Reddit: u/smooth-option-4375 Discord Name: Swag Name and House: Waymar Corbray of House Corbray Age: 24 Cultural Group: Andal Appearance:
A tall man, lean yet muscular after the fashion of a professional athlete. He has the build of a knight who favors lithe dexterity over sheer strength.
When garbed for battle he is an intimidating figure, wearing a mail hauberk and chausses covered with a blackened steel cuirass, with a white surcoat emblazoned with the sigil of his house: a black raven in flight carrying a red heart. On his limbs, he wears steel vambraces, darkened black, enclosed around his forearms and simple should guards. On his feet, he dons hard leather boots with steel toes, that rise to meet steel leg greaves.
On his side swings a scabbard that holds his ancestral longsword, its pommel housing a dark red ruby in the shape of a heart. The guard as simple as it is ancient.
Though young he has a well-worn face, making him appear some years older than he ought to. Hardened from long hours in the sun and scarred from battle. He has piercing blue eyes, and cheeks rough with stubble.
When on the road, he will be found with a travel-stained cloak and hood, tied to his shoulders. Never far from his side is his massive, pitch black destrier Warlord, who stands at the considerable seventeen hands high at the shoulder.
Compared to most nobility he makes a pitiful sight, his armor is darkened, scratched, and dented. His clothing torn and mended a dozen times over. Dressed in hardy cloth and wool rather than more extravagant furs and silks. Despite his outward appearance however, he bears the heart full of valor and chivalry.
Trait: Strong Skills: Andal Knight (e), Swords, Water Dancer, Riding Talents: Etiquette, Heraldry & Tourney Lore, Outdoorsmanship Starting Titles: The Wayfarer, Hastiluder of Hearts Home Starting Location: [Starting Event]
BIOGRAPHY:
Ser Waymar Corbray was born into the noble house of Corbray in the year 1 AC to the Raven Knight, Lord Corwyn Corbray and Lady Ellyn Hightower. The pair spared no expense with any of their children despite the houses less than robust financial situation, thinking of it as the most sure of investments.
Lady Ellyn, a woman of refined taste and abnormal learning saw to it that Waymar (and the other children) were all well versed in etiquette and had a firm grasp of the intricacies of court life. In particular she bonded with Waymar, Corenna, and Tristan by sharing her love of literature, music, arts, and story telling. This had the dual purpose of sharing her loves but also ensuring the children grew up knowledgeable and well-rounded nobles.
On the other hand, Lord Corwyn focused on their martial educations. Where Colmar received the lions share, especially in terms of governance and lordship, Waymar was free to pursue and focus solely on knightly pursuits. Lord Corwyn himself, well known across the seven kingdoms as 'The Raven Knight' was both a superior commander and deadly swordsman, teaching the now famous Ser Rolland his art.
One of, if not the first momentous events that shaped Waymar's life was the birth of his younger brother Tristan. Tristan grew up with great difficulty, small, frail, and lacking the ability to speak many considered him ill-fated and treated him with contempt. Waymar however quickly developed a deeply engraved sense of guardianship over Tristan, and the two grew inseperable. Each day Tristan would attend his brothers studies, and each night Waymar would regale his brother with stories of epic heroes, fell deeds, and legendary champions.
The second was the Mooncrest Tourney, where Waymar entered in secret as a Mystery Knight: The Knight of the Wild Wood. During the tupinaire, Waymar encountered his elder brother and defeated him soundly. He went on to fight and overcome the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Malwyn Blackwood. Earning himself a knighthood when his identity was later revealed, for scoring seven strikes in seven seconds, with each strike having the force of three men'. This day was one of the best and worst days in the young Waymar's life: It was the day he was knighted by a living legend and it was the day a rift was formed that would never heal, between the two brothers.
The third was young Tristan's plan to study at Oldtown. In an attempt to separate the ever more violent Colmar and the young Waymar, Tristan convinced his parents to allow him to study at Oldtown and to take with him a small entourage for security. Amongst them was Waymar who, during there travel entered into the Strawberry Hall tourney.
His showing there was impressive if varied, fairing well in the melee, tupinaire, and archery contest, even going so far to claim first in the footrace. Unfortunately an administrative error meant that he was disqualified from the joust, his match timing being changed at short notice and the heralds unable to contact him in time to advise him of such.
This was however the start of his errantry. Taking near a year to return to Heart's Home where he stayed for only handful of weeks before departing again.
Now a man grown, Waymar travels Westeros following the tourney circuit, participating in as many as he can. The knight has earnt himself the moniker ‘The Wayfarer.’ A mocking title meant to demean him and his families fortune as he would walk rather than ride from place to place, lacking the funds to have a second horse and unwilling to tire his treasured destrier “Warlord.” Despite its original purpose, he bears the title with great pride.
Unbeknownst to lords and commonfolk alike, even those within the Halls of Heart’s Home, Waymar has been sending his earnings home to his younger brother who has been named Castellan of Heart’s Home, though for what purpose only the pair could know.
TIMELINE:
10 AC — Lord Corwyn and Lady Ellen marry. 3 BC — Colmar Corbray is born, eldest son of House Corbray and Heir to Hearts Home. 1 BC — Corenna Corbray is born, second eldest of House Corbray. 1 AC — Waymar Corbray is born, second eldest son of House Corbray. 6 AC — Lord Corwyn leads a band of knights against the Root Father & the Sons of the Tree. 7 AC — Trisan Corbray is born. 10 AC — Waymar attends the Maiden Bay tourney and begins his dream of becoming the Greatest Knight in the Realm. 14 AC — The Cavaliers visit Heart’s Home to secure recruits and sponsorship. 18 AC — Colmar Corbray marries XXXXX of House XXXXX at age 21. 19 AC — Mooncrest Tourney is held, Waymar enters as a mystery knight defeating his elder brother Colmar. 19 AC — For excellence with arms and unyielding valour Waymar is knighted by Ser Malwyn Blackwood, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 20 AC — Ser Waymar rides under Ser Godric Royce against the mountain clan raiders of the Burned Men clan, his first battlefield proper. 20 AC — Corenna Corbray marries Marq Grafton of Gulltown. 21 AC — Tristan leaves for Oldtown, intending to study at the Citadel and stay with their cousins. 21 AC — Waymar enters Strawberry Hall Tourney with mixed results, being suspiciously disqualified from the Lists. 22 AC — Janyce Swyft and Tristan Corbray become betrothed. 22 AC — The first piece of the Winged Knight armour is found, the quest for more pieces begin. 22-25 AC — Waymar travels Westeros largely by foot, earning himself the moniker Waymar the Wayfarer. 25 25 AC — Start Date

FAMILY TREE:

Auxiliary Character -------------------------
Name and House: Tristan Corbray
Age: 18
Cultural Group: Andal
Appearance:
A young man with who looks as young as he is, Tristans black hair is unruly and quite long, resting on his neck and usually covering his ears. Despite his inability to speak, Tristan has a warm and genuine smile. His eyes are a deep thoughtful blue, with freckles adorning his nose and cheeks. His skin pale, indicative of the long hours he has spent inside studying. Despite being called timid he moves and dresses with a quiet confidence and grace that comes from self-awareness. For Tristan, his silence is not a barrier but instead a weapon. Tristan is not the most striking nor handsome man, but he bears a comfortable and approachable appearance that endears him well with others.
Trait: Erudite
Skill(s): Scrutinous, Scholar (e)
Talent(s): Mechanisms, Puzzles, Arts & Music, Cyvasse
Negative Trait(s): Mute
Starting Title(s): The Timid
Starting Location: Starting Event
BIOGRAPHY:
A ferociously keen mind, Tristan is a maester born, with an endless appetite for puzzles and mystery and an eerie ability to calculate. Despite being considered a fool for much of his early life, he has blown away his detractors with his prodigious intelligence. At the age of 15 he entered the Citadel to study, and in just three short years has earned himself no less than 8 links being: black iron, copper, both yellow and red gold, silver, brass, lead, and pewter.
With his father’s recent illness, he has been summoned back to Heart’s Home and named Castellan of the Castle and aide to the Lord. Rumours abound as to how his elder brother has taken this, having shortly afterwards departed on a quest for the Wing Knights legacy.
Supporting Characters -----------------------------
Name and House: Martyn Rivers Archetype: Trader (+4 bonus to Trade)
In his youth Martyn Rivers was a sellsword in the riverlands. He first entered service with House Corbray prior to the battle of Misty Moor. Later, he returned to permanent service after the Riverlands went up in flames. Lord Corwyn took him in first as a trade caravan guard, but in the years since he has reached the lofty heights of seneschal.
Name and House: Maester Dormund Archetype: Scholar (+2 lore searches, +1 treating others)
Maester Dormund has served House Corbray for three generations, serving first serving Lord Corwyn’s Father Corswain and now advising the young Master Tristan. He is one of the few that both knows of, and understands Master Tristan’s sign and short hand conversationally, the others being his mother, sister, and favourite brother.

I love my mummy. She grew me from her insides, encased by the flesh that we share. She nourished me with the liquid pulsing through her rotten body. Together we play games, mummy shows me how to make dolls from the scraps of daddy’s meat, pretty girl dolls with long floppy limbs that reek of decay. I don’t like mummy after the sun goes down. She tells me we can’t make dolls anymore, tells me my dolls are stupid. At night I hide. I have to find a different hiding spot tonight; mummy found my last one at sunrise. I can see the claw marks from when she found me in the linen cupboard. Long nails attached to long fingers, penetrating the cheap wooden door until there was nothing but torn up paint and inch deep fleshless lacerations.
The sun is setting. The final flash of orange sky and her eyes will gloss over like daddy’s did when mummy found him. Wet film slicked over green ovals of empty rage. She still looks like mummy, only her mouth is a tight line that reaches from ear to ear and it can’t open very well. It’s all muffled words now. Mummy looks like a tree after the sun sets. Her arms and her legs grow longer, they get too heavy so she hunches over. I am going to hide under her bed. Daddy’s bulge is hidden under there. Mummy keeps it a secret, but I know. Her bed is thin and much too long and her black hair is tangled up in the sheets. The scent of her sweat stained cushion lingers into my nostrils and down to my lungs as I crawl under, deeper into the dark stinking pit at the center.
I see the warm shadows from the final seconds of sun dance through the handmade curtains at her window. Mummy took the skin off daddy’s body to make those. His bellybutton, still attached to his torso skin, looks like a little crystal in the golden light. The pretty shadows disappear, and the room is black. I can hear mummy looking for me. She’s laughing through that muffled slit on her face. There is death in her eyes and a tremor in her shrieking that makes me nervous. She is angry now. I wasn’t in the linen cupboard this time. I am too smart for her.
I curl in on myself in the safety of the dark and wiggle my loose teeth in waiting. The nights are slow because I cannot sleep. I never sleep. Mummy is still running around the house looking for me, grunts of anticipation much louder, much more feral, than any wild animal. A pool of blood starts to swirl under my head where a loose tooth has fallen. Not good. Mummy smells blood as much as she craves it. The door creaks open. Two long feet stand still in the doorway, toes curling from excitement at the scent of her baby’s blood. I pray I do not end up as curtains and dolls like daddy. Mummy is on the bed; she is digging up the insides of her mattress. Maybe if I stay still enough, she won’t find me. I want to be brave, like daddy was.
I roll onto my back, there's a big hole in the mattress above my head. My eyes take seconds to adjust to the darkness above before I see Mummy’s dewy eyes beaming into mine. “My baby is here” the tight line where her mouth has been stretched starts to open slightly and she drools on me through her words. Her hand pokes through the slats in the bed and she pinches my cheeks until blood pours out. “We need more dolls, baby. We need this skin”. Warm water leaks from my eyes onto the tips of her fingers where blood gushes. She draws her hand away and I feel her tugging at my feet, grunting like an impatient child. I cannot kick, for her fingers reach from her palms to my thighs. I am paralyzed in her grip, and I let her pull me out from under my final hiding spot. I am dragged by my blood-stained hair to the backyard where mummy likes to play.
“Mummy is thirsty, baby? You can’t keep all that blood. You’re not selfish”
Her muffled words are comprehensible enough to foresee the fate at which I am now destined for. I am here to feed her, to fuel her life, as she once did me. In the way shadows chase the light, how the moon must always put the sun to rest, birth must give way to death. In turn I must give life, my flesh and bone, to the creator of my life and my light. To return to the darkness that will always encompass her. it is her right.

Im newly diagnosed so still figuring things out. If im doing something that is causing numbness (balls of feet and toes) am I doing damage by ignoring it? I've always been bad at accepting my body's limits, I just always work through it pre dx.
I used to competitively dance and quit last year for unrelated reasons but planning on starting again next season. I did a freebie class (first class in 11 months) and halfway through I went numb. I still felt like I had control and wasn't going to fall. Should I sit out when things like this happen or keep going if it feels safe. Just don't want to cause myself more harm in the long run.

“Ready to make history, baby?”
I looked over toward Sheila as she stood on the gangplank leading up to The Burger. I still couldn’t believe she named our research ship ‘The Burger’... emotional relevance be damned.
“It's not exactly history,” I corrected.
“Oh come on! If your survey is right, this trench might run even deeper than the Challenger Deep, and you’re gonna be the first person to explore it! How is that not exciting?”
“Might be deeper, we only have a limited amount of topological data. And even if it is deeper, we’re talking only a few hundred feet at most, it’s really not that im-”
Sheila silenced me with a kiss.
“Nerd.” She teased, and I found myself too flustered to reply. After five years of marriage, she still could leave me speechless with just a kiss. God… how did someone like me end up with a woman like that?
Then again, how did someone like me end up where I was in general? It was honestly a little overwhelming. Standing on the dock, getting ready to board that ship and join the ranks of Jacques Piccard and James Cameron (yes, that James Cameron) as one of the few people to take a manned submersible down to the deepest parts of the ocean. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared too. Diving down that deep could easily be a one way trip if even the slightest thing went wrong. My submarine would be experiencing between 600 to 1100 atmospheres of pressure and while we’d tested it over and over again to make sure it would actually be up for the challenge, there was still a lingering iota of doubt in the back of my mind. All that needed to go wrong was one little thing, and that would be it for me.
The scariest part is that I probably wouldn’t even know what had happened… I’d simply be gone… and Sheila would be alone. The thought of that caused a momentary spike of panic in my chest that almost made me want to call this whole thing off.
Almost.
But, then I felt her hand close around mine. I looked up into her bright blue eyes, and saw her gentle smile.
“You’re gonna be okay, hun,” She promised. “You and your team have been running the numbers, right? It’s gonna go just fine!”
I nodded slowly.
“It’s gonna go fine…” I repeated, before she leaned in to kiss me, and gently pulled me by the wrist up onto the deck of the Burger.
She was probably right.
It probably would be fine.
Probably…
The trench I’d be exploring was a fairly recent discovery, located south of Greenland, in a vast stretch of water situated directly between Newfoundland and Iceland. It’d been uncovered during a topological survey in the area, and my team had taken an interest in investigating it further. At minimum, it was believed to descend to about 35,000 feet deep (over 10,000 meters), although the current theory was that it might have run even deeper. Determining the exact depth of the yet unnamed chasm was just one of the intents of our dive. The rest was studying the organisms that might be found down there, and how they might have differed from the ones found in other deep ocean trenches (some variation being expected given the isolated environment they were developing in.)
I had to admit, it would be exciting to see what new life might have developed in a place such as this, especially if it ran even deeper than our predictions… and that excitement was enough to make me chase the fear of the risks out of my mind, even if it was only briefly. While Sheila went to make sure we were ready to embark, I caught myself wandering out toward the rear of the ship where my submarine, The Tempura, waited for me. Did this submarine deserve a better name than The Tempura? Probably. But, this was my project, so I got to name it and since Burger was already taken, Tempura was the next best name I had. I liked to think that the subs namesake might approve… if she hadn’t died fifteen years ago. Shrimp don’t live very long.
As the ship began to depart, I caught myself reminiscing on how I’d ended up here… it really was all because of those damn shrimp, wasn’t it? Well… maybe not all because of the shrimp. But they were certainly part of it. Back when I was a lot younger, I never really gave much of a shit about anything at all. I guess I did have a thing for the ocean… the great, romantic vastness of it. The sense of adventure that it beckoned with. The endless mysteries that lay within its dark depths. I used to read about it all the time when I was a kid and I especially loved the classic adventures: Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and Melville’s Moby Dick… but that love was just confined to my books. I didn’t really have any interest in actually going out and seeing the ocean. Hell, the idea of going to a beach and standing in the sun with my toes in the sand seemed miserable to me. I was happier (although calling myself happy might’ve been a little disingenuous) alone in my room, enjoying the company of books as opposed to people.
Then came the shrimp.
One of my online friends kept them as a hobby. He used to post pictures of his tanks all the time, and I always thought they looked kinda cool. He said that if I was interested in them, I should try keeping some for myself, and during a particularly bad bout of depression, I figured that maybe it might be worth a shot. So, I bought a cheap tank and some cheap decorations, bought myself some shrimp… and promptly watched them die over the next few weeks. That… that bothered me. I don’t know why but… it really bothered me. I’m still not entirely sure how to describe what it was that I was feeling. Guilt? Defeat? Shame? Here I was, trying to set up a habitat for these creatures just to have something to do to keep the suicidal ideation at bay, and I’d failed almost right out of the gate.
Was I just that bad? Was I just that much of a failure? Was this just going to go to shit just like everything else in my life did, because I was just such an abysmal piece of shit who barely deserved the life she had? Had I just not tried hard enough? Was I too apathetic? What had happened? What went wrong?
It bothered me.
It bothered me enough that I made up my mind to just dump the remaining shrimp down the toilet and toss everything. Forget about it. Move on. End of story. But… that wasn’t fair, was it? The shrimp didn’t all deserve to die just because I couldn’t be bothered, did they? Sure, they were just shrimp, but they were alive too, just like me. They deserved to be alive.
I owed it to them to try and keep them alive, didn’t I?
So… I didn’t dump the shrimp.
Instead, I started doing some reading. Started looking into what I was doing wrong and how to do it all better. I actually got really into it and a few months later, I had a nice planted tank. Looking back, it was amateur shit… but it made me happy. I’d even picked out names for my two favorite shrimp. Burger and Tempura. They’d been the last survivors of my original batch, and they were the ones I ended up caring about the most. Caring for Burger and Tempura gave me a purpose. It became an obsession… and that little obsession drove me to finally start turning my life around.
Like I said, shrimp don’t live for very long. Burger and Tempura were long dead by the time I graduated with a degree in Marine Biology. But they were the ones who inspired me to finally get my life in order. Hell, the shrimp were half the reason that I met Sheila. She was something of an aquarium fanatic too… we’d met on a forum, and gotten to talking. I found out that she just so happened to be studying Marine Biology at another school, and we bonded pretty quickly after that. After graduation, I moved to California to be with her and after that, the rest is history. She was my rock. She was the one who always pushed me to be the best possible version of myself… and I loved her more than I ever knew I could love someone.
A glance back at the shore, fading into the distance tore me out of my reminiscing, and I shifted my focus to the present, going over The Tempura to perform some quick checks. My colleagues and I would be checking and rechecking the submarine over the next two days as we made our way toward the dive spot. Considering the danger that descending that deep posed, I didn’t want to take a single unnecessary risk.
I had too much to live for, after all.
***
The day of the dive, I couldn’t notice how excited the rest of the crew seemed… well… Sheila’s usual crew seemed excited. I guess to them, this was just another research expedition, no different than the ones Sheila usually took this ship out on. Lately her research had been focused on the analysis and study of whale calls. Her recent voyages had involved following their pods, recording their calls and playing them back to see how the whales reacted. It was fascinating stuff, but my research was admittedly a lot different than that.
My obsession had drawn me to the denizens of the deep sea. I’d used The Burger for expeditions before, although none of them had been on quite the same scale as this one. Up until today, the most ambitious thing I’d done was send down unmanned submersibles with cameras. Those submersibles had typically returned. We had lost a few early on due to technical glitches, but the past few years had been blissfully uneventful. Logically, this dive would probably be uneventful as well. But it was still hard to get the jitters out of my head.
My team and I did the final checks necessary to make sure that The Tempura was good to go, before setting up the crane to begin lifting it up. In less than an hour, I’d be inside of that thing, descending to the darkest depths of the ocean.
It didn’t feel real.
I felt Sheila’s hand on my shoulder, and looked over at her.
“Moment of truth, huh?” She asked. She probably meant it to sound encouraging, but it just sounded ominous.
“Moment of truth…” I replied.
“You’re gonna be okay, honey. I know you will.”
She reached out to gently squeeze my hand and gave me a reassuring smile that I meekly returned.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be okay,” I agreed, although there was an element of a lie in it. Statistically, yes. It probably WOULD be okay. But there was that lingering anxiety in the back of my mind that just wouldn’t go away. I looked quietly out at the submarine before me and couldn’t shake the thought that it sort of looked like a giant coffin. Unconsciously, I found myself squeezing Sheila’s hand tighter than normal. She just held me close and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, before gently rubbing my back.
“You’ll be okay,” She promised.
“Dr. Jenner, we’re ready for you.” I heard one of my colleagues say.
Moment of truth.
I took one last look at Sheila, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips for luck. She smiled at me, and I smiled back anxiously at her before heading over toward the submarine.
The crew helped me enter the cockpit and get myself situated inside. The cockpit of the Tempura was fairly cramped and not particularly comfortable. Space and comfort aren’t really luxuries you can afford in a submarine like this. The instruments I needed took up a lot of space, leaving little room for me in there… and I am not a very big person.
Once I was inside, they sealed the hatch. Then the diagnostics checks began.
“Grayson, can you hear us in there?” I heard Sheila say through the radio.
“Loud and clear,” I replied.
“Great. We’ll keep in constant radio contact, just to monitor the signal. In the meanwhile, how’s everything looking in there?”
“Green across the board so far,” I said, although I hadn’t finished running all my final checks yet. Ultimately, nothing was out of place.
This submarine was as good to go as it was going to get.
“I’m all good in here,” I said once I was done. “You can drop me when you’re ready.”
“You got it, honey. Let’s get you in the water, run one final round of tests and start lowering you down.”
A short while later, I felt the submarine begin to move as the crane lifted it off the deck and lowered it into the water. The Tempura honestly resembled its namesake in a way, being long and cigar shaped, only vertically oriented instead of horizontally oriented. We’d admittedly taken more than a few design cues from James Cameron’s Deepsea Challenger. Why fix what isn’t broken, after all?
Once I was in the water, a 1000 pound releasable ballast weight would cause the submarine to sink. Releasing that weight was also my ticket back to the surface, and I could either trigger it from inside the cockpit, or, in the event that the release failed for any reason, it would trigger automatically after roughly 12 hours of exposure to salt water.
Ideally, this would be the first of a number of dives I’d be undertaking… and if all went according to plan, the Tempura could be the first of many similar submarines that would allow other researchers to safely and effectively descend to extreme depths. If all went well, this could be a massive leap forward for researchers like me, allowing us to better explore the deepest depths of the Hadal Zone and learn all we could about the ecosystems down there via direct observation.
If all went well.
If.
Through the viewport, I watched as I was lowered into the ocean. A few of the other crew members had donned diving gear to escort me down, and after they did their final checks and I did mine, we were fully ready to go.
“All’s green across the board,” I said into the radio. “You can start my descent.”
“I hear you, honey,” Sheila replied. “We’re letting you go. Have fun down there.”
“Yeah, I’ll try…” I said quietly as finally, my submarine began its descent.
I took a deep breath, and told myself again that everything would go fine. We had checked everything on this submarine. We’d tested it rigorously. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to set foot inside of it if I hadn’t personally assured that it was safe. But anxiety never really goes away, does it? The crew couldn’t accompany me far. After only a few meters, they fell behind me as I sank deeper and deeper into the infinite, empty blue of the ocean. Soon after, the tether was released.
I was officially on my own.
“60 feet,” I heard Sheila say over the radio. “How are you doing in there?”
“Good,” I replied. “Doing… doing good.”
The submarine continued to descend. Through the viewport, I could see a few stray fish, but nothing particularly eye catching. I almost felt alone down there… almost…
“120 feet…” Sheila said.
“Still doing good,” I replied.
The descent continued, as the waters slowly grew darker and darker.
“400 feet…”
Everything around me just kept getting darker and darker. Only a fraction of the light from the sun ever reached these depths… and I’d be lying if I said that darkness didn’t feel a little… oppressive.
“800 feet… still feeling good?”
“Yeah, still feeling good…” I said, although it was a bit of a lie. If anything, I was second guessing all of this, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“1000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…” I murmured. “I hear you loud and clear.”
Deeper… deeper… deeper.
“1500 feet…”
Three miles. I was three miles away from home. Three miles away from Sheila.
“2000 feet…”
Still a ways to go.
“3000 feet…”
By this point, it was fully dark outside of my cockpit. Outside, all I could see was inky darkness. Even the submarine’s lights didn’t really cut through it. And the kicker? Relatively speaking, I wasn’t that deep. Fishing trawlers reached deeper than this. Better to conserve power until I was at the bottom. My descent continued.
“6000 feet… still good?”
“Still good…”
The check ins were becoming less frequent. My descent still continued… deeper… deeper… deeper. By now, I’d entered the Hadal Zone. But there was still so much deeper o go.
“8000 feet…”
This was past the depths that most whales would dive to… and I still had a ways to go.
“10,000 feet.”
This was close to where the ocean floor usually bottomed out… and yet there was still so much further to go. No. I was really only a third of the way there. How long had it been?Not much had happened beyond my descent and a few sightings out of my viewport, but time had been passing. A glance at my watch confirmed it’d been almost an hour since I’d started to sink… and I knew I wasn’t even close to the bottom yet. The submarine continued to descend, sinking ever deeper as I dropped into an infinite darkness that few had ever dared to witness.
“15,000 feet.”
This check in came later than the others. At this point, Sheila and the crew must have figured that no news was good news, and they were right. I just continued to sink peacefully, down into the crushing depths of the ocean.
These were the depths that one might normally find deep sea fish… and yet I was going somewhere even deeper than that.
“20,000 feet…”
So close…
I continued to sink.
“25,000 feet.”
Soon… and finally…
“30,000 feet. You still doing alright, honey?”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m doing good,” I assured her. I was so close…
By this point, my real work had begun. I’d engaged the lights and begun documenting what little I could see using the on board cameras. Granted, there wasn’t much life at these depths and what little there was, was scarcely documented. Most of what was down here consisted of invertebrates and microscopic life that seemed to float past my viewport.
The light seemed to draw a few creatures in search of food. Small, hardy things that resembled shrimp.
“How’s it looking, Grayson?”
“Dark,” I said, half joking. “We’ve got some life… shrimp. They’re translucent. Can’t get a great look at them… but we’ll see what the cameras pick up.”
“They’ve recognized you as a friend,” Sheila said. I could almost see the smile on her lips as she said it.
“Yeah…” I replied, “Tempura sent them a message, told them I’d be down. How am I looking on depth?”
“35,000 feet… you seeing a bottom yet?”
“No… not that I would until I was there.”
“Damn… how deep does this go?”
“It can’t go that deep…” I murmured, although I really wasn’t so sure about that.
The submarine continued to sink…
36,000 feet…
37,000 feet…
38,000 feet… and then finally, just past the 39,000 foot mark, I finally saw solid ground below me.
Looking through my viewport, I could see a familiar dark brown diatomaceous sludge, covering the seafloor. Microscopic life, likely similar to what had been observed in other deep sea trenches, such as the Challenger Deep.
I needed to gather a sample.
As my submarine reached the bottom, I extended the mechanical arms, pressed flat against the surface of the Tempura, and opened the collection port near the bottom of the ship. Slowly, I sifted some of the sludge into the port. My disturbance of the seafloor kicked up a cloud of the microbial colony, and I could’ve sworn I saw something wiggling through the debris. A pale, white thing, perhaps some sort of sea cucumber? I hastily angled my submarines camera to try and catch a glimpse of it, before returning to my collection. Even in this forlorn place, there was still so much to see! And here I was… completely forgetting my fear as the excitement took hold of me! Few people had ever been down to these unfathomable depths… and yet here I was.
It didn’t feel real but it was! I had reached the deepest part of the ocean!
“How’s it going down there?” I heard Sheila ask. Her voice was a little garbled. The connection down here was faltering.
“It’s beautiful…” I said. “I can’t wait for you to see it!”
“I’ll bet…”
“I’m going to do a sweep of the area, see what samples I can gather,” I said. “What’s my time right now?”
“Three hours. You’ve got nine before your connection to the weight deteriorates and you start to ascend.”
“I’ll make the most of it,” I said. The plan was only to stay down there for six hours, and I didn’t want to push that limit. Life support would only last me for so long, and one little error was all it would take for the ungodly pressure down here to crush me.
I began to move the submarine. Mobility was limited. This thing wasn’t built to travel far. But I still had some limited movement. I recorded all that I could, filming the shrimp that investigated my light, and the things that slithered and crawled through the muck, likely feeding on the carpet of single celled organisms that populated these depths.
The first two hours were… well… I hesitate to call them uneventful, they were actually very fascinating, but little of note happened beyond my recording of a few specimens.
Midway through the third hour though, as I was reaching one of the rock walls of the abyss, I noticed something just above the edge of my viewport swimming away from the light. I could’ve sworn I saw slender, pale tentacles of some sort. Was that a squid? Were there squid down this deep? I wasn’t aware of any species of known squid who could reach these depths… but in this unknown place, what use was the known?
I moved my light and my camera to try and catch another glimpse of it, but whatever it was, it seemed to be gone. Maybe I’d see another one. I still had plenty of time.
“You made a noise. What’d you see?” Sheila asked.
“Something big… I think,” I said.
“Down there? Like a fish?”
“Squid. You wouldn’t find any vertebrates down this deep… the pressure would crush their bones.”
“Jeez…”
I didn’t reply to that, still searching for the thing I’d seen. I shone my light up along the walls of the chasm and angled my camera up as far as it would go. I could see a few volcanic vents, spewing dark clouds into the darkness, and more diatoms. But not much else. Strange invertebrates crawled along the walls. Small creatures, no bigger than an inch long. Related to isopods, perhaps? If I could collect one as a sample, I would have… although taking any of those back to the surface would surely kill them. They were built to live under the impossible pressure of these depths. Taking them to the surface would rip them apart.
I went back to my research, and it wasn’t long until I saw something in the darkness, just on the edge of where my flashlight reached. Trailing white tendrils, snaking their way through the darkness. My eyes narrowed as I moved the submarine forward, trying to catch whatever it was in the light. I saw the shape move, its body turning… I saw its tendrils unfurling. Whatever this was, it was big. It was almost as big as The Tempura… although it was also slender. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was looking at some sort of floating debris, but this far down? No. And debris wouldn’t move like that.
This had to be a deepsea squid… or perhaps some other type of cephalopod? Something that preyed upon the various invertebrates down here, perhaps? It seemed to float, just out of sight for a bit, as I tried to get closer. I angled up my light to get a better look at it. The light seemed to shine through it, like some sort of ghost… but I did manage to get a look at it.
Although that look…
That single look made me freeze up.
This things slender tendrils certainly resembled a cephalopod of some sort, but the rest of it… the rest of it looked like something else entirely. Its body was thin, emaciated and translucent, yet despite that it still had characteristics that almost seemed… human. It wasn’t human! Not by any stretch of imagination, but the resemblance was there. It almost reminded me of an exhibit I’d seen in a museum once, depicting a preserved, fully removed human nervous system. I could see a similar shape in its translucent body. Its head seemed almost human as well… albeit with no eyes, and a lamprey like mouth I could only describe as fleshy yet crablike.
Still, despite having no eyes I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was looking at me. And that was when I felt something hit the submarine.
I felt a sudden jolt of panic in my chest. For a moment, I thought that the pressure had started to crush me, but no… no, everything was still fine. Something had just hit me. But what? It didn’t take long before I got my answer.
Another pale creature floated past my viewport, swirling gracefully in the cold dark waters. I watched it for a moment with wide eyes, before noticing its ‘head’ turning slightly toward me. Then, almost instantly, it launched itself at the submarine, darting toward me with blinding speed.
I heard a distinct THUD as its body collided with me, and I could see its pale tendrils pressing against the viewport, twisting and writhing violently. It was trying to attack me. The first creature that I’d seen lunged as well, pounding on my submarine with another THUD. And moments later, I could hear more impacts against the hull. There were more of them… and they did not like having me down there.
“What’s going on?” Sheila asked.
“Somebody doesn’t like me…” I said. “One of the animals down here… some kind of squid, it’s just started attacking the hull.”
“How bad is the damage?”
“Not sure… could be nothing, could be-”
I felt the submarine shake as I tried to move it. The thrusters that pushed me forward weren't responding. Had something gotten caught in it? One of the creatures perhaps?
“Grayson?!” Sheila asked.
“Lost propulsion…” I said. “Fuck… I can’t move.”
“Then drop the weight and come up!”
“No, it’s fine, there’s no other damage, I can still use the port and starboard thrusters to-”
“Grayson!”
I paused. There was genuine panic in her voice… enough to make me realize that even if these things stood little chance of actually breaching the hull, taking the risk would be a fatal mistake.
“I’m on my way up…” I finally said, before reaching out to disengage the ballast weights.
Immediately, I felt myself beginning to rise, although the tentacles clinging to my viewport didn’t disappear.
“We’ve got you…” Sheila said. “Rising up to 38,000 feet.”
The submarine continued to rise, but the creatures clinging to me went nowhere. In fact… I was sure I could see more of them. More pale shapes coming up through the darkness, and these ones filled me with dread. I thought I had been looking at some sort of eerie undiscovered life. But seeing what was coming up toward me now… I knew that I was looking at so much more. The creatures swimming up toward me through the darkness carried weapons… makeshift stone spears and daggers. Primitive tools… but tools all the same.
Signs that these were more than just undiscovered animals.
Much. Much more.
The word: ‘Mermaids’ crossed through my mind, but these were something far different than the ones I’d heard of in folklore. These looked like they’d swam out of the depths of hell itself. Boneless pale tendrils reached for me… and they were getting closer. The pale shapes reached my submarine as I rose higher. I kept praying to whatever God may be listening that the dropping pressure would force them off. The air in a submarine is pressurized, so during normal operation, there should have been no danger of decompression sickness for me.
For them… well… normally I’d feel a little guilty about subjecting an undiscovered species of deep sea mermaids to the horrors of the Bends. But given my circumstances, I didn’t have a lot of other options.
They didn’t let go, though.
They should have. But they didn’t.
What were these things?
I saw a splayed hand press against my viewport. Or… it somewhat resembled a hand. It had suckers on it, like a tentacle and the ‘fingers’ curled open like tentacles. The creature crawled over my viewport, clinging to The Tempura as it rose, and I could see the folds of its crablike mouth opening and pressing against the glass. I could see some sort of bile rising up through its translucent throat, before it secreted it all over my viewport. Was it trying to digest me? Was that how these things fed? How strong were its stomach acids? Were they strong enough to-
The window cracked.
My heart skipped a beat.
“No… no, no no…”
“Grayson, what’s wrong?!”
“They cracked the window… S-Sheila they… oh God… oh fuck, they just…”
“THEY DID WHAT?”
“It’s secreting some sort of enzyme… it’s on the window, it’s… FUCK… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die…”
“You’re not gonna die, baby! Just… just keep ascending, okay? You’re at 30,000 feet… just keep going…”
I nodded, and kept on rising, although the question of whether or not the rest of the creatures were trying to digest the other parts of my submarine floated through my mind. How much damage could The Tempura take before it imploded? How much longer did I have? The submarine still continued to rise… 25,000 feet… almost halfway home… almost… almost.
The creature outside of my viewport slithered along the glass, searching for a better area to try and digest. Past him, I noticed a few of his companions dropping off. Maybe the change in pressure finally was getting to them?
From the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed a flashing light. A warning. The hydraulics on one of the Tempura’s arms were shot… what else was damaged?
I checked my oxygen levels. 32%.
I should’ve had at least 14 hours of air. I’d only been down there for about 6 hours… I shouldn’t have been this low.
31%.
No… no, no, no, no… they’d damaged the air tanks!
30%.
29%
“20,000 feet!” Sheila said. “You still with me, baby?”
“Y-yeah…” I said. I didn’t mention my air situation. I didn’t need to worry her further.
The submarine continued its ascent.
15,000 feet.
24%. I was running out of time.
The creatures still clung to the Tempura. How had the pressure change not killed them yet? My oxygen was dropping faster than before. I was hemorrhaging air. Another crack formed across my viewport. I let out a little, involuntary gasp before trying to force myself to stop hyperventilating.
“Grayson, what was that?”
“I-it’s fine…” I stammered, “It’s fine!”
“Grayson what the hell is going on down there?!”
“They’re still on the submarine… they’re still…” I paused, looking at my oxygen levels. “19%...”
“19% of what? Grayson what’s going on!”
I paused.
18%.
“Air… I’m… I’m losing air…”
“That’s fine, you’re going to make it!” She said, although I heard her voice cracking a little. “You’re gonna make it!”
I didn’t answer.
12,000 feet.
11,000 feet…
My oxygen level continued to drop.
15%.
14%.
12%.
9,000 feet.
The creatures still clung to me, as the submarine continued to rise. The one on my viewport was still there, slowly crawling along the glass again. I stared into its eyeless face and swore I was looking at the face of my killer.
7,000 feet…
Oxygen had dropped to 9%. It dropped to 8% before I even got to 6,000 feet. I was going to die here…
The viewport cracked again and I squeezed my eyes shut. The submarine rocked. I was sure one of the thrusters had been damaged. My ascent slowed.
“Grayson, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry Sheila…”
Another crack spread across my viewport.
“I’m… I’m not making it back up…”
“YES YOU ARE!”
“I’m sorry…” The tears started to come as the reality of my death became clearer and clearer… this was it.
“YOU’RE COMING BACK UP, YOU HEAR ME! GODDAMNIT, I’LL BRING YOU BACK UP!”
“I love you…”
That creatures face pressed against the glass. It vomited more of its stomach acid onto the cracked glass, and I wondered if this might finally be what broke it. Part of me hoped it would be… the one good thing about dying this deep was that at least I’d die quickly. My suffering would be over. Then, the creature suddenly pulled back, twisting and writhing violently. I saw other shapes moving past it in the water, other ‘mermaids’ that had been clinging to the submarine.
Something was agitating them.
Something was scaring them off.
Then I heard it, over the radio… whale songs.
“What the hell…?”
“Grayson, are you still there?!”
“I… they’re finally breaking off. Sheila, what did you do?”
“I’m broadcasting some of the orca recordings we’ve been using. Are they still clinging to you?”
“No! They’re backing off! I… whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
The submarine kept rising.
5,000 feet.
4,000 feet.
4% oxygen.
I could still do this, right?
The submarine continued to rise.
3%.
3,000 feet.
2,000 feet.
2%.
1,000 feet… so close… I was so close…
I could almost see the surface through my viewport, rushing up toward me. I tried not to breathe. Tried not to move. All I did was hope.
500 feet.
I closed my eyes.
“Grayson we have your signal, we’re coming to pick you up!”
Sheila’s voice sounded so far away as my submarine finally breached the surface of the water… and with the last of my strength, I pulled the emergency release on the hatch, and threw it open, taking in lungful after lungful of fresh salty air.
I didn’t dare so much as touch the water beneath me… but I was topside again, and in the distance, I could see The Burger!
“We see you!” Sheila said, “We’ve got you baby… we’ve got you…”
“I see you too…” I said through the tears. “Thank you… thank you…” I didn’t have any words left in me after that.
As soon as I was back on the ship, I collapsed into Sheila’s arms, breaking down into tears as I clung to her, terrified that at any moment, some sort of unspoken other shoe would drop and I’d lose her all over again.
“Shh… it’s alright baby… I’ve got you… you’re safe… you’re safe…” I felt her fingers running through my air and I knew that what she said was true.
I was home.
I was safe.
***
I left my colleagues to review the data that the Tempura gathered during its short expedition. As far as I know, they haven’t published anything. I have a few ideas as to why, but I’ll keep those to myself. Let’s just say that some people would rather this information not become public.
I have a feeling that the Tempura may not be diving again for some time, if ever. I will confess that I do consider that a bit of a shame. Despite everything… I would consider it a success. It endured far more stressful conditions than I had expected, and from what I heard, required fewer repairs than I’d thought it would. But, even if it was approved for another dive, it wouldn’t be me piloting it. No. I will never be setting foot inside of that machine again, nor will I ever be returning to what my colleagues have been quietly referring to as ‘The Jenner Trench’.
I can’t.
Every night, I wake up crying after dreaming of pale shapes outside of my cracked viewport, clinging to Sheila and sobbing. I can’t put myself in that situation again.
I can’t.
Instead, I think I’m going to spend the next few years on solid ground. There’s a teaching position available at a local university. I think that might be the best place for me right now. Who knows, maybe I can help some other deadbeat discover a passion for marine biology.
After everything, my love for the sea remains unchanged… I’m just a little more wary of it, these days.

My department just issued me new Blauer boots, I'm 10.5 wide so that's what I got. These things are cutting off my circulation! I can wiggle my toes but the top of my feet and up is very uncomfortable and it's way past snug. What's going on here?
Rift 8" waterproof style#FW038WP

Idk if anyone else if having the same problem, but I am having the most AWFUL time finding a pair of genuinely high waisted straight leg jeans that do not give me the dreaded camel toe. I do not have the same issue with skinny jeans or wide leg pants...maybe I'm just not built for them. Idk! Any luck? Anyone relate?

So I recently started a job where I’m walking/on my feet like crazy for about 8 hours. I got a pair of steel toe blundstones since I love my regular ones and needed something durable. I’ve worn them every shift for about 2 weeks and the soles of my feet ACHE mid way through and after work. Like unreal pain that I’ve never experienced with my other blundstones. I tried adding the second insole they include, and I’ve tried arch support insoles as well. Has anyone else experienced this? I keep hoping they’ll work out because they’re the perfect boot for my job but I can’t deal with the pain. Help!

~Neptori~
A party was indeed hosted, set up to surround the burning mass of grass that the second creature had been hidden inside, the two severed heads spiked on massive rose thorns high above the half acre of angry flame were eyeless and toothless. Trophies for the queen’s pet Faeries and Fairies.
Tori was half certain she had seen a demon amongst the deadly, fake-friendly, party goers. His eyes didn’t just reflect the fire, they were made from fire. Sparks flew and skittered over his high cheekbones as they made eye contact in passing. A chill went down her spine, a warning and a threat.
She followed quickly after the queen, her gown had been replaced with a shorter gown resembling a white iris flower, the shoes of course matching to look like the stem. High, high heels that didn’t even touch the ground. They hovered over the ground as she fluttered her wings to stay just above her people. A subtle band of wild roses sat on her brow, Neptori only wondered about the thorns and how a flower could be so pale and yet so brightly yellow. Fluffy and tiny, the roses faintly resembled the clouds as the sun fell to make way for darkness in night.
Someone, at some point, had made sunflowers grow twice as tall as they were. They lined the main scenes of the party, their strong, velvety leaves bore golden, burning lanterns. An ashy pink smoke filtered flower shaped holes in the circular… those weren’t lanterns- fairies were nocturnal! Those were burning herbs, were they to keep predators away from the party or to heighten the pixie magic warping the sizes of everything. She took a light whiff taking in the earthy smell, the note of citrine and then the smell of honey fresh from a beehive… she suddenly felt very light. Shaking her head to shake the feeling, she finally caught up to the queen's side. Wings would have been entirely advantageous in this situation, Tori would have to do with waiting till the queen had settled on her throne at hearing distance.
Around and around the party they went, Tori being shown off like a prized pony. The queen didn’t seem to be too hated by her people, it was strange that she had said so earlier. Neptori pinched her brow trying to keep her thoughts from derailing. No, play by her rules and she will have to let Tori go. That’s what she would have to do. So around and around she went some more. Fairies drenched her in new garments. As they were the fashion capital of the realm, they were exceedingly horrified by a poor woman’s rags. Neptori accepted their gifts, too afraid to offend to deny the strange things they put on her. Her coat had been torn from her at some point, her trousers had been replaced with a purple petticoat and a pink pearl corset. Her boots were gone and her feet cried out in pain as she felt the dirt and clovers underfoot. As her toes dug into the soft heaven that was nature. A giggle escaped her, a scraggly cry really. It hurt but it was amazing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken her boots off. Her smell was ripe and rank but she didn’t care, her toes weren’t cramped up!
she turned to see if the queen could see- but there was nobody. Just an empty field and those burning herbs finally burning up. The smoke was so thin it fell in scraggly whisps. The morning air seemed too crisp and clean and untamed. She burst into a sprint down the path of trampled grasses. Strange flowers and shrubs had grown underfoot but they were walked all over by what must’ve been an enormous crowd. Then a light, brighter than the awakening blue overhead, the sun. The first rays yawned over the land, sending a golden and blue contrast into the world. She had never felt so at peace. So at one with her surroundings. Her face was numb and cold with it, or maybe the reverse but she was only paying attention to the awakening surrounding her.
The bees and birds and the fairies… everyone began to stir awake as slowly as if time was blinking awake with them. She just stared with watering eyes, taking in the magic that thickened in the air. The scent of apple blossoms washing over her as the land was engulfed in golden hues of every color. Then it was green. The sky was alive with fluffy white clouds, scattered across that simple barrier of blue. It was all so beautiful and it thrummed around her, in her veins it pulsed.
Everything just felt so right, then a shadow fell around her. She turned her surely very glassy eyes to find the queen standing a wreck before her. “There you are pet.” She said with a crooked grin. Her eyes were bright red and brought out the earthy green hues within her irises. Her iris party dress was limp and her band of fluffy yellow roses was gone.
“Wha- “What happened?” Neptori cried out as her knees came crashing down to the dirt and rocks and ashes and… what had happened? “Your very first fairy party it seems.” She waved a hand and the perfect scene made way for the glowing petal walls of the fairy palace.

So I made this comment to another person's post recently about her feeling annoyed at the teachestudent relationship in Maxton Hall and that it wasn't being properly addressed as toxic. I agree. But that's hardly my only issue with the show. Because a lot of really young people are into these genres, I feel the need to address these points as someone who's actually lived the Ruby/James storyline, different ways and multiple times. A veteran, one might say. You can take my statements as a grain of salt, or whatever you like, but may those who have ears listen:
Spoilers throughout if someone hasn't finished the season:
This is the thing...I actually find the lead actors cute and super talented even despite this being a genre that I find deplorably predictable and drab. I actually only got invested to improve my German, sadly now I'm actually invested in the characters at this point despite me seeing everything that's going to happen a mile away, because a lot of these writers who may actually be creative but stifle it for the sake of hashing out another "proven to make money" storyline that has been recreated time and time again. Yes, the teachestudent situation is problematic not because they're both consenting individuals who or of age, but because apparently they knew each long before which hints that she would've most likely have been a minor when the relationship took form. Maybe people who have read the books can shed better light on the matter.
Beyond that, my biggest issue with these common bad boy meets good girl trope shows beyond how oversaturated the romance world is with these stories (damn, not even a reversal like good boy meets bad girl), is the very negative expectations they put on real girls out there. These stories fuel the idea that they "can fix him" and even those overly toxic traits he possesses should be downplayed in some way, and even the slightest redeemable qualities he shows should be made out as holy. This is one of the large reasons I hate this genre. For example, despite James's slight transition in S1 (and yes, I'm fully aware that he will most likely continue to change for the better in some ways), to say I think Ruby deserves better is an understatement. Women/girls keep fawning over the swimming pool scene where he saves Ruby, but I was honestly pissed at him for this whole catastrophic scenario and how it unfolded. Firstly, he invited her to this godforsaken hive of scum and villainy of a party despite him knowing full well this is not normally her scene, ignores Ruby's actualized fears of pupils teasing hedisliking her for being with James, and gives her an invitation into the lion's den thinking she'll come out unscathed? For someone who hints at himself having an impressive GPA, I'm not impressed by his lack of logical deduction. When viewed from this perspective, the blame of Ruby getting pushed into the pool and being triggered into a panic attack that nearly got her drowned largely rests on James's shoulders, especially as one of the sole people at that party claiming to "care" about her. Despite this, no open moment from James of reflection of responsibility for what took place there and nothing even remotely resembling an apology not even the following morning of the incident, but rather even gave off the impression that it wasn't even that big of a deal. He sent a text asking if she was doing better (not even the first text the following morning, mind you), and that was the end of that. Not a question or care more before a slew of flirting between the two. Of course, at that point Ruby is already infatuated with him, so it makes little difference. But to someone from the outside looking in, the selfishness and ambivalence is glaringly obvious.
It's an ongoing theme in S1 that apparently getting apologies out of James is like pulling teeth (another highly toxic masculinity trait that we need to stop treating with humor or something "enduring" when interest is involved). I believe I counted him saying it only twice in the last episodes and it was always backed by some sort of excuse "but I did it because I was embarrassed by my parents...sorry, but I can't...my father...etc." In reality he's been needing to give proper apologies since the show began, but the moment he finally formulates the words, it's always accompanied by some excuse? Immaturity. What was the topper on the cake for me and an ultimate red flag (yes, yes...it's fantasy, a show...but in real life, run for the hills), he continues to take decisions that should normally involve both of them, into his own hands and gravely gauging her whims wrongly in these situations. First with the poster of them, then again ending the relationship in order to "protect" her. He's very creative at finding solutions when it's getting back at Ruby for things in the beginning, but now he's just willing to throw in the towel anytime he has to fight for their relationship? Again questioning his logical capabilities and even his intentions at this point. Perhaps it's actually just rooted in him being afraid of commitment after a life of whoring himself out to hush people up or a slew of one night stands which has left him detached? If not, as I suspect it isn't, a form of self-sabotage due to his father's hold on him. I know it's most likely the latter, and as relatable and sad as that may be, this is catastrophic and needs therapy to get resolved. Rose-tinted romance isn't going to fix that (trust me, speaking from experience, girlies). And to make matters worse, I can read the handwriting on the wall from the last episode ending, that James is liable to take matters into his own hands again and hurt Ruby because he keeps trying to decide what HE thinks is best for HER life. I'm not a teen or in my early twenties watching this show, so I tend to view these from a mother hen type of perspective. If you see a guy like James Beaufort, it might be entertaining on TV or film, but in REAL life, run for the hills unless you have written proof he's attending therapy and counselling for his issues and start seeing a difference. My interest in the show is starting to wane after already guessing (like most things in this show and others of its genre) what's coming next season...such as James getting cold feet, taking executive control of their relationship again and bailing...very sure. I don't even need to read the books for that. I've lived this, girlies.
Hopefully, the writers exceed my expectations and do something unexpected. As I said in another post, it wouldn't be the most drastic of plot twists, but make the chauffeur the old flame James's mother was alluded to and have James secretly be his kid, which would give light on why he acts like a father figure (or at least the closest positive one James has) and his passionate defense of James. That would maybe keep me invested and one my toes knowing there are actually all these secrets being unraveled. Okay, anyway, that's my rant on this. That was waaay too long. Bye.

I don’t think I’ve ever found bottoms that hit me in the right spot. Too high and I look like Steve Urkel, but too mid rise-low rise and it just doesn’t look proportional. I also have the issue of everything wanting to ride up to my hips and so I get camel toe in almost anything I try so I’m constantly pulling them down and fussing with them, don’t even get me started on shorts they are even worse. What works for you?

Hi everyone, I’m (22F) at a loss here. Three years ago my left big toe went through trauma to the point where the whole nail needed to be taken out. Ever since then, my nail grew back with fungus, and I can’t seem to get rid of it. It spread to my other big toe. My nail detached from the nail bed so it is basically just hanging on by the base. I just cut my nail down to the base in hopes that it will grow back to normal. Right now I am looking at a dark yellow nail bed. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried over the counter fungus treatments, waiting till my feet are super dry until putting socks on, and using baby powder to get rid of moisture when I wear close toed shoes. Every single time I cut my nail to the base, it still grows back detached from my nail bed. When it gets too long, and I stub my toe, I am afraid the nail go through a trauma. How can I make it grow normal?

I thought this might be fun. I am a surgical podiatrist who is finishing up his 1st year out in practice. I have been involved in or performed around 1000 surgeries at this point. My job unfortunately does not make for good dinner conversation but I have seen things most people wouldn't believe. I am happy to answer any questions!

My mom now has massive camel toe all the time!
I'm considering it but so fearful of what she's going to be like?? Has anyone else had a cry over it?

Looking for some advice :) I’m an adult skater. I’ve been skating in a pair of elementary Riedell skates for a few years now, its starting to feel way to roomy (I feel my toes can wiggle around) so I want to switch to a more fitting intermediate skates. I got a pair of used Edea chorus skates to try and wow I instantly feel the heel is slot higher! My feet feels like it’s sliding into the toe box (?) constantly and the toe area feels really squeezed. To be fair, it’s (240B) slightly smaller than my measured size (245B), so that could be a problem. But I also worry that it’s an Edea thing. Thanks!

20(M4F) white guy from South Africa trying new things up for long distance or close
Hi Im J(Name and Pic upon request) I'm 20 years old from South Africa, I'm 5'11 feet or 6 feet tall, chestnut hair, brown eyes and looking for someone after 4 year of not dating anyone or even trying.It might sound like im desperate but believe me I'm not i just felt like dipping my toes back in to see if anyone is intrested.
My hobbies consist of watching F1 and Anime, Gaming with my friends or could even game with you,Go karting Races and s0ending time with ny family.I do love hard and I'm searching for a serious relationship and not a casual chat... I'm still up for casual chats btw.
As for the person intrested in me. I prefer my woman between 19-40 older is fine its your choice, i don't care about body as I'm a person attracted to the soul and face of a person I'd want to spend my life with. PM me if your intrested.