#A. B. Frost

[weirdlookindog]

À Beckett - The Ghost of Greystone Grange, London: Bradbury, Agnew, 1878. Illustrated by A. B. Frost.

British Library

[fallauween]

FROST, A. B. Scribner's Magazine, Oct. 1903. by Halloween HJB

[enchantedbook]

Illustration from Lewis Carroll's 'Phantasmagoria' by Arthur B. Frost, 1884

[mimisempai]

I had to do my own version 😌

[catos-wound]

hmm.

[chichikoi]

hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

[ninsletamain]

Happy B-day to one of the sweetest people I know @quarantineddreamer! Much love from myself and @frostbitepandaaaaa!

We hope you enjoy your gift! A certain someone told me you’d like an X-Files AU. (:

“I think you’d have better luck interviewing the victim, Andor.”

Cassian turns around, undeniably relieved to see his partner, Special Agent Jyn Erso, perched on the bottom stair of the half-rotted stoop. She blinks up at him from under the brim of her almost comically large umbrella. Her eyes are knowing, her expression as lucid as ever. She had, no doubt, witnessed the entire debacle between him and the local law enforcement on her short trip from the car to the sway-backed and moss-fringed front porch of their newest crime scene investigation.

“Ah, that’s not my job, Erso, that’s all you,” Cassian tosses back archly. Jyn rolls her eyes and he comes to join her on the bottom stair. He assumes that she does not wish to venture inside the rotted, sodden prairie Colonial until absolutely necessary (and perhaps is wanting to dodge the ire of the local sheriff that Cassian had just pissed off in almost record time).

“Lay it on me, Andor. What is it this time?” Jyn asks, trying to sound bored but he knows better. His partner likes to evoke the straight-laced, no-nonsense career woman but Agent Jyn Erso is also the most accomplished forensic pathologist and scalpel wielder in the FBI… perhaps in the whole damn country. And one doesn’t reach such lofty acclaim by being squeamish. She had also quietly denied several career opportunities over the years that could be considered, well, more sane, in favor of chasing lights in the sky and slicing and dicing in backwater morgue bays.

Had stuck with him. But he tries not to think about that part.

He ducks under the umbrella and they venture out in the weedy front yard in tandem. Jyn makes no effort to accommodate his seven inch height advantage and Cassian does not expect her too. The rain is a dismal, steady drizzle and much of his back is damp within a few steps.

“The victim— 34, male— looks to have been frightened to death,” he announces as if commenting on the shitty weather.

“Cassian,” she groans, stopping to look at him like he had just expressed his desire to join the circus. He knows that tone well. It’s also never a good sign whenever she uses his first name. “Frightened to death?”

He nods, trying, and apparently failing, to keep the amusement off his face because Jyn’s eyes close and she sighs mightily as they continue on their way. “You ever heard of the Boogey Man, Erso?”

“There’s no such thing—“

“Look, I’ll leave it to you, Dr. Erso. Once you get the autopsy done and dusted then you can call me crazy.”

They reach the car and Jyn pulls the door handle on the passenger side. She drove here, but she is not fond of driving— especially when there is a perfectly good man to do it for her— and Cassian is always happy to oblige her in her few glints of prissiness.

She closes the umbrella, shakes out the rain and swings her sensible kitten heels into the car. “Cassian, I’ll save us both some time.” She leans precariously close to him, elbow on the center console of their little rented Cabriolet. He freezes in the midst of fastening his seatbelt (after having to push the seat back what felt like a good four feet). Her hair is damp and a bit wild despite the shelter of the umbrella (her hair always gets frizzy in the humidity— he thinks it’s unbearably cute) and he can smell her perfume. His heart stops in his chest.

“You’re crazy,” she pronounces sagely and falls back into her seat.

He puffs out a laugh, shakes his head, and fires up the car.

[gasstationclown]

whaaattttt loa posting for the first time in like... months? hi!!

misc ouaw sketches (ft metal singer gricko?? or something??)

ORPHEUS i havent finished prime yet but after months and months orpheus lives in my head growing like a mold. my personal design for him

and finally, i got tired of not being able to draw frost... so i practiced drawing actual tigers. ft my bad attempts before deciding it was good enough (im getting there)

[sboochi]

(In which the kids get picked without gender distinction)

What if we were hunger games tributes and pretended we're falling in love but you actually have always had a crush on me and oops now I'm actually falling for you ahah

[ouaw-facts-i-just-made-up]

The Krew works out together, usually honing a particular skill that they wish to work on (agility, weight lifting, defensive maneuvers, etc). Gideon is always extremely excited about it, and as the only one who's actually into fitness, he likes to hype up everyone especially when they beat their PB.

He'd never admit it but seeing Gideon happy is the reason Kremy actually gives a shit rather than phoning it in. The rest, while it's a bit of a struggle, do enjoy having a skill to get them out of a bind.

Hootsie gets put in a little coach outfit too, she's not helping really but isn't she cute???

[allelitewrestlings]

"Timeless" Toni Storm vs Lady Frost AEW Collision • June 8, 2024

[thatsnotbuddies]

xx

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Mondo Bizarro (1966)

[crystalskyz]

cosplay wip!!!

ITS THE SILLY!!!

[whistle-whisper]

[weirdlookindog]

"In caverns by the water-side"

Arthur B. Frost - The Trystyng.

Illustration from Lewis Carroll's 'Rhyme? and Reason?', 1884.

source