snow shapes


a/n: I don’t really know where this came from, and I might continue it as a mini series… idk, but i enjoyed writing it. let me know what you think :)

Red was always her colour, she’d look perfect; untouchable even, whenever she wore it. Her pale complexion shimmered against the crimson tone, a perfect combination like the Tudor Rose. And like a rose, your touch would get caught on the tip of her thorns. She may have looked like Snow White; ruby heart shaped lips and rosy cheeks. But deep inside her core, lingered poison just like the scarlet apple.

As soon as she stepped into the shower, the glass fogged up and within seconds she slammed her hand against the glass; leaving her mark. Her face slowly appeared through the fog, her hair already a tangled wet mess. “Shawn, come in,” she mouthed, her lips looking plump in contrast to her peaked face. I removed my clothing and stepped into the shower. I suddenly felt like we were safe, we were hidden and no one would ever be able to trace us.

Her frail, sallow figure stood under the water; allowing itself to be cleansed. I stepped closer and her breath hitched when I placed my hands on her cheeks. “No one must ever know,” I said, searching her lost eyes. She bit down on her lip and nodded.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stepped back and stared at the imprint my hands had left on her cheeks. My bloodied handprints.

Red was always her colour, any shade would suit her; even the colour of blood. I leaned my back against the glass and watched as the thick blood would start to tear itself from her skin. Her hands smudged the blood on her cheeks, making it trail down her neck and onto her chest. Once the stains were no longer prominent; her hands reached for mine and she pulled me closer to her, under the falling water. I closed my eyes as I felt the evidence from hours before leave my skin. A smile appeared when I felt her fingertips trickle down the centre of my back, finally letting me feel at ease. I watched her, letting the water fall over my eyes, as she dragged her hands through her hair. She seemed unfazed by what had happened that morning, as if she had forgotten it already.

But at the daunting sound of a knock on the door, as her neck snapped in the direction of the bathroom window. I witnessed it all come back, I noticed her eyes turn dark and her jaw clench tight. She was back to looking like the woman who had just realised what they’d done, seconds after it was too late. Even though she was covered in blood, and looking scared for her life; she had never looked so beautiful. A Rose in full bloom is a beautiful sight to behold; but it also means the thorns are at their full length and will do anything to tear whatever gets in their way.

some magical things

- seeing your breath in the air on cold winter mornings
- falling in love with someone 
- being so lost in a book or movie that you become disorientated when you finish
- dreaming about being in love and then waking up and being in love 
- gardens where all the trees and bushes are trimmed into shapes
- snow covered forests and woodland animals
- rose gardens in the spring
- the entire existence of dogs
- when a song evokes strong emotions it makes you cry 
- when someone is gentle and kind without any bad intentions
- making a sad friend smile again
- the stars and the moon on a clear night 


the door shuts behind simon, and baz looks up from his textbooks, sneer already plastered on his face.

“how was your little session with the mage?” his voice is taunting, mesmerising, almost haunting. like a siren’s song. simon watches the shadows shift over baz’s face and can almost believe baz means him no harm.

“fuck off.” it’s tired.

simon turns his back to baz. he doesn’t see baz frown. this isn’t the simon he’s used to at all.

baz’s voice floats across the room to him. “aw, what’s wrong? does the mage not like widdle simon anymore?”

simon’s shirt makes a soft rustling noise as he gingerly peels it off his body. he instinctively holds his left hand over the giant bruise on his stomach, prays baz doesn’t see it.

“or maybe,” baz continues tauntingly, “the mage finally realises how idiotic this whole thing is and he’s called it off? aleister crowley, i hope so.”

he thinks baz’s voice sounds like music, the sharp noise bouncing off the silence of the night. a breeze blows through the window, and he shivers.

simon pulls off his socks and leaves them on the floor. baz lets out a disgusted sound, but simon really, really doesn’t have the strength to care right now. he climbs into bed, pulling the covers over him.

baz sighs loudly. “i can’t believe i’ve put up with six years as roommates with this prat.”

“baz.” simon’s voice is soft. monotone. nothing like a siren’s song at all. “shut up.”

baz does.

We couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her defenseless again, so we left her our swords to protect her

Snow white in her casket - @princekaisuncannyhotness I remember learning once that in the original version of snow white she had seven knights rather than dwarves. I don’t know how that original story went, but I liked the idea of the knights giving up something they love so dearly as a kind of penance or something like that. I’m sure that snow ensured the swords were returned to them when she eventually awakened. 

This is actually the happiest I’ve been with a drawing for like a week now. I’ve been feeling like I’ve been falling short for the last few sketches and it’s nice to feel good about one even while acknowledging the mistakes made

building a family

summary: snow isn’t always the best medium. sometimes it is.
prompt: snowmen
also read on: ao3 // ffn

words by: @ahumanintraining // art by: @cheer-chan

Making a snowcat was harder than Jellal thought it would be.

After more than forty minutes of making four perfectly shaped and sized cylinders for legs that were probably too thick for a snow sculpture cat (especially in representing their cat, Scrubs), Jellal attempted to balance a long oval-shaped snow chunk onto the four legs to create some sort of a body. He squatted, slowly and steadily transferring the weight from the snowcat’s body to its legs.

Finally, once he felt ready to let gravity determine fate, he let go, standing up and backing his hands away from the entire structure.

And by some sheer miracle, the entire thing stayed.

Keep reading

Snow Landscape with Skull Shapes, left sheet of the triptych Taira Kiyomori Haunted by Strange Sights (Taira Kiyomori kaii o miru zu)

Edo period
about 1844–45 (Kôka 1–2)
Artist Utagawa Hiroshige I (Japanese, 1797–1858)

MFA Boston

anonymous asked:

Hey I have lost this songfic that goes as Yuri is an immortal and yurio is a snow leopard shape shifter and victor is a traveller and he is also immortal .... Ughh I dont know how to explain this but im dying to search this am not able to find it can you please just help me


It’s Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare by exile_wrath and you can read it here!


holy crap


never forget caitlin snow went to sky high