okay i think that's all. ta-ra lads??? how tf do u end something like this #ive queued this to reblog a couple more times throughout the day

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welcometomyoasis · 4 months

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end of year appreciation post

this year has been an emotional rollercoaster, but i wouldn't change a thing because i found svt and all of you 💕

sending a huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who interact with my posts. whether you follow my blog, like, reblog, send asks, or leave comments, just know i appreciate every single one of you.

as for my moots. thank you all for the laughs and interactions. i love you all so so much. so to express my appreciation, here's a list of which svt member i think you all would be because what fun is being carat if we can't do things like this.

@brownsugarbaybee Kari as seungcheol. Need I say more? In the way that seungcheol is the naturally protective alpha who babies his members, you do the same for me. You’re like the older sister I never had. You make me feel so safe, protected, and loved when I talk to you. I’m really socially awkward irl and am actually always afraid that I’ll say the wrong things, but with you, you never make me feel bad for sending too many asks, or spamming you through dms. You really create a safe environment for your followers and friends and I cannot thank you or express my gratitude enough for that. You were the first person i talked to ever (on anon) on tumblr and our friendship just grew from there. I love how we check in on each other frequently and randomly pop into each other’s asks just to say we missed each other. I’m always so happy when i see that you’ve sent me an ask/ dm. We’re like two magnets that can’t stay away from each other. I love that so much. Just like I love you. Here’s to a lot more love and interactions next year! (and yes, i’m dming you more mushy stuff later shhhh) 🤭

@wonijinjin Gigi as joshua. You're my actual other half? My soul sister? Like you notice there's no jeonghan on this list because you're my evil, lovable twin (okay you knew there was no jeonghan I texted you about this a month ago). FR THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN US? From our bias lists, our need for perfectionism, our food cravings, us getting distracted all the time when we’re supposed to be doing work, to even the fact that we have the same frame for our glasses and hair colours. I could go on. Joshua suddenly appeared in my life and took over when i saw him in the anyone special video, kind of like the way you popped into my dms. We’ve literally talked everyday since then. All your messages, your words of encouragement, your comforting words, the random things we talk about (like the tote bag dilemma? Or all the possible collabs we could work on? OR ALL OUR TALKS ON SHUA AND HIS HANDS). I want you to know that I truly treasure each and every single one of our conversations. You’re one of my comfort people. Thank you for popping into my life because I cannot imagine my life without you rn. Yes, I’m not done but this is already very long so expect a lot of love coming your way in your dms. ILYSM SERIOUSLY. PLEASE LET’S MAKE THE SHU X GIGI MEETUP HAPPEN ONE DAY BUT NOT IN THE MIDDLE IT’S TOO DANGEROUS.

@haecien Cien as junhui. My timezone buddy. Like Junhui, you’re crazy and incredibly fun to be around. I’m not going to lie, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you spiral into loving new things and new groups. Sure, it’s entertaining, and I found it really endearing. I absolutely adore how you fall for other groups so quickly and how you’re so open about falling for them. You’re not afraid to go all out and show your affections towards them. You love with all your heart and that’s such a great quality to have. Your fics are super adorable and you were literally a trend setter because so many people followed your prompt generator idea. Junhui has the ability to be adored by everyone and you have that same effect on people.

@weird-bookworm Sky as soonyoung. Extremely easily excitable babies who always bully mingyu (see Zanna’s part). You get so happy and excited over all the little things. Your tags when you reblog posts gives me life because they’re always so funny and sweet. Not to mention, you have this bright energy around you that draws people to you. You’re so easy to love and interact with. Seriously, you’ve made such a big impact on everyone’s lives here on tumblr whether you know it or not. You might be the glue that is holding the mess that is tumblr together rn. Yea, you also give off major squishy vibes like Soonyoung, it makes me want to protect you more. With consent, i would love to mush your cheeks together and give you so many hugs. Love you Sky.

@woozvc-main Nora as soonyoung as well. In the short span of time that we've interacted, you really remind me of soonyoung and sky haha. You're easily excitable, you're funny, you're honest, you're great at writing your fics (like how soonyoung is great at dancing). You're so real when writing your little thoughts out on tumblr. You're so smart too? Like you're doing physics? And you randomly do math when you're bored? It's like when soonyoung randomly does little dances when he's bored or excited. Plus, you love pandas like soonyoung loves tigers! Okay, maybe not as extreme as that, but you get the point. We're both panda lovers. Why did we take so long to talk, I have no idea. But I love that we are talking now and here's to talking more in the coming year!!

@babyleostuff Natalia as Jihoon. You both write masterpieces. I think I’ve read through your masterlist a couple of times at this point. The way you manage to convey everyone’s personalities and emotions perfectly is amazing. More seriously though, you were one of the first people I approached on tumblr. Thank you for giving me advice before on how to start writing because it really helped a lot. Your advice was one of the reasons why I even started in the first place. You were also my first official moot on tumblr. I sincerely hope that life will treat you kindly, that you’re doing better, and that the next year will go smoothly for you.

@addicsvt Ari as dokyeom. Literal balls of sunshine?? Idk when I talk to you I can just imagine you smiling in the same adorable way that dokyeom does, with his eyes curled up into crescent moons. I hope you never stop writing because your fics are lovely. I really like the way you write! It’s so fluffy, and it makes me feel all warm and cozy. Your mood boards are also amazing!!! You’re seriously such a sweet angel. I can’t thank you enough for loving my writing, you have no idea how much that means to me. Love you and let’s talk more!

@fairyhaos Yena as dokyeom. Yena = a huge reason as to why I started writing in the first place. Yena = one of the first people I ever messaged on tumblr. Yena = ray of sunshine. Yena = one of the best fic authors on tumblr. You just remind me of Dokyeom so much maybe because you're both so in love with Joshua because you're both the happy angels of the group who find so much joy in simple things like Joshua, being around your friends, doing what you love, watching the pretty scenery around you, and you're so musically inclined? You also have this maturity about you that Dokyeom has? Like you know when to be serious and when to have fun which is such a great quality to have. Keep being you!! You'll do great in your upcoming exams!! Thank you for being such a kind person because the world needs more people like that. The only thing, you call Joshua a Shuamoroll. And now I call cinnamoroll that too...

@idubiluv Arya as minghao. Artist duo. I know we haven’t actually talked much but I do know that you love photography and art. I also don’t exactly know why, but I associate you with having this very calming, chill energy that is similar to minghao’s. Perhaps it’s the comfort that your fics give me when I read them? Maybe it’s because you’re so sweet, attentive, and supportive of everyone? Whatever it is, thank you for being my moot and I hope we can talk more in the future!

@slytherinshua Zanna as mingyu. HMMM WHERE DO I BEGIN FOR YOU ZANNA. You’re both always bullied affectionately. You’re both social butterflies. You’re literally everywhere on tumblr in this fandom and that fandom. Idk how you do it because you stan so many groups, write for so many groups, manage both caratsland and the kdrama label, etc. It’s definitely a talent. You’re also one of the sweetest people ever. Like you’re so happy to talk to anyone about anything and everything under the sun. It’s really cute, so please never stop. ONE THING THOUGH. Like mingyu, i feel like you’re always up late… i know timezones are a thing but PLEASE GO SLEEP EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE???? Seriously, i cannot count how many times i've seen "please sleep" on your posts and in the group chats... 🤣

@wheeboo Rania as seungkwan. My fellow criminal minds enthusiast, angst, and purple colour lover. I’ve never actually known anyone else who loves criminal minds so this is a really big deal for me. ANYWAY. I’m not just associating you with seungkwan because he’s your bias, though that is one reason. Seungkwan has this warm, inviting, witty, very accepting personality that is similar to yours. Idk if this makes sense but you write the way Seungkwan hosts. You’re fics are very cozy (even the angsty ones). You develop the stories so well. You put in splashes of humour or fluff, all while still keeping the readers in suspense until the moment is just right for everything to unravel. You’re also always so open when replying asks and responding to feedback on your posts. Plus you want to be a therapist one day? You’re seriously the best and the sweetest. You’ll do great. I’m extremely sure of it. Let's write more angst too!!

@askdacast Askdacast as vernon. LISTEN. YES I'M TAGGING YOU IN A SEVENTEEN POST, NO WE AREN’T MOOTS ON TUMBLR BUT WE ARE IRL SO HEAR ME OUT. Vernon is that one quirky member who does the weirdest things and embraces his quirkiness to the fullest extent. He just does what he wants, when he wants. At the same time, he's such a lovable guy who is adored by everyone around him. That's you. I've always admired your ability to just embrace being yourself even if you do face your own demons. You deserve everything that you've achieved and I'm so proud of you. I'll send you all the other sappy stuff privately... and let's go out to you know where. i mean we just discussed it yesterday? ALSO I HAVE TO PASS YOU YOUR PRESENT HHEEHEHE. BUT JUST KNOW THIS IS MY PUBLIC DECLARATION OF LOVE FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR BEING MY IRL FRIEND FOR WHAT 6 YEARS NOW? ❤️

@mangocustard16 Mango as Dino. Honestly, I just got to know you last month but you’ve been such a joy to be around. You’re constantly putting out 11/10 content and reblogging stuff. Your incorrect quotes are hilarious. Your fics are so fluffy I want to melt in them. Your reblogs, especially the reblog chains you have with other people are so funny. You have a great sense of humour and you give this vibe that you’re just so happy to be here. I’m happy to have gotten to know you!

@eightlightstar Vittoria as Dino. We've only really talked once since we just became moots. I guess in that interaction I get Dino vibes from you? You're my fellow grad student who seems wise beyond her years just like Dino. You want to be a professor and get your PhD too! Dino is ambitious and that's how I would see you. You're going to do great! Let's talk more soon!

@glosskirt Gloss. If I were to liken you to a svt member, I would say you're a little like jun because you remind me of cien and you're kind of unhinged as well from what I've seen. But you're more of a bts stan. So, I'm doing this specially for you. My bts stan days were years ago, but I'm going to say that you remind me of Jhope. Happy, hopeful, sunshines of the group who are really funny. You care so much for others and you're so happy to interact with other people. Idk I saw your post about moving out of your lonely kpop phase and that made me feel something? Because I felt that way too after starting tumblr. I'm so glad we found each other through tumblr, and I hope we can interact more next year!

As for the rest of my moots, I'm sorry that we haven't interacted much. Sorry if you didn't want to be tagged. Here's just my little ramble for all of you because I'm still so thankful that we're moots and I would love to interact with you all more next year!

@amxlia-stars Amelia as Mingyu. You give me puppy like vibes and you just genuinely seem to be enjoying yourself here. Thank you for always liking my posts, it means a lot to me!

@mirxzii Roxie as Soonyoung. Idk the post of you horanghaeing in a museum really stuck with me haha. You're really nice and the aesthetic of your account is so sweet! Sorry that I haven't reached out much. Thank you for reblogging my work, I really appreciate it!

@icyminghao Noelle as Jihoon. Your posts are so so good? The way you write is so amazing. Actually I think your posts were some of the first I ever saw when I first started reading fics on tblr. It made me all giggly and happy. Major serotonin boost when I read them.

@aaniag Aania as Vernon. We haven't interacted much, but you remind me of Vernon because you can get very excitable and you're also really random? Like sometimes I see a huge wall of pictures on Sky's account from you. You're really nice and sociable too!

@staranghae Cherry as Seungkwan. I see you popping up everywhere to send those cute chain messages to everyone. You seem really sociable and fun! We just became moots so i'm sorry idk what else to say, but thanks for being here!

@seokminded Artai, @hrts4hanniehae Sadako, and @ryuwonieebae Ryuwon. I'm sorry to group you all together since I really don't know much about all of you at all. Hmm, I guess you all remind me of Vernon and Dino in some ways. I love the aesthetics of all your accounts. I mean that's the point of tumblr because we can express ourselves here. But your accounts and the things you all write just seem like you? Thanks for being my moots! Let's interact more in the future!

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rahabs · 2 months

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This Horror Which Bleeds [ read on A03 ]

He'd known, realistically, that Lilith was gone, and that she'd no intention of coming back. The knowledge didn't make Lucifer anymore prepared to find her mark engraved on the Radio Demon's soul.

Charlie asks her father to check in with Alastor after the hotel's reconstruction. In the process, Lucifer makes a discovery, and things get worse before they get better.

#radioapple #appleradio #Lucifer Morningstar #Alastor #Hazbin Hotel Alastor #Hazbin Hotel Lucifer #This fandom missed the opportunity to call this ship 'radiostar' truly #Anyway I meant to make and post this AGES ago when I first released the fic back in February #But I travelled to the USA for my best friend's wedding and then was busy writing other fics when I came back/getting back to work #In the interim I have been FLOORED by everyone's response to it? Like?#15+ years of writing fanfiction and I have never in my life gotten such a response so thank you SO SO MUCH everyone!#Please accept this little moodboard that I made for it #And by popular demand I WILL be continuing this fic. I think I finally have a little outline for at least another chapter or two!#(Or three or four or etc.)#my fics

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confetti-cat · 2 months

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Twelve, Thirteen, and One

Words: 6k

Rating: G

Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love

(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling Challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A Cinderella retelling feat. curious critters and a lot of friendship.)

When the clock chimes midnight on that third evening, thirteen creatures look to the girl who showed them all kindness.

—

It’s hours after dark, again, and the human girl still sleeps in the ashes.

The mice notice this—though it happens so often that they’ve ceased to pay attention to her. She smells like everything else in the hearth: ashy and overworked, tinged with the faint smell of herbs from the kitchen.

When she moves or shifts in her sleep (uncomfortable sleep—even they can sense the exhaustion in her posture as she sits slumped against the wall, more willing to seep up warmth from the stone than lie cold elsewhere this time of year), they simply scurry around her and continue combing for crumbs and seeds. They’d found a feast of lentils scattered about once, and many other times, the girl had beckoned them softly to her hand, where she’d held a little chunk of brown bread.

Tonight, she has nothing. They don’t mind—though three of them still come to sniff her limp hand where it lies drooped against the side of her tattered dress.

A fourth one places a little clawed hand on the side of her finger, leaning over it to investigate her palm for any sign of food.

When she stirs, it’s to the sensation of a furry brown mouse sitting in her palm.

It can feel the flickering of her muscles as she wakes—feeling slowly returning to her body. To her credit, she cracks her eyes open and merely observes it.

They’re all but tame by now. The Harsh-Mistress and the Shrieking-Girl and the Angry-Girl are to be avoided like the plague never was, but this girl—the Cinder-Girl, they think of her—is gentle and kind.

Even as she shifts a bit and they hear the dull crack of her joints, they’re too busy to mind. Some finding a few buried peas (there were always some peas or lentils still hidden here, if they looked carefully), some giving themselves an impromptu bath to wash off the dust. The one sitting on her hand is doing the latter, fur fluffed up as it scratches one ear and then scrubs tirelessly over its face with both paws.

One looks up from where it’s discovered a stray pea to check her expression.

A warm little smile has crept up her face, weary and dirty and sore as she seems to be. She stays very still in her awkward half-curl against stone, watching the mouse in her hand groom itself. The tender look about her far overwhelms—melts, even—the traces of tension in her tired limbs.

Very slowly, so much so that they really aren’t bothered by it, she raises her spare hand and begins lightly smearing the soot away from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

The mouse in her palm gives her an odd look for the movement, but has discovered her skin is warmer than the cold stone floor or the ash around the dying fire. It pads around in a circle once, then nudges its nose against her calloused skin, settling down for a moment.

The Cinder-Girl has closed her eyes again, and drops her other hand into her lap, slumping further against the wall. Her smile has grown even warmer, if sadder.

They decide she’s quite safe. Very friendly.

—

The old rat makes his rounds at the usual times of night, shuffling through a passage that leads from the ground all the way up to the attic.

When both gold sticks on the clocks’ moonlike faces point upward, there’s a faint chime from the tower-clock downstairs. He used to worry that the sound would rouse the humans. Now, he ignores it and goes about his business.

There’s a great treasury of old straw in the attic. It’s inside a large sack—and while this one doesn’t have corn or wheat like the ones near the kitchen sometimes do, he knows how to chew it open all the same.

The girl sleeps on this sack of straw, though she doesn’t seem to mind what he takes from it. There’s enough more of it to fill a hundred rat’s nests, so he supposes she doesn’t feel the difference.

Tonight, though—perhaps he’s a bit too loud in his chewing and tearing. The girl sits up slowly in bed, and he stiffens, teeth still sunk into a bit of the fabric.

“Oh.” says the girl. She smiles—and though the expression should seem threatening, all pulled mouth-corners and teeth, he feels the gentleness in her posture and wonders at novel thoughts of differing body languages. “Hello again. Do you need more straw?”

He isn’t sure what the sounds mean, but they remind him of the soft whuffles and squeaks of his siblings when they were small. Inquisitive, unafraid. Not direct or confrontational.

She’s seemed safe enough so far—almost like the woman in white and silver-gold he’s seen here sometimes, marveling at his own confidence in her safeness—so he does what signals not-afraid the best to his kind. He glances her over, twitches his whiskers briefly, and goes back to what he was doing.

Some of the straw is too big and rough, some too small and fine. He scratches a bundle out into a pile so he can shuffle through it. It’s true he doesn’t need much, but the chill of winter hasn’t left the world yet.

The girl laughs. The sound is soft and small. It reminds him again of young, friendly, peaceable.

“Take as much as you need,” she whispers. Her movements are unassuming when she reaches for something on the old wooden crate she uses as a bedside table. With something in hand, she leans against the wall her bed is a tunnel’s-width from, and offers him what she holds. “Would you like this?”

He peers at it in the dark, whiskers twitching. His eyesight isn’t the best, so he finds himself drawing closer to sniff at what she has.

It’s a feather. White and curled a bit, like the goose-down he’d once pulled out the corner of a spare pillow long ago. Soft and long, fluffy and warm.

He touches his nose to it—then, with a glance upward at her softly-smiling face, takes it in his teeth.

It makes him look like he has a mustache, and is a bit too big to fit through his hole easily. The girl giggles behind him as he leaves.

—

There’s a human out in the gardens again. Which is strange—this is a place for lizards, maybe birds and certainly bugs. Not for people, in his opinion. She’s not dressed in venomous bright colors like the other humans often are, but neither does she stay to the manicured garden path the way they do.

She doesn’t smell like unnatural rotten roses, either. A welcome change from having to dart for cover at not just the motions, but the stenches that accompany the others that appear from time to time.

This human is behind the border-shubs, beating an ornate rug that hangs over the fence with a home-tied broom. Huge clouds of dust shake from it with each hit, settling in a thin film on the leaves and grass around her.

She stops for a moment to press her palm to her forehead, then turns over her shoulder and coughs into her arm.

When she begins again, it’s with a sharp WHOP.

He jumps a bit, but only on instinct. However—

A few feet from where he settles back atop the sunning-rock, there’s a scuffle and a sharp splash. Then thrashing—waster swashing about with little churns and splishes.

It’s not the way of lizards to think of doing anything when one falls into the water. There were several basins for fish and to catch water off the roof for the garden—they simply had to not fall into them, not drown. There was little recourse for if they did. What could another lizard do, really? Fall in after them? Best to let them try to climb out if they could.

The girl hears the splashing. She stares at the water pot for a moment.

Then, she places her broom carefully on the ground and comes closer.

Closer. His heart speeds up. He skitters to the safety of a plant with low-hanging leaves—

—and then watches as she walks past his hiding place, peers into the basin, and reaches in.

Her hand comes up dripping wet, a very startled lizard still as a statue clinging to her fingers.

“Are you the same one I always find here?” she asks with a chiding little smile. “Or do all of you enjoy swimming?”

When she places her hand on the soft spring grass, the lizard darts off of it and into the underbrush. It doesn’t go as far as it could, though—something about this girl makes both of them want to stand still and wait for what she’ll do next.

The girl just watches it go. She lets out a strange sound—a weary laugh, perhaps—and turns back to her peculiar chore.

—

A song trails through the old house—under the floorboards—through the walls—into the garden, beneath the undergrowth—and lures them out of hiding.

It isn’t an audible song, not like that of the birds in the summer trees or the ashen-girl murmuring beautiful sounds to herself in the lonely hours. This one was silent. Yet, it reached deep down into their souls and said come out, please—the one who helped you needs your help.

It didn’t require any thought, no more than eat or sleep or run did.

In chains of silver and grey, all the mice who hear it converge, twenty-four tiny feet pattering along the wood in the walls. The rat joins them, but they are not afraid.

When they emerge from a hole out into the open air, the soft slip-slap of more feet surround them. Six lizards scurry from the bushes, some gleaming wet as if they’d just escaped the water trough or run through the birdbath themselves.

As a strange little hoard, they approach the kind girl. Beside her is a tall woman wearing white and silver and gold.

The girl—holding a large, round pumpkin—looks surprised to see them here. The woman is smiling.

“Set the pumpkin on the drive,” the woman says, a soft gleam in her eye. “The rest of you, line up, please.”

Bemused, but with a heartbeat fast enough for them to notice, the girl gingerly places the pumpkin on the stone of the drive. It’s natural for them, somehow, to follow—the mice line in pairs in front of it, the rat hops on top of it, and the lizards all stand beside.

“What are they doing?” asks the girl—and there’s curiosity and gingerness in her tone, like she doesn’t believe such a sight is wrong, but is worried it might be.

The older woman laughs kindly, and a feeling like blinking hard comes over the world.

It’s then—then, in that flash of darkness that turns to dazzling light, that something about them changes.

“Oh!” exclaims the girl, and they open their eyes. “Oh! They’re—“

They’re different.

The mice aren’t mice at all—and suddenly they wonder if they ever were, or if it was an odd dream.

They’re horses, steel grey and sleek-haired with with silky brown manes and tails. Their harnesses are ornate and stylish, their hooves polished and dark.

Instead of a rat, there’s a stout man in fine livery, with whiskers dark and smart as ever. He wears a fine cap with a familiar white feather, and the gleam in his eye is surprised.

“Well,” he says, examining his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose I won’t be wanting for adventure now.”

Instead of six lizards, six footmen stand at attention, their ivory jackets shining in the late afternoon sun.

The girl herself is different, though she’s still human—her hair is done up beautifully in the latest fashion, and instead of tattered grey she wears a shimmering dress of lovely pale green, inlaid with a design that only on close inspection is flowers.

“They are under your charge, now,” says the woman in white, stepping back and folding her hands together. “It is your responsibility to return before the clock strikes midnight—when that happens, the magic will be undone. Understood?”

“Yes,” says the girl breathlessly. She stares at them as if she’s been given the most priceless gift in all the world. “Oh, thank you.”

—

The castle is decorated brilliantly. Flowery garlands hang from every parapet, beautiful vines sprawling against walls and over archways as they climb. Dozens of picturesque lanterns hang from the walls, ready to be lit once the sky grows dark.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the castle,” the girl says, standing one step out of the carriage and looking so awed she seems happy not to go any further. “Father and I used to drive by it sometimes. But it never looked so lovely as this.”

“Shall we accompany you in, milady?” asks one of the footmen. They’re all nearly identical, though this one has freckles where he once had dark flecks in his scales.

She hesitates for only a moment, looking up at the pinnacles of the castle towers. Then, she shakes her head, and turns to look at them all with a smile like the sun.

“I think I’ll go in myself,” she says. “I’m not sure what is custom. But thank you—thank you so very much.”

And so they watch her go—stepping carefully in her radiant dress that looked lovelier than any queen’s.

Though she was not royal, it seemed there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that she was. The guards posted at the door opened it for her without question.

With a last smile over her shoulder, she stepped inside.

—

He's straightening the horses' trappings for the fifth time when the doors to the castle open, and out hurries a figure. It takes him a moment to recognize her, garbed in rich fabrics and cloaked in shadows, but it's the girl, rushing out to the gilded carriage. A footman steps forward and offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully as she steps up into the seat.

“Enjoyable evening, milady?” asks the coachman. His whiskers are raised above the corners of his mouth, and his twinkling eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yes, quite, thank you!” she breathes in a single huff. She smooths her dress the best she can before looking at him with some urgency. “The clock just struck quarter till—will you be able to get us home?”

The gentle woman in white had said they only would remain in such states until midnight. How long was it until the middle of night? What was a quarter? Surely darkness would last for far more hours than it had already—it couldn’t be close. Yet it seemed as though it must be; the princesslike girl in the carriage sounded worried it would catch them at any moment.

“I will do all I can,” he promises, and with a sharp rap of the reins, they’re off at a swift pace.

They arrive with minutes to spare. He knows this because after she helps him down from the carriage (...wait. That should have been the other way around! He makes mental note for next time: it should be him helping her down. If he can manage it. She’s fast), she takes one of those minutes to show him how his new pocketwatch works.

He’s fascinated already. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’ll remember how to tell time when he’s a rat again—or will this, all of this, be forgotten?

The woman in white is there beside the drive, and she’s already smiling. A knowing gleam lights her eye.

“Well, how was the ball?” she asks, as Cinder-Girl turns to face her with the most elated expression. “I hear the prince is looking for fair maidens. Did he speak with you?”

The girl rushes to grasp the woman’s hands in hers, clasping them gratefully and beaming up at her.

“It was lovely! I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she all but gushes, her smile brighter and broader than they’d ever seen it. “The castle is beautiful; it feels so alive and warm. And yes, I met the Prince—although hush, he certainly isn’t looking for me—he’s so kind. I very much enjoyed speaking with him. He asked me to dance, too; I had as wonderful a time as he seemed to. Thank you! Thank you dearly.”

The woman laughs gently. It isn’t a laugh one would describe as warm, but neither is it cold in the sense some laughs can be—it's soft and beautiful, almost crystalline.

“That’s wonderful. Now, up to bed! You’ve made it before midnight, but your sisters will be returning soon.”

“Yes! Of course,” she replies eagerly—turning to smile gratefully at coachman and stroke the nearest horses on their noses and shoulders, then curtsy to the footmen. “Thank you all, very much. I could not ask for a more lovely company.”

It’s a strange moment when all of their new hearts swell with warmth and affection for this girl—and then the world darkens and lightens so quickly they feel as though they’ve fallen asleep and woken up.

They’re them again—six mice, six lizards, a rat, and a pumpkin. And a tattered gray dress.

“Please, would you let me go again tomorrow? The ball will last three days. I had such a wonderful time.”

“Come,” the woman said simply, “and place the pumpkin beneath the bushes.”

The woman in white led the way back to the house, followed by an air-footed girl and a train of tiny critters. There was another silent song in the air, and they thought perhaps the girl could hear it too: one that said yes—but get to bed!

—

The second evening, when the door of the house thuds shut and the hoofsteps of the family’s carriage fade out of hearing, the rat peeks out of a hole in the kitchen corner to see the Cinder-Girl leap to her feet.

She leans close to the window and watched for more minutes than he quite understands—or maybe he does; it was good to be sure all cats had left before coming out into the open—and then runs with a spring in her step to the back door near the kitchen.

Ever so faintly, like music, the woman’s laughter echoes faintly from outside. Drawn to it like he had been drawn to the silent song, the rat scurries back through the labyrinth of the walls.

When he hurries out onto the lawn, the mice and lizards are already there, looking up at the two humans expectantly. This time, the Cinder-Girl looks at them and smiles broadly.

“Hello, all. So—how do you do it?” she asks the woman. Her eyes shine with eager curiosity. “I had no idea you could do such a thing. How does it work?”

The woman fixes her with a look of fond mock-sternness. “If I were to explain to you the details of how, I’d have to tell you why and whom, and you’d be here long enough to miss the royal ball.” She waves her hands she speaks. “And then you’d be very much in trouble for knowing far more than you ought.”

The rat misses the girl’s response, because the world blinks again—and now all of them once again are different. Limbs are long and slender, paws are hooves with silver shoes or feet in polished boots.

The mouse-horses mouth at their bits as they glance back at the carriage and the assortment of humans now standing by it. The footmen are dressed in deep navy this time, and the girl wears a dress as blue as the summer sky, adorned with brilliant silver stars.

“Remember—“ says the woman, watching fondly as the Cinder-Girl steps into the carriage in a whorl of beautiful silk. “Return before midnight, before the magic disappears.”

“Yes, Godmother,” she calls, voice even more joyful than the previous night. “Thank you!”

—

The castle is just as glorious as before—and the crowd within it has grown. Noblemen and women, royals and servants, and the prince himself all mill about in the grand ballroom.

He’s unsure of the etiquette, but it seems best for her not to enter alone. Once he escorts her in, the coachman bows and watches for a moment—the crowd is hushed again, taken by her beauty and how important they think her to be—and then returns to the carriage outside.

He isn’t required in the ballroom for much of the night—but he tends to the horses and checks his pocketwatch studiously, everything in him wishing to be the best coachman that ever once was a rat.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be hard. He’d raise the bar, then. The best coachman that ever drove for a princess.

Because that was what she was—or, that was what he heard dozens of hushed whispers about once she’d entered the ball. Every noble and royal and servant saw her and deemed her a grand princess nobody knew from a land far away. The prince himself stared at her in a marveling way that indicated he thought no differently.

It was a thing more wondrous than he had practice thinking. If a mouse could become a horse or a rat could become a coachman, couldn’t a kitchen-girl become a princess?

The answer was yes, it seemed—perhaps in more ways than one.

She had rushed out with surprising grace just before midnight. They took off quickly, and she kept looking back toward the castle door, as if worried—but she was smiling.

“Did you know the Prince is very nice?” she asks once they’re safely home, and she’s stepped down (drat) without help again. The woman in white stands on her same place beside the drive, and when Cinder-Girl sees her, she waves with dainty grace that clearly holds a vibrant energy and sheer thankfulness behind it. “I’ve never known what it felt like to be understood. He thinks like I do.”

“How is that?” asks the woman, quirking an amused brow. “And if I might ask, how do you know?”

“Because he mentions things first.” The girl tries to smother some of the wideness of her smile, but can’t quite do so. “And I've shared his thoughts for a long time. That he loves his father, and thinks oranges and citrons are nice for festivities especially, and that he’s always wanted to go out someday and do something new.”

—

The third evening, the clouds were dense and a few droplets of rain splattered the carriage as they arrived.

“Looks like rain, milady,” said the coachman as she disembarked to stand on water-spotted stone. “If it doesn’t blow by, we’ll come for ye at the steps, if it pleases you.”

“Certainly—thank you,” she replies, all gleaming eyes and barely-smothered smiles. How her excitement to come can increase is beyond them—but she seems more so with each night that passes.

She has hardly turned to head for the door when a smattering of rain drizzles heavily on them all. She flinches slightly, already running her palms over the skirt of her dress to rub out the spots of water.

Her golden dress glisters even in the cloudy light, and doesn’t seem to show the spots much. Still, it’s hardy an ideal thing.

“One of you hold the parasol—quick about it, now—and escort her inside,” the coachman says quickly. The nearest footman jumps into action, hop-reaching into the carriage and falling back down with the umbrella in hand, unfolding it as he lands. “Wait about in case she needs anything.”

The parasol is small and not meant for this sort of weather, but it's enough for the moment. The pair of them dash for the door, the horses chomping and stamping behind them until they’re driven beneath the bows of a huge tree.

The footman knows his duty the way a lizard knows to run from danger. He achieves it the same way—by slipping off to become invisible, melting into the many people who stood against the golden walls.

From there, he watches.

It’s so strange to see the way the prince and their princess gravitate to each other. The prince’s attention seems impossible to drag away from her, though not for many’s lack of trying.

Likewise—more so than he would have thought, though perhaps he’s a bit slow in noticing—her focus is wholly on the prince for long minutes at a time.

Her attention is always divided a bit whenever she admires the interior of the castle, the many people and glamorous dresses in the crowd, the vibrant tables of food. It’s all very new to her, and he’s not certain it doesn’t show. But the Prince seems enamored by her delight in everything—if he thinks it odd, he certainly doesn’t let on.

They talk and laugh and sample fine foods and talk to other guests together, then they turn their heads toward where the musicians are starting up and smile softly when they meet each other’s eyes. The Prince offers a hand, which is accepted and clasped gleefully.

Then, they dance.

Their motions are so smooth and light-footed that many of the crowd forgo dancing, because admiring them is more enjoyable. They’re in-sync, back and forth like slow ripples on a pond. They sometimes look around them—but not often, especially compared to how long they gaze at each other with poorly-veiled, elated smiles.

The night whirls on in flares of gold tulle and maroon velvet, ivory, carnelian, and emerald silks, the crowd a nonstop blur of color.

(Color. New to him, that. Improved vision was wonderful.)

The clock strikes eleven, but there’s still time, and he’s fairly certain he won’t be able to convince the girl to leave anytime before midnight draws near.

He was a lizard until very recently. He’s not the best at judging time, yet. Midnight does draw near, but he’s not sure he understands how near.

The clock doesn’t quite say up-up. So he still has time. When the rain drums ceaselessly outside, he darts out and runs in a well-practiced way to find their carriage.

—

Another of the footmen comes in quickly, having been sent in a rush by the coachman, who had tried to keep his pocketwatch dry just a bit too long. He’s soaking wet from the downpour when he steps close enough to get her attention.

She sees him, notices this, and—with a glimmer of recognition and amusement in her eyes—laughs softly into her hand.

ONE—TWO— the clock starts. His heart speeds up terribly, and his skin feels cold. He suddenly craves a sunny rock.

“Um,” he begins awkwardly. Lizards didn’t have much in the way of a vocal language. He bows quickly, and water drips off his face and hat and onto the floor. “The chimes, milady.”

THREE—FOUR—

Perhaps she thought it was only eleven. Her face pales. “Oh.”

FIVE—SIX—

Like a deer, she leaps from the prince’s side and only manages a stumbling, backward stride as she curtsies in an attempt at a polite goodbye.

“Thank you, I must go—“ she says, and then she’s racing alongside the footman as fast as they both can go. The crowd parts for them just enough, amidst loud murmurs of surprise.

SEVEN—EIGHT—

“Wait!” calls the prince, but they don’t. Which hopefully isn’t grounds for arrest, the footman idly thinks.

They burst through the door and out into the open air.

NINE—TEN—

It has been storming. The rain is crashing down in torrents—the walkways and steps are flooded with a firm rush of water.

She steps in a crevice she couldn’t see, the water washes over her feet, and she stumbles, slipping right out of one shoe. There’s noise at the door behind them, so she doesn’t stop or even hesitate. She runs at a hobble and all but dives through the open carriage door. The awaiting footman quickly closes it, and they’re all grasping quickly to their riding-places at the corners of the vehicle.

ELEVEN—

A flash of lightning coats the horses in white, despite the dark water that’s soaked into their coats, and with a crack of the rains and thunder they take off at a swift run.

There’s shouting behind them—the prince—as people run out and call to the departing princess.

TWELVE.

Mist swallows them up, so thick they can’t hear or see the castle, but the horses know the way.

The castle’s clock tower must have been ever-so-slightly fast. (Does magic tell truer time?) Their escape works for a few thundering strides down the invisible, cloud-drenched road—until true midnight strikes a few moments later.

—

She walks home in the rain and fog, following a white pinprick of light she can guess the source of—all the while carrying a hollow pumpkin full of lizards, with an apron pocket full of mice and a rat perched on her shoulder.

It’s quite the walk.

—

The prince makes a declaration so grand that the mice do not understand it. The rat—a bit different now—tells them most things are that way to mice, but he’s glad to explain.

The prince wants to find the girl who wore the golden slipper left on the steps, he relates. He doesn’t want to ask any other to marry him, he loved her company so.

The mice think that’s a bit silly. Concerning, even. What if he does find her? There won’t be anyone to secretly leave seeds in the ashes or sneak them bread crusts when no humans are looking.

The rat thinks they’re being silly and that they’ve become too dependent on handouts. Back in his day, rodents worked for their food. Chewing open a bag of seed was an honest day’s work for its wages.

Besides, he confides, as he looks again out the peep-hole they’ve discovered in the floor trim of the parlor. You’re being self-interested, if you ask me. Don’t you want our princess to find a good mate, and live somewhere spacious and comfortable, free of human-cats, where she’d finally have plenty to eat?

It’s hard to make a mouse look appropriately chastised, but that question comes close. They shuffle back a bit to let him look out at the strange proceedings in the parlor again.

There are many humans there. The Harsh-Mistress stands tall and rigid at the back of one of the parlor chairs, exchanging curt words with a strange man in fine clothes with a funny hat. Shrieking-Girl and Angry-Girl stand close, scoffing and laughing, looking appalled.

Cinder-Girl sits on the chair that’s been pulled to the middle of the room. She extends her foot toward a strange golden object on a large cushion.

The shoe, the rat notes so the mice can follow. They can’t quite see it from here—poor eyesight and all.

Of course, the girl’s foot fits perfectly well into her own shoe. They all saw that coming.

Evidently, the humans did not. There’s absolute uproar.

“There is no possible way she’s the princess you’re looking for!” declares Harsh-Mistress, her voice full of rage. “She’s a kitchen maid. Nothing royal about her.”

“How dare you!” Angry-Girl rages. “Why does it fit you? Why not us?”

“You sneak!” shrieks none other than Shrieking-Girl. “Mother, she snuck to the ball! She must have used magic, somehow! Princes won’t marry sneaks, will they?”

“I think they might,” says a calm voice from the doorway, and the uproar stops immediately.

The Prince steps in. He stares at Cinder-Girl.

She stares back. Her face is still smudged with soot, and her dress is her old one, gray and tattered. The golden slipper gleams on her foot, having fit as only something molded or magic could.

A blush colors her face beneath the ash and she leaps up to do courtesy. “Your Highness.”

The Prince glances at the messenger-man with the slipper-pillow and the funny hat. The man nods seriously.

The Prince blinks at this, as if he wasn’t really asking anything with his look—it’s already clear he recognizes her—and meets Cinder-Girl’s gaze with a smile. It’s the same half-nervous, half-attemptingly-charming smile as he kept giving her at the ball.

He bows to her and offers a hand. (The rat has to push three mice out of the way to maintain his view.)

“It’s my honor,” he assures her. “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the castle? I’d had a question in mind, but it seems there are—“ he glances at Harsh-Mistress, who looks like a very upset rat in a mousetrap. “—situations we might discuss remedying. You’d be a most welcome guest in my father’s house, if you’d be amenable to it?”

It’s all so much more strange and unusual than anything the creatures of the house are used to seeing. They almost don’t hear it, at first—that silent song.

It grows stronger, though, and they turn their heads toward it with an odd hope in their hearts.

—

The ride to the castle is almost as strange as that prior walk back. The reasons for this are such:

One—their princess is riding in their golden carriage alongside the prince, and their chatter and awkward laughter fills the surrounding spring air. They have a good feeling about the prince, now, if they didn’t already. He can certainly take things in stride, and he is no respecter of persons. He seems just as elated to be by her side as he was at the ball, even with the added surprise of where she'd come from.

Two—they have been transformed again, and the woman in white has asked them a single question: Would you choose to stay this way?

The coachman said yes without a second thought. He’d always wanted life to be more fulfilling, he confided—and this seemed a certain path to achieving that.

The footmen might not have said yes, but there was something to be said for recently-acquired cognition. It seemed—strange, to be human, but the thought of turning back into lizards had the odd feeling of being a poor choice. Baffled by this new instinct, they said yes.

The horses, of course, said things like whuff and nyiiiehuhum, grumph. The woman seemed to understand, though. She touched one horse on the nose and told it it would be the castle’s happiest mouse once the carriage reached its destination. The others, it seemed, enjoyed their new stature.

And three—they are heading toward a castle, where they have all been offered a fine place to live. The Prince explains that he doesn’t wish for such a kind girl to live in such conditions anymore. There’s no talk of anyone marrying—just discussions of rooms and favorite foods and of course, you’ll have the finest chicken pie anytime you’d like and I can’t have others make it for me! Lend me the kitchens and I’ll make some for you; I have a very dear recipe. Perhaps you can help. (Followed in short order by a ...Certainly, but I’d—um, I’d embarrass myself trying to cook. You would teach me? and a gentle laugh that brightened the souls of all who could hear it.)

“If you’d be amenable to it,” she replies—and in clear, if surprised, agreement, the Prince truly, warmly laughs.

“Milady,” the coachman calls down to them. “Your Highness. We’re here.”

The castle stands shining amber-gold in the light of the setting sun. It will be the fourth night they’ve come here—the thirteen of them and the one of her—but midnight, they realize, will not break the spell ever again.

One by one, they disembark from the carriage. If it will stay as it is or turn back into a pumpkin, they hadn't thought to ask. There’s so much warmth swelling in their hearts that they don’t think it matters.

The girl, their princess, smiles—a dear, true smile, tentative in the face of a brand new world, but bright with hope—and suddenly, they’re all smiling too.

She steps forward, and they follow. The prince falls into step with her and offers an arm, and their glances at each other are brimming with light as she accepts.

With her arm in the arm of the prince, a small crowd of footmen and the coachman trailing behind, and a single grey mouse on her shoulder, the once-Cinder-Girl walks once again toward the palace door.

#Well this wasn't my first Cinderella retelling idea that I was excited about BUT -#since that one was turning into a tangle of Too Much Going On (though it's currently at 5k and maybe 70% done; I still plan to finish it)#I tried this one instead!#pros: I think I actually wrote myself out of writer's block? Which is AWESOME #And I feel like I'm starting to notice what needs fixed and mended about my writing; which is very helpful!#cons: due to having the additional pro of a very socially growth-filled few weeks IRL; I did not do much about that fact #please excuse the general lack of editing thus far #I have also learned that I may want to be at least a Level 5 Fairy Tale Reteller #before I tackle stories with hundreds of years of popular retellings and versions?#Although this one came much more easily than my first idea; it still felt more difficult to write than my Nix Nought Nothing story.#So another pro - I learned that I enjoy writing about lesser-known tales the most! Next time I might try a fun obscure one.#All in all this was a ton of fun!! Thanks for running the challenge! Apologies for being nearly late - I had a wonderful time!#I hope you all enjoy! <3 #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale retelling challenge #love: philia #love: agape #Cinderella #story: complete #basil writes #salt and light

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