#the coldest and the boldest

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day: 4 @eonweweek

Prompt: Romance

Pairing: Eönwë/Arien

Themes: Epistolary form (letters) | Medieval AU

Warnings: Just two people all loved up, your honor  

Word count: 800+ words

Summary: Eönwë writes to Arien, thanking her for her gift.

Letter from Eönwë to Arien:

25th August 1453

To my most beloved Lady Arien, greetings.

Not long ago, I received your letter and your gift of a saffron ribbon richly embroidered in golden thread. It pleases me to hear of your prosperity and good health, and I accept the present that you have bestowed upon me with a glad and willing heart. If it would not offend, I will wear it upon my person whenever opportunity allows.

My lady, the continued demonstrations of your affections oblige me to love and honor you always. Such things I do not consider a burden, for what burden is there in serving the one whom I desire over all others? I shall treasure your words and your tokens, and I pray that I will continue to be the recipient of your esteem; there would be no greater punishment than the loss of it.

I compete next in the tourney at House Shield. Lord Tulkas has welcomed all, and the king himself will take his place in the lists. I yearn to see you there, and perhaps, if it pleases you, I could entreat you to join me in more private amusements, far away from the prying eyes of others.

I must now end this letter, my lady, for a lack of time, but know that I wish you well and that you are in my thoughts always.

Written by the hand of your most humble servant,

Eönwë

Letter from Arien to Eönwë:

02nd September, 1453

To my most beloved knight, greetings.

Your letter came to me on the swiftest of swings, and it was received with much joy. I made haste to write in answer, for the weather is slowly beginning to grow colder, and our birds do not fare well when it becomes even more so. The cold makes them weak, and too many of them become easy prey. Come winter, my letters will be a rare thing, but I will more than make amends for it when we are blessed once again with the glory of spring.

It would not offend me in the slightest, my lord, if you wore my token upon your person. And it honors me, truly, to know that my tokens and my letters, trifling things as they are, will always be treasured by you. Your words of devotion humble me, my lord, and I pray that I will always prove myself to be worthy of it.

I too will travel to House Shield, for the ladies I serve desire to witness the spectacle of the tourney. Lord Tulkas will see to it that no expense is spared, especially now, when the king himself wishes to contend with other knights. As for the other matter, that of my joining you in more private amusements, my answer is yes, my lord. I will be glad to do so.

For now, my love, farewell.

Arien 

Letter from Eönwë to Arien:

11th September 1453

To the Lady Arien, my beloved companion in all things. Greetings.

Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again, my love, for your letter. Preparations are nearly complete for our journey, and the king has sent word for us to depart on the last day of this very month. The days will be long and hard and tiresome, but such struggles will be soon forgotten when I am finally able to see you and take you into my arms once again.

I too understand the difficulty that comes with sending letters during the winter. The road to Ilmarin is nigh impassable; the wind howls violently like a living, breathing beast and only the boldest, or perhaps the most foolish of hearts, attempt to ride up paths hidden beneath thick drifts of snow. Perhaps, my lady, you will consider wintering in Ilmarin before returning to Green Grove in the spring. You will find that the royal palace is warm and well-appointed even during the coldest and foulest of months, and you will not lack for any comfort. His grace the king has already consented to my request, and I will gladly speak to the ladies you serve on this score if you were to give me leave to do so.

By the hand of your most faithful companion,

Eönwë

Letter from Arien to Eönwë:

19th September, 1453

Most treasured companion, greetings.

My lord, I heartily accept your invitation to while away the winter months in Ilmarin. The ladies whom I serve will readily assent to your plea, and I gladly give you leave to speak with them when you see them next. I am told that Ilmarin is most beautiful during the cold months, with holly and sprigs of evergreen and gilded lamps wrought in the shape of stars adorning its chambers and halls. I have always longed to see such beauty with my own eyes, and I am forever grateful to you for granting me this.

I shall put down my quill for now, but please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers always.

Written by the hand of she who is always yours,

Arien

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[harlowhockeystick]

Princess AU Description

This is a character description and AU synopsis of princess, nolan, and all those involved with the AU! This is to not only help me out, but to help you reading it! Any comments or questions are always welcome!

nolan helps her build her own brand, selling her own clothing line for women, men, and children (though, that part comes after they have kids). nolan continues playing hockey til he realizes he's missing out on a lot of his kids stuff, including things with his wife.

Gemma Marie Patrick

gemma, the firstborn of all four patrick clan. born in the spring, she was a healing property for princess and nolan. she's a daddy's girl through and through. gemma, like her mom, loves all things pink and pretty. she loves helping mom out with designs, helping with pretty dresses and nice clothes. she's not quite the material girl that princess is, but she does take after her mom in that sense.

gemma is the most calm out of all the patrick children. she's mature, she's easy to get along with, and she's the one that all her siblings go to for help. and in turn, gemma will always have her parents when she needs someone to go to.

Hazel Gray Patrick

hazel...the one that gives nolan a run for his money. she was born on the coldest day in manitoba over all star break four years after gemma, and it was like she was mad she was born in the cold. hazel attaches more to mom, but she does have her days where she clings to nolan. hazel is the sassiest, boldest, and most clever out of the group. there isn't a day that goes by where hazel doesn't do something. it's true, when nolan looks at the phone and sees the name of his children's school, he mutters to himself: what did hazel do now?

hazel never grows out of the sass, she'll have that for life. she's the little bully of the house (even at school) and keeps everyone in their place. she goes through a rebellious stage, she goes through a boyfriend phase, she goes through just about every phase you can think of. but dispite all the attitude and stress, she's still gonna be nolans favorite kid.

Blair Rose Patrick

blair, the little girl who is different every day of the year. she was born on a dark and rainy day two years after hazel, but yet she's the happiest kid. though she tends to be shy, her only friend is her dad and her brother until she's in the fourth grade, she still always finds something to be happy about. she's the smartest kid in her grade, every grade. there's nothing little BP can't do.

blair at one point is nicknamed "wednesday" because she likes to wear the darker clothes; nolan thinks it's because of the weather conditions she was born under. princess says she takes after dad in that sense...wearing dark clothes, rarely smiling, appearing to the public that she's this dark and mysterious girl, but when in reality she is a happy and giggly kid who's favorite color is secretly yellow.

Theodore James Patrick

teddy, nolan's "favorite" kid. everyone knows that hazel is secretly nolan's favorite kid just because she is unhinged, but when they got word that their fourth child was finally a boy, nolan practically cried out from joy. he was born on the most perfect summer day- the perfect day for a fishing trip- just a short year and a half after blair was born. teddy loves all things boy related; monster trucks, dinosaurs, the color blue, and fishing. each weekend in the off season, nolan is on the fishing boat with his co captain by his side. oh, and teddy loves hockey too. technically speaking, teddy is the ideal child.

teddy's best friend is his sister blair, there's not a day that goes by where teddy isn't sneaking into blairs room to hang out. and because teddy is the youngest, and the only boy, he has three sisters to protect him from all the girls. teddy has is up and down days growing up, he goes through his up and down phases, but he wouldn't have traded his crazy, chaotic, family for anything else. especially his sister blair.

feedback | main masterlist | au masterlist

[wintersovereign]

"I'm the newest, the boldest, and definitely the coldest."

[roosterbruiser]

whenever you have the time, I’d love to hear more about Faye’s other pregnancies. I’m obsessed with Landslide. It’s a masterpiece!

sorry I let this sit in my drafts for so long!!! omg!!!

canonically, I'm making it so Faye really enjoys being pregnant (and good bc they have FIVE girls) because I've tortured her more than enough in the story :,)

here's a blurb I wrote about Olive:

And then, of course, there was Olive. And the house was never even close to quiet ever again. A crackling baby monitor, some battery-operated toy, hiccups, crying, giggling, abused piano keys crying unceremoniously, gleeful chattering, babbling, burping, tiny feet on the kitchen tile. Olive was always relentless--plagued with a never-ending case of hiccups, especially when she was upset--and walked through life with a certain boldness only her aunt had possessed. It took Olive a few moments to cry when she was born in that white-washed hospital room just before midnight--stubborn as she is, she only relented when her daddy touched her for the first time. She is the oldest daughter, the bravest, the boldest. Self-assured, secured in her place in this world. 

Faye's pregnancy with Joni is about as smooth as a pregnancy can get! chasing around a toddler keeps Faye on her toes, but Bradley always makes sure to spoil her rotten as soon as he gets home.

her biggest craving is giant salads. and we aren't talking flimsy little things, either. we're talking the words: cooked pasta, breadcrumbs, cabbage, butter lettuce, carrots, peppers, vinegar dressing, tomatoes, chicken, seeds, nuts, etc. Bradley would obviously start calling Faye "bunny" during this period bc of that!

after her less-than-steller experience birthing in a hospital, I think Faye would opt to give birth at home. she already knows that she can do it medication-free, but they go to lots of classes anyway! I imagine that Faye is only in labor for a few hours, just like she was with Olive. and then Joni Caroline is born late into the night on October 19th, 2023.

here's a blurb I wrote about it:

Then there was Joni--sweet Joni, endlessly quieter than Olive, but doted on relentlessly. Joni was always watching--those big, brown eyes lingering over still faces and laughing forms and moving screens and cloudy skies. But we--Bradley and I--we could always hear her. It was the humming. She hummed from--what feels like--birth. Always a low little vibration in her throat, her eyes far-away and glassy, her little lips a flat line. When Joni was born, when I pulled her from the warm water and onto my naked chest in the lowlight of the living room, she didn’t cry. Frantically, the midwives checked her airways while Bradley and I rubbed her back, cooing at her. Her airways were clear and she was breathing; she just didn’t have anything to say. 

similarly with Olive and Joni, the pregnancy is easy. she's a surprise baby, but it's a happy surprise! chasing after two toddlers does keep Faye on her toes, but they have family living close to them by the time she's pregnant with Finch!

they keep the gender a surprise, even though they both feel like it's a boy. they don't know why other than they just assume after two girls, they'd get a boy. they settle on the name Finch and don't really look for a girl name at all!

but as soon as Finch is born and is absolutely a girl, they decide that the name Finch is absolutely perfect anyway.

here's a blurb I wrote about it:

Finch came screaming into the world on the coldest day in February, roaring herself into this serious world with a very serious cry. As I laid on the bedroom floor, the plastic sheet beneath me crinkling with my every movement, she bawled and bawled and bawled. It wasn’t until I put her to my breast, only minutes after birth, that she relinquished all thoughts of upset. Finch has always been insistent--always attached to the boob when she was an infant, always begging for more of this, more of that. But as insistent as she has always been, she has been the kindest soul to ever touch this earth. She used to rush into the house in a frenzy, holding an ailing baby bunny, begging me to save it, mommy, save it! She was the resident bug collector, releasing spiders and centipedes outside safely. She would hold hands with anyone, would never leave without kissing us goodbye, and was never embarrassed to let her dad hold her on her shoulders at concerts--even when she was too big. 

Bradley and Faye have three sweet and perfect girls and decide what the Hell? why not have one more!

and then they get pregnant with twins. twin girls!

I feel like this is Faye's most complicated pregnancy. knowing that she is carrying twin girls is a genuine physical reminder of her own sister every single day. worrying about repeating the mistakes of her parents or repeating any part of her history is a major concern for her. Bradley's constantly rubbing knots out of her shoulders at the end of the day.

physically, she's dealing with more weight and less room in her womb, but she's been pregnant a few times by now and knows how it goes. pregnancy agrees with her, even if it's twins!

Bradley is more concerned about two newborns than anything else, especially since the other girls aren't very old yet!

but then they're born and they're the most perfect little souls to ever grace this earth. they complete the Ledger-Bradshaw family to a tee--complete with their big brown eyes and loud mouths.

here's a blurb I wrote about it:

Last came Opal and June. My last daughters stretched me to my breaking point, waiting until a cool June day to start my labor. It was my longest and most grueling one, which was unexpected. Twenty-three hours of me pacing around the house like a wild animal, heavy with two baby girls, twisting this way, stretching that way, standing up, kneeling, leaning, swaying. Little Opal was born first--and she was slow to emerge from me. Coming into my arms at four in the morning a tiny and pink thing, furrowing her brow at me as if I'd interrupted her quiet night. Shortly after Opal was June, who was sweeter and quieter. She was born with her eyes wide open and looking into mine--they were the eyes of my grandmother, deep blue and very intense. They have always been attached to me--attached to my hip. Despite being born in the same hour on the same day, Opal is louder than June. She is more than June in every way: more emotional, more angry, more happy, more hungry, more thirsty. Opal was my only daughter that cried when I left her at daycare for the first time. June held her hand quietly, diligently, but did not tear up. But when I returned only a few hours later, grocery bags in the backseat of the truck, June wrapped her arms around my leg and would not let me go. I sat in the car with them for a long time, the engine cut and the ice cream in the trunk melting, just petting their hair and explaining that I will always come back. Always. This is not to say that the twins love Bradley any less than they love me. And he loves them just as fiercely as he loves me, Olive, Joni, Finch. But they have always been my shadows. They were the last to stop breastfeeding, the last to stop sleeping in our bed, the last to take their training wheels of their bikes, the last to leave the house. And even now, when Opal needs comfort, she will openly weep and wail until we are cooing and patting her hair and kissing her cheeks. And even now, when June needs comfort, she will hold onto me and not let me go. They use their spare keys often.

[prosey-baron]

To Be Like the Sound of an Acoustic Guitar

To pull on the heart string should create such rustic sound,

To hear a dollop of sunshine, to be savored drop of honeyed light.

To laugh so joyously, bubbling thing that spills over the top,

To dribble down the side of chilled glass.

Fall.

Like tears.

Captured upon once rosy cheeks.

To be picked and strummed like so many emotions

Whirl in our thoughts

Should one of them be mine?

To pull upon the heart strings should be to hear the sounds of life, itself.

It’s warmest ray of sunshine and coldest drop of rain.

To merry, haunting sounds so discordant and messy as,

The thoughts that plague and rest upon souls.

To pull upon the heartstrings should

Be like the sound of an acoustic guitar.

A dollop of sunshine.

A cold drop of rain.

A giggle.

A tear.

A life captured in softest picks and boldest chords.

Could we ever love?

Like the scars from a pick

Scrapped from a thousands songs on the face of an

Acoustic guitar?

[misstoriaaa]

Talk to me about why I’m your dream girl

[mymegumi]

someday

pairing: giyuu tomioka x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 523 words

warnings: none

his hands were a firm anchoring point against the small of your back, pushing you and guiding you as the two of you flow within the crowd. you weren’t aware of it, but giyuu’s gaze and visage of apathy was enough to steer even the boldest bystander away from the couplet you made up.

“are we almost there yet?” you tilted your head back to be able to hear him better, since the crowd was just loud enough for it to be a bit hard for you to hear him.

his head was canted towards your ear, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “the inn is only just a bit ahead, we’ll make it in the next few minutes if we keep walking.”

you pursued your lips disdainfully, eyes scanning the crowd and keeping a close eye on the signs advertising food that made your stomach rumble. often you’d have eaten by now, but work had kept you occupied to the point that the sun was already setting and you hadn’t a morsel of food yet.

“would you like to stop?”

you’d hardly noticed that the two of you had stopped, a little off to the side so the flow of people was winding around you without hassle. looking up at him, his gaze was turned away from you, instead focusing on something in the crowd. “what?”

he had pretty eyes, you thought as he looked back down at you. his dark blue eyes seemingly black in the evening lights, all that was around were the torches that had been lit for the night. “i said, would you like to stop? you kept glancing at the food stalls, so i thought perhaps we could stop for a meal before the inn.”

“yeah,” your words were just a mere susurration among the white noise of the busy village, as many men were heading to the bars to drink their sorrows away, “i’d like that a lot.”

which is how you found yourself sharing a bowl of ramen with giyuu, who had insisted he didn’t need a full bowl of his own, content to just pick at the food you had chosen. there wasn’t an ounce of the usual stoicism that he often seemed to exude when he was surrounded by your fellow hashiras, instead a simple smile drawn across his lips.

his hand had wound up curling around yours at some point, warm and protecting yours from the harsh cold air of the evening. you knew the weather wasn’t the coldest, but from the red blossoming along the bridge of his nose, you had a feeling that he’d claim the chill in the air was to blame.

“shall we head back, darling?” giyuu’s head jerked towards you at the use of the pet name you often saved for just the two of you, flush spreading from his face to the sides of his cheeks.

he huffed loudly when he saw the glint in your eyes—full of mirth and a hint of something the pair of you hadn’t been able to discuss—before tugging you from your sitting position.

“of course. let’s get going.”

[fyeah-rainbowsnowcone]

Hello! how are u? hope you stay safe. Could you recomend me rainbow snowcone fanfics?

Of course I can recommend some for you, and all you have to do is just click on the title.

'Date Night', which was actually written by me.

'Different Now' by sparklevampFTW.

'Don't Be Unreasonable' by LavLongLoveFin.

'Project GUARDIAN: The Rise & Fall' by Her Head In the Clouds.

Stealing a Princess by ChillyPeepPenguins.

'The Coldest and The Boldest' by TectonicPlatez.

[histoireettralala]

The Sacking of Joseph Fouché: The Downfall (4/4)

" Unfortunately, in his gleeful mystification, Joseph Fouché made a little mistake. He thinks, indeed, that he is playing with the inexperienced rookie of a duke, with a minister still in diapers.

But he forgets that this successor was nominated by a master who doesn't accept jokes. Besides, Napoleon is already watching with distrust Fouché's behaviour. This long hesitation in the handing over of his position, this open-ended postponement of his departure for Rome, displeases him. Moreover, the investigation opened against Ouvrard, Fouché's tool, has given an unexpected result: it revealed that Fouché previously already entrusted another broker with notes for the English office. And until now nobody yet has tricked Napoleon with impunity. Suddenly, on June 17, an incisive mail is sent to Fouché in Ferrières, sharp as the stroke of a whip:

"Monsieur le Duc d'Otrante, I beg of you to send me the note which was conveyed to you by M. Fagan, whom you sent to London to probe Lord Wellesley, and who brought you this lord's answer, of which I was never informed."

This is like the sound of a fanfare and able to wake up a dead man. Fouché ought to realize it by now. But it seems the Devil pushes him to want, very seriously, to measure himself against Napoleon, against the most powerful man in the universe. Because he declares to the envoy something which is entirely false, that he is extremely sorry, but he didn't keep any letter. He has burned everything. Of course, nobody believes that from Fouché and Napoleon even less than the others. A second time he warns him, in a rougher, more pressing way: we know his impatience. And now misdemeanour turns to obstinacy, obstinacy to insolence and insolence to provocation. Indeed, Fouché repeats that he doesn't have any paper anymore, and he bases the supposed destruction of the emperor's private files on a argument which is almost blackmail. His Majesty, he says with irony, honored him with such trust that, whenever one of his brothers aroused his dissatisfaction, he charged him, Fouché, to bring him back in line. And since then each brother shared with him his recriminations, he has considered it his duty not to keep those letters. His Majesty's sisters as well weren't always untainted by slander and the emperor himself had thought him worthy to be entrusted the secret of these rumours and had tasked him to seek which thoughtlessness was its source. It's clear and more than clear: Fouché is telling the Emperor that he knows many things and that he doesn't allow himself to be treated like a lackey [...] A second summon is issued by the new Police minister, the duke of Rovigo. But Fouché answers everyone with the same politeness and the same decisiveness that unfortunately, motivated by an excessive discretion, he burned the papers. For the first time a man in France openly resists the Emperor.

It is too much. As much as Napoleon, for ten years, underestimated Fouché, Fouché now underestimates Napoleon if he thinks he can intimidate him with a few indiscretions [..] Napoleon summons the chief of his private police, Dubois, and lets himself go in front of him to the most violent bursts of anger against "this wretched, wretched man". In his anger he comes and goes roughly and noisily and he suddenly shouts:

"Let him not think he can do with me what he did with his God, his Convention and his Directoire, whom he basely betrayed and sold! I have a longer sight than Barras, and with me it will not be so easy. Let him therefore be warned. But he has notes, instructions from me, and I intend him to return them to me. If he refuses, let him be put in the hands of ten gendarmes. Let him be taken to the Abbaye and, by God, I will show him that a trial can be done quickly. "

Now things are going bad. Now, Fouché himself starts feeling uncomfortable [..] Quickly, he writes now more and more letters, one for the emperor and others to various ministers, to complain about the distrust against him, who is the most loyal, the most genuine, the most righteous and the most faithfully devoted of all ministers, and in one of these letters it is pleasing to find this specific sentence: "It isn't in my character to change" (these words are literally written black on white by this true chameleon that Fouché was, as for the character). And, like fifteen years ago with Robespierre, he hopes he can still prevent the catastrophe by a quick reconciliation. He takes a carriage and goes to Paris to personally offer the emperor his explanations, or no doubt already also apologies.

But it is too late. He has played for too long, joked for too long; now there is no possible reconciliation, no possible compromise; the one who publically provoked Napoleon must be publically humiliated. A letter is written to Fouché, harsh, short and cutting, in a way Napoleon never used for other ministers:

"Monsieur le duc d'Otrante, your services cannot please me anymore. It is appropriate that you be gone for your senatorerie under twenty-four hours."

The tension was too great, the game too reckless; and now happens something very unexpected: Fouché, scared of his terrible situation, completely breaks down, like a sleepwalker who, unwittingly climbing on the roof and suddenly awakened by a sudden call, falls into the void. The same man who, within a hairsbreadth of the guillotine, kept his cool and his lucid thinking, pitifully collapses under the blow Napoleon struck him.

This 3 June 1810 is Joseph Fouché's Waterloo. His nerves break; he rushes to the minister to get a passport for a foreign land and, changing horses in every station, he flees without stopping anywhere till he reaches Italy. There, he goes from one place to another, running like a distraught rat on a burning hotbed [...] he begs Napoleon's sisters for help as well as sovereigns and friends; he appears and disappears suddenly, to the great displeasure of the policemen who are looking for and keep losing track of him; in short, he behaves like a madman, so great is his fear, and for the first time he offers, he the nerveless one, a truly clinical example of a complete nervous breakdown. Never, in one gesture, with one punch, did Napoleon crush an adversary in such a radical way than this one, who had been at the same time the boldest and the coldest of his servants.

[..]

Napoleon only wanted to impose his will, have his papers back, and he is completely successful. Indeed, while Fouché, distraught and as if hysterical, tires out his horses across Italy, his wife in Paris acts in a much more reasonable way. She capitulates in his stead. It is not questionable that, to save her husband, the duchess of Otrante gave back to Napoleon the papers Fouché had treacherously removed, since none of these private sheets on which the ex-minister based his threat of blakcmail ever reached the light of the day. Just like Barras' papers, from whom the emperor bought them as well as from the other inconvenient witnesses of his ascension, Fouché's files relating to Napoleon have disappeared without a trace. The emperor himself, or later Napoleon III, totally destroyed all documents which didn't conform with the official history.

In the end, Fouché receives the kind permission to get back to his senatorerie of Aix. The great storm calmed down; the lightning only shook Fouché's nerves, without hitting him to the marrow. On september 25, this desperate man enters his domain, "pale, unravelled, and showing in the incoherence of his ideas and the chaos of his speech a deeply damaged morale." But he will have all the time he needs to recover, because whoever rebels against Napoleon is for a long time put away from political affairs. The ambitious must pay the price of his entertainment: again the waves throw him into the abyss. For three years, Joseph Fouché will stay without dignities or employment: his third exile has begun."

Stefan Zweig- Fouché

[aleikats]

Drawn about a week ago. I redrew some some stuff referencing old works from my old blog :D  - An old fanart of Jack placing flowers on Tooth’s head

- Re-designed Tooth’s winter ball dress (into something actually wearable and not a halloween costume) from the fanfic, The Coldest and The Boldest. 

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 4: Winter

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Four: Winter

Note: This will be interesting. It’s not every day that I get to just write like this. Time to spread my wings a little and just dig into this.

-~-

A little more than two years ago…

Blistering cold and exalted, tranquil solitude. 

That was what the small town of Lympha was known for at the time. 

Ever since it had been founded countless centuries prior, people had ventured there to escape the overcrowding, poor living conditions, and noise that came from larger settlements. Most had been looking for an opportunity to live somewhere where opportunities abounded and resources thrived, and those that didn’t succumb to one of the region’s trademark winter storms were likely to discover just what they’d hoped to find.

It was a pilgrimage of sorts to reach the local, even in modern times. For nearly half of the year, the region was consumed by what weary locals had affectionately -or perhaps less affectionately- dubbed the “Bitter Night”, a state of seemingly neverending darkness that came with winter and was unusual given the global location of the secluded town. Thick black clouds shrouded the area in what felt like an endless winter at times, contributing to an unusually high percentage of residents suffering from almost yearlong bouts of seasonal affective disorder. It was as though the small population of fewer than two thousand residents was trapped in the iron grip of a nameless and unrelenting foe with which they hopelessly battled against. There were members of the town that had spent their whole lives there, but the majority left after less than a decade, unable or unwilling to cope with the constant cold darkness.

The silence was also a factor to take into consideration. While the peaceful silence that came with an early morning’s snowfall was something that many had come to treasure in areas of the world that we’re not constantly buried under snow, that could not be said for the residents of Lympha. Most of them were accustomed to leaving their homes for nonessential reasons due to the constant snow, leaving the area almost hauntingly quiet, a fitting backdrop for the heavily wooded fishing hamlet that set nestled between two large black snowcapped mountains, mirrored by the sizeable lake that spanned the distance between them. 

The natural beauty and splendor of the region could not be denied, but that did not change the fact that there was something eery about it that was difficult to put into words properly. Most of the locals avoided the surrounding forests with an almost religious dedication, warning anyone new to the town to do the same. And the longer that they stayed, the quicker they came to the same collective consensus. Most homes were a certain distance from the trees with only farmland bordering the thick, black woodlands. But talk of something wicked residing amongst the trees was rampant, and cattle tended to go missing during the long nights that the town was so accustomed to.

In spite of such obstacles, the small town did prosper. Exports of resources such as fish and cold weather fruit and vegetables fueled a comfortable life for the majority of the residents, and once a year during the coldest, darkest parts of the winter after the fall tourists had long since left and only the boldest locals dared to stay behind, most of the town ventured elsewhere on holiday and basked in the warmth and brightness of less supernatural pastures, savoring in their well-earned funds and taking a break from the ceaseless mists that blanked the region due to its altitude.

Despite the frequent travel, there was only one way in or out of the town. The nearly twenty-mile stretch of winding road that connected the remote village to the rest of the country was the sort of thing that only a fool would dare traverse under the cover of darkness, but it was serviceable for the most part. It had to be to sustain any sort of livable conditions for the town. Keeping it clear of ice and plowed for vehicles to pass was an essential part of the town’s functionality, and everyone felt the anxiety that came with the reality that at least once a year they would end up trapped where they were, unable to leave for any reason.

Most sane, normal people who didn’t call the settlement home avoided the Lympha outside of the fall harvest season, having no reason to go there. And that particular winter, the majority of the town had found no compelling reason to linger, either, leaving to escape what promised to be a bitter, hostile winter. Something was just different in the air that year, and it wasn’t the lingering fog. With the population down to just two hundred intrepid -or perhaps insane- prospectors, the town was essentially shut down, just as it normally was that time of year. And then the silence settled in. Everyone hunkered down and kept warm inside of their homes, only the vague flicker of warm light from inside of their homes giving any indication that the town was not, in fact, totally abandoned, it’s residents finally coming to their senses and writing it off as a lost cause before taking their families and their personal belongings and fleeing to a less spooky local.

But in spite of it all, there had been at least one person in Lympha who was willing to greet the Bitter Night with enthusiasm, a level head, and an optimistic attitude, and that was one of the newest additions of the community. After coming to town to experience the autumn festivities, the young man with the white hair that had whipped the entire town into a tizzy had weighed his options and decided to stay. Solitude had never unnerved V. He was accustomed to it, having spent the vast majority of his life up until then as a resident inside his mind as opposed to that of the physical world in order to escape the reality of the cruel world that he found himself in. But when he’d first traveled there, the silent, almost gloomy nature of the place had ignited something within him that he’d never felt before. To say that he’d felt compelled to stay would be a vast understatement, and there was simply something about the place that put him at ease, even if that ease and that almost tangible presence that he felt so comfortable with did precisely the opposite to everyone else.

He’d managed to find housing relatively easy, all things considered. There were always vacancies out towards the edge of town. No one wanted to live out there anyway, so the prices were considerably lower for much larger dwellings. Strange and unexplained events over the years had gradually pushed everyone towards the center of town leaving farmers to contend with the woods and unlucky landowners with residences that they needed to repurpose. Most were converted into rental properties for curious tourists, but long-term leases were not out of the question on the rare occasion that someone came to town and decided to stay. That had been a lucky break for him.

V realized quickly that he enjoyed taking long walks through the countryside, taking in the smoldering chimneys and feeling the crisp mountain air ghost across his face and through his hair. It wasn’t so much that he loved the cold, it was that he hated the heat with a burning passion, and was more than willing to deal with a few months of brutal cold to avoid it if that meant that the rest of the year was more to his liking. There was something tranquil about the area that put him at ease, and that was something that he treasured at that point in his life. Most people his age were just venturing out on their own for the first time, but he’d been that way his entire life. No, he was looking for something entirely different. A change of pace of sorts while he tried and failed to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life as the mounting pressure he felt from the weight of that decision slowly threatened to drive him insane. He could feel it’s tangible presence at all times, the weight never leaving him and never failing to unnerve him. It was his own darkness more physical than the dark winter that encompassed the town its self despite the fact that it was invisible, and that he knew he had another alternative that he could act upon if this did not pan out for him.

But he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to devote his life to just yet, so here he was, walking up a lonely road towards the center of town, ready for the time being to clock into his easy-going day job and to then check out of reality for a few hours as he waited pointlessly for customers to come in despite the fact that they rarely did. Gaining employment at the local bookstore had been simple, given his love of books, and it involved minimal amounts of conversation or social interaction since foot traffic was uncommon. He worked open to close for six hours and then went home each day, taking the time in between to catch up on his reading and to contemplate the horrifying serenity that was his reality. What was he to do with himself when he returned to his home later on that evening? Play the violin for a little while? Would he actually cook something this time, or just stand in his kitchen and eat cold food out of a can in his fridge in the dark like the heathen that he was? It was too early to say. After all, he hadn’t reached his place of work yet. But was it so strange to make plans for the end of the day when the day had only just begun?

He found himself absentmindedly gripping the edges of his hood and pulling it down slightly over his face as he passed a few bystanders on the street. He didn’t need to see them to know that they were staring at him as he continued up the street. Practically everyone in every place that he’d ever lived did. In spite of the fact that all he really wanted was to blend in and be left alone by those around him, his stature and unique hair color insured that that possibility was nothing more than wishful thinking.

“Don’t pay them any mind. They aren’t worth it.” He said quietly to himself as he approached the front door of the building, ready to do his quaint day job. The lights in the shop were still out from the night before, and he made a mental note to turn them on before opening the shop this time. He repressed the urge to scold himself for his inability to tune out the world around him, noting that it was not his place to do so. Why should he be made to suffer so for a simple quirk in his DNA that he could neither control nor explain?

At times, there was a part of him that wondered where his extraordinary hair color originated from. Had that been passed down as a result of his parentage, or was it the result of a medical condition he didn’t know he had? Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask either of his parents these questions. Much to his disappointment, he had never had the pleasure of meeting either of his parents, and he had no way of knowing whether or not they were even alive. It was a fact that he lamented, but it was just one of the disheartening realities that he had to come to terms with as a result of being an orphan. The place he’d been forced to call home for the cursory years of his life had no answers for him, at least none that they were willing to share with him the last time that he’d asked, and there was no way he was ever going to willingly return there. No, he’d quite literally prefer death in that scenario. By a considerable margin, if he was being honest. There was nothing but pain for him in that place. That was how it had always been and how it always would be.

He worked to put the matter aside for the time being as he prepared to open the shop. There was a small number of tasks to complete such as checking the shelves for dust and, making sure that everything was accounted for, but nothing too out of the ordinary or difficult. He took off his winter coat and draped it over the counter before tending to his meager duties, absentmindedly contemplating how the rest of the day would go, Would anyone actually come in, or would he be left alone to read again today? He’d finished the book he’d been reading the day before, so perusing the shelves for his new literary obsession was something that he had to look forward to at the very least. He could run across the street to the bakery and grab something for lunch in a few hours. The elderly couple there were welcoming, if not excessively chatty, but they were skilled and he occasionally found humor in their musings. From what he could tell, they were fairly certain that people his age didn’t read anymore, and he was always pleased to know that they were wrong about that and that he could easily prove otherwise if he ever bothered to put that much energy into their words. It was unlikely, though. He didn’t tend to actively give other people that kind of satisfaction, and wasn’t entirely sure why he cared as much as he did. Perhaps it was because they were some of the only people he really interacted with in this town. Or maybe he was just tired of being treated as though he were something inhuman monster by those around him. It was hard to say, in all honesty. Experience hadn’t helped him develop a thicker skin, it seemed.

Pitty.

Before long, he’d finished what little prep work he needed to do, and turned in the direction of the front door. The light switch was by the entrance, and he needed to flip the open sign the right way around before the store could officially accept customers. As he fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater and headed for the door, something unusual caught his eye. The store sat at the center of a Y shaped intersection facing towards the central street. As such, he had a decent view of the central sprawl, at least when it wasn’t snowing like it was today. It was rare to see anyone running around, but that was exactly what had caught his attention. V turned away, not paying much mind to the unusual sight as he reached down to unlock the door. But just as he did, two more figures came running behind the first, gaining on them. He squinted slightly as he tried to make out their approximate ages, something in the pit of his stomach telling him that something about this wasn’t quite right. To his surprised disbelief, his hunch was confirmed as the two figures in black knocked the first individual down face-first into the snow and began to carry them off.

From there, several other bystanders entered his line of sight, all of them seemingly running in a panic as more hooded figures descended upon them and attacked with blunt force weapons such as bats and metal bars. When one man ran outside from one of the local shops and started yelling, the young white haired man immediately recognized him as the bakery owner and questioned why someone his age would get involved in… whatever this horrifying situation was. Clearly, he was trying to help, but what was he hoping to achieve in this scenario?

Before he could give it any further thought, the figure in black produced what appeared to be a thin sword and stabbed the man through the abdomen, knocking him down into the street in full view of the public and the man’s horrified wife, the latter of which was calling out for help in a desperate attempt to try and understand what was going on. The figure looked at her and then violently attacked the elderly man again, never once looking away from her as if to challenge her. He clearly wanted her to be silent, but V was unable to tell whether or not he was telling her as much.

V stepped away from the door, backing away slowly as the streets filled with panicked people, all of which seemed to be fleeing the strangers in black who has descended upon the town like a plage, their intentions unclear but clearly impure, to say the least. In his petrified haste to get clear of their line of sight, V slipped over a small handcart in the isle, earning a glance in his direction. He scrambled behind one of the bookcases just as the individual in black who had been stabbing the old man looked in his general direction, seemingly cheating what had to be certain death.

Horror overtook every muscle in his body as he realized that they were under attack, the impossibility of that reality finally sinking in. He had no idea what could’ve caused this tragic scenario, but that didn’t change a thing. The older man was more than likely dead, something that immediately made V kick himself internally for thinking badly of him just a short while before, but there had to be something he could do about all of this. It didnt take a Ph.D. to figure out that if he stayed where he was any longer, then he would more than likely end up dead. Someone had to get help, and he had to do something to save himself, lest he die at the hands of these mysterious strangers who had come to his quiet little town and painted the white snow-covered streets red with the blood of his neighbors.

V’s veins ran colder than the winter winds as he realized what he had to do. And if he didn’t, he was going to die. There was no time to hesitate. He had to get out of there.

-~-

Hey everyone! I hope you liked this chapter! Getting to explore V’s background a little is going to be interesting, to say the least. I’ll see you all on Friday, but for now, thanks for reading. I hope you’re having a good week! Once again, stay safe out there!

[briannanags]

You eventually start to thank the traumas from your past, because now look at you.

Growing.

Blossoming.

Learning.

Creating.

Fall in love with:

• Life

• Today

• Yourself

And baby, I know it’s overwhelming but you made it through that, you’re alive and now you’re able to fully appreciate:

• Unconditional love

• Happiness

• People

• Places

You aren’t your past. It doesn’t have to be a “thing” you use to label yourself to “make sense to others”. You aren’t labels. You aren’t meant to be placed into categorized boxes.

You are love, endless amounts. You are light. You’re a warm cup of coffee on the coldest mornings. You’re a hug when the world is too heavy. You’re a splash of rain on the flowers that lived through the drought. You’re strength, unlimited amounts.

You’re a survivor, it’s time to realize that, you aren’t playing the victim. That those things that happened to you, aren’t okay, they aren’t normal, and that your way of dealing and healing is perfect, as long as it’s healthy for YOU. Nobody else matters. But always keep your compassion. Keep your laughter. Continue to discover pieces of yourself, and how to create something beautiful out of this crazy life.

You didn’t deserve the have those words nailed into your head, like the alphabet song..

You didn’t deserve to have your partners be unfaithful to you, to make you question yourself the way you have, it’s their loss anyway

You didn’t deserve the alcoholic parent who you can’t stand and can’t live without. Who constantly has you torn between moving forward and standing still. This is your journey, and sometimes you’ll have to travel a paths alone. If their love is genuine. It’ll always be there.

Grow baby, grow! You’re doing so good. I’m proud of you. 6 months ago you were about to end it all, you didn’t see the beauty in life anymore, your sunshine was clouded and it wasn’t your fault, baby. Those demons were struggling themself, you wanted to help, you wanted to be there. You wanted to love and be loved. I never want you to regret being soft. I never want you to be embarrassed about how your mind works, it can be cruel, dark, heart aching and depressed. But please remember, that 16 year old girl who never thought she’d see 21...

Remember her. Choose her. Pick her. Worship her. Love her. Comfort her.

Because you made it, and no one can take that away from you. They tried to take away your light but your worth and happiness, your dreams and wanted adventures are waiting for you. You’ve made it this far, you’re better than you used to be. And if no one else tells you, read this again, say this, “I never thought I’d see today, I’m thankful, I’m continuing this journey one breath, one tear, one bump or bruise at a time.

You wanted to give up and I’m so happy you didn’t. Because you’ve become a big puzzle piece in so many peoples lives. You’ve seen natural beauty, you’ve smelt the freshest, crispest air, you’ve laughed till your stomach hurt, and spent countless hours gabbing about your progress and the journey your closest friends and family are going through. They need you, just like you needed them.

On your worst days when waking up is unbearable, remember:

• Someone, somewhere, woke up today with you in mind. You were their will to live today, now make it memorable, because yesterday you didn’t want to see this day. But now, you’re here, and you’re in control, it’s time to take yourself back. Claim your heart. Claim your body. Make it everything you can, even if it’s one piece at a time.

A masterpiece isn’t completed in one day. Look at I-95 for example.

Stop asking why you aren’t them, you aren’t them because someone needed to be you, you: someone who others admire, look up to, adore and appreciate, don’t let those negative words make you forget that. People are busy, we’re all living hectic lives, finding our purpose. They do care but they may be busy, don’t overthink. Stop waiting on answers you’re never going to get because whatever it is that’s left you questioning wasn’t meant for you to begin with. Stop being so hard on yourself, this life is hard already, be gentle. Be patient

• No matter how bad you get, please don’t question your worth...don’t question your existence...don’t question your loyalty...don’t question your purpose...don’t, give, up, yet...there’s so much more to see. More songs to hear. Mores laughs to have.

You’re 23 now, you are the only one who is going to save you. So please, when you’re feeling down, feeling alone, abandoned, unlovable, useless, worthless, unintelligent just remember you have the power to change. You’re still evolving. You have years and years of lessons ahead of you. Deep breaths. Clench the wrist cuffs of your sweatshirt, curl up in a ball, drown out the world, breaking down is okay. Things need to break, in order for new things to take their place.

And finally, say this out loud, “I love you. I’m proud of you. I can’t wait to see where we’ll go next. The world is ours to grasp, to wander through as best as we can. Live this life to the fullest for those who didn’t get a chance to stop, and enjoy the view. It will be okay. Maybe not today, but I will not give up on myself. On this body and soul that make me who I am:

• Irreplaceable

• Creative

• Compassionate

• Empathetic

• Funny!

• Adventurous

• A Survivor

I love you. I love me. I will not give up on this journey, on this life given just to me to explore. I love the fresh air. I love the warm throws on the bed. I love my caramel iced coffee. I love this experience, ups and downs, roller coasters were always your favorite.

Finally, please babe, do not let the outside world and people make you cold.

You know how hard it is to carry around the “cold” of darkness, sadness, frustration and disappointment...the small things matter, your smile today could lighten someone’s load.

You love to help others, so help yourself, that way you can be the best and boldest version of you. Once you find that place of contentment, you’ll be able to pass these lessons to others.

But if you gave up today, if you threw it all away, you’d leave before so many unspoken lessons who could help save someone else...be a light, lead them home.

XO,

Brianna

PS , don’t change your outfit again, you’ll be beaming in anything you wear with that infectious smile of yours. Wipe those tears, these feelings are a part of healing, of coming to terms, accepting and releasing. This is where you need to be. I promise babygirl, you’re doing just fine. You’re doing okay.

[notasimpleslater]

“Get in the car, we’re going north. Up to the coldest cold, where only the boldest dare to go...”

(From Ethan’s song “Alaska”)

I love that line, it sounds so cool ❤️❤️

[snowmanpickins]

To wither away on the coldest winter solstice is to win the way of the depressed thoughts that grow oldest.

To hone in on the thought that glows the boldest is to win the right mindset to stand and hold bliss.

Choose right so as not to stand so hopeless.

[roguepoems]

To wither away on the coldest winter solstice is to win the way of the depressed thoughts that grow oldest.

To hone in on the thought that glow the boldest is to win the right mindset to stand and hold bliss.

So choose right so as not to disband us hopeless.

[etacanada1]

Visa Canada

Discover life within the Canadian Arctic

All the stressed spirits with a Canadian visa in hand will discover within the second largest country on the planet every thing they seek on earth: dreamy landscapes and unique locations to explore. Certainly one of them is properly located within the Northwest Territories, virtually at the finish of the world, in the midst of the Arctic region. There the boldest vacationers may have the chance to see polar bears or beluga whales in the wild and to search out the appeal of places as distant as Nahanni Nationwide Park and the cities of Whitehorse and Yellowknife. Journey 100% assured!

For each style

Huge and spectacular, the Canadian Arctic is covered in ice sheets a lot of the year. Due to this fact, vacationers ought to make the most of the quick months of summer time to enter a magical surroundings, with uncommon wildlife and hospitable individuals, who take pleasure in displaying guests each nook and cranny of the Northwest Territories of Canada.

The choices to journey the Canadian Arctic are inexhaustible. Whether the plan includes an strategy to the historical past of the place, the exploration of natural wonders, or the strategy to the wonderful local tradition , a trip to this space of ??the country is a guaranteed success. After all, a good trip begins with a very good plan. And the one point of any good plan lies in ensuring you recognize the necessities to travel to Canada, what the process and the price of the Canadian visa consists of.

Love for wildlife

Respect and admiration for the many creatures of the Arctic delves into the culture of the people of those latitudes of Canada. All of them swear that they feel very lucky to be able to stay so close to unique species and environments. However they aren't jealous of their treasure. On the contrary, Canadian residents are blissful to have the ability to guide tourists by way of these pristine landscapes. Whether on sledges, in motorized vehicles, boats, skis, airplanes or climbing, the experienceto journey this white desert is a pleasure that we all must give us, even as soon as in our lives. You simply have to take some precautions first, like knowing every thing about the visa for Canada. Along with reserving your house on a tour, bear in mind to find out the requirements to go to Canada and how much the Canadian visa costs.

When to go

In this area the inhabitants do not concern the cold. They usually might by no means concern him, in the event that they need to survive in such a tough environment. Actually, they get some advantages from the cruel winter. For instance, as soon as the lakes freeze, roads open on the icy surface and the autos move by means of them without chains. Thus, make the most of the temperature of -30 degrees Celcius, which turns the ice into a type of non-slip surface.

However regardless of the area's preparedness to receive the coldest chilly on the planet, the Canadian Arctic is finest explored between July and September, when the ice gives up a bit of territory and allows the visitor to go by way of it. The common temperature in January in Yellowknife, the capital of the Northwest Territories, is between thirteen and 21.

On this time, one of the best postcards of the northwest of Canada are obtained. It's as if nature stretched and all living beings had been awakened from a nap of a number of months. Including the polar bears (maybe probably the most photographed residents), walruses, seals and foxes take over the map, whereas hundreds of thousands of seabirds Eta Canada reproduce and take care of their little ones, on ledges or in barren islands.

There is nothing more thrilling to plan than a trip journey out of the ordinary. Not what to say if they are within the Arctic. Now, do not forget that to make it the proper getaway you need to be sure you have every little thing in order, beginning together with your Canadian visa.