the-eternal-tide

When Kathryn left, we agreed to meet again when Voyager returned from the Yaris Nebula. I waited at a cafe in Venice for her to arrive. I wanted to make it official and propose. She didn’t show up.
— 

- The Eternal Tide, Kirsten Beyer.

I’M SORRY BUT

HE WAS GOING TO PROPOSE??  

I reread this often and just die all over again

She’s back now; is he still going to or….??

I NEED THIS BOOK IN MY LIFE LIKE RIGHT NOW

i’d never normally make a post like this but.

an ex-mutual of mine who cut off ties with me 6 months ago because i didnt agree with their ace headcanon for a character. when i called them out for subtweeting and talking shit about me where they knew i could see over something so pointless and argumentative, they publicly called me abusive and “acephobic” and refused to speak to me again or apologise for the things they had done not only to me, but several of my close friends. they have repeatedly lashed out at close friends over nothing and then excused it with things that are happening in their own lives, they use their mis to justify abusive behavior, and they are a person i dont feel safe communicating with.

they are also in procession of over $400 belonging to me that they are refusing to give back.

every time i have tried to get the money back in the past 6 months, they’ve thrown a fit and deactivated their account to try and make me feel guilty for ever asking. i’ve had several friends approach them about it and each of them have been met with excuses about problems with their account, problems in their personal life, before eventually being accused of attacking them and being blocked. i have no idea how to get this money back, they live in america and i do not and i dont have any way of forcing them to give it back short of trying to file for legal action and i just cant do that.

i know there are so many much more deserving people on this website and i would never ask you to give anything to me that you could instead share with someone who needs it more. but please if you have even a small amount to spare if you could send it to my paypal i would be so eternally grateful, just to tide me over. i would get anything you send to me back as soon as i possibly good, hopefully from the $400 is i ever fucking get it back.

if you could even just reblog this it would mean so much to me. this is what ace discourse looks like irl ahaha. love and appreciate you all so much

paypal.me/savethembees

8

“I haven’t been alive much longer than you have, but in that time I’ve traveled through the multiverse, met and interacted with countless beings, many of them beyond your comprehension, and in all that time, I only made one friend.” “Who?” Icheb asked, curious. “You, you idiot.” Q smirked. - Star Trek: Voyager: The Eternal Tide

Nine Knots Charm


Seven shells, a raven’s stone, and two old weathered bones,

Nine knots to bind the wind, or so the story goes.


Each knot holds a secret key, sung on the ocean waves,

an old leather strap has caught the wind, as sure as deadmen’s graves.

We raise the leather to the sky, and call out the sacred names.

We call three times for each knot, three times we do exclaim:


“Where sea and sky do meet, the water is our soul.
Where cloud and waves are one, the salt our tears extol.

In our blood a fire is eternally quenched,
By the tides that drive the wind over the open fetch.”


With our tears and breath we bind that spirit’s hastening air.

To be unleashed at our command these words we must declare:


“Spirits of the wind, come forth from untied knot,
Bring on the coming gale for which this spell is wrought.
Spirits of the air, your ancient dance is called anew,
Unleash your frenzy like a storm on darkened seas untrue.”


Tears of pain and tears of laughter work in equal parts,

to hold fast the wind in knots you’ve tied with subtle cunning arts.

To ask the spirits to subside, to call off that quicken’d air,

Call out three times these baneful words and never do despair:


“Lay the Air, let it lie, quite spirit wind.
Quell the storm, Gale subside, my tears I do rescind.”

Relaunch Ficlet - “One...”

Like most things, this is @mia-cooper‘s fault.  She made me read the end of Eternal Tide again.  This is payback.  

*Spoilers for the K. Beyer novel (Full Circle) within*


The first thing he does is drop to his knees.

Shattered glass lies all around in equal amounts of large and minuscule shards. 

Their previously coherent, shiny surfaces have been irrecoverably destroyed upon impact with cobblestone – it mirrors what the man in front of him has just done to the entire universe with two simple words.  

“She is.”

They ring in his ears.

He begins sweeping the ground with his palms trying to clean up the damage he has just done.  It’s the only thing he can do at the moment - try to make something right.  

The glass scrapes and cuts him.  He begins to bleed.  A strong hand catches his wrist and stops his efforts.

With assistance he is led to sit back in a cold chair.

He doesn’t accept when the waiter comes to offer a glass of water.  He doesn’t protest when the maître d’ appears with a brush and pan to sweep away the rest.  He doesn’t flinch when the stones he had so carefully collected are discarded in the trash.  They don’t matter anymore.  Nothing does.

He doesn’t feel pain or sorrow.  He isn’t angry or even confused.  He is blank.  

Shock, he thinks in a flash of coherency.  I’m in shock.  He is instantly hot and shaking.

Then he realizes he hasn’t been breathing.

One breath, he thinks.  I need to take one breath. 

It is an eternity before his lungs fill again and when they do it is purely from muscle memory. The air burns. Existence now comes in gasps and chokes and then he blacks out.

He wakes in a familiar place.  But how he got home, he can’t remember.  All he can recall are the last words he heard.  “She is.”  Before the darkness has a chance to overtake him again he hears sounds coming from the hall.  

“One moment,” a voice says.  

He recognizes the timbre. Mark, he thinks.  That’s how I got home.

There is a muffled conversation taking place now between the man and someone else with a husky but feminine voice.  It is hard for him to make out as he swings his legs over the edge of his unkempt bed.  But for an instant it sounds just like….

It can’t be.

He runs, tripping over his feet to reach the door and swings it open with the urgency of a man on fire.  

He sees her from behind and his heart soars.  The fog, the pain, wrenching grief lifts for an instant until….

“Chakotay,” she says, turning slowly.  “I’m so sorry,” then she’s coming to him.  “I know you were close to my sister.”

He falls through the floor and rolls once again into the pit that is now his life.

“Phoebe,” he chokes.  “I….”

She rushes to him, arms are thrown around his muscular shoulders.  And for an instant the sister feels like she did.  Smells like she did.  It’s almost too much to bear.

“One day,” she sobs into his shoulder.  “One day we’ll make them pay for what they did to us.”

He says “yes” to support her, not because it matters.  Not because anything matters anymore.  He doesn’t even know who ‘they’ are yet.

When she finally releases him and they have come back to a point of calmness the three gather around his dining room table.

“We have some plans that we need to see to,” Mark says solemnly.  Then the man speaks of services and monuments and details that won’t stick in Chakotay’s mind. All he can really do is nod and hope that someone else will take care of whatever needs to be done.  

When the two have left and he is alone again in the deafening silence, he sits on a chair and stares mindlessly out the window.  The bright, warm sunshine is unbefitting of the cold, dark emptiness in his soul.

I should be in space, he thinks.  In darkness.  This isn’t right.

He closes his eyes to place himself away from the harsh light of reality.

How.  How will I ever…?

Then, as if whispered into his ear, words seep through.  They are clear and exacting - drawn from moments of the previous hours.  He opens his eyes.

One breath, he thinks.  And then he inhales, the fresh air purifies his mind.  

One moment, he knows.  And he looks upon the sky because that’s where she will always belong to him.  

One day, he believes.  I will see her again.  And he is right.  

He just has to take this one day at a time.


From the prompt:  One breath, one moment, one day at a time.  -K. Beyer, “The Eternal Tide”

Velusos, Tide of Eternity

The Fourth Titan. He who appears as a great tsunami, washing over the landscape, restoring mana to the dead planes consumed by Ulamog. Vesulos rebuilds reality layer by layer, slowly erasing the work done by Kozilek, until the plane is unrecognizable from what it once was.

The cycle is nearly complete, and the Tide of Eternity prepares His departure, as the Fifth Titan makes Her descent…

Based on @the-foxwolf‘s theory of The Eldrazi Stewards.

Commissions are available!

Moon
of the sea,
each night
you wash yourself
and wake
misted
by eternal dawn,
wed ceaselessly
with sky, with air,
with sea wind,
gradually
expelled
by the rhythmic
contractions of the tide,
clean as fingernails
m ocean
brine.
[…]
At night
I gaze at you,
pure
lighted
lamp
of the sky,
fresh, newborn
from the waves,
and I sleep
beneath your limpid,
shining sphere,
universal clock,
white rose.
[…]
and to your fresh
eternity of silver
and tides
my heart owes
its leaven.
—  Pablo Neruda, from “Ode to the Moon of the Sea,” Selected Odes of Pablo Neruda (California Press, 1990)
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