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synergysilhouette · 7 months

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An alternate take on "Frozen II" (2019)

I'm back! I wasn't expecting to do a rewrite for this, but considering how polarized the feedback for this film is, I wanted to give my own spin on it--but keep in mind, this takes into account my rewrite for "Frozen," so read that first! You have NO IDEA how hard this was to rewrite, especially since I had to alter a lot. Hope you enjoy this, and be sure to check out my rewrites for other revival-era films!

Again: make use of the concept art! Unlike part 1, it doesn't really look historically/culturally accurate to medieval Scandinavia, but at least it looks amazing! Maybe the silhouettes could be changed to make it more accurate. Keep the color schemes, though; I love the oranges and reds used for Anna rather than her black look used in the final product--and yes, I know the last picture is from her Arendelle festival dress at the beginning of the film; I'd like it to be formatted to her travel dress (I like the silvery-grey coat though), as well as using the blues and greens for Elsa.

2. Stay in Arendelle a little bit longer. If you recall my "Frozen" remake, it's a larger kingdom, and I'd like to see it a bit more during "Some Things Never Change" and before we relax in the castle. Considering my other changes, it works out fine; they could be perusing the town when Elsa hears the magical voice. And Liutenant Mattias and his group are never trapped in Northuldra; they remain in Arendelle and didn't have a large role in part 1 due to Agnarr's advice to the staff to keep an emotional distance from the royals.

3. Hans is Anna's main love interest, being a genuine good guy here, and joins the team on their adventure. Given the events of the first film, they actually have been engaged for a while, as Anna is working on her relationship with Elsa and Hans is trying to bond with (some of) his brothers. He's also earned bonus sister points from Elsa because he serves as a confidant to her. Despite being engaged, Kristoff hoped Anna's feelings would've changed, but despite caring for him, she chose Hans.

4. Explore Northuldra culture more, and make Arendelle ancestors (a separate culture from the Northuldra) Sami-inspired. I find it a waste that the Northuldra simply existed to give Elsa a hint to the voice and serve as the victims of a colonial story. In my opinion, they don't live THAT far from Arendelle; they just stay a little ways away, enough to keep their cultural distance while still keeping in touch with current events. Plus they're not stuck in one area. In my version, their mythology would have a BIG impact on the story.

5. Remove Iduna's Northuldra origins. Maybe it's just me, but I do think Iduna doesn't look Northuldran. In my version, she was from a tribal group, racially similar to the people of Arendelle and hidden thanks to the trolls (and I'd also make Kristoff related to them as well). Or if we wanna utilize more of the Nordic mythology, she can be descended from elves, who are said to live in Ahtohallan, where Elsa ventures to find out the origins of the voice.

8. What were different elements in the film now embody seasons: Bruni (summer), Nokk (spring), Gale (fall), and Elsa (winter), which can be spiritual or in corporeal form, usually the former. The nokk (as per mythology) can also shapeshift. I'm removing the rock giants, since they don't really serve a purpose in my rewrite.

9. "I Can't Lose You" is included. After finding out the REAL reason their parents died, Elsa feels awful for how she blamed their deaths on Anna, and Anna attempts to prevent Elsa from shutting her out again, but Elsa is realizing that she's now at a point where Anna may not be able to understand (or survive) Elsa's destiny.

10. After Elsa sends away Hans, Olaf, and Anna, a new trio forms: Elsa, Honeymaron (who joins the team to help uncover the secrets of the voice), and the spirit of a previous winter incarnation named Cajetan. Elsa is able to summon him thanks to her own abilities tied to memory (it's mentioned the nokk can do so as well). A Northuldran from decades ago, he silently guides Elsa throughout he journey to find the voice, with Honeymaron bridging certain gaps in unspoken communication that may be lost on someone not from Northuldra. Can't decide whether or not Cajetan is like a little brother to Elsa or a hinted-at love interest (like I'd make Honeymaron). Regardless, Elsa does have higher priorities here than romance, but the seeds can be sew. The other trios are Anna/Hans/Olaf and Kristoff/Ryder/Sven. It's also revealed the previous embodiment of winter killed Kristoff's parents, as well as many of the ethnic group that lived with the trolls. Elsa suffers a lot of guilt for this, and thus involves Kristoff less in their journey, not wanting to hurt him, especially given that he's still reeling about Anna and Hans' upcoming wedding.

11. "Lost in the Woods" is about Kristoff letting go of his feelings for Anna as she decides to marry Hans, with possible hinting at him being attracted to Ryder, as well as reeling from the reason his family was taken from him.

12. We get a physical, PRESENT, villain. Sound exciting right? Well, my idea for the villain might lose a few people. Diving into the world's religion a bit more, I do like the idea that the Northuldrans (as well as the Arendelle people's cousins) spoke of an embodiment of destruction and chaos, a being that made seasons violent and dangerous, and prevents them from coinciding. Their goal is chaos, hoping to rebirth the world and crafting the wretched mirror that Arendelle royalty eventually gained possession of. Failing to convince Elsa to freeze Arendelle (and eventually the world), they turned their attention to the other spirits, who, due to lacking a human form, were easier to manipulate and control, using them to corrupt Elsa, who could also be the most destructive force if they to control her. The nokk attempts to flood Arendelle, Bruni burns up the Northuldra forest (causing them to relocate to Arendelle for a period) and Gale killing off other forms of life by taking their breath away until there isn't even a breeze in the air. Perhaps I've played too many video games, but I love the idea that he oversees much of the heroes like a deity would, similar to Eris from "Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas."

13. Change Elsa's origins. When Runeard dies in a frost, Iduna prays for the spirit of winter to be born as someone to bring Arendelle out of it's dark age, resulting in Elsa. "Love," as to be expected, is an honorary 5th element, and it's revealed that humans can only embody the seasons if true love is involved. It also explains why Agnarr abhors magic and attempts to put on a tough front. All of this is shown at Ahtohollan thanks to the magical elves who imbue wisdom to her. She spends a bit more time there before leaving, with "Show Yourself" being sung once she's there, and they're able to show her other memories of her family and show how much her parents loved her. Perhaps the "You are the one you've been waiting for" line is sung by the benevolent primordial entity. And Elsa is able to let go of the past discretions of the frost that killed her grandfather and Kristoff's parents.

14. The ending is a bit more open-ended. The chaotic deity is defeated, though it's noted that such things cannot be defeated, simply diminished or banished, similar to what Elsa does by working with the other seasons to defeat the deity. Elsa realizes that unlocking her full potential has made her a target for the deity's wrath, but she believes as long as she has those she cares about, then she can get through anything (it's cheesy, but it's true!) However, she does decide that she wants to learn more about the seasons and the magical world, and asks Anna to be a regent in her stead. Anna (and Hans) accept, with a bittersweet goodbye. The film ends with Anna and Hans kissing (and Olaf watches) while Kristoff, Sven, Elsa, and her seasonal contemporaries make for Northuldra, where Ryder, Honeymaron, and Cajetan await them.

One again, I've got A LOT going on with this remake. Maybe it needs to be a 2 hour movie. PLEASE let me know your thoughts and if you have any questions! I may tweak this later.

Update: I've also made a post about my own take if I was in charge of a Disney movie about the Snow Queen. This adaptation is independent of my Frozen remakes.

#frozen #disney #disney animation #elsa #anna #frozen 2 #hans #olaf #jack frost #show yourself #into the unknown #kristoff

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broomsandbrews · 4 years

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The Beauty of Seasons Through my Eyes

I wake up on a hot Summer morning to the sound of the birds singing. There are just a few bubbly clouds in the bright blue sky, announcing a lovely day. I spot a butterfly. I think it's a Monarch. Funny how butterflies can't see their wings and see how beautiful they are, but yet others can. I guess we, as people, are a little like that too. I now walk to the kitchen and make some homemade iced tea with fresh lemons, adding some honey for a touch of sweetness. The sun is shining through the window, forming a pool of golden light on the hardwood floor. I do my laundry and hang my clothes on the clothing line, a warm breeze caresses my cheeks. The cotton sheets are swaying in the air; they will smell so good when they're dry. I love that linen, clean smell. The sound of the leaves rustling in the wind is delightful, as well as the calm and gentle ringing noise the wind chimes are making. I do a bit of cleaning, let the animals out so they can run in the field, and go check on my garden. I water the crops and notice they will be ready for harvest soon. I visit my barn and do some early morning chores. I then decide to get inside my greenhouse, where I tend to my plants and fresh culinary herbs. Some will pair gorgeously with today's recipe. I release a lady bug as I think that tonight will be a perfect night to light a bonfire and make some S'mores. I'll sit on a blanket under the mystical moon and the stars, sing and play guitar as I watch the embers glow. All is well. I feel peaceful.

I wake up on a cozy Fall morning and hear the sound of the rain hitting the window as well as the low rumbling of thunder. I get up, and since it's a bit chilly, I put on a knitted sweater, fuzzy socks and light some candles. I turn on an old 80's horror movie; they're my favorite. After it is over, I burn some Sandalwood incense and cleanse my crystals with the smoke. It's almost Samhain. My ultimate favorite Holiday. I put up pictures of loved ones and pets that have passed away and put them on the mantelpiece. They never really leave us, do they? I pour myself some spiced apple cider while I meditate. Then, I open the door; it's still raining, but the air is crisp and cool. I see there's a few carved pumpkins on the patio, and a bunch of Halloween decorations. Ghouls, skeletons, ghosts, witches, you name it. The trees have turned from green, to yellow, to orange, to red, a symphony of colors. I read somewhere that "Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go." I like that quote. I like it a lot. My heart starts racing as I think about going apple picking in my own backyard; Cortlands, Granny Smiths, Golden Delicious...I'm contemplating the many pies I'll be able to make with all this delectable goodness when it stops raining. Fast forward to now, it is time to go pick some tart, wild cranberries. I will also go forage edible mushrooms in the woods later, to put in my spaghetti squash dish. I can't wait to feel the crunching of the autumn leaves under my boots. I feel magical.

I wake up on a cold Winter morning and realize there's a blizzard outside. The first real snowfall of the year. There are icicles hanging from the window sill. The visibility is low, but some snowflakes are sticking to the glass; they are all unique in themselves. We should all be like the snow and beautify everything we touch. With gentleness. With kindness. With resilience. With fierceness. All I can hear are the strong gusts and howling of the arctic winds, but apart from that, everything is quiet. I suddenly get excited for Christmas, I take out some traditional decorations and dress our entire home in Holiday and Yule spirit while sipping on candy cane flavored hot chocolate and listening to old Christmas classics. I’m ecstatic to put up my Christmas tree and start decorating it with fairy lights, garlands and festive ornaments. I put chopped firewood in the fireplace and light it up; a nice, toasty feeling envelops me as I snuggle and curl up in a fluffy blanket by the flames; they're almost as warm as my heart. I take a break, write in my Book of Shadows, documenting some new spells I invented. I re-read the Harry Potter series happily until it's time for dinner. I wanna make something hearty, maybe a vegetable soup, a stew, or some pork roast, perhaps? I also bake some sugar and chocolate chip cookies in the oven, waiting for the rich and sweet aroma to fill up the cabin. I bundle up. Hat, mittens, scarf, snow pants, winter jacket and I turn into a child as I go outside and decide to make snow angels and build snowmen. Memories of childhood flood through me. My cheeks are rosy. I feel nostalgic.

I wake up on a mild Spring morning. The first thing I do is tie my hair in a high ponytail and go for a hike; the snow is starting to melt. The delicate sound of water trickling and flowing freely on the ground tickles my ears. It's like hearing a sweet, comforting song. I take a deep breath of fresh air; there is definitely a feeling of playfulness, but also revival in the air. Wildlife is not quite awake, yet, but everything slowly starts to come back to life, foreshadowing and promising the coming of warm days ahead. The flowers and branches will surely bloom in a short time. The earth scents the air with its fragrance; soon the grass will sprout, drink the rain and color the ground in its new growth, evergreen. The flowers will soon reappear; they are a reminder that everything and everyone grows at its own pace and that there is nothing wrong with it. The winds are now picking up and a wild thought crosses my mind; maybe I should fly a kite or be creative and paint, write or draw. When I get back home, exhausted but joyful, I do some light spring cleaning, and hang some bird feeders outside on the porch. I notice a few flies are starting to buzz about. I start gathering the seeds I have ordered a few weeks back, and plan out my garden. I take a trip to the nearest sugar shack and enjoy some maple toffee. It is a period of starting over. Spirits are lifted. As we see nature being transformed, let's not forget that we are being transformed, too. I feel infinite.

An original work by: @broomsandbrews.

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an-ordinary-roach · 4 years

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

repost, don’t reblog

basics !

FULL NAME. Nathanial Montay Costa Barbor PRONUNCIATION. Bah-Are Bo-or NICKNAME. Bor, Roachie, Pest GENDER. Transmasc agender HEIGHT. Veries, [ 2′ - 4′ as a roach or small fae, 5′6″ glamored, normal-sized fae, happy buddy bor. 7′1″ Base bor, 8′1″ - 9′1″ Bug boss / Plague goat] AGE. 137 ZODIAC. Gemini SPOKEN LANGUAGES. Italian, English, latin, spanish( still very new to it and confuses it with latin and italian), Sylvin(for when they’re in Jabberwock’s forest.)

physical characteristics !

HAIR COLOR. grey with a magenta/cyan shine when light hits it EYE COLOR. can turn white when surprised or excited but other than that it’s all black, plague goat got black sclera with white pupils BODY TYPE. skin in bones in most forms, cockroach bor is pretty plump and well-fed, fae/ glamored/ happybuddy is athletic and lean, but looks a tad underweight ACCENT. sounds like a new yorker’s accent though that hint of italian seeps in whenever they’re thinking out loud VOICE. Can’t verbally speak it but has an amalgamation Collection ( overlapping with young, old, femme, masc, androgynous) small roachie and base form, this for fae and glamored(dossa’s/first part), and plague goat/ bug boss DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous POSTURE. slouches in fae, glamored, base form and happybuddy, the rest is usually straight TATTOOS. sigil of them on all their forms but base (can be seen when their asleep, them not thinking they can’t shapeshift in their base form keep’s it away)

BIRTHMARKS. As a human, they had a foot-shaped birthmark on their foot MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Proto eyes on all their forms( even happy buddy n glamored fae), face can split vertically in all fourm’s (even base form), can survive without a head(same as base form, they dunno they can do either of the face split or head removal), uses their wings to work their necromancy, chewed up antennae(on the left I think), back as a human they had Heterochromia, the missing eye was hazel but they barely remember even having it since they lost the eye at a young age

childhood !

PLACE OF BIRTH. in or near the hospital’s elevator- HOMETOWN. New york, new york city BIRTH WEIGHT. average BIRTH HEIGHT. chubby bab FIRST WORDS. ‘Fuck!’ supposed to be fork because they kept seeing their fam use it and they want it~

SIBLINGS. 2 older brothers, 1 younger sister (all deceased ) PARENTS. Mother & Father (also deceased! ) PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. mother and father were good to them, though their mother wanted Nat(pre-human bor) to keep them away from the mob life with the help of afterschool music classes and singing clubs. They oddly enough the only time they had fun in the church is when they're either playing the organ or singing in the choir. While it took some persuading on Nat’s part to have him even allow them in some missions, though he eased up on his control on what they do once they got into the mortician line of work. They helped their dad get rid of bodies safely and discretely, patched up fellow gang members' wounds, and helped them get some extra money.

adult life !

OCCUPATION. Freelance Cadaver removal, on-call doctor, necromancer, jewelry maker, sells potions for Jeze at the Canopy Market, familiar CURRENT RESIDENCE. has a heck ton of common rest stops! Usually, in these places, they’re in their mammoth femur bone or matchbox hidy hole CLOSE FRIENDS. Eerie , Jeze, Xaallo, Stanley, Burt, Kavi, Bill(another bill!) and a few others I may be forgetting?? ;w; RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single ( depending on the verse) FINANCIAL STATUS. if they can’t steal the money they’re middle class, but if so they’re technically rich?? DRIVER’S LICENSE. nope got wings and portals! CRIMINAL RECORD. petty crimes, theft, shoplifting, murder, arson, robbery, vandalism, restraining arrest, property damage, smuggling, trespassing, money laundry, accomplice to any one of these. (these are during their days in the mob, most of these are unchecked after being a demon, though magic places are a tricky spot too though) VICES. long-lasting grudges, impulsiveness, sometimes don’t learn from their mistakes, can be childish and a bit wishy-washy, sometimes putting their work before others, sometimes. (Only if they’re not friends with a person.) can’t really leave that gang mentality behind.

sex and romance !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. pansextual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Pan-aroflux? they’re romo positive but it isn’t always on their mind most of the time. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch LIBIDO. mid-high (spring-summer) mid-low (fall-winter) TURN ONS. peeps giving them gifts( doesn’t gotta be high end, could be things that the person reminds of them), confidence, peeps who know their way around science, smooches to their antennae or beak/snoot by their crush, peeps who are good with their hands(I’ve noticed the trend with them) TURN OFFS. rich people, CEOs who think their hotshots, peeps on their grudge list, there’s probably more to this list but I dunno ;w; LOVE LANGUAGE. gift-giving(It’s a grab bag of actual valuables or random knickknacks they remind them of the person), starts requesting to join in their activities, actively makes things for said person instead of poofing them in, loves to cook for peeps, allows close ones cover their small little eyes, please squish them full access, grooming is a big thing for them either by tongue or offering to paint nails, brush hair, etc RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. always eager to please( genuinely doesn’t mind the rejection or isn’t doing it out of anxiousness), can and will tease but mostly can’t take what they dish out(so it’s probably why they do it randomly), Does have a habit of dipping away without a word(mostly bc of work or a knoxonk hunt going on) Gets anxious about future commitment stuff may be reaaaally slow with that stuff (mostly bc of what happened to their last relationship as a human). or anxious if the loved one still enjoys being with them, the feeling comes and goes honestly. If sick will want to find a way to help you out first before seeing a doctor (if it’s not too serious. If they die they will revive them). They can be jealous if they don’t like someone and the partner does. will say ‘want me to fuck them up’ in case there’s a person giving their loved one a mild inconvenience. Will have a set form for that particular person, if it’s in a multi relationship it’ll still be a common set form.

miscellaneous !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. 1. Superbug · King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard 2. Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost 3. Gravedigger's Chant - Zeal & Ardor 4. Voltaire - The Headless Waltz 5. Mr. Pinstripe Suit - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Jewelry making, music playing, spelunking, singing, urban exploring, working on their virus / fleshscape, testing on peeps(with their consent), medicine & illness research, collecting wine and variety of things MENTAL ILLNESSES. not sure if this counts?? but they have ADHD, if there’s anything else I gotta workshop and do research on! PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. visual snow syndrome( had it as a human but it’s non-visual symptoms carried over into their demon life: tinnius, brain fog, depersonalization(you’ll see them in roach mode aka: act like a common pest roach you’ll find in the kitchen, this usually last for a day if it does come about) and the very rare occasion of tremors.) LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. right-brained FEARS. phobia of dolls, rejection, future biz, some failure, being trapped against their will, being ‘fired’ and having their friends/family get the brunt of the punishment, this is specific but the saying ‘money survives all hardships’ SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. fake it till they make it (it fluctuates but it’s usually in a good place) VULNERABILITIES. iron, holy stuff, red rope/thread to make wards against knoxonks, some mystery substance to limit their power(mun gotta work it out), their kill word, magic nullifying items Stolen from: @idjibivdu thank!~ tagging: steal it!~

#bugheadcanons #[[ I said this before but before bor's hate for rich people pre-demon bor was in that catagory #sure they weren't snobby or selfish against human life but they still killed peeps for rich peeps for dosh;#they remember it and they /hate it/. no hate for mercenaries/ bounty hunter/ and assassins so long their client isn't a #crude ceo or rich guy trying to get rid of their innocent fam]]

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ladymdc · 5 years

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Feathers & Fur

I wanted to just ramble into the void for a second because I never thought I’d finish this fic.

I posted about half of this work back in 2015 under the same title. However, I deleted it because I was insecure & easily discouraged. I'm not sure what spurred me to revive it, but I am glad I did.

Since then, I have met a lot of wonderful people in the fandom and have made some great, real friendships. Without these individuals ((you know who you are)), I wouldn't have finished this. I know it isn't perfect, but I love that I tried, and I love that I finished it.

I tossed the epilogue below the cut for anyone interested in some floof and I also commissioned a lovely piece of art from Kawereen to celebrate this smol victory. You can see it here.

Pairing: Cullen x Trevelyan (A Soulmates AU) Rating: Explicit Summary: A tear in the soul lets the Fade in.

Not wishing to harm His children, the Maker breathed life into the rend with the promise they could be whole once again, but the Fall from Grace removed that promise. A gift turned curse as the rend was freed from those who created Sin, allowed to also turn their back upon them. To harshen their punishment the broken soul, longing to be whole, continues to feel the call of its missing piece in dreams.

That Cullen was hers, within reach, was the Maker's cruel joke.

Something woke him, what exactly Cullen could not be sure. The dream had been formless, but it left him with a vague sense of dread and restlessness. Thankfully, dawn was not far off. The stars were fading as black turned to grey, and even though she had curled away from him at some point in the night, Evelyn was there.

Sleep was not so difficult for either one of them as it used to be. Cullen remembered a time when they both used to work until they couldn’t anymore. Back then, Evelyn used to fall asleep with her chestnut hair still elaborately braided, wake up, decide it didn’t look too bad and pick right back up where she had left off with Inquisition business. Now it was always loose, falling in soft waves that cascaded down her back.

Normalcy looked good on her.

Quietly, Cullen got out of bed and put on warm clothes. Even though spring had officially arrived, there had been a few light frosts the past week and one brief flurry of snow. He was spending time each day splitting wood by the shed next to the house for good measure. Probably would continue to do so throughout the summer so when winter came, they would have more than enough firewood.

Winters would be hard, but that was nothing new. They had been so at Skyhold too. It would be more than worth the quiet and solitude. Plus, he and Evelyn had each other; they would do what they had always done. Protect one another, keep each other warm, share their strengths.

Survive.

Before heading downstairs, there was a moment where he almost leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. Old habits died hard, especially when they were rooted in fear and uncertainty. The move had been taxing, on them both, but more so on Evelyn. She was still recovering from it, and she needed her rest, so instead of risking waking her, he added two logs to the fire. He would hate for her to get cold in his absence.

In the den, Cullen did the same, and Dante let out an appreciative grunt from his place on the rug. The hound seemed just as pleased with their new home as they were. The Battered Shield had been a home as Skyhold had been. Someplace to store their things and be together while Cullen did what he could to set things right.

After Corypheus had been defeated, his betrayal of Meredith and subsequent public departure from the Order finally became a point of contention. Cullen acknowledged he had taken oaths and that he had broken them, but he would not admit he had done wrong. The continual backlash had been disheartening, but the Inquisition and his family had stood by him, had helped him through the worst of it. And even though he was still ostracized by the Order, he held no regret. Cullen knew he was not the only one; he was merely a figurehead, an easy target for them to make an example of, just like Evelyn had been for the Exalted Council.

She had given the world everything, but it was never enough. They betrayed her in the end, just as Solas had, so when Evelyn disbanded the Inquisition in her bitterness, Cullen had only felt relief. If she had ever needed to put herself first, it was then. Without the Anchor, the incredible mana reserve she had grown accustomed to, Evelyn was left frail and weak.

The clinic had been a simple ‘what if’ Cullen had errantly considered when he learned just how many other Templars had chosen the same path. And when he and Evelyn were left standing there, alone and adrift, on the marble steps to the Winter Palace, he knew what he needed to do for himself as much as for Evelyn.

The Battered Shield had been good for her; allowed her to adjust and put the pieces of herself back together in some capacity. It had taken time, but eventually, she was ready to go home.

The two-story cottage was unpretentious, simple, and most importantly, theirs. They had built it from afar, and only Cullen had seen it before moving in because of Evelyn’s condition. He smiled to himself as he thought back to when she first laid eyes on the homestead, recalling peace and contentment that had filled her. There was still some unpacking to do. Nine or so crates lined the half-wall that separated the large open room that served as a den and dining area from the kitchen. They would get around to it; there was plenty of time.

Cullen washed his hands before making breakfast. They had some aged cheddar and leftover biscuits from the day before, so he decided to fry up some bacon. A little of everything went in Dante’s bowl along with a slice of salted beef, then Cullen made a sandwich for himself and one for his wife. He set hers on the table.

Standing in front of the large window that faced the lake in the kitchen, Cullen ate and watched color bleed back into the world as dawn broke. Light sparkled through the low fog creeping across the black waters. The trees standing sentinel became grey-green; the sky a motley of hues. Part of him wished Ev was awake to greet the day with him, but the other part was more than pleased she was still sleeping. He could get the morning chores taken care of, then spend time with her putting their belongings away.

Outdoors, wind sighed through the tree branches and ruffled his hair as Cullen walked to the stables. It smelled of winter. Perhaps another flurry was on its way. The horses were already awake, but Cullen refilled the water tank and set out the hay before letting them out of their stalls. His lean, umber stallion lipped his palm before making its way outside with the workhorses. A little farther down, Evelyn’s destrier, the large grey creature with eerie red eyes, snorted impatiently.

Once the door opened, its ears turned forward, but it didn’t exit. Cullen stroked the horse’s neck, thinking on how Evelyn never got to see her father before he passed. Josephine had felt personally responsible for it because she had requested the visit be postponed so Evelyn could travel and personally thank the Inquisition’s allies.

Immediately after it happened, the tour was canceled so she could at least go pay her respects at the gravesite in Ostwick. The only silver lining to the situation was her two surviving brothers had insisted upon making amends. They wrote often, and had supplied the workhorses and the wagons for their move; even refused their coin though the charge would not have stunted he and Evelyn financially in any way.

Eventually, Shadow exited his stall and headed down to the water’s edge. A moment later it raised its head and looked back toward the house. The only clouds in the sky rose from the chimney. Like him, the creature seemed to have a sixth sense about Evelyn. Cullen could always tell when she woke. His mind felt sharper; his perceptions more defined then they had ever been on lyrium. He felt awake.

If it were warmer, she would break her fast on the back porch. Let the landscape swallow her up. Breathe in the fresh air mixed in with the scents of earth and grass and flowers and wood like she had the first time he brought her there. Cullen had a sudden urge to go to her, to check on her, but he set it aside. It wouldn’t be much longer until he was finished.

After he was done cleaning out the stalls, Cullen set out the horses’ food and went to chop wood. The builders had left a monstrous pile of neatly stacked logs by the house ready for splitting. There was more than enough space in the shed for storage, so he planned to keep it full at all times in case he got injured or fell ill for any amount of time during the winter. But for now, Cullen decided to split just enough to replenish what they had used since yesterday.

The ax had just come down, splitting the wood with a crack, when he heard a faint crash from inside. His heart picked up speed, and his thoughts raced even as he knew she was fine.

Inside, Cullen set the ax down by the back door and found her standing where he had eaten earlier. Dante was at her side and if a mabari could look concerned, concerned he was indeed.

Evelyn stopped absently scratching Dante’s ear and waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a plate,” she said.

But it was more than that, and they both knew it.

“How was breakfast?” Cullen asked, washing his hands. He made note of the pitcher of water with some lemon and elfroot submersed in it out on the counter top.

“It was good, thank you.”

He smiled, taking a step back to pluck the hand towel off the countertop behind him and a chunk of plate crunched under his boot.

“I swear it went everywhere when I dropped it. There’s probably pieces upstairs somehow,” Evelyn said with a laugh. It was still a little watery despite her efforts. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t pick it up; I tried.”

“Like you said, it was just a plate, but you shouldn’t be walking around barefoot until it’s cleaned up,” he said, tossing the rag aside so he could cup her cheek and feel the ample swell of her stomach. The life growing inside her shifted and stretched at the contact. There was no stopping the grin that spread across the face nor the joy in his heart.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Evelyn said, finally smiling, bright and honest, as she placed her hand atop his. “Maybe tonight if we’re lucky.”

Cullen ran his fingertips along the thin chain around her neck, following it down to his coin. He held it between finger and thumb, feeling the familiar grooves. Mia and her family were staying out in the original cabin that now served as a small guest house while the rest of their friends and family that insisted on being around to help were staying at The Gallivanting Golem nearby in Honnleath.

“When it’s time, it’s time,” he said, leaning down to brush their mouths together.

What Cullen had went far beyond luck; it was everything he never expected from life or ever dared hope for. It was that something more he longed to be part of and it was perfect.

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #evelyn isla trevelyan #my writing #mdcwrites #feathers & fur #I finished a thing #finally #never thought I would tbh #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #thanks to those of you who gave it a chance

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muthary · 5 years

Text

Photosyntheticfox’s Questionnaire // PART 2

31. What do they identify as?

Genderfluid.

32. Do they have any allergies?

Nope! Nothing worth noting, except for maybe a plain response to seasonal pollens native to Vesuvia. That fades the longer they spend in Vesuvia though. Side note: they never just sneeze once, and hold their sneezes in. So when they sneeze, it sounds like tiny squeaks and their whole body jumps.

33. Do they have any other medical problems?

Just that they wear glasses! Such light eyes aren’t fit for the Vesuvian sun. They magic themselves better vision most of the time, but they definitely own frames.

34. What about mental health issues?

They show signs of depression, but not much else. It’s light after their revival because a lot of their trauma was forgotten.

35. What’s that personal hygiene regimen like?

Baths in the nighttime, sometimes midday, always with herbs, oils, and salts. They enjoy soaking in hot water and always wash their hair pretty frequently. They do shave and pluck their eyebrows, but usually on days blocked out for general self-care. Their hair takes up a lot of their time because of the braiding, plaiting, and hair jewelry. They brush their teeth and toothbrushes get replaced pretty frequently because of their heavy hand and sort of sharp teeth. They make their own soaps and body oils!

36. Favorite rock or gemstone?

Probably clear quartz for is universal use. Rose quartz as a close second because it’s pretty and helps them calm down.

37. Favorite tree?

Alder!

38. Favorite type of weather?

Quiet, crisp, misty mornings. The quiet sort where the fog is sort of thick and is good to hide in. During that sort of weather, anyone would have a hard time tracking Diorbhail down, since they’ll be the first person out on a day like that. If they could have it their way, there would be whole days like this, and they’d be the only person around for miles.

39. Least favorite type of weather?

Violent snowstorms.

40. What is their favorite season? (remember winter is summer and spring is fall)

They hated getting used to Vesuvian seasons. To keep their head from spinning, they still maintain that their favorite season is autumn, or at least when the weather is more on the cold side than the hot side, when the leaves change color, and when it’s time for Samhain.

41. How many languages could they speak before the memory loss? How many do they currently speak?

For ease, before the memory loss, they could speak “common” (the language everyone in Vesuvia seems to speak), gaeilge, and old norse. Gaeilge is only really spoken by the aos sí these days. After the memory loss, they still speak “common”, and because Asra attempted to reteach them their native languages from old books they had in those languages (as someone who could not understand a lick of any of them), Diorbhail has shaky, but sort of instinctual grasp on those other two languages. They can’t carry a conversation like they used to, but they’ll still use runes.

42. Do they sing or play any instruments?

They have a very soft, tremulous sort of voice that they used to sing old songs from their home country. Poetic Edda and old folk songs are what they’re good at. They’ve got a good voice for lullabies! As for instruments, they play an ocarina and a fiddle. The talent for the ocarina sprouted from the time they spent playing with reed whistles in the forest.

43. What do they tend to joke about?

Nothing much. Sarcasm tends to rely on other people to work. They do like to tell old folktales and laugh about them because who on Earth thought that putting on a hat backward would keep you from getting taken away by fairies!

44. After a stressful day how do they relax?

A bath, incense, and a nap until they wake up near midnight, get a snack or a drink, and fall right back asleep!

45. Guilty pleasures?

They collect bones-- Animals bones, that is. Sometimes they’ll buy them, sometimes they’ll find in the forest already cleaned, sometimes they’ll visit a rotting corpse until it’s done decomposing and they can clean the bones left behind. Their room holds their collection. They’re used to odd looks whenever it’s somehow brought up, so they don’t ever discuss it with anyone. A bit more acceptable but still something they don’t like sharing: they have stuffed animal parts they keep, like tails and a rabbit paw. For charm reasons. The coyote tail and pelt they have on their person are things they made.

46. idiosyncrasies?

They can wriggle their ears without using their hands or changing their facial expressions! They also seem to be a very disorganized person but in a mess of random stuff, they know where every single thing is, or at least it’s general location. They notice the smallest bug or animal no matter where it is, as if they can hear the little larvae beneath the dirt as they wriggle around. They have a habit of staring, sometimes at people, sometimes at barren corners, and they space out while doing this. Lastly, they’ve got no issue with gore.

47. How do they act when they first meet someone new? How quickly do they warm up to them?

At first, they’re quiet, observant, and very careful. Since they tend to have impeccable instinct, they’ll decide whether they want to continue talking to someone within the first couple minutes of speaking to them. If they decide they sense something off or annoying about someone, they’ll become terribly passive-aggressive and prickly to drive them off. If they decide someone is worth keeping around, they’ll enjoy friendly conversation, but it’ll take months or a year before they’re comfortable with a hug. Of course, there are outliers, but this is the general pattern they go through. Once they’re close enough to someone, they’re a big proponent of physical affection.

48. In what order would they prioritize Love, fame, money, power, and knowledge?

Knowledge, love, power, money, fame.

49. List four or more things they love to do

Sleep, nature walk/explore, forage in the woods, sculpt, weave, and read.

50. List four or more things they hate to do

Go to crowded places (this includes parties), argue with people, speak or sing in front of a large group of people, or organize themself according to someone else’s standards.

51. List five or more things they have said that sum up who they are

“Julian, you’ve got three seconds to get off your sorry arse before I haul you up myself.”

“I’ve grown real sick and tired of running around for others all the damn time.”

“I’m fine. Stop asking.”

“You can always choose your family.”

“Of course he’s bitter. Who would like coming back as a shriveled, hideous old goat man who’s missing an arm? Although, I suppose it isn’t much different from how he was in life.”

“Keep staring at me like that and I’ll show you how savage I can be.”

52. How do they react to (both verbal and physical) conflict?

Verbal conflict they don’t care for. They’d rather avoid it because it’s always a lot of hot air flying about. Physical conflict they’ll avoid as well, but if they must be involved, they won’t lose. They’re a bundle of brute force and stubbornness.

53. What kind of bad habits to they have?

They mumble to themself when doing everyday things and bite their nails when they’re nervous or just idle.

54. What kind of character faults do they have?

They’re stubborn and unwilling to accept help, especially for things involving their personal life. They’re also self-sacrificial and can be very rude for the sake of ending a conversation immediately, or keeping someone from getting too invested in them. In very specific situations, when they begin to see red, they don’t listen to anyone and may even lash out at anyone who may stand in their way, even if they only intend to bring Diorbhail back down to earth before they can hurt themself.

55. What’s their best trait in their opinion?

That they aren’t dependent on others. This is a misperception of themself though, since they do sometimes need others so they don’t self-destruct.

56. What do they think of their appearance?

They think they’re the most drab thing out there. If you said they were cute, they’d instantly deny and change the subject. They don’t like talking about themself. They also get a little self-conscious about their scars when someone points them out.

57. How do they interact with people in a position of authority?

Very tentatively, but they never show belly. If they deem that this person is a moron and undeserving of their authority, they’ll quickly begin acting defiantly and coldly. They never follow someone’s orders blindly.

58. Who did they look up to as a kid?

A curious fellow named Buile Suibhne. He healed their wounds when they were a child, and taught them to hunt and steal and listen to the trees.

59. How do they interact with kids?

They're quite motherly! Very patient and playful with children. They’ll tell stories and teach them new things, too, like weaving or writing or natural correspondences.

60. Do they want kids of their own someday?

They worry if they’d make a good parent, but one day they might like a child. Two at the most. They sort of flip flop between daydreaming of a distant future and being convinced they’d ruin their child so they should just die an old, lonely crone.

61. Are they religious? If so what god/goddess or gods/goddesses do they worship?

They’ve interacted personally with the entities they pay their respects too, so yes. A lot of their magic is done with specific correspondences to spirits and gods, and they celebrate sabbats in the name of their corresponding deity. They worship Celtic and Norse gods, and reference them plenty whenever they feel that those gods are near.

62. What do they think the meaning of life is?

Just to exist. There is no ultimate goal to life. It’s just to exist and be a part of nature as you would.

63. What would they want their last words to be?

“We’ll meet each other again. Take care of yourself.”

64. What do they want to do before they die?

Return home to the forest they grew up in.

65. What/how do they want to be remembered for after they die?

A kind friend. A free spirit. Aside from this, they wouldn’t mind being forgotten.

66. How do they express affection?

In small gifts, in taking others needs into account, or in physical affection like hugs and kisses to the cheek or forehead.

67. What do they normally eat for breakfast?

Nothing! But if anything, bread and juice. They like a good croissant in the morning.

68. Do they like spicy food?

Yeah! They put hot sauce over their rice. You couldn’t really get spicy food where they’re from, so Vesuvia really opened their eyes to spice. They’re immune to capsaicin now.

69. Favorite fruit and or vegetable?

Diorbhail’s favorite fruit is a banana! Again, they only got to try one after getting to Vesuvia. Their favorite vegetable is a carrot.

70. Do they like sweets?

Yeah! They’re sorta picky about what sweets they eat, though.

#apprentice:diorbhail #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana mc #fan apprentice

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altughuner-blog · 5 years

Photo

Whistler was my introduction to Canada. I landed in Vancouver late evening and headed straight to the village. This route is famously called sea to the sky as it takes you from coast to a hilltop. I will admire the beauty of this route on my return to Vancouver a couple of days later.

Late night I checked into my luxury resort – The Fairmont Chateau Whistler hotel, nestled in a perfect Alpine setting. In the morning, I woke up to the perfect snow setting. It was the beginning of winter and snowfall season in early November. As I sat down to have my breakfast, I remember the layer of soft snow on furniture and trees from the restaurant window. Like a picture postcard, the image would stay in my mind.

Things to do at Whistler Canada

Etymology of Whistler

The village gets its name from the call of Hoary Marmot – a kind of large squirrel that is found here. The other contender for the name of this lovely valley was ‘London’. I like the name from a local species.

Ziplining Tour at Whistler Canada

My first activity was to go Ziplining. I walked to the town center, that had typical hill architecture with tall sloping wooden roofs, surrounded by snow as it was softly falling all around.

Ready for Ziplining

When I stood on top of the mountain with another hilltop across the river that was almost frozen, I was scared, to say the least. Thankfully, I had bought my International Travel Insurance Online for any emergency. However, that was would still not give me the courage to step into the air and zip across the mountain over a Gorge.

Read my detailed post on Ziplining in Canada

Having done it, I would always remember what I saw from the top. It was definitely worth it.

Peak to Peak Gondola Ride

An easier option to see the mountain tops is to take the Peak2Peak Gondola ride. You get wonderful views of the mountains around including the famous Blackcomb mountains. If you are lucky, you might spot some bears in the hills.

I had to choose between Ziplining and Gondola ride and I chose the former. I did see the Gondolas moving around from town.

Museums in Whistler Canada

You know I am a museum junkie. I knew there are two important museums I have to see in the village.

Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Center

Displays at Squamish Lilwat Center

This cultural center celebrating the aboriginal culture of Squamish and Lilwat tribes that lived in the region is a delight. It introduces you to the aboriginal culture through different artifacts like masks, totem poles. costumes, boats, folk stories and music on a guided tour. Towards the end of the tour, you can get weave yourself a bracelet from Cedarwood.

Read More – Aboriginal Culture of British Columbia

This was my first introduction to the aboriginal or First Nations culture of Canada. More importantly, I learned about the efforts being done to keep the culture alive. I would keep discovering the different aspects of it throughout my trip to British Columbia. At the souvenir shop & café, I had my lunch, while admiring the range of souvenirs with aboriginal ethos woven into them.

Audain Art Museum

Wooden screen used for theatrical performances by First Nations

Audain Art Museum is a very modern museum in design, though its displays take you for a walk from the past to the near past. A guided tour of the Audain Art Museum introduced me the celebrated artist Emily Carr. Her works showcasing the totem poles were potentially the first triggers for the revival of First Nations art. I would later see her statue in Victoria BC.

Emily Carr painting showing Totem Poles

A must see work here is a giant wooden screen with aboriginal motifs used for theatre performances. You also get to see contemporary expressions of the old motifs in this museum like a totem pole made with backpacks.

Pile of Copper Glasses at Audain Museum

A pile of Copper glasses reminded me of the evolution of human civilization as the metals became available to us, becoming an integral part of our lives.

I picked up the first of my Canada Souvenirs from the museum shop – A colorful totem pole fridge magnet.

Whistler Museum

Rainbow Lodge scene depicted in the Museum

This is a rather small museum that focuses on things like sports connection of the village and the evolution of Ski here. The village, as you know, was the venue for the 2010 Winter Olympics.

It is a small museum but suits the size of the village it showcases.

Village Walk

Village Square scene

I love walking around places. This is my way of being a participant observer, you see the outsiders interact with the locals and a kind of osmosis happening.

The village is a remarkably walkable village. There is really no need for any kind of transportation if the weather permits.

Public Library

Libraries are another weakness. I spent a few precious minutes in the public library as I reached it tiptoeing through the snowfall all around. It is a lovely library – quite big for a small village. There are some displays around that you can see.

Whistler Ski Town

Now, the town is best known for being a Ski Town. In fact, it was discovered as a place to Ski and continues to be a favorite Ski destination. However, my timing for Ski was little offbeat as it has just started snowing. So, I could only see the mountains and slopes that bring Ski lovers here.

It reminded me of my trip to Poland on a Schengen travel countries schedule, I visited Zakopane, which is a popular Ski destination and I saw that too in the offseason for Ski. I came back admiring its architecture and cheese.

For more details on Skiing, check out the official tourism website.

Around Village

Lost Lake Walk

The Lost Lake snowclad landscape scene

Lost Lake is a lovely lake not too far from the village. I wanted to walk around the lake, having seen the lovely images of the same. However, the constant snowfall made it impossible for me to walk. I did manage to drive down to the lake and walk about 200 meters in the snow to see the lake that looked like a giant black spot surrounded by water.

I had my magical moments with snow all around – on trees, benches, around the lake as it was falling softly and settling down. It was like walking into a dream sequence with nothing but nature all around me.

During summers, the colors would be different and so would be the walk around the lost lake.

Spa in the Hills

Now, I am not new to spa experiences. However, this one at the village would leave me stunned. Imagine surrounded by snow all around and sitting in a hot water spring. Top it with a dip in the ice-cold water before you sit in a steam room surrounded by tall cedar trees. This is what I experienced one late evening at Scandinave Spa in Whistler which is one of the many Spas the village has.

Winter landscape as seen on a drive at Whistler Canada

I still remember walking into the Spa area with many big and small open pools. Most of these had reasonably hot water and few the ice-cold water that you could also call normal temperature in that weather.

Again, no photography is allowed but the experience is worth it after a long adventurous day. It helped me sleep well, despite my jet lag.

Events to look forward to

Being a tourist village is home to many events around the year. When I visited it in November, Whistler Cornucopia – a food and drinks festival was on. As a vegetarian Teetotaller, I skipped this festival. Rest of the year too, there are some event or the other on to keep the visitors engaged. Do check out the schedule when you visit.

Hotels & Resorts in Whistler Canada

Whistler is a resort village. The shuttle buses from Vancouver or Vancouver airport would drop you at the doorstep of your hotel.

Most hotels are located close enough to the village to walk to the village. My hotel was about a kilometer away and they had a regular shuttle to pick and drop their guest from the town every 15 mins or so. They were also kind enough to give me a ride to the lost lake.

So, even when you do not Ski, there is a lot that you can do in this small Canadian village. I was all set to explore the rest of British Columbia with my next stops at Vancouver and Victoria BC.

The post Whistler Canada – Things To Do In Ski Town Of British Columbia appeared first on Inditales.

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ravenwritesstuff · 7 years

Text

Wandering Hearts (19/?)

Fandom: Frozen AU. Set after shipwreck but before coronation day. 17th Century. Pairing: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna) Rating: M (feelings and stuff) A/N: Sorry ‘bout this.

DON’T DO IT

[ part one ] [ part two ] [ part three ] [ part four ] [ part five ] [ part six ] [ part seven ] [ part eight ] [ part nine ] [ part ten ] [ part eleven ] [ part twelve ] [ part thirteen ] [ part fourteen ] [ part fifteen ] [ part sixteen ] [ part seventeen ] [ part eighteen ]

He sleeps. She does not. Her body and mind are too confused to rest. It is near midday but it could be the middle of the night for all she knew. Her five day slumber has left her as confused as the way this man, her husband, holds her now.

Is it for comfort, she wonders? If so, comfort against what: the cold or to quiet his worries that she will run yet again while he is incapable of pursuit? She considers it as she lays there. She could escape before the next snow falls. By the time he is able to track her - her trail will be long buried. She knows the area better now, has her bearings, if she can make it to the pass before it closes -

He shifts closer in sleep, arm tightening around her waist, and she feels the constriction mirror in her chest.

Is this love? She is uncertain. Love has never been something plain and easy in her life. She had loved her parents, her sister, but had known better than to expect anything in return.

The south has nothing for me. She had said. Everything I need is here.

It had not been a lie, but though the north is more a home than anything she has ever experienced it can hold nothing for her either. It is too dangerous for her, for him, and if this is love - well. She does not know exactly what that means, but she is fairly certain it means not putting your loved one in the direct line of potential downfall.

She wants to stay.

She needs to leave.

Her chest squeezes once more in an aching tightness she knows will not fade with time. No matter where she is, where she goes, whatever she decides, whenever she thinks of him she will feel this exquisite tension. She will feel the the tug of his heart where it is bound to hers with every step, every beat, every breath until she dies.

She could take him with her. They could run together, but how to explain the shadows that loom around her every corner without destroying what they have? How can she compel him without compromising him? He cannot know who she is. That she knows, but also they cannot stay here forever.

But perhaps until the spring.... The idea is comforting and for the first time in her life she hopes for a long, bitter winter.

She will be his winter bird, staying through the darkness and the cold to bring him a promise of something more, and when the thaws come she will fly with him alongside her. She has the entire season to devise a plan.

The idea brings her peace.

She settles into his arms, her nest for this season, and thinks as she drifts away how funny it is to let love bloom in such a season of death.

….

She wakes when he stirs. The fire is low. She thinks perhaps he is cold and begins to roll from his grasp to revive the fire but his arm stays her. She turns head over her shoulder to see him watching her. He is close enough that she can feel the breath of his mouth ruffle the short hairs on her neck.

“You’re awake.” She says the obvious, unable to think past her thundering heart at his proximity. She remembers a similar conversation not more than a day ago

“Yes.” He says, putting pressure on her hip and turning her towards him. She allows her body to follow through the motion with no resistance till she is face to face with him - only inches separating them

“You must be in pain.” She takes in the planes of his face, the mottled bruises forming and bloodstains she had not quite managed to clean off. “Tell me what to fetch, how to prepare it, and I will for you.”

She wants to stroke his brow. She wants to smooth away the matted hair and rust but she keeps her hands clasped at her breast.

“The pain will pass.” She feels his hand spread across her back, keeping her close as his eyes scour her features. “I just needed to see your face. I needed to see with my own eyes that you were here and unharmed.”

She feels a flush rise from her center at his words at the same time as niggling worry. His skin is still so pale beneath his roughness. The depth of his eyes is clouded by the injuries he has sustained. She knows if she touches his face she will encounter the clammy heat of fever.

“I am here. I am well.” She casts her eyes downward, uncertain how to compensate for the feelings welling up within her at his nearness - the blistering heat that compels her to move even closer.

“You are here.” She notices a wonder in his tone previously unheard. “I do not know why you are here.”

Her hands leave her chest and press to his. Her burned hand strains against the thickened flesh of her scarred palm. She does this as much to ensure her distance as his comfort. He is solid beneath her touch. The leather of his kofte is soft and her breath hitches at the mix of sensations.

She thinks of revealing her plan for migration - the extent of her feelings - the intensity of the tattoo that her heart pounds into her every breath - but she won’t. It is not the proper time.

Instead: “I am here. I am here with you.”

She sees the wash of confusion and relief across his broad features and she is reminded of the previous time she observed him this closely in the cave. His freckles are more prominent now than ever and she can easily count them all. She can easily lean in and kiss him. She doesn’t.

“You are,” his voice holds a note of disbelief. “You are here with me. But why?”

She stares at his mouth as he speaks. She does not mean to, but cannot help it. The shape of his question pulls his mouth into an unfamiliar curl.

“You need rest.” The directness of his inquiry leaves her flustered and she deflects accordingly. “You need to eat. Let me make you something.”

His expression darkens at her evasion. “I am not hungry.”

“Surely you are.” She continues to steer the topic away from the question. “Surely there is something that you want.”

“Yes. There is.” He says but she can tell from his expression all too well that food is not the subject. Her cheeks flame anew. “I want to know why you are here.”

It is not a question this time but it demands an answer. She does not know how to say what he needs to hear.

“You are unwell.” She presses against his chest but he does not release her. She did not expect him to, did not want him to. “Your mind is troubled.”

“And you can ease it.” His eyes are pleading, almost frenzied. “You are here. Trygve and Magni spoke to you but you stayed.”

Magni - Large Leader - one in the same. Still she does not understand what could have been said that would compel her to leave

“Of course I stayed.” She can feel his heart hammering beneath her palms, mirroring her own.

“But why?”

His eyes are wide and watchful even as they are troubled with pain and she has to look away. The urgency is overwhelming. She squirms in his hold, flattened palms clenching at his chest as she fights against the devastatingly strong impulse she has to run. She knows now what he wants to hear, knows that he has read it on her glass face, but she cannot form the words to speak. It is too much.

“Because, you oaf,” she can hear the quaver in her voice even as she struggles to remain composure - her insult soft and unable to harm. “I am your wife. No word of man can change that.”

It is not precisely what he wants, but it is all she can give. She continues to squirm - wanting to be free, needing to be close. It had been so much simpler when they slept, when her back had been to his face and she could not feel the burn of his gaze sweep her expression. His silence in the face of her answer offers no comfort either. The imbalance between them brought forth by his questions leaves her feeling shaky and troubled. Unbearable energy swells beneath her skin and she needs to move away from him, needs to gain perspective.

“Let me go so I can tend to your needs.” Her fists press his chest, and he releases his hold around her back but only to bring his hand up to catch behind her neck.

She looks up just in time to see him close the distance between their faces, to feel his mouth claim hers. She stiffens on a breath even as her lips soften to accommodate his. Her eyes fall shut. The fists at his chest open only to clamp into the leather of his kofte - keeping him close. His mouth opens over hers, wide and fervent, and she thinks of blood.

She remembers his blood on linen sheets, of his blood in the snow, of his blood on her face - and she thinks of her own needs. She remembers that without her - his blood would have not been shed in this way. She thinks of limits and what colors they take. She thinks of his limits are all the color red: blood, desire. Hers are all the color blue: fear, pain. Red and blue: the colors of the veins in her wrist. Red and blue: the colors you mix to make royalty.

He shifts closer and derails her thoughts. His body is longer, larger, than hers in every way. The press of it against her could terrify, but instead she feels a sort of sanctuary in his embrace. The hand in her hair, behind her neck, slides down her arm, to her back and draws her against him. They lay on their sides, pressed together at every point, but it is still not enough. She can sense the desire for more reverberate in the imperceptible space between them.

She thinks to turn and haul him atop her and simply let his weight crush her into blissful oblivion. She thinks maybe if she cannot breathe she will not be able to consider the implications of breath, of living. She will fade away and there will be nothing but him and her and the crescendo she feels building within.

He pulls back before she can instigate her endeavor. Her eyes open to find his clamped shut, body trembling in her grip. The sallow tone of his cheeks raises alarm. His needs, hers, have taxed him beyond himself.

“You are my wife.” His breath is short again, too rapid and shallow even for pleasure. “You are my wife.”

He opens his eyes long enough for her to see that a new dullness has entered there. Whatever bright moment of lucidity had struck in his tormented body it fades now to yield to his damage.

“I am.” Tears heat the backs of her eyes. “I am.”

He resists the drooping of his lids as if he is fighting against his fate, but he does not win. His hand goes limp against her back and she knows the sleep of injury has sucked him back into its depths. She rests her forehead against his.

“I am your wife. I will protect you as you have protected me.”

She wraps an arm around him and holds him close as they both sleep in a bed she had never imagined sharing.

….

There are no windows in the cabin, a fact she laments inwardly but understands now. The cost of glass and the impracticality of it to withstand the heat of summer or the cold of winter is something she never considered in the palace. Thus when she wakes again, pressed up against him in the cradle of his arms, she has no easy way of knowing if it is night or day. All she knows is that his wounds, his body, needs attention that she cannot provide by sleeping alongside him.

She manages to extract herself from his hold inch by inch until she is out of the bed and free.

He is a large man, but as she surveys him on the bed she has occupied now for months, she sees him for what he truly is. Despite his size he is a man reduced and controlled by things she cannot understand. The words she has heard spoken of him have never directly addressed his standard or character - only the implications of his origin. It is as if no one cared to measure his worth by anything but his birth, and an arrow of sympathy pierces her at that realization. She knows that birthright all too well.

She remembers the way Large Leader, Magni as she knows now, had interrogated her after the blade Bjarg had bestowed upon her. Magni’s interest had gone far beyond general curiosity and she knows now to keep the blade concealed unless the circumstances were beyond dire. Still…. What had Bjarg thought that Magni and Trygve would say to make her leave? What secrets had he hidden in their mutual silence that he found so offensive about himself that he had never disclosed?

She cannot ask these things despite the fact that he has pressed up against her walls with a persistence she could only help but admire. She cannot ask these things because he does not wake. If he had been in any state to waken - he would have at her movement. She is not graceful no matter the efforts she puts forth to keep him resting. A part of her, a selfish part, desires him wake and unearth what he has buried and lay it in front of her.

She has admitted weakness in claiming him again as her helpmate. She cannot help but greedily want the same confirmation of vulnerability.

She does not wake him though, not even in the long minutes it takes for her to restore and establish a fire worthy to warm the small space. She labors till sweat trickles down her spine beneath her clothes. It is only when she is satisfied that the heat is a sufficient replacement for her own warmth against him that she heads out of doors.

She does not linger to watch the way the light of the flames dance over his face. She does not allow her feelings to dictate her course of actions. There are things to be done and he needs her now to be as strong and reliable as he has been for her.

She tries to recall all the elements he had gathered for the healing paste that had righted her hands. There had been clay, and calendula, and licorice root, but the remaining ingredients escape her - wash away on the memory of another kiss. She blushes at the thought, at the way he had held her in the bed just now, and tries to focus. She hopes she can remember enough to aid him.

The sky is gray with morning light and she thinks that fortunate. She can restart her waking existence to the tempers of the universe. Her steps towards the shed are bolder than she feels. There is so much that Bjarg does every day that she does not know to do, has never been shown. She hopes she will be an adequate surrogate until his revival on top of her duty to care for him.

It is a bitter morning. The cold bites into her face as she crosses the few feet from the house to the shed. She is greeted by the bray of a hungry reindeer and the squawk of half a dozen unsatisfied chickens. Guilt rises in her chest. Bjarg never would have let these animals go unattended.

She lights the lantern by the door and head to work. She goes first to feed the creatures and then grabs to pitchfork she had first been taught to use those several months to go. Sven’s stall needs mucking.

She finds the procedure to not be nearly the trial it had been the first time. It requires effort, but without the strain of broken ribs and with the strength added to her over days of intention she finds herself not only surviving the circumstances but succeeding at them. By the time she has mucked out the reindeer’s stall she is sweating despite the cold. The feed she had given him and the chickens is mostly gone now.

“Here you go.” She says as she offers the animals extra, restitution for previous inadequacies, when she hears the door open.

He presses a shoulder into the door frame, face as white as the world outside, and her heart leaps at the sight.

“You should be abed.” Her mind races at the unexpected sight of him. “You should not be up.”

“There are things to be done.” He says with no enthusiasm. If he had not been bolstered by the solidity of the door jam she knows he would falter.

“I am doing them. What you must do is rest - recover.”

He scoffs a laugh. “There is no recovery for the likes of me.”

She does not understand, is too alarmed to consider asking for an answer.

“You are unwell. Tell me what I must bring to aid you.” She tries to not look to where his pant leg has crusted over the boot - hard with blood - but still notices he puts no weight upon it.

“I will fetch what I need.”

“But I am here to help you.”

“You do not know what is needed.

Anger flares at his indifference.

“Then tell me, you stubborn man!”

If he had not been braced by the structure of the shed he may have wavered, but he stays steady. She can see the sweat of effort bead his forehead, his nose, his cheeks just in the endeavor of standing. For a moment she thinks he will do nothing beyond stand there and stare at her, arms crossed hard over his chest.

Then: “Root of comfrey, garlic, clay dust and calendula.”

She begins her search immediately. The shed is primarily used for the storage of barrels of ale and the animals, but she is capable of searching for the necessary elements to prepare the aid to his healing. She finds the proper jars of dried plants, his mortar and pestle, and is rummaging for the bricks of clay she would break and grind as the base of the paste when she notices something new. If she had not looked back in the shadowy corner she would have missed it entirely, but now it is all she can see. She sets her things aside on a nearby shelf and goes to investigate.

There, in the shadows, draped to cover something she finds a tapestry so intricate and fine she is transported back to the palace for a breath. It is a rich mix of reds, blues, and yellows so bright they almost shimmer all expertly twined together to create shapes of trees and mountains, rivers and valleys. Anna is so taken with the beauty of it she can hardly care for whatever lays hidden beneath it.

“I have never seen this before.” She runs reverent fingertips along the design.

“It has not been meant to be seen.”

Questions of why die in her throat as she lifts it with careful hands to admire it more closely only to find another work of painstaking craftsmanship lying beneath it.

It is a large chest made of wood and hinged with leather. Across the top is etched an intricate scroll work that looks like ribbons have been woven into the surface, bending at sharp right angles, to form a sort of complex diamond. She knows this symbol, had studied it in ancient traditions at the palace. It is Yggdrasil: the world tree of pagan tradition, but it is incomplete. The center is unfinished, left smooth and bare, and she wonders.

“What is this?” She motions towards the chest, the inscription, not understanding just what she sees.

“I made it for you. It is yours.” He explains the meaning of the chest, but not the carving. “I realized that if you were - if you are to - if you stay - you should have your own place for to hold your belongings.”

The way he stumbles over his words reminds her of earlier times. Of all the times he tried to explain himself without revealing anything. Of all the things that still go unspoken between the two of them.

She kneels before the box. The heavy tapestry rests on her lap. She runs her hands over the carved surface of the wooden lid sealed smooth with bee’s wax until her fingers land on the untouched center.

“There is nothing here.” She looks over her shoulder to where he stands, speaking in their learned language of asking questions through statements. “It is unfinished.”

He holds her gaze. “That is where I will carve your name. I will carve your name there.”

The conviction in his voice sends sparks down her spine and she knows he is just waiting for her to give him that truth. He is waiting and will wait till she is prepared, but he will also lean. He will lean and lean and lean and she feels the need to lean in return.

“And this?” She holds up the tapestry for his inspection as well as hers. It tumbles open further and she recognizes Arendelle in the scene. The weaver had captured Arendelle in their threads. Her hands shake. “Did you make this as well?”

She lowers it to her lap and turns where she sits to look at him. If possible he looks even paler than before.

He shakes his head. “That is my mother’s work.”

Any question she had of why the beautiful piece is not showcased on his walls, why it is hidden in shadows, is answered in that one sentence.

“She was a master weaver.” She says, certain.

“No.”

“But she must be. To command such a talent - to create such beauty -”

“My mother was many things but she was not a weaver.”

She stops short at that. His low tone makes it evident that he is not interested in elaborating on the things his mother was. She remembers Ketil’s warning, of Alva’s cryptic suggestion: Ask him about his mother. She feels bold questions burning on her tongue, but only one tumbles from her lips.

“What was your mother’s name?”

It is a simple question, but nothing about it is simple.

She feels his entire body - his entire spirit - go cold though he does not move. She knows she should not have asked, but she has just as much right to lean as he does. She has much right to ask questions as he does - even if his are not phrased as explicitly.

She expects him to bluster.

She expects him to limp out, to disappear, as their tradition dictates, but he remains.

He stands instead with clenched fists and jaw, looking at her with an enigmatic stare.

After a long silence she expects no answer and it is better that way. She breaks from his gaze to return her attention to the beautiful chest he has built for her, the complexity of the tapestry on her lap. Her fingers trace the dips and peaks of his carvings and though she wants it - she is startled by the sound of his reply.

“Ragna.” He says on a harsh breath. “My mother was called Ragna.”

The words seize her body and she freezes.

That was the name he had given her so many months ago. The implication of it swells and crashes upon the shores of her conscious. Of all the things he had given her; his word, his protection, his home; she knows this is the most precious gift. Even in this though, she knows he is not demanding compensation from her. He gives this because he wants her to have it. The ring on her finger burns.

“That is a beautiful name.” She presses her palm against the blank space, her own name burning her tongue.

She knows if she looks at him the sight of him will unravel truth she cannot feed him. He is braver than she is in every respect. He gives when she only takes and she wonders what it would feel like to upset that balance, but she cannot create compel her mouth to speak her name. It is a simple name. It is not difficult to speak, but still it chokes her.

“I’ll move it to the house when you tell me you want it.” He says as if he would carry it for her now if she asked, as if he could overcome his limitations just by willing it.

She knows it is not that simple: his healing, her speaking.

He must sense her hesitation, her discomfort, because he does not wait for her to break the silence. “I’ll heat water and prepare the bandages for when you return.”

He is gone before she has a chance to respond.

She traces the spot he has left for her name. Her fingers mark the shapes of the letters and she imagines what it would be like to tell him. She wonders what it would look to if she allowed him to finish it.

I do not know why you are here.

She had attributed his words to fever, to the blows to the head he had suffered, to leaning, but now she wonders if he had meant exactly what he had said. Why is she here?

She knows the answer as surely as she knows the beat of her own heart.

Love.

The love of him, the absence of her sister’s - that is why she is here. She wonders which is more cruel: to love this way or to not love at all?

She stands and replaces the tapestry over the chest, hiding the empty place as if that will make it disappear, but she knows it does not. Nothing ever will.

[ previous part ]

#wandering hearts #kristanna #kristoff #anna #frozen #frozen au #raven writes frozen #raven writes kristanna #not proof read

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nemesis-nexus · 5 years

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Darkest Greetings and Salutations My Family, how is everyone on this bright and breezy day? The events of this time are actually a triple shot for me as not only is it the Full Worm Supermoon and Equinox but also the 6th anniversary of my Walking the Ishtar Gate! So much has happened in the last six years, it’s been a literally life altering time that was not easy but was worth it as I have grown and evolved quite a bit thanks to the Ancient Family guiding me!

Tonight’s sermon is fairly short and to the point, so without any further ado:

Full Worm Supermoon and Vernal Equinox 2019

HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY! On this day the Wheel turns yet again and the Season of Rebirth triumphs over the Season of Death! With this a multitude of changes come sweeping across the landscape and what was hidden under the snow is now exposed and Ninhursag, our Blessed and Beautiful Mother Earth shows off her splendor in shades of green and blue! Flora and Fauna are once again buzzing with the activities of the bees as they begin their search for flowers to gather nectar from and to pollinate all the plant life! Fair warning for all those who suffer from pollen allergies, it’s supposed to be pretty bad this year so you may want to start preparing now!

Watching Nature just do what it’s done forever has always fascinated me; the lesson of the trees that lose their leaves in the Autumn yet stand strong in their barrenness during the Winter no matter how cold it gets or how much snow falls is a lesson for all of us to learn; life is not always easy and there are going to be times when it takes a lot out of us, when we feel that our “leaves” (our sanity) have been stripped, but if we stay the course and keep moving forward, we find that we not only have the inner power to overcome any obstacle, but like the trees, we emerge stronger and more vibrant for having not given up no matter how biting the chill may have been from having been buried under the drama and stress that comes from everyday life and especially from those times when it gets to be almost too much! Life is not easy, it is not meant to be, but without trials and such, there is no growth or evolution! This is the lesson of the trees, they lose their leaves year after year yet they never give up because they know that Spring will always come, they just have to be patient and so do we!

It’s not just the trees that change, deep under the once frozen Earth another change is occurring! The worms who lay dormant once again begin to wriggle around underground aerating the soil so that the roots of the trees can again receive the sustenance they need to regain their majestic statures and also so the grass can begin to emerge from its slumber to blanket the newly awakened Earth in a striking shock of green accented with a myriad of colors from the multitude of flowers that decorate the Natural World! The lesson of the worms is also something that we need to learn: life is not always about being in the spotlight, in fact like the worms whom we rarely see when they are at work, a lot of times we can accomplish more from behind the scenes! In other words, we don’t see the worms when they are going about their business, what we DO see is the end result of all their tireless toiling underground! We see the grass sprouting, the tree regenerating, the flowers blooming and deer grazing, just to name a few things! We see all this and yet rarely do we stop to acknowledge who it is that plays one of the BIGGEST roles in making it happen! The lesson is that if we all work together on any project, we can make amazing things happen and we don’t always have to be front and center! The lesson of the worms is humbleness and humility as well as supporting those whose time it is to take center stage, if only for a little while!

Today we celebrate the immortal beauty of Nature and the vast array of different forms of Life created! We stand in awe of its splendour as we contemplate all that we don't know and are humbled by all that we are privileged to observe and partake in! We respect that we are a part of in this never-ending dance between the Lord and Lady of the House!

The Dark Night of the Soul is a necessary time as well, it is the time for all of us to sit in quiet reflection of everything that has occurred not only in the last year but all throughout the course of our individual lives as well as the timeline of all things!

There are some things happening that can't be explained in the immediate situation however if we go backwards in time sometimes we can pinpoint when things were at their turning-point, these turning points can be good or bad depending on the situation! It is said that sometimes you need to go backwards in order to go forward and in these present times, I believe this is very much the case!

At this point in time it is not enough to ONLY focus on what is PRESENTLY happening, it is absolutely vital to look down the road and see where everything is headed! While no one can predict the future EVERYONE has the ability to use logic and reason to at the very least consider the possibilities! Some things are easier to determine than others, but we must always be prepared for anything!

It is during these times that we must remember who we are; we are the DEFENDERS, we are the PROTECTORS, we are the GUARDIANS who were created to oversee the environment and all it entails, we were created so that Life itself could continue to live and to maintain the Balance that exists between all aspects of Nature!

We are NOT here to elevate or exalt ourselves above the Natural Order, when we do this WE in fact create the Imbalance that causes MASSIVE amounts of Destruction to ALL things - including the Earth - and when this happens we need to step up and push back against those who would destroy everything in pursuit of personal agendas, instant gratification and temporary pleasure!

We have seen many horrific things take place even in the last year, we have seen our Mother Earth raped and ravaged repeatedly, we have seen her children of ALL species brutalized and thrown aside as though they didn't matter! We have seen the arrogance of the human ego put itself on a pedestal and glare condescendingly on all those down below!

When it comes to Protecting and Defending Nature and Life generally speaking it is imperative to know that everyone has it in them to be a Warrior for the Deity! A true Warrior does NOT fight because they hate what is in front of them, they fight because they love what is behind and beside them! Molded through years of trials, errors, setbacks, pressure and perseverance, they carry on NEVER surrendering no matter how stalwart the opposition! They do not fear death for they know there are fates which are MUCH WORSE! Every battle waged, every fort guarded, every life defended, every scar received are but testaments to the tenacious nature and unyielding Spirit of all those who walk this Path! When they lay their head down for the final sleep they have no need to fear the unknown for they know that they are already connected to the Deity and it is from him that they draw their Strength and it is to the Stars where they shall return, severed from their flesh vessels which go on through their own metamorphoses to maintain the flora and fauna by biodegrading and becoming food for them to thrive on!

The Caduceus was created by Enki and embodies the Balance of EVERYTHING in the Multiverse; Life and Death, Darkness and Light, Creation and Destruction. It was bequeathed unto NINGIZHEDA because he is the Guardian of the Gateways and as such NONE may pass beyond him in any direction without his permission and in many cases without his guidance! In the Descent of INANNA it was NINGIZHEDA who met her at every Gate and granted her passage. It was also NINGIZHEDA who revived her after the confrontation with ERESHKIGAL and helped her escape back to the Heavens! This cycle of Life, Death and Rebirth is also very much like the changing of the Seasons. When INANNA (ININNI/ISHTAR) descended it is comparable to Autumn as the further she went, the more she needed to leave behind, just like the further we go into Autumn the more Nature leaves behind (ie the leaves fall from the trees, the grass becomes suspended in the Earth, the herds hibernate or move on.) When she confronts ERESHKIGAL this is comparable to Winter because INANNA (ININNI/ISHTAR) did not actually die, like the Earth she also went into a form of suspended animation and when NINGIZHEDA revived her using the gifts given to him by ENKI is the heralding of the Spring or Season of Rebirth which is where we are now – the Vernal Equinox! The Season of Life is right around the corner which completes the Wheel and the Caduceus once again symbolizes the Balance and the reason why NINGIZHEDA who is the very essence of ALL Forces in the Multiverse both posing and opposing was charged with its maintenance and protection!

As Children of the Ancient Family it is our sworn duty to not only uphold the honor of our Family who gave us so much, but to do what needs to be done at the time it needs doing! To be a voice for the voiceless, to provide a place where people can go where they are free to express themselves without fear of reprisal and to think outside the box when it comes to matters of community and the Animal Kingdom! We are here to have a humanE experience by enjoying life to the fullest but also to stand up and fight for those who can’t fight for themselves - ie encouraging people to adopt from an animal shelter rather than a breeder, believe it or not this helps save COUNTLESS lives! We are here to remind everyone that human life is NOT the only life that matters and as such we need to respect ALL of Father’s creation, not just certain aspects of it! When we take our place in the Hoop of Life, what we are really doing is remembering who we are and why we are here!

“Vernal Equinox Prayer

Earth is the Mother who gives all manner of Life a Home!

Fire is the Passion that burns brightly from within and without!

Water is the Blood of Creation that exists in many interchanging states!

Air is the Breath of Life carried by all organisms great and small!

Heart is the strength that keeps us going when times get rough!

Spirit is the driving force behind all actions both Positive and Negative!

This night we say a verse for those we hold dear,

So that they will know happiness tonight and all year!

We acknowledge those who came before and held fast,

And forged on ahead to the future with bonds that will last!

The Darkness of ignorance can do insurmountable damage,

We are grateful for our Deity and Family who help us manage!

We give thanks to NINGIZHEDA who inspires us all,

For whom we stand up and will respond to his call!

The Wheel continues to turn bringing on more and more changes,

It is for us to adapt or die when the script rearranges!

Nothing in this Life is ever guaranteed,

But through hard work and effort our Spirits are freed!

The most important thing to remember is loyalty to Family,

No matter what happens, we are one even though we are many!”

ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!

MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INSENCE!

Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!

Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!

(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!

Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)

AVÉ THE ANCIENT FAMILY!

AVÉ IGGIGI! AVÉ ANUNNA!

AVÉ DRACONIS! HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!

HPS Meg “Nemesis Nexus” Prentiss

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wendyimmiller · 4 years

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Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

The exclamation point is, I assure you, fully justified. After three and a half weeks without the stuff and without piped water to my sunniest gardens, I had reached a point of exhaustion and had begun the process of separation.

Last year and the year before were the years to plant trees – and I did. But this year, I finally had time to put in the thuja hedge. Now it’s being kept on life support by milk jugs schlepped up from the creek. How wonderful that the crab grass and creeping charlie seem undaunted.

I know you are familiar with this gardener’s trick of self-preservation. Just stop looking at the things that upset you so that they in effect, disappear. My inherited 100ft Long Bed currently requires a machete, pith helmet and vaccine certificate to enter, but by simply turning my head left instead of right when I exit the back door, the issue is solved until winter takes a crack at it.

Douglas Adams wrote of something similar in his Hitchhiker’s series – advocating the use of a towel over one’s head to successfully protect the wearer from seeing anything dangerous. And I am successfully using something similar with my mirror these days – you do not have that many years on me you know.

I touched upon this August feeling of exhaustion/annoyance two weeks ago on my own website – pulling no punches – only to have a subscriber withdraw her reading services, citing “Looking for something more positive.”

Oh how I wanted to reply to her – breaking no doubt, sixteen Mailchimp covenants and sworn oaths of privacy – to say “My friend and fellow gardener, this IS positive. It’s the perfectly packaged pap from the everything-is-okay-I’m-doing-awesome-having-it-all-#BestLifeEver crowd that you should be avoiding. We’re all in this together – it sure as hell helps if someone is truthful about it.”

I refrained. But I did get a giggle when Anne Wareham of The Vedww House Garden commented “Still knackered – I measure this by how many times a day I say f… off to an inanimate object.” Wonderful.

I believe you are dry in the Midwest too this year – isn’t it annoying to find ourselves more dependent on the wet stuff than we wish to be? And that’s just the vodka gin and tonics. The despair attached to a long cool spring and mostly rainless summer in a year where I am writing and photographing a book on tropical plants has necessitated a few more visits to the drinks cabinet than are advocated by those that officially advocate these things.

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Some mornings I can feel the ghost of Beth Chatto hovering over me and my watering cans as I slop warm rainwater over sandaled, gritty toes and give Anne at The Vedww something to strive for in graduate level Creative Swearing.

Hearkening back to our discussion of gardeners you do not care to read, but don’t mind slagging off, Chatto championed the idea of planting specifically for drought tolerance. When I last visited the Beth Chatto Garden in East Anglia two years ago, they had received all of 13 inches of rain by the end of August, and the gravel garden (built over the remains of a car park) had not had a drop of supplemental water. It was a hot summer certainly, but that area of England is particularly dry in the best of years.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

Chatto’s ghost chastises me for planting choices made in wetter years. I’d offer her a coffee, but she has so many gardeners to chastise on her morning rounds there’s no time for a chat. Should she stay, I’m ashamed to say I would begin the discussion with an excuse — having been instructed throughout my gardening career not to.

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

She would look at me blankly – in that way the British are so good at – in the way my militant (but beloved) godmother used to – politely waiting for the actual problem. And I would instantly feel ashamed of myself and get back to water slopping and some menial weeding.

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

Not that I wouldn’t continue to feel sorry for myself, chastised and muttering into the crabgrass. For I am a gardener and that is what gardeners do. There is an enormous amount of energy spent feeling sorry for ourselves. A dry season, a deer feast, a late spring freeze, a child on a mower. Poor Anne and Charles at The Vedww lost one massive yew in an established hedge to a dripping tap and I want to shake my fist at the Heavens for them – I can’t imagine how cosmically wronged they feel.

Ah! The glories we could achieve were it not for [X]! The vegetables we could grow were it not for [Y]! The excuse-free year we would have were it not for [Z]! I could go on, but I have an excuse to finish illustrating for you and demons compel me…

A wooded stream valley means free draining alluvial soils worthy of a Mediterranean garden…were it not for the 90 foot tulip poplars meting out sunlight like a miserly king. And then there’s the cold air that trips and tumbles down the hillsides to pool over my expensive zone-pushers. Lavender without the sun. Ferns without the moisture. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink…

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

During this dry year, it is tempting to allow the survivors to slip quietly into dormancy. With COVID bells sounding and everything off the calendar, including tours of my garden by highly opinionated gardeners tsking and tutting between mouthfuls of quiche and cheap plonk, I have questioned the need (for instance) to keep watering containerized color for my eyes only. Further existential questions such as “What is it all for?” or “Is there a purpose to all this suffering?” or “Why the hell did I wait to put in that thuja hedge until THIS year?” have been springing from my lips just as often has Anne has been abusing her inanimate objects.

Now it is you who are no doubt looking for something more positive. Forgive me. I am in an August state of mind and there is nothing like it. August will try the very soul of you. How many new, excited 20-something gardeners have met their Waterloo in August and fled back to more pleasurable ways of abusing their bodies and minds?

There I go again. This is getting grim quickly. You might as well be writing this letter. Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

This perhaps is the most positive lesson coming out of all this mess, by which I mean the COVID emergency, the dry summer, and the non-stop political wars: The perspective it gives on the importance of the garden. Not the garden in a particular moment in time mind you (glorious May, damnable August), but the garden in general. The necessity of the garden.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination. I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

I have also been made more aware of the things I don’t need – like that containerized color in a far off part of the garden, extra pots of cuttings to water that will never find a home this season, clearance plants at deep discounts that will cost me dearly in sweat trying to revive them during a cruel summer. It is a freeing state of mind.

I was so very thankful recently to a professional gardener on a social media page who took an honest picture of plants heading to the compost pile in the back of a truck because he hadn’t the staff to plant them, much less water them after the COVID mess. He also had zero time to find homes for them all and arrange pick up etc… (yes, this takes time!). He was saddened, but realistic.

I submit such honesty as “something more positive.” We all know we’re going to keep working with plants. We all live, breathe and sleep it. But to pretend the difficulties don’t get us down? That creates unrealistic expectations for others (particularly beginners) that may result in them chucking it all before they have had a chance to thoroughly swallow the hook.

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either. But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

With August’s arrival, the tropicals are coming into their own, which is why I adore them and have spent the first half of this year slouched in front of my laptop trying to communicate why we should all have a tropical love affair or two. They are heavy drinkers of course (you’d get on splendidly), but sometimes I am amazed by what I can get away with wielding only a watering can.

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

In the early evening when I walk the garden in a better frame of mind, they magically transfer their enthusiasm for heat and humidity to the temperate shrubs and perennials who are flagging. A bit like that guest at the party who comes late, mixes up a new cocktail, commandeers the playlist and gets everybody moving again. We’ll all have a hell of a hangover digging rhizomes in the fall, but damn, it will be worth it.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Thank you by the way for your last letter which elicited a belly laugh of the best kind. You are too rich in your praise – I can assure you it is undeserved. I am merely an extrovert who enjoys the natural introversion of academics – and would happily sign my life away to sitting in a common room discussing Zingiberaceae over a subsidized beer if I didn’t have to literally sign my life away to another round of crippling student loans.

Been there. Done that. If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer. And the piercings.

However. Do not think for one minute I am not on to you and your cleverly-chosen avatar of Underdog. That is a strategic place to lurk, and you pull it off well. I can only come off as harsh and unsympathetic in comparison. I will remind you that I did once sit through one of your interminable lectures (the one where you weren’t attacking me), and you are fooling no one with the “I’m just an average, at best, student” shtick.

The Pity-The-Poor-Midwesterner routine is also particularly shrewd (esp. as anti-coastal bias is popular and I am creature of not one, but two); but I’ve seen the black, beautiful soils out there. You could throw a pack of cigarettes on the ground and sprout tobacco. Who needs mountains and oceans with fertility like that?

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

P.S. My version of too much gin at age 15 and the dirty asphalt of a drive-in right off the Mosteller Road exit in Sharonville, Ohio, is tequilla in a little town in Norway at 18. No asphalt. Cannot touch the stuff now…double-vision fjords come flooding back. Thank God social media didn’t exist when we were young & supple, eh?

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

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turfandlawncare · 4 years

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Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

There I go again. This is getting grim quickly. You might as well be writing this letter. Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination. I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either. But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Been there. Done that. If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer. And the piercings.

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

The post Looking for Something More Positive appeared first on GardenRant.

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archienewling · 5 years

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This is the second of three posts sponsored by RISE’s AND not OR home and garden program. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

The great spring garden clean up of 2019 has come to completion! I’ve pulled the weeds and have been assessing the garden after our particularly harsh winter. I like most of the garden to be self-sustaining and easy to take care of, but I do enjoy my time working on it! AND not OR has tips tailored to all kinds of gardeners to help you get a game plan together.

The perennials are thriving! I was able to split some of them to use along the wrought iron fence. We have a lot of the varieties from RISE’s list of plants that work well in this area, and looking at it again I’m thinking I’d like to have hollyhock too. Doesn’t that sound like a charming addition to the front of a Victorian?

I monitor our dwarf Alberta spruce throughout the year for spider mites and have to treat it periodically (they’re prone to pests), but it’s fine right now. I’ll be trimming the boxwoods later this month and I cut back as much of the yew as I could reach. It’s probably time to bring in somebody that can lop off the top half and bring it back to a reasonable size. I remember my grandparents yews getting cut down to bare wood and bouncing back beautifully; yews are like that.

The fence borders were filled with creeping charlie. I found the best technique for removal was to take my Japanese garden hoe and run it beneath their shallow roots. This is just one example of how I use The AND Approach to find, solve & prevent using a combination of solutions that work for me based on the problem at hand. Based on peoples’ responses on Instagram, creeping charlie is tenacious! Look at that beautiful weed-free bare dirt. I need to get something planted there before it gets overrun again.

I’ve filled the planters flanking the front walkway and lined up on the stairs with annuals. Sometimes I’ll arrange my own combinations of flowers, and other times I take the easy route and buy the ones that are ready to go. This year I mixed some flower fertilizer into the soil, planted the refill, and called it good.

The yews and Annabelle hydrangeas out front continue to fill in nicely! Still babies, but they’re growing.

I’ve added creeping phlox, and a new lily to the yard. I split some of the allium, phlox, and lamb’s ear that was growing on the left side in the flower bed and planted it on the right. Please please please don’t let me forget to add tulips and/or daffodils in the fall so that we have some spring color next year. The houses that have them are so cheery! I want in.

I also added foxglove, again, which I know is a biennial (and poisonous) plant. I keep trying, but I’ve never had any luck with them reseeding to come back. I think this is the fourth year I’ve planted them. I continue to love them, even if they don’t seem to love me and my garden back. Is there a trick to this that I don’t know?

Everything has come together so nicely, but what should I plant in the newly bare section along the fence? I like the idea of a mass planting like the Annabelle hydrangeas on the other side, but they seem too big for this spot.

It’s in full sun. Roses or hydrangeas? Our street sees a fair amount of foot traffic and I worry about thorns at the fence line snagging passers by. Does that push me definitely toward hydrangeas though? The fence will be covered in sweet autumn clematis come late August or September with prolific tiny white flowers, but it’s so empty until the clematis takes off. Lavender was a popular suggestion too. What’s your pick?

© 2019, published by Making it Lovely as Reviving the Front Yard For Spring | No comments | This post may contains affiliate links; I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on my links.

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doctortdesigns · 7 years

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I was snooping around the various Burda sites hoping to get a peek at the August issue, when, surprise surprise, I found that the German Burda site had posted the Fall/Winter Catalog patterns! Burda only produces new envelope patterns twice a year – once for spring/summer, and once for fall/winter. Being a hardcore Burda fangirl, these announcements are something akin to being like a major holiday for me. Usually I find myself wanting to purchase a good 30 some-odd patterns after these announcements. Perhaps it is my burgeoning pattern stash, my ongoing efforts to define (and achieve) a core style for myself (updates on this to come soon – skating season is almost over!), or the fact that we seem to be slipping into 90s revival territory, but this time I haven’t found quite as many must-buys. I have probably three patterns I’m really excited about, with about a dozen I’m likely to get when they go on sale ($2.49 for Burda is hard to pass up!), and a lot of “maybe” patterns on my list. Which to me says that this release has a lot of good stuff, but not that much amazing stuff. Perhaps a closer inspection will help me solidify my impressions. Let’s take a look:

Definitely the stand outs for me in this release are the dresses. While I’m not that into the giant floral prints, I’d love to make the color blocked versions of either 6450 or 6454. 6452 has lots of great style lines for fitting, and I’m oddly obsessed with 6453. It’s one of those patterns that looks stupidly easy to sew, yet has this dramatic understated ease about it.

I’m a bit less impressed with the Burda Young dresses – the 90s is coming back hard and I’m so not excited. I mean, actually, the style lines on 6474 and 6473 aren’t bad, but I’m silently screaming over the hideous crushed velvets and drab floral prints. It looks like my youth, and I wish it would stay there.

Burda usually has quite a few formal dresses, but there isn’t much this time around. I do love the fitted 6483, but I’m less impressed with the other options. 6455 has a bit much of that 90s vibe going on, especially with the fabrication. Can we go back to having a ruffle on everything?

Lots of blouse options in this release. I’m sort of looking forward to this because I’m really wanting to add more tops that aren’t t-shirts to my wardrobe. I’m not sure that I’m overly excited about any of these styles in particular, but I like the direction the silhouettes are going. You can see things transitioning away from the ruffles (minimally present in the sleeves and yoke details) towards simpler designs with subtler details.

Kind of loving nearly all the skirts. I really like the asymmetric yoke on 6468, and the side zip detail on 6467. I’m not really needing the mini from the Burda Young set, but I can see it being popular if the younger crowd is going to have a 90s revival.

Lots of relaxed pants options, plus a really slick looking wide trouser. I actually recently listened to Unravel podcast’s series on the history of women and pants, which had an interesting discussion about Marlene Dietrich. Kind of makes me really excited about all of Burda’s Marlene pants. Not that I didn’t love them before, but, well, I’m even more excited now. I’m liking the additions of subtle details to most of these styles.

Normally I’m all about the Burda jackets, but I’m oddly not really obsessed with any of these looks. The unfitted 80s boxiness is so not my thing, and I feel like I’ve got similar Burda patterns for the other two styles. Ah well. Plenty of other goodies in this release.

I am liking the Burda Young releases. The oversized sweater is a look I can get behind, and I’m far too excited by the bomber hoodie mashup. I’m predicting that this will be the trend of fall 2017, because it’s all over this release, and starting to show up in other pattern company styles as well. I’m sort of selfishly excited because I’ve been wanting to make one (or five) bombers for myself, but haven’t gotten around to it yet. If it continues to be a thing, I’ll feel better about making a bunch of them after nationals.

Ah, now these coats are more like it! I wasn’t totally sold on 6462 at first, but it is growing on me. I can see the loose fit being entirely practical for layering, and the detachable second collar is pretty cool. I’m really loving the long version of 6461 too – very classic and elegant, and the high collar is great for windy days.

I’m a bit jealous that these are Petite looks! I love the waist detail on the dress, and the detachable zipped hood is a feature I franken-patterned onto my blue raincoat several years ago, so that is obviously a super cool feature which I highly endorse.

The Burda Plus releases are super trendy. The pants are great and I’m excited to see that the plus crowd also gets a hooded bomber! The draped cardigan isn’t anything new, but still looks great, and the fancy dress is really pretty, especially in the lace.

Kids stuff. Cool if you got kids? Actually, the little hoodie is kinda cute.

Loving the little coats.

Hoodie bombers for everyone!

Burda crafts, as always, are kinda meh. But I’ve been following Cation Designs epic unicorn adventure, so I’m kind of excited to see a unicorn pattern.

And that’s it! While I’m not as obsessed with these patterns as I have been with past releases, I know I’m going to add a healthy number of these looks to my pattern stash (and, hopefully, my wardrobe). I’m really liking the minimization of the ruffles, as well as the overall silhouettes that seem to be coming out. The only thing I’m really not excited about is the apparent revival of early 90s styling. Least you think that maybe it’s just some weird German European styling thing, I assure you, as we shall see when I get my McCall’s preview up, it is not. Sadly. Ah well. I suppose that is why my awesome stash has gotten so epically large – so I can’t be the dowdy old lady stuck in styles from 2006 (oh man I’m old) and avoid sewing with crushed velvet like it will give me the plague. (And, yes, I do hear you saying, “Wait, don’t you sew with velvet all the time for skating costumes?” To which I respond, yes, and velvet is great, but not this 90s revival crushed velvet which looks nasty and gross under all circumstances.) Anyway, what do you all think? See any fall looks that have you itching to sew? Or are you as turned off by the 90s as I am? Feel free to discuss the Burda patterns or my oddly prejudiced dislike of 90s fashion in the comments!

Burda Fall/Winter 2017 Catalog Patterns #Burda #patterns #sewing #obsession I was snooping around the various Burda sites hoping to get a peek at the August issue, when, surprise surprise, I found that the German Burda site had posted the…

#Burda #obsession #pattern #sewing

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