daring swordfights

im gonna type the whole song from memory ok

little town. it’s a quiet village. every day, like the one before. little town, full of little people. waking up to say…bonjour! bounjour! bonjour, bounjour, bonjour! there goes the baker with his tray like always, the same old bread and rolls 2 sell. every morning just the same, since the morning that we came to this poor provencial town. good morning, belle! good morning, mouseir! where you off to? the book shop i read the most wonderful story about a beanstalk and an ogre and a that’s nice


look there she goes the girl is strange no question, dazed and distracted can’t you tell never part of any crowd cuz her head’s up on some cloud no denying she’s a funny girl that belle. bonjour! good day! how is your family? bonjour! good day! how is your wife? I NNEEED,, SXIX EGGS,, that’s too expensive, there must be more than this provincial life! ah belle. good morning! i’ve come to return the book i borrowed. finished already? oh i couldn’t put it down have you got anything new. not since yesterday. that’s alright! i’ll borrow this one. but you’ve read it twice! well it’s my favorite – far off places (?), daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise. haha, well if you like it all that mutch it’s yours. but sir…i insist. well thank you. thank you very much! look there she goes that girl is so peculiar, i wonder if she’s feeling well. with a dreamy faroff look, and a nose stuck in a book, what a puzzle to the rest of us is belle. oh, isn’t this amazing, it’s my favorite part because, you see…here’s where she meets prince charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him til chapter three. now there’s no wonder that her name means beauty her looks have got no paralllel. but behind that fair facade, i’m afraid she’s rather odd. very different from the rest of us she’s nothing like the rest of us yes different from the rest of us is belle! fuck the gaston part. look there…he goes. isn’t he dreamy. monsieur gaston, oh he’s so cute! (tongue pop) be still, my heart, i’m hardly breathing…he’s such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute. bonjour PARDON good day MAIS OUI you call this bay WHAT LOVELY GRAPES. ten yards, one pound, SCUZE ME i’ll get my knife PLEASE LET ME THROUGH this bread THOSE FISH its stale THEY SMELL  madame’s mistake–well maybe so there must be more than this provincial life! just watch im going to make belle my wife! look there she goes that girl is strange but special, a most peculiar mademoiselle its a pity and a sin she doesn’t quite fit in cuz she really is a funny girl a beauty but a funny girl she really is a funny girl, that belle – bonjour! bonjour! bonjour! bonjour! bonjour! 🅱️️onjour!

Tale As Old As Time: Chapter 1 Provincial Life

Originally posted by easycompany

((Lmao the last thing I should be writing is another series right? But I saw beauty and the Beast the other day and I was inspired.))

I give credit to @dontshootmespence​ for helping me organize everything.

Contains: Fluff, Eventual Spencer x Reader- but sorry, you don’t have a really appearance in this chapter yet.


Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle. Her name was Y/n.  Although she had everything her heart desired, the princess was spoiled, selfish, and unkind.  But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered her a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the princess sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned the girl not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when she dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.  The princess tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in Y/n’s heart, and as punishment, she transformed her into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there. Ashamed of her monstrous form, the beast concealed herself inside her castle, with a magic mirror as her only window to the outside world.  The rose the enchantress had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until her twenty-first year.  If Y/n could learn to love another, and earn his love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken.  If not, she would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.  As the years passed, she fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?


A young man exited his home, an unseen smile blooming on his face at the valley he and his mother lived at. The dirt roads, leading to the cobblestone village were earthy and coffee-like, light in the rays of the sun and sapphire skies. The grass wasn’t too green, but his mother’s garden did brighten up their yard, and brought a sweet smell to his nose.

His name was Spencer. The man was past his twenties, not too long ago turning 37, and still without a bride, content in looking after his mother. Her brain wasn’t too sharp anymore, but she had her moments where the young woman he grew up with shone through.

Spencer smoothed down the white smock he wore over his light blue trousers, and matching vest, a white shirt to cover his arms. His shoulder-length hazelnut locks were tied back with a blue ribbon he had stolen from his mother. He grabbed the basket that lie next to the stone stairs he walked down from, placing the book he had thumbed over the last few hours into the weaving.

Every morning Spencer went into town to grab some ingredients for food that day, and to head to the bookshop in town, his favorite place in the entire world. Unfortunately, not everyone in the town really respected him. Some people were cruel, teasing him for being so odd, or being Diana Reid’s son. As he reached the buildings and shoppes, he could already see people staring and whispering about him.

He ignored everyone whispering about how he was a ‘funny man’ or making fun of him for being smart. Although the townsfolk boasted of his beauty, he felt upset and annoyed that that was all they cared about. His mother had always warned him that one shouldn’t judge a book by their cover. Speaking of books…

“Ah, Spencer!” The librarian, Emily Prentiss, got down from her ladder where she had previously been dusting to hug her favorite (and most frequent) patron. “Let me guess, you’ve finished the book already, and no, I’m sorry, we don’t have anything new.” She pretended not to notice Spencer’s embarrassment as he nodded. The library had maybe twenty books to it’s name and not many people came to visit. But her business was held afloat by the absence of taxes.

“Can I borrow…this one?” He asked shyly, holding up a familiar leather cover. She nodded, but still felt confused. “I know, I’ve read this one too many times but…it"s my favorite. Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!” A dreamy look overcame his face as he rambled on.

“Well, if you like it all that much, it’s yours!” She proclaimed, laughing at his dumbstruck look upon his face. “I insist! You’re the only one who really likes it anyway!”

“Well thank you.’ Spencer’s voice was quiet, reaching out to hug her once more.  "Thank you very much!” He left the shop, looking like a boy on Christmas morning.

Spencer held the book in his hands that he had already read so much like he had just received a chest of gold. He could practically recite it from memory, but he still contained as much joy as when he first read it as his eyes hungrily ate up 'Once upon a time’. He was careful to avoid damaging the book or running into anyone as he whisked by the market, digging out coins from his smock pockets and paying each merchant for bread, eggs- which were quite expensive- and some slivers of meat from the butcher.

“There he is….” A young girl watched from afar, sipping from her teacup. She wore an expensive tea gown, hair curled and styled high in the fashion that was popular in Paris, looking through the window of a shoe shoppe. Diane Turner was a young, weathly orphan who never stopped reminding Spencer that she was eligible for marriage. It seems the only reason she was so infatuated with him was because he didn’t make a bumbling fool of himself offering himself to her like the small group of men she had attracted in the village. She had just returned from Paris, another trip to buy more expensive things and had set her eyes back to on as who she referred to as her future husband.

“No one stands a chance against you Ms., especially against any man.” Her friend/servant since birth Maeve Donovan stood by her side, voice gentle, as if merely speaking would anger Diane. Maeve never knew what mood her mistress would be in, but she seemed happy enough with her 'cat ate the canary’ smile

Diane set her teacup and saucer down on the windowsill, standing and promptly walking out of the shoppe, ignoring the owner’s frown as the rich customer didn’t buy anything. Maeve quickly followed suit behind her, amazed how Diane could walk so fast in heels. “I know Maeve, and my eyes are set on that man right there.” She pointed up ahead where Spencer slowly walked, softly humming to himself and he flipped through the book.

“You mean crazy Diana Reid’s son?” Maeve gasped, furrowing her eyebrows. “But he’s-”

“The most beautiful man and town! That makes him the best! And I dare say I do deserve the best don’t i?” Diane interrupted with a sneering tone. Maeve stopped in her tracks, blushing as she apologized.

“It’s just his mother….you really want to marry into that family?” She mumbled, scurrying back after Diane. Diane made a rude noise, clicking her tongue loudly as she moved to face Maeve.

“You’re so simple-minded. His mother is old, she’ll probably die soon. Then it will be just Spencer and I. Imagine it… his latest kill roasting on the fire, and I, his little wife massaging his feet while our six or seven little ones play with the dogs.”

“Spencer? Hunting?” Maeve had to stifle a laugh, questing down as the pair finally reached the aforementioned man. The idea seemed positively ridiculous. “Spencer!” Diane greeted, smiling and giving a polite nod.

“Bonjour…” Spencer quickly finished the last sentence of the page he was reading and looked up, bowing slightly. He wasn’t expecting Diane to pry the book from his hands as she did, flipping through the pages.

“What’s this about hm? Shouldn’t you be out hunting with the other village men? I heard they were all out today.” Spencer had to hold back scoffing at her statement. It wasn’t that he was against hunting, he just preferred staying inside and reading with his mother.

“There’s more to life then chasing an animal.” Spencer nodded politely, taking the book back and trying to end the conversation and walk away but Diane stood in his path. “Yes, there is, I am delighted you’ve noticed. You know, most of the townsfolk think that you might not be looking exactly for a wife due to your…lack of…” She rambled on and his face turned a light pink, eyebrows furrowing. “You should join me for tea one day.” She proposed and he shook his head, declining.

“I can’t, my mother needs my help.” He gestured to the path that led to his house, grimacing when Diane started laughing at him, elbowing Maeve harshly to join in. Spencer bit back a sigh, almost rolling his eyes.

“Your mother? She’s just a peculiar old spinster….I guess that would mean she needs all the help she can get.” Spencer’ saw clenched, making Maeve stop her forced laughter out of fear, Diane being completely ignorant.

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way.” He walked around her to head back to his house, ignoring the four heels that pitter-pattered behind him, biting his lip harshly when Diane tried to pass the comment off like Maeve had set it. Spencer practically ran up the path when he finally saw the fence around his house.

“Spencer!” Diane cried exasperatedly, corset and excessive exercise making it hard to breathe. “Listen, we’ve lived in this town our whole lives, yes?” She waited for him to agree before she continued. “Let’s not beat around the bush then. We’re both in our prime, and let’s be honest, you really can’t do better then me… let alone being in this small town or not….” She trailed off, giving him a pointed look.

“What are you…why…is this your way of getting me to propose to you?” He almost laughed but the fear of being Mr. Diane Turner overpowered his hysterics. His pace started getting quicker. “Diane, you’re right about one thing, we’ve lived in this town our whole lives. I’ve known you since we were little, but the one thing that has never changed is your arrogance.” His hands finally reached the wooden gate and he tried to quickly shut it but Diane, with a furious expression tore right through behind him, not caring if she stepped on any flowers.

“All I’m saying is that we could never be happy together, so therefore, after thinking, and realizing I’m too poor to buy you a fancy ring or anything really, maybe, perhaps, we shouldn’t get married at all. Have a good day!” He opened and slammed his front door shut, leaning his back against the heavy oak and sliding down until he almost hit the floor. After he was sure she was gone, he bolted out of his house, muttering to himself.

“Mousier Turner- ha! Can’t you just see it? Her husband! No sir!” He ran off into the wide open lands behind his house, practically collapsing as he stared up into the sky. Didn’t anybody realize that he wanted to leave this village? He wanted adventure so much he dreamt vivid dreams about traveling. Why couldn’t anyone understand?

“I cannot do this anymore Spencer.” His mother sighed, quill in hand, scrolls of various chapters about her novel she had been working on. Every year she would write one but no one ever picked them up. “Too intimidated by your genius” Spencer would tell her.

“Mother you always say that, and every year you finish it.” Spencer waved off his mother’s rambling, trying to find a place to set down a meal for her. It was crunch time, her leaving tomorrow meant he needed to finish editing today.

“I mean it, this time.  I’ll never get this boneheaded story to sound even remotely good at all.” Diana ran her hand through her hair, elbows on the desk in front of her. Spencer shook his head, making his way over to her.

“Yes, you will.  And you’ll finally get that publication.” He continued as she groaned,
wrapping his arms around her shoulders.  "…and become a world famous author! Soon every person in the world will have their very own Diana Reid story.

“You really believe that?’ Her tone became soft, unbelieving.  "I always have.” he reassured her, kissing his mother on the cheek. She seemed satisfied with that so he had started cleaning up, making sure not to step on any pages.

“So, did you have a good time in town today?” She mumbled as she worked, adjusting her spectacles.

“I got a new book.” He shrugged and stayed quiet for a few moments. “……Mama, do you think I’m odd?”

“My son?  Odd?” She tutted, shaking her head.  "Where would you get an idea like that?“

"Oh, I don’t know.  It’s just I’m not sure I’ve ever really fitted in this town. There’s no one I can really talk to.”

“What about that…’ She snapped her fingers for a moment trying to think. "Diane?  She’s a pretty little thing! Rich as well….” Spencer snorted. “She’s pretty all right, pretty rude and conceited and…Oh Mother, she’s not for me!”

“Well, don’t you worry, cause this book should be the start of a new life for us. I think that’s done it.  Now, give it a read.” She thrusted the stack of papers over in his direction. It took him about 20 minutes to get through the whole thing, well, everything he was given while Diana almost paced a hole in the floor. “Well….It’s wonderful. My favorite book so far.”

“It works? It works!” She shrieked, grabbing him in a hug and kissing his face.

“You did it!  You really did it!” He hoped his mother’s words rang true. He so badly wished to get out of here, one nice he knew for certain his mother was safe, maybe then he could try thinking about love.

The next morning Spencer watched with a frown as his mother got ready for her yearly trip to Paris. He was never allowed to go, and although he wondered why, he never fought his mother’s decision. She went every year not only to go and publish her books but to go and learn new things, get new books, and bring back new ideas. Diana had always wanted to be a teacher, but she wasn’t allowed to, as a women, for they were too “fragile”.

“My dear, is there anything you would like?” Diana was bustling around outside, getting all of her bags and books. Spencer pitched in to help, his added strength unfortunately making the job done quicker.

“I only wish for a rose.” He replied, smile growing when Diana turned, slightly puzzled. “You ask for that every year…” She wondered out loud, giving him a look.

“There are no roses that grow in this part of town… I’ve looked everywhere. I can remember when I was younger, they used to be all around us…” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, stopping his bashful activities when his mother leaned over and kissed his forehead.

“Then I will continue to bring you one.” She cupped the side of his face with her hand, saying her goodbyes and heading on her way. Spencer ran behind her, shouting and waving his own goodbyes until Phillippe pulled the carriage too fast for his liking.

It wasn’t until early the next morning, earlier then the crows of the roosters that Spencer heard violent whinny’s outside of the house. He opened the door to find Phillippe, no carriage, his mother not in sight. Without a second thought he climbed on the horses back, flicking the reins.

“Take me to her.”

Beauty and the Beast (KG3 x Reader) (Part 1/?)


Summary: Once upon a time a spoiled young king meet a beautiful girl who will save him from destruction.

Warnings: None? Gaston being an idiot. KG3 isn’t really in this one but he will be in the next one.
Once upon a time in the hidden heart of Britain a young king lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired he was selfish and unkind. He taxed his colonies to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects and the most beautiful people.

One night an old woman came to the castle, offering a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance the king turned the woman away. She warned him to not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within. When the king dismissed her again the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

He tried to apologize, but it was too late she had seen there was no love in his heart. As punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. Placing a spell upon the castle and all that lived there. As days bleed into years the king and his servants were forgotten by the world. For the enchantress had erased all memory from those who loved them… and hated them.

The rose she had offered him was truly an enchanted rose. If the king could learn to love another and earn their love in return before the last petal fell the spell would be broken. If not he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast…

The early morning sun had already risen when you walked out of your tiny cottage. You held a new book you’d gotten from the library a few days ago. A story about a beanstalk, and an ogre, and a-

“Go’ mornin’!” You heard from a path leading to the woods near your home. You nodded and curtsied to the man. He must not know who you were.

“Bonjour.” You said and his face became sour. Right. The British didn’t quite like the French. (An understatement, but you’d never liked to think people hated you. Barely anyone in this town knew you well enough for that.) That’s one of the reasons you felt you didn’t belong in this small rural village. You held the book closer to your chest as you continued walking.

People were just starting to come out as you entered the town limits. They all greeted each other. One or two saying hello to you. You greeted them kindly, but continuing your trek to the library. You could hear them talking about you. They had never learned the skill of whispering.

“Look at her boots, they look like a man’s.”

“You can see her underwear, the way she has her skirt tied up like that. I’d believe she was some common whore if I didn’t know she was so strange.”

“I still don’t see why Gaston likes her so much.”

“Well she is pretty.”

“Yes, but completely mad.”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. You didn’t care what they thought of you.

“Good morning Belle.” You blushed at the nickname.Gaston had given it to you when he’d learned you were French. The whole town had followed suit. You stopped to talk to the old man who had called to you. Mr. Smith, the oldest man in town.

“Bonjour Mr. Smith. How are you today?” You asked with a kind smile. The old man meant well and you’d always found him polite.

“Oh, it’s been okay. I do believe it will rain soon. My back is giving me troubles.” He said and shrugged slightly.

“Well, lets hope it will clear up soon.” You said. He looked at your book disapproving for only a moment.

“Where are you off to?” He asked and you looked at you book.

“The library, I just finished this. It’s a wonderful story.” You said and he nodded.

“Well I’ll let you be on your way. Have a good day.” He said and limped away.

“You as well Mr. Smith.”

You could see the library from where you were standing. You increased your pace as you got closer. You opened the door to the small building the little bell singing as you walked in.

“You know that thing doesn’t ever ring for anyone else, but you.” He said and you let out a laugh.

“Well no one truly appreciates this place then.” You said and as you set the book on his desk.

“Do you gave something new?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Not since yesterday, but you’re free to take any of the others.” He said and you nodded. You looked through the stacks for a moment before pulling out the one you wanted. “This one again?”

“It’s my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!” You and looked at the book adoringly. It had been the first book you read in this town. It had kept you warm on cold nights and happy when things got tough.

“Well if you like it all that much it’s yours.” The librarian said and you gasped.

“Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, now be on your way. Your father will worry.” He said and smiled at you.

“Thank you so much.” You said and flipped to the first page on your way through the door. You tuned out the chatter of the townspeople as you read. You were almost back to your home when you bumped into something and dropped your book. Or more specifically someone. An arrogant, rude, and conceited someone.

“Good morning Belle.” Gaston said putting on his most charming smile. Which honestly just looked creepy to you. You took a breath and gave him a forced smile.

“Bonjour Gaston,” you said as he picked up your book. “May I have my book.” He had started shaking his head at it.

“How can you read this, there’s no pictures.” He said as he flipped through the pages. There were in fact pictures, it was in the middle of the book. It was quite beautiful you thought.

“Some people use their imaginations.” You quipped grabbing your book from him and dusting it off.

“Belle it’s not right for a woman to read. Soon they start thinking, and getting ideas.” He said and you rose a brow.

“I think those are synonyms for each other.” You said and he got the funniest face as he was confused.

“Synonyms? Anyways Belle-”

“Gaston I would love to stay and talk more, but I have to get home to my father.” You said and started to walk away.

Gaston looked around to see if anyone had seen the rejection. One man had and he scoffed,”She wants me. She’s just playing hard to get.” He said and the man nodded walking on. “She will be my wife.”

“Papa?” You asked as you entered into your home.

“Ah mon ami you’re home! Come come look at what I’ve been working on.” He said from the basement of your cottage.

“Papa?” You asked walking down the steps to the painting room your father had made. He loved to paint, you lived to invent. You both used the space equally. When you reached your father you put your head on his shoulder. The painting was of a woman, with roses all around her. You smiled at the perfect painting of your mother.

“Oh papa, it’s beautiful.” You said and he leaned his head against yours.

“You really think?” He asked.

“I know, and you’ll win first prize at the art fair at the end of this week.” You said and he smiled.

“Why thank you dear. Would you mind fetching me my white paint I’ve run out and I want to add a few more things.” He said and you nodded going over to his extensive painting collection.

“Papa, do you think I’m odd?” You asked. No matter how you refused to let the townspeople get to you, sometimes it’s all your mind could think about.

“My daughter odd? You’re absolutely mad to think that!” He said and you grabbed his paint shoving it into his hand.

“Not funny Papa.” You said and sat on a stool near him.

“I thought it was quite funny.” He mumbled and you rolled your eyes. “Now is that why you’re really upset?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, I just- I don’t fit in here Papa. I don’t really have any friends.” You said and he rose a brow.

“What about Gaston, he’s a handsome fellow.” Your father suggested and you scoffed.

“Yes, and rude and conceited. Oh Papa he’s not for me.” You said and looked at your hands that had fallen into your lap.

“Hmm.” Your father hummed and continued painting. He smiled when he was finished. “You are truly your mother’s daughter: Class.” He said and you smiled a little.

“Well I will let this dry. Come on let start a late breakfast don’t you say. Then you can get to your inventing.” He said and your smile grew even more. You walked with him up to the kitchen to make breakfast.

The week passed on slowly. You’d go into town and buy the things you needed. Avoid Gaston and try to not let the girls in the town make you self conscious. Then on Friday your father was set to leave for the art fair to sell his paintings.

“Is there anything you want while I’m in the city?” He asked and you thought for a moment.

“A rose, like the one mother’s holding in the painting.” You said and he nodded.

“Take care my dear. I will be back before you know it.” He said and kissed your forehead.

“Goodbye Papa. Be safe.” You said and kissed his cheek. You watched from your porch as he rode off. You turned and walked into your home going to read. Everything had been taken of that morning and you could wait to get back to your story.

An hour after your father had left a knock came at your door. You set your book down on the table in front of you. You marked your page and walked to the door. You looked into the peephole contraption you’d made and groaned at the person who was standing there.

You reluctantly opened the door. “Gaston what a… surprise.” You said as he made his way in. You watched as he walked his way to your dining table.

“Good evening Belle. I hope your day has been well.” He said and set his muddy boots on your table cloth next to your book.

‘It was good until you got here.’ You thought crossing your arms over your chest. “Forgive me if I sound a bit unpleased but why are you here?” You asked him.

“Belle, I’m here to make all your dreams come true.” He said and you walked over and grabbed your book away from him.

“And what do you know about my dreams Gaston?” You asked moving to put your book on the shelf.

“Plenty, picture this, a the tavern, a roaring fire place, my little wife massaging my feet. While the little ones play with the dogs on the floor. We’ll have six or seven.” You realized you’d turned your back to Gaston and quickly corrected that.


“No Belle, young strapping boys, like me. And do you know who that little wife will be Belle.” He asked coming closer to you.

“Let me guess-”

“You Belle.” You gasped a little and slid from under his arms. He followed after you.

“Gaston I’m flattered really I am, but I-” he’d backed you up to the door and was leaning forward eyes closed mouth puckered. His hands had trapped you in. “I just don’t deserve you.” You said and opened the front door and got out from under him as he fell into your porch. You slammed the door and saw his boots on your table. You quickly grabbed them and opened the door throwing them out and locking the door.

You took a deep breath and sighed. This was your life. Walking through a provincial town and dodging a delusional egomaniac.

You looked out the window and saw a whole wedding ceremony set up. You rolled your eyes with disgust. You couldn’t believe he would do that. No you really could believe he would do that.

You huffed and went out to the back. “Can you believe him?” You asked the chickens.
“Me? The wife of that boring brainless?!” You screamed in frustration and threw down the food.

“Madame Gaston can’t you just see it! Madame Gaston his little wife ugh! No sir! Not me! I guarantee it I want much more that this provincial life!” You said as you stomped through your backyard. This was so completely and utterly unbelievable.
Then the truly unbelievable happened.

Philippe, the horse your father owned, came running through the field behind your house and you ran to meet him. Why? Because your father wasn’t with him.

“Philippe where’s Papa! Where is he?” You asked and quickly undid the small painting coach attached to his saddle.

“Take me too him Phillippe.” You said and climbed onto the horse and you sprinted for the hills.

atinygaykira  asked:

I feel like E spends a lot of late nights reading. Cause they lived on the Isle so I assume they didn't really have access to so many different books that are completely intact. Make this request if you want, but I like the idea of E going late into the night reading and M waking up and realizing that E is still awake. Thus leading to a whole emotional convo with E expressing that she loves reading because of these different worlds and it makes her think about how her life has changed Mevie obvi

Dark circles under Evie’s eyes were cause for blaring alarm in Mal’s head. She covered them perfectly, of course, but first thing in the morning they were right there, setting off Mal’s mental warning sirens. She said nothing the very first day she noticed them, or the second, or the third, but when a week passed, and Mal caught her best friend stumbling into the desk one morning with heavy, half-closed eyes, she had to speak up.

“Evie, what’s going on??” she demanded, dropping the shirt she picked out on her bed to go over to her.

“…Hm? What?” Evie rubbed her eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping at night,” Mal flatly said, looking seriously into Evie’s cloudy gaze. “What is it? Are you having nightmares?”

“Mal, no,” Evie laughed her off and moved past her to the dresser, to decide on an outfit of her own before she went into the bathroom to start on her makeup. “I’m okay.”

Mal kept pushing it, far too familiar with sleepless nights and hating the thought of Evie suffering through them alone more than she cared to admit. But Evie insisted, she was absolutely fine. It went on that way for a few days more, Mal tentatively debating on whether or not she wanted to hang Evie upside down from the second floor banister until she talked, determined to help her friend with her slightly skewed morals yet ultimately good intentions.

But Mal blinked her eyes open one night, or technically, one very early morning, and the glow of lamplight from across the room stung her eyes. With a groan she rolled over to bury her face in her pillow until she decided she was awake and conscious enough to deal with this. Another groan followed when she finally sat up, body feeling like it was tied down with weights.


She was still blinking in the light, but that was definitely Evie propped up in bed at—Mal glanced at her alarm clock—4:59 in the morning.

At the sound of Mal’s groggy voice Evie jumped a bit, not realizing she had woken up. She slipped a bookmark in between the pages of the book she was holding, which is what first brought Mal’s attention to it.

“…What are you doing?” Mal frowned, throwing the covers off.

She got out of bed and shuffled across the room just as Evie shut the book closed, and Mal’s blurry vision cleared to have a look at it. It was a plain, sky blue hardcover with a blank front, but “The Snow Queen” debossed on the spine. Mal was awake enough now to put it together.

“You’ve been up late reading all this time?”

Evie didn’t know why there was such a hint of astonishment lying within Mal’s tone.

“Well, yeah,” Evie laughed a bit.

Mal climbed up beside Evie on her bed.

“E, it’s five in the morning. We have class in hours. Why would you stay awake this late just to read? You’ve got dark circles under your eyes that would make your mother toss and turn in her sleep and this morning you confused Dude for a shag pillow, you have to actually go to bed at night.”

“M, I can’t help it,” Evie smiled in spite of a yawn.

Mal just looked worriedly at her, her expression taking on that endearing bunched up pout of hers. Evie saw the look, and responded with a thoughtful one, trying to figure out how to explain.

“…Mal, we grew up on The Isle. And me? I grew up locked inside a castle. For ten years all I ever saw were stone walls, and when I was finally out, all I saw after that was a crumbling, grungy island stuck behind a barrier. I’ve been trapped all my life, you know? Even more so than you, or Carlos, or Jay.”

Mal frowned, knowing that her own mother was responsible for that dark cloud in Evie’s life.

“When I read…I’m not here anymore. I’m in far-off places with daring swordfights and magic spells. I don’t remember the castle, or the island, I’m too busy getting lost in a whole other world, a better world. And we didn’t have books on The Isle, not the way they do here in Auradon. Books you can read through to the end without pages missing or torn, without the whole thing falling apart in your hands after coming from being soaked in seawater. I’ve been reading so much lately because it helps me forget, Mal.”

“…Forget?” Mal prodded.

“Who I…what I came from.”

Evie ran her thumb back and forth across the book’s cover, avoiding Mal’s eyes just then.

“I never thought about how…I mean, I knew you…” Mal struggled to find words that made sense.

“It’s okay,” Evie assured her.  "It just helps, that’s all.  I guess I stay up so late because I get so amazingly lost.“

“Better in there than it is out here, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mal looked thoughtful, if not a little saddened. This was essentially what she’d been concerned about the first time around with Evie’s sleepless nights. Nothing wrong with her enjoying her books and her adventures, but the underlying reason for it gave Mal pause.

Unceremoniously, she invited herself right in and made herself comfortable under Evie’s covers, snuggling up warmly beneath the sheets.

“Read me something,” she requested, scooting over onto Evie’s pillow.



Evie’s smile was beaming as she opened her book right back to where she’d left off, starting to read aloud from The Snow Queen with that wonderfully tantalizing voice of hers, somehow both enticing and soothing Mal at the same time.

“It was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror, of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still.”

Even Mal could feel that striking a little too close to home for Evie, even before she felt it in the rather long and deep pause that hung in the air when Evie realized what she’d read. Without a word she leaned over, resting her head on Evie’s shoulder and looking down at the open pages.

“Can I see?” she asked.

Evie handed the book over to her, and Mal started leisurely flipping through it, scanning the passages.

“Here’s a part that I like,” Mal said, before reading aloud herself. “In this kingdom where we now are, there lives a princess, who is so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the world, and forgotten them too, although she is so clever.

Evie thought her cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

“You like that part?” she questioned.

“I like that part,” Mal nodded, turning some more pages. “…And this one, too. But Gerda and Kay went hand-in-hand towards home; and as they advanced, spring appeared more lovely with its green verdure and it’s beautiful flowers. The roses out on the roof were in full bloom, and peeped in at the window; and there stood the little chairs, on which they had sat when children. Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair, and held each other by the hand, while the cold empty grandeur of the Snow Queen’s palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream.

Evie laid her head on top of Mal’s, eyes growing heavy, fighting them open just long enough to take over and read the last sentence on the last page.

“And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s eyes, and they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart; and it was summer—warm, beautiful summer.”

Evie gave in then, letting her eyes fall shut and the pull of sleep take her over completely, speaking her next words through blissfully murmured lips.

“…Yeah, Mal.  I like that part too.”

anonymous asked:

What books would modern day Belle be into?

I think she would read a variety of genres, but mostly a lot of fantasy and science fiction. She seems to enjoy stories about adventure (“far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise”) that the pragmatic villagers consider frivolous, which could mean that a modern Belle would like fantasy stories that the literary community doesn’t take as seriously as art.

She also expresses a liking for mystery and dramatic irony in stories (“here’s where she meets Prince Charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him ‘til chapter three!”) and a touch of romance if it’s done well, so I think modern Belle would also look for some of that in her favorite novels.

Obviously, she would enjoy the popular fantasy series like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Here are some other titles that I think she might keep on her bookshelf:

  • A Wrinkle in Time
  • Fahrenheit 451
  • Frankenstein
  • The Handmaid’s Tale
  • The Princess Bride
  • The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
  • Howl’s Moving Castle
  • Sabriel

Modern Adam, on the other hand. She catches him reading this really melodramatic romantic adaptation of Guinevere and Lancelot (you know, like some sort of historical Nicholas Sparks-esque novel) and in his embarrassment he insists THERE’S BLOOD AND SWORDS AND SHIT, I SWEAR, IT’S NOT A ROMANCE.

(it’s totally a romance)

(it made him cry)

of ribbons & rosin ( cs au )

Plot: Killian is a single father, and his daughter is enrolled in Emma’s dance class. He has nobody to watch his daughter after class, and he’s often late, so Emma usually sits and talks to the girl until she is collected from the dance school.

Chapter 6, Captain Swan AU, Rating M.

read it on a03

As they rode the journey to Emma’s apartment, in the back of the taxi, the tension between them was so intense, Emma felt as though she could easily slice through it with a knife. The driver continued to glance at them through his rear-view mirror, ensuring they weren’t getting too hot and heavy in his back seat, and making a mess of his Scotch guard. He was the kind of the driver who would toss them out for a little spot of heavy petting; an old-school guy, from the Bronx or Manhattan, or Queens, at least that’s what had been derived from his accent.

Emma stared out of the window at her side, watching as the city whizzed by in a blur of lights and streaks of outlines. She could barely make out anything, the city she knew so well, and none of it was making sense to her in that moment. There were thoughts coursing through her mind at a mile a minute, almost as quickly as the city outside the cab. She made the mistake of glancing across at Killian; their eyes met, sparkling with the passing city lights, but focused only on one another.

Keep reading

Beauty and the Beast - Phan

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary:Beauty and the Beast - Once Upon A Time in a far away land, Prince Phil was turned into a hideous beast. The only way to restore him to his true form, was for someone to love him as he was. A few years later, a young man named Dan appears at his castle and is forced to stay only to end up falling in love with the beast.  (Alternat Universe/Fantasy)

A/N: Inspired by this  post  by lldanandphil , Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorite Disney movies and one of my favorite fairytales, and I hope I do it justice. While it is heavily inspired by the Disney version, there will be a few shoutouts and hints to other versions of the fairytale as well as my own twist to it.


”Once upon a time in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. Then one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose, in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearances, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. She warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within and when he dismissed her again her ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. 

As punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she’d offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom for many years. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell. Then the spell would be broken, if not he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the seasons past, he fell to despair and lost all hope. 

For who could learn to love a beast?”

“Is the Beast real ?” Asked ten year old Dan, looking up at the nursemaid resting in her rocking chair by the fire. The woman smiled and gently patted his head, the young boy was an orphan who’d been taken in by the lord of this castle. While he was clumsy, and had quite the mouth on him…he was also likable and sweet always coming to her for a tale before he slept. 

“Some say he is, after all there was a castle not far from here where there lived a prince. Unfortunately, the prince died a couple of years ago and the castle has laid in ruins…which is why people made up the legend of the beast. “ She explained, “It’s much better to imagine someone cursed than dead. Now get some sleep, you have plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

Dan groaned lightly, and laid down on the mat by the fire. It usually left him with cinders and ashes on his face, but at least he was nice and warm. His brown eyes looked at the fire, as he thought about the prince..what must that have been like, to be human one minute and turned into a beast another? Did he get lonely up there in that castle, all by himself? The people in the village knew of the abandoned castle deep in the forest. While many tried to go and explore it, only few returned. No one  else dared to venture into the forest, due to the ogres and wolves roaming around, as well as the beast that haunted the woods said to be the prince. 

Still..one day..he would go there. 

14 Years Later

Dan sat on the barrel, entranced in the latest book he’d gotten. It was a fairytale, of course it was. Everything happened in fairytales, daring swordfights, magic spells, princes in disguise. Nothing happened here, in the small village…sure the Lord who owned this land, and who’d taken him in held fabulous balls and feasts….which only the rich could go to. Still, Dan would much rather spend the day reading a good book. Especially today, when hardly anyone came to buy their wares. They did have to sell eggs and other food for money of their own. He sighed and looked up at the castle far off in the distance. 

“Ah, well isn’t this pleasant. “ Said a voice that immediately brought him out of his thoughts. He smiled forcefully, at the tall dark haired man, standing before him. 

“Baron.” Said Dan curtly. “What brings you to our land.”

“Simply here to escort his lordship, the doddering old fool. One of the only things he did right was, taking you in and allowing me to gaze upon you.” Said the Baron, Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head before closing his book. 

“Are you here to buy something sir?” He asked. 

“No, you know my usual question…and you have yet to give me the correct answer.” Said the Baron, 

“My answer still stands, it may not be the answer you want to hear but it’s still an answer. No, I will not marry you or go away with you as I don’t love you or have any feelings towards you whatsoever. Especially since you just called the man who took me in and gave me a home a doddering old fool” Explained Dan, making the Baron chuckle in response. 

“Love, who said anything about that? I am the most handsome Baron in the Kingdom and, well…you certainly are very good looking as well…we would be quite the pair Dan.” Said the Baron, Dan knitted his brow and tried hard to be polite. 

“Um…thanks but…I’m still going to have to say no. Honestly though you have a very, very high opinion of yourself and I need to get back to work. So if you’ll please excuse me.” Said Dan, as he turned to go back to the  stand where Jack, Louise, Jim, Dean, and Tanya were. At least with them, he felt much safer than being here with the Baron, who would look at him with those cold blue eyes. 

“Very well then but..my offer still stands Dan, and I won’t give up. Even if you’re a bit odd, your looks make up for that.” He replied, before walking away. Dan shook his head and headed back with the others. 

chapter 2

Fanfiction | Loki x Reader : Beauty and the Beast [Chapter 1]

Once upon a time, in a distant realm, a young god lived in a shining palace. Although he had everything his heart desired, the god was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. One winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the palace, and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the god sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. She warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. When he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The god tried to persuade her, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a mortal, and banished him and his palace to a mortal realm. Filled with rage and plans for vengeance, the former god concealed himself inside his palace, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside realms. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a mortal for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope… for who could ever learn to love the god of mischief?


“… hmm…?”

“Earth to (Y/N). Hellooooo? Anybody in there?”

You gradually peeled your gaze away from the words on the pages before you, feeling your friend’s knuckles rapping into the side of your skull. You directed an unamused glare upwards into her impatiently grinning face.

Keep reading



  • Belle is NOT odd because she is able to READ; Belle is considered ODD because she PREFERS to read rather than to socialize

From Belle song, the townsfolk comment on her dreamy and self-isolating attitude while reading rather than her ability to read itself. Belle isn’t considered odd because she reads; Belle is considered odd because she is so immersed in her readings that she can subconsciously walk around a busy town without even looking up. The fact she can do this as well as the gossip about her suggest that this is usual behaviour. 

TOWNSFOLK: Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell? / Never part of any crowd / Cause her head’s up on some cloud / No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle! 


TOWNSFOLK: Look there she goes That girl is so peculiar! I wonder if she’s feeling well! / With a dreamy far-off look! / And her nose stuck in a book! / What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle! 

Personally, I would have expected more reaction from her being able to read because, in this time, people - let alone those in her demographic - wouldn’t have had a basic education. Reading wouldn’t have been as common and even less for young women in poor provincial towns… but this ‘ability to read’ isn’t particularly addressed. (Even Gaston focuses on how it’s not “right” for a woman to read because, rather than fawning over him, she may engage in that dangerous pastime of thinking, rather than the concept of a woman’s ability to read) 

What is addressed is that preference to read. Belle wanting to read and not wanting to socialize is different than what would be expected of her. This mentality of woman-become-wife-and-mother is near-universally accepted in this town as people actually prepared the wedding before a successful proposal. Thus, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Blonde trio’s and Gaston’s mentality were the norm: a young woman should aspire to marry and become a housewife. 

GASTON: You know, Belle. There’s not a girl in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. This is the day… This is the day your dreams come true. 

BELLE: What do you know about my dreams, Gaston? 

GASTON: Plenty. Here, picture this. A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire, and my little wife, massaging my feet, while the little ones play with the dogs. We’ll have six or seven. 


(…after she rejects him…) 

BELLE: Madame Gaston, can’t you just see it Madame Gaston, his little wife Not me, no sir, I guarantee it I want much more than this provincial life. I want adventure in the great wide somewhere I want it more than I can tell And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they’ve got planned 

Therefore, overall, Belle is odd because preferring to read rather than socializing with the townsfolk and living the provincial life which is expected of her. 


  • Belle is NOT the only one who CAN read; OTHERS can read.

A logistical argument about a small bookstore existing in “poor provincial town”: if Belle was the only customer then it wouldn’t be able to survive; not to mention Belle seems to use it as a library (=by borrowing books rather than paying). So I think it’s okay to assume others could read and could afford books even if we never do see them reading. 

As mentioned above, Belle reading in itself wasn’t odd so I would think that others reading in itself wouldn’t be odd either. 


  • I do not know if Belle ONLY reads FAIRY TALES or if she has read EVERYTHING; I do believe that Belle is very WELL-READ

This is a compromise of two extremes. 

Firstly, Belle’s favourite genre seems to be fairy tales. 

BELLE: I just finished [addition: in one day] the most wonderful story, about a beanstalk and an ogre and… 


BOOKSELLER: That one? But you’ve read it twice! 

BELLE: Well it’s my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!  

Living in poor provincial town in old France, she is understandably logistically unable to physically pursue her desire for adventures. I believe the reason we don’t see very much practical application of her trying to accomplish her desires is because such things just weren’t available and she lacked the resources to make it happen. 

Thus she reads to mentally have adventures with her well-developed imagination. Because fairy tales provide the escape she needs, they are her favourite genre. (Similar rationale goes for her favourite part of her favourite fairy tale: she likes the romance because her life doesn’t have that companionship) 

When she goes to the bookstore, there is this dialogue: 

BOOKSELLER: Finished already? 

BELLE: Oh, I couldn’t put it down! Have you got anything new? 

(Belle’s action: focused on two shelves and only looking the titles/spines of books implying she’s remembers them and has read them) 

BOOKSELLER: Not since yesterday. 

Does this “anything new” refer to books she hasn’t read in general implying she’s read everything in the library or just books in her preferred (and related) genre implying primarily reads fairy tales? 

Now, Belle seems to me the kind of person who would read “anything” that she can get her hands on. “Anything” being something which interests her. For example, I don’t particularly see her engaged (or as engaged) in textbooks or academic journals because their content wouldn’t particular satisfy her motivation (=want for adventure) to read. For all I know, her father’s engineering/inventing attitude may have prompted a secret love for the sciences but, to avoid speculation, we just don’t know for it’s not shown in the movie. 

Anyways, as such, I think she has read some non-fiction but returns to her love of fiction. 

Every day thousands and thousands and thousands of orcs get up and go back to work at the Blackrock Foundry, crafting weapons capable of mass destruction on a terrifying, global scale for the Iron Horde

There are the higher ranking orcs who oversee the operations, break up fights, start fights, and discipline those that are slacking off, and there are the peons, every day orc dudes just trying to make a “living” where “living” equals “not being horribly murdered while doing menial chores like carry this rock to that corner over there why because big orc say so that why”

and then there’s Harold

Harold is off hiding by a wall all by himself. His name isn’t really Harold, he’s just another orc peon. But Harold dreams of something bigger. Harold knows how to read. Harold lets his imagination take him to far off lands, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise

He wants adventure in that great wide somewhere

He wants it more than he can tell

And for once it might be grand

To have someone understand

He wants more than serving for Blackhand

For astroize’s royalty au!! This is Dean and Sam playing dragon slayer and dragon! Sam’s props are all made by Sam with bits of wood and extra fabric from around the castle, plus one big sheet for fake wings. The AU is amazing and full of beautiful things and I love it so I had to draw for it and want to draw more shut up it’s late and I like run on sentences also this

External image

Beauty and the Beast - Stiles Stilinski: Part One


Y/N, a kind, gentile girl. She was always respectful and never dared to say anything rude to another human being. Her father always told her to be nice to everyone, rich or poor.

She was browsing a local book store when she heard the bell on top of the door chime. No one ever came in this shop, it was an old store ran by an elderly man. Y/N turned around in confusion, finding a very familiar face. It was the Prince, his name was Stiles. Stiles had brown hair that was always groomed to perfection. His teeth were white and straight, and whenever he smiled, the girls would sigh and bat their eyelashes. Prince Stiles had pale skin with moles scattered around his face, someone had said they counted thirteen moles on his face.

Prince Stiles smiled at Y/N, then continued to walk through the isles of books. Y/N went back to her browsing, forgetting royalty was only a few feet away. Y/N really didn’t fawn over Prince Stiles like the other girls, yes he was quite attractive, and yes he was very kind, but Y/N knew he would marry a princess and not a villager.

She scanned the dusty bookshelves for the book she was looking for, but she couldn’t find it.

“Excuse me,” Y/N said to the man behind the counter.

“Ah, Y/N nice to see you again.” He smiled, eyes crinkling.

“As to you.” She returned the smile. “I really want to re-read the book I had only a couple of months ago. It’s the one with the far off places, daring swordfights,
magic spells, a prince in disguise. Oh my, it was a wonderful book!” She exclaimed. Someone cleared their throat behind Y/N.

“Is this the book you were looking for Miss?” It was Prince Stiles. He held out a brown hard cover book. Y/N gasped.

“It is! Thank you so much.” She curtsied before taking the book out of his hand. “How can I repay you? I haven't any money on me at this moment, but-”

“No money needed. Just tell me your name.” Stiles smiled.

“My name?” Y/N asked shocked. The Prince simply nodded. “My name is Y/N.” She told him.     

“It is a pleasure to meet you Y/N.” Stiles said as he grabbed her hand and kissed it lightly. Y/N blushed. “Would you like to sit somewhere and talk?” He asked her.

“Oh um, I’m sure you have more important things to do than talk to someone like me.” Y/N said.

“I would love to get to know you more Y/N.” Stiles smiled.

“Well then, I would gladly accept, Prince Stiles.”

“Call me Stiles.” He said, the smile never leaving his face.

They talked. They walked. Time flew by faster than ever. The Prince turned out to be just as normal as Y/N, and she felt like she had known him her whole life. Slowly, Y/N felt herself falling for Stiles, not Stiles the Prince, but Stiles the boy who nobody got a chance to see.

The night was approaching quickly. Stiles and Y/N continued to talk, they were sitting by a large stone fountain as a violin player played softly for all the passing people. The stars began to light up the night sky, meaning the both of them needed to be home soon.

“Oh my goodness, we’ve spent the whole day talking!” Y/N exclaimed, laughing a little. “I must be home soon, or my father will be worried.”

“Mine will be too.” Stiles sighed. "But before we go our separate ways,“ he said, "will you give me the chance to dance under the stars with a beautiful girl?” He asked, extending his hand.

“Certainly.” Y/N smiled, taking his hand and immediately starting to flow with the violin sounds. The danced and danced. All of the villagers stopped to watch Y/N and Prince Stiles. The song finished. Stiles bowed as Y/N curtsied.

“Promise me this won’t be the last time I see you.” Stiles whispered, taking Y/N’s hands in his.

“I promise Stiles.” Y/N smiled lightly. The best day of her life was coming to an end.

Part Two - http://twandtwdimagines.tumblr.com/post/115576357757/beauty-and-the-beast-stiles-stilinski-part-two