looks across the sea

You know what I want to see? A Holmes adaptation that gets the ages right and does the stories more or less chronologically. Starts with their meeting in their late 20s in STUD and ends with them looking out across the sea in their 60s, anticipating that east wind in LAST. We watch them as they age over the course of 60 stories. 

please consider Kida/Ariel!! They’d be PERFECT together

  • Atlantis and Atlantica are fictional aquatic places. Who’s to say that they’re not situated close to each other?
  • Ariel frequently travels around looking for sunken ships and human artifacts that are scattered across the sea. Kida’s a highly adept swimmer/athlete who explores a lot herself. It wouldn’t take much for these two to accidentally stumble upon each other.
  • One of Ariel’s strongest traits is her need to learn things. She’s pretty much a self-taught amateur anthropologist.
  • Kida has lived for a very long time, she possesses knowledge gained over the course of 8 thousand+ years. Think of what she could teach Ariel! Scuttle definitely wasn’t a competent teacher, but Kida would set Ariel on the right path. Kida would be the firm but patient type.
  • Kida’s probably the only non-mermaid that could keep up with Ariel underwater.
  • They’re both curious, active, fearless people. They’d go on so many adventures together!!

Books Read in 2016 » Replica by Lauren Oliver

└ When she was little, she’d liked to pretend that stars were really lights anchoring distant islands, as if she wasn’t looking up but only out across a dark sea. She knew the truth now but still found stars comforting, especially in their sameness. A sky full of burning replicas.

Censored NYC History: Martin Luther King Jr. essentially told a gathering of NYC’s elite reporters and church gatherers that America’s best defense against Communism was a “positive revolution of values” upholding humanity over profiteering and violent domination.

…A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life’s roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see than an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring. [applause]

A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation, it will look across the seas and see individual capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa, and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries, and say, “This is not just.” It will look at our alliance with the landed gentry of South America and say, “This is not just.” The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not just.

A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, “This way of settling differences is not just.” This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation’s homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.

America, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, can well lead the way in this revolution of values. There is nothing except a tragic death wish to prevent us from reordering our priorities so that the pursuit of peace will take precedence over the pursuit of war. There is nothing to keep us from molding a recalcitrant status quo with bruised hands until we have fashioned it into a brotherhood….

- April 4th, 1967 - Riverside Church, NYC

“I care about you”

Here’s my amedot mini fic I wrote. Honestly I just wanted to write about them on the beach together and it kinda went in this direction.

I know I could improve so any criticism is great thanks!


The sound of laughter filled the atmosphere as Peridot finished her story. The green gem beamed at her friend’s laughter. All she ever wanted to do was make Amethyst happy. There was something about the quartz’s laughter and smile that Peridot just couldn’t figure out.

Amethyst’s laughter died out and soon all that could be heard was the waves crashing onto the shore.

“Ya’ know Peri, you never fail to make me laugh.” Amethyst smiled, looking out across the vast sea. A subtle blush formed on Peridot’s cheeks.

“Wow, thanks.”  She grinned, taking the compliment. Silence fell upon them, the cold and gentle night air stinging their skin. Peridot’s eyes travelled upwards to the stars, Amethyst noticed this and decided to join her.

“Stars are pretty, huh?” Amethyst whispered.

“Yeah.” Peridot nodded, “You’re kind of like a star, Amethyst.”

“Wh-what?” Amethyst stuttered, turning to Peridot.

“You said stars are pretty, you’re pretty Amethyst.” Peridot gazed at the sky above.

“Y-you think, I’m pretty?”

“That’s what I said.” Peridot looked at Amethyst with confusion.

“No one, No one’s ever said that to me before…” Amethyst looked down, a dark purple shade on her face.

“Well! I just did!” Peri smirked. “I meant it to.”


“Is something wrong?”

“It’s just…” Amethyst hesitated. “I don’t feel pretty. I’m not what I’m supposed to be, I’m supposed to be big.”

“Well, sure but…” Peridot paused. “That’s not all you are.”

“Isn’t it?” Amethyst looked up. “I’m… supposed to be stronger, right?”

“You’re perfect as you are. Why do you doubt yourself?”

“Because I’m dragging them down all the time.

“Dragging who down?”

“Steven, Pearl, Garnet… everyone.”

“They don’t think that.”

“You wouldn’t know…”

“They care about you Amethyst!” Peridot’s yelling caught Amethyst off guard. “I…” Peridot faltered. “I care about you…” The two of them looked at each other. “They-, they’re your family… they don’t think you’re a burden!”

Amethyst looked down. Peridot’s hand was on top of hers. She felt warm tears against her cold face.


“It’s not funny Amethyst, that wasn’t a joke.”

“I know. “ Amethyst giggled. “But it’s kinda funny to me.”


A short McGenji drabble for @enbytoon, who was really dismayed by the lack of McGenji in the world. Now I kinda ship it, too. Thanks.

“Feels weird to be back here, don’t it?”

McCree learned early on how to read Genji’s emotions from his body language rather than his face. Still, the cyborg manages to give nothing away as he lifts his head to regard McCree, interrupted from his peaceful meditation.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were actually busy, should I–?” McCree starts, but Genji shakes his head.

“No, it is fine. Please, join me,” he says, gesturing to the sparse grass beside him. McCree accepts the invitation and carefully, wary of the cliff’s edge, eases himself down beside his old friend.

As he looks out across the sea, legs dangling over the cliff to kick his heels against the rocks, McCree is overcome by a wave of nostalgia. He remembers evenings just like this spent on this ledge, smoking and drinking and laughing with old friends, the smell of cigarillo smoke intermingling with the salty spray of the sea. He had never thought he would see Gibraltar again, let alone sitting beside his old flame. A current of bittersweetness underlies the nostalgia as he remembers the time spent with Genji here, years ago.

“It is weird,” Genji admits after a long moment. “I left for many reasons. I did not expect to be back.”

“Yeah,” McCree agrees with a nod. “Same here. Once Overwatch was disbanded, I figured that was the end of it, y’know?”

He breathes deep, relishing the salty tang in the air, refreshing and familiar. “It’s good, though,” he adds. “Good to see everyone again. Didn’t realize how much I missed the old team until I got back.” He pauses for emphasis, then adds, “Some more than others.”

Genji chuckles, but there is a wistful air to it. “You did not change at all, did you, Jesse,” he says, a statement more than a question.

“It seems to work for me. But you seem like you’re doing … better. What have you been up to all this time?”

“I am better, yes. I am a different man now. More …” He trails off, searching for words. “More complete, I suppose. I know who I am again. Meeting my master has allowed me to come to peace with what I am.”

McCree lets himself smile, just a bit. “I’m real glad to hear that,” he says honestly, because he still remembers–the broken young man wheeled in on Angela’s stretcher, the agony of physical therapy that sometimes left him sobbing, the sheer anger and self-loathing that nearly tore him apart from the inside out. When Genji had left, leaving Overwatch–and their tenuous relationship–behind, McCree had half-expected to find him again as a body.

He takes a deep breath to steel himself. “Genji, listen, I–”

“You’re here to talk about us. I know.” Genji looks at him with a little tilt to his head: amusement. “You are not nearly so subtle as you like to believe.”

“I ain’t tryin’ to be subtle. If you asked me right now, I’d tell you the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That I’ve missed your pretty face damn near every day since you left.” McCree can’t bring himself to make eye contact–for whatever that means when speaking to a visor-clad cyborg–and turns his attention back out to the horizon.

Beside him, Genji sighs quietly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was … angry. About a lot of things. I barely felt like a person. When I left, I assumed Overwatch would move on without  me, and so would you.”

“Well, I mean, we all got on with our lives, but that was an awful shock to wake up to, y’know?” McCree remembers waking up that morning five years ago like any other day, striking out into the base to find his lover, and being told point-blank by a teary Angela that Genji had left. There had been no warning, only a note left behind.

“In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have left quite so dramatically.”

“No, but that’s in the past now. I didn’t come all the way up here to harp on you about what happened years ago.” McCree licks his lips, hesitates. “What I came up here for was to see how you felt about tryin’ it again.”

Genji lifts his head sharply. “What?”

“I mean,” McCree continues, scraping the heel of his boot against the rocky cliffside, “I know it’s been years and all. But damned if I don’t still feel somethin’ for you.”

“I don’t–” Genji cuts himself off, unfolds himself from his cross-legged position. “I did not think …”

“I don’t wanna push it if you don’t want it,” McCree interrupts. “I just thought, maybe, with both of us back here for Overwatch and how things ended …”

“It isn’t that,” Genji sighs. “Actually, I feel the same.”

McCree’s heart gives am an extra hard thud against his ribs. “Yeah?”


“You don’t sound too certain.”

Genji rubs the back of his neck, a surprisingly human gesture. “It is not that I am uncertain of the feelings,” he says. “But it has been so long, and I thought you would be angry for how I left before. I did not expect you to want this again. And with everything happening now with Overwatch …”

“Aw, none of that matters anymore. If you want it, too, that’s all that matters to me.”

Genji doesn’t answer for a long moment, his gaze turned toward the sea. “C’mon,” McCree urges gently, knocking his knee against Genji’s. “Let me see that pretty face again?”

He watches as Genji slowly, haltingly, lifts his hands to the back of his visor and presses against the latch. The visor gives a little hiss as it detaches from its mooring, and in one smooth movement, Genji removes the entirety of his visor and helmet and sets them on the cliff beside him. Then he looks at McCree.

The scars are older now, paler but still etched deep into skin, a patternless series of criss-crossed lines on his nose and cheeks. His hair is no longer an artificial green, but a shock of black, which sets into spikes as Genji nervously runs his hand through. Despite the years, Genji looks much the same: a little older, a little less angry, but still the same young man McCree remembers.

“Still the handomest picture I’ve ever seen,” McCree murmurs, and Genji gives a self-conscious laugh. McCree has a hand half-raised before he even realizes what he’s doing, and he brushes his thumb along the longest of the scars: a thin, long line that runs from the corner of Genji’s left eye and down, over his cheekbone and across his lips. When he catches himself, he flushes and takes back his hand. “Sorry, that was probably a bit–”

“No,” Genji interrupts, a smile pulling up the scarred corners of his mouth. “It is fine. I …”

He trails off. McCree watches his gaze flick to the side, his brows scrunching, as though coming to a decision. Then, so quickly that McCree’s eyes can’t track the movement: a hand on the back of his neck, a mischievous smile, a mouth pressed against his.

They both end up grinning too hard to maintain the kiss for more than a second, and Genji pulls back with a little chuckle. “Does that answer the question?” he asks, eyes glittering playfully with the gold light of the setting sun.

“Y’know what,” McCree says, already leaning back in, “I think it does.”

The next kiss feels like something brand-new yet perfectly familiar all at once. He gently kisses the scar on Genji’s upper lip, like he used to do in years past, and feels Genji smile against his mouth again. He slides a hand along Genji’s jaw, sinking his fingertips into soft, short hair, and gives himself over as Genji’s lips part beneath his. It feels like returning home, warm and welcoming and comforting.

It feels like starting again.

Beyond the Volca Sea

So, re-reading WoTv2 this evening, I think this passage from Brother Genitivi (my man) gets a lot more interesting post-Trespasser. 

The Mysterious West

(World of Thedas, Vol. 2)

If one journeys west across the Anderfels, one will reach the settlement of Laysh. Once a sprawling port town, Laysh largely fell to ruin after the Third Blight…but not, as one might suppose, due to darkspawn attacks. The entire purpose of Laysh was to receive ships from across the Volca Sea, odd-looking cargo vessels that would arrive with wares and spices of a like never before seen in Thedas. The trade was lucrative enough to justify Laysh’s existence even in such harsh territory, at least until the traders stopped coming early in the Black Age. 

According to Ander legend, these traders were called Voshai. They were also said to be hostile to the people of Laysh, completely uninterested in learning the king’s tongue for anything more than barter, and almost obsessively interested in acquiring lyrium. Also of interest are the tales that said the captain of every Voshai ship were dwarves, treated with such deference that it implied dwarves held a place of profound power in their society…or, at the very least, among seafarers in their culture. In contrast, there are no reports of elves on the Voshai ships. 

While Laysh was hardly a port of sufficient size to build sturdy ships, it is said that several Tevinter merchant houses banded together to mount an expedition, with the thought, “if they won’t come to us, we’ll go to them.” The expedition did not return, and neither did the few vessels that followed, until eventually all interest in the Voshai faded. Reports in recent years suggest the Voshai ships may have returned to Laysh, supposedly carrying tales of a “massive cataclysm” in their homeland – the reason for their absence, perhaps? – though the truth of these reports is questionable at best.

A dwarven-led society? Some sort of cataclysm? REALLY into lyrium? All very interesting. How much do you want to bet Solas & Mythal have their hands in this. The only other mention of the Volca Sea that comes to mind is this cryptic little old-English number from Trespasser:

Codex Entry: Moldy Journal

Mold and rot have eaten most of the pages of these books. The remaining vellum i covered in spiky handwriting with spelling that is either archaic, wildly idiosyncratic, or both:

…saw yht cross from the Volca, that which draggeth souls down to yhts larder in the brinedark. Hys beast preyth on humblewits and goldsworn even & the tower’s keeper declares I will rest here if yht would ease me. The elvhen, which pulled me grip-up from my end, kends he is last of his kynde. I made it known elvhen live south-like, but he says yht would not be as yht was & I said that’s evertrue & he laughed lark-like. Come dark he showed me a mirror deep strange, an “eluvian” sworne to beene in his family for…

Putting aside how fascinating an account of a bitter ancient elf in a tower with an eluvian is, I had always assumed that the author’s idiosyncracies were just a function of the age of the account. But could this be the writings of one of the Voshai, before they stopped voyaging east in the Black Age?

(tagging @rederiswrites because I know you always love weird dwarven lore nuggets as much as I do ;)

Compilation of various JEAN/Jerejean headcanons about stars (vaguely.. I deviate a few times.. but like deviation on a theme!) 

(This is going to be a mix of old/already mentioned somewhere HC’s and some new/unmentioned ones… so sorry for any repeats but my hunt for all the original posts was going absolutely nowhere)


Keep reading

Captain Hook Imagine

*You and Hook are going sailing, Hook is steering his ship watching the seas and you are watching him in his natural habitat*

Hook: What are you looking at love have you never seen anyone steer a ship before?

Y/N: Yes I have, but when you do it, its different its as if you are the boat and you know the seas better than anyone I’ve ever seen..

Hook: *turns around to look at you* Well why don’t you give it a try and see how it feels

Y/N: Okay. Im guessing that you typically don’t let ever average girl do this? Do you?

Hook: Love you aren’t just an average girl you’re my girl *leans in and kisses you*

Y/N: *You go behind the wheel. Hook is behind you helping you guide the ship across the sea. When you look at him and see that he’s not looking at the sea but instead watching you watch the sea.* You know what I think that I have the best boyfriend ever. *kisses him on the cheek* 

Hook: Aye.  

“He looked across the sea and knew how alone he was now. But he could see the prisms in the deep dark water and the line stretching ahead and the strange undulation of the calm. The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water, then blurring, then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.” ~ Ernest Hemingway, from Old Man and the Sea.

Morgoth & Men

Bereg: (Of House Bëor) So we know that this is not the land of light we were looking for …
Marach: (Son of Malach) Yeah, that place is across the sea, and we can’t get there.
Amlach: (Son of Imlach) So what do we do?
Bereg: These elf guys are still kind of creepy and weird though, let’s be real.
Morgoth: Hello, hi, you want to see the fancy light place across the sea? I’m a mighty powerful super Valar and I can totes get you there. Just give me a hand. Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.
Marach: …. um.
Bereg: …. uuuh …
Morgoth: Think it over, guys. No need to rush.
Bereg: *calls a meeting for the men* Okay guys, I heard from the elves that this “Dark King” guy is kind of evil and we should not associate with him.
Marach: Yeah, and, like, the elves keep fighting him and he keeps saying to go north, but that seems like a bad idea.
Bereg: Our lives are short enough, ok. The elves can take this dark dude we can just go … idk anywhere else.
“Amlach”: The elves are just talking shit because they are trying to scare you n00bs. The gods are greedy and the elves are liars. Morgoth is obv the only way to go.
Men: *sit and consider this hm*
“Amlach”: Plus he’s totally rad.

αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς / δακρύσας ἑτάρων ἄφαρ ἕζετο νόσφι λιασθείς / θῖν’ ἔφ’ ἁλὸς πολιῆς ὁρόων ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον / πολλὰ δὲ μητρὶ φίλῃ ἠρήσατο χεῖρας ὀρεγνύς […] ὣς φάτο δάκρυ χέων τοῦ δ’ ἔκλυε πότνια μήτηρ / ἡμένη ἐν βένθεσσιν ἁλὸς παρὰ πατρὶ γέροντι / καρπαλίμως δ’ ἀνέδυ πολιῆς ἁλὸς ἠΰτ’ ὀμίχλη / καί ῥα πάροιθ’ αὐτοῖο καθέζετο δάκρυ χέοντος / χειρί τέ μιν κατέρεξεν ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἔκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε / τέκνον τί κλαίεις τί δέ σε φρένας ἵκετο πένθος / ἐξαύδα μὴ κεῦθε νόῳ ἵνα εἴδομεν ἄμφω.

Withdrawing from his men, Achilles broke into tears. He sat down by himself on the shores of the great sea and looked out across the boundless ocean. Then, stretching out his arms, he poured out prayers to his mother. […] So he spoke in tears, and his lady mother heard him where she sat in the depths of the sea with her old father. She rose swiftly from the grey water like a mist, came and sat by her weeping son, stroked him with her hand and said : ‘My child, why these tears ? Why this sorrow ? Tell me, don’t keep it to yourself. We must share it.’
—  Homer – The Iliad, Book I, vv. 343-363.

anonymous asked:

NAC: Mod, if you could genderbend one character, who would you choose?

I would probably have to choose Hook. Not to say that there’s anything wrong with Hook being a guy, but I can’t help thinking of how cool it would have been if they had chosen to have Hook portrayed by a woman. 

Imagine it: Hook and Milah as two ladies making up a completely badass pirate power couple. The men on the ship fear them, and respect them, and they travel across the seas together looking for everything and nothing all at once. The story could have gone somewhat the same, but perhaps the real reason Milah hated life with Rumpelstiltskin so much could have been that she was never in love with him because she never wanted to marry a man in the first place, but she grew up according to her parents’, and society’s plans. 

Then along comes this cocky, confident young woman in leather everything and far too much eyeliner who promises Milah the adventure of a lifetime and the love she’s always dreamed of but could never have. How can she say no? She doesn’t want to, but she’s got a man and child - a child she wished she could have raised alone - at home. It’s so right but so wrong, and she knows that it is better for all of them if she goes.

Fast forward to Emma Swan meeting this smug young woman who reminds her of the kind of people one of her foster mothers had told her to stay away from but Emma had never listened. Leaving her up on that beanstalk gives Emma Swan a nemesis in the vengeful pirate, but Hook can’t quite bring herself to hate the saviour as much as she wants to and so the story plays out the way we have seen - the struggle, the chase, and the journey to a happy ending. 

And a female Hook/Belle friendship would be so amazing. Hook watches Belle struggling to hold herself together after the aftermath of her relationship’s end, and is there for Belle to offer words of encouragement. And she’d ensure Belle that she made the right decision in ending a dangerous relationship, that she is a strong person, that she is a good person. And Belle would ask about Milah, and what really happened, and so a new friendship begins.

Try and tell me that that doesn’t sound even a little bit awesome.