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rubysunnday · 1 year ago

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as white as snow

summary: Y/N runs into Anthony Bridgerton, someone she's known of for years, but never gotten close to, at the winter solistice ball. Through a dramatic turn of events, the two are forced to acknowledge one another and their feelings.

The winter season had always been a dark, cold and occasionally lonely one. Many families of the ton left London for their country estates, choosing to spend the winter time in sprawling fields.

But there was one event that many families travelled to the outskirts of London for. the Countess of Derby's solstice ball.

It was the biggest event of the winter period. Invites were a coveted prize. Which was why Miss Y/N Hughes was currently staring, open mouthed, at the green envelope in her hand, her name elegantly scrawled on the front in gold.

'Y/N, close your mouth, we are not a codfish," her mother, Lady Hughes, snapped, setting her teacup down on the saucer with a clink.

Y/N hurried over to her mother and held the envelope out in front of her. Her mother cast an uninterested gaze over to her hand. There was a second before the envelope registered in her mind and, when it did, her mother let out an undignified shriek, snatching it from Y/N's hands.

"Robert! ROBERT!" Her mother yelled, barging past Y/N and hurrying into the morning room where her father sat, reading the newspaper.

Y/N stood to the side, trying not to show her amusement at her mother's reaction to the invite.

"We must go to the modiste right away," Lady Hughes said, rushing back into the room, their housekeeper trailing behind. "We need new dresses suitable for this event. Y/N, come along, we need to get you a new dress, dear."

"Is this," Y/N inhaled sharply, "corset meant to be this tight?"

"Of course, miss," the modiste said, pulling the laces even tighter. "It's meant to accentuate the waist and boobs."

"I think it's meant to be comfortable," Y/N muttered, wincing as the boning began to poke into the side of her boob. "And allow me to breathe."

Her mother had insisted the modiste was to dress them the night of the ball - making sure their new dresses looked the best. No expense had been spared, as was always the way, and Y/N's new gown was covered in gems and beads.

It hung on a hanger, on the edge of her door, sparkling and glittering in the candlelight. The modiste trotted over to the door, lifting the hook of the hanger off the wood.

Y/N put her hands on her waist, wincing as she tried to take a full breath in, the tight corset restricting the action.

"Would it be possible to loosen this corset a bit?" Y/N asked, looking over at the modiste.

"No, we would ruin the silhouette of the dress otherwise," the modiste said, shaking her head. She turned to the dress. "Now, let's put this on."

Their carriage rolled to an abrupt stop. Y/N tried not to lurch forward, gripping the carriage door tightly to stop herself from falling into her mother's lap.

"Remember, best behaviour," Lady Hughes warned, poking a few pins further into her hair. "We want to make an impression. And you, dearest," she looked at Y/N, "are running out of time to make a match."

"Oh, mama -"

"No, I won't hear it. You've been out in society for almost two years. Unless I see something happen tonight, your father and I will be arranging a match for you."

Y/N's eyes widened. "What? Mama!"

"Silence, Y/N." Her mother leant forward, pushing in to her space. "We will discuss this more later."

The carriage door opened and her father jumped out, extending his hand out to her mother, guiding her down the stairs. Y/N took a moment, pulling back the blanket that covered her legs, and then slid across the seats to the door. She lifted her dress up and put a slippered foot onto the first step, placing her hand in the footman's.

The Countess of Derby's mansion was a magnificently beautiful building. There were fifty-five acres of immaculately maintained gardens and the house itself was set in over two thousand acres of land.

It was a beautiful example of architecture. Each brick had been placed with care, flowers curling around the columns and windows.

Y/N pulled her velvet cloak tighter around her shoulders as she began to walk up the steps. A freezing gust of wind whipped at her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. Braziers and torches lined the stone steps leading up to the front door. Footmen stood at intervals, ready to assist if anyone needed it.

"Miss Hughes!"

Y/N turned, looking back down the path. Another coach had pulled up and its inhabitants were clambering out in a gaggle of laughs and complaints.

"Lord Bridgerton!' Y/N exclaimed, a smile overtaking her face. She walked back down the steps, holding her dress hem up off the floor. "This is a surprise!"

Anthony Bridgerton took the steps two at a time, meeting Y/N half way. He took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, all whilst looking directly at her.

Y/N suddenly found it hard to breathe. His gaze was intense and his hand warm against her cold skin.

She'd known Anthony for a few years now. It'd been a chance meeting at the opening of a new art exhibition that he'd brought them together. Both of them had been drawn to the same painting for the same reasons and, suddenly, Y/N had a new friendship.

A friendship she yearned to evolve into something more.

"Brother? You're blocking the path."

Anthony stood up, rolling his eyes as he did so. He stepped to the side and his younger brother, Colin, stepped up.

"Hello, Miss Hughes," Colin said, winking at her. "You look lovely."

"As do you, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said, smiling back at him.

Benedict followed behind Colin. "Miss Hughes," he said, nodding at her, a smile on his face. As he passed, he squeezed her arm in greeting.

"Mr Bridgerton," Y/N replied.

Daphne and Eloise followed behind their brothers, the former practically dragging the latter with her.

"Duchess," Y/N said, curtseying. "Miss Bridgerton." Y/N leant in to Anthony. "Good lord, there are a lot of you."

Anthony sighed heavily. "Imagine the carriage ride."

Y/N greeted Lady Bridgerton as she walked past, smiling warmly at her. "Shall we head inside, Lord Bridgerton?"

Anthony held out his arm and Y/N placed her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. "We shall, Miss Hughes."

As soon as they stepped inside the foyer, Y/N's breath was taken away. Fir trees covered in candles and decorations sat in each corner, lining the expansive space. Each one guided them towards the main ballroom where even more fir trees were stood. Dancers waltzed around the room, reds, greens, golds and whites blending together.

"Is this your first solstice ball?" Anthony asked, his voice quiet.

His breath danced across her skin and Y/N felt her arms tingle with goosebumps.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes trying to take in every detail in front of her. "It's... magical."

"Here, let me take your cloak," Anthony said, releasing her arm and coming around to stand in front of her. His fingers effortlessly undid the bow at her chest. His knuckles brushed across her skin, his signet ring cold to her warmth.

Y/N breathed in deeply and then regretted it as her corset almost tightened around her torso. She hid her stuttered breath until Anthony turned away, handing her cloak and his cape to the attendant by the door.

"Would you like to -"

"Miss Hughes?"

Y/N mentally swore. She turned her head and forced herself to smile at the older man standing in front of her, looking expectantly at her.

"Captain Sanders. I'm an old friend of your father's," he explained. "Your mother said I could ask you for a dance."

Y/N felt her lungs constrict. "Oh. Yes, of course, Captain."

She reluctantly held out her hand to the man. As he led her way, her other hand brushed against Anthony's her fingers locking with his for a split second as she tried to cling on.

Anthony watched her disappear into the crowd. His hand clenched into a tight fist and he then flexed it, trying to ignore the jealously and pain going through him.

It'd taken him far too long to realise Y/N was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He'd know she was running out of time and now, when he was about to begin trying to court her, she was being pulled from his grasp.

"Please tell me you did not just let Captain Sanders whisk Y/N away," Benedict said, coming to stand next to his older brother.

"He didn't give me much choice," Anthony grumbled. "Apparently her mother sent him over."

"Ah, Lady Hughes - she's on par with Lady Featherington."

"What do I do?"

"Are you actually asking me for advice?" Benedict asked, gaping at his brother.

Anthony shoved his shoulder. "Yes." Anthony sighed. "You know why."

Benedict did. He'd seen how his brother looked at Y/N, how he spoke to her, acted around her. She made him a better person by simply existing in his life. Anthony had never smiled as much as he did when Y/N was around.

"Ask her to dance," Benedict said with a shrug. "Then, take her for a stroll round the room and tell her. Her mother is clearly plotting. You know your time is limited."

"I know," Anthony whispered, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she danced around the room. Her gaze fixed on his for a moment and he felt his heart ache.

Y/N, too, felt her heart ache. Felt the pain of being so close to the man she wanted. Yet so far away.

Captain Sanders walked her back to her mother after their dance ended. Y/N could feel her dress clinging to her skin, the corset restricting her every movement and every breath. She knew it was far too tight - it should not be this painful to simply breathe.

"Captain Sanders, I do hope you'll call on us tomorrow," Lady Hughes said, smiling at the man. "I'm sure Y/N will be delighted to see you again."

Y/N just nodded.

"Now," her mother said, as soon as they were alone," your father and I have decided that come spring, you and Captain Sanders shall be wed."

Her heart stopped. A high pitched whine took over her hearing, drowning the ballroom noise out. Y/N put a hand on her stomach, trying to maintain her composure.

"Mama -"

"No discussion, Y/N," her mother said, the warning clear in her tone. "You've had two years. Time is up."

Her mother flounced away, leaving Y/N behind. She stood there, stunned. Her breathing had quickened, her chest frantically rising and falling.

A cloak fell around her shoulders and Y/N jumped slightly, her head shooting up to see who had appeared behind her.

Anthony, his dark eyes full of concern, looked at her. "Shall we go outside?"

Y/N nodded, numb to everything around her. She didn't even realise when Anthony took her hand in hers, gently tugging her out onto the veranda.

The cold, winters air hit her instantly. It did nothing to calm her racing heart, to ease the tightness of her lungs as they stuggled to keep up with her panic. Her corset was impossibly tight, her vision was begin to spin.

"I am to be wed," Y/N whispered, walking aimlessly down the steps of the veranda and out into the hedged gardens.

Anthony followed at her side, his hand still holding hers. "I overheard."

"Captain Sanders is the same age as my father," she said softly.

"I know."

Y/N stopped abruptly, the reality of her situation hitting her. It stole what little breath she had left and the gardens began to spin in her vision. Everything became harder to focus on - as if she was being spun around and around and around.

"Y/N?" Anthony said, his tone urgent. He squeezed her hand, trying to get her attention. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

Y/N's breath was laboured, her chest rising and falling far faster than it should've been. She gripped Anthony's hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin.

"Corset," she gasped out, arching over, trying to breathe. "I can't breathe."

Her knees buckled, she could feel herself falling, she gripped onto Anthony's arms as he fell down with her. Her head hit the gravel path and the blackness overwhelmed her.

Anthony knelt beside her, his hand holding hers. His heart was pounding. "Y/N?" He gently shook her. Her head lolled to the side. Her chest wasn't moving and when he hovered his hand under her nose, no breath hit his hand.

He was trying to stay calm, to focus. But his heart was controlling him. Anthony shook her again and then, abruptly, harshly, remembered what she'd whispered.

Anthony pulled her limp body up and rested it against his chest. His fingers ran down her back, struggling to undo the buttons of her dress. One snapped off as he tried to undo and, in a moment of frustration, he ripped the buttons open.

He could see the red lines where her corset had pressed against her skin, even through the chemise underneath it. It didn't take him long to realise the corset was far too tight.

He'd seen countless corsets over the years and knew how they were meant to be done up and tied. This one was too tight, to constricting. No wonder she'd collapsed.

Anthony deftly undid the laces, pulling on them until the material of the corset came loose from Y/N's body. He laid her back down on the ground, making sure the ribbons of her cloak weren't tight around her throat.

He waited for a moment but she still wasn't breathing. Anthony shook himself and snapped back into action. He tilted Y/N's head back and gently opened her mouth. He leant over her and pressed his lips to hers, breathing into her mouth until he had no air left.

Anthony took a deep breath in and then pressed his mouth to hers again, blowing all the air he head into her.

"Come on, Y/N, please," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

There was a horrible moment where Anthony thought nothing had happened. That it hadn't worked. That, all the tales his tenants told him of men coming back to life after someone breathe for them, were false.

But then, Y/N started to cough, her hands flying up and gripping his arms tightly.

"It's okay, I've got you," Anthony whispered, pulling her up and into him, letting her lean against his chest. "I've got you, Y/N. I've got you."

Y/N slumped against him, closing her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. She let her hand trail down his arm until it reached his hand. Y/N threaded her fingers through his and squeezed tightly.

"You saved my life," Y/N whispered.

"You scared the hell out of me," Anthony whispered back. He leant his chin on the top of her head. "Why was your corset so tight?"

"Modiste insisted on it,"" Y/N replied, her words coming out a little clearer as her breath came back. "She kept pulling tighter and tighter."

"Ssh," Anthony whispered, sensing her panic brewing. "It's okay."

"It's not though," Y/N said softly. "Nothing's okay, Anthony. I'm to marry a man I barely know. I have no control over anything anymore."

They sat there, on the cold gravel path, clutching on to one another. Anthony pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N's head and she closed her eyes tightly, resting her head on his arm.

Snow began to fall around them. It danced gently down, light enough that it wasn't going to settle, but enough to tell that it was snowing.

Anthony helped Y/N to her feet. He turned her around and carefully did her corset back up, making sure the laces were comfortably tight. He then did the back of her dress back up the best he could, swearing every time he fumbled with a button.

Every time he did, Y/N laughed softly, her shoulders shaking.

Anthony turned Y/N back around to face her. He pulled the hood of her cloak up, letting his fingers trace the line of her jaw as he pulled away.

"You still have control," Anthony said quietly. "You can still chose."

"How?" Y/N asked, her voice almost lost to the dark night. "How can I chose?"

Anthony raised his hand, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. He held her chin in his hand. "Chose me."

He saw the surprise in her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he could see it.

"Anthony, you..."

"Have changed," Anthony said, cutting her off. "I apologise for making you wait so long, Y/N, darling. But I know, now, that it is you I want to spend the rest of my life with. No matter how long or short it is, I know the time we spend together will be worth the grief and pain that may come later."

Y/N looked at him. "Do you truly mean it?"

"Every word. With all my heart."

The snow began to fall faster, the flake getting bigger. Y/N smiled at him, her eyes lighting up for the first time all evening.

"You can kiss me again, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N whispered. "I'll be conscious this time, I promise. I'll remember this time."

Anthony chuckled. "You'd better, Miss Hughes."

Anthony leant forward and pressed his lips to hers. There was a moment of quiet bliss before the urgency, the desperation, the desire took them over.

They walked backwards, disappearing behind the hedges and into a smaller, secluded garden. Anthony pushed Y/N until the back of her legs hit a stone bench. He guided her backwards until she was lying down on the bench.

Y/N pulled away, pushing Anthony back slightly. She smiled up at him, her skin hot.

"Lord Bridgerton, are you so desperate to make me yours?" She asked, dragging her hand down his hair and then onto his neck. Anthony groaned softly, leaning his head back into touch. His hand brushed down her thigh, the sensation reaching her even through her dress. He reached under her dress and Y/N arched up into him as his fingers danced up her leg, to her inner thigh, pulling the chemise up and up and -

"I don't think I could wait a moment more," Anthony whispered, pausing. "As long as you -"

"Yes," Y/N replied, pulling him down onto her and pressing her lips to his again. "Just.. yes," she whispered against his lips.

Anthony's hand resumed it's dance, delving higher and then disappearing inside her. Y/N felt a noise she'd never made before escape her lips and she arched up into him, her hand gripping the back of his neck tightly.

"Our absence will be noticed soon," Y/N said, her words disappearing into a moan. Her nails dug into his neck as he pushed her dress up higher, his fingers dancing around before going deeper inside her.

Anthony smiled, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Don't worry. I'll be quick."

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fancfic

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nocasdatsgay · 9 months ago

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Neapolitan Bonds Master Post

Pairing: Eris/Azriel/Reader | Summaries, Ratings, and Warnings on Posts | Ao3 Series Here

Series Summary: The various adventures of Eris, Azriel, and you, starting with the mating bond snapping and onward. All can be read as a stand alone and in various orders. Actual Order below.

Then There Were Three

The night the bond snapped

Be Good

Azriel uses you to rile up Eris through the bond

Now, Behave

Azriel receives his punishment for the events in Be Good

First Winter Solstice

You convince Azriel and Eris to let you decorate for Winter Solistice as your first year as Lady of Autumn

Sharing is Caring

Azriel has a surprise for you after the ball in Hewn City. Guest Starring Rhysand and Feyre

Even High Lords Need a Break

You and Azriel force Eris to take a break

A Lession In Heart Break

The big fight and after math. Part 1 - The Night it feel apart Part 2- Words are Painful Weapons

#masterlist #Neapolitan Bonds #Neapolitan Bonds Masterpost #Eris/Azriel/Reader #I need to redo my fic post but this will have to work in the mean time

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boycannibal · 4 days ago

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SOLISTICE TODAY!!! GOODBYE CRUEL WINTER!!! YOUR GOVERNANCE OVER SUNSET IS NEARING ITS END !!! SOON IT WILL BE DARK AT A NON CONCERNING TIME !!! AND BIRDS WILL SING !!! AND PLANTS WILL SPROUT !!! VIVA SPRING VIVA LIFE !!!

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the-lonelybarricade · 2 months ago

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The Longest Night

A short glimpse into the lives of Rhysand and the Inner Circle on the Winter Solistice, 30 years into Rhys’s enslavement Under the Mountain.

For @officialfeysandweek Day 5: Fated

Inspired by one of my text posts from 2022

Word count: 1k

Read on AO3

It was the longest night of the year.

And, by any conventional standard, they had assembled the perfect Solstice dinner.

Someone had lovingly donned a woven table runner across the long dining table in the House of Wind. It's golden thread stood out starkly in the dim faelight, cutting across the dark blue fabric like streaks of lightning on a clear night. Cassian recognised the stitchwork. Its seamstress had threaded her needle through his own skin enough times, tenderly patching him up after long, brutal days in the Illyrian training camps.

His heart ached to stare at her handiwork for too long, so he averted his eyes elsewhere—to the pillars of candles, which rose among the countless platters of food, twining cinnamon and cypress with the scent of roasted meat and spices that was not overall unpleasant, just…

Unwelcome.

Not because Cassian minded the candles, or was ever one to turn away a hot meal. Particularly a spread as fine as the one before him, prepared by the best cooks in Velaris, who had dipped into the preserve of spices that were only saved for special occasions such as this.

No one could claim his discontent was the result of meager effort, or that this was a poor rendition of a Solstice Celebration.

He just couldn't summon any cheer as he snagged his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, watching the dark liquid swirl as he twisted it this way and that. It almost felt like mockery to drink wine, of all things.

Not that he would say such a thing to Mor, who was decanting the final drops of her glass into her mouth. They hadn't started dinner yet, but he couldn't blame her. Instead, Cassian wordlessly slid his glass across the table, wedging it between the fingers of Mor's rested hand, where it splayed nostalgically across the table runner.

When Mor offered him a small, grateful nod, he pushed to his feet. He needed something stronger, anyhow.

Who's idea was this, again?

As he began pouring himself a drink from the decanters at the sideboard, Cassian glanced over his shoulder. His friends were all seated at the dining table, staring mutely at their food or at their drinks. None of them were speaking.

It was a nice attempt, he thought, taking a large swallow and grunting at the heat that spread through him. He felt it burn down his chest and settle heavily in his gut—strong stuff, though he hadn't a clue what it was and didn't think anyone was in the mood to tell him.

Rhys would have known.

That thought slid in like a dagger. Lingered, as Cassian's eyes drifted unbidden to the head of the table.

A place had been set there. A knife and fork and freshly polished plate, waiting patiently beside a full glass of red wine.

But the chair was empty. Just as it had remained for the last 30 years. And no one would be coming to claim it.

For a moment, he considered dashing his drink against the prestine fucking floor and diving out the nearest window to escape this facade they were putting on, as if everything were normal. As if there was anything worth celebrating.

The only thing that subdued the impulse was the sight of Mor's trembling lip as she, too, slanted her gaze to the head of the table. And when that tremble split into a soft keening sound, it was Cassian's heart that shattered on the floor, not his drink.

"Sorry," Mor sniffed, darting her eyes to the faelight overhead as she dabbed at tears and smeared khol with the tips of her fingers. "I know we said no crying—"

"We never said that," Cassian said, sliding back into his seat.

Azriel cast an assessing eye over the admittedly generous pour Cassian was bracing in his fist, but Az reserved his commentary.

"I told myself no crying," Mor acquiesced with another sniff. "I thought 30 years would be enough time for it to not feel so… so…"

Raw, Cassian thought. Mor shrugged without concluding the thought and if anyone else mentally filled in the rest, they didn't volunteer it.

At least until they fell back into silence, and Azriel glanced towards the head of the table and rasped, "Empty."

Empty. Like Rhysand's seat, and his throne, and his bedroom.

Like the training ring in the mornings, when there was no buffer between Azriel's bouts of silence and the static in Cassian's head.

Like the bi-monthly meetings with the people of Velaris, where he watched Amren and Mor act as steward to their people's hardships and concerns, which grew more pressing each year.

Like the market squares in the city center, which were once flush with traders and merchants who were now blocked from entering or exiting the city, stranding them all in this crowded, isolated place.

Or like every aching moment over the last 30 years where Cassian glanced over his shoulder after making some smart comment, expecting to see the smug, if not exasperated, smile of his friend. His brother.

And finding nothing. A ghost of a memory, at most.

Yeah, empty was a good word for it.

It was the longest night of the year.

Not that Rhys would know. He spent it inside, between Amarantha's legs. Hardly given a moment to consider the time of year, or how his friends might be celebrating without him.

Amarantha told him, of course. She wanted him to know what she was taking away from him, even as he pretended that he didn't care. What interest did a Dark Lord have in petty little festivities?

Rhys didn't usually invite thoughts of his friends into Amarantha's bedroom—for his own sake, he tried to keep those parts of his life firmly compartmentalized.

But he did take a moment to send a plea to the stars he couldn't see: that his friends were okay, that they could forgive him, that they were happy.

And if the stars could offer leniency to a male who hadn't gazed upon them in years, if they had the capacity to perceive his actions with pity instead of scorn, then he saved a risidual wish for himself:

That this eternal Hell would end before he found a way to end it himself.

It was the longest night of year.

Unbeknownst to all of them, across Prythian, in the Mortal Realm, a human girl was born.

As if the stars had listened.

#if the formatting is fucked I’m sorry 😭#I’m doing all of this from my phone #shout out to Mr. LB for letting my hotspot his mobile data #feysandweek2024 #feysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #The Longest Night

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bitesize-astrology · 4 days ago

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Welcome to Capricorn!

Saturday - December 21, 2024

Capricorn is the sign of structure, organization, self-discipline, self-responsibility, and of getting things done. On this particular day, as we welcome the Winter Solstice (Summer Solstice in the southern hemisphere), and a period of time my Elders call "The Black Lodge," we have an astrological alignment that adds significance to the Capricorn, Solistice and Black Lodge energies.

Capricorn is the sign of self-leadership, of motivating yourself for the goal of being your most efficient, your most spectacular. Capricorn recognizes this as "structural" or "foundational" to who you are; that without this self-leadership your efforts fall short, and rarely satisfy.

Today the Sun at 0° Capricorn shares energy with Pluto at 0° Aquarius. Zero, a degree that protects, creates boundaries and holds space. But Zero is also the number of potential, the manifest and unmanifest, and considered the one number that symbolizes the human experience. Elders who understand this sacred number, and who lead their people with this knowledge, in my tradition are called "Zero Chiefs."

Put all of this together and this is a day that asks you to lean deeply into your self-knowing, and into your self-authority. To cease giving power and influence to others. And to live being more purposeful and deliberate.

Pretty powerful stuff wouldn't ya' say? And so are YOU!

#astrology #bite size astrology #sun in capricorn #pluto in aquarius #winter solstice

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pummedraws · 3 days ago

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Merry Christmas - and happy Winter Solistice! 😁 (Christmas is still a couple of days away but… well, anyways…)

"Y'know, you're hard to buy for, Logan…" Best gift to get him surely is Owen himself, and Logan agrees enthusiastically so. ♥

Full version can be found >>> here. <<<

#MTAS #My Time At Sandrock #Lowen #MTAS Owen #MTAS Logan #My Time At Sandrock art #MTAS fanart #DEFINITELY NOT SAFE FOR WORK #JUST SO YOU KNOW #PummeArt #They are deeply in love that's why they are spicy #and that's a fact for everything I create regarding them ♥

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emayuku · 4 days ago

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Van Hohenheim — This Time Of Year

Christmas, even to those who despise it, is a singularly meaningful holiday. It’s deeply embedded in the psychological makeup of society, and everyone has a relationship to it, good or bad. For some, it’s a time of uncomfortable meetings, a reminder of traumatic memories rather left forgotten. For others, the little whisps of nostalgic memory are intensely therapeutic, happy reminicences triggering feelings of hope and new light in the darkest of seasons. For some, the darkness coincides with seasonal depression, and the supposedly merry Christmas surrounding becomes tough to bear; for others, the Christmas period is a time to take a pause, wind down and reflect on the year gone by, all its ups and downs. The symbols of birth and rebirth, dark winter solistice and a star of hope, past and future, are all heavy in the holiday.

Remarkably, Van Hohenheim’s This Time Of Year is a truly unique concept album that covers all of these topics, and more. It’s an album that really gets deep into the psychological impact of Christmas, its joys and sorrows, with stiking thematic subtlety and an upbeat, ultimately hopeful literary verve. Its ten songs, all newly written by the same songwriting team, strike a rare balance between playful accessibility and nuanced complexity in dealing with all these mixed emotions, augmented by Jackie Lynn Evans’s erudite, jazzy arrangments.

And then there’s Van Hohenheim himself. The sublime, knowing contrast of his blonde boyish image (still there at 15) and his smoldering, smoky contralto vocals is perfectly suited to the childish glee and grown-up self-analysis that permeates this album. He makes every song sound like it should be a merry Christmas classic, making you almost forget the literary intricacy within. Light and dark, he is truly Christmas, with all the meaningful things that can possibly be.

Track listing

"Christmas Heart" – 2:57

"Ring a Merry Bell" – 3:05

"Hang Them on the Tree" – 2:21

"The Little Star" – 3:08

"The Merriest" – 2:09

"This Time of Year" – 3:34

"Seven Shades of Snow" – 3:32

"Sorry to See You Go" – 2:24

"The Magic Gift" – 3:26

"Winter's Got Spring Up Its Sleeve" – 2:36

All compositions by Fay and Grisha Jaeger.

��🎶~Christmas Heart~🎶 🎄

❤️Sung by Aaron Dismuke❤️

For Christmas I would like to give A friend to every lonely heart A peaceful country stream To folks afraid to dream That would be a start

For Christmas I would like to share The hope that comes when life is rough That special kick you get Turning tears to smiles, and yet That wouldn't be enough

To little people I would offer Gold doubloons in a pirate coffer Furry friends to share their sleep And a prayer for love, their dream to keep

For Christmas I would like to send My thanks to lovers everywhere And music soft and clear For all who choose to hear Any little part Of a song that comes from a really Christmas heart

🇨🇽💕~CLICK HERE~💕🇨🇽

@fullmemetalalchemist

@fullmetal-weaboo-trash

@hohenheimoflight-blog1

@hohenheimoflight-blog

@str4ngeasangels

@fullmetal-headcanon

@charlottecors

@nostromoboy

@silverynightart

@noisylovepatrol

@nothingtoseehere1-2-3