#🍂October Memories

[arminsumi]

October Memories

Drabble / E. Jaeger

In rushed October; you were introduced to Eren's friend group, and memories were made between the two of you. By the end of the month, he got a big crush on you. So, he confesses to you by the lighthouse.

Cws; a smidge of angst (?), fluff, Eren looked at ur boobs this one time

Notes on Y/n; fem!bodied + fem!pronouns

Notes on this au; modern! + college! au

In October, you were introduced to Eren's friend group. As the month progressed, so did Eren's crush on you. All the October memories that he made with you only strengthened his feelings.

Memories of drinking bitter coffees in the kitchenette every morning, while complaining about his feelings for you to his mother.

Memories of you tugging on one of his favorite fuzzy sweaters after being caught in the rain, his eyes stealing a naughty glance at your chest.

Memories of laid-back parties in Jean's apartment that ended with you and Eren tumbling drunkenly down the street with a song howling out your lungs.

Memories of strumming an acoustic version of your favorite song on his cheap guitar while you sat next to him on his bed.

All these memories, they influenced him to confess to you by the lighthouse at the end of the month.

He fumbled with the hem of his sweater, the one you said was your favorite. His eyes wandered the environment looking for the right words.

But those right words never came.

The lighthouse stood tall nearby. He scratched the back of his neck, then ruffled his hair. The sea glistened under the golden hour's light.

"Maybe it is the apocalypse." Eren quietly joked.

"Huh?" You looked over at him.

He turned to look at you with a soft, shy expression. It could have just been the lighting, but he seemed to be blushing.

His eyes were stunningly vibrant.

"I love you." He admitted straight-forwardly, "I joke a lot to Armin, you know, that I'd only admit this if it was the apocalypse..."

His declaration of feelings sent a surge of confusion and delight across your mind. You had no idea how to respond, but you knew you had to say something or Eren would interpret your silence as rejection.

"I feel the same..." You spoke in a small voice, "I mean, this month, because of you, has been the best month in all my life, if I'm being honest."

[simp4konig]

Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Steve Harrington x reader

Lil hint of Eddie Munson x Reader.

I wrote this while listening to All Too Well 🍂🍁❤️ I'll be honest I had a second part roughly outlined before I even wrote this so this is a prequel fic.

FWB, heartbreak, angst. Unrequited love.

My requests are open for Steve and Eddie 💌✨

❤️

The first time you realised you were falling in love with Steve Harrington was a quiet night in early September, tucked up in his bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you and your fingers absentmindedly stroking his chest.

For three two months you and Steve had this thing...was it a relationship? You never discussed it but since the fourth of July and the horrors of the upside-down bleeding into Hawkins again, the two of you needed comfort.

Almost every night for the last two months you had spent with Steve, lost in a haze of sex and the feeling that maybe something might be able to grow from this.

Maybe Steve was falling for you like you were for him? The secret hope burrowed deep inside of you and as the month passed you were sure that you were right.

"You're tense honey, is Munson still bothering you?" Steve asks you as he runs his hand up and down your arm. Fuck, you weren't even thinking about Eddie, even if the guy had been the bane of your existence since school started.

It was like the two of you were like magnets, drawn to each other and to argue and annoy the hell out of one another.

"Mmm, he's a pain in the ass. I don't know why he likes to bother me so much" Steve looks like he's going to say something but abruptly shuts up.

Whatever it is it can wait til morning and you'd rather not talk any more about Eddie Munson, even if he did have annoyingly cute eyes.

❤️

Jason was hosting a party tonight and though it was early October everyone was in the Halloween spirit. It was bitterly cold outside and you kind of wish you were tucked up in bed with a spooky movie or book but you were hoping you would see Steve here.

Maybe you should have brought a jacket though. It was an impromptu decision as Robin had invited you and you were eager to see her and Steve.

If he was even here. Robin says he is but it's like he's disappeared. You find him when you're going to get a drink, he's tucked up in the corner with Nancy Wheeler and it makes your stomach sink, heart thumping so loudly that you're surprised everyone can't hear it.

Hesitantly you move closer without them noticing. Then you hear Steve's next words and it breaks your heart in two.

"It's you, it's always been you, Nance"

Suddenly the room feels like it's spinning and you feel nauseated. You have to get away from the two of them, you have to get those words out of your head.

Biting back tears you find Robin again and listen to her chat excitedly about Vickie, she had confessed she was gay a little while back and you were always eager to hear about her crushes. It was so obvious that Vickie liked Robin back.

Eventually, Steve appears but you don't want to be near him, make up some excuse and stumble outside and far away from him.

It's there on the porch that you let the tears fall, the wind is bitingly cold and you rub your arms to warm yourself up. Though it's hard to feel anything with this excruciating ache in your chest. God, you were such an idiot.

At some point once you're all cried out Robin finds you, she's with someone but you're too lost in thought to hear who it is.

"She's freezing, give her this. Get it back to me whenever kay?" Then there is a plaid shirt wrapped around you by Robin. It smells woodsy, with a little bit of smoke and cologne.

As you peer up the owner of the shirt is walking away but you can spot that hair and those Reebok's from anywhere.

It's Eddie's shirt.

...

Later that night you're in bed and still wrapped in Eddie's plaid shirt. Memories of you and Steve fill your mind and you close your eyes trying to block out the pain. You were so foolish to think that he was falling for you too.

❤️

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest.

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well.

Lyrics from All Too Well -Taylor Swift

[pedrito-friskito]

what once was mine - frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finds his way back into your life, and asks you to teach him a thing or two.

warnings: a bit of angst, some fluff, frank being cute, unprotected p-in-v (not completely explicit but it’s there)

a/n: in a shocking twist - ANOTHER ONE of these that didn’t go how I planned originally but I love where we ended up!! enjoy lovelies 🧡

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

You’ve been trying your hardest to forget him.

It’s no easy feat; Franke Castle is not a man you can simply wipe from your mind, push from your memories. He’s permanent in a way that no other man has been for you before. It’s not just the strength of his body, it’s the strength of his personality, his drive, his wit. He rumbled his way into your life without warning, and disappeared in the same fashion, leaving you gasping for air, the rug yanked from beneath your feet. You’d worried from the start that it would end up that way, that you’d get comfortable, let yourself get happy again, and then he’d be gone.

And you were right.

Doesn’t make it any easier to forget him.

It was a few weeks before you’d removed any trace of him from your apartment, boxing up the minimal clothing he’d left in your bottom drawer, tossing out his toothbrush, shoving the worn copy of Slaughterhouse Five he’d been reading into the same box, the entire thing pushed to the top shelf of your closet, as far out of reach as you could muster. Out of sight, out of mind.

There were no photos to throw away, except for the few candids saved on your phone. You’d steeled yourself for the deleting, armed with a glass of wine and a slew of tissues. The glass was empty before you even found the courage to open the app, the tissues soaked and wadded in your lap by the end of it.

You hadn’t hit delete even once, just staring at his face on your tiny screen. The day at the pier, dinner at that fancy restaurant uptown, him driving your car with your linked hands lifted to his mouth for a kiss. You swiped through them all, each snapshot hitting harder than the last. You even fell asleep like that, curled up on your couch, phone clutched in your grasp, tears on your face.

If you knew why, things would be easier. If you knew what had driven him from you, be it you or something bigger than you, something you knew lurked in his shadow, something he hadn’t been able to shake, then maybe it would be easier. Maybe then you’d have some kind of closure. But the not knowing, that’s what hurt the most.

Six months, and you’re still trying to forget him. It’s easier than it was, and there are less nights that find you staring at the bottom of a bottle, wine-stained lips and tears on your cheeks, but he still lurks in your memory like a ghost. You’ve taken to combing the newspapers, desperate for a hint, for a notion that he’s still alive, that he’s okay. But…nothing.

You’re not expecting the evidence you get instead.

Late October, and the world outside your apartment is an autumn wonderland, picturesque beyond belief. Changing colours and piles of crunchy leaves on the sidewalks, long rainy days and dropping temperatures that have you curled up under a blanket most nights. That’s where you are right now, propped on the couch, half asleep with your head balanced in your head, when there’s a knock at the door.

Confusion furrows your brow as you peel the blanket back, sliding your feet into your slippers as the knock sounds again. “I’m coming!” you call, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, cursing quietly when you remember the makeup that’s now smudged on your finger. You wipe it haphazardly on your leggings as you reach the door.

Frank Castle stands on the other side. Alive, just as stupidly handsome as your memory serves, purple bruise on his cheek and his knuckles the same. He’s clutching a bouquet of white daisies, and his jaw ticks as he lays eyes on you.

“Hi.”

“Frank,” you start, white-knuckling the edge of your door. “What are you…?”

“I know that you probably don’t wanna see me,” he says, looking down at his boots, lips quirking. “Hell, I’m sure I’m the last person you wanna see and I wouldn’t blame you for kicking my ass to the curb right now, but I just…” He holds the daisies towards you and you reach out a tentative hand, trying not to let your hand brush his as you take them. “I had to see you, baby. I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

Against your better judgement, you let him in.

The night is spent on your couch, the pair of you talking well into the early morning. He explains himself, why he had to go, why he disappeared so abruptly. Some details he tells you he can’t disclose, and you find yourself okay with that. Wine glasses are filled and emptied, and you find yourself inching closer to him with every sip. He talks with his hands more and more, and you reach for his wrist after awhile, threading your fingers through his, keeping his hand in your lap while he continues his stories.

The clock reads nearly four in the morning once everything that needs to be said has been. The daisies are in a vase on your coffee table, and Frank stares up at you with big puppy dog eyes as you get to your feet, pulling on his hand, and pull him along behind you towards your bedroom.

You pause outside the door, putting a soft hand on his chest, biting your lip when his muscle jumps beneath your palm. “You only get one second chance, Castle,” you say quietly, eyes glued to your hand for a long moment before they flick up to his. “Only one.”

He nods.

+

Come morning, he’s still there. 

That large body curled around yours, chest pressed to your back, face buried against the base of your neck. He holds you impossibly close, murmurs sweet nothings as he kisses you awake, promises to never leave you again. You want to believe him, want to let yourself give in completely to his warmth and familiarity. But something still lingers in the back of your mind, that fear that he’ll disappear on you again, leaving you aching like he had.

It feels different, as time goes on. He’s different. More attentive, more protective, more affectionate. You meant what you said about one second chance, and it seems like he knows too. Things between you are close to what was there before he left, but there’s just something different. 

He’s never been one to talk about his past, and you’ve never been one to pry. You’d read the newspapers, heard the stories, and he gave you enough detail that you could see between truth and fiction, but there was a line in the sand.

Now, it’s like that line doesn’t exist. He’s still careful with his words, telling you firmly that there are some things you are better off not knowing, and you leave it at that. You don’t ask questions; you let him come to you. You take the stories as he offers them, listening to every word and only speaking when you want clarification. He gives you answers willingly, sometimes dropping his gaze as he recounts, but then his eyes find yours again and you’re almost taken aback by the love in them.

The one thing he won’t talk about: his family. And you don’t pry. But the curiosity about the rest of it gets the better of you.

“You never wanted to tell me any of this before,” you say after he’s done talking one night. His brow furrows at the comment, and you continue. “Before you left, you kept me at arm’s length, I guess. I’m just…what changed?”

He leans forward, elbows planted on his knees, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Everything that happened, it’s a part of me,” he answers, his voice low, “and I used to think that if I told you what I’d been through, that it would scare you off. But now, I…” He steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “I’ve lost too much, baby, and losing you too, I can’t…” He shakes his head. “I won’t.”

You pull him into your chest, curling your arms around his broad body, kissing the crown of his head. “You won’t.”

+

The holiday season sneaks up on you. It’s like you blink and it’s nearly the end of November. Frank is a near-permanent fixture in your apartment once more, though he’s got his own place a few blocks over — moving in together is not a line you’re willing to cross just yet, and he’s understanding. Your family is a write-off for a thanksgiving dinner, most of them vacationing somewhere much warmer than rainy New York, and you opt for a quiet get-together with a few friends, Frank included, and you’re surprised at his request when you tell him the date:

“Would you teach me to cook?”

You balk at the question, lips pulling in a happy little smirk, brow slightly furrowed. “To cook?”

“Yeah,” he blushes, leaning on the kitchen counter. “You don’t have to, I just thought…” He trails off, tapping his fingers on the countertop, cheeks flushing an even brighter red as he stares down at his hands. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not,” you say, rounding the corner, coming to stand in front of him. You pull at one of his hands, threading your knuckles against his, your free hand lifting to cup his cheek, thumb swiping beneath his eye. “Of course, I will. You can help me with thanksgiving dinner.”

“Really?”

You lean up on your toes and kiss his mouth softly. “Really.”

It starts with a trip to the grocery store.

Frank follows you dutifully around the store, pushing the cart as you make your way down the aisles. He slides his arm around your waist when you get close, hooks his hand in your back pocket when you stray too far. It’s domestic and it’s comfortable and it makes your chest ache in the best kind of way.

He waves you off when you try to carry some of the bags upstairs, grabbing them all in one meaty grip, his other hand free to hold yours as you get back up to your apartment. You put things away, leave out the ones you’ll need for the dinner on the counter. Frank watches for a while, hanging in the doorway, before you start giving him directions, veggies to clean and chop, reheating the oven, grabbing mixing bowls.

Before long, the kitchen is buzzing with activity, pots on the stove and trays in the oven. Biscuits and mashed potatoes, three different vegetables and a turkey that Frank claims is the biggest bird he’s ever seen. You make a good team, and Frank is unsurprisingly good with his hands, staying close to your side as you move through the kitchen, taking your instruction, asking questions in that low voice of his.

“Everyone’s excited to meet you,” you tell him, the pair of you stood at the counter, Frank stirring the gravy on the stove while you put the biscuits in a bowl. 

“I gotta admit, baby,” he says, staring down into the pot. “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” you repeat, nudging his hip with yours. “The big badass Frank Castle is nervous?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s my first holiday in a while, all right? And I want your friends to like me.”

“They’ll love you,” you reassure him, turning to kiss the top of his shoulder. You pause, a question bubbling in your mind, but you’re hesitant, not sure if it’s crossing the unseen line that’s always existed, that he’s still kept intact even now, with the way he’s been more open. “When was the last holiday?”

His throat bobs, and you’re instantly worried, opening your mouth to retract the question, but he speaks before you can. “It was thanksgiving, actually. Before Maria, before everything…” He pauses, one fist pressed into the countertop. You reach out quickly, covering his hand with your own. “She did all the cooking, you know? I wasn’t…I was home, but I wasn’t there, not really. She did everything, and I just sat in the background, drank my beer and watched the game. I…” He clears his throat.

“Frank, you don’t—”

“I regret it,” he says, turning his head towards you but his eyes not touching your face. “I regret not being a bigger part of my family, of being gone so often, of not spending time with them when they were still…” He trails off again, setting the spoon down on the counter before fully turning to you. “I don’t want us to be like that, baby. I wanna be here, with you, all the time. For all of it. Everything. What you said about second chances, you’re right. I only get one, and I have to do it right.”

There are tears in your eyes at the thickness to his voice, the way it wavers slightly. His breath hitches, chest heaving as you slip your arms around his waist, pulling him close. You don’t say a word, just press your body against his, your heart to his, your breaths syncing with his. It’s a beat before his arms wrap around your shoulders, his nose tucked against your neck, one hand curling against the back of your head, strands of hair around his knuckles. 

He holds you for a few minutes before he’s cursing under his breath as something bubbles over on the stove, the two of you flinching apart and returning to your cooking. Once everything has settled again, he leans over to you, a lingering kiss pressed to you lips.

“I love you, baby.”

You grin, kissing him once more. “Love you, too.”

+

Dinner is a hit, and Frank even more so. Your friends are instantly enamoured, peppering him with questions all night. He answers them easily, the story you know as his cover rolling easily off his wine-tainted tongue. You fall into step with him easily, the truth sitting at the back of your head, but it’s all right, it can stay there. You know the truth, his truth, and that’s enough.

The night is perfect, the food delicious and the comforting feeling of his arm resting along the back of your chair making everything that much warmer, that much more perfect. He reaches over at one point, fingers dragging along your jaw to turn your head towards him, and when he leans over to give you a soft kiss, it’s met with a chorus of awhs from your friends.

Later, after the leftovers have been packed up, the table cleared and the dishes cleaned, Frank slots his fingers through yours and takes you to bed, quickly checking that the door has been locked and all the candles blown out before he does.

He pushes you against the bedroom door first, hands gripping your sides, fingers curling in the fabric of your sweater. His kiss is heavy, his lips tasting of wine and apple pie, his tongue insistent in its sweep across yours, tasting the roof of your mouth, prodding past your teeth. You nip at his bottom lip, earning a deep growl that vibrates from his chest to yours.

Frank finds the hem of your sweater, hands diving beneath it, glancing up your bare skin until he’s cupping your breasts, thumbs swiping across your nipples. It makes the air feel hotter, your body reacting to his the same way it always had, but this time feels different. More intense.

It’s not sex, you realize. It’s not fucking.

It’s making love.

He goes slow. He strips you down like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare before him. He worships your body like never before, mouth seeking out every inch of heated skin, leaving a trail of kisses and nips and laves of his tongue as he goes. 

You lay back on the bed and take him with you, hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You can’t hold back your gasp when he sinks into you, pleasure replacing the very blood in your veins as he starts to move, hips rocking into yours, one hand buried in your hair, mouth by your ear, whispering sweet nothings that have you keening, stars shooting across your vision.

You return his words with your own, murmuring to him after your own pleasure crests, wanting to feel him, see him, taste him as he comes undone. You pull his face to yours, eyes locking as his mouth drops open, pupils blown wide as his hips stutter, muscles tensing above you.

The night bleeds into a blur. You lose track of time, lose count of the orgasms and the endless touching, the never-ending kisses and the drawn-out noises. It’s bliss, it’s magic, it’s perfect.

It’s love.

—————

if you’d like to join my taglist, the form is here. ✨

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[nadyastudiesonpage394]

A little memory of golden october. 🍂🍁I may or may not have procrastinated posting all my autumn pictures because I was (am) stressed and overwhelmed with studying and being miserable at it

[wanderfulescapes]

Traveling in festival seasons (Fall edition) 🍁🍂

Dia de Los Muertos

Every autumn, Mexico erupts with joyful celebrations to honor lost loved ones during the time-honored holiday of Día de los Muertos. Far from somber, the festivities invite the deceased to return through vibrant rituals passed down through generations. You'll see the streets come alive with parades of skeletons and skulls, elaborate altars overflowing with marigolds and favorite foods of those departed, and families gathering in cemeteries for overnight vigils. The playful costumes and faces painted like sugar skulls celebrate life and death alike. To fully experience the communal rituals, rich memories, and cultural insights that surround Día de los Muertos, you must immerse yourself in the celebrations. As you reflect on mortality and honor those who came before, you just may leave Mexico with a revived passion for squeezing every drop out of life. Let the uplifting festivities of Día de los Muertos sweep you up on a travel adventure like no other this fall.

Before going Mexico for Día de los Muertos you need to understand their culture and traditions and where are they coming from.

Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a multi-day holiday celebrated each year from October 31 to November 2 across Mexico and by people of Mexican heritage worldwide. The holiday originated with the indigenous Aztec and Mesoamerican cultures of Mexico and Central America over 3,000 years ago. When Spanish conquistadors arrived in the region in the 1500s, the rituals of Día de los Muertos merged with the Catholic holidays for All Saints and All Souls Days.

Today, Día de los Muertos is a time for families to honor and celebrate their deceased loved ones. They build elaborate altars called ofrendas overflowing with the favored foods, drinks, photos and possessions of the dead. The holiday is associated with vibrant decorations like marigold flowers and sugar skulls. Families often clean and decorate the graves of lost loved ones, sometimes having overnight candlelight vigils or picnics in the graveyard. Parades and festivals with skeleton costumes, music, dancing and feasts are common public celebrations.

While Día de los Muertos has origins in mourning and remembrance, the mood today is celebratory and festive. The rituals are designed to entice the spirits of deceased family members to return for this special day of reunion. The holiday reminds us to value life and those we love. Día de los Muertos reflects the Mexican view that death is natural - not something to fear, but rather accept as part of life's cycle.

Participating in Dia de los Muertos festival is an incredible opportunity to immerse yourself in Mexican culture and honor the tradition of celebrating life and remembering the departed. Here are some recommendations for what to do during the festival:

Visit Altars: These are set up in homes, cemeteries, or public spaces, overflowing with marigolds, candles, skulls, photos, and the favorite foods and belongings of deceased loved ones. Observing them provides deep insight into the customs. Each altar is unique and offers a glimpse into the lives of those being remembered. Respectfully observe the offerings and take in the stories behind them.

Attend a candlelight vigil - Many families hold all-night vigils in cemeteries, decorating graves with marigolds and keeping candles lit to guide the spirits. Witnessing this intimate tradition is moving- Many families hold all-night vigils in cemeteries, decorating graves with marigolds and keeping candles lit to guide the spirits. Witnessing this intimate tradition is moving

Witness Parades and Processions: Many towns and cities host lively parades filled with vibrant costumes, music, dancing, and people painted as calaveras (skulls). These parades are a joyful way to celebrate the spirits' return.

Enjoy Traditional Foods: Indulge in the delicious traditional foods associated with Dia de los Muertos, such as pan de muerto (sweet bread), chocolate caliente, sugar skulls, tamales, atole (a warm beverage), and more.

Learn about La Catrina: Discover the history and significance of La Catrina, the iconic elegantly dressed skeleton figure.

La Catrina became an iconic Día de los Muertos symbol due to her origins in José Guadalupe Posada's satirical 1910 etching of an elegant female skeleton, poking fun at indigenous Mexicans imitating upper class fashions. Her name blended European and native words, while her outfit blended styles, representing Mexico's mixed origins. Artist Diego Rivera later popularized La Catrina as a national symbol in his murals. Her playful yet philosophical representation of death as a natural part of life, instead of something to fear, resonated deeply. Today La Catrina appears everywhere during Day of the Dead celebrations, from artwork to costumes. She is the quintessential folkloric embodiment of Mexican identity and attitudes towards death.

Engage in Face Painting: If you're comfortable, consider getting your face painted with calavera makeup. It's a fun and artistic way to join in the spirit of the celebration.

Overall, Dia de los Muertos is a celebration of life, memory, and the unity of people across generations. Engaging in the festivities with respect and an open heart can provide you with a transformative and culturally enriching experience.

[littlemxhoney]

Coping mechanisms for the beginning of fall 🍂

🧡 Movement 🧡

Just like Jina’s long walks, movement is such a great way to process feelings or get out of our heads.

While I enjoy walks to soak in rays of sun as the days get shorter, I also love going for a drive and singing along to the radio!

🧡 Rest & Recovery 🧡

Don’t underestimate the impact of the changing seasons on our brains & bodies!

It is natural to need more rest and time recovering from events as we transition into fall. Let yourself set boundaries to protect taking care of your need for rest.

🧡 Plan something to look forward to 🧡

As much as we crave more rest, seeking out connection and making memories can be a great way to feel joy even as winter approaches.

October has so many fun activities, from apple picking or pumpkin carving, to planning a costume for Halloween if you celebrate! When we have something to look forward to, we can get dopamine from the anticipation!

Affirmations inspired by Jina 🍂

🧡 My feelings matter.

🧡 I find healthy ways to process my emotions.

🧡 I am connected to nature.

🧡 I listen to myself and my needs.

🧡 It is okay to need space and time for myself.

🧡 I care for myself.

[notetaeker]

October 18, 2022- Tuesday | Fall Challenges 5/30 + 9/30

Today I only had one class. I finished up my latest crochet and embroidery projects, gifted the scarf I made to my dad, swept and vacuumed my room, wore a brand new set of clothes after showering, caught up on journaling in my planner, and played genshin while listening to lectures. I wish I did more work though 😬 I have a lot to catch up on.

🍂 memory of autumn that puts a smile on your face: the picture above is from a field research day we had in the autumn for my ecology lab class. We were setting up cameras and plastic mice in hopes of getting some pictures of their predators. It was drizzling and there were leaves everywhere and my hands were freezing but I remember having so much fun because it was such a nice little trip to break up the monotony that was the life of a bio student living between lectures, labs and exams. Later we ended up having some footage of cute woodland creatures and birds interacting with our fake mice and being confused 😭🥺 It was one of the joys of my stressful senior year of college and I remember it fondly 💕

[elthonymonth]

🍂👻 ELTHONY MONTH 2023 👻🍂

That's right, official prompts are here!

Let's refresh our memory and establish some things:

What is Elthony Month?

It's an event dedicated to Elthony (Elijah/Anthony). You're provided with a list of prompts for each day of October. You can do any type of content: illustration, fanfiction, moodboard, cosplay, etc. Go wild! 2. Is it necessary to do each prompt? Not at all! Have fun with our prompts and don't overwork yourself. Do what you like and how much you like. 3. So that's why, as the creators of Elthony Month, we PROHIBIT hosting competitions on the base of our event and encouraging completion of each prompt by giving out prizes. The point of our event is to inspire you. The prompts are not your homework. 4. Be sure to include our hashtag #Elthony Month when posting your entries, so the fandom could enjoy your work! This would also help us archive the event in the VK group. 5. Our socials: VK, Telegram Channel This year's Elthony Month was made by: Prompts: Капитан Ли, Cold Rotten Milk, nqwhd, Vikie Owl, Lady Of The Lake (archiveofourown.org/users/Forget_me_does), Кирилл Табов (band.link/y468U).

Illustrations: Вил (t.me/willensen), Айво, k0Libra (twitter.com/k0Libra, k0libra.tumblr.com).

[yllonaaa]

2023 Achievements and Remarkable Memories!

January

- First beach trip with my best friend in Boracay and stayed at Discovery Shores 🤍

- First time in Tagaytay Highlands for business planning!

February

- Simple celebration with fam and relatives on the 65th bday of my dad!

- Went to Baguio twice in the same month! 😂

- Wedding Pamamanhikan to my sister in law

March

- Celebrated my 27th bday in our dream country with my best friend! Japan - Osaka, Tokyo and Kyoto. In love with the cherry blossoms! 🌸 Enjoyyyeeed Harry Potter in USJ so much and was able to discover our fave (so far) ramen place in Osaka.

- Awarded a special award for hitting 2022 target. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to attend since I was in Japan.

- Had our first Karaoke session (me being dept head) with my CBLD fam as my advance bday celeb

April

- Swimming with Magno fam at Acop’s private pool after xxxx years of pandemic

- Celebrated Mama’s (my grandmother) 80th bday!

May

- Threw a bridal and groom’s shower for my Kuya and Sister in law! Magno cousins exclusive hehe

- My Kuya’s Wedding 🤍

June

- Cut my hair super short! For the frist time 😂

- Lost our adopted dog, Ampi 😢

July

- Promoted to Senior Assistant Manager

- First time in Manaoag, Pangasinan and my prayers came true!! 🥹

August

- Had a mini reunion with the Magno clan. Swimming in Antipolo 🤍

- Dad survived first batch of lab tests 🥺

- Lost another dog, Panda ☹️🐕

September

- My younger brother finally graduated in college. 🎓

- Back in Bohol even just for a short staycation. 🤍

- Adopted our newest furbaby, Yuki and survived Dengue for dogs 🥺

- HS best friend Ayeen got engaged 💍

October

- First time in Tacloban, Leyte and Samar!

November

- Reunited with my best friend after 8 months 🥺 last time we went out was during Japan trip

- First autumn 🍂🍁 Went back to Japan for the 2nd time with my best friend again 🥹 cant get enough with the beauty of Japan. Stayed in Mt. Fuji which was one of the best decisions we made! Enjoyed DisneySea.

December

- Went out with my CBLD team in the office. Went swimming for the first time after pandemic, got drunk with them and had various team lunch and dinner

2023 had been so much fun! Made me stronger and made me realize that both people and things are temporary. Cherish the moments and memories while they last. Thank you 2023!

[earth-scented]

🍂 Autumnal Granfathers (Dedy, aka Dziady) – Slavic Week Devoted to Commemorating the Dead 🍂

From October 21 to 28 (this year, 2023) Slavic Pagans celebrate Grandfathers’ Week – time dedicated to commemoration and communication with the dead. The veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, and it is time invite the deceased loved ones over to share a meal with the living. Those are not the days to be in a hurry. The house needs to be cleaned – it is really a shame to invite your ancestors into a mess; the commemorative dinner has to be prepared.

Finally, everything is ready – the house shines, the candles are lit, and commemorative dinner stands on the table. Extra plates and silverware are served. Now the master of the house invites the Grandfathers – deceased ancestors that loved us and wished us well. He calls out their names, remembering their deeds. “Dear Grandfathers, we’re calling for you. Dear Grandfathers, fly to us through.” Hot steam rising from the food tickles the nostrils attracting hungry spirits that miss the scent and taste of food in the Otherworld. Slavs believe that the food for the dead has to be hot, as the spirits ingest the steam instead of actual food. Crepes, cereal, pies – all these foods are enjoyed on the Dumb Supper by both living and dead. Traditionally, this meal is quiet, full of memories of the people that are no longer with us. If this year happened to be successful, Grandfathers deserve to be thanked for it, if not – it is okay to ask for help. Remains of food are left at the table overnight, and in the morning they are used to feed wild animals and birds.

Once the dinner is over, one can peek into the future and communicate with Gods and spirits by means of divination, be it runes, or crystal ball, or pendulum. The answers will be clear and easy to read this week – our own ancestors stand behind our shoulders helping us on our way. Protection spells are also very powerful at this time.

Friday on Grandfathers’ Week (October 28 this year) is called Makosh’s 11th Friday (11th Friday of Makosh). This is one of the chief festivals devoted to this Goddess for the whole year. A candle is lit on the household altar in Her honor and a traditional offering of a skein of natural fiber or a length of thread is left there for Makosh: later on, this offering may be cast into flowing water, left near a well – our ancestors used to throw skeins of fiber into a dry well, a wishing well may work, too, or tied to a healthy spruce tree – spruce and yew are trees associated with the Goddess of Fate. Older women spin a white thread while sitting by the window on this day. This thread calls on the patronship of the Ancestors and may be used in knitting, embroidery, ritual tying of knots, or spindle rituals meant to attract something or call for Ancestors’ help. Since Friday has been traditionally associated with women and the feminine, it makes sense to hold a ritual dinner devoted to all the deceased females in a family (Grandmothers’ Day).

As the week passes, spirits need to be thanked for visiting and released with words: “Dear Grandfathers, you stayed with us all week, enjoyed the food and things to drink. Now it is time for you to fly back”. After this, the candles are blown out, and the realization of magic that had just happened is slowly getting into conscious mind. Like never before, our life path stands clear before us.

Don’t miss this week. Slow down and listen. Turn around to remember and say “Thank you” for your very existence in this world.

Olga Stanton

[natolesims]

sweater, bonfire, & october :)

Hi! Thank you 🧡

sweater— what is your favorite autumn dessert?

Chacualole! It's a forgotten recipe only my great grandma knew how to prepare, so now my grandpa makes it for día de muertos every year since I was little. It's like a sweet stew (?) Of pumpkin, pumpkin seeds, guava, sugar cane, tejocote (mexican hawthorn) and unrefined brown sugar syrup 🤤

bonfire— what is your favorite autumn activity? e.g.) pumpkin carving, festivals, ect.

Setting up the different ofrendas for my family, and going to seasonal festivals and markets in the main city! So many good memories. I also like knitting at this time of the year :D

october— what is your favorite autumn-themed scent, if any? e.g.) marshmallows, pumpkin spice, ect.

Tangerines + marigolds + burning wood 🍂

[dendro80]

Memories from 2018. 🍂🍁🍄A great day in the forest. Found a lot of mushrooms. Longing for a day in the forest. ❤️🍂🍁🍄

October 2018

Avesta, Dalarna, Sweden

[unspoken-blossomed-feelings]

Unspoken Blossomed Feelings

🔒Locked memories

🔓Unlocked memories

🥀Angst ¦ 🌷Fluff ¦ 🍂Hurt-comfort

🔒January

🔓February

Valentine's Day cheesecake

{The brand of cream cheese that's popular among bakers.}

🔒March

🔓April

Crowded places🌷

{Crowded places can be draining. How lucky you are to have your home by your side.}

🔓May

Carrier spaceship backpacks🌷

{Carrier spaceship backpacks & going out for a walk.}

🔒June

🔒July

🔒August

🔒September

🔒October

🔒November

🔒December

unspoken-blossomed-feelings🌱

[peachiyyy]

october faves 🎃🫶🏼..honestly not many things other than movies lol:

-Smile (2022) one of the best horror movies that came out this yr imo i was pleasantly surprised

-Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979)

-Saint Maud (2019)

-Swiss Miss hot chocolate (the rich chocolate version w extra creamy oatmilk lol it makes a difference)

-Sesame flavored icecream

-Rose milk tea

-Speak, Memory by Vladmir Nabokov

-Skims long sleeved vintage scoop neck top

-Yvette top from i am g*a lol

-Those furry slippers from suicoke

-indoor bunny slippers from daiso🐰

-Makeup by Mario’s lipliner in the shade ‘Chris’ paired w the toast of new york lipstick by Revlon

hmm..that’s it:) didnt wanna fill this up w too many movies lol

happy halloween🎃🎃🎃🖤🖤🖤🖤🧛🧛🧛‍♀️🧛‍♀️🕷🕷🕷🍂🍂🍂👻👻👻🎃🎃🎃

[sveniasblog]

Sofia, October 2022

Woke up late on this misty autumn day 🍂.

I had this profound, sweet dream with people from my past. So real, so intriguing. Feeling confused and stirred up after waking up.

Lightening up some smoke medicine (- lavender I am growing by my bedroom window) helps me to honor this dream and my memories as well as to gently let go. 🪶