#grimmsintro

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL  NAME: [  LEOPOLD VON WEISSHAUPT  ] ALSO KNOWN AS: [  SNOW WHITE  ] NICKNAME: [  SNOW, LEO  ] AGE: [  35  ] GENDER/PRONOUNS:  [  MALE, HE/HIM  ] ORIENTATION: [  HOMOSEXUAL  ] SPECIES: [  HUMAN (PROBABLY)  ] FAIRY TALE CONNECTION: [  SNOW WHITE  ] OCCUPATION (PRE-CURSE): [ PRINCE, SERVANT, REFUGEE, WARRIOR, KING ] OCCUPATION (CURSE/PELLAR TOWN): [  VET  ] ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION: [  HOMOROMANTIC  ] SEXUAL  ORIENTATION: [  HOMOSEXUAL  ] SEXUAL  TEMPERAMENT: [  SUBMISSIVE-LEANING  ] SEXUAL  POSITION: [  BOTTOM  ]

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒

SIGNIFICANT  OTHER: [  FLORIAN D'CHARMONT  ] CHILDREN:  [  NONE (YET?)  ] PARENTS: [ FRANZ + CHARLOTTE  ] SIBLINGS: [ 1 (HALF-BROTHER) ] FRIENDS: [  THE HUNTSMAN, TBA  ]

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

FACE  CLAIM: [  LUKE THOMPSON  ] EYE  COLOUR: [  GREY/BLUE + GREEN  ] HAIR  COLOUR: [  BROWN  ] HEIGHT: [  5'11  |  1.80  METRES  ] BODY  BUILD: [  ATHLETIC,  LEAN, TONED  ] FACIAL  HAIR:  [  NAH.  ] TATTOOS  +  PIERCINGS:  [ SECRET. ] NOTABLE  PHYSICAL  TRAITS: [  PALE SKIN AND BRIGHT/SHARP (YET KIND) EYES. A FEW FAINT SCARS FROM TRAINING AND WARRING WITH THE EVIL KING. ]

𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒

PHOBIAS/FEARS: [  BEING ABANDONED. BEING BETRAYED BY LOVED ONES. DARKNESS. CLAUSTROPHOBIA  ] MENTAL  DISORDERS: [ PTSD. MILD OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. ]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

INTELLIGENCE: [  115  IQ.  ] MYER-BRIGGS: [  INFJ   ] LIKES: [  ANIMALS. COOKING/BAKING. CLEANING. BOOKS. SPENDING TIME WITH LOVED ONES.  ] DISLIKES: [  CRUELTY. VIOLENCE. ANIMALS SUFFERING. DISHONESTY. CONFLICT. BEING TRAPPED.  ] POSITIVE  ATTRIBUTES:  [  COMPASSIONATE,  CHARMING,  PATIENT,  OBSERVANT  ] NEGATIVE  ATTRIBUTES:  [  HESITANT,  SELF-SACRIFICIAL,  IDEALISTIC,  STUBBORN-  ]

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

AESTHETICS: [  PALE SKIN GLOWING IN WINTER LIGHT. RAVEN HAIR BRUSHED BY FOREST BREEZES. OBSERVANT EYES TRACKING EVERY MOVEMENT. CALLUSED HANDS STROKING FUR OR LEAVES. SCARRED FOREARM FROM BATTLES PAST. THE Scent OF EARTH AND FRESH SNOW. QUIET FOOTSTEPS ON FROSTED PATHS. SOFT VOICE CALMING FEARFUL CREATURES. LETTERS SMUGGLED BY RAVENS. HIDDEN SMILES FULL OF LOVE. SUNLIGHT THROUGH TOWER WINDOWS. AN APPLE SLICED SLOWLY ON A COUNTER. WARM TEA STEAMING AGAINST THE COLD. FOREST CREATURES GATHERING NEAR. THE PATTER OF HOOVES AND PADS ON DIRT. HEART BEATING WITH LOYALTY AND CARE. LOVE HELD QUIET. A KINGDOM LOST AND RECLAIMED. A CURSE LINGERING LIKE FROST ON SKIN.   ] INSPO: [  BREATHE ME (SIA). DOG DAYS ARE OVER (FLORENCE+THE MACHINE). IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE (HOZIER). CASTLE ON THE HILL (ED SHEERAN). CHASING CARS (SNOW PATROL). BELIEVER (IMAGINE DRAGONS).  ]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

KINKS: [  VANILLA. PRAISE.  BREEDING.  HAIR PULLING.  VERBAL  FEMINISATION.  NIPPLE PLAY.  WORSHIP.  CHOKING (ONLY FLORIAN).  CONSENSUAL  SOMNOPHILIA.  COCKWARMING.  AFFECTION.  GENTLE.  BEING  USED. SKIN TO SKIN CONTACT. PROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE DYNAMICS (BE HIS KNIGHT OR OWN HIM TY). PET PLAY (I CAN EXPLAIN!). EXHIBITIONISM. TEASING/DENIAL.   ] ANTI-KINKS: [  VORE.  SCAT. VIOLENCE. BLOOD PLAY.   ]

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

once,  in  the  midst  of  a  winter  storm,  a  child  was  born  to  a  king  and  queen.  his  skin  was  pale  as  snow,  his  lips  soft  as  rose  petals,  and  his  hair  as  dark  as  raven’s  wings.  and  because  of  that  night,  and  the  storm  that  raged  outside  his  first  cries,  he  was  named  snow  white.

the  kingdom  into  which  he  was  born  was  one  of  peace  and  generosity,  ruled  with  kindness  by  his  parents.  snow  grew  amidst  song  and  laughter,  beloved  by  all  who  saw  him.  and  in  those  bright  days  of  boyhood,  he  found  a  companion  in  prince  florian  from  a  neighboring  land.  the  boys  became  fast  friends,  bound  by  secrets  whispered  in  castle  corridors  and  bright  laughter  in  the  castle  halls.  together  they  formed  a  bond  that  seemed  unshakable.

but  joy  is  fragile  and  when  snow  was  but  ten,  sorrow  fell:  his  mother,  the  gentle  queen,  grew  ill  and  passed  from  the  world.  the  king,  stricken  with  grief,  opened  his  heart  too  quickly  to  a  new  suitor—a  handsome  nobleman  named  grimhilde  who  came  visiting  their  kingdom  from  far  away.  for  a  short  time  it  seemed  as  though  light  might  return  to  the  halls,  until  the  king  was  murdered  and  grimhilde  seized  the  throne  for  himself,  ruling  with  cruelty  and  fear.

snow  was  spared  his  life,  but  stripped  of  his  freedom.  the  boy-prince  became  little  more  than  a  servant  in  his  own  castle,  watched  and  used  like  a  pawn.  for  years  he  endured,  comforted  only  by  the  secret  letters  he  smuggled  to  florian,  carried  by  faithful  ravens.  yet  secrets  do  not  last  forever.

when  snow  was  sixteen,  grimhilde  discovered  the  letters.  enraged,  he  locked  the  boy  away  in  the  tower.  and  when  the  enchanted  mirror  whispered  that  the  young  prince  had  grown  fairer  than  the  king  himself,  jealousy  turned  to  hatred.  the  huntsman  was  summoned  to  carve  out  snow’s  heart.

but  the  huntsman,  moved  by  pity  and  knowing  of  the  kindness  and  grace  in  the  young  prince's  heart,  defied  his  orders.  he  let  him  go.  snow  fled  and  ran  into  the  dark  forest,  a  place  of  danger  and  despair.  alone  and  lost,  the  boy  wandered  for  days  until  the  creatures  of  the  wood  guided  him  to  a  hidden  cottage,  home  to  seven  dwarves,  who  took  him  in.

it  was  there,  deep  in  the  forest,  that  florian  found  him  again  some  time  later.  reunited,  the  boys—now  nearly  men—saw  in  each  other  more  than  friendship.  snow’s  heart  beat  faster  for  him,  though  neither  dared  to  speak  the  truth  aloud,  not  when  survival  and  the  fate  of  kingdoms  pressed  heavier  than  longing.  still,  their  bond  grew—quiet,  fierce  and  unshakable  once  more. together  they  defied  the  soldiers  who  came  hunting.

at  last,  grimhilde  came  himself,  cloaked  in  deception.  disguised  as  the  very  man  who  stole  the  young  prince's  heart,  he  brought  snow  a  gift:  a  single  red  apple.  one  bite  and  snow  white  fell  as  if  dead.

he  was  laid  in  a  coffin  of  glass  and  gold,  crafted  by  the  dwarves  themselves.  and  when  florian  returned  from  seeking  aid  back  home  and  the  dwarves  told  him  of  the  prince's  fate,  he  wept.  his  grief  was  so  deep,  his  kiss  so  true,  that  snow  stirred  once  more,  awakened  by  the  power  of  true  love.

together  they  rose.  side  by  side,  they  fought  on.

the  war  that  followed  lasted  years.  grimhilde’s  power  had  spread  far  and  deep,  his  sorcery  rotting  the  land  until  the  fields  lay  black  and  the  rivers  stilled.  snow  and  florian  were  young  and  untested,  yet  they  stood  against  him.  and  they  were  not  alone:  the  creatures  of  the  forest,  the  very  life  of  the  earth  itself,  rose  to  their  side,  as  did  the  people  of  their  once  beautiful  kingdom.  like the huntsman, who chose to fight side by side with them, offering not only his support, but also his vast knowledge to their cause. wherever  snow  walked,  flowers  broke  through  ash  and  dying  trees  bent  to  shield  him.  slowly,  painfully,  they  won  back  piece  after  piece  of  their  home  until  grimhilde  was  cast  down,  exiled  forever  and  his  dark  reign  broken.

snow  and  florian  rebuilt  the  kingdom,  though  it  was  a  long  road:  years  of  patient  tending,  of  coaxing  life  back  into  earth  that  had  forgotten  how  to  bloom.  yet  in  time,  green  returned  and  hope  with  it.  they  ruled  as  one,  their  love  no  longer  hidden.

and  for  a  time,  there  was  peace.  for  a  time,  there  was  love.

but  fairy  tales  are  cruel  things.  just  as  happily-ever-after  settled  over  their  lives,  a  curse  fell  upon  the  land.

nowadays,  leopold  weisshaupt  spends  his  days  tending  to  the  animals  of  pellar  town  …  the  quiet  veterinarian  who  seems  to  understand  them  better  than  most  people  understand  themselves.  he  keeps  to  his  practice  during  the  day,  the  smell  of  hay  and  antiseptic  mingling  in  the  air,  the  soft  padding  of  paws  a  constant  companion  …  and  he  likes  it  that  way.  people  stop  by  for  care,  but  few  pry  into  the  man  himself  …  and  leopold  prefers  it  that  way.  there  is  a  gentleness  in  him,  a  steady  patience  that  draws  stray  and  frightened  creatures  alike  …  and  something  in  the  way  he  carries  himself  hints  at  a  life  lived  with  care,  though  no  one  would  guess  the  echoes  of  a  far  grander  story  hidden  just  beneath  the  surface.

basics ;;

◇ full name: ulric / richard hartwin . ◇ age: fifty-one . ◇ gender: cis male . ◇ pronouns: he / him . ◇ species: human . ◇ position: royal huntsman / livestock farmer. ◇ civil status: single . ◇ language: english . ◇ romantic orientation: bisexual . ◇ sexual orientation: bisexual . ◇ sexual temperament: service . ◇ sexual position: versatile, prefers topping .

relationships ;;

◇ parents: brandon ( father, diseased ), jayne ( mother, diseased ) . ◇ significant others: none . ◇ children: none .

physical traits ;;

◇ face claim: sean bean . ◇ eye colour: forest green . ◇ hair: light brown wavy hair, down to his shoulders . ◇ height: five feet, ten and a half inches . ◇ body build: stocky, broad of shoulders, of soft stomach and chest. muscular arms and legs to match . ◇ facial/body hair: a closely trimmed beard, grown thicker only when winter nears. a honey brown carpet of fur that grows across his arms, legs, chest and stomach, reaching all the way to his shoulders and back. dense, unkempt patches on armpits and pubes . ◇ tattoos + piercings: none . ◇ notable physical traits: a round face with droopy eyes, sharp nose, a strikingly stern glare, calloused fingers with often dirty nails, scars scattered across his body .

hopes and fears ;;

◇ dreams: for ulric; to live a peaceful life on his own, having avenged the death of his father at the hands of the big bad wolf; for richard, pretty much the same - the first half, that is. ◇ phobias/fears: the wrath of the evil king . ◇ mental disorders: none .

personality ;;

◇ intelligence: intrapersonal, for he knows himself and what he is all about. a humble man, not noble of blood but of spirit, with a moral code that is clear and unwavering. spatial, ever aware of his surroundings, whether to find his way across the deep woods or stay on guard from any incoming danger. and naturalist, by virtue of living most of his life in the wild, connecting to both flora and fauna with ease. ◇ likes: peace and quiet, hunting, archery, leathercraft, hikes, mead, roasted beef, bread and butter, the dawn, a good night's sleep, a cosy open fire, cloudy days, dandelions / cooking, car repairing, taking care of his animals, rock, blues, action flicks, camping, stargazing, bbq sauce, cold beer, black coffee, morning jogs, football season, leather jackets. ◇ dislikes: wolves, distractions, disturbances, lack of morals, injustice, tyranny, extremes, thunderstorms, heights, cooking, large crowds, strong scents, splinters / predators, debts, urbanisation, housework, loud neighbours, ignorance. ◇ alignment: lawful neutral. ◇ positive attributes: just, honorable, compassionate, loyal, protective, kind, clever, self-sufficient, prudent, savvy, decisive, bold, humble, logical . ◇ negative attributes: self-righteous, aloof, resentful, assertive, narrow-minded, prejudiced, critical .

combat ;;

◇ weapons of choice: bow and arrow, dagger, axe, little experience with the sword and spear . ◇ powers: brute force, quick aim .

aesthetics ;;

◇ aesthetics: a thick piece of wolf pelt on a cape wrapped around broad shoulders, a worn-out elm bow tensed at the string and ready to shoot its arrow, the sound of dry leaves cracking underneath muddy leather boots, a burning fireplace in a stone-cold chamber, a blood-stained dagger resting on a wooden table, hoofprints pressed across a lonesome path / a fuming grill with meat cuts sizzling on top, an open toolbox with oil prints all over the metal, worn-out t-shirts of long past concerts, the sound of animals waking up to a sunny morning, the wagging tail of a shepherd dog, an empty bag of diner takeout sitting on the kitchen table, a tv screen with some old show rerun playing . ◇ inspo: the brothers grimm's little snow white and its disney adaptation from 1937 .

kinks ;;

◇ kinks: power play, praise, body worship, kissing, blowjobs, rimming, biting/marking, nipple play, armpits, musk, frotting, fingering, impact play, breeding, outdoor sex, bath sex, hair pulling, restraining, sensory deprivation . ◇ anti-kinks: degradation, humiliation, watersports, scat .

background ;;

　　— and as she was so lovely, the huntsman had pity on her and said, "run away, then, you poor child." the wild beasts will soon have devoured you, thought he, and yet it seemed as if a stone had been rolled from his heart, since it was no longer needful for him to kill her…　

　　ulric had been born a huntsman. 　　his father, a lowborn man who went by the name of brandon, had raised the boy with a dagger in hand, as did his father, and his father before him. following the lineage of trustful huntsmen that had served the royal house for generations. brandon took care of the boy all by himself, for the mother had passed in childbirth. little ulric was all that was left of her, and so brandon treated him as his biggest treasure. 　　with nothing but a humble stone hut to their name, father and son grew older together, ulric becoming a formidable archer by the time he turned fifteen. brandon was beyond proud, and had promised his son that one day, he'd be ready to handle his old man's shotgun. 　　unfortunately, the day would never come. 　　brandon hed left on a mission, to rid a nearby village of the threat that was the big bad wolf - a beast unlike any other, they said, a merciless creature who hunted innocent people to satisfy its hunger. the huntsman embraced his son tightly, promising him he'd be back before he could even tell. days became weeks, then months, then a year had went on and there were no news of brandon. ulric was determined to go out and find him before a guard came knocking to his door to deliver him the news. 　　the wolf had ravaged the village, dozens of half-eaten corpses spread across the townsquare. and, as if to mock ulric himself, the monster had taken care of his father in a especially morbid way. the body was found at the bottom of a nearby cliff, cracked skull, every bone broken. his flesh serving as fodder to the vultures. all the royal guards could offer ulric were their condolences, his father's bloodied clothes, and a dented shotgun. 　　his broken heart could only be mended by the loving memory of his father. ulric would honor him, taking the mantle of royal huntsman and bending the knee to his king at the young age of sixteen. a new prince had been born, the peaceful kingdom thrived - yet ulric knew no peace would be truly achieved until the threat of that wolf, that monster was eradicated. it had become his life mission to rid the kingdom of its evil. naively unaware that not long after, a greater evil would take over the throne.

　　the good king was dead, and the kingdom had fallen into the cruel hands of the king consort, lord grimhilde. ulric, then older and wiser, had not taken any foolish risks. he didn't escape, and remained loyal to the crown in word only, for his heart would always be faithful to the house his father served. and as such, he made sure to look after the one beacon of hope the realm had - snow white. he'd bring the young prince furs to endure the winters, leather shoes and other necessities his stepfather wouldn't allow him. ulric even taught him all he had once learned from his own father, from archery to the very basics of sword-fighting. he'd be no knight of the realm, but he would need to know how to defend himself. 　　perhaps grimhilde had become aware of their bond, for the day he summoned ulric to the throne room his orders were clear - he was to bring him snow white's heart in a chest, murder the boy as he picked flowers in the glen. ulric felt sick to his stomach as he bowed to accept the command given to him, even if he knew it would never come to happen. 　　there, in the deepness of the woods, ulric ordered his prince to flee, hide away anywhere where the tyrant king couldn't find him. and just as snow white ran, so did ulric. once he gave the chest to the king, a boar's heart inside it, the man took what he could from his hut and rode his horse away. for a time he became a hermit, living in an abandoned cottage, surviving on whatever he could hunt or trade. it wasn't until the whispers of a beautiful young prince laying asleep in a glass coffin came to him that he could find his prince once more, awaken and determined to take his kingdom back. 　　the war was fought and won, the huntsman returning to the castle to serve his kings after everything they had gone through. he could have been granted a position in the kingsguard, but ulric wanted no more glory than he had before. he went back to his hut, placed his sword next to the old shotgun, and continued living the life he intended to have. only ever vigilant of a big bad wolf... 　　but that would have been too easy.

✧ ˚₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧

　　richard hartwin's life had to be a wild one. blurry visions from an unclear past that involved college parties, a rocker phase, a not-so-great relationship with authority. too much weed at an early age, or early alzheimer? richard wasn't sure, and neither was his doctor. not that it mattered, he sure as hell wasn't stepping into a therapist office, he wasn't crazy or any of that nonsense. he was just old, and what is an old man but a little forgetful? he had old pictures, the memories were there if he just scratched a little harder. 　　his days were always the same, waking up at dawn to take care of the hartwin family farm. pellar's number one animal product supplier, from eggs to dairy to the finest cuts of meat. every so often, having made sure his workers are on duty and everything else is in check, he drives his old truck to town to do the deliveries himself, always accompanied by his german shepherd and local good boy, don. 　　he might grab something for lunch at the diner with that dashing owner, bring some animal in need to the ever so gentle vet, nothing too unusual unless it's a special kind of friday and he wants to get himself drunk silly at the pub. other than that, quite frankly, he knows no better place than his couch.

wanted connections ;;

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃…

NAME: bowen buckley; bambi AGE: twenty three (23) GENDER: cisgender male OCCUPATION: town hall receptionist, part-time park ranger; "the prince of the forest" RESIDENCE: pellar's town, conneticut

𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓈…

SEXUALITY: homosexual ROMANTIC INCLINATION: homoromantic FAMILY: none FRIENDS: snow, red, the three little pigs, ronno, the seven dwarfs, thumper, flower, faline; open to plots and connections PLEASE. (some ideas: friends with benefits in pellar's town, men that use him for a quick lay but aren't actually friends or close with him, actual friends, rivals, etc...)

𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈…

POSITIONING: bottom BEHAVIOR: submissive, switch SIZE: four and a half inches (4.5") SWEET SPOTS: the sides of his neck, his collarbones, his chest, his palms, and the top/back of his head to name a few SOME KINKS: roughness, dominant partners/partners being in control, breeding, knotting, public displays/outdoors, facials, etc... ANTI-KINKS: diaper play, age regression, vore, gore, scat

BAMBI, 'THE PRINCE OF THE FOREST'; 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉…

considered  the  “prince  of  the  forest”  bambi  did  his  best  to  not  only  make  a  home  for  himself  in  the  black  forest  but  also  a  home  for  any  that  made  their  way  into  the  safety  of  the  woods.  that  was  the  key  part,  though.  the  safety  of  the  woods.  everywhere  had  it's  dangers,  and  it's  threats,  but  bambi  did  his  best  to  protect  his  own  and  any  poor  soul  that  found  themselves  lost  among  the  magic  and  the  thick  maze  of  trees. despite  his  efforts  he  always  considered  himself  to  be  inadequate.  he  felt  as  if  the  kingdoms  on  either  side  of  the  black  forest  didn't  regard  or  consider  him  as  an  actual  prince,  as  an  equal,  and  he  feared  that  even  his  own  friends,  the  people  that  called  the  forest  home,  didn't  even  consider  him  worthy  of  his  title;  that  they  didn't  believe  in  him.  he  often  put  himself  in  harms  way,  more  than  he  needed  too,  in  a  stubborn  and  desperate  attempt  to  earn  his  place  and  prove  his  worth  despite  the  fact  that  no  one,  aside  from  himself,  was  actually  questioning  him. when  things  started  to  change,  and  darkness  started  to  involve  itself  in  their  world,  he  did  his  best  to  help  snow  find  safety  with  the  seven  dwarfs--  he  tried  to  protect  the  other  were-creatures,  and  all  the  other's  living  within  the  black  forest--  but  he  was  naive  and  had  no  idea  just  how  dangerous  and  powerful  the  magics  they  were  going  up  against  were. no  idea  at  all.

BOWEN BUCKLEY; 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇'𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓉…

in  pellar's  town,  the  memories  of  his  true  self  lost  to  the  curse,  he  grew  into  a  very  quiet  and  reserved  young  man.  he  did  what  he  could  around  town  to  make  sure  everyone  was  taken  care  of  and  happy,  and  he  seemed  to  feel  most  at  home  when  he  was  wandering  through  the  surrounding  woods,  but  he  was  a  shell  of  who  he  used  to  be.  he  wasn't  curious  anymore,  he  wasn't  playful,  he  wasn't  full  of  life  and  spirit;  and  wonder.  bowen  didn't  hide  himself  away,  he  wasn't  a  recluse,  but  rather  than  having  a  staple  place  in  anyone's  lives  or  minds  he  let  himself  fade  into  the  background.  he  became  someone  that  was  always  there,  someone  that  anyone  and  everyone  could  rely  on,  but  someone  that  was  never  asked  for.  he  was  just…  there,  quietly  waiting  in  the  sidelines  for  people  to  remember  he  was  around  or  for  someone  to  consider  him  useful  for  once;  waiting  for  people  to  need  him;  to  want  him. needless  to  say,  it  was  a  bit  of  a  shock  to  his  system  when  the  curse  began  to  crack  and  his  memories  came  back. now  bowen  doesn't  know  what  to  believe. he  doesn't  know  who  he  is. he  doesn't  know  what  people  want  him  to  be.

𝕃𝕀ℕ𝕂𝕊: 𝓋𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 - 𝒶𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 - 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Personal

Name: Dr. Facilier, Samuel Baron

Age: 100, appears 35

Gender: male, he/him

Occupation: shadow man, professional intermediary

Orientation: queer

Relationships

Parental: parents unknown, Mama Odie (mentor)

Sibling: -

Friendship: -

Romantic/Sexual: -

Animosity: -

Sex

Position: Vers

D/s: Dom

Size: 9.5 inch

Kinks: bondage

Biography

Homelands | Facilier

Facilier never knew his birth parents. He only knew his mentor, Mama Odie. She taught him the way of the cards and eventually magic, but he wanted more power and left her when she refused to teach him.

Leaving the magic of the swamp, he mastered the art of the con before he was 20 and eventually found the key to a dark magic that helped him stop aging.

But what's immortality without entertainment or schemes? So he begins to find new cons or deals. Ones that may provide something for him in the future that even he doesn't know yet.

He helped a puppet remain a real boy. He turned a prince into a frog. And many more deals have been made in his long life even if not all have panned out how he desired.

Pellar's Town | Samuel Baron

Samuel grew up seeing the underside of the town. He hid in the shadows and learned to listen. He conned and stole what he could so he could build enough wealth and connections to become what he is today, the man people go to, to fix their problems, simple or sinister.

He owns some real estate around town, but his true wealth is the favors and promises others owe him, always on edge for the day he comes to collect.

While he's not as good with contracts as some people in town, he still knows how to trap people in deals that benefit himself more than them.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL  NAME: [  EZEKIEL LOPEZ  ] ALSO KNOWN AS: [  BIG BAD WOLF  ] NICKNAME: [  ZEKE, PUPPY ;)  ] AGE: [  48 ( 112 )  ] GENDER/PRONOUNS:  [  MALE, HE/HIM  ] ORIENTATION: [  HOMOSEXUAL  ] SPECIES: [  WEREWOLF-LIKE  ] FAIRY TALE CONNECTION: [  RED RIDING HOOD, THE WOODSMAN, THREE LITTLE PIGS, THREE LITTLE WOLVES ETC.  ] OCCUPATION (PRE-CURSE): [ KING OF THE FOREST ;) FOREST MENACE / VILLAIN ] OCCUPATION (CURSE/PELLAR TOWN): [  OWNER OF LUNA'S DINER + COOK  ] ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION: [  HOMOROMANTIC  ] SEXUAL  ORIENTATION: [  HOMOSEXUAL  ] SEXUAL  TEMPERAMENT: [  SUBMISSIVE BRAT  ] SEXUAL  POSITION: [  BOTTOM  ]

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒

SIGNIFICANT  OTHER: [  N/A  ] CHILDREN:  [  WHO KNOWS :P  ] PARENTS: [ UNKNOWN NOBLEMAN WEREWOLF + WOLF MAMA ] SIBLINGS: [ NONE, HE'S A SPECIAL UNICORN ] FRIENDS: [  NONE, HE HATES EVERYONE. (he's a liar).  ]

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

FACE  CLAIM: [  PEDRO  PASCAL  ] EYE  COLOUR: [  BROWN  ] HAIR  COLOUR: [  BROWN  ] HEIGHT: [  5'11  |  1.80  METRES  ] BODY  BUILD: [  ATHLETIC,  LEAN,  SLUTTY  WAIST  AND  BROAD  SHOULDERS, LIL BELLY AFTER A GOOD FEAST  ] FACIAL  HAIR:  [  LIGHT  BEARD  CENTRED  AROUND  THE  MOUTH,  EXTENDING  TO  THE  SIDE  OF  HIS  FACE  +  SEMI-SUBTLE  STACHE.  ] TATTOOS  +  PIERCINGS:  [ SECRET. ] NOTABLE  PHYSICAL  TRAITS: [  SCARS:  ONE  ACROSS  HIS  NOSE,  CUT UNDER HIS LEFT EYE DRAGGING UP TO HIS CHEEK, SMOL ONES, WILL SPORT FURRY EARS AND A TAIL ON OCCASION, CLAWS AND FANGS ALWAYS OUT. ]

𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒

PHOBIAS/FEARS: [  BEING + DYING ALONE.  ] MENTAL  DISORDERS: [ TRUST ISSUES GALORE.  CLAUSTROPHOBIA, PISANTROPHIA. ]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

INTELLIGENCE: [  110  IQ.  ] MYER-BRIGGS: [  ISTP   ] LIKES: [  THE FOREST, QUIET  PLACES,  SMALL  ANIMALS,  FOOD (MEAT),  HIS DINER, GOOD CHASES  ] DISLIKES: [  BAD WEATHER, STINK, PEOPLE (HEHE), VEGETARIANS/VEGANS, LOSING.  ] POSITIVE  ATTRIBUTES:  [  PROTECTIVE,  RESOURCEFUL,  STREETFOREST-CLEVER,  DETERMINED.  ] NEGATIVE  ATTRIBUTES:  [  DISTRUSTFUL,  WITHDRAWN,  HOSTILE,  GRUMPY, SELFISH, COMPETITIVE.  ]

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

AESTHETICS: [  MOONLIGHT ON DARK FUR. A DINER NEON SIGN FLICKERING AT MIDNIGHT. CLAWS STAINED WITH GREASE AND BLOOD. BOOTS RESTING BY THE FOREST EDGE. A TAIL CURLING AROUND A BARSTOOL. TEETH FLASHING BETWEEN A GRIN AND A GROWL. HOWLS ECHOING INTO EMPTY STREETS. THE SCENT OF COFFEE AND CIGARETTE SMOKE. SCARS LIKE MAPS WRITTEN ACROSS SKIN. EARS TWITCHING AT THE DOORBELL’S CHIME. THE FOREST ALWAYS CALLING. A BURGER SIZZLING ON THE GRILL. AMBER EYES THAT NEVER STOP WATCHING. LONELINESS HELD LIKE A SECRET. A LEGEND HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT.   ] INSPO: [  HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF (DURAN DURAN). BOYS  DON'T  CRY  (THE  CURE).  TO  BUILD  A  HOME  (THE  CINEMATIC  ORCHESTRA). ANIMAL I HAVE BECOME (THREE DAYS GRACE). HOWL (FLORENCE + THE MACHINE). ONCE UPON A DREAM (LANA DEL REY). HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN (THE ANIMALS).  ]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

KINKS: [  PRAISE.  SCENTS.  BREEDING.  HAIR PULLING.  PLAY WITH HIS EARS I DARE U.  VERBAL  FEMINISATION (!!).  NIPPLE PLAY.  WORSHIP (HIM; HE'S PRETTY LET HIM KNOW THAT. HE LIKES GIVING IT TOO, THO).  MARKING.  CHOKING (NEEDS TRUST).  CONSENSUAL  SOMNOPHILIA.  COCKWARMING.  AFFECTION.  COLLARS.  GENTLE.  BEING  USED. SKIN TO SKIN CONTACT. PET HIM. FOREST/DINER QUICKIES:  ] ANTI-KINKS: [  VORE.  SCAT. BLINDFOLDS. (NO TRUST).   ]

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

when  a  werewolf  &  an  actual  wolf  love  each  other  very  much...

that  could  only  go  wrong  &  everybody  with  common  sense  would  get  that,  but  not  the  parents  of  the  forest's  famous  little  wolf  boy.

once  upon  a  time  the  wolf  boy's  father  was  someone  important,  someone  the  people  knew,  so  his  condition;  if  self-afflicted  or  not,  had  been  kept  secret,  as  had  been  his  tryst  with  a  wolf  living  in  the  forest.  it  was  easy  enough  turning  away  from  a  wild  animal  once  his  mistakes  caught  up  to  him,  the  wolf  mother  couldn't  exactly  march  into  the  village  &  demand  to  see  the  father  of  her  unborn  pup.

how  the  werewolf  became  one  in  the  first  place?  nobody  knew.  nobody  had  ever  spoken  of  it.  maybe  it'd  been  the  wolf  itself  who  cursed  her  lover  so  he'd  come  back  to  her  -  even  if  only  during  the  full  moons.  some  say  she  missed  her  love  so  much  she  cried  at  the  moon  every  night  until  the  goddess  shed  a  tear  &  gifted  her  the  ability  to  turn  the  man  into  something  almost  like  herself  so  they  could  be  forever  together.

the  truth  would  forever  remain  a  mystery,  but  one  thing  was  clear  -  the  little  wolf  boy  was  not  the  first  &  yet  he  was,  because  none  of  his  older  siblings  survived.

the  big  bad  wolf  hadn't  always  been  big.  he  was  born  fragile  just  like  everybody  else:  deaf,  blind  &  helpless.  a  pup.  in  fact  he  didn't  shift  into  a  human  until  he  was  about  two  or  three  years  old,  at  which  point  he  was  stuck  human  in  a  world  that  knew  no  mercy  on  anybody  living  in  it.  his  mother  had  left  him  regularly,  always  trying  to  reunite  with  her  lover,  but  to  no  avail.  eventually  she  stopped  trying,  but  her  son's  appearance  ..  posed  a  problem.  not  only  did  he  remind  her  of  his  father,  but  he  was  also  a  burden.  slower.  weaker.  freezing  in  the  cold  without  his  furcoat.  she  dragged  him  along  as  long  as  she  could,  but  her  disappointment  was  obvious.

he'd  been  born  the  image  of  his  father  -  so  he  wasn't  all  wolf.  not  like  her.  full  moons  would  turn  him  back  momentarily,  but  for  some  reason  the  human  fragment  in  his  dna  kept  turning  him  back  human  eventually.  by  the  time  he  was  four,  she  didn't  come  home  anymore  -  their  cave  cold  &  dark  without  her.  in  wolf  years,  the  little  wolf  was  old  enough  to  take  care  of  himself.  in  human  years,  though  ..  not  so  much,  but  he  wasn't  human  despite  his  appearance,  was  he?  he  was  a  wild  spirit,  hands  &  feet  dirty  with  claws  &  fangs  part  of  his  natural  appearance  at  that  point,  ensuring  his  survival.  he'd  been  taught  how  to  hunt  -  human  or  otherwise,  knew  how  to  make  it  through  the  winters  almost  like  it  was  instinct.

the  boy  would  never  find  out  what  truly  happened,  but  his  mother  went  back  into  the  village  to  find  her  love  &  got  shot  by  the king's hunter (the huntman's father).  at  the  age  of  ....  ten,  or  something,  humans  found  the  youngling  in  the  forest  &  dragged  him  back  to  their  village  &  dropped  him  into  the  local  orphanage.  the  only  word  he  knew  at  the  time.  ezekiel.  his  name.  given  he  was  a  goddess'  gift  to  his  mother.  word  about  the  wild  boy  traveled  quick  &  he  was  chased  out  of  town  soon  enough,  a  monster  to  to  be  banished  quickly  before  he  could  wreak  havoc  in  the  village.  at  ten  years  old.

the  forest  was  his  home  anyway.

as  he  grew  older,  he  learned  to  control  the  shift  -  bit  by  bit,  piece  by  piece  until  he  was  in  full  control  of  himself,  though  he  only  ever  truly  posed  as  an  ordinary  human  when  he  had  no  other  choice,  which...  didn't  happen  often.  he  learned  to  embrace  the  best  of  both  sides.  he  was  just  as  quick  &  lethal  in  his  human  form  as  he  was  as  a  wolf  &  far  less  prone  to  being  mistaken  for  an  ordinary  beast.  he  was  hated  by  both  sides  alike;  animals  feared  him  because  he  was  a  predator  &  because  he  was  human,  humans  feared  him  because  he  was  a  wild  beast  with  sharp  fangs  &  claws  he  didn't  bother  hiding  anymore.

so  he  embraced  the  beast  within  him.

he  learned,  he  hunted,  he  failed  &  tried  again.  not  all  of  his  tales  would  be  successes,  but  many  of  them  were.  or  would  be  eventually.  no,  he  did  not  want  to  talk  about  the  three  little  pigs.  really.  sheep  were  pretty  tasty,  though.  he'd  been  hunted  by  many  over  the  years,  killed  by  none.  yet.  by  now  everybody  knew  the  forest  was  his  territory  &  overstepping  resulted  in  death.  angering  him  ..resulted  in  death.  smelling  too  good  when  he  was  nearby....  well, death.  he  was  but  a  beast;  a  villain  in  their  story  &  he  saw  no  reason  to  change  himself  for  the  sake  of  those  who  exiled  him  when  he  needed  them  the  most.

they  made  the  big  bad  wolf  they  all  feared.

truth  be  told,  zeke  never  meant  to  turn  anybody  -  not  because  he  didn't  want  to  damn  another  soul  to  live  the  way  he  did.  he  couldn't  care  less.  but  because  he  didn't  like  competition.  he  also  saw  no  reason  to;  loneliness  his  ever  loyal  companion  through  the  years.  well,  that  was  until  he  met  someone.  the  first  hunter  to  hesitate  when  he  had  his  gun  pointed  at  the  wolf.  the  first  to  show  ...humanity.  intriguing,  really  -  zeke  had  been  curious  why,  wanted  to  find  out  what  made  him  different  than  all  the  others,  so  he  befriended  him  -  in  his  own  unique  way,  because  zeke  never  had  been  -  nor  would  he  ever  be  a  social  creature.  pack  mentality  or  not,  he  was  a  lone  wolf.  part  of  him  had  felt  ...hesitation  for  the  first  time,  but  ...well,  he  wanted  to  know  if  the  hunter  kept  that  purity  within  him  when  tarnished  with  the  evil  zeke  had  to  give. he simply couldn't help himself. whenever he saw something (or someone) good, the urge to ruin it became overwhelming.

turned  out  even  the  most  gentle  of  men  couldn't  ignore  the  moon's  whispers,  but  that  fragile  companionship  that  had  bloomed  between  them  did  not  survive  the  bloodbath  the  hunter  woke  up  to  -  caused  by  none  other  than  himself,  assisted  by  zeke  nonetheless,  but  still.  the  next  time  zeke  saw  the  other  end  of  his  gun,  he  didn't  hesitate.  it  took  him  weeks  to  heal  after  that  encounter  &  by  the  time  he  could  infiltrate  the  nearest  village  again  to  see  how  much  havoc  his  creation  had  wreaked  upon  the  people  there,  he  found  out  the  hunter  was  no  more. was he dead? he didn't bother asking.

oh  well.

little did he know that decision would come to haunt him one day when the son of said huntsman stepped into his life.

zeke  was  better  off  alone  anyway. he  turned  a  few  others  over  the  decades,  but  mostly  to  mess  with  them.  pompous  royals  traversing  his  home,  hunters  who  stumbled  across  his  house  in  the  forest  or  others  he  felt  deserved  it.  for  a  long  while  he  didn't  bother  wasting  his  time  on  humans  at  all,  but  then  he  met  a young man in  his  little  red  cape,  begging  to  be  led  astray  &  zeke  had  been  unable  to  resist.  that  boy  was  the  first  to  not  go  mad  after  the  bite,  which...  did  make  him  special,  in  a  way.  if  somewhat  of  a  disappointment,  because  zeke  enjoyed  the  chaos.  but  unlike  the  others,  little  red  came  back.

despite  everything.

ezekiel  couldn't  tell  what  it  was,  but  the  boy  had  a  strength  inside  him  the  others  before  him  didn't.  if  that  was  luck  or...not,  wasn't  zeke's  business.  he  only  fulfilled  the  role  he  was  born  into.  he  was  a  villain  after  all. 

for  the  longest  time,  he  had  free  reign  in  his  forest,  he  hunted  who  he  wanted  to  hunt,  ate  who  he  wanted  to  eat  -  including  one  very  nosy  grandfather  who  wouldn't  take  no  for  an  answer  &  when  he  kept  poking  his  nose  into  matters  he  had  no  business  in, zeke  took  care  of  him.  well,  yes..  he  ate  him  -  swallowed  him  whole  with  not  an  ounce  of  regret,  but  the  forest's  woodsman  thought  himself  the  hero  of  their  tale.  in  a  moment  of  carelessness  (or  post  feast  bliss),  zeke  was  caught  &  cut  in  half,  the  old  man  saved  &  despite  the  agony,  the  wolf  ...lived  to  see  another  day.  many  other  days,  but  none  without  the  woodsman  on  his  mind.  the  thirst  for  revenge  a  driving  force,  but  not  the  sole  purpose  of  his  existence.  the  woodsman  bested  him  once,  that...  wouldn't  happen  again.

the hunt was on.

the  forest  is  gone.

in  its  place  stand  neat  streets,  traffic  lights  and  the  steady  hum  of  a  town  that  never  truly  sleeps.  nowadays,  ezekiel  lopez  spends  his  days  behind  the  grill  at  luna's  diner,  trading  hunts  for  breakfast  rushes  and  fresh  kills  for  burgers  stacked  too  high  to  fit  comfortably  in  anyone's  hands.  the  food  is  good,  the  coffee  is  always  hot  and  the  portions  generous  enough  that  no  one  ever  leaves  hungry.  he  doesn't  smile  much,  doesn't  waste  words  when  a  grunt  will  do,  but  people  come  back  anyway.  maybe  it's  because  they  know  the  food  will  be  waiting.  maybe  it's  because,  beneath  the  permanent  scowl,  there's  something  oddly  dependable  about  the  man  running  the  place.

hunger  has  always  been  a  language  he  understood.  these  days,  instead  of  answering  it  with  teeth  and  claws,  he  answers  it  with  sizzling  grills,  generous  portions  and  the  quiet  certainty  that  no  one  leaves  his  diner  with  an  empty  stomach.

the  diner  becomes  his  territory  long  before  he  ever  thinks  to  call  it  that.  he  knows  which  regular  prefers  the  corner  booth,  who  takes  two  sugars  instead  of  one,  whose  footsteps  belong  to  the  morning  crowd  before  the  bell  above  the  door  even  chimes.  rowdy  customers  rarely  stay  rowdy  for  long.  ezekiel  never  raises  his  voice;  he  simply  points  toward  the  exit  with  spatula  in  hand,  and  somehow  that's  enough.  no  one  quite  knows  why.

still,  the  work  only  keeps  his  hands  busy,  not  whatever  restless  thing  sleeps  beneath  his  skin.  closing  time  leaves  the  silence  stretching  too  wide  around  him,  his  feet  carrying  him  from  counter  to  kitchen  and  back  again  as  though  he's  waiting  for  something  that  never  arrives.  on  nights  when  sleep  refuses  to  come,  he  wanders  the  treeline  surrounding  the  weathered  house  he  calls  home,  tracing  the  same  familiar  paths  until  dawn  begins  to  creep  over  the  horizon.  habit,  he  tells  himself.  nothing  more.

and  yet  there  are  evenings  when  the  wind  shifts  just  right,  carrying  the  scent  of  pine  through  the  open  window  and  something  ancient  stirs  inside  his  chest.  his  pulse  quickens.  his  teeth  ache.  for  one  impossible  moment,  he  can  almost  remember  what  it  felt  like  to  run  instead  of  walk...  to  chase  instead  of  cook...  to  feast  instead  of  serve.

then  the  moment  passes.

the  stray  dogs  of  pellar  have  an  uncanny  habit  of  gathering  behind  the  diner  around  closing  time.  ezekiel  calls  them  freeloaders,  mutters  that  they'll  scare  away  customers  one  day  and  complains  every  time  another  muzzle  appears  at  the  back  door.  somehow,  despite  all  that,  they  always  seem  to  leave  with  full  bellies.

basics ;;

◇ full name: eloi armand de basile / ashton barnes . ◇ nicknames: eli, cendrillon ( little cinders ) / ash . ◇ age: twenty-one . ◇ gender: trans male . ◇ pronouns: he / him . ◇ species: human . ◇ position: servant / clerk at a boutique, freelance tailor . ◇ civil status: single . ◇ language: fluent in english, french, italian and spanish, knows little german . ◇ romantic orientation: homoromantic . ◇ sexual orientation: homosexual . ◇ sexual temperament: switch .

relationships ;;

◇ parents: monsieur léon de basile ( father, diseased ), madam marguerite de basile ( mother, diseased ) . ◇ stepfamily: lady tremaine ( stepmother ), drizella and anastasia tremaine ( stepsiblings ). ◇ significant other: prince charmont ( lost true love ) .

physical traits ;;

◇ face claim: damian hardung . ◇ eye colour: clear blue . ◇ hair: sandy blond locks . ◇ height: five foot, eleven inches. ◇ body build: lean and muscled, cut and well-shaped from years of arduous physical labor. ◇ facial/body hair: no more than a faint peach fuzz spread across his body. ◇ tattoos + piercings: none. ◇ notable physical traits: fair skin, soft to the touch in spite of the toil, the hint of freckles peppered across his nose and cheekbones, bright yet narrowed eyes, plump lips, pointed nose, square jaw.

hopes and fears ;;

◇ dreams: for eloi, to escape his current situation, and meet with his prince once more; for ashton, to study fashion design abroad. ◇ phobias/fears: to lose himself to the hardship he's had to endure throughout his life. to become the pile of little cinders he's become known as. ◇ mental disorders: none beyond chronic daydreaming.

personality ;;

◇ intelligence: kinesthetic, since his body has become his most important worktool, eloi moves with the grace of a dancer, the balance of a juggler and the agility of a fencer. intrapersonal, for he knows and holds on to whom he is in spite of the world denying him his name. interpersonal, as he can easily connect and empathize with others, no matter who they are or what they are. people, birds, mice. additionally naturalistic, by virtue of his mysterious connection to the flora and fauna around him. ◇ likes: dreaming, singing, dancing, sewing, horseback riding, his small friends, the scent of dew in the morning, comfortable shoes, roasted pumpkin seeds, wandering around the woods, shopping at the village / frank sinatra, vintage vinyl records, a fine bespoke suit, sundaes, cheesy rom-coms, scrapbooking, riding his bike through the streets of the town, daydreaming with their earbuds on. ◇ dislikes: the abuse they endure day by day, injustices, cruelty, yelling, cold meals, the stroke of the clocktower in the morning, working the farm in a heated day, sore muscles / clubbing, drugs, rude clients, vandalism, curfews, littering, working under pressure, caffeine, loud motors. ◇ alignment: neutral good. ◇ positive attributes: kind, courageous, outspoken, graceful, generous, strong-willed, empathetic, firm, witty, independent, resourceful, loyal, protective, forthinking, prudent, forgiving. ◇ negative attributes: fanciful, withdrawn, sarcastic, hard-headed, repressed, dissatisfied, idealistic, relentless.

combat ;;

◇ weapons of choice: a broom, his fists if needed. ◇ powers: his compassion, wits and persistence.

aesthetics ;;

◇ aesthetics: delicate fingers coated in scars, filth and cinders, blue birds flying across a pumpkin patch in bloom, suits of silk and lace with cut-glass shoes to match, blue eyes that sparkle underneath the moonlight, tattered clothes carefully stitched back together, a dusty yet cosy attic, the remnants of a burning fireplace, the gleaming pearls of a broken necklace, the echoing chimes of a clock tower in the distance / an old record player turning, loose cardigans and ripped jeans, hand-me-down converse shoes, scraps of fabric around a sewing machine, a slice of home-made pumpkin pie, a pinboard with magazine cutouts and inspirational post-its, artificial flowers sitting by the window frame in an old vase, a half-full cup of steaming jasmine tea, a scent of lavender and fabric softener . ◇ inspo: charles perrault's cinderella or the little glass slipper, and both of its disney adaptations ( 1950 & 2015 ), in addition to the former one's sequel, cinderella iii: a twist in time .

kinks ;;

◇ kinks: vanilla, foreplay, kissing, begging, cunnulingus, rimming, biting/marking, nipple play, frotting, fingering, breeding, feminization, lingerie, manhandling, shower sex. ◇ anti-kinks: hair pulling, aggression, blood play, impact play, degradation, humiliation, ageplay, watersports, scat.

background ;;

　　— once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a tiny kingdom. peaceful, prosperous and rich in romance and tradition…

　　eloi's early childhood was a golden one. one filled with love and laughter, born to a noble house in a stately chateau, with two dotting parents who raised him to be a caring and well-mannered young boy. his heart was a pure one, and his life was a dream. 　　but just like every beautiful dream, it could not last forever. after months bedridden by illness, his mother tragically passed away. kind and devoted to his son as he was, monsieur léon thought necessary that eloi continued to grow with the love and care of a mother. soon enough, blind whim led him to another whom he considered the perfect candidate. a very nice woman. educated, ever polite. but even then, there was just something off. she took the mother's place, but lacked any of her warmth.

　　— and so he married again, choosing for his second spouse a man of good family with two children just eloi's age…

　　it was a morning like any other the day léon left. a business trip as usual. the merchant promising his boy he would be back by the end of summer, and he'd bring him back the first branch that brushed his shoulder on the way to the docks. summer led to autumn, then winter, then spring. the branch came back to eloi, but his father never did.

　　— it was upon the untimely death of this good man, however, that the stepmother's true nature was revealed: cold, cruel, and bitterly jealous of eloi's charm and beauty…

　　at first it was just a room eloi had to give up, sent to sleep in the attic instead. then it was his clothes, his toys, as well as all the belongings of his late parents. then, as the household was dismissed, at barely ten years of age, eloi had to start sweeping. moping. dusting, cooking, washing, mending, sewing… 　　and just when it seemed that they could take nothing else from him, the mocking started. the nights when the attic was too cold to bear, the boy would take a mat and rest by the dying hearth. at his wake, he would find himself coated in ash and toil. that was all his stepfamily saw him as. eloi was no more, just cendrillon, a pathetic little being of cinders.

　　— thus, as time went by, the chateau fell into disrepair for the family fortunes were squandered upon the vain and selfish stepsiblings, while eloi was abused, humiliated, and eventually forced to become a servant in his own house...

　　throughout the pain and hurt, eloi grew to be a handsome young man, with a heart just as bright as his smile. and not only was he beautiful, but his strength and will to keep pushing through the pain grew alongside him. for his dreams of freedom would come to him, he'd tell himself. and he knew he was right the day he opened the door to receive an invitation. the king was throwing a ball. 　　all the boy wanted was a night for himself. to dance, feast, and maybe see him...but that dream had almost been taken away from him too. with only presentable clothes torn to shreds by his stepsiblings, and all hope lost, it was only through the magical intervention of his fairy godparent that he was able to stand up again. the wave of a wand granting him a carriage, horses, and a sparkling suit with beautiful glass shoes. 　　 the ball was magnificent, beyond anything the young servant could have imagined. hours flew by as eloi danced in the arms of his dream man, and just as they were about to kiss, midnight struck, and the one warning his godparent gave him echoed in his mind. eloi ran away, leaving behind nothing but a trail of stardust and a shoe to be remembered by. 　　 morning came, and eloi had become the talk of the town. the mysterious gent in silver that vanished into the night, whose shoe was to be tried on every eligible young man so that prince could find his bride...wait, the prince? 　　eloi's dreams were about to come true. love, freedom, all just one shoe fit away... until he found himself locked in the attic, tears staining his face as bruised fists slammed against the door. his head rested against the frame of the door. never realising the moment he fell asleep...

✧ ˚₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊ ✧

　　just as the alarm clock buzzed, ashton woke up as he would any other day. before he could hit the shower, his working clothes were already on. the floors and tiles soon were shining clean. lunches on the table, dinner on the fridge. it had taken a while to figure out a schedule that worked in his favor, an easier task after he graduated high school and could be at his stepmother's disposal at almost any time of the day. 　　ever since his father left them, the young ashton barnes had to bear the burden of the family the man left behind. his home had become a prison of sorts, a golden cage he had to polish day after day. his one. and yes, ashton should have been in college by then, dreamed of it even. fashion design was his calling, and if only he could get a scholarship, maybe study abroad. distant dreams which he was determined to make real. 　　 but for dreams to come true, in pellar's town, determination didn't cut it. thankfully, there was minuit. a small bespoke boutique at the heart of the town. there, ashton worked for the kindest old man, learning the trade from experienced hands. it didn't pay much, but it didn't need to. ashton was happy with having a place he could call home, even if his only company often were the stray mice that often ran around the back of the shop.

　　— and yet, through it all, cendrillon remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn he found new hope that someday, his dreams of happiness would come true.

wanted connections ;;

Personal

Name: Red, Conan Laine

Age: 28

Gender: male, he/him

Occupation: assistant baker, delivery boy

Orientation: gay

Relationships

Parental: father (deceased), mother (deceased), Grandfather

Sibling: Snow/Leopold

Friendship: -

Romantic/Sexual: -

Animosity: -

Sex

Position: Vers

D/s: switch

Size: 10.5 in

Kinks: public, breeding

Biography

Homelands | Red

Red has always been connected to the royal family. His grandfather was a knight for the king. He was a loyal knight through the birth of his daughter and loss of his wife. Stood by the king through the loss of the queen. Loyal until he found out his daughter was pregnant with the king's second son. He had to protect his daughter and grandchild so he left.

Red's mother passed when he was born, his grandfather wrapped him in his old knight's cloak which eventually gave him his name, Red.

Red was raised on the farm, listening to his grandfather's stories of being a knight. On his twelfth birthday, he begged to begin training to be a knight. While hesitant, his grandfather agrees, spending the next few years making sure he was truly ready.

The day Red left to present himself to the king was supposed to be one of the best of his life. But on the way through the woods, Red met someone else. A man that wasn't entirely a man and would change Red's life forever.

Bitten and scared, Red stumbled his way back home, not sure what was happening to him and needing his grandfather.

His plans stalled now, he stays on the farm, and on full moon nights, runs the woods as a wolf.

Pellar's Town | Conan Laine

Conan grew up with Grandpa, helping in the bakery and making deliveries on his bike then eventually motorcycle. It's a simple life and Conan feels fulfilled in it, until he learns who his father is and that he didn't want Conan at all. Conan's life spirals from there, sending him to drink and cause fights because no matter how angry he is, he can't take it out on the people he wants to.

He gets in trouble often and tries to either fight or fuck his way out of them. The only calm he really finds are in the bakery or in the woods.