Send ⭐️ for a headcanon of our muses - Closed

Endlessdrifter characters - Soft and cute edits

Max - Ray Milo - Chris - Leon Corey - Aaron - Olver

Made with this generator: https://picrew.me/image_maker/257476

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.     a chill right down to the bones. tobogganing. teeth chattering. sleeping all day. sitting by the fireplace. spending time with family. layered clothing. seeing another’s breath. loving the cold. a state of inactivity. cold hands. blistering winds shaking the closed windows. a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them. cable knit socks. a bitter remark. a log cabin in the middle of nowhere. hating the cold. full length windows to peer out of. pale skin. deep conversations. watching the snow fall. sharp edges. hot cocoa. smelling every candle in the store. a wild snow storm. melancholy. lighting candles around the bathtub. snow globes. expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words. the softest of blankets. liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.     the smell after it rains. being in control of yourself. a soft breeze blowing your hair. lightning when it strikes. cherry blossoms. bright mornings. the first sign of hope. the relief of finding something you lost.  paris in the spring.  birds chirping. the art of growing. a kiss on the cheek. the clap of thunder. a tornado in the valley. smiling at a stranger. planning. saccharine pinks. making promises. trying something new. hugs when you need them most. a bee sting. sitting on the steps of the met. coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm. picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun. that feeling you get when you put on a good dress. a long hike. rushing when you can take your time. going to the gym, training at ungodly hours. excitement for what’s coming. becoming yourself. rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.     lanterns lit around a campfire. seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again. melting ice cream. the warmth of sun rays upon skin. fireworks. the feeling of never wanting something to end.  beach days. the lone blow up floaty left in the pool, drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else. music blasting at 3AM, loud and proud. palms trees on sunset boulevard. longer days and shorter nights. wanderlust. nights spent staring at the stars. sand castles. road trips. blood orange sunsets. leaving the laundry to hang outside. flowers in bloom. sneaking out of your room late at night. pure contentment. barefoot in the sand. the street lights coming on. the sound of the ocean in a seashell. freshly squeezed lemonade. loose clothing. a cannonball into the pool. sunflowers. the hazy pink before dusk.relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.    the leaves changing colors. a heavy backpack. the smell of old books. eating until you’re stuffed. deep, dark woods. the silence in loudness ( the loudness in silence ). abandoned houses. ripped jeans. crunching leaves beneath feet. feeling like you’ve been somewhere before. sitting at a bay window. having endless amount of work. charcoal drawings. screaming into a pillow as loud as you can. pumpkin patches. creaky floorboards. accepting that some things do have to change. museums. small talk. being ignored. procrastinating. a door slamming shut. going to bed early. baking pies. the fear of walking alone in the dark. feeling completely and terribly lost. a twig snapping. crisp, cool days. belly laughter after crying. converse. foggy mornings at the shoreline. writing a daily entry in a journal. a lonely day.

For Aaron, absolutely. He’s such a complex and hard to get character that I’ve never had a partner who has really broken through all the walls to make a proper, full fledged ship with him... And the sad part is that out of my muses he is the one who needs it the most.

Listen here. I’m just gonna go ahead and ignore the fact that kisses don’t have particular taste and get poetic here so bear with me.

Kissing Max tastes like that one ray of sunlight at noon during a really rainy day. You know it might keep pouring, but for a moment there’s this glimmer of warmth, the promise that the sun may come out tomorrow.

Kissing Ray is like having a green apple to satiate your hunger. It’s delicious and tasty and it might fool you for a bit, but it will also make the hunger come back twice as strong, making you want so much more.

Kissing Milo’s like having a cake all for yourself. It’s sweet and inviting and you don’t have to share it. You can take your time, you can devour it quickly. It comes with the knowledge that however you eat it is up to you.

Kissing Chris is like a strong gust of wind in the middle of autumn. It’s strong and fast and it messes up your hair and your looks, going away in an instant and making you feel like something was taken from you. And yet, also making you feel alive.

Killing Oliver tastes like a juicy, sweet slice of watermelon in the middle of a summer day out playing with your friends under the burning sun when you were 10 years old.

Kissing Leon tastes like breaking and entering into an abandoned place. You know you shouldn’t, you know it’s a terrible idea, but there’s a special kind of thrill to it you just can’t quite shake, and you have to see it through.

moss-eaten robot (i.e. the workaholic whose body has had enough)

the robot is dead? the robot is living. or a zombie, a botanical garden, an ecosystem, or a ghost of one. children watch you and wait for you to blink, mesmerized by how human you could look if you did. you are a shell, no lungs or organs to speak of, but the plants have found you and thought: we want to entwine in your wires like veins and give you oxygen. we want to turn your face to the sun with our leaves and help you feel the warmth of its rays. we want to water your rusted plates and bring you to the god of Pan as our greatest offering. sometimes, you want to get up, feel the gears whir and turn, and blink. but you are at peace, and you are understood, and so you rest. the time will come for your aching body to move, and you will know when that time is, but right now: you are not a machine. your metal and copper was made of the earth. so listen to the moss--and slumber.

tagged: @lowerqualityrp​