[ WATTYS '18 LONG-LISTED ] ❝ I have slit throats far more beautiful than yours.❞ In which a thousand brides have fallen, and she is the last, so she spins a tale as old as time to live the dawn. | an arabian nights x beauty and the beast crossover | (cover by ES Johnson) trailer (video by @AKfiction): https://youtu.be/2OSjakJrUeo

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠} Ria Romano knew hurt like the back of her hand. She was dealt her fair share of bad cards, more than anyone so young should have to face. A cynical girl riddled with the remnants of her past, a shattered sort of soul. She concealed like it was second nature; her instinct being to suppress. She'd offer you a cigarette with a shrug while you were crying because she never was too great with affection. She didn't smile so often but when she did and it was directed at you, you'd never feel such satisfaction. I was told Aria preferred to be alone, isolated; clouding her mind with inhales of her cigarette and drowning it in alcohol. Until she was dealt her good card, out of the pack of bad. They had a love beautiful enough to last a lifetime, the type directors desire to capture and authors aspire to write. Two souls, shattered by the cruelty of the world time and time again with flames that rekindled each others. They were each other's oxygen. They breathed life back into each other, those two insomniacs. <3

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘖 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠} The perfect picture of elegance. It's all Violet Amory's known - the foundation of the image she must preserve. For her, for them. Raised in a distinguished family and moulded to bear modest smiles and tender caresses, the grace she's renowned for is what she's come to accept. Stifling this innate need that nobody in her worlds seems to hold: for more. For thrill and the world beyond. Contained within the weight of reputation and hiding the hurt that lingers, the bruises she masks. Until him. The picture of wildness and impulse, with a devious grin she can't seem to stop herself from falling towards. And a heart all too enticing, Everest and Violet battling the world around them that ordains them to be apart. Misfits, in their own separate worlds. all my love <3

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠 } Hudson Tempest's an enigma nobody's capable of solving. Darkness has been moulded into his skin, running through him as easily as his blood. More than he's ever allowed anyone to see. Swept up into a world of sin and deviance, Hudson Tempest was broken as a boy and shattered several times over the course of his life. Made to be cruel and forced into a pool of self-destruction, a life that will only ruin him if it continues. Death has been the only thing in sight to him, for a long time. But how hard it is to save someone, who wants to let themselves drown. Val Emerson's the embodiment of light. A heart that outpours warmth like she was made to love, from the very moment she was born. The sunny side up sort of girl with an affinity for the sea, and smiles. When the cruelest of them all and the happiest of them all collide. When her hatred turns into a desperate desire to save the most broken of them all, far past salvation. When his hatred morphs into something he promised not to feel. Opposites. Dark, to light. Whole, and broken. Rivals, in all they do. Until somewhere along the way, they find themselves falling into each other's arms. Somehow, into each other's clashing hearts. <3

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN