#( aesthetic ) / ✦ be like snow - cold but beautiful .

[eiiskonigin]

general tag drop

[ofcommonrooms]

𝓉𝒶𝑔 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅 —(•• narcissa black ••)—

[inmywiring]

and Frost-

[crystallinestars]

Winter and Christmas HCs

Little HCs on how Kaveh, Alhaitham, Albedo, and Childe spend the Christmas season with you. I might make a part 2 with other boys if people like this.

(Apologies is anything sounds a bit weird. I wrote this while running a fever, so I can't tell if something sounds off)

Kaveh

🍷 Likes the Christmas season because it gives him an excuse to decorate your house and make it look beautiful. Kaveh enjoys decorating the house and Christmas tree together with you because, to him, it's a bonding activity where your hard work can result in something beautiful, which greatly appeals to him.

He goes all out hanging garlands, lights, and paper snowflakes inside your home and also sets up miniature Christmas trees both indoors and outdoors. He pays careful attention to both the exterior and interior of the home, bedecking it with so many decorations that you don’t know how you’ll store all of it once Spring arrives. Helping him set everything up takes a majority of the day, but you have to admit that Kaveh has a good eye for aesthetics because your house looks like something out of a fairy tale.

Kaveh will shower you with praises once you finish setting everything up, but he expects you to compliment his efforts in return. He simply wants recognition for his work, and he values your opinion on whether or not you genuinely like how he decorated the house.

🍷 Is full of Christmas spirit. Gives to charities, goes window shopping with you, and gushes to you about all the beautiful scenery you can find around shops during this time of year. He also enjoys going on short walks with you to admire the winter landscape even if he complains about the cold later. He’s absolutely enamored with how magical this time of year feels.

🍷 He is a master at building gingerbread houses. Rather than buying a kit from the store, Kaveh opts to design and bake his own. Building a gingerbread house is in some ways similar to his work as an architect, so designing one costs him very little effort. Baking isn’t Kaveh’s strongest suit though he’s decent at it, but if you are a better baker than him, the architect will greatly appreciate your help in making the dough for him. Getting all the necessary materials, Kaveh spends hours painstakingly cutting pieces of the house and baking them in the oven.

You don’t interfere with his creative process, knowing that your craftsmanship is nowhere near as precise as his, and your help would most likely result in Kaveh needing to fix your mistakes. Instead, you keep him company while he assembles the gingerbread house, chatting with him and getting him to take breaks to eat because he tends to get too wrapped up in his work. Kaveh won’t tell you, but he genuinely appreciates your company because it makes him less lonely.

The gingerbread house takes a few days to construct, but the final result is well worth the effort. The house looks magical. For a house made out of candy, it looks surprisingly realistic and grand, and it makes you feel guilty at the mere thought of eating and destroying such a delicate work of art. If you look closer, you’ll notice two little gingerbread people holding hands next to the entrance of the house. One looks like Kaveh while the other resembles you.

🍷 Kaveh is also a master at making snowmen. I’m sorry, but his snowmen will blow yours out of the water. He doesn’t settle for simply stacking three spheres together, jamming some sticks and a carrot, and then calling it a day. No, Kaveh spends hours collecting snow and constructing a beautiful snow sculpture that could honestly win a contest if he chose to enter one.

Out of all the ones he makes, his favorite one is of you. He spent way too much time making your sculpture as accurate to the real you as he could, and even added some artistic flourish (flowers, extravagant clothing, accessories etc) to enhance your beauty. His sculptures draw the attention of many passersby, especially children. Will probably get roped into teaching children how to make these sculptures because the little kids want to learn how to make them too.

🍷 He catches colds easily. If he sees you without a hat or scarf, he will take off his own scarf/hat and put it on you while scolding you for not dressing warmly because you could catch a cold. He also gives you his gloves if you don’t have any on you, and is prepared to give you the clothes on his back if you’re still cold. He ends up catching a cold himself instead. Kaveh feels embarrassed by this turn of events and won’t let you care for him at first, but please nurse him back to health. He’s not great at taking care of his health and will almost cry from how loved he feels if you take care of him when he’s at his most vulnerable.

🍷 Is too broke to afford the presents he wants to give you and his friends. Despite his efforts to save up money for Christmas shopping, it’s still not enough, so he makes your present himself. He’s very nifty with his hands so he makes you a little trinket or gadget that both looks pretty and serves a practical purpose that you can make use of in your daily life.

🍷 Likes trying out limited-time Christmas teas and hot chocolates with you to determine which ones taste the best so he can give some to his friends as gifts. Also enjoys making Christmas-themed latte art for you and is very good at it.

Alhaitham

🎧 Doesn’t decorate the house because he can’t be bothered and sees it as a meaningless endeavor. If you want to decorate it, he won’t stop you, though don’t expect him to help (so he tells you). However, if you ask him to help you put up a decoration someplace that’s too high for you to reach, he’ll sigh and come over and do as you ask. For all his indifference towards the holiday season and all it entails, Alhaitham has a soft spot for you and will still help you if it makes you happy. Unfortunately, his nature simply doesn’t allow him to resist the urge to provide critique on the placement of certain decorations if he thinks they’re in a bad spot.

🎧 Has practically zero Christmas spirit. He doesn’t want to build snowmen, won’t bother with gingerbread houses, won’t even look in the direction of all the Christmas-themed mugs/candles/clothes/other junk that serves very little purpose. He knows it’s all just a corporate scheme to get money out of people, however, he actively uses any mugs or sweaters you give to him as a gift. He may say there was no need for you to do any of this, but he does treasure the things you give him and takes better care of them than most other things in his house.

🎧 Among all Christmas-related activities, Alhaitham enjoys reading with you by the fireplace the most. The fire provides enough light for him to read comfortably, and snuggling with you under a warm blanket on the couch while listening to the crackle of the logs creates a nice ambiance that he enjoys. Bonus points if you have a mug of tea or coffee somewhere nearby for the two of you to enjoy while you read.

🎧 He’s not the most creative when it comes to giving gifts. He’s the type to not know what to give someone if the person already has everything they need, so he relies on you to help him shop for presents. It’s easier to fight the crowds with two people instead of one when it comes to getting items before they’re all snatched up, plus leaving the responsibility of picking presents to you absolves him of the need to worry about what to get his friends. Don’t worry, Alhaitham will assist you with the decision-making process by providing his two cents about each gift you pick until you both settle on something you think is good.

He hates shopping during this season because of how loud and crowded it gets, so Alhaitham develops a tendency to hold your hand so you won’t get separated in the throng of people.

Like the slacker he is, Alhaitham also relies on you to wrap up the presents because his initial decision is to simply place them in a bag and call it a day. He’s just not into arts and crafts.

🎧 If Haitham notices you rubbing your hands together from the cold, he will take one of your hands in his and place them in the pocket of his jacket to keep them warm.

🎧 Has a sharp eye and quickly notices if you own worn-out winter clothes or don’t have things like hats, scarves, or gloves. He’ll buy you a high-quality version to replace it, sparing no expense at getting you something durable that will last a long time while also keeping you warm. It’s worth the money, in his opinion. Since he believes in giving practical gifts, expect a brand-new winter jacket/boots/gloves to be given to you as a present from him. That, or a book on your hobbies.

Albedo

🧪 Doesn’t fully understand the hype behind Christmas but joins in on the festivities for the sake of garnering new experiences and trying to determine what people like about it so much. He does end up liking the holiday and winter season in general, albeit not for personal reasons. He finds it adorable to watch Klee and you enjoy the snow, build gingerbread houses, and build snowmen together. He helps to improve your gingerbread house/snowman making by giving a few pointers here and there but otherwise lets you two make them how you want. Albedo finds value in other people’s ideas and thus wants you to have the freedom to express yourselves how you like.

🧪 Wants to try Christmas-related activities, one of which is kissing under a mistletoe. He finds the concept amusing but first makes sure you are on board with the idea. If you are, expect mistletoe to appear in your shared home one day. It’ll be hung above the dining table, the main entrance, and above his work desk. His goal is to get kisses from you before you share a meal together, when you leave or enter your home, and when you bring him tea when he’s working at his desk. Albedo loves it if you become flustered when spotting the mistletoe at first. Your bashful expression gets a soft chuckle out of him before he leans in for a kiss.

🧪 Albedo likes the winter landscape. There’s something so pristine about the white snow blanketing the world and muting all sound. He spends quite a bit of his free time painting the winter landscapes. Once in a while, purely for fun, he makes a painting of you and Klee playing in the snow. The memory of watching you two building Jumpy Dumpty out of snow still makes him smile.

🧪 One of his favorite Christmas-related activities to do with you is trying to concoct Christmas-flavored teas and sweets. He experiments with classic flavors like peppermint, gingerbread, cinnamon, and eggnog among others, and tries to come up with unique flavors by combining several of them. You tend to be his guinea pig during these experiments, and while a few of the results end up being misses, the majority you actually end up liking. It becomes a tradition for Albedo to make you your favorite blend of tea or cookie recipe of his own creation during this season.

🧪 Makes your present himself. As an alchemist, he can make a lot of unusual and unique things, but he settles for more simple things like creating a body wash with a scent you like and that also works wonders for your skin, or giving you a rare plant if you’re into botany, or specially designed gloves that keep your fingers warm no matter how cold it gets. The presents he makes aren’t anything extravagant, but they’re chosen with thought and care. Albedo also helps Klee make a fancy card to give you for Christmas and helps her make a present for you too which ends up being a Jumpy Dumpty plush similar to her own.

🧪 If Albedo notices you’re cold, he’ll give you some of his own clothes to try and keep you warm, such as wrapping his scarf around your neck or giving you his hat. He’ll gently remind you to dress warmer for the winter weather. If you still end up getting sick, he’ll take care of you until you’re all better.

Childe

🐋 Having grown up in a snowy country, Childe is used to dealing with a variety of problems that snow can bring, and even has a fondness for it because it reminds him of his home and family. He enjoys going on walks to admire the winter scenery and gets you to tag along with him. He tells you lots of stories of how he and his siblings used to play in the snow and the shenanigans they got up to.

If you’re the type to get cold easily, Childe will readily give you his winter clothes to warm you up. The cold doesn’t bother him as much as it does you, plus he rarely gets sick, so he can get away with losing a few pieces of clothes to give you. Not that you’re complaining. His winter clothes keep you warm better than anything you ever owned, plus they smelled like him in a comforting sort of way.

🐋 Loves to engage in snowball fights with his siblings, and moreso when you join in on the fun. Him and you getting chased by his three younger siblings who toss snowballs at you. Though the children are a bit clumsy and rarely hit either you or him, Childe still lets them win the game on purpose so the little ones can feel good about themselves. He only asks that you play along and let his siblings win, and feels a surge of love towards you when you do.

Childe likes playing in the snow with his siblings in general. Making snow angels, building funny-looking snowmen, and constructing snow forts are just some of the things they all do together as a family. His siblings like to include you in their activities and try to make you feel like a part of their group.

🐋 Childe likes to bring you along on his ice fishing trips if it’s something that you’re interested in doing with him. He’ll teach you all about cutting through the ice, how to operate a fishing rod, and what to look for while fishing. Though he tends to ice fish alone so he has some quiet time to reflect on himself, he also likes fishing together with you as a bonding activity. He doesn’t make fun of you if you fail to reel in a catch, simply giving you some pointers on what you can do to improve your chances next time.

🐋 To Childe, Christmas means spending time with family. Every year, he always makes an effort to celebrate the holiday together with his family, and after getting into a relationship with him, you become a part of his family celebrations, as well. His family welcomes you with open arms and teaches you about their culture’s unique customs and dishes when it comes to celebrating the holiday. You are urged to try new dishes, participate in festive activities, and help convince the children that Santa is real when their father comes in dressed in the costume of one. Even if you feel a bit awkward about celebrating together with his family, Childe appreciates you a lot for taking the chance. To him, three things are most important in his life: self-improvement, his family, and you. Seeing you get along ith his family makes him really happy.

🐋 His main goal when choosing presents is picking something you’ll like. The secondary goal is picking something that will impress you. As such, he doesn’t limit himself when buying you a gift. If you’re into clothing, he’ll buy you a ton of high-quality, high-end fashion that costs a crazy amount of money. If you’re more into artsy interests, he’ll buy you the most expensive art tools and supplies on the market so your art won’t be limited by money. If you like sports, he buys all kinds of fancy gadgets to make working out easier for you. He buys the best that his money can afford without really questioning it because he believes you deserve only the best.

🐋 Mistletoe isn’t a part of his culture, but he finds the idea of it quite fun. He definitely wants to try it with you and will go as far as carrying a branch of it in his pocket and whipping it out to hold above your heads whenever he wants a kiss from you. Kissing whenever you two accidentally meet under a mistletoe is all well and good, but he thinks it’s more fun to get kisses out of you this way whenever he wants. You might have to snatch the mistletoe away from him because he can get too carried away with constantly pestering you for more kisses. He just can’t get enough of your lips.

[thetriplets3]

hi lovely! i have a request!!! could you do one where matt and reader are secretly dating and they go out on a date and someone catches them? like fan and they post it or something?? thx girl love ur work!!!

❝𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰❞

this is the jet lag and the covid brewing in my body that wrote this, not me. i have no idea if any of this is coherent or makes sense but i hope it’s okay

matt and i have been dating for nearly 2 years now having been friends since highschool. and we decided it was best for both of us to keep our relationship a secret public eye. his brothers, nate, and madi know but that’s it. just a few people we know would never say anything. their fans know of me and that i went to school with them so it’s no surprise to see me with them all but that’s the extent of it. matt posts a few soft launch photos of us but keeping me private. i don’t follow the boys from my main account so no fans have been able to dig through his followers to find who the mystery girl is.

matt and i rarely go out alone, always with his brothers or friends. there’s a small part of me that hurts that we decided to do this. not being able to spend time together in public without making things look very platonic, having to keep distance when we’re with friends who don’t know about us, or not being able to show my love openly for my boyfriend. i often turn down going to big events because i find them overwhelming, too loud, too many different things going on at once, it’s just too much for me especially when i can’t be with matt, my security blanket making me feel safe and comfortable.

it’s a blizzard outside, roads too icy for anyone to brace except those working. not to mention it’s the kind of cold that makes your nose hairs instantly feel frozen. using this weather to our advantage, matt and i carefully headed to our favorite little family run bakery down the road. one thing i hate is being cold. dressed in my comfiest thickest sweats, a fleece sweatshirt, a puffy jacket with a scarf just about covering my whole face you could hardly tell who i was, but i was warm and comfy.

we grab a table in the corner of the bakery decorated with warm christmas lights hung above the plush couch with a variety of plants aesthetically placed around the space. the atmosphere was beautiful, soft and gentle lighting, a fireplace adorned with christmas decorations and garland, instrumental music played quietly over the speakers, and to make it even better there wasn’t anyone in here other than the odd person that came in briefly here and there.

i leaned into matt’s side resting my head on his shoulder and his arm holding me closer to him. we sat there facing the large bay window soaking in the peace and beauty of the snow falling. we sat quietly in silence for a while before something out the window caught our eye. 2 teenage girls quickly putting their phones away once they saw us watching them, giggling as they ran away. 

“matt” my voice falters, worried about what might be posted.

“i know it’s okay try not to worry, im sure you can’t even tell it’s us through all that spray on snow on the window. plus you’re so bundled up you look like cousin itt. no one will recognize who you are and if they do, they do. it’s out of our control love,” he tries to reassure me. he pulls his phone out and take a photo of us. “see? we’re good don’t worry”.

“omg i do look like cousin itt” i giggled.

“whatever happens, happens okay? sure they’ll know we’re dating but that’s all they know. we can still keep our relationship private just like we are now nothing has to change. i mean is it so bad that they know? i can take you on proper dates without having to hide you. so what if people see us? they only see a sliver of our relationship, they’ll see us together but that’s all they know. they don’t know our favorite song, the moment i fell in love with you, how you fit right into our family, how much my parents love you, mom’s told me you’re like the daughter she’s always wanted, nick and chris love you, everyone does. so i don’t care if they see us together, they only see the outside of our relationship. i know without a doubt in my mind that i’m gonna marry you one day. what they know doesn’t affect our relationship. i love you pretty girl”.

“i didn’t know you had a thing for cousin itt” i giggled earning a nudge to my shoulder from matt at my lack of seriousness. “i’m kidding, you’re right they can see the outside of our relationship and make their own assumptions. all that matters is we know our relationship. i love you”.

squeezing me closer to his side he rests his head on mine planting kisses to my head. “who doesn’t have a thing for cousin itt?” he joked making me laugh.

“i can’t wait to marry that laugh”.

taglist:

@antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld @strniolo @luvsturniolo

[ponponwrites]

✾Beta Readers Wanted!✾

What I'm looking for: ✾Polite, friendly readers who can give me their honest opinion on my stories. ✾ Readers who can let me know if there are any inconsistencies within the story, such as plot holes ect. ✾ Readers who are familiar with the Fantasy, Horror, and Romance genre. What are my stories about? The Hollows: [Beauty and The Beast, Snow White & Vasilisa The Beautiful elements] Cecilia lives in an era of beauty and decorum...yet this world is cold and distant, with nothing but her mother's jealousy and abuse for company. Cecilia only wishes to survive-but the forest beyond Lockwood Estate is whispering...and soon she'll find herself spirited away from her mother's jealousy and wrath, encountering a long-forgotten world that is ancient, wild & unforgiving. Where the comforting monotony of Regency decorum is unheard of. For In the Hollows...Beasts roam...cottages have chicken legs...and the Unseelie run free... Crowned of The Wildes: [Beauty and The Beast elements] Deep beneath the earth, where the soil and roots are warm, lives Adele the hearth spirit (brownie). Like so many before her, she grew up in the Land of The Midsts, working hard as a servant for the Seelie Court.

But when she accidentally witnesses the royal family's assassination, does she know the truth. The Unseelie Court now has the crown, and they intend to rule and dominate all life. Obeying the High King's last wish, she flees into The Wildes to warn the neighboring kingdoms. But will they believe a little hearth spirit or will they bow down to the crowned of the wildes? Genre: The Hollows- Horror/Fantasy/Romance/Historical Crowned of The Wildes- Horror/ High Fantasy/Romance/Historical Content Warnings: The Hollows- [ Abuse/Attempted Rape/Violence & Gore ]

Crowned of The Wildes- [ Violence & Gore ]

Rated: The Hollows- M

Crowned of The Wildes- M Vibes & Aesthetics:

The Hollows- Black Coffee, Roasted Apples, Sunrises, Tarot Cards, Fire Burn & Cauldron Bubble, Autumn, Cinnamon Sugar Crowned of The Wildes- Chai Latte, Moss, Scent of Rain, Stormy Nights, Wet Earth, Baked Bread, Bonfires, 80's Fantasy.

**If interested, please message me here or join my discord server(must be +18) down below👇 🐛BOOKWORM CAFE🐛

[and-the-stars-collided]

Ainur as Aesthetics: 

Melkor  —  eye-rolls, either sleep for the week or sleep is for the weak, great music taste, extremely passionate, smarter than you'd think, abandoned cities, alcohol, doesn't care about opinions, midnight hours, black coffee, hates humanity, cold hands, barely-there eyeliner, sharp smiles, lace-up boots, doesn't like to be told what to do, anger so blinding that you forget where and who you are, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, bad decisions, their words can hit you like a gunshot, the chilling sensation of metal on your skin, sharp claws ready to slash anyone they encounter, shattered antique mirrors, long dark scarves, dark and tousled hair, swallowing hard, a little broken.

Manwë  —  pale white snow, red cheeks, dried flowers that used to be the colour of the sun, quiet half-smiles, sunlight coming through an open window in the morning, hair tucked behind ears, gives the most thoughtful gifts, always neat, sparkly jewellery, beautiful poetry, comforting hugs, light footsteps, kisses on cheeks, a laugh like wind chimes, thunderstorms that you feel in your chest, intelligent eyes, collector of small objects, windswept hair, loves their friends with almost an unhealthy amount of loyalty, the colour of the sky at dusk, a crisp autumn breeze, soft hair, gold-flecked souls, the one who is there for you even when you think you don't need them, singing under their breath, smiles as the rain falls down and laughs as their hair lifts in the breeze.

Varda  —  cracked spines of leather-bound classics, sharing pieces of your soul with the world, starting revolutions with simple words, rosewater, cherry blossom petals floating through the wind, making promises, midnight conversations, writing into abysmal nothingness, stargazing, knowing smiles, doesn't open up easily, soft skin, crystals, a night where the clouds hide the moon, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets, studying things that do not exist, bright flashes of light outside your window, silk bedsheets, mysterious, handwritten notes, stays up so late it's early, plays quiet music for ambiance, fingertips stained with ink.

Ulmo  —  bodies full of stories, a will that ebbs and flows, lazy smiles, no real devotion to anything but existence itself, wordless lullabies, glassy blue eyes, moves with grace and rhythm, late night swims, blue tie dyed sheets, flowing outfits, the rough ocean at night, tall waves and bitter winds, salty hair, long limbs, kind of sad and tired but you've never see them cry, goes with the flow, quiet voice but loud meaning, walks with purpose, always looks their best, very kind and giving, seashells, loud laughter, perfect posture, habit of overthinking, bare feet, ice-cold lemonade, laying on the ground to soak up the sun, sand in the air, intricate designs, high ceilings, dim lights, bitten nails.

Aule  — confident, likes to perform, acts cool but is secretly emotional underneath, bold/dark colours, loves challenges, gets mad and forgives just as quickly, wouldn't change for anyone, laughing so loudly that strangers stare at you, running around like crazy person with your lover, compliments a stranger's crazy hair colour and feeling so good when they smile, unhealthy amounts of candy, fiery red sunsets, getting back up after being knocked down, they know that their friends are right behind them wherever they go, the burn in your lungs after chasing something you'll never be able to catch, always does their own thing.

Yavanna  —  warm days, soft smiles, making sure everyone is happy, walking barefoot, falling asleep in the sun, wishes everyone would be kinder, mugs of too-sweet tea, the person who screams don't kill the spider, adores animals, covered in freckles, one can never quite tell exactly what their eye colour is, pointing to the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds, large yawns early in the morning, a question left unanswered, honey, one hand catching another, tea that is swallowed for its warmth and not the taste, faded patterns on well-loved t-shirts, dew beading on flower petals, the imprints tight socks leave behind, wanderlust's yearning pull.

Orome  —  long hair, loves nature and animals, mist, sharp features, dirt under their fingernails, very down to earth, always willing to help, the strong friend, always has new, interesting facts to tell, tough as all hell, doesn't love easily but always loves deeply, walking barefoot everywhere, wildflowers threaded into messy braids, laying in the afternoon sun, big adventures, crisp air, deeply opinionated, climbing the tallest trees around, muddy feet, toothy smiles, accepting of everyone, follows their own path, stargazing off mountain cliffs, running through tall grass, folklore stories of fairies and dragons, a child at heart.

Nienna  —  honeyed and sulky dark summers, pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias, unkept promises, cinematic and shadowy, existing in a trance of melancholy, feels passionately though feigns detachment, slightly off-putting, their presence is announced but even if it wasn't you'd still know they were there, constantly underestimated, desperately afraid of silence, red-rimmed eyes, always appears serene, broken handwriting, short hair, foxes, dead leaves, large coats and scarves, numb fingers, old stone walls, steaming black tea, tears, gazing at a past lover down the hall, the smell before rain, old songs, nostalgia.

Námo  —  set features, eyes the color of dead souls, candles melting wax atop a piano, tragic smiles, an inexplicable sense of sharpness, hot tears, decaying cores, irreversible tornadoes, infectious whispers, heart is always pounding, doesn't like to be seen, nightmares, dark circles under their eyes that they can't hide, doesn't know their limits, slightly self-destructive, the silent one, bitter coffee, quiet observation, black eyeshadow, knows a bit of everything, no-nonsense, cold fingers and colder gazes, being misunderstood, sitting alone in a hard wood chair late at night, dead roses, losing a loved one too soon, moss covering broken gravestones, shattered glass, the taste of melancholy. 

Irmo  —  glows when they talk, dewy eyes, radiates with a blessing from the sun, gentle hands, dandelions, white clouds, the shy warmth of the first days of spring, afternoon naps, soft pillows, carefree laughter, fields of reeds, basking in the moonlight, flower crowns, sunbathing in creeks, gloriously alive, hours among the leaves, kind soul, often lost in their own thoughts, nights spent watching the river, dancing in a circle, holding hands, soft clothes, sun kissed skin, always listening to music, either works too hard or not at all, warm smiles, dancing in the rain, catching fireflies, wanting to do everything and nothing all at once, innocent hope, paper stars in glass jars, bittersweet goodbyes, looking for beauty in everything, water-coloured skies. 

Estë  —  dried orange garlands, snow on green tiled roofs, a bit in love, quills dipped in metallic ink, daydreaming, angelic singing, very fond of cuddling, homemade bread, constantly buying gifts for people, talkative, will hold your hand whenever and wherever, friends with almost everyone, convinced that sleeping at 10pm is late, strawberry ice cream, calming eyes, telling old stories, rosy cheeks, wanting the best for everyone, sunrises, loves nature, passionate about dreams, self-made flower crowns, will stay up late to comfort you, unexpected hugs from the back, not afraid to tell people they love them, humble.

Vairë  —  silver knitting needles, velvet skies filled with twinkling stars, red embroidery thread, hot black tea with spoonfuls of sugar, ballet shoes, hearts carved in birch bark, denim jackets, distant bells, foxgloves, rain moving over hills, cheek caresses, a bedroom left alone, walking in the mud and rain at dusk, resisting change, dead ends, unspoken feelings, finally coming home, looking up at the stars in hope of something more, simultaneously brimming with hope and lifeless, wiling the hours away, staring at the ceiling, wanting to write but not knowing the words, hiding from the world, afraid of the future, a sense of dread.

Vána  —  soft features, the smell of lavender, long walks in the sunshine, singing in a choir, sincere laughter, pastel colours, reading poetry aloud, baking cookies and sharing it with friends, kind gestures, painting on random objects, flower print clothes, lacy socks, handwritten love letters, forgiving people, graceful movements, writing poetry, roses, standing up for those who can't defend themselves, walks through nature, positivity, white lace, long hair, very graceful, always there for you, nostalgia of a time that you never knew, undeniably beautiful, the sweet breeze of a spring morning, slowing drifting off while laying on a green meadow, calm and collected, the best friend you could ask for.

Tulkas  —  loud laughter, hammocks, doesn't know when to stop, can't sleep, jacket with so many fixed holes it has been reduced to patchwork, flashing smiles, living on the edge, free spirit that will rip you to shreds if you dare to try and tame it, bloody knuckles, the moments of silence after a loud screaming match, riding into the sunset, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of fire on the air, running from person to person, unbridled chaos, aimless wandering, on the verge of greatness, call of the void, empty avenues, walking between worlds, wanting to hold the planets, melancholy nights, seeing things that aren't really there, wishing for more, overgrown unkempt gardens, bright colours against dark greens, tripping up on vines and logs, scraped knees.

Nessa  —  can go from laughing to serious fast if necessary, little bits of dark humour, staying up late, they do the little eyebrow thing when they get insulted, doodles, everybody else thinks they have friends but they don’t, red lipstick, lively, can be implosive, forgotten, mood swings like crazy, but very calm when they are happy, regrets decisions they made in the past, affectionately called a little brat, out until late in the afternoon of the next day, does not let anyone kill their vibe, seeing their escape in a person, the echo of your own steps on a tile floor, the sensation of being the only one left, a way that seems to have no end.

Eönwë  —  intimidating, has a soft side but only a few people see it, loves the forest, natural beauty, combat boots, deep thinker, false formality, a chord of music that breaks the silence, clouds rolling in, doesn't get angry but instead just fucking glares at you until you crumble, loves thunderstorms, mind like caverns, hands like stone, to hold or to hurt, heavy irises, earthquake tempers, unrequited love, soft voice, they know you whether you know them or not, lingering touches, people watching, the smell of old books and rain, faint music in the distance, won't let others break their friend's hearts, clearing their throat as a type of warning, moral righteousness, faith in humanity, towering buildings.

Mairon  —  sarcastic comments with a smile, glares that could kill, speaking in such a pretentious way that no one even understands you, obsession over studies, being a good person but getting corrupted, setting fire to the city, eyes like flames, heeled boots, soft aching hands buried in messy hair, ancient ruins, cups of tea gone cold, flawless eyeliner, impulsive decisions, false pretences, sickly sweet smiles, daunting realisations, masquerade masks, too stubborn to admit their regrets, waking up from a nightmare, hands cold to the bone, chest pains, the sharp cold of winter, rotting apples, dark circles under the eyes from not sleeping for days, hands stripped from over-washing.

So! Still trying to work out my masterlist and first few posts I have pre-written. In the meantime, please enjoy this messy aesthetic thingy.

[cosmosis]

s. todoroki - fantasy + hybrid au (pt. 1)

inspired slightly by @willowser ‘s dragon king bakugo story

Bred specifically for both supernatural beauty and terminal murder, Shouto Todoroki grew to realize that he is no longer human, but a beast.  Hybrid breeders intricately crafted him to be the perfect specimen; a high-end snow leopard with the killing instincts of a true carnivore, but the aesthetics of a misunderstood prince. 

Which is exactly what he was. 

Shouto was property, his existence only being for entertainment of the King, and to kill. Every day of his life was spent either within the cold bars of a cage, or the bloodstained colosseum where he fought for his life. All will only see the surface of Shouto; a well-bred, lethal animal. Not a human in the slightest, not a person in the slightest. 

Yet, he can speak, he can observe, and he can change his appearance to resemble man. 

. . .

Caught for stealing fruit from a man, the royal guards of the King took you by arms to be mercilessly thrown into the colosseum. Despite your foul screams and curses for freedom, you were forced through the massive gates of the area, left with nothing but your pride, and a pocket knife. 

You were tossed in, and immediately, you scrambled back towards the now closed gates, two guards grinning at you with malicious smirks. Through your claws and pries to open the gates, the two men took their leave, leaving you for dead. 

You could hear the cheers and cries of numerous townspeople echoing as you turn around, gazing towards the distant other end of the arena. A dark shadow casts over the opposing end of you, and you can only see two feline eyes. 

A deep, ferocious growl omits across from you, coursing a violent chill down your spice. You hear the soft paws of an animal, and all you can do is clutch your pocket knife for comfort. 

The beast slowly, steadily steps forward into the light of the sun, finally illuminating himself to your gaze. 

The way the leopard pierces you with his gaze, the way he slowly paces around you in a circle makes you feel as though you’re being hunted, that you’re the prey destined to die. 

The sheer size of the leopard scares you, and you’re almost certain that you would lose if you tried to defend yourself against him. The claws, the glare, and the teeth say it all for you. 

The crowd all suddenly goes silent as the giant leopard pauses in front of you, as if they all know what’s about to happen next. Anticipation rises, and all the audience seems to want to leap out of their seats. 

You can feel the leopards’ gaze as you clutch your knife with shaky hands, and he looks directly into your own eyes. 

You freeze, and you see all the untended wounds and scratches on the animal. Though his fur coat shines silver, there’s a bleak sag to it that you can only see if you squint. Despite the lingering feeling of death nearby, you cannot help but have sympathy for the creature.  

He just looks so sad, and so very miserable. 

You drop your knife to the ground with a ‘clank’, taking a deep breath to yourself. 

Despite all the fear that you feel, you let out your hand in front of the beast, urging him to sniff at your hand like you would a stray cat. Because that’s what he is; a cat. 

The leopard surprisingly flinches, sensing no threat to your hand, yet still ogling at your tiny hand like he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

The crowd’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. 

“You sniff it, y’know?“ You mutter, so kindly, so softly. 

Shouto understands, and he hears you. There’s no knife on you, no harm to you. Should he listen?

He does. 

Ever-so-slowly, the leopard takes a step forward, looking hesitant to smell your hand. Eventually though, he does, pressing his wet nose to your hand to sniff at the soft skin of your knuckles. 

His previously ferocious eyes dilate at your scent, and Shouto starts getting deeper into it, discreetly, shyly rubbing his face all over your hand, and even your wrists.  He’s never smelled something so sweet, and so wonderful. You’re too kind to be real, too lovely to even possibly be human, a species that Shouto believes to be cruel, foul, and malicious. 

Murmurs start to file through the crowd, and there’s a confused, unsatisfied energy in the air. Where is the fight, the bloodshed? 

You peer upwards at the King’s viewing balcony, noticing the royal discreetly speak to a few guards. Shouto continues to rub himself onto you, and you take that as gentle permission to scratch his head.

From there, he just melts, provided with the affection and love he’s been craving so long for- a starved man in front of a platter of food. 

“Alright, missy, we’re gonna have to take it over from here.“

You hear the voices of the guards from earlier, and instantly, you scowl in pure disgust. Both guards host spears in their hands, and the giant metal gates slowly swing open. 

“Step away from the beast!“

One of the guards barks at you, and you’re frozen, unsure of what to do. 

“I said, step away!“

One guard takes initiative, charging towards you with a metal spear in clutch. You surge back to save yourself from the guard, and you regretfully tear your hand from Shouto. 

Just as a guard manages to meet his spear with your heart, Shouto snarls unlike you’ve ever heard before, shattering the wooden bar of the spear with his jaws. The guard cowers away, and Shouto pounces for him, scratching the guard’s face enough to draw blood. You gasp in horror, and Shouto spots the very obviously open gate behind the remaining guard.  

You almost think that Shouto goes to bite your arm off when he mouths the sleeve of your dress, growling and tugging at you towards the open gates. Frantically, Shouto tugs you, then looks at his own back, seemingly ushering you to quickly!!! get onto his back. 

It takes you a moment to realize, but you quickly scramble onto Shouto’s back, desperately gripping his fur coat to keep yourself from tumbling off. 

Instantly, Shouto takes the queue to run, as fast as he ever has before; for freedom, for the chance to escape this hellhole. The leopard charges for the gates at full speed, and you curl yourself into Shouto’s back, pressing your cheek against his fur. 

Both you and leopard burst through the gates, escaping the shouts of all the audience, and the curses of the guards. Shouto runs off, dashing through the townsmarket and crashing through numerous carts and tents filled with goods. 

At last, you see the distant flutter of trees, and you hesitantly turn around, ensuring yourself that no guards have managed to follow the two of you. There isn’t, and you huff a sigh of relief as Shouto slows his run into the forest. 

[darknesseddiem]

𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐳: 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝟔𝟔

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: A fleeting glimpse into your life in Paris reveals a tapestry woven with the threads of contentment. Amidst the quaint charm of your bustling bakery, you found solace in the artistry of your craft and the warmth of the friendships you cultivated. Yet, like an unyielding specter, the echoes of your past refuse to fade into obscurity.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, mentions of sad past, descriptions of panic attack, abusive husband (not with Reader), child loss, mentions of violence, let me know if I missed one

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,6K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

As you stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Paris, the cold morning air greeted you like an old friend, its crisp touch sending shivers down your spine. The gentle breeze danced around you, carrying with it the delicate flakes of snow that twirled and pirouetted before gently settling on the ground. Each flake seemed to have a life of its own, weaving intricate patterns as they landed, transforming the city into a winter wonderland.

The frost had painted everything in sight with its delicate touch, leaving a shimmering coat on the streets and a soft blanket on the rooftops of cars parked along the curb. The world around you was draped in white, as if nature had decided to cast a spell of serenity over the bustling city.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pastries from nearby bakeries. It was a tantalizing combination that teased your senses and stirred a pang of hunger in your stomach. Regret gnawed at you for not indulging in breakfast earlier, but there was a certain magic in the air that distracted you from your hunger.

Despite the chill in the air, there was a warmth in the atmosphere that came from the cozy cafes and bistros lining the streets. The soft glow of their lights spilled out onto the snow-covered sidewalks, inviting you to step inside and escape the cold. It was a scene straight out of a postcard, a picturesque moment frozen in time.

As you hurried through the streets of Paris, the weight of responsibility hung heavy on your shoulders. It wasn't your fault that the alarm clock had betrayed you, rudely jolting you awake much later than intended. In the frantic scramble to make it to the bakery on time, breakfast had become an afterthought, sacrificed in the race against the clock.

Despite the early hour, Paris was alive with a quiet energy, as if it were slowly awakening from its slumber. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, accompanied by the occasional clang of a passing tram. It was a peaceful scene, a moment of stillness before the city burst into life with the hustle and bustle of the day.

As you continued your morning stroll through the quiet streets of Paris, the familiar sounds of bicycle bells and the whirring of wheels filled the air, signaling the arrival of the teenage boys on their delivery rounds. With deft skill, they navigated the narrow streets, balancing baskets filled with fresh milk, warm bread, and delectable cakes destined for those who had no time to prepare their own breakfast.

The sight brought a smile to your lips as you watched them zip past, their youthful energy adding a touch of vibrancy to the serene morning scene. It was a reminder of the simple joys of everyday life in Paris, where tradition and modernity seamlessly coexisted, shaping the rhythm of the city.

A few more minutes of leisurely walking brought you closer to your destination, and soon the beautiful facade of your bakery came into view, standing out amidst the row of charming buildings with its inviting allure.

As you approached your bakery, known as "The Raven's Nest," your heart swelled with pride and affection. The building stood proudly amidst the Parisian streets, a striking monument to your passion for baking and your love of the Gothic aesthetic.

The neoclassical facade had been transformed into a dramatic display of Gothic architecture, with dark gray stone walls rising high, adorned with intricate carvings of ravens and other macabre motifs. Instead of gold and silver, the decorations gleamed with accents of crimson red and midnight black, casting an aura of mystery and allure.

Gone were the delicate pink flowers; in their place were arrangements of deep red roses and black dahlias, their petals adding a touch of romanticism to the Gothic ambiance. The upstairs balconies were adorned with wrought iron railings, their designs reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals, adding to the dramatic silhouette of the building.

The large panes and windows remained, but now they were framed by heavy velvet curtains, allowing only slivers of light to filter through, adding to the mysterious atmosphere within. Outside, the blue and white striped canvas awnings had been replaced with elegant black ones, providing shade to the sidewalk and creating a sense of intimacy for customers who chose to linger outside.

As you gazed upon the transformed facade of your bakery, a sense of awe washed over you. It was more than just a place of business; it was a reflection of your personality and your deepest desires. The Raven's Nest had become a sanctuary for different people who longed for a place in the world, a place where they could indulge in decadent pastries and rich, dark coffee while surrounded by the beauty of the macabre.

You noticed a familiar figure standing patiently outside, his silhouette softened by the early morning light. Antoine, the sweet old man who had become not only a loyal customer but also a cherished friend, was already eagerly awaiting the opening of the bakery.

Your heart swelled with gratitude as you recalled the countless acts of kindness Antoine had bestowed upon you since the day you arrived in Paris, a stranger in a foreign city. It was he who had taken you under his wing, offering you shelter, sustenance, and employment at the factory he managed, when you had nowhere else to turn. His generosity and unwavering support had provided you with the stability and encouragement you needed to pursue your dream of owning a bakery.

From the humble beginnings of selling homemade pastries from your tiny apartment to the triumphant moment of purchasing the building that now housed The Raven's Nest, Antoine had been there every step of the way, cheering you on with his gentle smile and wise words of encouragement.

But it was not just his material support that had made Antoine invaluable to you; it was his unwavering belief in your abilities and his boundless faith in your dreams that had truly touched your heart. He had seen potential in you when you could barely see it in yourself, and his steadfast presence had been a guiding light through the darkest of times.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you approached Antoine, the jangle of your keys punctuating the quiet morning air. His presence, steadfast and comforting, never failed to bring a sense of warmth to your heart.

"I hope you didn't wait too long for me," you greeted him, the concern evident in your voice.

Antoine turned towards you, his eyes twinkling with affection as his mustache arched gracefully with his smile. "My dear, the anticipation only makes the coffee taste sweeter," he replied, his voice carrying the gentle lilt of a cherished friend.

His words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. With a grateful nod, you took a moment to admire the way the morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden floors.

"Lucky for you, you won't have to wait a whole day," you remarked playfully, gesturing towards the inviting doors. With practiced ease, you slipped into your apron, the familiar weight grounding you in the rhythm of the day.

As you set about your tasks, Antoine settled into his favorite corner, the morning newspaper cradled in his hands like an old friend. His presence brought a sense of calm to the bustling kitchen, his unwavering support a beacon of reassurance in the midst of the morning rush.

"Do you need help, ma chérie?" he offered, his tone filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head with a grateful smile, the warmth of his fatherly concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. "Not today, Monsieur," you reassured him, the sound of your voice mingling with the soft hum of the kitchen appliances. "But your coffee will be ready in just a moment."

With a contented nod, Antoine returned his attention to the newspaper, his weathered hands turning the pages with practiced ease. And as you worked side by side, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baking pastries, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the friendship you shared with Antoine, a friendship built on kindness, mutual respect, and the simple joy of sharing a quiet moment in the heart of your treasure.

The morning light filtered through the windows as the sound of footsteps echoed through the shop, signaling the arrival of your employees and co-workers. Among them, Florence was always the first to arrive, her punctuality a testament to her dedication and reliability.

With a warm smile, you greeted Florence as she entered, her presence bringing a sense of cheer to the bustling shop. Antoine, ever the gentleman, rose from his seat and removed his gray beret, a gesture of respect for the sweet woman who had captured his heart from the moment he met her.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Antoine! Good morning, Mon Cher!" Florence exclaimed sweetly, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she addressed both of you.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle! And I've already said you can call me Antoine," he replied with a gentle smile, his voice filled with affection.

You watched the interaction with a fond smile, knowing well the bond that had formed between Antoine and Florence. Theirs was a connection that went beyond mere friendship, a deep and abiding affection that was evident to anyone who spent even a moment in their company.

As Antoine returned to his seat, a soft blush coloring his cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for the two of them. They were, without a doubt, the sweetest and kindest people you had ever known, and they deserved every ounce of happiness that life had to offer.

Encouraging their budding romance had been an easy decision for you. After all they had been through, the trials and tribulations they had faced with unwavering grace and resilience, it was only fitting that they find solace and joy in each other's company.

As Florence turned towards the kitchen, her eyes caught sight of you standing there, quietly observing the exchange between Antoine and herself. A warm smile graced her lips, and she made her way over to you, her steps light and graceful. It was part of her daily routine, her motherly affection spilling over to envelop everyone in her path.

With a gentle embrace, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in her comforting hug. It was a gesture you had come to cherish, a moment of solace in the midst of the bustling bakery.

"Did you have a good night?" she inquired, her voice soft and caring. "The cold increased a little during midnight, did you remember to stay warm and cozy?"

You nodded, leaning into her touch as she stroked your hair with gentle affection. "Yeah, I was so tired that I barely noticed the cold," you replied honestly. "It was a surprise when I woke up this morning and saw all that snow."

As the two of you parted from the hug, you busied yourself with pouring Antoine's coffee, the rich aroma filling the air with warmth and comfort.

"Don’t even get me started," Florence chimed in, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I almost didn’t want to get out of bed today. You know how I love this cold weather. It’s perfect for staying at home, watching some movies while drinking hot chocolate and baking cinnamon rolls."

You couldn't help but smile at her words, the image of cozy winter days filling your mind with a sense of nostalgia and longing. Florence had a way of warming your heart with just a few simple words, her kindness and compassion shining through even on the coldest of days.

As you looked into her eyes, filled with that unique and kind essence that only she possessed, you felt a surge of gratitude wash over you. Despite everything life had thrown her way, Florence remained a beacon of light and love, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and goodness to be found.

The coffee machine chimed merrily, its cheerful melody cutting through the serene atmosphere of the bakery kitchen like a symphony conductor signaling the start of a grand performance. You turned your attention from the conversation to the machine, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you attended to its beckoning call.

"When you say ‘movies,’ you mean watching Twilight, don’t you? Everyone knows it’s kind of a rule to watch all the movies when the mood gets like this," you quipped, your tone light and playful, the sparkle in your eyes reflecting the mischief dancing within.

Florence's laughter bubbled forth like a brook in springtime, filling the air with the sweet melody of her amusement. With a twinkle in her eye, she responded, "I’m talking about the classics: Ghost, Titanic, Pretty Woman… Not these vampire films that don’t have even a third of the romance they have."

The banter between you and Florence flowed effortlessly, a playful exchange of wit and humor that added a touch of levity to the morning routine. It was a dance you had perfected over countless mornings, each step choreographed with familiarity and ease.

As you poured the steaming coffee into Antoine's mug, you marveled at the unique blend of flavors that defined his morning ritual. With a spoonful of rum and a hint of vanilla essence, it was a concoction that defied convention yet somehow managed to tantalize the taste buds with its decadent allure.

"How dare you!" you laughed, shaking your head in mock indignation as you handed the steaming cup of coffee to Antoine. “Just know that Edward Cullen is a romantic.”

“I’m sure Edward Cullen has his own charm, but not as romantic as my old friend, Frank Sinatra,” Antoine interjected with a grin, his eyes twinkling with the memories of days gone by.

And then, with a flourish, he began to sing, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom. The lyrics of a timeless love song spilled forth from his lips, each word dripping with emotion and longing.

"Keep that breathless charm, won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you," he sang, his voice a rich tapestry of passion and sentiment.

You watched in awe as Antoine's serenade filled the kitchen, infusing the space with a sense of timeless romance.

As the conversation about Frank Sinatra's timeless romance and Edward Cullen's brooding charm reached its peak, the familiar jingle of the bakery door announced the arrival of another member of your close-knit team.

Steve Harrington, your best friend and manager, sauntered into the bakery with his characteristic flair, his brown locks impeccably styled with a generous amount of hairspray. Dressed in a polo shirt and light wash mom jeans, he exuded effortless charm and confidence, a fact that was not lost on anyone who crossed paths with him.

"Good morning, Antoine, good morning Florence, and good morning, my sweetie," Steve greeted with his usual charm, his words accompanied by a playful wink that earned him an eye-roll from you.

As Florence enveloped Steve in her warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy affection between them. Steve had always been like a son to Florence, receiving the love and care that he had been deprived of from his own parents, who only seemed to remember his existence when they needed something from him or when they were in the midst of a fight.

"How was your night? Did you remember to turn on the heater? You know you get colds easily, and yesterday it was intensely cold," She asked, her concern genuine as the boy leaned into Florence's embrace.

"As soon as I saw the snow starting to fall, I turned it on," Steve reassured her, his voice warm with affection. "Robin, on the other hand, asked me to let you know that she’s not coming today. She caught a cold and is in bed."

A furrow of worry creased Florence's brow at the news, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. "Oh, I’ll make some soup and bring it to her for lunch," she declared, her voice laced with concern.

"With this cold, we shouldn’t have that much movement, so it’s okay," you added, a reassuring smile on your lips.

But your optimism was short-lived. As the morning wore on, the bakery began to fill with customers seeking refuge from the biting cold outside. The scent of freshly baked pastries and steaming cups of coffee filled the air, drawing people in like moths to a flame.

The aroma of freshly baked croissants and brioches wafted through the air, weaving its irresistible spell over the bustling bakery. The streets of Paris hummed with the energy of the tourist season, drawing visitors from far and wide to the charming little establishment nestled on Saint-Dominique street. To them, it was more than just a bakery—it was a sanctuary of indulgence, a haven where the simple act of savoring a pastry felt like a glimpse of heaven.

Amidst the lively chatter of patrons and the tinkling of cutlery, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of your work. With practiced hands, you kneaded the dough for more delicious crepes, the anticipation of creating something truly exquisite fueling your movements.

Around you, the tables were filled with eager customers, their faces alight with excitement as they savored each delectable bite. Children jostled each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse through the glass window that separated the kitchen from the main dining area. To them, the sight of the bustling kitchen was nothing short of magical—a glimpse behind the curtain into a world where dreams were made of sugar and flour.

As you worked, you couldn't help but admire the scene before you—the laughter of families, the animated conversations of friends, the quiet moments of solitude punctuated by the simple pleasure of a warm cup of coffee and a freshly baked treat. It was a tableau of life in all its vibrant hues, a reminder of the joy that could be found in the simplest of moments.

And as you glanced out at the sea of smiling faces, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in your heart. For in this little bakery on Saint-Dominique, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, you had created more than just a place to enjoy a pastry—you had created a haven, a sanctuary of sweetness and light where every bite carried with it a taste of pure joy.

As the bakers worked their magic in the kitchen, their antics and playful banter added an extra layer of entertainment to the bustling atmosphere of the bakery. With flour-dusted aprons and mischievous grins, they teased the audience with little tricks and pirouettes, their movements fluid and graceful, bringing a radiant sparkle to the eyes of those present.

Customers chuckled and applauded as the bakers showcased their skills, their laughter mingling with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pastries. It was a scene straight out of a charming French film, where the everyday hustle and bustle of a bakery transformed into a spectacle of joy and delight.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you couldn't help but notice a group of people dressed in expensive suits and fedora hats sitting in the corner of the bakery. Their sharp attire stood out against the backdrop of casual elegance, and their demeanor hinted at an air of mystery and intrigue.

Curiosity piqued, you observed them discreetly as you went about serving other customers. Their eyes darted around the bakery, scanning the room with a sense of purpose as if they were searching for someone or something. There was an aura of secrecy about them, a silent tension that hung in the air like a veil.

Intrigued by their presence, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this group than met the eye. With a sense of caution tinged with curiosity, you made a mental note to keep an eye on them as the morning unfolded, wondering what secrets they might hold and what role they might play in the bustling drama of the bakery.

As you replaced the macarons in the display case, your mind couldn't shake off the presence of those mysterious customers in the corner of the bakery. With a sense of unease gnawing at your insides, you decided to seek out Steve for answers.

"Hey Steve, have you seen those people around here?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual as you glanced over at the group in question.

Steve glanced in their direction, his brow furrowing in thought. "Uh, I’m not sure… Maybe they’re the buyers from the building across the street," he suggested with a shrug, his attention quickly diverted by a customer approaching the counter.

As you continued your conversation with Steve, you felt a sudden chill run down your spine. Instinctively, you looked back at the mysterious group, only to find one of the men locking eyes with you. His gaze felt like a weight upon your soul, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, the man said something to the others at the table, who turned to look at you with a strange intensity. Their eyes bore into yours, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of recognition wash over you. It was as if you knew them from somewhere, but the memory remained elusive, just beyond the reach of your consciousness.

A wave of unease washed over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Sensing the danger, you quickly excused yourself from the conversation with Steve and retreated to the back of the bakery, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings as you tried to compose yourself.

But the feeling of dread lingered, like a shadow cast across your thoughts. Something told you that those people were not who they appeared to be, and that their presence spelled trouble. And as you struggled to calm your racing heart, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were about to be drawn into something far more sinister than a simple bakery business.

As you retreated to the safety of the storeroom, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum of warning. Leaning against the sturdy wooden door, you felt the cool surface against your back, grounding you in the present moment.

Your entire body trembled with fear, and cold sweat dampened your brow as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of your painful past danced like ghosts, haunting you with memories you had long tried to bury. Tears welled up, tracing silent paths down your cheeks and onto your collar, a silent testament to the turmoil raging within.

"Pull yourself together, they're just customers, you're safe," you whispered to yourself, the words a mantra of reassurance that fell on deaf ears. The fear gripped you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath.

With trembling hands, you took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. You couldn't afford to let your fear consume you, not now, not when there were customers to attend to and a bakery to run. Steeling yourself, you pushed away from the door and opened your eyes, determined to face whatever awaited you on the other side.

To your surprise, you found Florence standing there, her expression a mix of concern and compassion. She must have sensed your distress and followed you to the storeroom, her motherly instincts kicking in to offer comfort and support.

Without a word, she reached out and enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if to shield you from the storm raging outside. In her arms, you found solace, a sanctuary from the chaos and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm you.

And as you buried your face in her shoulder, allowing yourself to be held by the warmth of her embrace, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. With Florence by your side, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, with courage and resilience.

For in the safety of her arms, you found not only comfort but also strength—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always light to be found in the embrace of those who cared for you.

"Oh Mon Cher, you’re so pale, I saw you running here and I was scared thinking something had happened," Florence murmured, her voice laced with concern as she held you tightly in her arms.

Florence was more than just a coworker or a friend—she was a pillar of strength, a survivor who had endured unimaginable hardships and emerged stronger than ever. Divorced from her abusive husband after years of suffering in silence, she had found refuge and purpose within the walls of Raven's Nest.

It had been a desperate plea for a job that had brought her to your doorstep, her eyes filled with determination and resilience even in the face of adversity. She had begged for the opportunity to work, even if it meant starting from the bottom and cleaning the bathrooms.

You had taken her in without hesitation, recognizing the fire that burned within her despite the scars of her past. And as she poured her heart and soul into her work, you had watched in awe as she blossomed before your eyes, her spirit unbroken despite the trials she had endured.

But behind her warm smile and gentle demeanor lay a pain that ran deep, a wound that refused to heal. It was a pain born from the loss of her son, a sweet angel whose life had been cut short by the senseless violence of his own father.

The memory of that tragic night haunted Florence like a specter, its ghostly presence a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate. She had fought tooth and nail to protect her son, but in the end, she had been powerless to save him from the hands of the man who was supposed to love and cherish them both.

As Florence held you in her arms, her embrace a lifeline in the midst of the storm, you couldn't help but feel a surge of compassion for the woman who had endured so much loss and pain. And as you stood together in the quiet sanctuary of the storeroom, surrounded by the comforting scent of flour and sugar, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's love and resilience.

“I just… I think I've been working too much, Florence. Don’t worry, I'm fine," you murmured, seeking solace in her comforting presence.

Florence's warm embrace enveloped you like a protective shield, her maternal instincts kicking in as she held you close. "You know you can count on me for anything, right? Take good care of yourself, my girl," she whispered, her words a gentle reminder of the unwavering support and love she offered freely to all who crossed her path.

With a grateful smile, you leaned into her embrace, finding solace in the familiar comfort of her arms. In that fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that only Florence could provide.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and you reluctantly pulled away, knowing that there was work to be done and customers to attend to. With a shared glance, you and Florence returned to your respective tasks, diving back into the whirlwind of activity that filled the bakery.

Throughout the day, the bakery buzzed with a vibrant energy, the air alive with laughter and conversation. Children darted about excitedly, their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of the delectable treats on display. Tourists ventured inside, their broken French mingling with the melodic tones of the locals as they placed their orders with eager anticipation.

Meanwhile, the pastry chefs worked tirelessly behind the scenes, their hands moving with practiced precision as they crafted each confection with love and care.

The weight of the day's events hung heavy on your shoulders as you made your way home through the bustling streets of Paris. Despite the comforting glow of the streetlights and the steady stream of people passing by, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

With each glance over your shoulder, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed your every move. You quickened your pace, the click-clack of your shoes against the pavement echoing in the night air as you navigated the labyrinthine streets of the city.

Finally, you reached the safety of your home, the familiar sight of your doorstep a welcome relief. Fumbling for your keys, you hurriedly unlocked the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place a comforting reassurance of security.

Stepping inside, you felt the tension drain from your body as you closed the door behind you. The familiar warmth and coziness of your home enveloped you like a soft blanket, easing the knots of anxiety that had formed in your stomach.

With a sigh of relief, you set about your evening routine, the familiar rituals serving as a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves. Dinner was a simple affair, hastily prepared but satisfying nonetheless. You fed Edward, your faithful feline companion, his soft purrs a comforting backdrop to the quiet of the evening.

After dinner, you indulged in a long, relaxing bath, the warm water washing away the cares of the day and leaving you feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. As you soaked in the tub, the tension slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.

After drying off and slipping into your pajamas—a worn blouse, a pair of soft panties, and cozy socks—you settled into bed, the soft embrace of the blankets cocooning you in warmth. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the gentle rhythm of your breath lull you into a peaceful slumber, knowing that tomorrow was a new day, filled with endless possibilities.

As you prepared to settle into bed for the night, a familiar sense of unease washed over you, creeping like tendrils of fog into the corners of your mind. The sensation of danger prickled at your senses, setting your nerves on edge and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite the comforting warmth of your cozy bedroom, a chill settled over you, wrapping you in its icy embrace. Your heart quickened its pace, pounding against your chest like a frantic drumbeat as adrenaline surged through your veins.

With a trembling hand, you reached for the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow across the room as you scanned the shadows for any sign of threat. But the darkness offered no answers, only deepening the sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air.

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the curtains seemed to echo with the ominous whisper of danger. Your breath caught in your throat, shallow and ragged as you struggled to calm the rising tide of panic within you.

You knew you should call the police, seek help, but fear held you captive, rendering you powerless to move. The weight of uncertainty pressed down upon you, suffocating and oppressive.

With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, you braced yourself for whatever darkness the night might bring, clinging to the flickering flame of hope that whispered softly in the recesses of your mind.

As you stood frozen in fear, your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The sensation of danger loomed over you like a dark cloud, suffocating you with its oppressive weight.

Chills ran down your spine, sending shivers through your body as if you were caught in the grip of an icy vice. Your blood felt like it was freezing and burning simultaneously, a tumultuous storm raging within you.

Nervousness and anxiety consumed you, gnawing at your insides with relentless intensity. Every fiber of your being screamed for action, for escape, but your body remained paralyzed, held captive by fear's icy grip.

A knock on the door shattered the suffocating silence, jolting you out of your trance-like state. With trembling limbs, you made your way downstairs, each step feeling like an eternity as dread gnawed at your soul.

Approaching the peephole with hesitant fingers, you braced yourself for what lay beyond. And as you peered through the small opening, your heart plummeted into the depths of despair.

There, standing before you, was a man in a suit, his features obscured by the dim light of the night. But even in the darkness, you recognized him, his presence igniting a primal fear deep within you.

"It can't be..." you whispered to yourself, your voice barely above a breath.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you slowly opened the door, your hands trembling with fear. And as you looked into the man's eyes, all the blood drained from your face, leaving you pale and trembling.

"Hello, Sunny. Did you miss me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, a sinister whisper that echoed in the depths of your soul.

Everything had been perfect that day, until it wasn't anymore. And now, faced with the embodiment of your darkest nightmares, you knew that the horrors of the past had come back to haunt you once again.

[albarrancabrera]

Albarran Cabrera   —–   Instagram

The Mouth of Krishna

#347 Platinum/Palladium print #348 Platinum/Palladium print

We’d like to thank @ibasho___gallery and @sieboldhuis for thinking on us to be part of the Wabi-Sabi exhibition @sieboldhuis starting on 23 September. Japanese definitions of beauty have been developed over many generations. Japan has focused on the natural world adopting a sensitivity to and appreciation for nature. The Japanese have developed a distinct sense of aesthetics to depict different kinds of beauty, and among them we find the concepts wabi and sabi. After the Heian period, during the Medieval Times and inspired by Buddhism a new set of aesthetic values are developed centered in “the lack/absence of apparent external beauty”, discovering “another new beauty”, more elevated and sober based on simplicity, nature, impermanence, poverty, imperfection, coldness. Wabi means “poverty.” To be poor, that is, not dependent on things worldly and yet to feel inwardly the presence of something of the highest value. Wabi is to be satisfied with a little hut, like the log cabin of Thoreau, to stay content with the contemplation of Nature. Sabi literally means “loneliness.” Sabi consists in rustic imperfection. In poetry Sabi stands for “austere and solitary beauty.” Sabi suggests the passing of time and the patina this passing produces in the worldly things destined to vanish. Wabi sabi represents rustic and desolate beauty that correlates with a dark, bleak beauty that can be easily overlooked; but that it can be found everywhere: such as a small worn-down hut hidden in the forest, the shy first green sprouts fighting their way out in the snow in a high-mountain village. Wabi sabi is linked with a discreet beauty in the colourless, the old, and the fragile. In short, the beauty of a cold, bleak, solitary, wintry landscape that is used as a symbol representing and suggesting the impermanence of men. We could say that new aesthetics places us on the way to an imperfect beauty that leads us directly to the infinite beauty.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙑 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

Cw: no witty title, it's just headcanons about their weather preferences.

MILES MORALES is a totally a spring/autumn kind of guy, maybe slightly inclined towards fall, he likes the cafes and overall aesthetic, drawing on rainy days typa stuff. And he likes the cold weather outfits better, he doesn't get that cold, but his mom definitely tells him to wear more layers of clothing because it's cold and he'll get sick.

Heat resistance: 6/10

Cold resistance: 7/10

GWEN STACY is a summer girl, surprisingly. However, her heat tolerance is very bad, so it's common to her to have a killer headache after a beach day, she says it's worth it, she also sunburns really easily and has to apply sunscreen in copious amounts. She doesn't dislike the cold, but I think her favorite part of winter is the snow, she loves snowball fights (snowball wars, to her) and hot cocoa, she doesn't like spring as much since she became spider-woman, she doesn't have terrible allergies, but she has some, and it gets hard to breathe under the mask.

Heat resistance: 4/10

Cold resistance: 7/10

PETER B. PARKER is also an autumn enjoyer, he loves Halloween, loves the occasional rain, and it loves that the color palette reminds him of Mary Jane, he's cheesy like that. He likes winter too, mostly Christmas (I headcanon him as partly jewish, but he celebrates Christmas, you cannot tell me this man doesn't leave cookies for Santa), summer is not his favorite part of the year, but he learned to love it for his wife.

Heat resistance: 5/10

Cold resistance: 9/10

HOBIE BROWN has no preferences, I mean, he has them, but they're constantly changing. He likes winter/fall clothes better, but it doesn't matter, because this motherfucker has the best heat tolerance ever, he doesn't even break a sweat, it's 40°c outside and he's wearing a leather coat and combat boots while Gwen is becoming a puddle on the floor. He likes to eat ice cream, no matter the season, he also bites ice lollies/popsicles. 💔

Heat resistance: 10/10

Cold resistance: 8/10

PAVITR PRABHAKAR loves spring, he doesn't like that valentine's day is in winter, he thinks it should be in spring!! It's much nicer!! He also likes the festivals that occur that time of the year. He has mild allergies but not enough to make him dislike this beautiful time of the year. He likes the rest of seasons equally, but spring takes the grand prize by a long shot. He doesn't have particularly bad cold resistance, but he likes wearing a lot of knitted items.

Heat resistance: 7/10

Cold resistance: 7/10

MIGUEL O'HARA is a winter person. I think he really enjoyed summers when he had Gabriela, because she was on vacation and they did cool summer activities together. But now that time of the year brings him sadness, and he never loved the summer to start with, he doesn't like to sweat.

Heat resistance: 5/10

Cold resistance: 8/10

JESSICA DREW likes spring, she likes cold strawberry lemonade, maybe a beer after fixing her bike, he likes to get flowers for herself and be gifted flowers. She also strikes me as a morning person, so she loves those healthy breakfasts with fruits and granola. She likes having the summer vibe without the heat. She's another hot cocoa lover, but she wants to perfect the best recipe, and tries every winter, and she's a sucker for maple syrup, and can't wait to spend winters with his child.

Heat resistance: 8/10

Cold resistance: 7/10

MARGO KESS likes winter too, but it'd be most appropriate to say it's late autumn she likes staying indoors, but being able to go for a walk or simply step out of the house without a blizzard, she likes the freedom it provides, it doesn't force you indoors, it just makes it easier. She's adores the cottagecore spring though, but it's mostly the aesthetic, but it does feel nice to have some warmth hitting your skin after winter.

Heat resistance: 5/10

Cold resistance: 6/10

PETER PARKER aka Spider-Noir doesn't have much of a preference, his world doesn't have colors, so he can't fully appreciate spring, winter feels the most natural to him, but he'll pick summer because he likes seeing his Mary Jane in summer dresses. He has average tolerance for any climate, so he's quite indifferent.

Heat resistance: 6/10

Cold resistance: 6/10

PENI PARKER likes summer! She likes going to the pool, eating ice cream, going to convenience stores to buy icy treats, loves summer fruits, summer really cheers her up, spring is a close second though. She still likes winter, mostly the festivities.

Heat resistance: 9/10

Cold resistance: 8/10

GAYATRI SINGH likes spring, this is due Pavitr's influence, she always liked spring, but seeing him so hyped really pulls her heart strings, she also likes celebrating Sikh new year with her father, she has good childhood memories. She does hate something, and that's SWEAT, she hates it, she can stand sweaty hands, but she'd distract the other person and wipe her hands in desperation, and I'm sure she's the type of person who'd leave the bed because Pavitr was sweaty, or who'd take a cold shower in the middle of the night because of this. So summer is not for her, early spring is her favorite time. She also enjoys autumn a lot.

Heat resistance: 4/10

Cold resistance: 6/10

GANKE LEE is a winter lover through and through, he likes the snow, has mixed feelings about Seollal, but loves it most of the time, and his favorite part is staying inside drinking a hot beverage. He loves winter but has poor tolerance to the cold, like Gwen and summer, so he's freezing most of the time, but it's okay (he'll steal all the sweaters Miles doesn't use).

Heat resistance: 5/10

Cold resistance: 3/10

MILES G. MORALES was one of those kids whose nose constantly bled during the summer, he also fainted a couple times, he's embarrassed by it, so he always has a fan near him, and eats a lot of ice cream and cold drinks to lower his body temperature. He can't bring himself to hate summer though, it's his mother favorite time of the year, and he's a mama's boy. His favorite time of the year is also fall, because the weather isn't that extreme and he still gets to enjoy the cold.

Heat resistance: 2/10

Cold resistance: 9/10

RIO MORALES loves summer with her whole heart, she's the mom that makes caldo when it's hot like hell outside, she loves going to the farmer's market to buy fresh fruit, and she loves having a girl's night with her friends during the summer. She loathes the cold, not because she can't resist it, but because she is paranoid about her and her family getting sick. She used to give Miles those weird ass concoctions that claimed to solve every illness, she still threatens to give it to him when he's leaving home without a jacket. She trusts vic vaporub with her life.

Heat resistance: 10/10

Cold resistance: 7/10

JEFFERSON DAVIS is fucking cold blooded, when it's hot outside he acts like a lizard bathing in the rays of sunlight. Obviously his favorite season is summer. He wears so many layers under his police uniform he needs a bigger size during the winter. Jefferson loves Brooklyn and could never leave, but it's SO COLD, he has asked Rio more than once, "honey, do you ever feel like going back to Puerto Rico?" And she's like "Jeff what the hell???".

Heat resistance: 10/10

Cold resistance: 1/10

MARY JANE WATSON loves new year's eve and Christmas, winter really brings back beautiful memories of her youth with Peter, but MJ is a summer gal at heart. She has a (strictly monogamous) hot girl summer every year, she likes feeling sexy and desired by her husband and doesn't want to take the spark for granted. She loves taking Mayday to the beach with her, and buys her the cutest toddler bathing suits, they regularly buy matching ones, MJ wearing a bikini and May on a frilly onesie. Unlike the other snowbunnies in this post, she doesn't sunburn easily, just gets a lot more freckles. She still doesn't leave the sun screen behind, ever.

Heat resistance: 8/10

Cold resistance: 8/10

[frannyzooey]

Huge thank you to @pedrostories for hosting this incredible event — I can’t imagine the work and organization that went into it, and I am so thankful for you all!

This is a @pedrostories Secret Santa gift for the wonderfully kind @meandorla ❤️

I hope you don’t mind that I went through your blog and borrowed some of your beautiful photographs for this banner and for the story. I tried to match the aesthetics of your blog to the story and your prompt, and I hope you like it!

Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Mature, soft af

He moved in on a spring day — buds of new beginnings on the trees, the grass barely peeking green on the sloped hills. The air was crisp, refreshing against your cheeks when you walked over to greet him.

“Din,” he replied when you offered your name and then your hand, and when he shook it, you made a mental note about the ease in which he transferred the box he was holding from two hands to one.

His curls were wayward, unlike his gaze, which rested squarely on you. His dark brown strands ruffled gently in the breeze, the chestnut highlights picked up by the sun matching the ones in his eyes and when you smiled, he answered with a smaller one of his own.

Had you known that your words of welcome would be the few that you would say to him for months, you would have chosen them more carefully.

Close mouthed, Din wasn’t quite silent but not talkative either. The little interaction you had with him showed him careful with his words, as if speaking too many of them revealed too much and given that your schedules didn’t line up either, you found it hard to get to know him. Eventually, your self doubt assumed his lack of attempts to engage you in conversation were a sign that he didn’t like you. When it carried on that way for months, you took that to mean he actively disliked you.

You caught glimpses of him around: at the small shop in town, when he left in the morning for work, in the fields behind his house as he worked the soil — a weight of disappointment settled heavy in your chest every time you saw him after that, your imagined assumptions taking root.

The heat of that summer was just as stifling as your ache for him; your fingers longed to touch those silky curls.

“Just go talk to him,” your friend urged you for the millionth time over the phone as you sat curled on your couch; the crackling fire in the hearth warming the room and your feet. The first frost had appeared overnight, the sky descending in darkness earlier and earlier.

“I don’t know.” You looked outside into the night, towards his house. A square of light shone across the street, the glow a pictured frame surrounded by the dark and you willed him to walk past it, just to get a glimpse of him.

He didn’t, and you sighed.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” she said. “He could be over there, thinking about you for all you know.”

“Doubt it,” you replied.

Still, your heart leapt at the thought.

–

A sickness was what brought you together. A simple cold, one that lingered for days and he ended up knocking on your door to make sure everything was alright. He had noticed that you had a couple of packages outside your stoop; a white dusting of powdered snow covering them. It was unlike you not to shovel.

When you answered, he frowned at your appearance.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his concerned, direct way.

When you cinched your robe at the waist before reaching for the boxes, he offered to bring them inside for you. Once placed on your table, he turned and asked where your shovel was. Peering from the window, you watched him clear the path in brisk, efficient scoops and an hour later, he knocked on your door again. His curls damp with flakes of snow, his cheeks flushed with the cold under his sparse beard and in his hands, a pot.

Just like that, he was saying more than he ever had in words.

“I thought this might help?”

Letting him in and watching him get the soup settled on your stove, you asked him to stay and join you, preparing yourself for a no.

He flashed a dimple that you didn’t know he had; a new secret of his revealed.

“Sure. I’ll grab another bowl.”

–

One night turned into two, turned into four and pretty soon that close mouthed man was talking to you more than you had ever hoped.

Still, more often in actions than words, but when he did speak, you found him to have a quick humor, a dry down to the bone sort of sarcasm that you loved. He was an intent listener, his eyes tracing your every feature as you spoke as if they held the secret meaning to your words.

His face, in turn, was an open book when he really let you look at him and you loved the different shades of his eyes: warm in the sunlight of the afternoon, dark in the dim light of the evening, pitch black in the darkness of your living room just before he leaned in for a kiss.

A testing press of his mouth against yours, firmer when his hand cupped the nape of your neck to pull you closer and that same gray couch where he had first sat amongst your piles of crumpled tissues and a nest of blankets was where he laid you back into the cushions, settling himself solid and reassuring over you as he made space for himself between your thighs.

The want you had been feeling for months came back tenfold, thrumming through your veins and pouring out in the eagerness of your touch; your fingers finally pushing through those dark curls. You opened your mouth to let the slide of his tongue in, your thighs pressing tight around his torso and when he pulled back with a groan to peel your clothing off one piece at a time, you never felt as beautiful as you did then, bare on that couch.

He knelt on the floor between your thighs, his mouth just as worshipful as his hands, and you had arched into the slick, skillful warmth of it, crying out his name when he brought you to your peak. You had led him to your room after that, wanting nothing more than to map the planes of his body with your hands.

You did, taking your time touching what you had only dreamed of for months and he made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were too by the end of the night, not stopping until you both fell asleep from sated relief.

–

Morning came; a soft shaft of light illuminating your thin curtains. A cold blanket of white outside; a soft comforter of heat in. He held you to his chest as he watched you sleep, and traced the line of your eyebrow delicately with the side of his thumb, quietly reveling in your softness:

Your hair, your skin, your scent, the cloud of your bed.

Your thighs, your sighs, your plush lips when they brushed against his.

Your steady, slow breathing.

Your smile, when you woke.

–

Thinking back to your first few months, you thought it was funny now to think you ever thought he was indifferent when every one of his actions had always said the opposite. You see now that he loves you with a fierceness that’s transparent in all he does. If you’re watching closely, his displays of devotion are endless:

His hold; reassuring and solid.

Making you dinner; his low laugh, the dark curls at the nape of his neck; his broad back facing you..

Shoveling your walk; the efficient push of his shovel, his coat dusted with snow, the white puffs of his breath.

Caring for you, in whatever way you need him to; his careful listening, his validating words, his husky, low reassuring praise.

In the bed you share; his hands guiding you, worshiping you, the delicate, warm heat of his mouth on your skin as he fills you until you break.

His always direct words, when he cups your face and looks you straight in the eye.

“You are so beautiful.”

He says the statement constantly, as if it’s a fact of life that he knows and you don’t, but eventually he says it enough that you start to believe it. You had always felt like a burden to the ones that came before, but not with him. Never with him.

He came that night and stayed — something you didn’t think he would ever do, and it’s like your friend had been right all along. Like he had been waiting for you just like you had been waiting for him; your living room window a beacon of light in the darkness as he sat, just waiting for you to pass by.

gif by @anakin-skywalker ❤️

Merry Christmas my lovely! ❤️

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Ben Chilwell words: 880 so slightly over request: Ben Chilwell - no pref - 500 - 750 words - My birthday is the 20th Dec, Chilly’s is 21st Dec, so shopping for birthday gifts in among the Christmas gifts, a night away to celebrate both birthdays in a cabin with a hot tub, snow, real fire, smut, before the madness of Christmas and the Christmas fixture list kicks off…

You hadn’t known what to expect when Ben said that he was taking you away as a mini birthday treat for you both and an early christmas present. You didn’t want to think how much was spent to secure this cabin, what with anything surrounding children’s school holidays and Christmas was an automatic price hiker after all. You hadn’t been sure what to think when he’d told you to pack for a “cabin in the woods”. Which is hardly surprising considering your first thought was “I’ve seen how this movie plays out before”. 

Snow had already begun to fall before either of you had climbed from the car but seeing it fluttering down from the sky, between the branches and landing softly onto the building had made you grin from ear to ear. From the outside, it truly looked like a log cabin with its large logs stacked upon one another until it reached a thatched type roof, but once inside, you realise this was merely an aesthetic with most of the downstairs walling being exposed brick. 

With a large AGA cooker taking pride of place in the kitchen area which overlooked the raised decking in the backyard and an impressive open fire with a small basket of logs on either side of the fire proudly holding a sign stating to be used if cold - each basket containing wood with a burn time of 3-8 hours, enabling you to pick the best log for your ideal burning duration. 

Ben had dragged the suitcases from the car to the bedroom up the stairs which featured a much bigger window than you’d been expecting and already, you couldn’t wait to get snuggled up in there and look at the stars from beneath the covers. While he took care of that, you’d looked over the hamper in the kitchen. A handwritten card hoping that you enjoyed your stay and with it brought a selection of breakfast items, a bottle of wine and things for a light lunch including what smelt like a fresh baked loaf. Out on the decking beneath a quickly growing layer of snow, is what appears to be a hot tub. 

Ben found you unpacking the final bag while you put away the food and drink that he’d purchased. So far, it felt as though there wasn’t anything that Ben hadn’t thought of for this trip and you had to hand it to him, this had clearly been something on his mind for a long time for him to have planned this so perfectly. But that’s exactly what this day has been so far - perfect. 

The two of you spent the evening heating up the house and making sure the hot tub was all fired up and nice and hot ready for after the evening meal. The cabin emitted a beautiful warm glow which poured from the windows across the rapidly deepening snow as you’d cooked together. Something which you’d done many times before at home but here in this setting, it felt different - far more romantic if you dare state such a word for something as simple yet intimate as this. He looked at you in ways that made your heart feel as though it was on the verge of bursting. His kisses held promises of something else to come. 

-

Pressing a towel to your hair, you make your way out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. Ben is already sprawled out over the mattress in only his boxers, one hand laid on his stomach while the other holds his phone as he scrolls through social media with a concentrating expression. Despite now only being dressed in a vest top and shorts, you didn’t feel the cold like you had earlier

“I still can’t believe how clear it is here,” you comment as you enter the room, the large window grabbing your attention as it has each time you’ve walked in here. Even with all the trees surrounding the cabin, the sky is still more exposed than in London. Stars are brighter here than you’ve ever seen in the city and already your camera roll is now filled with tens of photos ready to be uploaded to insta once you’re back. “The view is amazing. You couldn’t have picked a better place.”

“Mmm,” Ben nods, lowering his phone to look at you, “was just thinking the same thing about the view.” The look he gives can almost, almost, makes up for the corniness of the sentence. And if the look didn’t, then the swelling in his boxers did.  You’d heard the saying “drinking them in” but only now do you fully understand the meaning of it. The way Ben takes in the sight of you is enough to feel wetness gathering where your thighs meet. Give it a bit longer and you’ll dampen your underwear and your nipples will strain against the shirt you wear. 

“Something interesting got your attention?” you ask him as you fold up the towel nonchalantly and place it on top of the dresser. Ben leans over and reaches out, fingers skimming up your thigh until goosebumps leave a light trail where they’ve touched. 

“Call it a work in progress,” he replies, gaze remaining where he touches as they climb higher up your leg. 

[softie-rain]

The Sleeper In The Valley

pairing: Sejanus Plinth/Coriolanus Snow

prompt day 1: Literature

note: guys!! First day of Snowjanus week :D This one is inspired by my favourite poem ever, I studied it last year of high school and has been stuck in my head ever since. I loved writing it sm. Also first time trying to be aesthetic?? The post felt empty ): Btw I keep overthinking if today's the first day but hey if it's not enjoy my fic anyway.

Coriolanus and Sejanus lay down together, hand in hand, leaning against a tree, the nature surrounds them like in a beautiful painting.

Coriolanus recognizes the green grass where, just a few days before, they were laying down together - in a similar position to the one they’re in now - laughing about how Smiley had made a fool out of himself at the Hob with some girl from District 12. They laughed, and laughed, and Coriolanus was sure he’d never heard a more beautiful sound than the one coming out of Sejanus’ lips every time he made a bad joke.

Coriolanus remembers leaning in and kissing him, or maybe Sejanus leaned in first? Either way they found themselves entangled in each other’s arms, never wanting to let the other one go. And they smiled because there, in the misery of District 12, they had no one to divide them.

Coriolanus turns his head slightly and observes Sejanus’ eyes, closed, in a deep and peaceful sleep, as the sun softly caresses his features. His blue eyes move to his lover’s shaved head and he knows that, if they were still there, his curls would be shining under the sunlight. And if he opened them, his eyes would look like the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted. 

Coriolanus slowly moves to close Sejanus’ parted lips. He didn’t drool, ever. He didn’t snort at night, either, maybe that’s what made him such a good partner. Coriolanus laughs at the thought and he wishes he could wake Sejanus up, so they’d laugh at the joke together.

Coriolanus notices his forehead is sweaty, and so is Sejanus’. He wants to reach out to clean him with his sleeve but decides against it, it’s probably useless anyway.

Coriolanus goes back to focusing on the valley, and a smile automatically forms on his lips, a wave of new (old) memories washing over him once more. Him and Sejanus found that spot in the forest by accident, during one of their rare breaks from their peacekeepers duties. They’d come back to that magic place near the river everytime Commander Hoff would give them a free day, or even just a free afternoon. They’d run together hand in hand, towards the river, throwing themselves in the cold water. Splashing and kissing each other like two fools teenagers in love, hiding away from their parents’ disappointment. But wasn’t that what they truly were?

Coriolanus’ eyes fall on Sejanus’ figure again, and this time he reaches out to him, gently caressing his cheeks. How funny, his forehead so sweaty yet he feels so cold. He wishes he could warm him up somehow, maybe by rubbing his cheeks in his hands, or kissing him so hard he won’t be able to do anything but blush as he kisses back, as he did all those times when Coriolanus would kiss him by the river. But he notices Sejanus wears a smile on his face, a small one, one you don’t notice unless you pay attention. But Coriolanus knows Sejanus better than anyone else, and sees it.

Sejanus once told him that, while he loved their secret place, the strong smell of the flowers - which Coriolanus couldn’t name even if he tried - bothered him, making him sneeze at all times. Allergies, maybe. But that didn’t stop them from keeping on coming back there, anytime they could.

Sejanus often felt sick, Coriolanus noticed, and not only physically. When his body was in perfect shape then it was his mind that slipped away, in dark places, from which he escaped only by talking to Coriolanus. And Coriolanus would let him, always, whenever he needed. But he didn’t speak to him all the time, and that had him worrying. Did Sejanus feel this way more often than he’d tell? 

Sejanus loved sleeping under the sun, he said it made him feel safe, warm. Coriolanus hopes the sun brightening his face never goes away. It’s why Coriolanus brought him here, after the so-called ceremony, he knows this is where Sejanus would have wanted to sleep. Their secret shared spot he loved so much. 

Coriolanus knows that Sejanus was calm now, hand on his chest, now that the flower’s smell couldn’t make him sick anymore. Nothing could, not even the bruises around his neck that were starting to turn a dark shade of purple.

Sejanus was a sick child. And Coriolanus couldn’t help but see it that way when he pressed record. Coriolanus was happy, because he was sure that was going to cure his sick child.

“I’m sorry.” Coriolanus says, kissing Sejanus’ cold, dead, lips.

here's the poem, if you're interested <3

It’s a green hollow where a river sings/Madly catching white tatters in the grass./Where the sun on the proud mountain rings:/It’s a little valley, foaming like light in a glass.

A conscript, open-mouthed, his bare head/And bare neck bathed in the cool blue cress,/Sleeps: stretched out, under the sky, on grass,/Pale where the light rains down on his green bed.

Feet in the yellow flags, he sleeps. Smiling/As a sick child might smile, he’s dozing./Nature, rock him warmly: he is cold.

The scents no longer make his nostrils twitch:/He sleeps in the sunlight, one hand on his chest,/Tranquil. In his right side, there are two red holes.

[pitterpatterpot]

"My new aesthetic is the Bane deciding Aedion needs to rest, and so they just toss him from person to person till he takes the hint and goes to get some sleep." Can you plz write this!!! I would love it and it sounds sooo funny!

I’m FINALLY catching up on asks.

Are some of them over two years old? Yes. Don’t judge me.

~~~

Gavriel has many habits. He’s a man of routine - wake up, eat, train, work, and so on. Of course, those routines have been up in the air as of late with all the changes that have happened. Nowadays it’s more so wake up, deal with some shenanigans, eat, force the others to eat, join Aedion on a morning run, more shenanigans, and so on.

Falling back into a military routine while visiting the Bane is easier. The fact they’re helping clean up a recent avalanche isn’t all that good, and he’s freezing his fingers off while his son only needs to wear a light jacket, but he enjoys the familiarity of it all. There’s a purpose to every day. They shovel the snow, clear debris, and work on relocating the small amount of people who have damaged homes.

What he can’t work out amongst all the mess is where in Mala’s name his son is.

“Erickson!” Gavriel pushes through the snow towards the lieutenant, a large man wielding a shovel. “I heard Aedion was with you!”

He had hoped he’d be able to spend time with his son on this trip, the two of them busier than usual with Terrasen opening up new trade routes through Lysandra’s uncle and his merchant company. Instead, he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of his son. Granted, he’s enjoyed hearing stories from the members of the Bane - many of the inner circle knowing Aedion for years - but he’d enjoying seeing his son once this week.

“Gavriel!” Erickson grins, rakish and delighted as he props his tool against his shoulder, turning away from a pile of wreckage. “How are you? Keeping warm with those spare coats?”

Yes, Gavriel had to borrow an extra coat. He wasn’t raised in a cold climate like his son and most of the Bane members.

“Trying to keep the chill away,” Gavriel chuckles. “Have you seen Aedion?”

“Ah, he was with Lorrison, then he was passed onto me, but I just sent him to Smithy so he’s getting closer to his tent,” Erickson chuckles, scratching his beard. “How’s hoping we can shove him in there, eh?”

Hesitating, Gavriel raises a brow. “I… may be a little lost.”

“Oh!” Erickson snorts. “Guess no one filled you in. The general tends to,wear himself out, and when he does we just send him from person to person to tire him out while leading him back to his tent. Lorrison asked him for help setting up barricades, I had him shoveling snow, and I’m pretty sure Smithy asked him for help moving supplies. He should be dead on his feet soon enough, then Kyllian’ll shove him in the tent and stand guard.”

“That’s-“ Gavriel tries to scramble the words together. “You’ve done this before?”

“Ah, we help our own here,” Erickson smiles. “He does the same for us. It use to be easier though, back when he was with Kyllian. The two would just drag each other to bed-“

“Right, thank you,” Gavriel clears his throat. “I’ll-“

“Say, is Lysandra coming? She’s got a tight rein on him-“

“Thank you, Erickson!” Gavriel calls over his shoulder, heading towards the tents.

“Aye! He’ll probably listen if you tuck him in-“

Ignoring the laugh, Gavriel picks up the pace, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself as the sun sets and takes its warmth with it. The mountains are glorious, full of beauty and a wild, untamed spirit. As well as deadly creatures, frostbite, and a wind that’s like a knife through the chest.

(He may only volunteer for spring trips in the future.)

Aedion’s tent is easy to find - the Bane members had put Gavriel’s right next to it before whisking him away to tell stories. Their enthusiasm to have Gavriel in the camp is touching and funny every time.

As he reaches the tent, Kyllian exits, stopping once he sees Gavriel.

“Thank fuck,” Kyllian groans, tilting his head back. “Please go in there and make sure he stays down. He hasn’t slept in three days.”

“That’s why I haven’t seen him in the morning,” Gavriel sighs and rubs his eyes. “Thank you, Kyllian.”

“Good luck,” Kyllian pats him on the shoulder and trudges off, muttering about ‘stubborn bastards’ under his breath.

Walking into the tent, Gavriel snorts at the sight of his son buried under a pile of furs. A blue eye peeks out at him, irritation emerging in the form of a huff and shuffle.

“Are you aware your army has a method for getting you to sleep?”

Grumbling, Aedion buries his head in the furs. “Did you find that out while searching for another coat?”

They’re close enough now that Gavriel feels no fear in snatching a blanket from his son, laughing at the outraged cry that follows.

[radiokathryn-if]

hi! ROs as the weather aesthetically? I can't help but think of jose as a warm sunny day with cloudless skies <3

I'm gonna make this super simple and let you com up with reasons why for yourselves!

Nate──the aftermath of a hurricane, the spotty rain and heavy winds that aren't strong enough anymore but still a constant reminder of their damaging wrath.

Eva──the warmth of the autumn sun peaking through clouded skies, a light that seems to shine only on you even though you're walking through a crowd.

Mica──the weather that keeps you on your toes, it was raining not even five minutes ago but now you think you'll overheat if you don't get out of your overcoat, but as soon as you do the wind picks up to caress your bare skin, goosebumps rising, before leaving again as to not keep you shivering.

Detective Han──the dead calm under the moon, there's a chill in the air that keeps you from relaxing but the freshness of the night keeps your mind clear.

José──the bright and warm sun that comes immediately after heavy rain, the skies lighting up in a kaleidoscope of colour and the rare sight of a double rainbow.

Ji Han──the first snow in winter, delicate and awe-inspiring, but comes with a message of harsher weather to come, an omen disguised under perfect beauty.

Fauve──the direct sun on a hot summers day, its warmth comforting yet it threatens to burn you if you stare for too long.

Jackson──the beginning of a hail storm, angry and unrelenting, yet it's not cold enough yet and the hail doesn't stick around, feeding the grass like an apology.

???──the spring breeze that picks up petals and helps them to dance, either in the sky or skirting along the ground depending on the strength of its lungs.