#I grew up in a very active area. Lots of weird lights in the skies

[pointycorgiears]

Crocodile was on the outer balcony, watching the dark waves. It was a moonless night and thousands of stars littered the sky. He gave a puff of his cigar and gazed out on the horizon. Shark Rock, a tiny island off the coast of Karai Bari, was a black silhouette against the starlight. It was given that name because of the tall dolomite that jutted out the middle, resembling a shark's dorsal fin. There was a scout ship milling about it.

It was quiet. Just the soft tumbling of the breakers and Mihawk's shuffling books around the shelves inside to keep him company. Buggy was already passed out somewhere. No Marines, no rival pirate crews, no activity whatsoever. It was peaceful.

He took one more drag of his cigar. As he turned to go inside, something caught his eye.

He looked at Shark Rock. The orange lights of the scout ship seemed higher than they should be. He blinked to clear his eyes, thinking it was a trick of the darkness. But no...the lights hovered above the water...all three of them.

"Huh..."

He watched them for a moment, squinting to focus. Maybe a rogue wave had lifted the boat upwards? That idea was shot down as soon as the lights rose higher....and higher, far past the shoreline of the rock. And they kept going.

And then they moved.

They changed their position, spinning around each other while simultaneously rising, until they were at the tip of the shark fin. The arranged themselves, by some force of their own, into a triangle pattern, hovering over the rock.

"Mihawk..." Crocodile quietly called out to his partner. The other didn't hear him. And he was too transfixed to look to see what the swordsman was doing.

The lights grew brighter.

"Mihawk..."

The lights became so bright that they began illuminating the rock...and then they illuminated something else. Something metallic-like, nestled in between them as if they were attached to it. Triangular, silver, and solid. A light shot from the middle of the thing directly onto the shark fin. As bright as a pillar of light from God himself.

"Mihawk!" His voice was now strained, and he didn't know why. The air on his arms stood up. His hand trembled his cigar. And he didn't know why.

"Yes?" Mihawk answered from inside and began walking to the balcony.

The lights pulsed, flashed, and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Shark Rock was dark again.

Mihawk finally appeared on the balcony. "What is it, Crocodile?"

Crocodile tried to find his words and choked. "Uh...nothing. I just...I thought I saw something."

****

[[About a week later...]]

The beach was nice and moonlit. The palm trees swayed overhead, their fronds dark and gentle in the wind. Crocodile liked to smoke on nights like this. The moon cast a caressing glow over the whole island and it soothed away the hectic moments of the day.

He walked to the edge of the trees, looking across the beach to the water. The waves rolled calm and easy. He took one final drag and blew the smoke through his nose. He bent down to crush the embers of the cigar in the sand. Some flitted along the ground and burnt out. One caught the breeze and flew up past his eye before simmering into nothing. Crocodile turned away to head back through the trees.

The little ember appeared in the corner of his vision. He tilted his head to make sure it went out.

Then froze.

Oh no.

Three lights glowed an eerie orange further down the beach. His gaze was stuck. He could not look away from the three orbs hovering several feet above the sand, casting their luminance on the beach. He paused and waited in the trees.

What are these things? he thought. He never expected to see anything like this again. He stared at them from his hiding spot in the treeline. They could be a threat to Cross Guild. As he observed, he noticed a black shape between the lights, connecting them together into one form just like the first time he saw them. It was slender and narrow. It looked like a cake platter and cover. The lights glowed on the underside, arranged in a triangular pattern. He was fixated on it.

Then the beam shot down from its belly, just like it had on Shark Rock, only this time it hit the sand a few feet below it. Crocodile narrowed his eyes. Something moved behind the light pillar. He blinked again, and there was a humanoid form with long arms and legs. It looked…off. Like parts of it were transparent or made of a mirror.

Crocodile froze. Every hair on his body became alert. It felt like the wind was knocked out of him and he almost gasped for air. Instead he made a quiet inhale of breath in fear of drawing the thing's attention.

The fear.

Crocodile was a veteran as far as battles were concerned. He faced Marines, pirates, Whitebeard, all head on. He was never afraid. He could not be shaken. The thing moved its glittering head.

He was afraid. And he didn't know where the fear was coming from.

He was thankful he was in the dark shadows of the trees. The head moved again, turning, and two black, soulless eyes were suddenly looking in his direction. Crocodile instinctively dropped into a pile of sand next to the tree stumps. He dared not move a single grain on the ground.

The thing turned away. One of its long arms reached down to where the water curled on the beach and scooped some of it up into some kind of vial. Then it shimmered and dissipated into the light beam. The light disappeared, and the orange orbs and black mass began floating out toward the ocean, slowly, and was eventually far enough out to sea that the lights could have been ordinary stars on the horizon. They vanished into the night.

Crocodile crawled as a sand pile all the way back to his tent.

****

Dinner was quiet. Crocodile did his best to keep his fork from rattling in his hand and his hook from carving holes in the table. Mihawk asked him what's wrong. Crocodile couldn't answer. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Buggy was staring at him to. He drank a little bit more than usual that night. Buggy bumped into him in the hall as they prepared for bed.

"You ok?" he asked. There was something in the clown's eyes. Crocodile nodded.

"Did you see the lights too?" Buggy asked, deadpan.

Crocodile stuttered and his voice cracked. "W-What?"

****

Mihawk had forgotten the book he was reading in the common room of the main tent. He went down the hall that connected the living tents to the main tent, walking brisk and silent with barefeet. He trotted up the stairs intending to retrieve it and go back to bed, but he found something unexpected that made him take pause.

Crocodile and Buggy were still there, talking excitedly about something on the sofa. He peeked from the top steps. They were dressed in their night clothes and Mihawk wondered what was so important that it was stalling them from going to their quarters to sleep. He walked up the last steps. "Why are you two still here?"

"AAAAAHHHHAAIIIIEEEEHHH!"

Mihawk was taken aback. Both Buggy and Crocodile had just screamed, at him.

Buggy's eyes were wide as he was pressed against Crocodile's chest, a knife gripped his hand pointed at Mihwk. Crocodile's hook was also raised in his direction in a defensive stance.

Mihawk lifted a brow. "Are you in distress?"

"We can't go to sleep!" Buggy exclaimed."

And why is that?"

"Because they'll come for us!"

"Who, exactly?"

"The Star People!" Buggy exclaimed and Crocodile silently nodded. His eyes were bloodshot.

Mihawk was now concerned. "What are you idiots talking about?"

****

Mihawk never should have asked. He never should have indulged them. Because then, maybe he could be sleeping snug and comfortable in his room right now. Instead, he had to hear a mad rant from Buggy about the "Star People" and how they were flying around at night in invisible vessels, and they got into people's heads to hear their thoughts, and how Gol D. Roger had seen them once, and how Roger had told Buggy to beware of them, and how they somehow lived among the stars, and...

Mihawk didn't really remember the rest. He stopped listening after awhile. All he knew was that Buggy, and somehow Crocodile, had convinced him that they were suddenly incapable of sleeping tonight because they needed to be on guard and they wanted Mihawk to stay with them in the common room all night. Because he was the most powerful, they reasoned. He could protect them.

While it was flattering that his crewmates thought so highly of him, he had a slight issue when it meant he was going to be protecting them from ghosts and fairytales like a couple of scared children.

Actually, Buggy and Crocodile were terrified. Of what exactly, Mihawk did not know. Crocodile was not easy to scare, so it had to have been something serious. All he knew was that both of them saw something to put them in this state, and it was his duty as the only currently sound mind of the leadership to care for them and be on guard. Cross Guild couldn't afford to be vulnerable. If that meant sleeping in the common room with them, then so be it.

So here he was, bringing some blankets and pillows from his quarters for himself to sleep on. He reached the top of the stairs and walked in the room. Buggy was in a reclining chair with a blanket over him and a very large lion plush toy caught in his death grip. Crocodile was laid out on the sofa, draped by blankets and his coat. Both of them seemed to be settling down at least, finally.

Buggy caught sight of him from the chair. "Did you bring Yoru?"

Mihawk raised the sword with his hand, making sure the blade was displayed sharp and intimidating in the low light.

"Good," Mihawk heard Crocodile mumble from under his coat.

Mihawk sighed. He set his blankets and pillows on the floor between the sofa and chair, arranging them so he would be comfortable. As he began to lay down, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mihawk stood, taking Yoru with him to the landing.

Daz Bones met him there in the dark. He looked at Mihawk curiously. "I was doing a security check. I thought some children had snuck in here. It sounded like little girls screaming."

Mihawk sighed. "Do not worry. I will handle any children that need attending to."

Buggy yelled from his chair to see what was going on and if they should put the foil on their heads and start running. Luckily, Daz caught on to Mihawk's exasperation.

"I see. Goodnight, Sir."

Daz left and Mihawk returned to his luxurious bed on the floor. He laid down, Yoru dutifully lying next to him within arm's reach. Just in case there were any...intruders, or something.

🛸🛸🛸

#Long post #short story #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy the clown #daz bones #one piece #This just kinda happened. Instead of working on my other fic I wrote this lol #The first part is based on my dad's ufo sighting #I grew up in a very active area. Lots of weird lights in the skies #I just wanted to torment Croc a little bit #Yes I know there are Space Pirates. But this not about them. Spooky.

[nelllraiser]

your ass is grass | deirdre & nell

TIMING: after deirdre’s fateful call with regan’s dad. (yes, this is old) PARTIES: @deathduty and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: regan is grass. nell still hates mimes. deirdre isn’t a rotten egg. penises. 

HellaHairFlip Today at 12:40 AM: do u have anything to add walmart dentist Today at 12:41 AM: add that i love u :/

A lot of things were going wrong for Deirdre, she was happy at least at sneaking into a nearby recreation center was not one. “Move your feet, Penelope. We’ve got something very important to steal.” The door clinked open and the banshee pushed it open, waiting for the human to follow her in. She adjusted the mask on her face, an unnecessary precaution, probably, but she might have taken any excuse to wear a mime mask. They were truly terrifying. “We can’t commit theft if that’s how slow you’re going to move. Don’t witches have more self-respect than this?” The cold night air drifted in behind her, a perfect day for a little criminal activity. Penelope wasn’t her first choice in companions, but she’d need the witch for the spell once they were done here. So it was convenient, more than anything. 

Of all the things to steal, Nell was rather...surprised that it was only fake grass that was needed as an ingredient for breaking a fae promise. “I’m moving fine!” she hissed back, feeling rather dramatic in her all black outfit along with the ski mask over her eyes. “And did you have to wear a mime mask of all things? Cursed creatures. Snobby know-it-alls. They probably think you’re emulating them.” Nevertheless, she thought it’d be rather fun to commit a little bit of theft, even if it was only grass. Besides, if she got brought home by cops— it wouldn’t be the first time. “So why do we need grass anyway?” she asked as they closed in on their target.

“Why aren’t you wearing the mime mask I bought you?” Deirdre hissed, though her anger deflated a moment later. If someone saw them, it’d be the mime and the bargain bin bank robber, and she’d kill to see that headline somewhere. “We can’t be a team like this.” She knew Penelope couldn’t see the smirk on her face, but she hoped the child could feel it. “This was the only mask left in the store,” she groaned, leading the witch through the halls until they reached one of the fields. Glorious, beautiful turf shone back at her through the small window in the double doors. Deirdre pushed on the handle and unsurprisingly found it clunk back at her with the telltale signs of being, equally unsurprisingly, locked. “I told you on the way here: we need the grass for the spell. It takes two parts, fae components and then something representative of the spell. My darling Regan is the grass, or the not-grass, but her father thinks of her like grass.” She looked up at the mechanism that held the door in place and turned back to the witch, gesturing up at it. “Can you do anything about that? I don’t suppose you know any convenient door opening spells, do you?”

 “Because mimes are the literal scourge of the Earth!” Nell’s voice was full with the passion of a thousand suns on that matter. “I’d rather die than impersonate a mime.” Damn. She would have liked to be a team, though. Nell hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe if you’d gotten anything else but the mimes- we could have been the super cool theft tag team. I feel like we could have even just made homemade masks. A fun bonding activity, don’t you think?” She was only half-joking. It’d probably be amusing to see what sort of mask Deirdre might fashion. “Yeah, yeah, but why is Regan grass? None of your analogies make sense.” Nevertheless, she gave a bit of a smug smile as Deirdre requested her services. With a simple few words, and the passing of her hand over the mechanism, the door was ready to go. “Now who’s lacking self-respect?” The retort didn’t make any sense, sure. But it made her feel a little better.

“You really...hate mimes.” Deirdre blinked, simply listening to the child. She hadn’t expected it to be such a hot-button issue, but she also hadn’t expected to be stealing grass in the middle of the night with someone who was, effectively, a child. “I don’t do crafts, I make people do crafts for me and then I throw them out,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as though it were the most obvious of fact---that she would never degrade herself doing anything lowly. “Regan isn’t the grass, her dad wants her to be grass: easily maintained, something to look at. He only cares enough to keep his lawn looking the way he wants it, no matter what that means. Regan isn’t grass, she’s better than---oh, forget it. Why am I even explaining this to you?” But her explanation served as filler between Penelope’s spell and the door clicking open. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to say, Penelope,” Deirdre smiled, pushing open the door and pausing at the threshold between the field and the hall. Then she turned, her smile twisting with mischief, “last one in is a rotten egg.” And being right at the door, Deirdre took the first step on to the fake grass and was, unceremoniously, not the rotten egg. “You humans have some delightful phrases, although I hope this doesn’t mean I just turned you into an egg.” She paused, “the last one in is not a rotten egg.” She turned back, pulling a knife from her back and gesturing around. “Do you want to do anything else or shall I get started on the grass.”

“They’re my biggest and most mortal enemy on this Earth,” Nell finished succinctly before thinking to continue on with. “Though often I doubt if they’re actually mortal. Especially that weird one that walks on all fours.” Nevertheless, her disdain for the mimes dissipated as she traded it for amusement. “Crafts can be fun.” Nell wasn’t entirely sure if she’d entirely caught the whole ‘grass’ analogy, but she was fairly certain she at least understood it well enough to be able to replicate the spell Deirdre was teaching her...if she ever needed to. Surely being able to do away with fae promises was something that would come in handy one day. “No fair! I wasn’t warned! You’re supposed to count down from three or something.” She was, quite understandably, quite miffed at having found herself the rotten egg, though she was quickly placated by Deirdre’s rectification of the situation. “Oh- that’s much better. Thank you. I could feel my yolk forming as we spoke.” Nell scanned the surrounding area, as if someone was waiting to jump out and yell, ‘Gotcha!’. Though could they actually be arrested for taking fake grass? “No, no, please proceed with your grazing. I’ll be here.” She squinted at the knife. “You know you could probably just pull the fake grass up...right?”

“Oh! You’ve seen that thing too?” Deirdre knew they were getting off-topic, but what was a chat about mimes while they stole fake grass? “I was with someone who cut its head off and the cursed thing just grew right back! Such a shame, really. I would have loved to pick through the bones that thing must leave…” she paused, gazing off, lost in the fantast in her head. “If any,” Deirdre murmured finally, shaking her head and moving along. “I think you’d look like Humpty Dumpty if you were an egg. You know, with the eyes and the mouth and the small little legs dangling over your brick wall.” Deirdre bent down, stabbing her knife into the grass and digging out a clean square for them to take. “This is more fun,” she glanced up, working through her patch of grass, “you’re not terrible for a human, Penelope. Certainly more fun than some---”

“Hey!” A voice boomed through the walls, and the jangling of keys followed. “Is anybody in there?” The double doors on the other side clanked open, and an old man dressed in security blues hobbled in. “You whippersnappers better not be painting any more penises here!”

In a moment, Nell put two and two together, her brow furrowing together a bit. “Wait, are you talking about Shiloh? She was telling me she cut it’s head off!” She’d been a bit jealous that she hadn’t been there to witness that, or have the honor of cutting it off— even if it wasn’t it’s real head. “But true...it’d probably be some pretty weird bones.” Her nose wrinkled, immediately rejecting Deirdre’s egg classification of her. “Ew, no. I couldn’t be. I don’t fall off of walls. I’m gonna be like a...dragon egg. You can be a chicken egg,” she joked with a little shrug. But she nodded sagely at the other woman’s claim, knowing firsthand that it truly was more fun to cut things with a knife. “Aww, Deirdre. Careful now. I’ll start thinking you like me or-” But her head snapped towards the voice that had yelled out, and she took in the sight of the night guard. “Do you have enough grass yet??” she asked in a hurried tone, not really wanting to be taken home in the back of a cop car or something. “Damn- we should have drawn some penises, though,” she finished under her breath.

“You know Shiloh too?” Deirdre, astonished again, blinked. It really was a small town. “Is Humpty Dumpty not a beloved story, Penelope?” She teased, making quick work of the turf below and slinging it over her shoulder once a sizable enough square has been cut. “I do like you, human. I say this now because you’ve suggested phallic defacement and of that, I am always a fan.”  The guard finally snapped his flashlight to life and cast its orange-tinted light over to the two trespassers.

“Oi! You two there better not be drawin’ any penises or else I’m--” he paused, squitining. Then he took a cautious step forward. “Are you….are you two stealin’ grass?”

Deirdre snapped up, down with her thievery but not so done with her mischief. She turned to Penelope and gave a wide smirk, then turned back. “It was her!” And with no remorse, she pointed at the younger girl and dashed from the field with her fake-grass. She spared one singular glance backwards, seeing the security guard waving his light around and giving a very slow chase. He was too shocked to speak into his transerver to report the crime, but not shocked enough to trip over as he attempted to give chase. He hollered behind them, “a mime and a ski-enthusiast are stealing grass! A mime and a ski-enthusiast! My wife said it could never happen! I knew I was right to worry!”

‘Bitch!” Nell called after Deirdre, though it was colored with some amusement. “You’ll never catch us alive!” She yelled dramatically before hauling ass after Deirdre, rather quick on her feet. But then the other woman’s words about phallic drawings as well as the security guard’s were running through her head. And truly...she couldn’t resist. In a moment she was waving a hand over the grass, and a giant, stark white penis was glowing up from the greenery. Who cared if she used a little magic while her identity was hidden? As the man’s voice continued to yell after them, her joyful laugh flitted through the air, all too pleased with her art as her and Deirdre made their grand escape. 

#chatzy #your ass is grass #ch:deirdre #wickedswriting

[urbanteeth]

Novel Prep

Thanks to @dimawriting and @maple-writes for tagging me!!

WIP: The Inbetween

Tagging: @drist-n-dither @theforgottencoolkid @minny-santa and uhh anyone else who sees this!

This gets pretty long so I’ll put it under a read more.

First Look

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

The crew members abroad the Perseus Space Station were tasked with investigating the first signs of early human-like civilization on an exoplanet. The truth behind the ruins scattered across the dying planet, however, is stranger, darker, older than anything they ever expected. 

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

As of right now, The Inbetween is a single book divided into 5ish parts. The POV will be third person. Still not sure if I want to switch between characters for each chapter or if I want each of the 5 parts told through the perspective of one of the main characters. I am playing with the idea of a sequel. I also want to write about the before and after the events of The Inbetween. There are also at least two AUs running around my mind so I might explore those too.

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Dark skies full of stars, floating weightlessly, lonely planets, geometry, singularity, the smallness of existence, amorphous shadows on the wall, empty corridors, static, flickering lights, hearts racing from adrenaline, the taste of blood in your mouth as you run for your life

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

The Inbetween originated from me wanting to take some of my unused characters beyond them just being characters. The earliest drafts of The Inbetween were short stories inspired by Wolfgun’s music. The story eventually grew into what it is now thanks to a few episodes of Star Trek and Welcome to Nightvale. Lots of the scenes I currently have written were born from daydreaming to Carbon Based Lifeforms’s music. I would say CBL has had the biggest influence on the story.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

This one is for the last part of the book.

Main Character

6. Who is your protagonist?

There are five protagonists:

Emmett Reyes: Mexican-American, 19 (at the beginning of the story), aro/ace, trans, biologist

Johann Herschel: British-German, 20 (at the beginning of the story), bi, nonbinary, pilot and navigator

Neveen Jalal: Egyptian-American, 19 (at the beginning of the story), lesbian, chemist, starship medic, lowkey inspired by my high school chem teacher

Oliver West: Korean-Canadian, 20 (at the beginning of the story), gay, mechanic

Alternis: A.I., years active unknown, primarily used for security and scouting 

7. Who is their closest ally?

Their closest allies would be each other. Here’s some specific friendships:

Overall: they grow as close as family. Nothing like a near death experience out in the middle of the cold, indifferent void to make five kids bond for life. 

Neveen + Emmett: Nerd friends! With him being a biologist and her becoming a medic, they share a love for the subject. They bond over their love for their cultures. They teach each other words in their native tongues. 

 Johann + Emmett + Oliver: Partners in crime!! These three are as ride or die as you can get with a group of friends. While Johann isn’t always keen on the chaos, he still goes along with it because “who’s going to serve as your guys’s impulse control???” Secretly, he loves it. 

Oliver + Johann: Oliver becomes pretty supportive of all his friends and his relationship with Johann is no different. Oliver makes for a pretty good listener and he doesn’t mind hearing about his friend’s worries. He’ll offer some pretty good advice as well. 

Neveen + Oliver: Oliver is, without a doubt, the most social of all the crew members. Unlike him, however, Neveen is the exact opposite. He will respect her space if she needs it, but he is also there to make sure she doesn’t lose herself in it. In a lot of ways, he reminds Neveen of her own sister.

Emmett + Alternis: These two form a pretty close bond. Both share feelings of becoming static in life. Both struggle with insecurity and general feelings of anxiety that they are not good enough. However, they both also share a deep curiosity for the world around them. She likes to ask him questions knowing he won’t brush them off and he feels comfortable enough to ramble on about whatever subject is most interesting to him knowing that she is willing to listen with interest herself.

Bonus: 

Commander Mitch Connor + his crew: At first, Mitch was pretty hesitant to be this mission’s commander. They’re all kids, two of them fresh out of high school almost. However, he quickly learns that this crew is more than capable. They’re adaptable and fiercely resilient. They know how to use their strengths to their advantage and do so creatively. Most importantly, though, they genuinely care about each other.

8. Who is their enemy?

The story’s main antagonist is a weird hivemind entity that is partially made from various alien life forms and part alien tech. It’s main purpose is to find creatures its programming deems perfect specimens and then merge with (eat???) them to take on their abilities. The creature was once a technologically advanced alien race from a different dimension who sought to create the “perfect being”. No one’s really sure what “perfect being” meant for them, but eventually they, and most of their old universe, were all consumed by their creation. The entity then traveled across many other dimensions still seeking specimens to consume. While it has no definite shape or can even be considered a single animal, it’s still very much sapient. It’s hard to tell the age or if it was supposed to be machine or animal or even what species it originally was. However, the minds and voices of its creators live on with it. 

If you want an idea as to how it sounds, it’s a little like the Warpers from Subnautica but with multiple voices. Here’s a clip. 

9. What do they want more than anything?

They all have different dreams that they are pursuing, but they basically all want a life where they can be happy and have closure.

Emmett wants to be at peace with himself.

Johann wants to find a place that he can call home.

Oliver wants to protect the little he already has.

Neveen wants to achieve her dreams.

Alternis wants to belong.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Emmett is, first of all, much too doubting in himself. He worries so much that he can’t appreciate the things he has done right or the things he can do. He isn’t very kind to himself.

Johann misses the life he had on Earth. He and his family moved to a new planet because they don’t really like Earth and want to experience something new. But Johann never feels the same sense of “home” as he did on Earth. 

Oliver’s job is helping out his mother with their repair shop. So, when the shop is threatened with closure, he is desperate to find another job, but since he dropped out and never finished school, he’s having a really hard time coming up with something that will provide enough. This is why he ends up joining the space program. 

Neveen is in a somewhat similar boat. She has dreams of working as a doctor and all of her time and effort goes into studying for that. She, however, ends up getting rejected from three different schools in her area. She starts to feel like time is somehow running out for her.

Alternis has had a hard time. When she didn’t fit the expectations her creators set, she quickly discovered that her differences were seen as something flawed. She spent a lot of her early days either alone and she grew to be resentful towards people. But she wants to be accepted, so when they told her she was to be assigned to the Perseus Station, she had a lot of mixed feelings about the situation. 

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Emmett: not smart/good enough, not allowed to make mistakes

Neveen: her success determines her worth, has to do things just right or Else

Oliver: dumb for dropping out of college, is not much other than the comic relief in his friend group

Johann: thinks he can run from facing what’s really bothering him

Alternis: needs to have a purpose to be worth something to others, needs to change to be accepted

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

Emmett: 5′2, curly brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, a scar running from jaw to cheek, there’s a picture @auroradrawing made here!

Neveen: 5′5, long black hair, brown eyes, dark skin, red hijab

Johann: 6′2. dark blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin

Oliver West: 5′10, black hair, brown eyes, pale skin

Alternis:  i made a post on her appearance here

Plot Points

13. What is the internal conflict?

I would say that the overall internal conflict for all the characters is them struggling to understand that they are human which means that they are allowed to be wrong, make bad decisions, have emotions, and fail and none of this undermines their value in any way.

14. What is the external conflict?

The main external conflict is survival. They come into contact with a powerful interdimensional creature who is possibly hundred of thousands of years old or more and they have no idea how to stop it. After their station and only way home gets destroyed and they find themselves stranded with no way to let anyone know what’s happening, they realize that they have to find a way to at least repel the creature as it’s not just their survival at stake, but also that of their friends and family back on Earth.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Death, probably. There’s a lot of things that would be left undone and unsaid and also literally no one else knows what is going on, so it could be a while before anyone back home realizes they’re never coming back. And that thought is one of the scariest things they can imagine.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Basically the purpose of the entity and them figuring out what it is and what it wants changes everything they were led to believe at first about the planet and the origin of the ruins.

17. Do you know how it ends?

Yes. They all get a happy ending because I’m done with the sad shit. Also happy endings are good?? Like give me more happy endings dammit! They go through so much shit and get tested so much, like, they deserve their happy ending. 

Bits and Bobs

18. What is the theme? 

You are stronger than you think. Let yourself be flawed. Things might not be okay, but they will work out. You have a place in the universe, no matter how small. Tomorrow is a new day.

19. What is a reoccurring symbol?

Darkness, geometry/symmetry, fire (?),static, lots of the names of things have meaning behind them

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

There are two made up planets on which this story takes place. The first planet is Thesan-4. This planet is a desert-like planet. It’s in the Milky Way for sure, but I haven’t exactly figured out where yet. This planet is primarily used for military/astronaut training. At least 40% of the story will take place here. The other planet is an icy, Earth-like planet. I call this planet the Mirror World in my head but the actual name is pending. Here is where the remains of early civilization are found and this is where the Perseus crew is assign for their mission. At least 60% of the story will take place here.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

Hell yeah! Scenes and a general outline are all I have right now. A lot of the little details are still pretty vague though.

22. What excited you about this story?

Oh man, is “everything” an answer? I always wanted to write a story set in space, but my biggest issue was finding a good plot. Like, I had the characters and I had some vague idea of a setting, but no actual plot or conflict. This story spent a lot of time on the back burner and I honestly thought about abandoning it a few times. However, it has come to grow so much and I’m really happy I didn’t abandon it. I love the lore behind the antagonist and the character interactions and uhhh well damn. Everything!

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

I think the very first thing I come up with is either the setting or the characters. Then, I make the characters that I feel would go best with the setting or vice versa. Other details like names and stuff come way later. 99% of my writing process is music. If I need a certain mood for a scene, I’ll put on some music that fits and I’ll listen to it a few times before actually writing. I find that this helps me come up with scenes so I don’t really struggle at that. Putting them down on paper is harder lol, especially when I can see at least three different ways to write the opening. But once I start writing, everything flows much easier.

#these were all such excellent questions #thanks for the tag

[worldcakecakecake]

The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

As always, be patient with this one, I only manage to write mostly when I have the time. Hope you enjoy!

                                                     Chapter 6

Over the five years, as he learned the spells himself, as he trained others, as he examined the society’s dynamics, Ludwig created a notebook with an exact schedule on how exactly he would have Feliciano breaking the spell by surely the end of the year. That was if they kept to it, but Ludwig was confident. He would be as forceful, strong and commanding as he needed to be. He leafed through the pages, gazing to the physical trainings and exercises they could start with, keeping them in mind, saving the notebook in one of his many pockets. His watch beeped at six, the time Augusto had settled that Feliciano should be awake and ready to meet with Ludwig. He took a couple of breaths, ordering the dictation in his head, taking his leave and officiating the beginning to the process of his cure.

It was common for the base to already be so active in the morning, men and women rushing to their missions, others having their breakfast and preparing for their own training, and of course, it was also time for old friends to meet, to laugh, to mock and tease. Ludwig was in no way saved from this as he made his way through the halls, clear direction to where the living quarters of the main Valenti lay. When they saw him, in handsome wear, serious and walking with his ever command and intimidating power, they actually smirked and whistled.

“Getting all nice and proper for Feli, huh?” One dared comment.

“You’re going to have him all by yourself. I wish I was that lucky,” one sang, added by more whistles and aw from the rest.

“Have fun, but not too much,” one winked, followed by laughter and surely other words that Ludwig ignored and forgot the deeper he went into the halls.

He reached silent areas, more intricate halls of old and important artifacts of wealth to the Valenti. Any other and the guards would have easily thrown him off, but Ludwig was Feliciano’s new instructor and he was given special permission from Augusto himself to enter, to wake up Feliciano himself if he wasn’t presented outside his room at the decided time. Ludwig had a hunch that he wouldn’t, so when he turned the hall and found his area empty, he tried to hide a groan, picking up a key from one of his many pockets.

He just hoped he wouldn’t see anything weird.

He knocked gently, nothing, a little bit harsher, still nothing. It seemed like he was coming in then. He placed the key, unlocked, pushed it open, hoping that the light and his towering presence, sudden in the surprisingly small room, was enough a shock to wake him up.

“Feliciano!” He already called, his eyes falling upon the bed to find it empty. It was messed, showing to him that it had been used and the person left hastily without preparing it. He gazed to the bathroom, door hanged open, with no water running or rushing steps. A red underwear was thrown on floor, along with other items that must have fallen from one of the desks with commotion.

Feliciano was not in the room and neither where he was supposed to meet him. Ludwig’s mind was quick in creating conclusions, being reminded of two things: One, Augusto had talked about how worried he was that Feliciano would try to escape from the base. Two, one of the reasons Feliciano was well hidden in Tuscany was worry over being kidnapped. The Valenti were a family that were constantly being chased by many of the supernatural, hoping to find a direct ending to their hunting. Feliciano was a weak target they could capture easily, and with his hold, and knowing how Augusto cared for him very deeply, the leader of the Society of Romulus and Remus would be weak and submissive to anything they would ask. If this happened, the blame would be quickly on Ludwig. Feliciano was supposed to be under his watch, he was supposed to be with him, this was supposed to be his responsibility.

He had to go after him and find him that instant.

  Feliciano was careful in his walk through the base. He tried to keep his steps as silent as possible, hiding in closets, rooms, or behind tall items if any member happened to be passing by the area. He would peak and make sure halls, rooms, terraces and spaces were empty before he took his entrance, before he rushed with easy steps, all until he arrived to his place of destination.

It was an old area, one not used to receiving the presence of people, even that of the leader. It was the only place Feliciano could move confidently, closing the large woodened and decaying door behind him, knowing well that no one would reach him, that no one would see what he was to do.

It was a large terrace like area, designed in marble, wasted away by its years, dirtied, the white blackening like the mountain it took its base in. It was well behind the base, forgotten, unknown, surely not even Augusto knew about this place. Ruins decorated with beautiful statues and structures, with a view to the forest, to the mountains, to the horizon, absolutely stunning. Feliciano had lost himself in the sight, forgetting for a moment the real reason for his coming here. After he took a deep breath of fresh natural air, he moved to check all the statues, coming down small steps, extending the marbled tiled floors, until he found the familiar fox figure at the very end. He inspected it, recognizing, smiling in pride.

“Kiku…” he called first, shyly and nervous, not sure if this would work.

The statue alighted in blue, a net of electrifying lines that scanned it until it was granted movement, its fox disguise falling apart to reveal a stone made man, standing handsomely in the robes Feliciano knew him in, even the fox ears and nine tails that sprung from his head and rear. He opened his eyes, alighting in a bright light before it dimmed to its usual dark color, then stretching, shaking, making himself familiar to this new kind of body.

“I see this was successful,” Kiku worded, inspecting himself to make sure that the spell had worked. Once he was confident, he took sitting in the pillar that his own statue was supposed to be seated on, gazing around curiously, just as Feliciano did, trying to find a story for each and every single one of the statues there. If only he could learn to bring them to life just as he had once done with Kiku.

“It’s great to see you here, Kiku, you have no idea how more at ease I am now.” He truly smiled, the usual jump in his steps as he explored the stairs and balconies.

“I see. How has it gone? Have you already started training? Have you been giving a group?”

Kiku could tell by Feliciano’s instant souring and halting that it was something he rather not speak about at the moment, but they needed this information. Feliciano had to resign, with a sigh, leaving behind a statue of a half-naked woman holding what seemed to be a star that she grasped from the very skies.

“I attended a welcoming feast yesterday, it was really nice. There were drinks, food and I got to meet a lot of good people and also…my instructor.” He suddenly stopped, nerving, eyes gazing elsewhere in a shake, seeming lost, Kiku already getting negative connotations from whoever this person was.

“How was this person? Do you at least know what kind of group you got in?”

“No, nonno gave me a private instructor.” Feliciano sat down on one of the steps in defeat. “I’ll only be doing the tests in groups, but the rest will be myself with Ludwig.”

Kiku guessed that was his new teacher. “Well um…at least you’ll be given more focus and dedication, it would serve better.”

“Yes, but I’ll be watched over twenty-four seven, which will make this harder, I probably won’t be given siestas or snack breaks.” He sighed with more betrayal, leaning his head unto his knees, wanting to release all the agitation he grew ever since he arrived to the base.

“I doubt this Ludwig would be so harsh.” Feliciano remained silent, clear doubt to Kiku’s words. “How is he like?”

Feliciano tried to gather words from their small meeting the night before…but it was constantly interrupted by also memories of bloodied dreams, black monsters, growls and screams.

“He’s…really tall and…muscular, kind of intimidating,” he started. “He’s from Germany and well…very German. Blond, blue eyed, serious, strong, efficient, I mean, he has a total of ninety-eight kills and nonno told me that sometimes he resorts to using physical strength.” Feliciano tried not to show his impression, but it was enough for Kiku to imagine and understand what this man could be. All Feliciano mentioned gave him quite the high status, the kind of person his grandfather wanted more in the group, what he hoped Feliciano would become. Feliciano shivered, he couldn’t possibly reach to kill ninety-eight, he couldn’t possibly punch anything or even grow as tall and built as his new instructor, with seals and leadership to help others be granted the very same honors.

“He’s pretty handsome I have to admit though,” Feliciano added, which got a chuckle from Kiku.

“Do you think your seduction skills could get you out of this then?” Kiku wanted to hope and joke.

“He doesn’t seem like the type, plus I’m not interested in him that way…and also...” he had to say it, if even the flashes, if even the way it had his body trembling, if even remembering all those sleepless nights.

“He’s a Beilschmidt,” he named, like a spell of silence that brought all of the surrounding air to solidify, to slightly tremble alongside him.

Kiku went still understanding, not sure what words to tell him for a while.

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence, probably a common German surname," Kiku tried to ease.

“Nonno said the exact same thing, but still, his eyes and...even the way he moved, the way he looked at me, it was exactly like…” he didn’t want to finish, he didn’t want the images to become more vividly.

“Your grandfather wouldn’t accept a werewolf to join the society, especially choose one as his grandson’s private instructor.” Kiku knew how Feliciano disliked hearing the word, how it only intensified what was going on in his head, but it was the only way he could slightly make him understand, to not bring him into worry, to make him still believe in a chance to what they wanted.

“It still doesn’t erase the fact that he bears the name I’ve heard countless of times in my dreams.”

“Maybe…maybe it could mean something else, maybe he could stop something, or…maybe it was a premonition on who would teach you to fight these things.”

“Kiku, you know more than anyone that I don’t want to fight anything. I just want to find a way to escape-”

“Feliciano?”

Luckily Kiku solidified back to a fox statue before Ludwig could notice, leaving Feliciano alone in this extend, with mist coming in, darkening the few sunlight that shone in the area. It made the loneliness stronger, and being with only Ludwig there, it made him become more frightened, nervous to come to the blonde’s figure waiting by the entrance door. He stood, pushing away any dust in his new uniform from the ruins, hoping Ludwig hadn’t seen or heard anything, his eyes darting around the area hoping to find an excuse for when he asked.

“Who were you talking to?”

“…Did you hear?”

“Not enough, but I could hear you speaking. Is something the matter?”

“Uh…” The fox statue was still, with no hint of presence, making Feliciano wonder if perhaps he had taken a nap here and dreamed it all. “Nothing just um…talking to myself.” It didn’t fit well and he knew he was only making himself look crazy to his new instructor. Ludwig didn’t seem to mind though, he only shrugged. The way of people’s dealing were their own and to be respectful he knew it was best not to comment on it.

“Did you finish with your preparations?” He quickly went to scheduling and Feliciano was compliant enough to nod. “Breakfast?” That’s when Feliciano faltered, biting his lips, his eyes escaping, Ludwig could already sense a negation. He took a deep breath, trying to get the cooling air of the coming mist to calm any growing rage. It was one of the many exercises Augusto had taught him, both for himself and for his transformations.

“We’ll go to the dining hall and get you something. Once you’re done, we’ll wait some fifteen minutes for the food to be digested properly and we’ll start immediately with your training.”

“Yes sir,” Feliciano bowed, if even nervous, in acceptance.

“Sehr gut, dann folge mir bitte.” He moved away, leaving the door open for Feliciano to take, and so he understood that he wanted him to come along.

He began his climbing back to him, but maintaining his gazes continuous on the statues, hoping he could send some kind of apology to Kiku for having to leave like this. Ludwig closed the door for him and they continued on their way, silent, Ludwig’s expression forward while Feliciano’s eyes remained only on the dominance of his back, a sudden question bothering in his head.

“How did you find me?” It was just so odd and when it was a pretty abandoned area, he knew not even Lovino would go looking for him there, yet how did Ludwig, a man that he had only met the night before, found him so quickly in such a far off place.

“Just asked some of the members around, they saw you head this way.”

Feliciano flushed in embarrassment. He should have been more careful when he had made his way. He just didn’t know that Ludwig had an enact sense of smell that could track down scents for miles and miles, something that he had strengthen well in his five years in the society.

  After their short breakfast, Ludwig took Feliciano to a heightened balcony, with vines, flowers and grass covering the stone and part of the mountain it took. There was an amazing breeze, a comfortable silence away from any of the rushing and distractions of the lower base, but despite so, harsh equipment didn’t stood so far, all which Ludwig brought, checked and even listed on a small journal he held.

Yes, he had everything, not to be used all today but they had weeks together for that. He stowed the little book in his front pocket, gazing then to Feliciano, who was in turn distracted with the view of the rising sun over the horizon, greeting and coloring the expanse of this territory.

Ludwig had to cough to get his attention.

“All right, I think it’s safe to begin.” Hands behind his back, breathing and bringing to his stature an energy of authority, one that had Feliciano suddenly intimidated, but it was just how he started with his students, even if this time he only had one person in his ‘class’. “Now, as a Valenti, I expect you to already know the purpose, meaning, goals, clauses and laws expected of the membership of somebody in this group," he neared, hoping that his words were set clear. “I do not have to repeat pledges, but I cannot instantly drag you into hunter teachings. Were taking this step by step, starting with physical training.” He pointed to all the equipment he had brought and Feliciano found sense in it that made him cringe. “After I deem your body and stamina right enough, we will start with different sessions on your power, weapon wielding, monster study and research, hunting techniques…and geography.” It was already causing Feliciano’s mind to spin and get headaches.

Ludwig reached for a clipboard that hanged with the rest of the equipment, he quickly showed it to Feliciano, a table was present, a schedule of the kinds of pounds and numbers Feliciano was expecting to carry and do as he grew, the miles he should run, how his body should look by next month, all such high expectations that made him want to cry.

Ludwig put it down, stretching and cracking, determined to start that instant. “We’ll begin with your strength training today.”

Feliciano had to hold down any loud whimpers.

Ludwig made him do pushups, squats, shoulder presses, lunges, kickbacks and different exercises that he hadn’t even known existed until that day. Was he successful? Definitely not. By some miracle he managed at least six pushups…when Ludwig was expecting twenty. It was the same with the rest of the exercises, he only managed a small amount or sometimes none, cringing, shouting in pain and hopelessly stopping thinking he was going to break something. Ludwig was clearly not happy about this, shown in the way he shouted, screamed, swung his hand as if ready to whip him to continue.

About time for lunch, he checked his schedule and expectations, seeing that Feliciano had reached none of the promised points he held, that most of his students would have already reached by then. He thought about just continuing for the day, but he knew it could strain him. He was currently breathing heavily, lying against the ground as if he just drowned.

It was best he rested, perhaps for tomorrow things would change now that he at least knew the exercises. He had to quickly reorganize his schedule but surely he could arrange things to not hold them back from his one year goal.

“That’s it for today,” he announced as he closed the book in finality.

Although Feliciano groaned, it was one of relief, resting upon the floor and still trying to ease his breath from everything he had done.

“Really?” A light of hope in his eyes, Ludwig actually felt kind of bad for having to destroy it once he presented to him a large book.

The cover showed various diagrams of human muscles, as well as skins and certain points of interest for relaxation or even attacks. “Why are you giving me an anatomy book? I thought you said you were going to leave these teachings for later.”

“I meant putting it into practice, this is just reading and testing, putting you ahead. I can’t have you the whole day exercising but I can’t have you doing nothing either.” Ludwig began to pick up some things to place in his satchel to leave. “This anatomy book is a special one that not only teaches you about your own body, openings for your power to energize and how you can even relieve aches, but it also shows paralyzing and simple control tricks you can use against your enemies, no matter the kind, some without even the use of magic. Just basic things to heal and attack if anything, but don’t count on this as your only defense teaching, there are several others, just thought we could start with this.”

Feliciano turned the book intrigued, already curious to how all these things could work, all on the palm of his hand to learn, turning the pages fast as if it could tell him instead of having to read it all.

“I want you to write a two page report of the first chapter for tomorrow morning.”

Any ease Feliciano held flew off to the wind. “What?”

“A two page report on the first chapter for tomorrow. Are we clear?” This time he seemed to threat, bearing the command into Feliciano’s figure, letting him know he was serious and he was to obey to this.

Feliciano wanted to complain about the time, the suddenness, how they just started, but with his continuing angry expression it was clear that he wouldn’t care about all that, he just wanted instant results.

“Yes, sir,” he decided on agreeing.

“I expect to see you here around the same time next morning or I will have to fetch you at your own room and drag you here myself.” He was gone, leaving Feliciano in the spot he still sat upon, starring at the book, thinking of places he could start to read and what he should have for lunch.

  After having moussaka that the kitchen presented for the day, a servant had come at the orders of Augusto, asking Feliciano for his presence at the main office. It was only early noon and Feliciano arrived with deep exhaustion, carrying the book heavily, a puppy and kitty bookmark on the last page he was reading, it seemed to weigh on him as he slumped upon the chair before his grandfather, close to letting himself fall asleep right there.

“It is almost siesta time,” Augusto reminded with a chuckle.

“Can I sleep here then?”

“Of course, caro, there’s a sofa right there,” he pointed, which held pillows and even a little blanket. He sometimes took his own siestas there. “But not before telling me how that first day went.” He took his chair and leaned ready to hear all the details.

Feliciano groaned, wanting to slump down to the floor and hide himself.

“Typical reaction from anyone who’s being mentored by Ludwig,” Augusto laughed.

“He’s so strict, demanding, and intense, and kind of scary and there’s no such thing as breaks,” he easily complained. “He already wants me to make a report!” He raised the book insulted. Augusto dared to continue to laugh. “Am I really stuck with him as my private mentor?” He still thought he could save himself from more of this.

“Feliciano, I don’t want you wasting your time here. You came to be taught and be a successful member of your family’s society. Ludwig showed me well that he was the best suited to form you into that. I have a lot of confidence in him.”

“I didn’t even want to-” Any cheerful air was instantly broken with Augusto’s tightening expression, with distaste and disgust, knowing what Feliciano was to mention. Feliciano let his words fall, suddenly tremulous, shushing his voice.

He shouldn’t have mentioned it, he just thought that maybe his grandfather would have thought deeper about the fact that he just didn’t belong there, but it didn’t seem likely. Apparently it was more important to withhold the family honor.

Augusto stood, easing close, taking Feliciano’s arm, unwrapping the constant fabric he had tied around the palm of his hand as a way to avoid looking. Despite its beauty he was somewhat repulsed by it. The wolf was then there, presented as it had always been from the moment of birth, the reminder that Feliciano had a great distaste for.

“Your duty is carved on your body like the rest of us, and by order of the gods, you must remain obedient to follow that command.” Augusto’s voice was sweeter this time, his caress a soft and trusting one Feliciano had known since his earliest memories. “I will have no insolence, the family name will not be changed by you. Follow your vocation, if even a position as a nurse, but you will serve this society.” He stood once again and took his chair, leaving Feliciano to wrap the fabric across his hand once again.

The words he hated were repeated, a good holding and another push to keep him where he most despised, but he still had a desire that was strong in his mind and heart. He gripped the hand with the fabric tighter, reminding him of his wishes, of his still hopes to challenge what that mark meant.

“This brings me to the reason I even called you here.”

Feliciano raised his glance curious, watching as his grandfather rummaged through his many shelves until he found what he was looking for, a bounded leather book, black as the color of their uniforms, but with intricate forms of mazes, leading to the silver of a rose, beautifully crafted, taking Feliciano’s eyes into glows of wonder.

“It is customary that I gift members of my family when they come into the base, and since I know about your interest for art, I thought it suitable to give you a sketchbook.” He pushed it across the desk to Feliciano, who instantly took it into his hands, tracing every bit of beautiful design.

It held many pages, a perfect white paper to let any of his pencils trace, endless to the many ideas he could hold in his stay there.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much, Nonno." The appreciation was seem so clear in his eyes, in the adoration in his hold, not leaving the peculiar design of the rose.

Augusto smiled, hoping that whatever he would draw there would help to ease any of the coming challenges with his teachings in the society.

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#The Society of Romulus and Remus #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

[theladysmith]

Cold

Full confession: I love winter. I capital L Love it. Sure, I'm a February baby so I might be a bit biased, but the aesthetic of winter is endlessly inspiring to me, and its kinaesthetic properties propel my body and mind forward in primal ways. We took our tree down a little late this year, and now that the glittery trappings of the holidays have been packed away; the tree is gone to the great wood chipper in the sky, the sentimentally-charged ornaments have been boxed for another year, the true nature of wintertime is beginning to show itself in silvery light of overcast days illuminating the newly open space in our apartment. It's like the tree was holding space for a minimalist approach to the new year, but it feels a bit like that to me every year.  Because I've been working from home lately, this winter has felt more compelling than any in recent memory, and I've been feeling quietly energized by it. 

I've lived in two somewhat different environments for the majority of my life thus far, so I have a contrast frame for what winter was and what winter now is. Living in southern Ontario, next to Lake Ontario (like, right next to Lake Ontario) has been a winter experience completely opposite of that season of my childhood in western Quebec. While only 600 km separates the two locales, the weather patterns and winter experiences are vastly different.

Lake Ontario rules winter here, rarely bringing lake-effect snow, and more often bringing lake-effect insulation, so winters on the lakeshore are typically snowless, raw-windy and leaden grey skied affairs. Sunshine is intermittent, weird temperature patterns are frequent, and the fresh, snow-cleansed air quality of a deep-woods winter is non-existent, replaced by the dusty, industrial and chemical smells of urban living, periodically cut through with a bitter, nose-stinging wind. The palette is all-grey; which I adore, but I would be the first to say that it takes a certain mindset to appreciate the beauty of extremely limited resources. The dark to light, wind-swept skies, the moody depth of the wave-rippled lake, the salt-scoured street pavement, drab patterned bark and branches, weak January sunshine in the late afternoon, these are all lovely palettes and patterns to contemplate, but when compared against the brilliant blue skies, glowing green pine forests and shimmering indigo and pearlescent snowscapes of the Gatineau Hills, this palette can seem almost oppressive in its monotony. In my creative experience, the key to surviving and harnessing inspiration in a southern Ontario winter is to look for the subtleties. Wool socks help too.

So many people I know who grew up in southern Ontario hate winter. It wasn't ever an option to me to hate it. I wasn't taught to. My parents, who would occasionally complain about driving in snow, shovelling snow, or how much snow the dogs would track in, were otherwise very open to their enjoyment of the season. I mean, how can you hate a season? Isn't that part of what makes Canadian life unique, that we (generally) have access to seasonality? We celebrate the actual changes in season ad nauseum: spring is here! hello summer! pumpkin-spice errything! it's time for holiday sparkle! While I get that winter sets up our longing for spring, and we loveLoveLOVE summer (we do live in an area rather cultish about its love of cottage life) and that fall is lovely and romantic, I can't help but notice that around these parts, there's little love for the true nature of winter, mostly as a result of its fickle nature. But it's pointless and exhausting to hate a thing you can't change. It's easier to accept it. Yes, it's cold, but that's where the wool socks come in to play. Again, why fight it? Put on another sweater, bundle the fuck up and get out into it. Cold wind is the best remedy to those vague, persistent, anxiety-related headaches that we all get. The throb of warm working muscles during a cold walk/snowshoe or ski can bring on a high that you will never find in a gym (this is true functional fitness my friends - learning to endure, thrive and be active in very cold weather.) Feeling the comfort-void of winter weather is essential to helping you enjoy the cozy privilege of winter home life (or hygge, as the Danes and Norwegians call it - a quick Instagram search will show you just how fashionable hygge has become this year...)  There's a reason why we don't enjoy hot chocolate in the summer...

Creatively, I've always thrived with boundaries. I like the challenge of 'do the best you can with what you have', and winter doesn't give up a whole lot to work with. But the silvery light of day propels me to be as physically productive as possible, so that the quieter, darker hours of afternoon and evening can bring bouts of brain-storming, planning, designing and researching. My chilly apartment makes me thankful for the fiery warmth of soldering, the repetitive exertion of hammering and sawing that I build working in my unheated/unairconditioned studio; by contrast, there are days in the summer that are entirely too hot for studio work, where after 2 hours of working in incredible heat with only intermittent fan use to cool me off (you can't solder with a fan on you!) I end up so heat-exhausted, my brain doesn't even work. Winter is actually my spring - my brain becomes alive, during the day my body is ready to take advantage of any moment for action and at night, I turn inwards to discovery and rest, and the known boundaries: the limited light, sparse palette, tenuous comfort and effort to accessibility all seem to stoke my creativity to an inferno. 

I suppose all this is to say that one of the biggest lessons I've really embraced in the past year, (though I don't really think I've been taking it on consciously) is to decide to find some enjoyment in each day, in the boundaries, in the comfort-void. Broadly, it's meant finding enjoyment in aspects of my environment, nature and the season; specifically it's meant actually allowing myself the opportunity to do so. When I was working in an office full-time, most of my moments of memorable daily enjoyment were those moments when I left the office for the frigid cold, in a seemingly wild contrast to the warm but numbing work of the office. The cold would wake me back to myself, so I started to seek it out on the daily. I had to to keep myself alive. Because I am no longer doing numbing work, the cold has become more companion than catharsis. We go out each day into it willingly, we look forward to it, because the comfort-void outdoors helps us appreciate the comfort within; inside our home, studio, and within ourselves.  I love winter.