#kriss is deep water

[longsightmyth]

“Do you love her?” I asked meekly. I didn’t want to see his face, but the long pause let me know that there was something deep between the two of them.

“It’s different than what you and I had. It’s quieter, maybe friendlier. But it’s steady. I can depend on Kriss, and I know without question that she is devoted to me. As you can see, there is very little certainty in my world. She’s refreshing in that way.”

"There is very little certainty in my world" are you sure about that Maxon because your job is for sure, your food is for sure, your shelter is for sure, your water is for sure, your marriage to the girl of your choice who doesn't have a say in the matter is for sure -

[badger-writes]

Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - for light and love

2 - Fluff/Humor

“...And then I told him my name was ‘Kolto’,” Kelto despaired to Jora Malli later, in the Temple Refectory.

Jora pursed her lips sympathetically, nodding. For the better part of the lunch hour, she had endured her fellow Jedi Knight’s attempt to process the encounter which had transpired between himself and Knight Sskeer in the medical bay earlier that morning. To say he was taking it rather poorly was, well - not exactly correct.

“You did well to come to a friend for support,” she said neutrally, cutting into her shaak steak - a staple of Togruta cuisine. “In my experience, attempting to bottle your emotions concerning these experiences never ends well. Instead of deferring a resolution for later, you seek closure now, so you might move on. ‘There is no emotion - ‘”

“‘There is peace’, yeah, I know, I know.” Kelto groaned and sank his face into his palms, propping his elbows on either side of his platter of Rodian foodstuffs. “Not a whole lot of peace going on here right now, though…”

“Okay - then walk me through what you’re feeling. How would you describe your emotions?”

“Uhhh… Frazzled? Flustered? Deeply conflicted and anxious? I mean, you know, with me that’s not so much a him thing as an in general thing, but, you know - ”

“Kelto,” she said, a touch sternly.

“Sorry, sorry.” 

He sighed, picked out a cranker root from the corner of his plate, and broke into it with his teeth. As he chewed, Jora looked over his right shoulder as surreptitiously as he could; sitting at another table, head bowed over his own meal, was Sskeer himself. How he’d managed to occupy the table behind them without Kelto noticing, she had no clue, but presumed he’d been too wound up in venting his emotions to notice.

From the way Sskeer had oriented his chair and met her gaze in furtive glances, she could tell he was listening. Knowing what she knew of her mutual friends, she was willing to hazard a guess that he was harboring similar conflict, though he would never say so aloud.

Perhaps the Force was providing her an opportunity to resolve both sides of this spiritual conflict at once.

“Start from the beginning,” she said, after a sip of water. “When you first saw him. What was your reaction?”

“At first? Um, well…” Kelto gulped. “Well, the first thing I noticed is that he was huge, right? Not like Dowutin huge, of course, but this guy could take an airbus going 50 over the speed regulations straight to the chest and not even feel it. A-and buff, too. Burly, even. The kind of physique a sentient like me can only dream of. The kind you chisel out of marble and put in the Galactic Museum a couple hundred years later. It was - he was very handsome, is all I’ll say.”

Sskeer, leaning over his dish, perked up. A bemused smirk plied its way onto his face. 

“I’m fairly certain he’s not that physically impressive,” Jora cut in, speaking to them both.

“I mean, yeah, probably not. But that’s just how I felt! I couldn’t help it, I jumped straight into awkwardly crushing on him and I’d only seen him for like two seconds.”

“And then you saw his many scorch marks. From his errant training session.”

“Right,” Kelto said, as Sskeer snorted behind him. “Which - should probably be the first thing I pick up on, as a healer. But what do you want me to say? This morning was almost as much of a disaster as I am.”

“Kelto,” she said warningly.

“I-I can’t help it, Jora. I make jokes when I feel nervous or awkward. Which is almost all the time.”

“But they don’t all need to have you as the butt,” she said, jabbing at him through the air with her fork. “Be kinder to yourself, please. Make it a habit. For me?”

“R-right. Sorry.”

“Keep going. What did you think when you first started talking?”

The Rodian took a slice of galma fruit and popped it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly. “To be honest, I thought he was a nut,” he said with a shrug.

This time when Sskeer glanced over, he looked just a touch offended.

“A nut,” Jora repeated. The surprise in her voice was largely an affectation; she knew Sskeer had adopted odd, borderline overzealous habits in the pursuit of becoming a Jedi Guardian. She teased him for it occasionally, a reaction to which he’d become accustomed. Here, though, she sensed an opportunity for someone else to do her dragging for her - apparently quite candidly.

“Oh, sure. I mean, who else do you know sets the training droids a couple notches above safety standards so he can really feel it when he gets spanked with a training saber, huh?”

She sputtered into her cup, lifting a hand to hide a smile. She really wouldn’t have taken that drink if she knew that sentence was coming.

“Right?!” Kelto gestured animatedly, oblivious to Sskeer glaring daggers over his shoulder. “How is that supposed to make you a better Jedi?”

“I’m sure he has good reasons,” she coughed, thumping her chest. “Being a protector - it requires a certain discipline.”

“I wouldn’t call that discipline. I’d call that masochism. But only because I’m a coward,” he confessed.

“Be kind.”

“It’s a joke!”

“You say it too easily. Like you believe it’s the truth.”

“It kind of is. That’s what makes it funny.”

She gave him a look. Sskeer did, too. His was less pointed, though.

“Assuming that’s true,” Jora continued, “Allow me to pull from your earlier statements two points: one, you find him physically attractive. Two, his habits confuse you. Would you say that’s accurate?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Very well. Is there anything else that you’d like to joke about, since that’s apparently the only way of pulling a straight answer out of you?”

“I can give straight answers!”

“Feel free anytime, for Force’s sake.”

Sskeer was smirking again, she noticed, poking around on his plate. Apparently, he found the way her scheme to annoy him with secondhand ridicule had imploded on her amusing, the bastard.

Kelto sighed, deflating slightly. “I - look, I’m sure he’s not as strange as I’m making him out to be. Just, you know… really serious. But I didn’t really get much else out of him while he was there.”

“You used Force healing on him, as I recall. That didn’t merit any kind of response?”

“O-oh yeah, I did do that! He seemed… pretty impressed, I guess. I - wasn’t really expecting that, to be honest.”

“And he caught you before you passed out. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“True, true. And then he held me up til I recov - “ Suddenly, Kelto’s cheeks went a deep shade of green. “A-actually, let’s not get back into that part.”

“Why?” Jora cocked her head, montrals shifting. “I wasn’t aware there was anything wrong with catching feelings unexpectedly.”

“I mean - mmmaybe not, no. I - I just don’t think I, you know, kept control of them very well there.”

“We’re only mortal, Kelto. You’re in your right to forgive an occasional emotion.”

“I--” The Rodian checked over his shoulder - the wrong one - and leaned in close, framing his huge, panicky eyes with both hands. “Jora, I was full-on touching his chest.”

Behind him, Sskeer’s eyes went wide, and he too wound up coughing water back into his glass. It served him right, Jora thought.

“He was holding you in his arms,” she said evenly. “You were disoriented. Worse things have happened.”

“Y-yeah, but - but I don’t want to end up like that horndog Elzar Mann!”

No sooner had Sskeer finished clearing his lungs than he had to duck and press his face into the crook of his elbow to stifle a laugh, so as to avoid being discovered.

“Really, have you seen that guy make eyes at Avar Kriss lately?” Kelto continued conspiratorially. “They hide it so poorly! It’s a wonder the Council hasn’t stepped in yet.”

“I doubt it’s much of a priority for either Master Lahru, Veter, or Yoda to be poking their noses into what two consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedchambers.”

“I mean - if word ever really gets out, it technically will be!”

“Only technically,” she retorted.

Kelto blinked. “Oh no,” he murmured. “This isn’t going to be another one of your lectures, is it?”

Jora hesitated for only half a second. “All I’m saying is if you really look at the Code--”

“If you start talking about the difference between celibacy and purity again--”

“‘Attachment’ is not the same thing as connection, to suggest otherwise is such a literalist misinterpretation--”

Gesticulating, Jora caught the eye of Sskeer again. He was grinning like a nexu, the scaly skink.

“What I mean to say is,” she said, waving her hands in some vague effort to get them both back on-track, “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling right now, Kelto. Nothing whatsoever. It’s only a natural part of life, just like joy and sorrow.”

“Yeah, duh,” he replied, peeling a hardboiled vakiir egg. “Not my first day out of the creche. It just - I don’t know, it feels weird not being able to act on it.”

“Why?”

“Well, the big one is the Code, but let’s not get into that again. The other half is - well, Jora, I barely know him. I don’t even know if he likes me as a person, let alone romantically, or… you know, like that. But I can’t imagine he would.”

Jora risked a peek, raising an eyebrow. Sskeer shrugged, nonplussed, in a manner that communicated either that he could take or leave him - or just the general sentiment of ‘what do you want from me?’. Possibly both at once. In return, she flattened the eyebrow and pursed her lips to sardonically ‘thank’ him for his ‘help’.

“Why do you presuppose the inevitability of rejection, in either case?”

“I just - I don’t know, I’m a pessimist. What else do you want me to say, Jora? We live in totally different worlds.”

“Not that different. You are both Jedi. And remember what he called you before he left - a credit to the Order, I believe were his words?”

“That’s what everyone says after getting Force healed,” Kelto grumbled, rubbing the back of his head under his pom.

She shook her head doubtfully, skewering another bite of steak. “You’re focused too much on the banality of your own excellence,” she said, chewing. “Think back to his reaction. How he spoke to you. The way he looked at you. What did he think of you while you were together?”

He shrugged helplessly. Then his brow furrowed in thought. “Well, I guess… there were times when he seemed to pick up on - you know, everything I was going through. Granted, I wasn’t being very subtle, but…

“I guess I’d say he was being… patient? Like he understood I was a little… distracted by him. Well, he was a little touchy about the ‘masochist’ comment, but… he didn’t, like, tell me to settle down or anything. And then there were some weird moments where he - I don’t know, was trying to joke with me?”

“How so?”

“Like... being sort-of flirty, but not really? Like when he leaned back on the table, he had this little smile, and then when he left he sort of whispered right into my ear? Little things like that.”

“Oh yes. ‘Little things’. Like whispering in your ear.”

Kelto blinked owlishly. “... I mean. Do people not… do that?”

“Generally, in polite company? No.”

“Oh.” Kelto’s flush deepened. “Oh.”

“You really should leave the healing halls and try talking to people every once in a while, Kelto.”

“You don’t think he was…? F-for me? And I missed it??”

“I don’t know,” Jora hummed. “Without him here to speak for himself, I can’t say. I suppose you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Kelto whined, sinking his face into his hands. “But that means I have to talk to him,” he protested.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly. “That’s how having a dialogue is supposed to work.”

“I-I can’t talk to him! I mean-- I made such a fool of myself earlier! You really think I can just… speak to him, normally?”

“Well, if you don’t, what’s your backup plan?”

“Useless gay pining, mostly. Or leaving the Order, maybe?”

“Kelto.”

“Look at me, Jora. I’m not built to carry a torch for anybody. I-I can barely make eye contact with people I’m not crushing on. My best chance at this point is just going back to the healing halls and hoping he doesn’t come back in too often. Maybe I’ll move rooms, now that he knows where my ward is. I’ll ask about it.”

“You can’t just hide from your problems in the medical bay, Kelto.”

“Why not? I--” Kelto bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. “Dammit, Jora, what else am I supposed to do?”

She dropped her fork on her plate and framed the sides of her face with her hands, as he had done earlier. “Literally just talk to him.”

“H-how? I’m not - I’m not brave enough, okay? What am I supposed to do?”

She groaned, folding her palms over her eyes. Through her fingers, she could see Sskeer raising his brow, lifting out of his chair slightly; not yet, she thought, shaking her head just slightly. He sat back down, but still seemed concerned.

“Indulge me,” Jora said finally, leaning her elbows on the table and holding out her hands towards Kelto, as if she were trying to physically channel the confidence to hold a single conversation into him through the Force. “Take a moment, don’t think about how you think you did, or what you thought he was thinking, in those moments. Don’t think about possible futures where you’re together or just friends or outright rejected. Just-- think about what you felt. How he made you feel. Don’t focus on yourself. Just find your center, search your feelings... and tell me what you find.”

Kelto opened his mouth - closed it - looked down at the tabletop, drumming his fingers. “I…”

From behind, Sskeer watched him think. Anticipation glimmered in his eyes.

“...I like him,” Kelto decided. “Really, I do. He’s… patient and serious, and respectful, once you earn it. A little intense, obviously, but… strong, and driven. I’d… I want to know him better. However that happens.”

“And your other feelings?”

He took a slow, deep breath. “I… can move past them, if I really have to. It’s what we’re trained for. It’s just… powerful, I guess is the word. I didn’t see it coming. It… knocked me off my feet.”

“I’m told that’s often how it feels,” Jora said kindly.

He nodded shyly.

“Do you plan to ask him?”

“Not - not right away, I don’t think. I-- that’s not the right foot for any relationship to get off on, I don’t think. Like putting the hovercart before the roth, you know? It’d define the whole-- no, no. I want to start as friends. And if he turns me down, then… then we’ll stay friends, and I’ll be okay. I- I want to do it right. … For both of us. For him, mostly, but… yeah.”

Kelto shrugged as he finished, going back to picking at his plate. Behind him, Sskeer’s face had shifted just enough that Jora knew he’d been affected.

“Well said,” she said simply, as Sskeer took his plate and stood.

“You think so?”

“Well, it was better put than the lust-flavored word vomit you began with.”

“Look, when I say the man’s thighs are like wroshyr trunks and his chest is like a set of Weequay thunder drums, I’m only half-joking. He’s genuinely an impressive specimen. It’s a compliment.”

“You get to say all of that, but I’m the one bending the Code?”

He snorted. “Jora, please. We may be technically sworn to celibacy, sure, but we’re not dead, either.”

“Pardon me,” a deep voice said from behind him.

Kelto bit down on a yelp. Every joint in his body seemed to lock up so he sat straight upright. His eyes went as wide as the Temple’s dinner platters.

“Jedi Sskeer,” Jora Malli said, conversationally. “What a lovely surprise.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear someone talking rather loudly about myself,” he replied easily, “so I thought I’d stop by. Is this seat taken?”

“Not at all. Please, join us.”

He sat down right next to Kelto. The Rodian seemed to shrink, quailing.

“How much did you overhear, incidentally?” Jora asked, returning to finish off the last of her steak.

“Enough to know better than to take offense,” Sskeer replied, tucking into his karkan ribene. “Life is too ssshort to worry about the occasional social faux pas, isn’t it, little healer?”

Kelto’s throat bobbled. He looked to Jora to throw him a lifeline; in response, she only raised her eyebrows.

His eyes rolled back to the plate before him - then narrowed. He set his jaw and took a long, gulping swallow of his Rodian ale, an action that left his snout twisting for a moment afterward. Then he turned in his seat towards the Trandoshan.

“We should probably start over,” he said, putting out his hand. “I’m Kelto. Kelto Lem. It’s - great to meet you, Sskeer.”

Sskeer sent Jora a sidelong glance. She nodded.

“Likewise,” he returned, clasping the Rodian’s hand in his own.

“Um - no hard feelings about… anything from earlier, right?”

“Consider the slate wiped clean.”

“Oh. … Good.” That was easy, his eyes seemed to say, as he disengaged from the handshake.

Jora Malli sensed her work here was done. “I have a velocities demonstration with the younglings coming up,” she said, gathering her utensils and standing up. “I suppose I’ll leave you to it.”

“Of course,” Sskeer said graciously. He turned back to Kelto. “Would you prefer to move to the other side of the table, that we may face each other?”

Kelto blinked. “Uh - sure! You, you won’t mind, will you, Jora?”

“Don’t look at me,” she said, shrugging. “I won’t even be here.” She turned, deposited her empty plate and glass at an appropriate refuse station, and departed without further fanfare.

Gingerly, Kelto repositioned himself and his lunch to the other side of the table, sitting right before Sskeer. When he pushed in his chair, he seemed to be sitting a little taller.

“So, uh. Hello again.”

Sskeer smiled, shook his head, and took a bite of ribene.

[quilloftheclouds]

The Narrators of One Siren’s Soul

I narrowed my eye. Manipulative bastard. That’s what she was. Trying to make me care about what happened to her.

Well, it was working. I gritted my teeth.

NAME: Celestine Martínez... we think. PRONOUNS: “I don’t care.” - She/They/He AGE: Unknown - Looks about 14, is definitely not 14. OCCUPATION: "Borrowing" things, building odd contraptions from various trinkets DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Missing left eye; light blue iris; cloud-like curls; very short.

Tag | Intro/Playlist | PoV Excerpt

She really did think a sailor’s tale existed, didn’t she? But… sirens couldn’t be real. They couldn’t. They were just a made up story to explain all the shipwrecks along the rocky coasts, even when the areas were well understood and the lighthouses clearly marked them… right?

NAME: Nicolas “Colin” Wysote PRONOUNS: Cis Man - He/Him AGE: Early twenties OCCUPATION: Deckhand on board the Diluculo DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Heterochromia (light hazel and dark brown); long wavy hair; constant optimism. Also is currently a dog.

Tag | Intro/Playlist | PoV Excerpt

Even in the sun’s glare, the girl’s maroon dress was obvious against the blue sky. In the ship’s rigging.

Fifteen meters up.

Oh fer God’s sake. I’m gonna get meself thrown overboard by the end ‘a this.

NAME: Chichima “Phoenix” Solarin PRONOUNS: Trans Woman - She/Her AGE: Mid-twenties OCCUPATION: First mate of the Compass DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Vitiligo; very tall, and very well-built; wears a red bandana all the time; might be a bit of a pyro.   

Tag | Intro/Playlist | PoV Excerpt

I drew a deep breath, the salt of the air burning my lungs and skin that had not touched water for centuries. I released it in a sigh.

The spell had a small range. If I did blunder, at the very least only I would be affected.

NAME: Dione Nikolaeva PRONOUNS: Non-binary - She/Her/They/Them AGE: Unknown - Looks about 24, rumoured to be over 300 OCCUPATION: Doing witchy things (aka no one has any idea) DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Unnaturally vivid green eyes; green hair tips; very tall; doesn’t speak; wears a big furred cloak.

Tag | Intro/Playlist | PoV Excerpt

Find links and tags for One Siren’s Soul under the cut!

WIP Page | General Tag | Excerpts | Inspo Tag | Worldbuilding Tag

Hey look! Cool divider thingies! I have absolutely no idea why I made this. I guess it’s an intro thing? Say hello to the main cast of One Siren’s Soul!

OSS Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @half-explored @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @bloomseey-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dcdarrells @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @scribe-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost----souls @penumbrics @dove-actually @kriss-the-writing-nerd @vhum @writinginslowmotion @wrenegade-writes @livingthelovelylife @wildswrites @kowlazovdi @weathershade @thewritinggodmother @ettawritesnstudies @belles-library @emdrabbles @iced-ginger-tea @griffinwriting @hermiones-writeblrr @milkyway-writes @writeblrbraindump @thewritinggodmother @dowings @evelyn-paine 

[lotstradamus]

LAH TEE!! So I’ve been over on skincare addiction zhuzzing tf out of my routine because I finally have nearly flawless skin baby so let’s fuck with it because we’re giant nerds who don’t know how to quit when they’re ahead. And I’m wondering what your current skincare routine is like!! I remember you posting about it like maybe a year or two ago? Back when I thought skincare was apricot scrub and ponds cold cream. Anything working for you these days? Any new holy grail products?? Please share!

OI OIIIIII 

I have pretty much Perfected my skincare routine and for the first time in at least two years I’m not constantly on the hunt for products to shove into my routine willynilly that will undoubtedly break me out, so I have a Refined List for you (of products that YOU can shove into your routine willynilly, ayyyyy).

morning:

Kiehl’s Calendula Foaming Face Wash – a nice gentle cleanser so I have a fresh, clean, bebe face to start the day

Glossier Solution exfoliator – god! send! (I will only use this in the morning if I HAVEN’T used Good Genes the night before, otherwise it’s too much for my face and I turn into a tomato) 

LUSH Eau Roma Water – I will spritz morning noon and night

Kiehl’s Ultra Facial Cream – The Only Moisturiser For Me

Caudalie Anti-Aging Face Suncare SPF50 – I’m baby (and baby exfoliates with acids) 

night (makeup removers):

Johnson’s Baby Lotion on a cotton pad – so, so gentle on delicate skin; destroys mascara in seconds 

Bioderma Sensibio Micellar Water – if I’ve had heavy makeup on then I use this after the Baby Lotion for stubborn eyeliner and any residue

Glossier Milky Jelly cleanser – if I’m showering at night I take my makeup off while I’m in there with Milky Jelly (it also DISAPPEARS my pores after use, which is nice) and then double cleanse with the Kiehl’s Calendula cleanser 

night night:

LUSH Eau Roma Water

Sunday Riley Good Genes Glycolic Acid Treatment – I KNOW I’M BOUGIE. I KNOW IT. but this is my #1 holy grail product and is worth every single spenny penny. I started using it once a week and have worked up to using it every second or third night, and it is just so good. I wake up and I look like a glowing angel. it smoothes, it exfoliates, it knocks spots on the head, it’s everything. and my INCREDIBLY PRICEY bottle has lasted me almost 6 months now, so it has the range. 

Kiehl’s Ultra Facial Cream

optional extras depending on how much junk food I’ve been eating: 

COSRX Acne Pimple Master Patch – if you have a spot that needs poppin these are gonna save your whole life - pop, put one of these hydrocolloid bad boys on it, go to bed, wake up healed 

Bioré Deep Pore Charcoal Cleanser – I like using this with freezing cold water when I’m hungover and want to punish myself but also look beautiful and not greasy 

Aztec Secret Indian Healing Clay mask – I use it with apple cider vinegar. it smells so weird and it’s a hassle to make up and apply but it’s THE BEST clay mask out there! and I say that with the authority of someone who tried GlamGlow Supermud and had an allergic reaction 

Swiss Kriss herbal laxative flakes – listen. LISTEN. tablespoon of this HERBAL LAXATIVE + a bowl of boiling water + your head and the bowl in a towel tent hot box = clear, bouncy, refreshed skin. it’s everything. I’m sorry you have to buy laxatives to make that happen but it is what it is

there you have it. I always feel like I have Too Much, but then I read an Into the Gloss Top Shelf and I’m like lol. IF you fancy trying some Glossier but think it’s a bit spenny, use this link to get 10% off!

I would also like to say for the record that Pond’s Cold Cream is an institution and a classic and I have a pot of it to hand at all times JUST IN CASE I do shit like this to my face and don’t have the energy to painstakingly take it off with 50000 cotton pads 

[bookenders]

Congrats on 800! For a short story: dragon, found family. @royalbounties

[Help me celebrate 800!]

Hi there @royalbounties! Thanks so much!

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever written about dragons before. This was a fun one, so I guess that means I’ll have to write more dragons!

The cave was hot and damp like the breath of an old god. Thick air fogged up Dolan’s goggles as he wove around the stalagmites and pools of limpid water, careful not to breathe too loudly. His thick insulated coat and boots, not unlike what his town’s fire fighters wore on shift, though more flexible in his case, weighed him down and slowed his steps. He didn’t mind; in these situations, sometimes slow and steady was the way to go. This wasn’t the first time he had entered a dragon’s lair, and he was keen on making sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

He adjusted the heavy bag strapped around his shoulders and carried on.

Deeper and deeper into the cavern he went, the light from behind him fading into near pitch darkness. Dolan reached up and flipped the lenses of his goggles, dropping the grey dark vision glass before his eyes. They’d updated this model a few months ago, having observed Dweller Drakes long enough to learn how they get around in their narrow caves and deep-reaching burrows. Turns out, it wasn’t their claws, it was their eyes. Go figure.

Dolan was close enough now to hear low, scraping breaths, hissing in and out through great bellow lungs. A few yards away, poking out of the stone near the mouth of the widest portion of the cave, was the first marker stone, glowing a dark purple among the dull brown rocks. Just a few more steps and he would be in the belly of the dragon’s lair.

Stepping carefully over steep boulders and great cracked eggshells, Dolan crept closer and closer to the slumbering dragon. Her bellow breaths hushed over the damp walls like a wide shore, massive nostrils flaring with every huff. She was one of the bigger wingless ones he’d ever seen. Her bronze scales were scored and scratched on her left side from a painful past, though she had filled out over the years, thank goodness. 

Dolan’s left foot landed on a wet patch of rock and he slipped, kicking a smooth stone and sending it cracking to the cave floor. He froze and held his breath, clutching the bag’s straps to his shoulders, eyes on the sleeping dragon.

Who wasn’t sleeping anymore. Her big green eye fluttered open and looked straight at him. He grimaced and slipped his goggles off, relying on the luminescent stones set into the walls like cluttered sconces.

“Sorry, Margery,” Dolan said, and swiped a gentle hand over her nose. “Don’t mean to bother you, just got another kiddo for ya.” 

Margery huffed and lifted her left leg. Underneath, nestled against her soft stomach, were three iridescent eggs, each the size of a small child. The biggest one, a shiny robin’s egg blue with yellow-gold swirls, is the oldest. Should hatch any day now, judging by how it quivered every few moments. The other two, both about the same size, were mottled red and green, one spotted with brown and the other striped with purple. 

Dolan carefully swung the bag off his shoulders and set it on the ground. Reaching inside, he jimmied out a large white egg, nearly pearlescent in the low light, splotched with indigo cow spots. 

“Found this little one in an abandoned nest on the cliff side, poor thing,” he said, gingerly hefting the egg into his arms and waddling toward the rest of the brood. “Not sure what kind it is, yet, though. Gotta have Jenna take a look-see when she gets back from the conference tomorrow.” 

Dolan squatted down and set the egg next to the blue and yellow one, a Sky Hopper, if their guesses were right. Once the egg hatched, the baby would be delivered to a foster mom of the same breed to learn how to be a dragon. If all turned out well, this one would be on their way to Australia by next week. 

Margery snorted when Dolan stood back up and cracked his back. 

“Oi,” he chided, “you try carrying something half your size for half a league and see how you like it, lady.”

The bronze dragon rolled her eyes at Dolan and turned to nuzzle the new egg next to its new siblings. She pressed her snout against the shell and breathed a small lick of green flame to warm it up in what they’d learned was a kind of hug.Dolan carefully stepped to the mouth of the cave, much easier now that he didn’t have a fifty pound weight on his back, and turned to glance back at Margery.

“Need anything while I’m out?”

She snuffed and laid her head back down.

“Alrighty, then. Nim should be in tomorrow morning to check on the new kid.” Dolan waved a thick, gloved hand. “See ya later, alligator.” He heard Margery groan behind him and he giggled into the dark.

Dolan slipped his goggles back over his eyes and made for the exit, smiling the whole way.

He really did love his job.

I replied to a post about “deceitful tension” a few days ago, and this is a good an example of how I do it. 😊

Want more original fiction?  Take a gander at my original writing tag and my short stories tag!

For writing advice and observations, check out my advice tag.

Want info on my WIPs? Have a look-see at me WIP page!

Do you like the way I put words together? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi! (Link in my blog description!)

Want to be added to my original fiction tag or my WIP tags? Let me know! 😊

Originals Tag List: @piratequeenofpixies, @quilloftheclouds, @snickertoodles, @carmenwrites, @purpleshadows1989, @ofvisitorsthefairest, @theevolutionofledarose, @kriss-the-writing-nerd, @waterfallwritings

[magicmonstersandmischief]

BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG.

Steph:

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched

Ash:

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched

Kriss:

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched

tagged by @deathsuffers

tagging: whoever wants idk

[phyrexian-mama]

Fanwalker Friday - Whisper

I haven’t really done fanwalker friday before because I don’t really have the skills to illustrate them and was insure if people really wanted to read about them. BUT fuck it - I want to talk about my characters even if no one cares :p

Description first - backstory below the cut

Whisper is a Lorwyn elf. His pale skin is marred by rough and jagged scars that cover both forearms and travel up over his right shoulder where some of the skin no longer grows. Similar scars can be found across his body, but that is where they are most notable. He is missing his left horn, which was snapped off abruptly near the base, and another scar runs across his right cheek and through his hair below his right horn, causing the hair to grow unevenly. Most notably, however, are the bright white burn scars that blossom over his throat and into the soft tissue underneath. These scars make him unable to speak louder than a soft whisper - hence the nickname he goes by.

His first “walk” after his spark ignited was to Ravnica, where he met with the Selesnya Conclave. He felt at home with them, because unlike on Lorwyn, he was not critiqued for his appearance, and instead was able to be comfortable cultivating the culture he loved. He has a tall staff with various loops and knots that he grows various plants on - flowers, moss, vines, and fungus. His pride and joy… and the eventual source of his revenge… are a small number of Moonglove blossoms that crown the top of the staff.

He is incredibly thin with high cheekbones and pointed features. He wears varying layers of cloth and leather to hide his small frame, and to protect him from the elements.

He is centered in green, but is also black and white (speaking about magic colors, of course)

And now, for Whisper’s story.

Whisper was an elf from Lorwyn - no one important, only of Faultless caste. But he was happy and had his friends, and that was enough.

Whisper wasn’t his given name, of course. He couldn’t remember his given name anymore. Not that he cared to. It no longer mattered.

See, Whisper and his friends spent years maintaining a beautiful garden together that sprawled carefully through the Gilt-Leaf Wood. Truly it was Whisper’s work that kept the garden flourishing - whether it was magic or natural talent that allowed him to tame even the most stubborn of plants was hard to tell - but they all owned it in some way or another.

As he was tending the garden one day, a pack of boggarts began to tear through the carefully manicured and stylized garden. Whisper watched in horror as the beautiful flowers and vines he and his friends had worked together to grow were tossed recklessly into air by the cackling creatures. Having no choice, he threw himself into their path, attempting to beat them back.

Having no combat skills to speak of, he was easily overwhelmed by the horde. He watched in horror as his slender, flawless arms were torn into with stone and wood, exposing bone and sinew in a horrific display. He felt tears sting his eyes as a particularly large boggart snapped off one his horns with glee. But he would not fall - and after a time, after countless wounds, the boggarts grew weary of this plaything, and Whisper was able to chase them off.

He was in poor shape. A glance at himself in a nearby puddle of water caused him to recoil - surely that unkempt, asymmetrical monstrosity wasn’t him? He couldn’t return home like this, so he waited in that precious garden, repairing the damage the boggarts had wrought, until his friends could come and help them.

The hours were long, but just as the sun began to set he heard footsteps and the beautiful flute-like timbre of his friend’s voices approaching. He could feel relief envelope him as he stood shakily, leaning onto a fallen branch for support, and went to meet him.

“Tyra, Kriss, Nyila - I’m so glad you’re here! These boggarts came and-” but Whisper lost his words as he saw the faces of his friends contort in disgust.

“… what have you done to yourself” Kriss spat, as though the act of speaking to Whisper filled his mouth with a foul taste. Whisper looked down at his dirt caked clothes, his arms that were already beginning to scar from the boggart’s attacks. He felt tears rising once more as he looked up.

“I… the boggarts, they tried to ruin the garden, but… but I stopped them! Look, our precious gard-” but he was cut off by a sharp slap, delivered by Tyra’s delicate hand. Hatred burned in her eyes.

“Do not call this your garden. Not anymore.” Whisper was stunned. These were his friends. How could they turn on him so quickly, after all he had done. “You were a friend once, so I give you this one mercy - leave the woods. Now. And never return”

He felt the blood in his veins turn to ice as Tyra’s words struck him deeper than any wound the boggarts had inflicted. He scanned the faces of those before him, desperate to find a sliver of compassion, of the friends he thought he knew. But all he found was contempt, pity. Disgust. Hatred. He stood tall - as tall as his injuries would allow - and set his jaw.

“No. I’m not leaving. This garden is my work. I won’t be chased out like some common eye-blight for defending it” Nyila stepped forward, her face cold with resolve.

“Then you leave us no choice. Kriss” with no more peompting than the sound of his name, Kriss quickly grabbed Whisper by the hands and flung him onto the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs and pinning him to the earthen floor. Tyra braced her hoof over his hips, keeping his weak body locked in place as Nyira plucked the pristine white flower of a Moonglove plant off of a nearby bush.

Panic began to rise in his chest, and before he knew it he was crying and gasping out “please, please, no, don’t do this. Please, we’re friends” as the words left his mouth, Nyira crouched over his torso, looking at him like one might look at a particularly disturbing bug in the rubbish, and held the oozing flower aloft.

“We’re not friends, little eye-blight. And I’ll make sure you don’t decide to say something so insulting ever again” she crushed the flower, and Whisper watched in horror as the silvery white fluid from the bulb of the Moonglove came pouring out, hissing as it sliced through the air.

He had seen artists use diluted Moonglove extract to trace delicate patterns on skin - it was a painful and risky process that resulted in stunning pure white works of art displayed on the body.

This was not art.

This was pain.

The extract splashed across his neck and began eating into his throat without pause. He felt cold fire rip a scream loose from deep within his chest, before the unbearable pain in his throat silenced it. And as quickly as they began, his screams became whispers.

But the pain was only beginning. A cruel smile played over Nyila’s delicate features as she watched the scar tissue blossom across his throat and eat through his flesh. Whisper writhed in panic, his instincts going wild as he grasped desperately for some escape.

The burning in his throat grew, and spread, until his entire body felt engulfed. He wept, he screamed, and he begged the earth to consume him.

And suddenly he was weightless. Numb. All he could see was white as he fell through nothingness.

“Am I dead?” He wondered. Unsure if that would be such a bad thing if he was. But soon the nothingness took shape, and before he knew it he found himself lying in a well manicured flower bed - white flowers with broad, soft petals seemed to cling to his every movement as he hesitantly sat up and looked around.

“Well you’re the strangest flower I’ve ever seen” a gentle voice spoke up from behind Whisper. He turned to see a tall woman, who reminded him of the elves from home in stature. But her ears were small and pointed, and she lacked horns and hoof. She was wearing strange layered robes of deep, mossy green and cream white, and seemed to be coming to tend the flowers Whisper had found himself.

Embarrassed, he crawled out and brushed the loose petals from his clothes. Not daring to meet the eyes of someone so beautiful, Whisper cast a shameful look towards the ground and attempted to apologize.

“I’m sor-” the words burned in his throat, and he gasped in pain, clutching at the burned and scarred flesh that now blossomed over his neck. The woman was quickly at his side, her hands guiding him gently to a bench just a few steps away.

“Don’t force yourself. Whisper if you must.” He took a seat, nodding as tears stung his eyes, threatening to spill down his raw cheeks. She was patient, and kept her hand resting on his back as she waited for him to find his voice. In the silence, Whisper became more aware of the ambient sound around him - unlike the quiet rustling of leaves found in the Gilt-Leaf Woods, this was a medley of voices and animal cries, of booming construction and travel, of energy. He finally forced himself to lift his eyes from the ground, and was struck by the wonder of what he saw.

Before him was a massive tree - larger than anything he had ever found on Lorwyn - that towered high into the sky and branched in every direction. Carefully designed trellises and gates created areas to lounge and live among its branches, and carefully cultivated gardens seemed to flourish across its bark. But what truly caught his eye, was the skyline beyond the tree.

In every direction as far as he could see, spires and towers stretched into the sky, circled by all manner of winged creature. Streets could be seen past the garden everywhere he turned, and were crowded with people of every race imaginable, as well as many he could never have even dreamed of. Whisper turned to the elf woman beside him, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Where…. where am I?” He forced the hoarse whisper from his throat. The woman smiled, and held aloft an ornate wooden pendant hanging from her neck.

“You are in the Selesnya Conclave gardens. Not from from Ravnica’s tenth district. Were you part of some Izzet experiment gone wrong? You seem awfully confused…” Whisper shook his head, trying to process what he was being told. He had never heard of Ravnica before. Admittedly he had never traveled too far beyond the woods he once called home, but surely he would have known about something like this.

“How far is it to the Gilt-Leaf Woods from here?” He asked, and the woman frowned, her head lilting to the side.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that. Gilt-Leaf… sounds lovely though! I should visit some time!” The woman continued on pleasantly, as Whisper sunk in on himself. He wasn’t sure how, or why… but he was beginning to realize that Lorwyn was long gone.

It had been a year since Whisper had found Ravnica. Not knowing what else to do, he had joined the Selesnya Conclave, and had quickly become a beloved member for his skills with the plants. He had been hesitant at first, after his interaction with his friends. Well… not friends, not anymore. Not ever, he had realized. But he quickly came to find that those hear did not care about the appearances of their members. They believed that nature had a purpose for everything - it was your job to guide it to that purpose, and take even the most despicable looking plant, and cultivate it into something beautiful. And so he did just that.

He eventually came to understand that he was a planeswalker, and what that meant. He had traveled to other planes on occasion. Never for long, and he always returned to his new home on Ravnica. But on his travels, he collected plants for his personal garden. He carried with him a gnarled staff, lovingly crafted by a woodshaper who seemed to enjoy his company from a fallen tree. He took inspiration from the design of Vitu-Ghazi, and crafted small barriers into the wood, where he cultivated small samples of plants. Rare moss, potent fungus, striking flowers, and creeping vines all found a home on his staff. He took great care in creating a small garden that seemed wild to the untrained eye, but was expertly planned and maintained.

He did not maintain this project out of whimsy, however. Every plant here served a purpose. Every one of them could be crafted into a potent poison - many of them dangerous to even touch and grow. He had the scars on his fingers to prove it, in fact. The crowning example of this, and the reminder of why he did it all, was the crown of Moonglove that beautifully circled the top of the staff.

He had come to find peace with his appearance, and had accepted that the elves of Lorwyn were no friends of his. He no longer burned with anger or shook with fear. Instead, he did what he did best - he cultivated the dark seed of hatred that had taken root in his core. He waited, patiently, and plotted his revenge. And one day, he would take back his garden, and show those who had once deigned to call themselves his friends just how fragile their supposed perfection was.

Touch of Moonglove by Scott Murphy

[coolwitchcollectorstuff]

Fallout 4 Mod List  (Part 2)

the mod links is coming soon 

Immersion

Automatically Lowered Weapons

Immersive Vendors

Long Range Bullet Holes

Pip-Boy Flashlight 

Player Comments and Head Tracking

Rain of Brass

Settlement Menu Manager

Small blur Crafting screen background

Modders Resources and Tutorials

Armor and Weapon Keywords Community Resource (AWKCR)

See-Through-Scopes Framework

Settlement Keywords Expanded

No more room bounds pre culling in interior cells 

Boston FPS Fix - aka BostonDT PreVis-PreCombine 

Corpse Cleaner - Commonwealth and Addons for DLC

Models and Textures

AK5C Skin Packs

Ammo Retexture

Assaultron Combatron

Assaultron Miscellaneous Armor

Better Computer Terminals 4k

Better Quarry Sites

Better Rubble

Bottles Labels Overhaul - 2k

Deep Spiritual Eyes FO4

Electrical Tower 8K 4K 2K 

Enhanced Blood Textures

Evil Institute HD

Eyewear and mask retexture

Fences HD 

FO4 SUN

Ghouls Revamped 

Gore Overhaul 3.0

High Resolution Texture Pack 2K 

Humanoid Assaultrons - Dlx_assaultron

Immersive Mouth and Teeth 

Improved Map with Visible Roads 

Ivy HD 

Prydwen 2K Textures 

Street Signs Retexture

Synth Overhaul - C.A.S.T

The Eyes Of Beauty Fallout Edition

Sim Settlements - Conqueror

Sim Settlements -  Three-in-One

NPC

Immersive Facial Animations REMADE

Looks Menu Customization Compendium

Pip-boy

PIP-Pad 

Player Settlement

Alternate Settlements 

Better Settlers 

Clean and Simple - Settlement Startup

Colored Workshop Lights 

Conquest - Build New Settlements and Camping

Craftable Turret Stands 

Craftable Vault Cage Elevator

Homemaker - Expanded Settlements 

Place Everywhere

Repaired Sanctuary Bridge 

Sandbag Fortifications

Scrap Everything

Settlement Limits Slashed - Far Harbor Edition

Settlement Objects Expansion Pack 

Simply Modular Housing 

Snap'n Build 2.0 

Vertical (Wall-Mounted) Power Conduits

Window Floor and Roof Boards 

Workshop Framework

Workshop Plus

Workshop Rearranged

Power Armour

Enclave X-02 Power Armor

Power Armor Voiced Operating Systems

Utilities

BodySlide and Outfit Studio

IN-GAME ESP Explorer

Visuals and Graphics

Darker Nights

Enhanced Lights and FX

Extreme Particles Overhaul 3.0 

Eye Normal Map Fix Fallout 4 Edition 

Fallout 4 Enhanced Color Correction

Fr4nsson's Light Tweaks

Gun Smoke (Weapon muzzle smoke and Smoke Trails)

Laser Bolt FX Fallout 4 edition

PipBoyShadows

Water Enhanced - 2K 

Weapons

AK400 - Assault Rifle

Ak5C - A Nordic Relic 

AK74M - Assault Rifle

Beretta M9-FS Pistol

Colt Delta Elite - Standalone

Custom Optics

FACTOR - Modular Rifle 

FN P90

Fusillade Grenade Launcher 

Grenade Expansion Pack

Heckler und Koch - G36 Complex 

Hunting Shotgun

KREBS AK

Kriss Vector 

LegacySlayer And Toadies NIArms HK416

M1911A1 - Standalone Handgun

M3D - Sig Sauer P220

M60 Light Machinegun

McMillan CS5 - A Standalone Sniper Rifle

MG42 and MG34

Miniguns Standalone

Mk14 EBR Redux 

RPG-7V2 

RU556 - Assault rifle

SA80 British Rifle (L85 and L86) 

SCAR-H 

See Through Scopes

Service Rifle

Service Rifle Expansion Project

Wasteland Melody's Service Rifle

Weapon Jiggle Remover

Weaponsmith Extended - Weaponsmith Bundled Assets Pack

XM2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle

Ghillie Mod Redux

Weather

True Storms - Wasteland Edition (Thunder-Rain-Weather Redone) 

[pftones3482]

Found Family

Commission number one for @kriss-the-writing-nerd. Keith angst ahead, wee!! Set in season...jesus, was his kamikaze mission in season 4? Yikes, time has flown. 

Note: Shiro may seem ooc here, and it’s cause I’m writing him as if he isn’t Shiro. Aka, as if he is Kuron. 

Under a cut for length. I really, really enjoyed writing this.

Pidge found Matt pacing Green's hangar when they returned, his rebel uniform rolled up at the sleeves and his fingers gripping his hair. Their heart climbed into their throat and, shoving aside their weariness, they chucked their helmet aside and sprinted to him. "What happened?" Pidge demanded, grabbing him by the forearm. "Matt," they emphasized when he didn't answer instantly. "What. Happened? Who got hurt? Did Mom and Dad contact-?"

"No," he managed. He turned to look at them, eyes blurred with tears, and then he pulled them into a tight hug, firm. Pidge squeezed back, fingers rubbing his back as he practically dragged them off the floor.  

"What the quiznak, Matt?" they whispered. "You're scaring me."  

"I'm sorry," he murmured into their ear. "I just...that was close. And especially after Keith..."

He choked back his words and Pidge felt a coil of anxiety lift in their stomach. Keith was like another brother to them, and Matt's tone...

"What happened?" 

Matt pulled back, rubbing his neck, and his shoulders slumped as he looked away. "He...before Lotor showed up, he was preparing to launch his fighter into the particle barrier around the base."  

When Pidge didn't say anything, Matt took a breath. "With himself in it."  

That elicited a sob from his sibling and Matt whipped his head around to look at them. They had their hands pressed to their mouth, shoulders trembling, and Matt reached out and squeezed their arms, circling his thumbs on the armor there even though he knew they couldn't feel it. "He's okay now," he promised.  

"But he's not," Pidge whimpered, and Matt had never heard them sound so broken, except perhaps on the mission that failed to retrieve their father. "He was going to do it in the first place, which means he..."

Pidge coughed, breaking from Matt and sprinting to the elevator. Matt didn't hesitate to follow.  

~~

When they arrived on the main floor, they found Keith standing in a huddle with Lance and Hunk, laughing at some joke Hunk had told, still in his blade uniform.  

"KEITH QUINZAKING KOGANE," Pidge snapped as they stormed into the room.  

Everyone looked up in surprise, and it was then that Pidge realized that literally everyone was there, from the main Blade members down to the rebel fighters. Allura and Shiro were at the console together, talking with Coran and Kolivan, and they looked surprised at their outburst.  

Keith, meanwhile, had gone pale, his eyes flickering behind them to Matt, who probably looked at least a little guilty. "Pidge," he managed, giving a weak laugh. "What-?"

"Don't you 'what' me, you asshole," Pidge snarled, stomping up to him. Hunk and Lance backed away, eyes wide and hands up as if to escape their gremlin wrath. They studied Keith for a long moment, eyes eventually going watery, and Keith let his stance relax, his eyes softening.  

"Pidge, I-"

Pidge shut him up with a firm hug, tucking their head into his chest and clenching at his back tightly, struggling not to sob. "Don't do that," they whispered. "Please."

Keith wrapped his arms around Pidge's shoulders, threading his fingers through their hair and keeping his eyes off the other paladins. "I had to."  

Pidge broke away and slapped his arm, hard. Without his paladin armor, it actually stung. "Don't give me that bullshit!" they shouted. "You didn't have to, and you know it!"  

"Keith," Lance said cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. His hands were still raised. "What is Pidge talking about?"  

Pidge glared at him for another second, their eyes watering, and then they turned to look at Hunk and Lance. "He was going to fly into the particle barrier Lotor destroyed."  

Lance's eyebrows wrinkled as Hunk's jaw dropped. "Like...kamikaze style?"  

Keith and Pidge both flinched, making the answer clear, and Lance lowered his hands, face slack and eyes wide. "Dude," he breathed, looking at Keith in disbelief.  

Keith pursed his lips and glanced sideways at Shiro, Allura, and Coran. Allura and Coran looked horrified, but Shiro was practically stone cold, like he hadn't heard what Pidge had said. "Look," he managed, clenching his fists. "I had to! I didn't know Lotor was going to show up, I couldn't have! It was a last second ditch effort to save you guys, to save Voltron. You know, defender of the universe and all that? The literal savior of the free universe? Voltron is needed way more than one Blade member, and you all know it."  

"We also know that you're that Blade member," Hunk said softly, his eyes watery. "And that you were also a paladin. And that you are needed just as much as we are, especially by us."  

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. "You can do this without me, though," he tried again. "I'm not needed to form Voltron."  

"Not now, perhaps," Allura broke in. Her eyes glinted in the light. "But if anything were to happen to any of us, you may be needed again."

"And how is that any different than the situation that just happened?" Keith demanded.  

"Because we didn't try to kill ourselves!" Lance snapped.  

Keith whirled, eyes wide at the emotion lacing his voice, only to find Lance in his face, tears curling down his cheeks and a finger jutting into Keith's chest. "You do not get to claim that you aren't important to us and then deny us when we say otherwise, you quiznaking douchebag!"  

He swallowed, a little afraid of the intensity in Lance's eyes, and then found himself wrapped in another hug, this time by the red paladin. He shuddered, letting his hands fall onto Lance's back and trying to fight the sob rising in his throat.  

A warm mass enveloped them from behind Keith and he leaned back into Hunk's chest, shutting his eyes. He was shivering.  

Pidge latched back onto his waist and he let a hand drop from Lance's back to thread in their hair again.

A cool hand cupped his cheek and he pried his eyes open to find Allura standing there, eyes soft and a tear track on her skin. "You are important, to more than just Voltron, Keith," she said, voice low. "You always have been. I know we've had our differences-"

Keith moved his other arm away from Lance and dragged her into the group hug, settling his chin on top of her head. Moments later, Coran joined them, and Keith was thrown back to the moment that he left Voltron for the Blade.  

Except...

He looked around. Shiro was nowhere in the vicinity anymore, and Kolivan and the rest of the rebels, including Matt, had turned aside to give them privacy. His stomach sank at seeing his brother, his friend, the person who had stood by him for ages, gone. Like he was ashamed of him, no longer willing to call him a friend.  

The tears stung and finally fell, and Keith gripped tighter to his family.  

~~

His old room was exactly as he'd left it, dark and cold, his jacket still dangling on the hook where he'd last put it.  

Keith changed slowly, peeling off his uniform and draping it over the closet door before sliding into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. He picked the jacket up in his hands and sank onto the bed with it, fondling the soft fabric between his fingers and tracing over the hems.  

He had almost died today. Of his own volition.  

Keith wasn't stupid. He knew someone was going to find out; Matt had been the only one to know what he was doing, but it was enough. Hell, Keith himself might have accidentally let it slip in one of his less coherent moments.

But he hadn't expected Pidge to literally fling themself at him. Certainly hadn't expected the second hug to come from Lance, the familial love toned deep in Allura's voice.  

Most of all, though, he hadn't expected Shiro to just up and leave. That was what perhaps hurt the most in this whole situation: that Shiro had seen his state of being, had seen the way he needed to be held, and had left.  

As if his brain had conjured it, a knock sounded on his door, hesitant and heavy, metal. That was how Keith knew something was up. Shiro never knocked with his prosthetic if he could help it. He hated the thing with a burning passion. Pidge had been trying to alter it before Keith left, to make it less Galra-like, but Keith wasn't sure if they had continued once the war efforts picked up.  

"Keith? Can I come in?"  

Keith sighed and lowered his arms to rest on his knees, jacket dangling to the floor. "Yeah," he said quietly, almost hoping that Shiro didn't hear him and would leave.  

No luck, as the door swooshed open and Shiro stepped in, eyes downcast and hand rubbing his jaw. He had changed back into regular clothing and looked exhausted. They all were, but Shiro especially looked dead on his feet.  

The door closed behind him and for a moment they both just occupied the same space in silence, Keith staring at Shiro and Shiro staring at the floor. Keith took the moment to formulate what he wanted to say in his head, about how hurt he felt, how much he wanted Shiro to be there for him, how it would have meant something if he had spoken up earlier.  

All that came out was, "Why?"

Shiro looked up, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.  

He dropped his hand and shoved both into his pockets, scuffing a toe on the ground. "I didn't know how to react, Keith," he whispered. "A person I consider my little brother tells me that...that what? That he almost killed himself, because he thinks we don't need him? Is that what you think letting you go to the Blade meant?"  

Keith stiffened and looked off to the side, letting his hair fall in his face to shield him from the intense stare Shiro was giving him.  

"That is what you thought, isn't it?" Shiro said, his voice surprised. "You thought that because we told you to go, to follow the path you laid out for yourself, that we were saying we didn't want you? Keith, that's...that's ridiculous."

"You guys didn't really try to stop me," he reminded Shiro with a huff.  

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Shiro's foot slammed into the floor. "Dammit, Keith! You're here and not helping with Voltron and the recruiting, and then we tell you it's okay to leave and you think that we're the ones pushing you away?"  

Keith turned to look at Shiro, his jaw hanging a little at the anger in his voice. The man was standing, fists clenched and eyes flashing. "That's bullshit, Keith, and you know it as well as we do."  

"Shiro, I-"

"Just..." Shiro took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes and letting his shoulders slump. "There's people here that care about you, Keith. If you're not happy with the Blade, come back here. I can't guarantee a spot in Voltron, but you're intelligent and know how to fight. We can use you. But if you stay with the Blade..."

He shook his head and dropped his arms, turning back to the door. "If you stay with the Blade, then you need to take care of yourself. Whatever that means for you. We can't lose a valuable team member, someone that people care about. Not again. There have been too many lost to this cause. We don't need to lose you too."

"I understand," Keith said, voice tight as he watched the door open again.  

Shiro tossed a weak smile over his shoulder. It looked forced. "Get some sleep, okay? We have a long war ahead of us."

The door slung shut, leaving Keith to laugh bitterly in an empty room. "When don't we?"  

~~

Three am found Keith in the training room, beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag and sweating harder than he had since leaving the desert heat. His gloves were tight on his fingers, a firm grip that didn't falter as he slammed punch after punch into the sack in front of him, every previous frustration building up and releasing.  

"Keith?"  

He swung one last time, hard enough to send the bag spinning, and then turned to Coran, chest heaving. The man was watching him in concern, and Keith realized with a start that he wasn't wearing a uniform. Rather, he was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt, a pair of what resembled house slippers on his feet. "Did I wake you up?" he found himself asking, realizing as soon as he said it how stupid a question it was.  

Coran smiled and humored him. "Not at all. I make rounds every four hours while everyone sleeps. Usually I leave anyone training be – don't want them to lose their focus – but you were just exercising and you seemed...rather agitated. Is everything all right?"

Keith sighed and pulled his gloves off, tossing them on the floor and sinking down the wall, rubbing the tension from his knuckles. "Is that even a question?" he joked weakly.  

Coran sat next to him, close enough that their shoulders were brushing but nothing else, and rested his forearms on his knees in an almost meditative pose. "I phrased it as one, yes."  

That got a chuckle out of Keith and he shook his head. "Coran...are you upset with me? For doing what I did today? Er, yesterday, I guess?"

Coran tilted his head, lifting a hand to tug at his mustache. "How could I be?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with genuine curiosity. "You were doing what you thought best in the moment, even if the decision was based in emotion rather than logic."  

"I was being-"

He caught Coran's look and slumped, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I didn't want them to die," he croaked, cursing internally as his throat started to ache once more. "I didn't know what else to do, I just...I didn't want them to die. I..."

"You care for them," Coran said softly.  

"I love them."  

Keith let that settle for a moment before dragging a fist to his mouth and letting out a sob. "I love them so much," he whimpered, not protesting as he felt Coran scoot closer. "I couldn't lose any more of my family, I had to-"

A hiccup cut him off and he let Coran wrap an arm around him, going so far as to thump his head down on the man's shoulder. "I understand. I was in the same position, only I was much more helpless."

Keith nodded, swiping angrily at his tears. Coran continued, his voice low and his hand stroking Keith's bicep and shoulder. "I had to watch as the princess I consider a daughter nearly died, as four other aliens I have come to consider my children nearly died."

He paused, and Keith could practically feel his mustache twitch. "And then I had to find out that the only son I would have had left if they had died almost killed himself."

Keith's breath hitched and he pressed further into Coran's grasp, reaching out a hand and wrapping it around Coran's fingers. They were cold, trembling a bit, and Keith squeezed them firmly.  

"You didn't want to lose your family, son," Coran murmured. "I understand that, believe me I do. But have you stopped to consider that you are also someone's family to lose?"  

"I have today," Keith admitted, voice breaking. "Thanks, Coran."  

Coran hummed and squeezed Keith's hand back, his fingers still rubbing circles into Keith's skin. "Of course, son. Would you like me to walk you back to your room?"

"Can we just...can we just sit here for a bit?"

"Absolutely."  

[bandstolookup]

kenshi yonezu

the oral cigarettes

LiSA

YUI

nightmare

ikimonogakari

UVERworld

ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION

hello sleepwalkers

mrs. GREEN APPLE

BLUE ENCOUNT

linked horizon

lenny code fiction

BRADIO

pornograffitti

ORANGE RANGE

the gazettE

shoko nakagawa

FLOW

mika nakashima

amamiya sora

seika oomori

須田景凪

KANA-BOON

ryokuoushoku shakai

hiroaki tommy tominaga

CHEMISTRY

tragicômico

sukima switch

MAN WITH A MISSION

SPYAIR

flumpool

l'arc-en-ciel

SCANDAL

GARNiDELiA

cinema staff

KISIDA KYODAN & THE AKEBOSI ROCK...

tommy heavenly🐑

y. chang

nik kershaw

L-train

dan avidan

super guitar bros

jacob collier

cake

dave grohl

jamie n commons

cinema for the blind

the animals

dire straits

colony house

the mars volta

probii

fifth phoenix

thedooo

the weepies

JAWNY

deb talan

steve tannen

ian magee

reflekt

onumi

atlas personality

harbrook

boardateers

the velvet futon club

frankie lee

vennum

retrakx

nylon

blue street

astro james

jukebox the ghost

the orange sunshine band

griffin holtby

coldrain

ryo

crystal lake

plini

真山りか

myles kennedy and the conspirators

gray falls

altars

ambassadors of shalom

and then there were none

ark of the covenant

artifex pereo

as hell retreats

as they sleep

the ascendicate

at the throne of judgment

attalus

august burns red

becoming the archetype

becoming saints

before their eyes

behold the kingdom

being as an ocean

beloved

benea reach

the convalescence

besieged

betraying the martyrs

the blamed

blenderhead

blessed by a broken heart

bloodshed

bloodline severed

bloodlined calligraphy

the blue letter

born blind

brandtson

intervals

the oral cigarettes

polyphia

a bullet for pretty boy

burden of a day

burn it down

darkness divided

day of vengeance

dead poetic

dear ephesus

toska

debtor

demon hunter

dependency

destroy the runner

disciple

divide the sea

dizmas

dogwood

doomsday hymn

dynasty

earth groans

east west

edison glass

embodiment 12:14

embodyment

emery

enlow

eso-charis

everdown

every day life

every knee shall bow

everything in slow motion

extol

falling cycle

fallstar

the famine

fasedown

few left standing

fight the fury

figure four

final surrender

fit for a king

flee the seen

focal point

focused

for all eternity

for the fallen dreams

for today

foreknown

forever changed

foreveratlast

forevermore

further seems forever

the gentleman homicide

gideon

glass casket

grace like winter

the great commission

gwen stacy

hands

the handshake murders

headnoise

hearts like lions

here i come falling

a hill to die upon

the hoax

hope for the dying

hopesfall

hotel books

hundredth

i am alpha and omega

i am empire

i am terrified

i, the breather

impending doom

in the midst of lions

inhale exhale

inked in blood

ironwill

islander

ivoryline

jamie's elsewhere

jawbone

jesus wept

judgement x day

the juliana theory

justifide

kids in the way

kingston falls

lament

love lola love

leaders

left out

letters to the exiles

life in your way

living sacrifice

lucerin blue

tristian workman

lust control

luti-kriss

manafest

maranatha

maylene and the sons of disaster

means

memphis may fire

metanoia

mindrage

misery chastain

mortal treason

mortification

my heart to fear

mychildren mybride

nailed promise

new waters

ninety pound wuss

no innocent victim

nobody special

nodes of ranvier

norma jean

nothing til blood

officer negative

oh, sleeper

the old-timers

once nothing

one bad pig

the ongoing concept

onward to olympas

the out circuit

overcome

the overseer

forfeit thee untrue

P.O.D.

a past unknown

phinehas

pillar

platoon 1107

a plea for purging

point of recognition

poured out

project 86

R.A.I.D.

raid

rapture

the red baron

remembrance

remove the veil

rival choir

rod laver

saints never surrender

saving grace

scarlet

scaterd few

see the rise

seemless

selfmindead

sent by ravens

serianna

seventh star

sever your ties

silent planet

sinai beach

since remembered

six feet deep

sleeping by the riverside

sleeping giant

society's finest

solus deus

sovereign strength

spirit and the bride

spitfire

spoken

stand your ground

staple

stars are falling

stavesacre

joy downer

still breathing

still remains

strengthen what remains

stretch arm strong

strongarm

symphony in peril

take it back!

tantrum of the muse

ten 33

terminal

texas in july

the lesser known saints

these hearts

thin ice

this beautiful republic

this is hell

this or the apocalypse

those who fear

thousand foot krutch

demise of eros

a thousand times repent

through solace

times of grace

to speak of wolves

training for utopia

trenches

twelve gauge valentine

unashamed

undercover

war of ages

warlord

we the gathered

the wedding

what we do in secret

with blood comes cleansing

with increase

wolves at the gate

wovenwar

wrench in the works

[eighthram]

pokemon & frozen AU

K I N D R E D

PROLOGUE . ragnarok

No one ever knew where the sanctuary was situated ; the beast was known to live above the cloud, in between earth and space, closer to the stars than the oceans. Where could it be if not in this same space pocket ? An island maybe, a floating island, elevated here by ancien rite, known by no one nor any book.

But it wasn’t.

She would have prided herself in finding this special place. Found not between the clouds, but under the earth itself. Yeah, she would have been so proud, supporting a victorious smirk after those years of defeat, misery and humiliation. She would have, had the circonstances been different.

Jessie was alone, standing face to face with what could have been her life goal, back ramrod straight and tears falling in rivulets along her cheeks. Her hair was a mess of sweat, blood and dirt, long strands falling in her eyes.

In front of the former villain, a tree, a big, fluorescent one. The like of those you would think you can only see in books, in tales but here it was, standing proud and waiting. She lifted her head to try and see the top branches of it, but her neck cracked and her nerves sent a warning. She grimaced and settled for looking right in front of her.

Beyond a small river seemingly coming from below, and in a small alcove in between the great tree roots, resided what she had been looking for all these years ; a girl sleeping peacefully in a capsule. An ancient one, carved in stone, where coursed some ominous looking runes.

She took a step. The echo that followed made her stop. It could have been this single step that resonated around the cave but Jessie had this feeling that maybe it wasn’t, surely even. It was a warning she recognized as such but after all, the time where she heard those was long gone. The only ones that could have made her see reason were gone too, just behind the circular door closed behind her back.

She took another step, and another, the sound resonating again and again, deforming, switching to something even more dangerous. The growl of a beast hiding above the clouds. And what a beast it must be for its warning to reach the depth of earth itself.

The wooden sticks cracked under her feets and soon, water followed, going above her knees and settling around her waist. The stream made her stumble and she recognised only now the weakness in her legs, the heaviness of her steps, the bugs crawling along her arms and shoulders, and the buzz in her ears. She was tired, dead tired. Exhausted, drained and this cave, in a last attempt to protect its treasure, seemed to drain even more of what little she had left in her core.

She carried on, until the tips of her fingers grazed the polished surface of the capsule. She could better see the features of this girl ; she was young, despite her thousands and thousands of years. Her age could only be numbered in millenia. She had light green hair, without a doubt altered by the color of her soulbind and a slightly tanned skin. On her forehead, a single, little, yellow circle painted like an eye staring straight into her soul.

She shivered. She coughed, bent on her knees, retrieved the kriss tied to her ankle. Jessie hesitated and, still bent, shot a look at the door where bloody handprints could be seen. Her raw hands were the sole testimony of the agony she suffered only moments ago. She was empty now, with her last order the only thing echoing strongly enough in her head.

Before she could change her mind, she inhaled a deep breath and shot forward, kriss branded high in the sky, its blade shining in the tree’s fluorescence and cut through the air right to her last victim’s beating heart.

Above the cloud, in between earth and space, a cry sounded, shattering invisible walls.

Below ocean and earth, two growls answered.

Ragnarok.

[csproolz]

Gold Coast:- Tues 02.07.19 - Fri 19.07.19

Wow I really should’ve written this sooner 😳 basically we got to the Gold Coast on the Tuesday and sat on the beach for a bit, found the flat and that’s when the goon madness started, so the details are a little fuzzy 🤭

The flat was really nice, had everything we needed including a full kitchen and a washing machine: we’d never used a top loading machine before so that took two tries and ate two of my bras 😵 That Weds we met up with my friend Fionn from Riego and her boyfriend Ste (obviously in an Irish bar), played some pool and managed to come second in a pub quiz at Steampunk, then went to a place where I had (shockingly) my first ever margarita. Thursday was my birthday, I had a really nice long phone call with Kriss back home, then cooked an indoor bbq for the four of us cos the weather was a bit rubbish, before going out and getting very drunk, playing pokies and presumably being carried home by Matt cos the end of the night is a bit of a blur - just as all birthdays should go. The next day we lazed about recovering and relishing our last day without loads of other backpackers.

The next day we got to the Down Under by the Beach hostel we’d end up staying at for nearly two weeks. I really liked this place: it was literally 30 seconds from the beach, and had a bottle shop and convenience store over the road, plus ten mins walk from everything in town :) Everyone was so nice, they had stuff going on every day that they’d go around asking everyone to join in with, and one of the guys working there even lent me his own laptop to do my CV when I asked reception about finding a computer. I applied for a RA job in Brisbane (that I still haven’t heard back from), received our TFNs (thanks Holly), and that’s as far as productivity really went in Surfer’s 😂

Mon 8th we went for dinner with Matt’s second cousin Terry and his wife Cathy at a surfers club on Main Beach, who were absolutely lovely and invited us to stay at their house in the hinterland that weekend. Terry came and picked us up that Saturday afternoon and took us to their huge beautiful house in Witheren, were we had an amazing evening with homemade pizza, beers and s’mores by the bonfire. I’ve never liked marshmallows, but have decided Americans have found an excellent way to turn fluffy plastic sugar into a food of the gods. Unfortunately there was a full moon that night so we couldn’t see the Milky Way, but I still managed to geek out a bit over all the stars you could see.

The next day, we had a bit of a lie in (probably because it was the first proper bed we’d been treated to in a while), saw a few wallabies hopping about their ~garden (if you can call 4 acres of bush a garden), and went off to O’Reilly’s Canungra Valley Vineyards. Cathy took me in her MX-5 so that was already my day made, then they treated us to an amazing picnic spread complete with bottle of pink bubbles down down by the creek. If anyone ever gets the chance to go there then I’d definitely encourage it, the whole place is absolutely beautiful, and there are even turtles in the brook sometimes! Alas we couldn’t see any when we were here, but I did see my first eel, so that’s something; and afterwards Terry dropped us back in Surfer’s. They really are both the nicest people, and allowed us to go out and see some proper countryside, so I’m really hoping we can meet up again once they’ve moved and settled into their new flat in Gold Coast in a few months :)

During that week, on Weds 10th we also finally managed to go whale watching, something we’d tried to book for my birthday but couldn’t due to strong swells. We hurried (hungover) to get the marina in time, and hopped on this fancy-ass yacht to take us out to sea. To get there you have to go through the broadwater, and before that I didn’t really understand just how much water and coastline there is in Gold Coast. Basically, the city is full of waterways and islands and little beaches - including Budd’s Beach, which we never got to visit but will have to go next time we’re there for obvious reasons. Anyway, so we went out on this awesome cruise, and a surprisingly short distance from shore (about 3 miles?) we saw the first signs of humpback whales with the clouds of vapour coming from their blowholes. There are rules about how close the boats are allowed to get, so we didn’t get to see as much as I’d have liked, but we did see a few pods together doing their fin slaps on the surface, and once one even swam right under the back of the boat, so you could see the mottled skin and blowhole just underneath the water. I’ve always wanted to see whales so that was pretty cool, and that with the sea air and the sun cleared up the hangover nicely 😊

The rest of our time in Surfer’s was pretty relaxed, we went down to the beach a fair few times, saw some beautiful skies and went in the sea a few times. Those waves look really pretty crashing on the beach but I promise are a bit more powerful when you’re in them! I’m not a strong swimmer (and had contacts in with no goggles on) so didn’t go out quite as far or as often as Matt, but it was kinda amazing to be stood waist deep in water, have a wave crash over your head, then have the water go out so far you’re stood on dry(ish) sand again 😳 At one point Matt made me the bacon and potato flowers I’d tagged him in hinting at a birthday present, to interesting but surprisingly tasty results; and one day we played three rounds at King Tutt’s Putt Putt, one of which I actually managed to win for once! We also met a couple of people at the hostel (mostly called Matt) and started to be more social. One night we were out with a few people by the pool and Matt ended up going for an unwanted swim that he wasn’t stoked about, so obviously afterwards he pushed me in too and took himself back in at the same time for revenge. In my defence, I did make sure he didn’t have anything important in his pockets first 🤷🏼‍♀️

I was quite sad to leave the hostel, but we figured our little few-day trip to Gold Coast stretching to 2.5 weeks was probably enough, so I placed my first Dylan sticker in view of the sea and we headed back to the city. It wasn’t until we’d literally just arrived at our new hostel in Brisbane that I realised I’d lost my passport, because one night we’d been out with Fionn and Ste I’d been ~sensible enough to put it in her bag, and forgot all about it when I left 🙄 crisis adverted, and the beaut that she is, Fionn’s stuck it in the post so I’ll have that back soon 👍🏼 It was really awesome to hang out with her again on the other side of the world, and to meet Ste who’s super lovely, so I’m hoping to get to see them again before they head off again in a few months!

We’ve been back in Bris just over a week now, but it’s already taken me over an hour to write this and it makes sense to keep things together by place, so I’ll post more again soon!

[quilloftheclouds]

She did this, you know. But not on her own.

The consequences of the runaway’s regrets are finally falling into place. 

Deadzone - 939 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

From Chapter Fourteen: Capsized

(CW for described pain. Not any blood or anything, just... plenty of pain.)

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

A tug at my cloak drew me further towards consciousness. I pushed the offender to the side, not yet finished in my rest. Without enough time reserved for proper circulation of the magic throughout my form, my spells would not function correctly, including the one sustaining my animation.

The distraction returned, this time more determined. I again ignored it, drawing my crossed legs tighter together.

Sharp pricks on my palm jolted me awake.

Wysote whined beside me, guilt in his eyes in response to my glare as I rubbed the hand sore from his teeth.

“I-I’m sorry I just---” He bounded towards the cabin’s door and returned, lifting his paws to pace in place, ears swiveled back, wide eyes flickering around, agitated, nervous. He could not stop moving. “There’s---Dio there’s people coming I could see their lights and I don’t think they’re friendly and I didn’t want to yell or bark I guess because that would let them know I saw them and I didn’t think that was---I didn’t know what to do you weren’t waking up and---” I set a gentle hand on his head to attempt to calm him, the action only partially succeeding.

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

I replicated this question in gestures for Wysote to see, using a sign for fire and a bird instead of spelling out her name.

“Wh---But… but when I tried to stop them Phoenix told me you said she and Allison could head off in the night and we would join up with them when they finally infiltrated the fort I---” Of course they had left. Of course. I prayed the Goddesses would let the two imbeciles live long enough through their rash judgement to still help with retrieving the spell tome.

The Hydrangea shuddered, my hand flying out to catch my balance on the cabin’s table. A glance through the window revealed the silhouette of the land, the glowing outlines of individual wharves and ridges closer than they had been before, growing gradually larger. The Hydrangea was being blown into shore, the gusts brewed by the storm too strong for the anchors to defy. Far too strong for me to direct away, even through charging one of my charms. Another tremor jolted through the wood, through my frame, the chains tethering the ship straining with disjointed, grating, booming echoes as they finally caught stable ground.

I released my white-knuckled grip on the table’s edge, stepping back with a deep breath, an attempt to calm my flurried nerves. 

A normal storm should not be powerful enough to dislodge an anchor, not on rough shoals. What had caused the tempest to accumulate such strength, as if it had been focused?

I shook my head. Wysote was rambling without direction; he required guidance to leaven the concern in him. The ceaseless fidgeting, the worrying energy to his words and movements. None of it aided my own anxiety.

“When?” My tone was harsher than I intended. The inquiry paused him momentarily.

“It was I think it was---it was a few hours ago? Phoenix told me not to wake you up I-I-I didn’t think that she would---Why, why are there people coming down to the ship why i-” My eyes widened. Wysote had not stopped, his gaze flicking erratically between the door and my face, his ears pinned back to his head. But his words had.

The high-pitched whining of a dog filled the cabin instead, the rapid shift disconcerting. Frightening.

Why was my translation spell no longer working? He was right here, it should not have---

Everything lost sound for one second. Wysote’s panic, the howling wind, the beating waves, the creaking timbers of the ship. Muffled. Gone.

A beam of light pierced my eyes from the porthole. But the Hydrangea was anchored just outside of the lighthouse’s range, had we truly moved that far into th---

My ears burst with a blast of ringing, the pervasive din drilling agonizing thorns into my head. My hands slammed tight over my ears. A futile attempt---it came from inside.

Wysote watched in horror when I fell to my knees, my body curling forward as the pain twisted down my spine in waves, radiating out through my veins like barbed vines, blocking and constricting each individual blood vessel, each time-frozen cell. Tears blurred my vision, my mouth wrenched open in a soundless scream.

The affliction subsided to leave me shaking against the cabin’s floor, spasms raking through my frame, my forehead pressed to the cold wood. Even as they quelled, I was unable to respond to Wysote’s fearful barking, or the shouts and gunshots from above deck.

The door screeched on its hinges, slamming into the inside wall, a gust of storm-choked air sweeping through the cabin.

Wysote fell silent.

“Lovely to see you again, princess.” Her words dripped with malice despite the sweet honey-dipped tone she said them with. I tiredly forced myself to lift my eyes. Acharya stepped down on one knee, her fingers soft as they hooked underneath my jaw.

She inclined her head, her lips parting in a venomous smile. “You’re not getting away from me. Not this time.”

I... I don’t think I like Rose anymore...

Something magic’s going on. Or rather... not-magic. “Deadzone” is such a fascinating word, isn’t it?

OSS Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @half-explored @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez​ @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites​ @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @bloomseey-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dcdarrells​ @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @scribe-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost----souls @penumbrics @dove-actually @kriss-the-writing-nerd @vhum @writinginslowmotion @wrenegade-writes @livingthelovelylife @wildswrites @kowlazovdi @weathershade @thewritinggodmother @ettawritesnstudies @belles-library @emdrabbles @iced-ginger-tea @griffinwriting @hermiones-writeblrr @milkyway-writes @writeblrbraindump @thewritinggodmother @dowings @evelyn-paine @eluari

[baroquespiral]

Boy and the Beast got me feeling like

i.

The Boy and The Beast was the epitome of harmonious narrative wholeness, and a paean to an archaic, conservative model of developmental psychology which proposes the same as the basis and telos of the human condition.  You’d think this would make it apolitical or quietist in the way Westerners like to associate with Japan - peaceful integration of the personality through and into extant society as sufficient for social, material and spiritual well-being.  But it actually opposes its developmental holism to extant society - literally when Kaede complains about her parents’ inability to respect her wishes and independence, metaphorically in thematizing humans as ontologically hollow, only exceptionally capable of interacting with the social and spiritual unity of fantastic Jutengai without catastrophic consequences.  I often find that Japan writes social contradiction as a (temporary) break in a fundamental and ideal unity, the West as a reality underlying illusory unity.  Compare the prevalence of genuine nature-pathos in the most resoundingly negative (and astonishingly rarely nostalgic or conservative) Japanese pop art to Sam Kriss’ warning in The Baffler that “Whenever you hear a rapturous defense of the natural world, you should be on your guard: this is class power talking, and it’s trying to kill you.”  I’m a negative dialectician (and probably a pluralist on the most crudely ontological level) so I should prefer the latter mode, but it almost feels more like it’s the latter cultural imaginary that requires it, not the other way around, and when I encounter the former it’s certainly a relief from Tumblr dysfunction-worship and the absurd leftist affect wars.  It probably has something to do with why shonen manga, for instance, can get away with making its heroes proactive in ways Western series can’t - and while this has both a good (changing society is not a taboo relegated to supervillains) and a bad (the ways in which it can be changed are imagined more conservatively (see @thug‘s takes on Naruto, not that I agree with all of them)), it’s seriously possible that without such powerful images of potentiality from sources like Bleach (Soul Society arc) and One Piece (Water Seven arc), I would be another litfic pessimist and not a revolutionary.  Which suggests another reason why the political fringes are all so into anime, a form in which revolution not only can but must be represented with the roundness of a story - and a story cannot achieve ideal, harmonious wholeness without suggesting social change.  In a society modernized and Westernized as recently and tumultuously as Japan, it was simply never possible to “[declare the irrational social order] isomorphic with reality itself”.   ii. I know hierarchism and individualism are deep-rooted here but how the fuck did we manage to make auteur theory in film a thing?  The reason I so often find myself looking to film as an index of some kind of cultural health or vitality, a medium I don’t otherwise know or give a shit much about, is probably that a pure genius outlier is gonna have a hard as hell time making a good film.  Even the ones who think of themselves, and act as such are just Tommy Wiseau unless they can find cinematographers, actors, composers etc. capable of interpreting or - I suspect this is far more often the case - co-creating their vision.  And even if the tyrannical director imposing a vision on passive employees is possible it’s not gonna produce one of those rare environments where good movies can be produced regularly (even by an individual director).  I don’t think Mamoru Hosoda is a genius.  I think The Boy and the Beast was genius, in a way that it only could have been as a movie, and only could have been as a product of a “culture” (in a modern sense, defined by looking backwards and forwards for the Culture - or Nature - of Jutengai).

[maxericaotp]

The One Alternate Ending

Hello, this is a one shot of how I think that 'The One' should have ended. I don't hate how the One ended but this was just an idea I had floating around in my head and thought I'd share it. It starts just after America has returned from the funeral and she has left the party. BTW this is on my fanfiction page under chescaannie. Enjoy!

I collapsed onto my bed. I couldn't believe that there was a party going on downstairs, I'd never felt less like partying in my life. I dreaded what was coming. I had to tell Maxon about Aspen and I before he officially chose, and I had to face the consequences of my actions, even if it meant I'd lose the man I love more than anything else in this world. I thought about not telling him, but he'd surely find out eventually if he chose me and we'd be starting our life together in a lie. I had to tell him the next time I saw him. First thing in the morning I'd go find him and tell him everything. Right now I wanted to sleep, or at least try to.

I sat and rubbed my eyes slightly, I'd been crying a little apparently and I probably looked a mess, but in that moment I didn't care. I no longer had a father, and I was probably going to lose someone else before the year was over. How could he ever forgive me, after everything else I'd forced him to forgive me for. I'd gone against a tradition, tried to remove the castes, gotten too angry and upset, I'd hurt him in every way possible, except this one and that was only because he didn't know.

"I'm sorry." I was startled by the voice so I turned to see honey-blonde hair and chocolate-brown eyes watching me. How long had he been there? Only one thought entered my mind when he apologized to me.

"Are you kicking me out?" Maybe my moral dilemma didn't matter. If I was leaving, then Maxon would never have to find out, not that I wanted to leave!

"No." He shook his head and walked over to me slowly.

"Not yet anyway." I mumbled. I decided I was going to tell him right now so that he could change his mind before it was too late.

"What?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Maxon. I'm going to tell you something. I'm probably going to cry and you're probably going to get angry. But just remember that you can send me home if you want to. All I want from you is for you to listen to me and not stop me, even when you do get angry. Do you promise?" He nodded and sat next to me on perched on the edge of the bed. I breathed slowly, trying to calm myself but I was anything but. It's better out in the open. I told myself, exhaled again.

"You remember me telling you about my ex from Carolina…" I started.

"You saw him when you were there, didn't you?" Maxon interrupted.

"Yes and no, but please. Let me finish." I pleaded with him and he nodded. "Thank you. I did see him, but that was mostly because I went with him. You see, the guard I knew from Carolina, that was him. I didn't tell you because I knew that you weren't exactly his biggest fan, and I didn't want him to get hurt. His family needs him, and I still loved him. We spoke a few times and we sometimes more than spoke. When I was angry, or upset, or confused, he'd console me sometimes. It went on until I tried to remove the castes. When I thought I was going home, he asked if he could write me and I said 'no'. I told him that I needed time to get over you. I realised, just then, that I really did love you. I realised that I could never really stop loving you, no matter what happened. Since then, there's been nothing between us. I never told you then because I was worried about what you would say, what you would do. Anyway, it seemed unimportant after it finished. I'm telling you now so that you can make a decision with no regrets, I'd rather you hated me now than later." I finished and we sat in silence for a few moments before Maxon finally spoke.

"I have to go and do some things." And then walked out the room.

I collapsed back onto the bed. If I'd known at the start of this how deep my feelings for Maxon would go then I would have never even considered getting back together with Aspen. I hated that decision more than any of my later ones, we could get through me telling the country that I wanted to change how it was governed, could we get over the fact that I'd betrayed Maxon's trust another time than he thought?

"Mer, are you ok?" The door opened and Aspen came in.

"Go away Aspen. I can't deal with this at the moment, we'll talk in four years, when we're both back in Carolina."

"No. We have to talk." I looked up and he moved further in. I sat up and he came over to my bed and sat next to me. I moved over to the piano stool, I didn't want to be near to him, he could say his piece and then leave.

"What?" I demanded.

"I'm in love with someone and you need to know who that is."

"Aspen…"

"Mer. It's not you. I mean, I do love you but…not like I used to. When you made your choice. When you chose him, it hurt me. But it wasn't because I was losing you, it was because I realised I'd already lost you. I lost you when I broke up with you in the treehouse. Everything that happened between us wasn't real, and I think you know that. Since I stopped looking for you, I found someone else. Someone who needs me. And she wants your permission before she'll let us continue."

"Why? Do I know her? Have you told her about us?"

"Actually, she found out at the same time as your mother. It's-"

"Lucy." I finished for him. "Of course you have my permission, I want you both to be happy." I finally managed to look him in the eye but looked away again, quickly. "I told Maxon." I whispered.

"What did he say?" He sounded scared as well, I had almost forgotten that Maxon was technically the son of his employer, not someone you want on your bad side.

"He left." I shrugged. "He said he had to sort some things out and he left. End of story. I'll sit next to him tomorrow and have to watch as he chooses Kriss to be his wife. Then I'll go home to Carolina and have to cope by myself. And I'll have lost the three men I care most about in less than a week. How's that for a merry Christmas?"

"He'll come back, Mer. He'd be insane not to. And, just in case, I might get back to my post. I'm here until ten if you need me." He let himself out and then there was silence once more.

After a few minutes I decided I'd take a bath. I grabbed my robe and nightgown and headed through to the bathroom. My maids weren't here but my few months of luxury hadn't made me forget how to run my own bath. I stepped into the steaming water and submerged myself fully. I felt like it was the first time I'd been alone enough to realise how much I'd lost and I burst into tears.

Eventually I managed to pry myself from the tub and into my nightgown. I looked in the mirror at my red, blotchy face. I was not pretty right now, not even close. I didn't care. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and wake up before any of this happened. Not the selection, or meeting Maxon, just…none of this stuff that had ruined it all.

It was late and I was tired so I curled up on my bed, but I couldn't sleep. Instead I just cried. My life was a mess and it was all my fault. I looked up once, when my door opened and a guard looked in on me.

"Are you ok, miss?" He asked, worriedly. I forced a smile and nodded at him, praying he'd just assume I was upset about my father or something and not pry. He simply gave me a sympathetic smile and left again. I heard footsteps moving away from the door, he didn't want to have to hear me cry any more, heck I didn't want to hear it any more. I decided to stare up at the ceiling and think about something good. But everything came back to something I no longer had.

My happiest memories in the past few months were mainly Maxon, whom I no longer had…probably. Our walks in the gardens, our time on the roof, our meeting, secret signals, the whole thing passed in a blur and just reminded me that it was over. I could feel silent tears falling down my cheeks so decided to think of something else.

I thought of my family of May's bright smile when she visited a few months ago, her outfit when she dressed as a bride. But that brought me back to Hallowe'en and Maxon telling me that he was going to marry me. I moved on, there had to be something happy inside me. I had a niece. That didn't remind me of Maxon. But I missed her birth, I was just as out of the loop on that one as Kota. Is that who I was going to be when I got home? I would be a three, I wouldn't be singing at parties, I'd be teaching or something. I couldn't live with my family anymore; would I just be a stranger to them? Would I even get to be a three? What if Aspen and I were punished like Marlee and Carter and we both ended up as eights, I definitely couldn't return to my family disgraced! Ok, new thoughts. Something happy…

"Are you ok, my dear?" A familiar voice asked. I shook my head.

"I don't think I'll ever be ok again; I've lost too much." He mattress dipped as Maxon sat down beside me. I don't know how he found room, but he had managed to sit next to my foot. He placed a hand on it, making me smile slightly.

"You still have me." He whispered.

I sat up so quickly the room span for a moment, "What?" I asked, sure I'd misheard him.

"I'm still here America. And I will be for as long as you'll have me." He looked deep into my eyes.

"Are you serious?" I asked, I tried to stop the smile coming through on my face, but I was fairly sure I'd failed at least a little bit.

"I love you."

"I think I love you more." I said as I leaned over and kissed his lips softly.

As I pulled away his hands found the back of my head and he pulled me back in for a more passionate kiss. I pulled away after a few moments I had to clear everything for myself.

"So, by this time tomorrow, we'll be engaged?" I queried.

"America, let me ask you one thing, that you must swear to answer truthfully and if I ever find out that you lied then…I don't know what I'll do." I nodded as my heart jumped into my throat. "Right now, are you mine, or are you this guard's" It took everything inside me not to laugh, was so relieved. This was a question I could answer correctly and truthfully.

"Maxon, I am yours. You hold my whole heart-" I had more to say but I was rudely interrupted by Maxon taking control of my lips by forcing his into them.

Before I knew it I was pinned on top of my pillow and was pulling Maxon down on top of me. I wanted him more and more with each breath we took. Sadly, he stopped and flopped down to lie next to me on the bed.

"What's wrong." I whispered.

"I have to go back to my room now." He moaned.

"Why? Stay here with me." I said, wrapping my arms around him.

"Can you just imagine the scandal of us sharing a bed?" He stroked my hair gently as I placed my head on his chest.

"You're the prince and I'm going to be your wife. What's one extra night together?" I begged and he sighed.

"How can I say no to you, my love. But I'll have to leave early to get ready. Can we compromise on that?"

"Just as long I can wake beside you, so that I can be sure that this wasn't all a dream." He chuckled and pulled the blankets over the top of the two of us with one arm and keeping the other around my shoulder. I fell asleep to the sound of Maxon's heart, the feel of his breath on my neck, and the warmth of his arms around me.

The bed was cold when I woke to Mary pulling open the curtains.

"Wake up Miss. Today's the big day." Anne whispered, shaking me slightly. I sat up and looked around frantically but saw no sign of Maxon. Was it all just a dream?

My mind wandered as my maids bathed me and did my hair. Was Maxon really here last night? He said he'd be here this morning. He promised he'd wake up with me. Before I knew it, I was dressed in a white dress with a red sash around my waist that went straight down to me ankles where there were white kitten-heeled shoes poking out from under the fabric. My hair was pulled into a chignon bun at the nape of my neck and was tied with a red ribbon that matched my sash.

After they were finished, my maids bowed and left the room, telling me that someone would be along to escort me soon. I decided I needed some air and, so, stepped out onto my balcony and looked over the gardens. That's when I spotted him. Blonde hair and brown hair very close together walking through the gardens. I could see a few guards around them but I was still angry. The gardens were our place and there she was…yep they were moving towards our bench and then they sat on it. Honestly, I could have cried. Last night must have been a dream, either that or he was lying.

There was a knock on the door and I turned to see a guard waiting for me in the doorway. I walked towards him and took the arm he had extended to me. He didn't speak for the entire journey, though I probably didn't look very talkative as the image of the two of them together flashed constantly in my head. I couldn't believe it, he was going to choose her, wasn't he? Not that I blamed him, I did betray him, but I still loved him and I thought he loved me!

Kriss and I reached the doors at the same time, there was a huge smile on her face and her hair still looked a bit windswept. Maxon had probably told her that she was going to win. I pushed past the pain, pushed my shoulders back, walked tall, and painted a smile on my face as we entered, leaving the guards at the door and walking together towards the chairs either side of Maxon. I was on his right and Kriss on his left. He stared ahead blankly as we sat down, as if he was still contemplating his decision. Did that mean I still had a chance? I wondered. No. I had to push those thoughts from my head, so that I didn't get my hopes up. Instead I stared ahead and tried to focus on other things. But nothing looked right. The guards looked…wrong.

"America, what's wrong?" Maxon whispered to be. That must have been a good sign.

"Those guards at the back just look a bit…shifty. I don't recognise them and they don't look as smart as the others." I whispered back without taking my eyes from one of the guards that kept looking around at the others.

"Me neither, actually. Maybe we got some new recruits since we've sent so many out to the provinces?"

"I hope so." I muttered. He turned back to staring away from everything and I continued to stare at the guard. "Maxon!" I whispered and tugged on his arm. I nodded my head towards the guard as he looked around and moved towards the back row, one hand in his pocket.

"What is going on?" He muttered. He clicked his fingers and a guard looked at him, Maxon pointed and the guard set off running towards the shifty guard.

That set him off as no sooner had the guard started running than the other one set a bullet into the back of Celeste's head. Maxon and I both stood, at the same time as several of the guards took red bandanas out of their pockets and tied them around their heads. One headed straight for us, gun pointed and ready to shoot.

"Kriss, come on." Maxon shouted as he grabbed my hand and sprinted off towards a side door.

I heard a shot fired behind us but dared not to turn around. Another shot, but this time I felt a searing pain in my side, I clutched at it with my free hand and groaned out but didn't stop running, no matter how bad it was. I'd been shot, but I wasn't going to let it kill me.

We came out into the corridor and saw red guards headed towards us, Maxon quickly pulled us down a side corridor and another and another. Eventually we came out at another hallway, and could no longer hear the heavy boots of the guards and the rebels. Maxon pulled out his key, opened a secret door and pushed the Kriss and I inside. I immediately collapsed, without the adrenaline of being chased keeping me going, I suddenly realised how much pain I was in.

Maxon picked me up and carried me over to the little bed on the back wall and Kriss walked over with the first-aid kit. I felt Kriss prodding at my side as Maxon crouched by my head and rubbed my hand. I felt my eyes dropping as the pain increased with every second. I was trying my hardest not to scream or shout but I was fairly sure I could hear myself screaming on several occasions.

"Come on, America. Stay with me please!" I heard Maxon sob but I could already feel the world around me fading into darkness.

My eyelids fluttered open and I was greeted by an intense pain in my side, I groaned. I wanted to sit up so that I could see the room but I knew that it was going to hurt far too much. Instead I settled for staring at the white ceiling. Even if I could see nothing. I heard the door open and someone walk in.

"Who's there?" I called but got no answer as they closed the door and I heard their footsteps walking away. I sighed, I'd wanted someone to tell me what was going on. What had happened since I passed out? Who'd died? Was anyone ok? Was Maxon? I don't think I could bare it if something happened to anyone.

The door crashed open and someone rushed over to me and grabbed my hand. I winced slightly at the pain.

"Sorry." Maxon whispered but didn't let go. "I didn't want you to wake up alone, and I swear I only stepped out for two minutes and that was when you chose to wake up."

"That's me." I laughed, painfully. "What happened?" I asked after a moment.

"After you passed out, Kriss and I patched you up as best we could and then we waited. We must have been in there four or five hours and you never stirred once. We both feared the worst. Then the guards came and told us it was safe to come out and I carried you straight here. Then they told me that my father died and that my mother was in the hospital being treated for a gunshot wound, they're hopeful but there's a chance she won't make it. We've been here for the past two hours." He explained, I could hear the sorrow in his voice at the possible loss of both his parents. I squeezed his hand gently in comfort.

"Maxon, I have to know. Were you with Kriss this morning?"

"I knew I'd seen you up on your balcony. Yes. But it wasn't what you think. I was merely explaining to her why I had to choose you, I can see why you may have thought something else since I left so early this morning-" It wasn't a dream! "But I had to get up and, you looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn't want to disturb you. Then, my mind was elsewhere this morning as I…it seems so stupid now but I was trying to recite my speech in my head. I didn't want to forget a single word. But then I have now…" I smiled. "Just remember that this wasn't planned to be said by your bedside while you can't even move enough to look at me." I tilted my head to the side until it started to hurt but it was worth it as I could finally see the chocolate-brown eyes and blonde hair that I loved. "I love you Miss Singer. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts when you are not by my side, it's as if half of my heart is missing. I need you and I need a Queen, someone to stand by my side, even when it's hard. I promise that I will always be beside you to support you and help you if you will make me the same promise and become my wife?"

He pulled out a box and revealed a golden ring with a purple amethyst and a green peridot intertwined. I smiled through the tears and nodded, stretching out my finger as much as I could as he placed it on. Maxon reached over and kissed me softly but, the pain no longer bothering me with him in my arms, I quickly pulled him towards me again with my newly engaged hand. He pulled away all too soon and placed his forehead on mine.

"I love you so much America Singer – or should I say Schreave?" He said and I smiled at the sound of my future name

"I love you, too Maxon Schreave. I love you and I always will."

[magicmonstersandmischief]

(Feel free to answer these for additional characters if you'd like [I'm always happy to learn more :D], but: For Ash, Grudge :: How bad does an insult go over? Do they hold a grudge long? For Steph, Network :: Are they connected to people? How much do they reach out to others? For Kriss, Vice :: What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of?)

Grudge (Ash): It depends on how well she knows the person insulting her. If its some rando, she’ll ignore it and them. She’ll remember their face and be sure to avoid them. If its someone she trusts more, it’ll sting, and she’s more likely to shut down than get angry. She doesn’t hold grudges so much as keep what’s been said in the back of her mind.

Network (Steph): Outside of going to bars from time to time, she doesn’t reach out to get to know others very often, she usually waits for the other person to come to her, afraid of looking desperate or of getting rejected. Once she’s close with someone, then she’ll start being a more active friend and reach out more.

Vice (Kriss): He’s got a lot of bad habits, he drinks a lot, but rarely gets drunk, and smokes when the mood suits him (tobacco and weed), he’s a ‘serial romantic’, and can often be found involved in shady business dealings. He’s not ashamed of any of this, a rarely tries to hide it. The only thing he’s truly ashamed of is his fears, namely his fear of body’s of water (anything pool sized or larger). He hates to admit it, but just the sight of deep water makes him sick.