#Dazzling winter collection

[mango-bango-bby]

Have you watched the Barbie movie

I have watched the Barbie movie!! I personally loved it 💖

[ssahotchnerr]

can i request - aaron and reader are just married and on a case where they are sharing a room? i feel like morgan would have a field day with the teasing!

honeymoon phase

YESSS LOL I ADORE THAT cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, suggestive teasing remarks, brief mentions of sex, playful team banter 🤭

"Alright," Aaron approached, his impending footsteps breaking the soft conversation that had been unfolding amongst the team.

"Due to the winter storm that's rolling in, the hotel's almost at full vacancy. We'll have to double up." He handed Dave, Spencer, JJ a key card, keeping one for himself. "You all can decide who you'll share a room with. Sweetheart, you're with me. Let's meet here in the morning at eight, and head to the precinct together." Aaron finished, opting to grab his bag from your grasp, relieving you the need to hold it.

Everyone nodded in quiet understanding, heads moving in unison as they too collected their things. The discussions resumed - quick laughs, pairing up, the usual.

You yawned as you all trudged towards the elevator, eager for the warmth of bed. Additionally, the warmth of your husband's body beside yours.

However Derek stayed put, in such an obvious, idea-brewing sort of way. The gears in his head were turning; an undeniable, mischievous flicker in his eyes. His gaze followed the two of you, the newly wedded couple as of a month ago.

"Oh no," You mumbled jokingly under your breath, smushing your lower face into Aaron's shoulder.

"Hm?" Aaron hummed gently as his gaze shot down to you in question, his finger stopping short of the up button.

"Now remember you two, this isn't your honeymoon." Derek lectured as his index finger traveled between you and Aaron, doing an awfully bad job at keeping a straight face. "These walls," He moved to the side to tap his knuckle against the surface for dramatic effect, the sound produced sharp and reverberating. "are thin. We don't need y'all keeping us up to all hours. I would prefer to get some sleep tonight."

"You brought your headphones, didn't you?" Emily joined his banter, teasingly shoving her go-bag into his.

"You already know it. Now that these love birds have death till us parted, I'll never leave home without them. Can't be too careful." He tossed you a playful wink, daring you to quip back.

"You're funny." Aaron beat you to it, his eyebrows lifting in an eased, amused manner across his forehead.

Morgan flashed his dazzling smile, in awareness that yes, he was.

"But no." Aaron denied, with a small shake of his head. "Not on cases."

"Liar." Emily concealed in a cough, fist in front of her mouth.

But it was true. Moments of intimacy, out in the field, were few and far between. You were on the job, for one. And adequate rest was needed - for energy, focus, and the ability to stay sharp in high pressure situations. Without it, the smallest of missteps could cost lives.

It was achingly tempting at times; there had been countless times where you just wanted to jump Aaron and make him yours - you were still very much in the honeymoon phase. But you owed it to the victims, their grieving families, and any potential, future victims.

In addition, it only worked better in your shared favor when the time for sex did come. The build-up, the waiting, the restraint too much to bear and everything falling into place with a sense of release. It only added to the satisfaction.

If a case concluded, and the jet was grounded until morning - technically you were off the job. Anything could happen then.

"It's a good thing, for you that is. Wouldn't want to hurt your ego, Morgan." You flashed him a smirk. "With these 'thin walls', you'll be thinking you've been doing something wrong all this time."

Morgan's face instantly turned from amusement to slight dismay, his nose wrinkling up in disbelief. "I don't think so."

"She's right." Aaron confirmed, a knowing glint behind his eyes as he swiftly looked you up and down. A smile grew on your face, some heat rushing through your body. "Bed, sweetheart?"

[torpublishinggroup]

Tor Publishing Group is BACK (again) with a guide of books to gift the people in your life…and yourself!

━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━

Cozy books to curl up with in the winter...

Legends & Lattes / Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne

━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━

Dazzling new worlds to explore...

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djèlí Clark

Blood of the Old Kings by Sung-il Kim; translated by Anton Hur

━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━

High stakes, high thrills...

Extinction by Douglas Preston

The Lies We Conjure by Sarah Henning

Exordia by Seth Dickinson

━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━

Story collections that pack a punch...

Januaries by Olivie Blake

The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker

Not enough books? Don’t worry, we have another GET BOOKT: THE BOOKENING guide to help you out!

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

🛷Download🛷 (Patreon - Free from 21st December 2023)

Sleigh All Day in this collection of winter partywear by @joliebean and Ice-CreamForBreakfast! Whether you're looking to sparkle at the party or want to turn heads as you get from party to party, we've got you with this glittering collection of party dresses, jewellery and outwear. You'll be sure to look hot (and feel hot in a fabulous coat), even when the temperatures plummet.

Get Joliebean's part here!

Item Descriptions:

Zahara Dress - Whether you're channelling the absinthe fairy or simply want to sparkle at the party, this asymmetric kite-hem dress is perfect for you.

Mimi Dress - Turn the shine up to 100 with this fully be-dazzled cowl-neck maxi.

Millicent Suit - Can't decide on a suit, a jumpsuit or a dress? This mid-century classic look is for you.

Midge Dress - A simple, knee-length cross-over dress with bow details, because making a statement doesn't always mean being extra!

Rossellini Dress - Why choose between showing skin and sparkling then you can do both? Comes complete with optional pasties so you can choose how much skin.

Joan Coat - Make a statement like the frostiest woman in showbiz! This fur coat is sure to get you noticed wherever you go!

Talia Earrings - These metal drop earrings can be worn with both modern and classic looks. They come in two sizes depending on how much of a statement you want to make.

Natalya Earrings - Obnoxiously whimsical vintage Christmas bauble earrings because why ever not?

[syboubou]

Winter holidays neon (TSR)

Introducing the Winter Holiday Neons mini-set for The Sims 4, a dazzling collection designed to illuminate your Sims Christmas nights with festive flair. This set includes 14 new items that seamlessly blend into the Sims universe with a Maxis Match aesthetic, ensuring compatibility with your favorite lowpoly creations.

Experience the holiday season like never before with wall lights adorned in vibrant neon colors, each carefully crafted to infuse your Sims' homes with a cool and contemporary design. The glow of these lights casts a warm and festive ambiance, creating the perfect backdrop for holiday gatherings and celebrations.

Download

Available on TSR Part 1 (free) and Part 2 

[cupidseok]

things that evoke memories of riize

💒 — SHOTARO AS

the bittersweet tug of homesickness, the aromatic smell of freshly ground coffee beans that first hits you upon stepping into a cafe, unexpectedly meeting a high school friend you really missed on the streets, the solace found in being able to comfort you, the warmth of sunlight kissing your skin, ties with cute little patterns on them, the click of film cameras while taking photos of you, the lingering feeling after a hug, getting bungeoppang in the winter and chatting with the street vendor while waiting for his order, carrot cakes, a large collection of bucket hats, love countdown by nayeon, wonstein

🩰 — EUNSEOK AS

soft ballad music playing in the background, the gentle warmth of intertwined hands, early morning strolls, the adrenaline rush coursing through you while riding roller coasters, holding hands in haunted houses, long facetime calls spent in silence, brushing his lips over your forehead, trembling lips as he lets himself be vulnerable to you for the first time, exploring a place he has never been before, the feeling that you’re going to know each other for a long time, a handsome stranger you saw on an overseas trip once and never again, watching studio ghibli films together, carbonara pasta, breathe by lauv

💭 — SUNGCHAN AS

texts to check if you’ve eaten, greeting dogs that pass by, wandering aimlessly in an art museum, purposely stepping in a puddle of water just to splash someone, playfully fighting you for the tv remote but letting you win in the end, opening jars for you even though you can do it yourself, letting him play with your hair until it’s all tangled, the chime of school bells signalling the day’s end, taking photos with friends on the last day of school, the soft brush of elbows while writing side by side, keeping your hair tie on his wrist, eating vanilla ice cream on sunny days, 爱你 by kimberley chen

✨ — WONBIN AS

late night walks under the moonlit sky, someone’s hand slipping in yours, dark chocolate, dazzle of fireworks illuminating the night, reflecting on his eyes, learning how to play a new instrument, a faceless photo of you and him on his lockscreen, watching a drama together and rooting for different male leads, putting on a facade of toughness to impress you, gently reassuring him that perfection isn’t always necessary, clothes that fit you just right, love at first sight, matching earrings, only letting you touch his guitar, the reluctance to bite into cute chinese piggy steamed buns, wish you were sober by conan gray

💌 — SEUNGHAN AS

sweet goodnight texts, good luck charms handmade with endearing clumsiness, trying new food, finding something you thought you lost, autum leaves rustling in the wind, holding the door open for you, exchanging affectionate words endlessly, winning a soft toy at an amusement park on the first try, patiently teaching you how to play games, looking through his photoalbum when he misses you, doodling shinchan on the corners of your worksheet, taking a bite of your spicy bibimmyeon, then complaining that it was too spicy for him, die for you by the weeknd, ariana grande

👒 — SOHEE AS

shopping for caps together, a tranquil morning greeted by a gentle breeze, buying a new fuzzy blanket, curtains billowing in the wind, waiting for you to come home to him, the comfort of oversized plain white shirts and grey joggers, playing rock paper scissors to divide household chores, needing to pause and go outside for a breather every time he realises how down bad he is for you, trying to order a kids meal at a restaurant and getting embarrassed after the waiter doesn’t allow it, getting tteokbokki together after school, candy by baekhyun

🎧 — ANTON AS

wired earphones connected to an mp3 player, warm beach towels, trying to make an asmr video, eating cake off the floor so you wouldn’t feel bad for dropping it, constantly sending you tiktoks that remind him of you, water parks on hot summer days, classical music, old books with yellowed pages and worn covers, putting on sheet masks together, reading children’s storybooks for you to help you fall asleep, making eye contact across the room, the moment where you realise that he feels the exact same way that you feel at the same moment, snow on the beach by taylor swift, lana del rey

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 21

Wizards AU / Dead Boy Detectives - Payneland / Mistletoe

“I need your help.”

No other sentence could have forced Edwin to leave his books and cozy tower and go out into the the longest night of the year. For a wizard, the winter solstice was a night of danger, when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. A night when the demons that gave wizards their power sought to escape their spells of binding and exact revenge on their masters. A night best spent indoors, safely within a circle of protection.

But if Charles needed his help, then Edwin would go.

Charles was a witch. His power came from the natural world, manifesting in potions and hexes rather than the symbology and ritual that channeled Edwin’s magic. But Charles would also be at his weakest during the solstice, and if he needed Edwin’s help, then Edwin was powerless to deny him.

So despite his misgivings, he donned a cloak and his thickest boots and went out, into the woods that crowded around the hill that supported his tower. Charles’ cottage wasn’t too far into the woods, at least, and there was a path.

Charles greeted him with an easy smile and arms that opened wide for a friendly hug. (Only friendly, Edwin reminded himself firmly, however much he might wish otherwise. He was grateful that his awkward confession some months gone had not prompted Charles to back away.)

“Thanks for coming, mate,” Charles said, giving Edwin an extra squeeze before letting him go. “I know this is a shit night for you to be out, but this is just so much easier with two people. And if anything happens, I swear I’ll protect you.”

Edwin didn’t want to think too much about Charles leaping between him and danger, eyes flashing and muscles flexing. So he shrugged it off and said, “So what is it that you need?”

Charles grabbed up his bag and led the way out into the forest. “I need mistletoe. Specifically, mistletoe that’s been harvested on the solstice, using a silver sickle.” He rummaged in his bag and held up the wickedly-hooked blade. It shone in the darkness, reflecting the moon’s light into Edwin’s eyes.

Edwin looked away before it could dazzle his sight. “Right. And what will I be doing, then?”

“Keeping a lookout, mostly,” Charles said. “It’s not as dangerous for witches to be out tonight, but it’s not not dangerous, either. Also, the whole operation will go faster if you can maybe gather up the sprigs as I drop them? That way I can just cut a bunch at once, and as soon as I’m done, we’ll be ready to go.” Charles pointed. “The grove is just ahead. I’ve been up there every day since the full moon, blessing the trees.”

When they reached the grove, Charles gave Edwin a bag to collect the sprigs in, and a jar of pale green powder. “If you think something is coming, sprinkle that in a circle around us both. It should hold off most things until I’m able to get back down.” Without waiting for Edwin’s response, he grabbed a low-hanging branch and hoisted himself up into the tree, agile as a chipmunk.

Edwin looked through the trees and shadows and wondered how he would ever be able to spot anything with enough time to use the powder.

The tree stopped rustling, and Edwin felt a gentle crest of magic sifting down through the branches as Charles began the harvest. Edwin tensed, lest the magic draw other things to the grove, but nothing came.

“Look out below,” Charles called, and Edwin barely stepped out of the way before a handful of mistletoe sprigs rained down. He dutifully gathered them up and put them in the bag, though he noted a few had snared on the branches on their way down that he couldn’t reach. He reported it to Charles. “I’ll figure it out when I’m done cutting. Maybe the wind will blow them loose,” Charles replied. “I’m jumping over to the next tree now.”

“Jumping?”

“Relax, mate, the branches are basically touching.” The rustling spiked, and the tree next to Edwin shivered with Charles’ landing.

It went like that, Charles jumping from tree to tree like a monkey and cutting down mistletoe for Edwin to collect in between nervous glances around the forest to make sure they were alone.

Finally, Charles came back down to the ground. To hide his sigh of relief, Edwin turned away, pointing up to the snared sprigs in the branches above. They hung in constellations of pale berries over the whole grove. “What about those?”

Charles took the bag from Edwin and looked in, nodding. “We’ve got plenty for the next year, maybe even two,” he said. He looked up at the sprigs thoughtfully. “Does seem like a waste to leave ‘em unused,” he mused. He slanted a look at Edwin. “Well. You know what else mistletoe is good for?”

Edwin frowned, trying to remember his herb lore, but it had never been his strong suit. “I’m not sure I--”

Charles kissed him.

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

What do ikeprince suitors smell like? Pt.2

Hi my beautiful Belles, it's such an honor to present you with part 2 of "What do ikeprince suitors smell like? I absolutely loved and had so much fun doing the first part. So here is the promised second part, where we will discover the perfumes that the princes from Rhodolite are most likely to wear. This is not entirely accurate - it's only based on their routes information and the vibe each boy gives me.

Jin Grandet

The big bro, seductive womanizer and alcohol lover definitely smells like seduction and playfulness with a mature vibe. I'm sensing some kind of citrusy freshness along with some spices on top of a woody warm bed.

Notes: bergamot, galbanum, tangerine, liqueur, pink pepper, ho leaf, amber, rosewood and oakmoss.

Perfumes he might like:

Sauvage - Dior (Basic, but it still works)

Cuirs - Carner Barcelona

Grand Soir - Maison Francis Kurkdjian (sometimes he takes this one from Nokto's perfume collection).

CH Men Prive - Carolina Herrera - His favourite, probably layered with "Grand Soir" for special occasions.

Stronger With You Intensely - Giorgio Armani

Chevalier Michel

King Highness, my man, your man, nation's man, world's man. It is said in his route that he showers a lot. It is also said by Belle that Chev smells like vetiver and winter. So I'm getting fresh clean boy vibes from our pookie man. He may also be a huge Byredo boy.

Notes: vetiver, green apple, wintergreen, sweet orange, white rose, white lily, jasmine, gardenia, ylang-ylang, sage and soap.

Perfumes he might like:

Sycomore - Chanel

Grey Vetiver - Tom Ford

Philosykos - Diptyque

Aqua Universalis - Maison Francis Kurkdjian - His favourite

Blanche - Byredo - His second favourite

Bal d'Afrique - Byredo

Mister Marvelous - Byredo

Clavis Lelouch

The Hellcat Troublemaker charming gentleman probably smells like sweat, chaos, trouble, chemicals and gunpowder, but let's pretend he doesn't. This mf brings joy and happiness to everyone's lives. He's the life of the party. We've all been charmed by him at any point in the series, don't you dare denying it. Yes, he is traumatized, but so are we. He is dazzling and fresh like a summer breeze, sweet and funny like an ice cream.

Notes: mandarin, lemon, sea salt, jasmine, rose, muguet, heliotrope, musk, vanilla, coconut and aromatic herbs.

Perfumes he might like:

Bleu de Chanel - Chanel (courtesy of Keith)

Aqua Allegoria Bergamote Calabria - Guerlain - His favourite (layered with "Pulp" to add playfulness).

Blu Mediterraneo: Fico di Amalfi - Acqua di Parma

Pulp - Byredo - His other favourite, he loves this one because he stole it from Chevalier's Byredo collection.

Allure Homme Sport - Chanel (this one is the one he uses while pranking people, just because the word "sport" in the perfume's name.)

Leon Dompteur

The gold digger girl dinner love of my life. He is a true gentleman, he treats you right, it's the princess treatment for me girl. He is classy, sweet, thoughtful, a liar friendly, masculine (in the best way possible) and sensitive. Roses seem to bloom whenever he smiles. A provider. Husband material. He gifts you PLUSHIES, how cute is that? Love him.

Notes: lavender, linalool, bergamot, roses, cinnamon, anise, clove, thyme, jasmine and cedarwood.

Perfumes he might like:

Fahrenheit - Dior - His favourite for high events

Y Eau de Parfum - Yves Saint Laurent

Rive Gauche pour Homme - Yves Saint Laurent - His favourite

Black Saffron - Byredo

L'Homme Ideal Sport - Guerlain

Blenheim Bouquet - Penhaligon's

Green Irish Tweed - Creed - His second favourite (layered "Black Saffron").

Yves Kloss

The Barbie Haughty Kitty. He definitely smells like flowers, especially roses, and something really sweet, gourmand with a soft clean base.

Notes: apple, peony, rose, apricot, jasmine, iris, musk, vanilla, praline, sugar, strawberry and peach.

Perfumes he might like:

Peony & Blush Suede - Jo Malone London

White Suede - Tom Ford

Eau Rose - Diptyque

Chanel Chance Eau Tendre

Love in White - Creed

The Favourite - Penhaligon's - His favourite

Bianco Latte - Giardini Di Toscana (layered with "Eau Rose") - His favourite combination (he uses this one to go see you Belle).

Licht Klein

The lone wolf, our cutie pie, Yves's baby. I feel like he smells like fresh rain on top of a sweet and clean base with some spices added.

Notes: orange, wintergreen, rain, mint, green apple, white lily, sweet pea, orchid, vanilla and sandalwood.

Perfumes he might like:

Silver Mountain Water - Creed

Acqua di Giò Profumo - Giorgio Armani

Royal Water - Creed - His favourite

Celeste - Giardini Di Toscana

Millésime Impérial - Creed (Silvio's gift).

Nokto Klein

Our frivolous womanizer, the slay and cunning fox, my baby. Chev's personal clown. He LOVES perfumes - Silvio and he are in some kind of competition about who has more perfumes. He is the layering king, not just because his perfume gets mixed with other girls' scents, but because he knows what he is doing. In literally everyone's routes, it's said that our silly boy who just wants to be loved and understood smells like a red flag "late night trysts", but what exactly that smells like?

Notes: Freesia, white rose, ylang-ylang, orange blossom, cinnamon, musk, sandalwood, heliotrope, queen of the night, vanilla and jasmine.

Perfumes he might like:

L'Homme Ideal - Guerlain

Noir - Tom Ford

Black Orchid - Tom Ford

Do Son - Diptyque

Flowerhead - Byredo

Luna - Penhaligon's

Grand Soir - Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Roses Musk - Montale

Intense Café - Montale

Reflection Man - Amouage (matching with Azel)

Royal Mayfair - Creed

Borabora - Giardini Di Toscana - His favourite

Blu Mare - Giardini Di Toscana (Silvio's gift)

Luke Randolph

Our own big (enormous) Winnie the Pooh. The Honey Lover. The Nap Lover. He is sweet, lovable and caring, the perfect brother you will never have. He will do anything to help you and to make you happy. He doesn't really care that much about his appearance, so the majority of his perfumes are gifted.

Notes: Honey, vanilla, herbs, honeysuckle, violet leaf, white musk and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

Mojave Ghost - Byredo (Clavis's gift, stolen fom Chev's perfume collection)

Oajan - Parfums de Marly (Jin's gift)

Chergui - Serge Lutens (Sariel's gift)

Honey Aoud - Montale - His favourite

And this is the end. Hope you enjoyed this silly little simulation, because I did. I had so much fun, especially with ma' boy Clavis.

This may not be the end of this series, next I'm planning to do the same dynamics (scents and perfumes) with our evil boys from Ikemen Villains. But if you have any suggestions let me know!!!

Kisses my beautiful little bunnies. xoxo.

[thecursedprince]

Monster High Howliday Winter Cleo Doll

Highlights

Ghoulish Greetings! Wrapped up like a mummified present in dazzling fabric, this Winter Edition Cleo De Nile Howliday doll shines brighter than the stars glittering in the sky!

It’s the night of the winter solstice, and Cleo De Nile sparkles with all the scary brightness of the season in her satiny dress and pleated organza overskirt

A gleaming “feather” and bow headdress crowns her sparkling, tinsel-strewn hair. Elegant snake details on her collar and belt complement this statement headpiece!

Her snowflake-dusted shawl glides behind her with gore-geous grace, the fringe swishing above her Anubis heels on the dance floor

Monster High wishes everyone a scary and bright howliday season! Explore the whole doll skullection for more scary-good gift ideas. Each sold separately, subject to availability

Description

This Monster High doll is the gift that keeps on giving! Cleo De Nile lights up the howlidays in a radiant golden gown and shimmery shawl. She sparkles like the fright of the season herself in a gleaming headdress, faboolous fringe, and sculptural heels. Featuring majestic packaging worthy of a pharaoh, this Winter Edition Howliday collectible is a perfect keepsake for skelebrating the most festive time of year! Doll stand included. Doll cannot stand alone. Colors and decorations may vary.

[simsfvr]

This is Tiago Pecholobo for Simply Lilac BC by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants Tiago Pecholobo is a man with a chest as hairy as his last name suggests (Pecholobo translates to "Wolfchest") and a pompadour that defies gravity.

This charmer is a master in the art of wearing open shirts (because why button up when you can dazzle?). His gold chain isn’t just an accessory, he wears it like a "Bachelor of the Year medal" (a title he’s awarded himself for the past five years, naturally).

As if that weren’t enough, Tiago proudly showcases a collection of figurines so bizarre they could have their own horror movie. He affectionately dubs it an "artistic conversation starter", although it often leaves people speechless.

Tiago is searching for the love of his life, and after years of fruitless searching and relationships shorter than the number of closed buttons on his shirts, he doesn't want to miss the chance to try his luck with Lilac.

Name: Tiago Pecholobo Age Group: Young Adult Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Hetero Skills: - Traits: Cringe, Overachiever, Hot-headed Aspiration: City Native Likes: affection, jokes, backyard music, pranks, deep thoughts, white, gossip, flirtation, singer songwriter music, hip hop music, blue, metal music, complaints, alternative music, carnival beats music, physical intimacy, electronica music, dj booth music, compliments, potty humor, silly behavior, arguments, small talk, soul music, gray. Dislikes: black, lullabies radio music, deception, winter holiday music, easy listening music, kids radio music. Gifts: goat, lump of clay, photo camera Misc: His motto is: Where there's hair, there's joy… and I've got an endless supply. He loves to wear lipbalm.

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? (The bachelorette will have the ‘player’ trait cheated and her boundaries set to no jealousy, so it will not impact your sim’s relationship with her.) Y

WooHooing other contestants? N

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs? Y

Flirting with the host? Y

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? (ie. Evil to Good, depending on what your Sim does, or adding traits) Y

Becoming an occult? Y

[treebarkzine]

Meet your organiser and host the splendid @scrambledlikeeggs

Pronouns: Any

Scrambled is a writer and artist but does neither as much as they would like to, you will often find them in some online rabbit hole or world building for a new project.

Meet one half of our brilliant writing mod team, the awesome @apollothetransboy

pronouns: he/him

Apollo is an artist, composer, and a musician, though primarily spends his time as a writer. You’ll find him buried in a book, Google Docs, or the next episode of Supernatural.

Let me introduce the second half our our writing team, the dazzling @the-dark-abyss

pronouns: they/them

Abyss is an avid fic writer and fan media consumer. They also draw sometimes. They haven't left the winter or the desert, are definitely not obsessed with Joel Smallishbeans, and go feral on a daily basis.

Meet the wonderful @winterbyn!

pronouns: he/any

winter is an artist and writer who, if not busy doing either of those, will either play video games or be busy making ones. any of the above will most likely result in a new AU idea.

introducing the terrific @tinjap!

pronouns: she/her

Tinja's hobbies include drawing (usually pictures of Martyn), starting unnecessary amounts of silly projects and collecting cute looking toys

And last but not least the great @goldstargloww!

pronouns: they/them

Gold is a random blob you've encountered on the internet who does approximately too many things to coherently summarize. drawing, writing, coding, always doing some form of creating—but for now, they'll just be watching while lurking in the background.

[pentrologram]

advent calendar - day eighteen

You like the high kingdom, you think.

royalty!john price/civilian!reader

a/n; honestly i'm starting to think that some of these should be extended further since i'm not really doing them justice with my 600< philosophy rn lolll;; i really like this idea for a small fic but i gen just don't have the time rn. big dramatic sigh. part one is here (recommended!!)

John Price pays for your fare to the high kingdom that summer.

He doesn't send any more correspondence after the snippy letter he wrote in the winter, the latest letter you received from John's seneschal, who was notably a lot less warm than John.

You had debated the integrity of getting on a mysterious carriage and leaving your family—all you knew—behind for a man you hadn't seen since you were eight. Or ten. At this point, it was blurry. Despite all your self-preservation, you said goodbye to your family and loaded your trunk of belongings into the fancy, royal carriage that came to collect you.

The ride there was beautiful. The farthest you'd ever been from home was an hour's horse ride, and you were well past that point now, just staring out the carriage's window at passing mountains, streams and flowering trees. The kingdom eventually comes into view, and the sight makes you gasp- it's dazzling, all glass and gold and glitz, the castle standing proudly in the middle of a moat that flowed freely into the ocean below the bridge you were riding over.

You felt five shades too grey when you were helped out of the carriage, only in the plain white shirt and trousers you wore all the time. The people that live in the city surrounding the castle- aristocrats, you think- are wearing pastels that reflect the summer light around the stained glass floors, making bouncy reflections everywhere.

As you're escorted into the castle, you see groomed, fluffy dogs- nothing like the herders the neighbours had, even they seemed to walk with more purpose- and stalls selling little lemon cakes and even a whole shop dedicated to selling spoons. The sight makes you giggle and you wonder what your moms would think.

You think the castle is a lot more beautiful on the inside. You don't get to take in a lot of it since you're being escorted through, not toured, but what you see is still beautiful. Portraits of all the heirs, including John's parents, their faces dimly familiar, memories of them feeding you cheese and bread bubbling up to the forefront of your mind.

Eventually, you're led through large double doors, revealing the man himself; John Price. He's grown up a lot, you think to yourself in wonder. At least six feet tall with bulk on his bones, and a rather dashing beard, too. He's pouring over a strategy table with a similarly large man wearing some sort of face covering, and they both look up when you and your entourage enter. John straightens out, claps the other man on the shoulder, and comes forward.

And- wow. He's grown up a lot. You can only hope that you've aged as well as he has, your hands toughened from working with hot temperatures and sharp knives, wrinkles on your forehead from squinting into ovens for too long. He, on the other hand, has smile lines and a careful look to him, lips pressed in a line as he appraises you, and you realize that you've forgotten-

"Oh, um, hello." Stupid. Crap. You're not built for this. What else do you say to the King? Do you bow? Would that be weird? Would not bowing be weirder? It seems to be the right move, though, because you watch with rapt attention as his smile lines crease and his mouth turns up in a sincere smile.

"Hello. We've things to discuss, don't we?"

[li-an-nie]

The birth of a Star (2)

[Stories of a childhood that never was] [Part 1] [AO3]

TW: Canonical Child Abuse

~~~ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ~~~

Even in hard times, there is comfort in things. Even when winter arrives and the cold barges in, and the flat becomes freezing and blank white grey, there is comfort in things. The streets outside, with their flashing bright lights, draped like a jeweled net over the barren trees, the graining sound of Christmas music booming over hidden speakers into every little corner, the bustling crowds of people, with their heavy winter coats and ridiculously big hats and scarves, staggering under the weight of overflowing bags full of gifts and luxuries whose names you could only guess, and meanwhile there was Micha, walking through the streets with the same things he’d been wearing in spring, summer, autumn.

Except, he was wearing a scarf right now – a reward, or ‘gift’ from the old geezer. “Boy! You can’t walk around like this, it’s damn freezing outside!” he'd said, “Here, take my scarf and the hat and these gloves–“ “I don’t want them!” “You have to!!” and they’d gotten into a fight; Micha didn’t want anything, he’d already gotten enough from the old man. But that geezer had been so maddeningly persistent, holding him captive in the shop and almost making him late for his errands!– And in the end, he had no choice but to accept the scarf at least.

Now, he was trudging through the cold, down the dreary shopping street again. The neighborhood they lived in was teeming with shadows: the critters, the bad people, the homeless, alcoholics, and drug addicts. They rarely showed themselves in the daylight, but if you paid attention, you’d catch glimpses of them—lurking at the edges of alleys, huddled beneath bridges, waiting for the night to claim them like wolves emerging from their dens.

However, in a festive seasons like this, where shiny and vibrant frills dangled left and right, the upbeat tunes of music twirled through the air and people bustled around in a jolly mood, all that darkness and muck of the city would fade away—overlit by the dazzle of Christmas.

Yet again, this was something Micha didn’t know if he liked or not. He couldn’t care less about all of these festivities, nor could he care any less about his birthday, which was just around the corner. They didn’t mean anything to him–and they never had all this time before.

But, this year… this year might be different for once.

As with any festive holiday, people were enticed to spend and indulge. Shops lining the street flaunting their big display windows, with the latest fashion collections draped over slender mannequins, flashy gadgets promising cutting-edge technology at a so-called “special price”, and shelves brimming with colorful, quirky toys of every kind–from small miniatures to large kitchen replicas, from soft fabric animals to hard building blocks. Even the jeweler next to the bookshop had joined in on the fun, dressing their windows with tinsel and twinkling lights, though their exorbitant prices remained eye-watering even after all the supposed discounts.

Micha could only scoff at the sight that was offered to him left and right – this was a completely different world to his own. He had no place here, and he didn’t want one. 

Where he belonged was the cold, shuttering flat that he grew up in. The dirty, cramped back alleys, where the overlooked and forgotten roamed. And also this old, cluttered bookshop – with only a string of modest fairy lights framing the windows, and a handmade Christmas wreath from one of the regulars, hanging crookedly on the door. There was simply no space for anything else, once the carts with all the books were put up outside in front of the windows.

Although Micha had been coming here almost every other day for nearly three months now, they’d barely cleaned up anything. Most of the time initially had been spent teaching him how to read, and after that, whenever the old gramps had suggested kicking off his grand clean-up plan, the effort would resolve and the gramps would reclude himself into a corner as soon as he'd gotten his hands on a book that caught his interest – which was usually the very first one he picked up.

Learning from his example, Micha often did the same, and he’d found a plethora of books that he had wanted to start but never found enough time to read.

He would only ever read when he was here, one to two hours a day inside the shop, because this was the place where all the books belonged to.

Sometimes, the geezer would say, “Just take them with you! No one’s gonna buy these obscure books you like anyway-!!” But Micha had refused every time. First of all – the books he was interested weren’t obscure at all, they talked about scientific discoveries and human history, about perception of space and the hidden body language of domesticated wild cats.

Second of all – just like with the scarf, he disliked taking so many things from the geezer. He’d taught him reading and that was enough, he didn't want any more, he wanted this whole thing to stay purely transactional.

Third… he didn’t know how he could have explained bringing all these new books home to his father. Although he could of course say that they had been stolen – but it would’ve felt wrong somehow, for him to say that something this valuable was stolen.

“Fine by me then,” that old geezer had said, “it just means that you’ll come here more often to read, eh? More company for me!”

And today, it was already the Second Advent, they were sitting in the back of the shop clea–... reading again. And just like any other day, the geezer had asked him to take a book home and Micha had refused.

As they sat in silence, the old man seemed lost in something. Finally, he spoke up, asking what had likely been on his mind for weeks.

“Say, kid… isn’t it boring hanging around old me all the time?” The old geezer shook his head. “Truly, I’ve never seen a boy read as much as you!”

“…”

“Don’t you wanna go outside, hang out with the other kids sometimes? My grandchildren, they're about yer age, and they always want to go out. Always ask me to play tag or frisbee or soccer with 'em.” He snorted. “But look at me – I’m an old man already! My knee would give out before I could even make the first kick!!”

“…”

“Don’t turn out like me, boy!! Move your body and stay fit while you still can!!”

And as the old man rambled, Micha just kept his nose behind the pages. He didn’t want to talk about the topic, but he still listened to what the gramps had to say. He didn't want to play with the other kids, he never had. He wasn't a kid like them, he didn't want to be – instead, he wanted to grow up, fast. He wanted to grow up so that he could leave this place, become an independent adult, buy his own clean flat and make real transactions with other people. But, he also thought, he didn’t wanna grow up too fast, otherwise he’d end up like this old geezer right here.

“By the way,” the old man continued, “I never asked yer age. How old are you?”

“...eight.”

“Aha! That's when I had my first crush!”

“...”

“And when’s your birthday?”

“…25th of December.”

“Ah?!? That's just around the corner!!” the old man shouted out in surprise. “But also Mighty God, what an unlucky date for you!!”

“…What... Why?” Micha asked confused.

“Well don’tcha only get half the presents every year then? Knew a guy once, his big day was on the 24th. And he always complained about it – how his parents cut corners, and all of his friends were away with their families, y’know! But I said to him, you’re lucky to even get gifts at all!! ‘Twas a hard time back then, I still clearly remember. Christmas, it was completely different… couldn’t imagine the streets looking even half as good as today. We weren't even really allowed to call it Christmas, hear..!”

And he rambled on again, about traditions and the break of those traditions and the past, and Micha saw that it made him really passionate, but he really couldn’t care less about any of that. The old geezer was talking about a time from half a century ago, and Micha lived here, in the present, he didn’t need to know about any of that.

“…Anyway,” the old geezer said eventually, “unfortunately, just like that guy’s friends, I won’t be around during holidays. Gotta see my daughter and her kids in the countryside, eat that awful goose she always makes. She's always complainin' that I shouldn't live by myself, but look at her, she can't even cook without me there to help! I have to go all the way to her just for the goose!” He sighed dramatically. “And how come a gramps like me's still living in the city, while the whole rest of the family’s now stuck outside? The world’s gone crazy, I tell ya,” he grunted.

Micha chuckled a bit, despite himself.

“So I won’t be here on your birthday,” the old man said, rubbing his chin, “but I’ll still think of something for ya.”

After that, Micha had hung around the shop for another hour or so, not doing any of the cleaning he was supposed to. When it was time to head out for his work, the old geezer had stopped him at the entrance.

“Boy,” he’d said, “make sure to come back next week.” He'd smiled. “There’s gonna be a surprise for ya!”

And those words had lingered in Micha’s mind when he’d returned home. They had lingered when he’d sunk into his bed, fallen asleep with the book next to him. And they lingered over the next few days, over Sunday and Monday when the shop was closed, and they lingered when he was out in the day doing his errands and his work and his misdeeds again.

Up until now, that's all there had been – just simply trying to get by, his days preoccupied solely with the efforts of living. But now, somehow, this new thing that would always stay at the back of his mind and distract him had appeared. When he'd passed the sweets shelf on his errand that day, he'd unwittingly let the eggs slip out his bag – by the time the staff noticed he had long disappeared, but he was thinking to himself, a distraction, a distraction, it must be a bad thing after all.

Yet, whenever night fell, and he was left all alone with only his thoughts, instead of blaming those thoughts, he let them linger inside his mind.

The night, it had grown bitterly cold, and his thin, run-down blanket just wasn’t cutting it anymore, but each time the memory of those words resounded inside him, they would warm him up in his chest just a little bit.

And slowly... he was realizing. He didn’t want to admit but he couldn't help it – he was realizing, he was actually looking forward to something, he was looking forward to what the geezer had said. He was looking, towards the future, just ever so slightly, not because he wanted the present gone, but because for once, he wanted the future to come. He wanted to know what the geezer would give him.

And he was going to accept it. He didn't know what it was but he wanted to accept it too, even if that meant he wouldn't give anything in return, even if it meant he would make this something more than transactional. But he also thought to himself that maybe, it already was. Maybe it already had been, since long ago.

On the morning, after three days had passed, he'd woken up in his bed. And for the first time in forever, he’d woken up and thought at the same time; maybe it wasn’t so bad to wake up in the cold after all. Even in times like these, there is still comfort in things. 

So he was walking down the now so familiar side street again, where even during Christmas time, only a few souls could ever be seen. This stretch of road was quieter than most after all, the usual hum of the season muffled in this tucked-away corner. He turned round the crossing and passed the jewelers again, stopping at the entrance of the second-hand bookshop. When he reached for the door, he tried to push it open, but it didn’t budge.

It didn't budge. It was locked.

He peered through the glass. The shop… it was dark inside.

The old geezer hadn’t opened yet? But it was afternoon already. The carts that were usually put up front weren’t out yet either – that was strange.

Micha stopped again and looked around. The people on the streets were just passing by... they didn’t look at the shop, didn’t notice him or the closed door, they just strolled past as if this was normal, as if there was nothing off about this.

He shook his head to himself, of course they wouldn’t know... the few customers that came here were all regulars, why would strangers find any of this odd?

He looked around again. He decided to ask in the jewelry shop next to it. He knew he didn’t look the part to step inside, with his age and that ragged get-up of his, but he had to try.

The small bell above the door jingled as he entered.

“...A child?” The cashier said in surprise. “Where are your parents, kid..?” His voice drifted off a bit when he saw the scruffy clothes on the kid.

Micha ignored his question. “Where’s the old geezer from the bookshop next here?”

The cashier blinked. “Oh, him? I was wondering about that as well. He’s usually already open by the time I get here.” Then he shrugged, only smiled with uncertainty. “Maybe he just had an appointment today or something..?”

No, that couldn’t be right. The geezer did have an appointment, but it had been an appointment with him.

Micha clenched his fist. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the shop again, leaving the cashier looking after him puzzled.

Micha returned to the entrance door and decided to just wait in front of it. He had no way to contact the geezer, so all he could do was wait and hope. He still had a few errands to run later, but he came here earlier than usual today, he could wait two or three hours depending on the weather.

After a while, some forty minutes or so must’ve passed, Micha was still just sitting and staring next to the entrance, when a middle-aged woman in a long coat appeared round the corner. And when her gaze landed on him, she stopped in her tracks and narrowed her eyes.

“You…!” she said suddenly, striding toward him.

Micha, startled, scrambled to his feet. Instinctively he turned to run, but the woman was quick and blocked his path.

“Hey, don’t leave!” she said with a flustered face. “You’re the boy who’s been hanging around Hr. Heinrich, aren’t you?”

Micha stopped. “Herr… Heinrich?” he repeated confused.

The woman, stunned, only blinked for a moment. “The shop owner!” she then clarified in surprise. “You… you didn’t know his name?”

“...He never told me.” I never told him mine either.

The woman, still a bit perplexed, just said, “Anyway, boy, it’s probably better if you go home now...” She gave him a rueful smile. “Mr. Heinrich won’t be back. Not for a while, at least.”

Micha froze.

…What? Why?

There was something in the way she said those words, like an irrefutable fact of truth, that made his chest tighten.

“What..?” he croaked again.

The woman looked at him, her tone somber. “Mr. Heinrich, he... as you might know, he's always had a bad knee. And yesterday night…” She looked to her feet as she paused in those words. She sighed.

“...he had an accident. Slipped on the ice, landed very badly. He’s in the hospital right now, it’s not life-threatening, but… the doctors, they don’t know if he’ll be able to walk properly again in the future.”

Micha’s heart dropped to the ground.

“N-no…” he tried to stammer something else, but his throat was so tight, all he could do was shake his head in denial.

The woman raised her hands. “Don’t worry! His daughter’s with him, she’s taking care of everything right now. I helped with Mr. Heinrich’s accounting sometimes, so she called me this morning to explain.”

Micha swallowed. “Wh-What about the shop?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said, “Mr. Heinrich... he’s always been more of a collector than a shopkeeper, really. He loved– loves gathering all sorts of things. Things most people would have just thrown away.”

She shook her head, her face filled with a quiet sadness. “But with his injury… I don’t know if he’ll be able to keep running this shop. He’s getting older, you know. He opened this place mainly to pass the time, make a few bucks here and there, maybe get rid of some of the stuff he’s collected over the years.”

Her eyes drifted to the cluttered display visible through the glass door, and Micha’s gaze followed. The shop, usually alive with books and odd trinkets, felt empty, almost mournful in its stillness.

“And I'm not sure his family– his daughter will want to deal with all this,” she added with uncertainty. “It’s a lot to sort through. If he can’t manage it himself…” She trailed off, glancing down at the ground.

Micha’s throat tightened. He couldn't say anything, couldn't really think clearly right now. And he couldn’t believe the words that woman was saying. She was a regular, he remembered now, he'd seen her before, but he still couldn’t just simply believe her. It couldn't be–that old geezer was supposed to be here today. He was supposed to be here, today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day from Tuesday to Saturday until the Fourth Advent, and then, he said he’d go to his family and be back after New Years, he’d be here again, every day from Tuesday to Saturday. He was not supposed to just… disappear like that. This place, the one place that felt like he belonged to, couldn't just simply disappear like that.

There was a clot in his throat, so heavy and thick, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He wanted to get rid of it, cough it up, swallow it down, but it felt impossible.

“Hey, you alright, boy?” the woman asked worriedly. She saw how tightly Micha was gripping his scarf, his hand almost white. She’d seen him before, and she’d always found it strange, his unkempt hair and the worn-out clothes he was wearing. She found it strange why Mr. Heinrich had never said a word about it to him or anyone else before, why he’d just always laughed, always treated him like any other boy. And then, she realized, maybe that’s why that boy had always come here in the first place, maybe that's exactly what he had wanted, more than anything else.

She tightened her fist. “...I don't want to give you false hope, Mr. Heinrich wouldn't want that. But he's a tough old man, and nothing's ever set in stone. If he still manages to pull through, and I really want to believe in him, then he'll return... It would be a while before that would happen, but... you should check in here again. Just in case, after New Years or so.” And she bent slightly down.

“Let's keep our fingers crossed for him, okay?” She made a cheerful gesture with her hand, trying to lighten the mood. And although Micha barely looked at it, he nodded, with the clot still in his throat. The woman smiled bittersweet, she really did hope for the best, she said goodbye to the boy and left, and when she boarded the bus and sat down, she thought, Oh, I could’ve given him Mr. Heinrich’s contact info – not that that old man ever uses his phone anyway.

But what she didn’t know was that that boy never had a real link to the outside world. He couldn't use the landline, and he would never hold a phone until he’d steal his first one at the age of 12. And what she also didn’t know was that the boy had never allowed many things into his life – he never had much to begin with, and he didn’t want to lose his footing in reality by having too many things. Things he would never be able to keep anyway, things that would only slip away through his fingers like sand again, just like this, just like what had happened today, he knew it, he’d always known, he knew it would have happened eventually.

As he was running back through the cold empty streets, he couldn’t get rid of this damn clot in his throat, and he thought, that’s right, I should’ve never allowed this into my life, if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have had all these stupid hopes, all these stupid wishes and dreams and cravings… I wouldn’t have this clot in my throat right now.

He was holding onto the scarf, grabbing it tight while the cold wind from the West blew into his bare face, and he regretted, he regretted so much ever stepping foot into that rusty old shop – but at the same time, there was a tiny speck in him that wished, it wished he would have accepted all those things from the old geezer, it wished he would’ve brought those books home with him and the candy and that ugly thick hat and the oversized gloves, he wished he would’ve accepted and taken them, he regretted that too.

When he came home and opened the door, his father stood before him.

“What’s this?” his father asked as he held a tattered, blocky picture book in his hand.

The boy froze.

“What’s this?” that rancid father of his asked. And then again, “What’s this, what’s this, what’s this-” and then he tossed the book across the room onto the wall, and it plopped down with a thud as his father turned towards him, “you had this? You had this, the whole damn time? In your room, hidden from me? You think you could hide her from me, huh?!” “No–“

“How’d get your hands on that? How’d you get your hands on that thing, huh? You sneaky little bastard, why do you keep this shit when I am fucking trying to clean this goddamn place of all the trash—”

And as he raised his fist and was about to grab the boy, he noticed something around his neck–a scarf. He pulled it off, while the boy could only stare frozen, and he looked at it with big, wide eyes, almost as if he’d found the next shiny treasure, forgotten about his previous reason of rage already. He grunted, “What’s this? You stole this from somewhere? You steal a scarf for yourself, but not for your damn father?” And he threw the scarf onto the wall with a sharp, violent motion, “Fucking thief.”

No–no, the boy could only shake his head, that scarf wasn’t stolen–it was given to him, he had received it from someone, it was a gift, a gift, a gift, a gift,  not something he’d stolen–

“Where’s the food? Your bag’s fucking empty,” his father grabbed the backpack, looked inside and clicked his tongue in disgust. And with a sudden, vicious movement, he flung the bag against the wall too, watching as it plopped to the ground with all the other trash. “What’s wrong with you these days, you little runt? Running around all day, going places, doing everything but your fucking errands–you plan on leaving your father, huh? Plan on leaving me all alone here?!”

He grabbed the boy, threw him onto the ground, and he leaned over him as he slowly clutched his fatty, rugged hands around his neck—

“Well I won’t let you– you have nowhere to go anyway!! You’ll always be something she and I created, always be a piece of trash!!” and as his clutch tightened and tightened like shackles, the boy gasped for air but he couldn’t, he couldn't, the eyes above him in that dark silhouette, they started to glow like a monster, and from the towering body above him escaped a sickening howl, “Doomed by fate, I tell you!! You and I are doomed by fate, and there’s only one person to blame!!!” His voice was a mockery of joy, an insanity borne from years of bitterness and rage, and he kept laughing like a maniac, a lunatic, as he clamped tighter and tighter around his neck, and the boy’s vision was a blur he saw stars and dots and black and white, but from the corner of his eyes he could spot something else... a musty green blanket lying on the coach. and he realized. he realized, and then laughed in his head, Ah, I really hate winter after all. God has played a joke on me yet again. And as his vision faded and his mind slowly fell into unconsciousness, there he felt the clot in his throat dissappear as well, and he thought at last, I guess this is where I'm supposed to be, this is me, this is my life, this is where I belong after all.

It was Christmas. The 25th of December.

The blocky book was long gone, tossed into the communal trash outside, whisked away to somewhere far away by the garbage men. Even if the boy had sneaked out at night and tried to retrieve it before dawn, he could have done nothing about the torn pages and the smell of alcohol on them anyway, and he also had lost the need in him to hold onto that book at all.

The scarf had been snatched by his father, he’d worn that thing that was meant for the boy and he’d worn it ragged in just a matter of weeks, he’d complained about the itchy feeling, then thrown it out in the garbage as well. When the boy had gone to retrieve it, it’d been taken away already, by someone who probably needed it more than him.

A few days after his father had strangled him unconscious; there was an incident down the road at the jewelers. It’d been robbed, it appeared, or there was an attempt at robbery – in any case, that shop deserved it anyway, with those exorbitantly high prices. But when the robbers had made a run for it and gotten cornered by the police, the three teens, clumsy and panicked looking for somewhere to hide, had smashed the window of the bookshop next to it – but they had such difficulty navigating inside, knocked over nearly everything in their path, that they'd gotten caught by the police immediately. It was over before it had even begun.

As the boy was walking past the crime scene, arriving at the area cordoned off with yellow police tape that couldn’t prevent anyone from entering, he glanced from behind the barrier inside the shop. It was too dark, and too cramped, to make out any clear details, but he didn’t need to see much anyway–he knew what it looked like inside well enough, he’d been in there so many times already and his memory was sharp and strong enough to recall every cluttered corner.

He remembered his past transaction with the owner of that shop. He was supposed to help clean it up in exchange for something. But they hadn’t gotten very far with it, and now, it seemed like their inaction had unwittingly helped the police in this case.

The shop, however, now looked more disorderly than ever – no one had bothered to clean it up after the crime. Who would even? The owner was here no longer, and these were all things people considered trash anyway, useless things no one wanted or needed.

There was no one in this world who would ever want to rob this place.

…

The boy glanced around cautiously. Making sure no one was watching, he slipped under the tape and climbed through the gap in the broken window.

The rusty, woody old smell was gone. It was silent, there was no sound coming from anywhere, just the faint whoosh from the wind drifting in through the broken glass. His mouth felt dry, and bitter, and his body shivered a bit, his hands freezing from the cold, and this place, this whole place also just felt cold now.

He wandered around, stepped over the piles of scattered books, magazines, and records. The clutter seemed even more chaotic than before, like a graveyard of forgotten things. He walked towards the back where he spotted an old chair, still piled high with scarves and hats like some kind of makeshift clothes rack.

He looked around the back of the shop again, and he saw something stashed in the shelf next to the desk.

As he approached it, he saw a red cushion, with words he could read now written on it.

...

Everything in this place was trash.

Just like in his home, there was nothing of value to people in here, and the only ones who would ever care about trash like this were the humans who had already lived their lives.

There was really nothing worth stealing in here.

But it was his birthday, and it was Christmas. So might as well take this one thing that no one needed.

He was walking down one of the bigger avenues. The shops were all closed by now, but there were still many people around, and there was also still Christmas music blasting through the speakers, and also still fairy lights hung up on barren trees and lanterns, illuminating the cold night streets.

Light snow had started flurrying from the sky.

Although it was already past Christmas Eve, the boy decided to play Santa for once. As he strolled along the sidewalk, turning into a larger plaza, his attention was caught by two kids playing tag around one of the wide plaza trees. They looked like siblings – they had to be, otherwise they wouldn’t be wearing the same scarfs and same hats with the same identical hatch pattern. Two adults that appeared to be their parents were watching them from a bench on the side, and as one of the kids, a little girl, tripped and slipped on the snow, the woman shot up and rushed to her in panic.

As she lifted her up, the girl started to cry, but not because she had slipped–no, apparently she had lost the game, as her brother had tagged her before her fall and he was now triumphantly strutting round the tree.

The woman was unable to comfort the little girl, while her brother, full of smug pride, decided to take a break. He plopped down next to his father on the bench.

And then–

Pfofffffpffpfpht!!

The loud sound of an uncomely accident erupted, blasting over the Christmas jingles and echoing throughout the plaza.

A few onlookers turned and chuckled.

“Wha-how-” the boy spun around in shock, “wha–, who put that there?! ” He gasped and turned to the man next to him, “Papa?!”

“Hey–don’t look at me!” the father snot back, raising his hands in self-defense.

The little girl, now completely distracted, laughed out loud at the scene and teased, “Haha! You stink, Willi, you stink!” And she was trying to contain herself, but she bubbled the whole time when she continued, “A kid! There was a kid! Didn’t you see?”

And the father could only shake his head and admit to his lack of spatial awareness, while the boy and the girl had already forgotten about their game of tag, occupied with the new toy that had appeared as if out of nowhere. The girl, her cheeks rosy from laughter, glanced up and around the plaza once more, trying to spot the mysterious kid she thought she'd seen. But what she didn’t know was at that point, he'd already been long gone by then.

The boy, the dirty and ragged one, dashed by a corner, ran through another snow-dusted road, and he felt like he was supposed to smile or laugh or rejoice at what happened–a good deed, if he could even call it that, for the first time in a long while, he’d given something away again without needing anything in return.

But instead of all that, he slowly came to a halt, and he felt his chest and throat tighten and his vision blur, there was something glossy, a stinging wetness at the corner of his eyes. He brushed it away quickly, as if the cold wind were to blame.

As he walked, his steps quieter now, past the rows of closed and towering shops and their large, dimly lit windows, his mind kept wandering to things he didn’t want to think about. It kept wandering, to something that once used to be, to things that once could have been.

His treasure was gone, and so was the place he could have belonged to.

He should have known from the beginning. He should’ve never wanted, never accepted these things in the first place. He should’ve never let them, let wishes and let hope into his life – because then it hurt all the more when they were taken away from him.

The snow stopped falling, and he looked up. He looked at the sea of stars in the sky, and he stretched out his hand.

The stars, they represented the freedom he'd never have.

And they were looking down on him – mocking, taunting his measly existence.

No—they probably didn't even know of it.

If the stars up above, in their oh so high-and-mighty place, couldn’t be bothered to fall down and acknowledge even the average man’s life, then what made him think they would ever be able to see him, ever be capable of acknowledging his?

There was no one in this world that could acknowledge his existence. Neither among the stars up above, nor here on this cold, unforgiving Earth. 

Nothing would ever belong to him, and he would never belong to anything.

Nothing belonged to him, and he belonged to nothing.

He'd turned nine on that Christmas.

One or two months after that December, blue-collared appeared round the bookshop and started taking everything out, and ironically, the clean-up he once thought would take more than a lifetime had been finished in just a matter of days.

The posters he’d sometimes see of the stranger whose womb he came from, her face, her poise, and that smile of hers – they started to move him less and less, there was nothing connecting him to her anymore. There was only the rose, which wasn’t even really his, an object whose meaning he couldn’t comprehend yet. And as he watched himself grow taller, his features sharpening and molding more and more into hers, he slowly started to get sick of her face – because it was now his as well.

Nothing belonged to him, and he belonged to nothing.

He would tell that to himself, again and again, the man, his father, those words would echo in his mind and repeat like a mantra.

But deep down, he felt, he knew something was wrong.

His life had been nothing but a collection of trash–yet even inside that heap of garbage, there’d been moments he had treasured like gifts.

The experiences that shaped him, the few things that had given him hope, they never completely left his mind. And although they faded from his memory eventually, the thing that stayed was the ember in his heart, a tiny speck of the hope he resented so much.

Nothing belonged to him, and he belonged to nothing.

But to him, he wouldn't treat it like hope – he didn't want hope to be the thing that would drive him.

Instead, he treated it for what it truly was. A fire, a desire, a search for purpose.

Nothing belonged to him, and he belonged to nothing.

His existence was nothing, it was meaningless.

But that also meant he could give it any meaning he wanted to.

If the stars up above were looking down on him, if heaven couldn't be bothered with existences like his, if he was truly still born from a star, and carried the blessings of God alongside him — then he'd throw all of that out the window. He'd rise, and he'd climb his way up, he'd climb the stairs and reach for the sky, reaching for the heavens and then putting them in their place. And when he did, he wouldn't just stop there. He'd go even higher, reach the very top – he would become the highest star among them all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Three years after that fateful Christmas day, he was walking down the same street again.

Hands buried in the pockets of an oversized black hoodie, and the tattered jeans he’d already worn in spring, summer, autumn. It was cold, but he was used to it by now, had been for as long as he could remember.

He hadn’t touched a book in years – there was simply no place for that in his life. He’d started going for bigger loot now, stealing jewelry, watches and pick pocketing off the street. The naive daydreams of real transactions he’d once had as a kid were long gone, he was a thief, a criminal now, and he’d come to embrace it, there was simply no place for doubt in his life anymore.

With the loot, he was able to save up money. As he walked, the sound of it would come out his pockets – a few large bills and coins were stashed inside. He’d been saving for more than one, maybe two years already... and today was Christmas. Today was his birthday.

He was walking, and he passed by a big display window. He barely glanced at the festive decorations – Christmas wreaths, gifts and twinkling lights adorned the inside, just like at all the other shops. But instead of displaying fashion, gadgets, or toys, it showed two mannequins, dressed in sports jerseys – soccer jerseys. The store, purely dedicated to soccer, displayed the usual array of merchandise: cleats, shirts, scarves. And then his gaze drifted lower to the ball at the foot of one of the mannequins.

…A soccer ball.

...

He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted something that wouldn’t be a waste of money. Something solid, something that would last, even if it was just a stupid ball.

Something that could make him feel again. Feel alive, just a little bit more.

Something that could maybe even give him meaning, a purpose, however small it was.

Something that he could accept, without needing anything in return. And that would accept him, without anything in return.

Something that could belong to him, and that he could also belong to.

A soccer ball.

On that day, he chose something to live for.

~~~ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ~~~

Afterword:

Hi, thank you so much for reading! It's really crazy what an obsession with a certain character can do to you. Seriously, I've never had someone fictional occupy my mind as long and so extremely like Kaiser - saying it out loud is so weird haha, but I've started seeing things differently because of him (call me crazy). I appreciate my home city a lot more now, and whenever I was strolling through Christmas markets the past weeks, my mind just kept going back to Kaiser and I got sad, but also so empowered through his story. Save to say, I *had* to do something for his birthday, and in the end this jumble of words came out!

I wrote most of this freeform, that's why there might be some weird pacing and tonal shifts in the story lmao (I also didn’t expect this to get so long and have a side character become so important.) I wanted to touch on different themes for the story, but also nothing majorly coherent, I think some of the stuff is clearly spelled out and some is up to your interpretation.

if you wanna read some more background info on the story and how it came to be, check the rest of my Author's note on AO3! (sorry it's pretty long): The birth of a star

I hope I was able to explore the themes of this character a bit better, give him some of the warmth and love that is usually associated with Christmas, but also stay true to that harsh coldness and reality of his past. In the end, his story is one of strength and empowerment though, a middle finger to destiny that shows that nothing is impossible, and that every one of us has the power to change our own fate.

Thank you for reading and happy birthday, Michael Kaiser <3

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Even more Wands!

(part 1, part 2)

So, I have some more wand designs for other characters, here specifically I'll be showing my designs for Fred, George, and Sirius' wands. We aren't actually told anything about their wands, so I took some creative liberties.

So without further ado:

Fred & George

When it came to Fred and George's wands I wanted each to look like a unique individual piece on its own, but together they'd look like a set. I also wanted them to have similar wands (in terms of their properties), but not the same, so I gave them different wand woods but the same core.

Fred's wand:

Spruce wood, Unicron Hair, 12", Whippy Flexibility

Unskilled wandmakers call spruce a difficult wood, but in doing so they reveal their own ineptitude. It is quite true that it requires particular deftness to work with spruce, which produces wands that are ill-matched with cautious or nervous natures, and become positively dangerous in fumbling fingers. The spruce wand requires a firm hand, because it often appears to have its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce. However, when a spruce wand meets its match – which, in my experience, is a bold spell-caster with a good sense of humour – it becomes a superb helper, intensely loyal to their owners and capable of producing particularly flamboyant and dramatic effects.

(From Pottermore)

George's wand:

Dogwood wood, Unicron Hair, 12", Bendy Flexibility

Dogwood is one of my own personal favourites, and I have found that matching a dogwood wand with its ideal owner is always entertaining. Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun. It would be quite wrong, however, to deduce from this that dogwood wands are not capable of serious magic when called upon to do so; they have been known to perform outstanding spells under difficult conditions, and when paired with a suitably clever and ingenious witch or wizard, can produce dazzling enchantments. An interesting foible of many dogwood wands is that they refuse to perform non-verbal spells and they are often rather noisy.

(From Pottermore)

Sirius Black

So, I think Sirius has two wands. I believe his first wand was snapped when he was sentenced to Azkaban and throughout the books we see him using a different wand. I headcanon Sirius' first wand to be made of Dogwood, like George's, with a Dragon Heartstring core, 13", and supple flexibility.

After Azkaban, I headcanon he uses his mother's wand, so the one I designed is Walburga's wand, actually:

English Oak wood, Dragon Heartstrings, 12 3/4",

A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure. The oak tree is called King of the Forest from the winter solstice up until the summer solstice, and its wood should only be collected during that time

(From Pottermore)

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Christmas Jewels

Our Christmas jewels continue with the matching earrings and necklace from the Van Cleef & Arpels Snowflake line that Queen Camilla owns.

From the Van Cleef & Arpels Website: Sparkling with light, the Snowflake High Jewelry collection is inspired by flakes of snow - an inspiration for Van Cleef & Arpels since the 1940s. Round diamonds combine to form dazzling winter motifs.

[lamprophonia]

》 [ yandere!Heir. ] 《

yan!heir x gn!reader: introduction. 517 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for general yandere behavior — manipulation etc. DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

leon vidal was the sole heir of vidal inc., a bioengineering company started by his father in the late 80s.

since then, the company has only grown, now having divisions in just about any industry possible. that's how you met leon — your father was a trusted work associate of his father's being sat together at a business dinner at the age of four so you wouldn't disturb the adults, you two were expected to get along — and get along you did.

you two quickly became friends. your parents were glad you got along with the young heir and were even happier to drive you over for playdates while they talked shop.

little leon was even happier to dazzle you with his impressive collection of toys. later, that grew into the new mountain bike he got, or the latest game system, or wait- what do you mean your family doesn't have an indoor pool? come on then, what's his is yours.

and in a way, he was right. you two were inseparable since the age of six. coming over was a weekly occurrence, which then turned to daily once you didn't need your parents to drive you everywhere.

the same went for every social circle.

he was popular, obviously — and since you were his best friend, you were popular by proxy, no matter whether you were actually a social person or not. in school, you gathered a large friend group, but leon didn't hesitate to favor you.

like, blatantly favor you out of all his friends. sure, they all got nice gifts, and invites to parties, but you were the one he was willing to spend thousands on 'just because'. you were the guest of honour at every single party. you were the one that got invited on trips with him to his family's summer home... or winter home... or really, wherever you want.

he doesn't care. as long as you're there, he's happy.

if you asked, or if anyone asked, for that matter, he didn't even like you like that. he definitely didn't think he was obsessed. it's only natural for him to want to see his best friend happy, right?

because that's what you are. his best friend.

and he would do anything for you. anything, ranging from spoiling you to the ends of the earth to taking apart your social circle by methodically driving away anyone he sees as a threat.

what? you're just so... perfect in his eyes. you deserve the best. it just so happens you don't seem to realize that the best is right there in front of you. it's not his fault you keep making these dumb decisions by choosing others over him. hell, he doesn't even mind.

he'll happily help set you straight. leon isn't above anything — bribery, gossip, blackmail. if that doesn't work, he'll take it a bit further — of course, he doesn't want to gaslight or manipulate you, but it's for your own good. promise. he knows you so well, after all; he knows what's best for you. he'll help you out.

you don't even have to ask.