#displacement hull

[ranticore]

aerated water and extremely stratified standing water on Siren

image: a pelagic phocid trapped under a flow of aerated water, unable to reach the surface to breathe

I had to whip up a picture REALLY quick because this is text heavy and it turned out nice :) not so nice for this guy but hey. I'm going to talk about the deadliest natural phenomenon on Siren.

First things first some basic Earth limnology, if there are no tides and the wind is not blowing, standing water doesn't move. Water which is not mixed by either a current, wind, or a tide, or some other mixing factor, will stratify. It separates into layers. There'll usually be an oxygenated layer on top and an anoxic layer underneath, which can only be inhabited by certain extremophiles adapted to low or no oxygen conditions.

This is the normal way of things on Siren when the tides aren't moving; the ridges of land formed by glaciation that break up the sea are effective wind barriers and mixing is minimal. It doesn't make a difference to phocids and selkies because these people are air-breathing; in fact this stratification is why all attempts at a human with gills never really made it off the drawing board, they would be less suited to live in this water than an air breathing human. The sea never gets that deep on most of the planet's surface.

Vents in the sea floor are usually inactive or minimally active, letting out thin streams of gas (same as what makes up the atmosphere; oxygen, nitrogen, etc). However occasionally, an earthquake or other geological event will cause a vent to force out what lies beneath the crust; aerated water. Aerated water is low-density water. It's used in wastewater treatment plants on Earth right now. And if you fall in, you can't swim. You go straight through it. (These treatment plants have mechanisms to detect anything entering the water, and a mobile floor will rise up to lift you out of the water)

Aerated water on Siren is known by a variety of ominous regional names as it's pretty universally feared by sea people. In the stratified water, the aerated layer sits on top of the normal oxygenated later, creating an interface where the less dense water sits on top of the denser water. In particularly rapid flows of aerated water, it can form thick currents on the surface which do not disperse for days or even weeks at a time, and they can be so large and so sudden that entire villages could be wiped out instantly. You can't swim through aerated water, so you become trapped underneath it. You can't see the interface easily from below, so it's hard to judge its edges, it's hard to see how far it stretches. At best, you might have just taken a breath and you'll have 30 minutes to find the edge of the flow, but what if you swim in the wrong direction? What results, if people are particularly unlucky, is a mass drowning event of all air-breathing creatures in the area.

The flow usually starts in a linear shape and if it encounters open water with no land ridges, it will slowly begin to spread into a roughly round shape, getting thinner and thinner as it widens out until the layer is too thin to pose any risk. The gas discharge into the normal water can be significant and provides a nice boost for the oxygenated layer. Pelagic people have to be alert for this danger and have drilled responses and emergency flotation devices at their villages, just in case (in fact they make their own underwater hot air balloons to quickly rise to the surface using lighter than air flight)

It's not just aquatic people who are at risk. Flying people who might think to land on the sea to rest in the middle of a long journey risk landing on an aerated flow that won't support them, causing them to sink immediately. Ships with the correct displacing hulls and hydrofoil arms that penetrate to the layer of normal water can traverse aerated flows, but rafts and canoes, used by most of the population, are in danger of vanishing below the surface. Most modern whaling vessels are hydrofoils.

The final effect of the flow is incredibly rare but it has happened enough to provide fuel for superstitious rumours about flying phocids and selkies; if you're directly above the vent when the aerated water explodes out, you will be airborne very quickly and also concussed and/or dead from bludgeoning damage.

The first recorded death from aerated water occurred during year 16, when a settler human unwittingly piped a swimming pool's worth of it into a test chamber. the beta phocid test subject, Ambla, was supposed to be doing some basic aquatic locomotion studies. they were taken completely by surprise and died before the pool could be drained to save them (beta phocid lung capacity was not impressive). Ambla was the first recorded death of a genetically modified human (technically the second, but the first failed to be born and died in the deep dream so was never really alive) and initially the lab workers blamed a malfunctioning pressure generator, thinking that it had somehow increased the weight of water on Ambla and pinned them. The other beta phocids were distraught, in retribution began a campaign to sabotage the pressure pumps and other atmospheric systems at the settlement so that nobody else would die in such a manner. It was their first act of rebellion.

#setting: siren #my favouriteee bit of worldbuilding here lol

[ltwilliammowett]

Door no. 16 and today a very old lady shows up - but please do not believe that she is harmless. Her name "Old Ironside" is not without reason. I think you know who you have here - of course it's USS Constitution

USS Constitution, photo by Petty Officer 3rd Class Skyler Okerman, 2022

A few more infos about her:

Constitution, warship renowned in American history. One of the first frigates built for the U.S. Navy, she was launched in Boston, Massachusetts, on October 21, 1797; she is the world’s oldest commissioned warship afloat. (The HMS Victory is older (1765) but is preserved in a drydock at Portsmouth, England.)

The Constitution’s overall length is 204 feet (62 metres), its displacement is 2,200 tons, and its gun range is 1,200 yards (1,100 metres). The bolts fastening its timbers and copper sheathing on the bottom were made by the silversmith and patriot Paul Revere. Rated as a 44-gun frigate, it ordinarily carried more than 50 guns and a crew of some 450. Original cost of the vessel exceeded $300,000, including guns and equipment. In the successful war against the Tripoli pirates (1801–05), the Constitution was Commodore Edward Preble’s flagship, and the treaty of peace was signed aboard it. During the War of 1812 it achieved an enduring place in American naval tradition. On August 19, 1812, commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, it won a brilliant victory over the British frigate Guerriere. Tradition has it that during this encounter the American sailors, on seeing British shot failing to penetrate the oak sides of their ship, dubbed it “Old Ironsides.” Several other victories added to its fame. When in 1830 the ship was condemned as unseaworthy and recommended for breaking up, public sentiment was aroused by Oliver Wendell Holmes’s poem “Old Ironsides.”

The ship was preserved, its rebuilding was provided for in 1833, and in 1844 it began a circumnavigation of the globe. The Constitution was removed from active service in 1882, and in 1905 it was opened to the public in Boston Harbor. After a restoration (1927–31) the ship was recommissioned; although it did not sail under its own power, it called at 90 American ports on both coasts and was visited by more than 4.5 million people. Since 1934 it has been based at the Charlestown Navy Yard (now part of the Boston National Historic Park).

In celebration of its bicentennial, the newly renovated Constitution sailed again in July 1997. It also sailed in August 2012 to mark the 200th anniversary of its victory over the Guerriere during the War of 1812.

#naval history #naval artifacts #uss constitution #18th century #19th century #age of sail #advent calendar #day 16

[thepenultimateword]

Mermaids and Mermen

Happy Mermay!

1. Scientist works at a rehabilitation facility for injured cryptids and creatures. They’re newest addition to the family is a mer, something they’ve never seen at the facility before.

2. The Pirate Captain has always seen mers as pests. If they’re not trying to drown his men, they’re damaging the ship’s hull or throwing them off course. His policy has always been cannon fire or harpoons, but everything changes when he’s is forced overboard by a mutinous crew in the middle of pod of mermaid.

3. Merperson has made a life for themself as a human in the west, far away from the sea that holds the secret of their true form. But when a potion shipment involving sea water prompts them to transform, they must do their best to conceal the truth from the wild west’s many cutthroats and opportunists while searching for a new spell to get their legs back.

4. It’s a royal alliance like any other, a prince and princess arranged in marriage for the peace and good of their kingdoms. Except one is a human and the other a merperson. As the Mer is the heir to the throne, it’s obvious it should be the human who moves to their kingdom. Underwater. The mers assure them that it’s an entirely possible though admittedly painful transformation process.

5. Mer is the property of an underground fighting ring where different sea creatures are pitted against each other for the gambling amusement of the pirates and fisherman that come into port. Mer has become hardened and savage, never hesitating to tear someone or something apart before they get torn apart first. But when a fresh mer is captured, Mer recognizes them, and they’ll do anything to protect them.

6. Mer is the property of an underground fighting ring where different sea creatures are pitted against each other for the gambling amusement of the pirates and fisherman that come into port. Though they’ve become hardened and savage, they have also grown close to one of their competitors. Though they’re forced to fight often, they tend to each others wounds outside the ring and pray their handlers never realize they’re pulling their punches.

7. The villain tries to feed the hero to the captive carnivorous mers swimming beneath their floors. Joke’s on them though, because one of these mers is the hero’s long lost lover and they’ve been looking for them everywhere.

8. When their parents were hunted and killed, a whale type mermaid is adopted by regular mermaids as a baby. Despite the massive—pun intended—accommodations made to shelter them, their adopted family has always been determined to make sure they are loved and taken care of. But that doesn’t stop Mer from having problems with other mers or from wondering about their own kind.

9. A carnivorous mer and a herbivore mer are captured and sold to a collector. Despite their differing instincts and backgrounds, they must rely on each other to find freedom.

10. A mer from the deep sea is washed ashore in a small fishing village. Though their unconventional appearance makes them abhorrent to many of the townspeople, a visiting scholar takes the displaced mer into their home and offers them kindness, as well as a few hundred questions.

#I haven’t done anything for mermay yet #I had to #mermay #mermaid prompt #pirate x mermaid #mermaid x fisherman #mermaid x human #pirate x merman #merman #prompt #short prompt #prompt list #pen’s prompts #writblr #also I swear you can make anything an arranged marriage royalty fic

[drunkenskunk]

Meanwhile, somewhere on Hell's Gate...

A a hiss of displaced gas preceded a hatch swinging open, and an extremely inebriated redhead stumbled her way across the threshold and into the Hell's Gate mech bay. Scarlet, ostensibly part of the militia and one of five mech pilots on the “Strategic Response Team,” had spent the last several hours attempting to drink herself into oblivion. The rest of the team had been celebrating a successful operation at GMS_Generic_Bar, getting round after round from Bartender Motherfucker, and they were entirely right to do so: the SRT's first time out wasn't just a victory, it was a complete walkover. The moonlighter pirates trying to make a quick buck from the “unarmed freighter” had no idea what hit them.

By all rights, Scarlet should've been celebrating with the rest... but she didn't really feel like it. While everyone in the bar had been busy watching Agarin show off his karaoke skills, she had quietly slipped away while no one was looking. For the last hour or so, she had been nursing a particularly large bottle of razbo – some Ol' Smokey's Reserve – and eventually wandered her way into the station's mech bay.

The bay was eerily silent and still. Usually, the place was buzzing with technicians running around, doing some kind of maintenance of some sort or another, but... no. No one else was here. Even Calamity Havok was nowhere to be seen, which was extremely odd. Scarlet had never seen the retired Hell Hound anywhere else on the station, and just assumed she lived here.

She downed another slug of raspberry infused liquor and staggered over to the alcove where her mech was currently housed: a truly ancient GMS Everest, covered in dozens of shades of red paint, hand-lettered slogans, and artwork designed to cover up the myriad scars and bullet wounds from centuries of combat. The mech had been built, stripped down, and rebuilt so many times over the years that it possessed a very haphazard quality to all of it; it was the kind of machine where you could pick any panel at random, open it up, and see more splices than wires. It had an “official” name (at least as far as anything on Calliope could be said to have one of those) registered in some file somewhere that she always assumed was a pun based on its serial number: R4GE MACHINE. But thanks to the paint job, everyone just called it Big Red.

The mech stood immobile, surrounded by a mess of cabling, powered-down diagnostic systems, and catwalks to give the technicians access. She stared up at the machine, her gaze drawn to the wedge-shaped “head,” and the distinctive spiderweb of cracks radiating out from around the left optical unit. She grumbled in frustration, taking another drink.

Scarlet kept thinking about the operation against the pirates from earlier. During the fight, she'd tried to disable the pirate ship the moonlighters had arrived on by attaching a HEX-B explosive mine to the ship's cockpit, but it hadn't gone exactly to plan. Right as she armed it, the mech controls briefly became unresponsive, and instead of attaching to the enemy ship, the electromagnets kicked in and firmly attached the mine... to her own torso.

It didn't matter that the ship was disabled immediately after her blunder: when the ship tried to disengage, she felt a tug at her cranial socket, and Big Red plunged the heavy combat blade it carried directly into the enemy cockpit. The whole front end of the ship had practically exploded, both from the impact and the sudden depressurization.

It didn't matter, because after the smoke had cleared, everyone could see the armed mine still attached to her mech. It had been removed after the fight, of course, but the carbon scoring on the hull of Big Red was still visible for everyone to see. Her teammates had given her shit for it the entire flight back to Hell's Gate. And rightfully so, far as she was concerned. A phrase had been swimming around in her head, ever since the fighting had stopped. They were words that had haunted her for the better part of a decade:

You're not good enough.

“Why y'gotta emb'rass me like that, huh?” she slurred. Scarlet stood there, staring up at her mech with drink in hand, and downed another slug.

A noise began to echo in the otherwise silent mech bay. It was a low, persistent clicking, almost like a purring animal, steadily growing in volume. Scarlet recognized the noise immediately. It was one of Big Red's many peculiar quirks; every so often, it would just start clicking like that, and nobody knew why, because nobody could find a source of the noise, no matter how hard they tried. When Calamity had tried to fix it, she said it sounded like a damaged hard drive moments away from catastrophic, unrecoverable failure... but even her considerable talents were at a loss.

Scarlet snorted and began to shake her head. Why'd she even come here? She didn't know. She sighed heavily and started to walk away...

“Because you are holding Us back.”

The words echoed in the empty mech bay, and seemed to hang in the air above her head. Scarlet stopped immediately, and her blood ran ice cold. She'd never heard that voice before. It was synthesized, utterly inhuman, and spoke the words with a curious inflection. The mechanical purr had grown louder, turning into an angry growl. Very slowly, Scarlet turned back around to face Big Red.

A trio of glowing red pinpricks stared at her from inside the darkened crack in its metal wedge of a head. The mech was very clearly looking down, directly at her.

“You tried to be clever,” the voice bellowed from speakers buried somewhere in his chassis. “So We taught you a lesson.”

The war machine – which should have been completely cold and powered down – began to shudder in the harness keeping it tethered in the maintenance alcove. It was as if the mech was a wild animal, caged against its will, struggling to break free of the restraints shackling it so. Metal hands balled into fists, and everything in the bay seemed to shake.

“We are not a tool,” it continued, as Scarlet remained rooted in place, staring at the machine in bewilderment and terror. “We are a weapon. You need to act like it. You must never forget what We are.”

The cables, pistons, and servos connecting the wedge-shaped head to the torso should've looked like a neck... but it didn't. From where Scarlet was standing, it looked like Big Red was grinning: a wide rictus grin, with teeth that weren't teeth made of metal, and sharp as kitchen knives. The machine continued to stare at her, left optical unit glowing with malice, and metal not-teeth glinting in the dim light of the mech bay.

“Do not deny Us our purpose again.”

Scarlet gulped hard to try and steady her breathing; she really hadn't been prepared for this at all, and wasn't doing the best job of disguising her terror. She looked down, and began to vigorously rub her eyes with her free hand, shaking her head. She could barely hear anything with so much blood pounding in her ears. This wasn't real, it couldn't be real...

She gulped once again, and looked up.

The noise had stopped. The clicking had stopped. The mech was looking straight ahead, and its metal hands were no longer balled into fists. Everything in the mech bay was exactly like it was when she'd first arrived: completely silent and still.

Scarlet looked around with wide eyes, uncertain of anything. She looked down at the empty bottle of razbo in her hand. She looked back up at her mech, still and cold as the metal plates beneath her feet.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left as quickly as she could. She grabbed the edge of the pressure door, and pulled it shut behind her.

But just before the seal around the hatch could engage, that same clicking started up once more...

#Lancer RPG #Lancer #In Golden Flame #Hells Gate #GMS Everest #short fiction

[toasterdrake]

aaaaa ok i really hope im not bothering you bc i'm requesting two times in a row, but can i have another yelena oneshot with some hurt/comfort? maybe r gets a life-threatening injury and yel mother-hens r back to health? if that's too specific you can do whatever you want for the 'hurt' part of hurt/comfort

my friend, the day has finally arrived. this beast has sat in my drafts for many many months -- years, even, i think? -- and i have finally accepted i'm never going to finish it. i went suuuper off-script so i've condensed it into just this block before things go haywire. other than that, this is entirely unedited as i last left it, notes and gaps and all. i hope the rest of it (of which there is too much) never again sees the light of day.

if i can even say this any more, enjoy. with this, my time in the mcu fandom truly comes to an end.

Angel

Yelena Belova x Avenger!reader

word count: 4K

Engine malfunction, systems failure, hull compromised, oxygen leakage, proximity alert, eject failure -- every alarm blared impossibly loud in the tiny cockpit, barely audible over the rushing vacuum of wind. 

A stream of creative curses spilled from your mouth as your fingers flew across the sparking dashboard, trying desperately to make something, anything work as your jet's descent steepened, plummeting through low-lying clouds.

Coming up with no other option than to try to limp to a nearby island, you yanked the control stick as hard as you could, bracing your legs as you strained with all your might to pull the plane out of its nosedive. 

You fought gravity itself: your arms feeling as if they were about to be ripped from their sockets. You were trying to lift tonnes of metal with one human's strength alone.

You let out a patriotic scream, blood pumping gloriously. Your cry to the heavens was drowned in the violent wind, the strain of the wings in the wrenching of your shoulders.

Alas, the jet wobbled and shook, breathing black smoke.

The cockpit was beginning to feel like a furnace due to the engine fire below. You were burning up in your heavy aviator's gear despite the cracked canopy's icy flood of air. Your breath came in short pants, crackling in your mask, and the broken radio screamed in your ears.

Land -- no, you'd failed, water -- rushed up to meet you. From the cockpit's window, the lake was a giant gaping blue maw opening wider to swallow you whole. And it would; given the chance, the slightest wavering of will.

Not one to simply accept fate, you struggled out of your buckles and into an emergency parachute, fingers shaking as they worked frantically in your small window of time.

The parachute cord caught on a displaced hunk of metal just as you ripped off your helmet. Masses of white fabric filled your vision. 

Senses clouded, the great boom of impact told you you'd hit water. It rebounded like astral ascension through your bones.

With the whiplash, you jerked forward, slamming into the centre console hard enough to elicit an intense ache in your chest. Your head connected with the dashboard. 

You pulled yourself upright, star-crossed for a moment, darkness clawing at the edges of your vision.

A sharp pain blossomed at your hairline; a thousand needles drove into your skull and twisted. You groaned as the dizziness sent you reeling a second later.

Something hot and wet and dark dripped down your forehead. You wiped it from your stinging eyes. You didn't have time for this. Through dancing stars, the jet was sinking rapidly into unfathomable depths; dragging you down with it never to be seen again.

Shaking off the disorientation, you scooped up your helmet from the floor and began attacking the glass canopy. Your movements were hindered by the limp parachute crowding what little space you had, but still the crack grew. 

Water spilled in faster, faster, sloshing around your shoulders. Finally, the entire pane collapsed into shards. You inhaled the deepest breath of air you could muster milliseconds before--

A great puff of depressurising air thrust you bodily out of the cockpit, as water flooded the jet entirely, wholly conjoining it to the lake. 

You tried to yank your rucksack free of where it was wedged, but it was stubborn and you didn't have seconds to spare. You abandoned it in favour of surging upwards.

You kicked your legs wildly, reaching above your head for filtered sunlight in a desperate bid for fresh air. The pressure in your lungs mounted and mounted.

Your heavy clothes and tired limbs weighed you down. You couldn't struggle out of the woolen aviator jacket; couldn't spare the few moments to let it drag you deeper in freefall.

Still, it was as if you had never left the jet. 

The light above didn't seem to be any closer, your progress like revving with the handbrake on. Your desperate kicks and thrusts weakened, bubbles streaming from your nose, dancing to the sky like ash as time trickled out.

It was dark. So dark. Cold. Lonely. You were thrashing. Water was filling your lungs. You were drowning. You were about to be lost to nature's most powerful force, and no one would know.

A muffled splash above echoed through the dark expanse of water. 

An angel from the surface had come to save you. 

Her form was silhouetted by dancing sunlight wings. Golden ringlets of hair splayed around her head in a halo. She swam down to you, powerful limbs propelling her down in an illusion of ease; a true display of power. 

The strength of her arms was reassuring.



Coughing and spluttering, you jolted upright. Water gushed from your mouth, spilling down your already soaked chest as you sat up. You found curious chartreuse eyes. Somehow, instinctively, you knew they belonged to the angel who saved you.

"Where are your wings?"

"What?" Her accent was dark velvet: authentic slavic, you recognised vaguely. It sent shivers down your spine as much as the chill of the water.

"Cause," A wet cough, "Cause you're an angel -- oh shit that's blood." 

"You have internal bleeding, probably," She said, smoothing back darkened blonde hair, peeling it from her shirt by the disturbance. She was just as soaked as you, as was the patch of grass you occupied.

Frothy, bright red spots of blood littered your hand. A sharp pain in your abdomen made itself present. Dizziness washed over you, but you pushed through to pull up your slick shirt and reveal a deep red discolouration on your chest. 

For some inexplicable reason, you poked it, and winced when a wave of pain crashed through the area. You blushed upon noticing her scrutinising gaze, clearing your throat. Your ribs ached in complaint.

You gratefully took the hand she offered, letting her display that strength again as she hauled you from the ground. She led you from the shore up to a cabin, which dominated what appeared to be an island.

"What's your name?" You asked.

A quiet moment of debate. "Yelena. You?"

You owed each other that much. "[Y/N]."

She hummed in recognition.

"Lie down. It'll help your blood flow more naturally," She said, tone not unkind.

You obeyed, then swallowed awkwardly around the dryness in your throat, piping up, "Could I have a drink of water?"

"Not until you've been treated," Yelena said, words accompanied by a privately playful smirk, to which you pouted. 

You drummed your fingers against your leg, looking around at what of the room you could see, as Yelena became otherwise occupied attending to her dog.

A goatskin rug had been draped over the back of a rocking chair in the corner, almost like hotel decoration. A blazer hung from a peg next to the door. A perfectly pruned arrangement of flowers sprouted from a ceramic vase shaped like a stylised duck, something that looked glittery lacing shards together. A misshapen candle's flame flickered cheerily on the windowsill.

Contrast of lived in and new. Yelena trying to make a home and not knowing how.

Yelena reentered, throwing a set of fresh, baggy clothes at you.

"So, you live here?" You said conversationally, looking out a window at the pine forest outside as you changed painstakingly slowly around his injury.

You could just make out a distant shore beyond the mist-obscured treeline, the grey lake lapping at a dark gravel beach.

Yelena stiffened. You watched out of the corner of your eye as she chewed her lip, face turned away from you. "No," She said, wary. "I'm only here to look after the island for my parents."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you, and returned to gazing outside. Maybe her parents are in hospital or something? Whatever the depth of her reason, it sounded personal. And complex. You shouldn't pry.

And you shouldn't take advantage of an innocent woman's hospitality, your conscience scolded. No choice, you rebutted.

Just then, someone knocked at the front door. Yelena shot you a look that carried a strange cocktail of warning, concern, and apprehension, before disappearing to attend to the visitor.

You weren't left alone for long. Yelena re-entered the room, biting her lip before glancing away and standing awkwardly in a corner. She was followed by a man slightly taller than her, whom you assumed was the doctor by his discoloured beige clinical coat and briefcase.

The doctor himself could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty. He introduced himself as Dr. Graham in his warbly, squeaky voice. His face was mottled by acne scars, his chin weak and bare as if it had never borne a single hair. His babyish eyes popped out of their sockets, making him look like an eternally frightened rabbit. His hairline had already climbed up his forehead, leaving only wispy fawn tuft behind his ears.

Puberty must've hit him like a plastic toy car, you mused.

Dr. Graham did his necessary medical things quickly enough, diagnosing you miraculously concussion-free. You provided an easy lie about falling down the stairs when moving boxes, which the doctor accepted with a degree of coldness and Yelena listened to with something like caution in her eyes.

"You need four weeks of bedrest," Dr. Graham sternly gave his departing orders, crossing his arms over his chest in tepid persistence.

"But--"

"No buts."

"But--" Yelena tried.

"No. Buts. Good day to you." He stressed, glaring at each of you -- the effect somewhat disheartened by his buggish eyes -- before striding out the door.

"We'll see if your hairline lasts four weeks," You grumbled darkly. Yelena snickered at that, which drew your attention to her. 

"So."

"So," Yelena prompted when you trailed off, looking at you quizzically.

"So, is it okay for me to stay with you that long? I can't exactly go anywhere else; the jet had all my money and cards in it." The bandages wrapped around your chest flexed uncomfortably with stretching muscle.

Well, Tony's cards.

"Sure, why not. I don't plan on going anywhere for a while," There it was again; that cautious reservedness showing itself to maintain the simmering distance between you. "I will need to pick up some groceries from town though. Will you be alright here with Fanny?" Yelena said, moving to the doorway again.

"We're on one of the Thousand Islands, right? How does an entire town fit? I mean I can understand a doctor, but--"

Yelena rolled her eyes. "The town is on the mainland. I'll be taking my boat, Paučók." She said, a hint of motherly pride slipping through at that. "Also, the doctor used his own boat. We're alone on this island."

"Oh," Heat rose to your cheeks.

She rolled her eyes again and strode away. An unmistakable bulge in her pocket caught your eye. Your mood darkened. Maybe her parents aren't in hospital after all.

With that fun revelation, you decided to do some harmless snooping once Yelena was out of sight. The front door clicked shut, the lock twisting with anxious finality.

Pulling yourself off the chair, you leaned against the wall, riding out an immobilising wave of pain for a few long moments, your eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted. A little internal bleeding wouldn't stop you!

Fanny fretted at your heels, seemingly unperturbed by your being a stranger. You petted her reassuringly, and she scampered off down the hallway, leaving you to trail behind her at a snail's pace.

Y comes back, confesses past nervously, R guilty, reveals snooping, Y angry, trust lost, R works to apologise and reopens wound



A week later, Dr. Graham called requesting you go to the clinic for a check-up. You took the call since Yelena was in the boat shelter doing maintenance on Paučók. Because you had started a streak of regaining trust, you decided you would obey the doctor. Just this once. 

You didn't like pissing people off, contrary to popular belief -- it was messy to fix and sent you completely out of your depth -- even if it was endlessly amusing to annoy the doctor. Besides, Yelena would give you an earful if you hurt yourself again.

Heading out to find the aforementioned Russian and inform her, you took a plated stack of the pancakes you'd made, just in case she hadn't eaten yet. She'd been up and gone by the time you got moving, just dumping a used coffee cup in the sink as you appeared in the kitchen.

Walking through the bracing early morning mist, you got the sensation it wasn't going to shift for the rest of the day. The icy vapour stung your cheeks and whipped you into full vigilance: a hard slap from Mother Nature. You pulled your aviator's jacket tighter over your shoulders.

Stepping into the boat shelter, you went unnoticed by Yelena. This was strange, considering that in the time you'd known each other she'd always seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting your presence before you'd even walked through the door.

The cause of her distraction was soon revealed, as the whirring of machinery permeated the workshop.

Oh shit. Okay. She's ripped. Damn. Okay. Cool. Okay. Okay. Take a deep breath. One, two, three, release. Okay. Now use your words.

"I-I brought you, um, cakespan -- no, uhm -- pancakes!"

...What?!

You cringed.

(Gae muscle panic)

The doctor's clinic was, for whatever reason, not located on the mainland. Instead, it inhabited one of the larger islands alongside a few other residences -- enough to form a hamlet -- that sat just a few hundred metres into the lake, near the main feeding river's mouth. The clinic itself was a converted gothic mansion, all arching stone masonry and high, gilded ceilings that made rooms echo eerily.

The place wasn't busy; you were seen after just a few minutes, the only other patient being a pregnant woman accompanied by her wife. Yelena trailed after you into the examination room, stuck on the boundary of limiting your association and keeping you in her sights at all times.

You exchanged an apprehensive look upon noticing an unfamiliar boat moored to the island's jetty.

Yelena pulled in quietly, killing the engine and letting Paučók drift into place on the current. You both stepped out onto the platform, gaze locked on the stagnant house through sentinel trees. Its dark windows gazed back steadily with quiet amusement. 

Yelena bent to secure Paučók's ropes. She reached into her pocket and handed you a loaded semi-automatic handgun, as well as drawing a revolver for herself.

You handled the handgun with familiarity. "God, how many guns do you have on you?"

"Enough to be prepared."

Together, you crept up the beaten dirt track to the house, guns poised to react. The building waited for you patiently.

A bird swooped low over your heads, flapping hurriedly to ascend. You and Yelena startled at the abrupt action. The desperation in its wake left a strange, almost oppressive tension heavy in the crowding mist. 

In the next moment, it was dispelled like a river bursting as Fanny came sprinting after the bird through the trees, barking freely. She skidded to a halt at Yelena's feet, who quickly bent to attend to her dog. She slipped Fanny a treat and ruffled her thick coat, speaking to her as if she could answer.

"What happened, Fan? What are you doing out of the house, huh?" Yelena cooed. Fanny panted happily in response.

"Fanny!" A new voice called jovially through the opaque mist. 

A second later, a hazy humanoid solidified into an approaching silhouette striding toward them. With every muted step, their features sharpened to reveal fiery red hair draped over slim shoulders, a vest secure over a dark bodysuit, green eyes eclipsed by the dreary surroundings.

"Fanny," Natasha said again, scolding this time with a playful lilt, coming to a stop in front of the three.

"Natasha," Yelena answered, wide-eyed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Yeah, Nat," You piped up. "What are you doing here?"

Natasha looked at him, surprise evident in her expression. "[Y/N]? What are you doing here?"

"Okay, we're getting nowhere with this. Let's go inside." Yelena said, leading the way up to the house. Fanny ran ahead eagerly, twirling in impatient circles as everyone traipsed behind her.

Once inside, the frigid mist shut out behind a heavy wooden door, you immediately moved to the fire. You rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to expose your forearms, but didn't shrug it off, still feeling the chill in your bones. You stirred up the glowing embers; feeding them another log and coaxing a true, strong flame out of it.

Meanwhile, Yelena hung up her overshirt on a peg and stepped into the adjoining kitchen, shuffling through cupboards. The kettle's whistle crescendoed cheerily a few moments later. 

Natasha kicked off her boots at the door, falling into an armchair with a grateful sigh. She produced a dog toy from a pocket when Fanny jumped onto her lap, teasing the Shepherd with it but neither wanting to move too far.

Accepting the mug of coffee from Yelena when she padded back into the living room, you took the other armchair, leaving her to claim the plush loveseat. Fanny jumped off Natasha's lap as she received her beverage, instead lying down on a rug in front of the resplendently roaring fire.

You inhaled the steam, the soft fragrance providing gentle caresses of nostalgia. You blew on the hot liquid until it was cool enough to sip safely, smiling at the taste. 

Yelena and Natasha sipped quietly from their own mugs -- labelled 'blood of my enemies' and 'keep it up and you will be a strange smell in the attic' respectively -- while staring introspectively into the fire. Well, Natasha was. Yelena was admiring Fanny. As she rightfully should.

"So, Natasha," The blonde finally said, facing the other woman with a somewhat annoyed expression, "What has brought you here?" 

Drizzling rain began to fall outside. Fresh symphonies of pine wafted in through a cracked open window, condensation forming in the corners of its rustic frame.

Natasha tore her gaze from the fire to meet her sister's over the rim of her mug. "Mason called me to say you'd requested extra time. He wanted me to make sure you hadn't gotten yourself into trouble."

Yelena nodded absently. Her hazel eyes were glazed over; distant in thought. You looked between the sisters, utterly lost. 

"Mason? Is he your landlord? Are you leaving soon?"

The log crackled and popped, jolting hard enough to cause everyone in the room to startle. Yelena stared into her mug guiltily.

"No. He's… this a safehouse. I'm waiting for some media controversy to blow over." She confessed to the hot chocolate.

"Controversy surrounding the death of an important army benefactor?" You asked.

She looked up at you, clearly surprised and a little wary, but nodded. You sank a little deeper into the armchair, trying to make yourself smaller. Yelena looked to Natasha for an explanation. The avenger smirked.

"[Y/N] here had to leave the states pretty urgently after being framed for that benefactor's murder," She supplied, clearly enjoying every moment of what was to come.

Yelena gaped for a few moments, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before she finally managed coherency. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I promise I wasn't the one to point any blame at you."

You waved her off, red-faced. "It's fine. We know who it was. Unfortunately, no official will even consider it, and demand I be put behind bars."

"Tony's working on the legal stuff," Natasha reassured you, before returning her attention to her drink. 

"Tony? As in Tony Stark of Stark Industries? Iron Man? You know him?" Yelena gushed, eyes shining.

"WellI'mkindofanavenger," You mumbled sheepishly. Natasha snorted in amusement.

"[Y/N] is one of the cool kids I run around with," She said in answer to Yelena's confused frown.

The Russian was struck speechless. Fanny sighed and shifted, briefly drawing her attention from blank staring, which gave you a breather to compose yourself.

"Yes. I'm an Avenger," you said; steady and strong. You were proud of your occupation. You'd saved lives -- the entire planet! -- countless times, and you'd do it again in a heartbeat. Yelena had every right to understand that.

"So," Natasha said, finishing her drink in one gulp and standing, "I'll be calling Mason to tell him everything's fine, and the other safehouse in Yukon is free since you're both staying here. That right?"



Natasha ended up staying with you. 

In a quiet conversation by the patio firepit after Nat had gone to bed, you and Yelena both agreed that the avenger needed this more than she cared to admit. 

The next morning, Yelena invited her sister to stay with you for the whole run of your supposed bedrest, to which she reluctantly agreed. 

(Honestly, your insistence swayed her more than her own volition. She couldn't resist three sets of puppy eyes.)

It was hard for Natasha to let go of work.

The boys and Wanda were a mess without her, and she received numerous disgruntled or chaotic calls throughout the day. She talked herself into flying back to the states multiple times, but you wouldn't let her. 

Yelena tried telling the team to back off -- to just let her relax -- but they failed to learn how to function without Natasha. 

Eventually, Pepper intervened and the calls stopped. 

Before this, you had put Nat's phone on silent and hidden it while she was showering. Yelena returned with clothing flown over from the compound (she'd been lending hers to her sister until now since Nat didn't bring any) to find you taped to a wall and Natasha in a frenzy.

That day, her paranoia swiftly devolved into a panic attack, which turned into a full breakdown. 

It was heartbreaking to watch your friend fall apart. Yelena helped her through it, and after a therapeutic cry Nat was more willing to ignore the others. The team knew the emergency code. She was finally ready to accept a break.

Released from the tape by a sheepish Natasha, you gave her a loving hug to melt into, then texted Pepper.

Nat was much happier after that. Her soul sang free like the spring songbirds for the first time. Even during the three years in Ohio, the shadow of the Red Room had bound her wings, and the recent ordeal of taking down Dreykov, of Antonia -- coming face-to-face with her greatest nightmare -- had been emotionally intense. To say the least.

Finally getting a true break allowed the reality of those horrors to be released. A huge weight took flight from her shoulders. 

Of course, healing takes time, and is not a linear journey. You and Yelena were there for Natasha every day.

Yelena's mood improved with her sister's, and soon the two were acting as if they'd never been trained assassins separated for twenty years. They were just a normal family. Happy, content.

Mealtimes were filled with cheerful banter and laughter, the result of weaving around bodies crammed into the kitchen and steam clouding cracked open windows.

Mornings were spent lazing in bed, followed by sunbathing on the porch with a coffee. Nights were either filled with alcohol and stumbling to bed; or books, cozy blankets and a roaring fireplace. The rest of their day was occupied with chores, exploring the island, and swimming in the lake. Natasha mostly played with Fanny around the island. She was almost more infatuated with the dog than Yelena, if that was even possible.

At some point, you ended up gravitating into Yelena's bed.

#mcu x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #white widow #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #gender neutral reader #fem reader #masc reader #themagnificentmx #my writing

[judgemark45]

The Japanese battleship Haruna conducting trials following her major reconstruction in 1934.

During her reconstruction, Haruna took on enough additional weaponry, armor, and other equipment that it required adding blisters to her hull (improving her stability while also increasing her protection against underwater threats). This led to an increase in her displacement by roughly 5,000 long tons. Her standard displacement grew from 27,500 long tons to 32,200 long tons. Her new full load displacement grew to roughly 36,600 long tons.

Despite the increase in tonnage and the widening of the beam from 92' (28m) to a new maximum of 101' 8" (31m), the speed of Haruna actually increased. This was due to a new powerplant, her sixteen coal-fired boilers (the result of a 1920s modernization that replaced her original thirty-six boilers) being replaced by eleven brand-new oil-fired models. This doubled her power from 64,000shp (her original output) to a new maximum of 136,000shp. The increase in power was also helped by grafting a new stern section to the hull, increasing her length by 26' (7.8m) and helping maintain her length-to-beam ratio even with the new blisters. This was enough to permit a new maximum speed of just over 30 knots.

Now, a lot of people would say this was all for naught, considering the armor was still relatively light by battleship standards. This certainly showed itself to be a problem when Kirishima was destroyed by American battleships. On the other hand, the Kongo class were far more likely to meet enemy destroyers or cruisers in combat. In this regard, the armor was sufficient.

I would go so far to say that the Kongo class were the most useful battleships in the Japanese Navy during World War 2. Their speed made them far more flexible and able to undertake a greater variety of roles.

The only major weakness of the rebuilt Kongo class was their lack of a truly modern anti-aircraft weapon system. Of course, this was a problem that affected Japan as a whole. Had the Kongo class had access to some improved anti-aircraft weapons, perhaps the 100mm heavy anti-aircraft weapons, they would have proved to be even better escorts in fleet actions.

[blurscolours]

The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Part Two

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Interpersonal Conflict, Orm Is Self-Righteous, Reader Is Tired

Word Count: 2174

When you woke the next morning, the sun filtered through the gaps in your curtains. You stretched slowly, everything peaceful until your brain filled with the events of yesterday. You sat up fully…right…your gaze went over to the door thinking about your unexpected guest. You shoved the covers off your body and slid out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a top. You dressed and managed your hair before opening the curtains.

You winced and blinked furiously into the bright of day before your eyes adjusted and focused on the figure standing at the end of the dock. You couldn’t tell what he was looking at, could only imagine what was going through his mind. Surely, he must be feeling utterly displaced so far from the ocean. With a sigh, you turned and headed toward the kitchen to start thinking about breakfast.

Meat did not seem to suit his palate…maybe some eggs instead? You really needed to make a point of finding out what food he would eat. You looked up as the door opened and he stepped back in. He must have heard you up and about.

“Good morning” You smiled warmly, trying to keep your tone understated in respect of what he’d recently been through. “Are you interested in some breakfast?”

His reply was a nod as he assumed the same chair he sat in the previous evening.

“May I ask what kind of food you like?” You leaned your back against the counter as you faced him.

“I do not know much of human food.” He commented. “But in Atlantis we eat a lot of fish, shellfish, kelp, and things of that nature.”

“Of course, that makes a lot of sense. I’ll make a trip into town to get some more food today, I really only packed for one, and I’m sure you’ll be wanting some clothes and things. Would you be open to trying some eggs for breakfast?”

He nodded again and you wondered if he was usually this quiet or if pain and circumstance had taken his voice.

“Ok, breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes. I’ll make what I normally would, and don’t worry about offending me if you don’t like any of it.” You shrugged, it would be better once you’d shopped but at this moment you were stuck with what was at hand…and your mutual unfamiliarity with each other’s culture.

You scrambled the eggs; that seemed safest as yolks could be a controversial texture and made toast. You washed some strawberries and took out the hulls, the prevent any confusion, and sliced an apple. He watched as you boiled a kettle of water and poured it into a tea pot with tea bags. His eyes followed your every move, in fact, as you laid out plates and cutlery, milk and sugar for the tea, and at last the food. You filled two mugs with the steeped tea and brought them to the table, sitting at last.

As you served some of each item onto his plate, you explained what it was and then talked him through the ketchup you put on your eggs, the spread you put on your toast, and the milk and sugar you put in your tea. Then you respectfully left him to make his own decisions and started eating.

He took a sip of the tea without anything in it and made a slight face. He considered both the milk and the sugar before adding a sprinkling of the sugar and sipped again. He gave a single nod and moved onto the next thing. The eggs. His approach was so methodical…almost scientific. You bit your cheek to remind yourself not to let on how adorable it was. He ended up eating the eggs plain, demolished most of the fruit, and had peanut butter on his toast.

He looked to you as he finished his plate. “That was quite tolerable.”

You blinked a little, not exactly sure how to take it but decided it was all-in-all fairly positive.

“I am glad to hear it.” You collected the plates to the counter before returning to the table with a pad of paper and a pen. “So, we definitely need more fruits, vegetables, eggs…and I will get some clothes for you as well. I doubt anyone here knows where your outfit originated but it is obviously a more advanced technology than we have for swim wear.” You wrote out the list as you spoke before looking to him. “Have I missed anything?”

He shook his head silently.

You bit you lip in thought, adding a few things to the list before you felt like everything was covered. “I will leave you here, it’s a bit of a trek. I’ll show you what you might like to eat if you get hungry while I’m gone?”

He stood to follow you, leaning in as you opened the fridge. You pointed out some cold cuts, left over chicken from your first night at the cabin, and showed him where the fruits and veggies were.

“I’ll just do these dishes and be on my way. Any other questions?”

He shook his head again and sat back at the table.

“You’re welcome to sit wherever you wish, please make yourself at home.” You smiled hopefully before quickly doing the dishes. You grabbed your purse and a cooler bag before turning to him.

“I should be back in about four hours or so. If you need anything...” You trailed off not exactly sure what to say. Asking the neighbours was not a good idea, telling him to give you a call would be utterly unfamiliar to him…

“I will be fine, and here when you return” His voice cut through your inner musings, and you nodded with a smile.

“Great, see you shortly.” You replied.

Heading down to the dock, you grabbed a lifejacket out of the boat house, before hopping into the motorboat tied up alongside the dock. It was a simple sixteen-foot aluminum boat with outboard motor, but out here it was a crucial piece of transport. You checked the gas levels and started the engine, leaving it in neutral while you untied the bow and stern, stowing the ropes inside the boat. You looked up at the cabin to see him watching you from the veranda. You gave a wave. He did not wave back. You pushed off from the dock before easing into reverse. Once you’d cleared the dock, you pointed the bow to the west and took off towards the parking lot where your car waited for you.

The boat ride took about ten minutes, and it was easy to find a spot to tie up for the day while you ran your errands in town. You climbed into your car, chuckling to yourself as you had not expected to be back in it so soon, and headed off down the gravel road. It turned into highway after thirty minutes and within another fifteen you were in town.

You headed to a big box store to pick up as much as possible in one place. You started by stocking up on the produce he so obviously enjoyed, along with what seemed to be the nicest fish they had on offer. You also found some kelp and wakame, a Japanese seaweed apparently. You paused at the meat alternative section and shrugged before grabbing some tofu…maybe that would be to his liking…and rounded out the groceries with more eggs as they were ‘tolerable’.

You then headed to the pharmacy section and pondered over the kinds of things men used…you ended up buying a toothbrush, a good quality razor (though who knew if he needed to shave? Arthur did so there was a good chance…), shaving cream, body soap, and deodorant – all with the least offensive scent you could find. You also bought more first aid supplies to replace those he had used.

The last stop on your shopping tour was the clothing section. You guessed his size and picked up two pairs of shorts, a pair of pants, several tops with short and long sleeves, sleep shorts and shirts, a rain jacket, a bathing suit, sandals, runners, socks, and then you came to the underwear. Based on the way the suit fit Orm’s body, you guessed he would be a briefs man…Great you were blushing now. In the middle of a big box store. Staring at men’s underwear. You grabbed two of the three-packs quickly and vacated the aisle before anyone could witness your shame.

The bill was not small, but you had no hesitation when the ‘tap to pay’ popped up on the payment system screen. This was all the help Arthur and his brother. You tapped your credit card, relieved to hear the payment accepted chirp, and carried your bags out to the car. As you finished loading the trunk, you took a pause to take your phone off airplane mode and ensure you hadn’t missed anything important. There was a message from an unknown number, time stamped to the day before.

I need your help. I will be there soon.

Arthur…the man was constantly jumping into the ocean, destroying his cellphones so often that you never had his latest number saved. You shook your head a little as that was clearly meant to have arrived before he and Orm leapt onto the end of your dock yesterday.

It was well past lunch when you were headed back, so you grabbed a meal from the drive thru and polished it off happily as you drove back to the main dock.

By the time you parked and hauled everything to the boat, the energy you’d been expending over the last twenty-four hours caught up with you. You were tired. Just a little bit more effort and you’d be back at the cottage. You crossed the lake easily and pulled up to the dock. He was not there to greet you, but you had managed a solo docking many times. You easily tied up the boat and collected the bags, hauling them up to the cottage. He was not waiting at the door either. You juggled the bags and managed to get the door open.

You stepped in to find him sitting at the table again and may have let an exasperated sigh slip. Setting the bags on the table, you looked to him.

“Can you please look these things over and let me know what you think?”

All you wanted was to get a glass of water and take a break. This was supposed to be your vacation, after all. You filled a glass of water and went to sit across from him, taking a grateful sip. He had a pile of food unpacked on the table to his left, and was examining the fish closely, reading the packaging.

“This is all from commercial fishing.” He said coldly.

You blinked and looked to him. “I only bought wild caught, I promise.”

He raised his gaze to yours and for the first time you actually saw an emotion there. It was anger. You tried not to bristle. You’d just gone above and beyond to get this for him.

“Any fish caught by commercial fishing is unacceptable. I will not eat it.” He tossed it to his right, carelessly.

You set down your glass with a bit more of a thud than you would have liked.

“I am very sorry to hear that as that is all I am able to purchase for you out here…” Your left hand was clenched into a ball against your thigh under the table. Stay. Calm.

“You will just have to do better. Your kind is so oblivious to the suffering your convenience causes throughout the oceans. As long as it’s fast and cheap, the cost paid by the inhabitants of the sea is not your problem. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re all the same.” He scoffed coldly in the haughtiest tone you had ever had the misfortune to hear.

You clenched your teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. Not only had he never once expressed gratitude for what you had been doing for him since he set foot on your dock…now he was generalizing with his prejudice against the surface. You took a deep breath and stood.

“I will not engage with you when you speak like that. You are displaced and angry – justifiably so. But I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner, especially as I am doing everything I can to help you after you were delivered to me unannounced. I am going for a walk. I will be back when I am able to have an actual conversation with you about this.” Your words were short, but you were quite proud to have kept your tone even…and to have contained the waiver in your voice.

Stepping into your shoes, you headed out the door, pulling it closed firmly behind you. You did not chance a look back at his stunned face.

Read Part Three

Masterlist

#orm x reader #orm marius x reader #orm imagine #orm fic #orm marius imagine #orm marius fic #ocean master x reader

[newbie-whovian]

May I request ten x reader where ten meets someone (reader) who he thought he lost in the time war but they were just displaced in time. When they Rematerialize the TARDIS recognizes them and instead of taking the doctor to where he wanted to go it takes him to readers location and when ten sees her it’s like angst fluff? Because ten thought he would never see her again and that he was the last of the Time lords but she’s right there!! Sorry I’ve had this in my mind for a while lol

(Thank you for the request!! Ten is so great, I hope I've written him well)

Lost and Found - The Tenth Doctor x Reader

The Daleks were coming; the city's defenses had finally fallen, and the Doctor was nowhere to be found.

You ran through the ravaged streets of your home, hearing distant gravelly screeches of 'exterminate!' growing steadily closer. You shouted, "Doctor! Where in the hell are you?" as you turned corner after corner, and after what felt like an eternity, you had gotten yourself hopelessly lost in the maze of rubble.

An explosion rang out somewhere in the chaos behind you, and a burning TARDIS came crashing into the ruins of some unrecognizable building. You nearly disregarded it to continue your search, but a weak sound came from the wreckage, and your curiosity overcame you.

You could feel it trying to travel, its effort hanging like static in the air, and as you laid your hand on the hull, it took you with it.

The city around you began to dematerialize as the dying TARDIS flung you away into nothing. You tried to call for the Doctor but you disappeared before the words left your mouth.

-

The Doctor, in a younger body but older by a great many years, meandered his way around the console, waiting for inspiration to strike.

He stared down at the grating below his trainers as he swung one foot in front of the other, muttering aloud, "Been a while since I've been to Barcelona. Weather's dreadful though, too much sand." He ran a hand through his hair, causing it all to stand up on end in the funny way he liked. "Could visit Queen Elizabeth," he mused, thinking before screwing up his face and saying, "Naaah, I'll remember."

The TARDIS hummed at him vindictively and he protested, "Of course I will! And besides, time machine? It doesn't matter." He paced some more before stepping over to the console, muttering, "Fine, you win," flipping a number of switches and dials and sending them hurtling through the void.

-

You took in a huge gasp of air as your feet finally touched solid ground. The wind whipped across your face as you looked around to see nothing but open plains of white sand and a pink and orange sky.

You couldn't think of a single thing to do to try and get yourself back to Gallifrey, if there even was a Gallifrey once all of this nonsense was over. All you could see was sand, in all directions, and it was a small mercy that the sun was veiled by thick orange clouds.

You sighed and picked a direction, trudging through the soft sand towards nothing.

-

The TARDIS shuddered to a stop and the Doctor leapt up from his chair, clapping his hands together and saying, "Right!"

He strode towards his door and tugged on the lapels of his jacket, tugging open the door and rehearsing under his breath, "Hellooo Elizabeth! How've you been-"

He stepped out and the smile slid off of his face. "Hold on. No no no no, not sand!"

He looked around quickly and glared back at the TARDIS, saying, "This isn't England."

Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded behind him, and he froze.

"Hello? Who are you?"

His heart rose to his throat as he recognized the voice as yours, and he turned around slowly. He saw you standing in the sand, looking exactly the same as the day he'd lost you. But you wouldn't recognize him, he'd changed faces twice since then; he could only hope you would believe him.

"It's me… it's the Doctor, but… how?"

You recognized his 'police box' and narrowed your eyes at him, saying slowly, "I'm not sure… a dying TARDIS, I think…" Although your friend looked much different, you could still recognize the sadness behind his eyes; it had always broken your heart, how such a wonderful, imaginative person had to carry the weight of the universe so often. Tears welled in your eyes and you stepped forward, examining him and saying, "You've regenerated since then. Oh Rassilon, how long has it been? Too long, I imagine."

He moved to close the distance between you, his eyes glistening as he pulled you in for a hug. You returned the hug with a smile, blinking back tears.

"Two regenerations… I thought I was the only one left- I thought everyone else was gone-" he uttered, holding onto you like his life depended on it. You buried your face in his shoulder and he quickly picked you up, spinning around in the sand as you both laughed.

"I'm not the only one! Oh lord, you're a miracle!" he cheered, stumbling slightly before setting you down and cupping your face in his hands. "I have so much to tell you!"

He looked around with his nose wrinkled, sneering, "But not around all this blasted sand, cmon-!"

He grabbed your hand and led you into his TARDIS. "I was just on my way to meet Queen Elizabeth the First!"

You frowned and asked, "Who?"

"Oh, she's an Earth queen, and apparently, my wife," he said with a shrug, flipping various switches that you were sure didn't do anything but control the temperature of the pool.

You stood by him behind the console, saying, "Your wife, hm? Been a bit busy since I disappeared, eh?"

He shrugged again and wrapped an arm around your waist before saying, "Thought she was a Zygon, long story."

You shook your head with a wide smile. "You never change."

He returned your smile and gave you a kiss on the cheek, saying, "Now, Queen Elizabeth, or Barcelona?"

"I suppose we could do a little bit of both."

His smile widened and he pulled one of the levers, letting out a yell of "Allons-y!"

#doctor who #doctor who fic #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #tenth doctor #10th doctor

[grimm-the-tiger]

Dumb shipwreck facts because I need to hyperfixate for a moment: 

The only Olympic-class (Britannic, Titanic, and Olympic) ship that was actually unsinkable was the Olympic. Olympic took full advantage of this and became the only merchant vessel in WWI on record to sink an enemy vessel (it didn’t discriminate, either; Olympic actually sank two vessels during its service, one of which was a friendly lightship during peacetime). 

It took 150 years to discover what happened to the infamous Lost Franklin Expedition because the English were too racist to ask the natives. The Canadians, meanwhile, found the wreck of one of their ships, HMS Terror, in a fraction of the time by asking an Inuit hunter named Sammy Kogvik for help. 

There are at least two wrecks in Lake Erie that we may never find because the lakebed quite literally swallowed them. 

On a related note, Lake Erie might have the highest concentration of shipwrecks of any body of water in the world. 

Lake Superior is actually the least lethal Great Lake, despite its reputation, but over half of its wrecks are located around Whitefish Point, most notably the Edmund Fitzgerald. 

The Bermuda Triangle doesn’t actually have a very high disappearance or wreck rate. It’s considered weird because the gulf stream carries any wrecks and debris out of the search area, making it that much harder to find any remains. 

There’s a disturbing tendency for ships, particularly freighters, to not only split in half while they sink, but for the back half (the stern) to keep going, sometimes for miles. The most notable case of this would be the SS Pendleton, an oil freighter that wrecked off the coast of Massachusetts; the rescue of the crew on its stern is considered to be one of the most daring Coast Guard rescues ever pulled off. 

Most ships built before 1950 were made with subprime or low-grade metal, which is believed to be part of the reason why they split in half so often. This metal turned brittle in colder water; guess where most of these wrecks were. Some wrecks believed to have fallen victim to this include the Titanic, the aforementioned Pendleton, the Carl D. Bradley, and the Daniel J. Morrell. 

An Arctic cruise ship took on a Venezuelan patrol boat and won. Said patrol boat was trying to force the cruise ship, the Resolute, to come ashore. Ships create depressions in the water (you most often see this in the “wake”) called displacement, and it’s generally believed the patrol boat underestimated the strength of the Resolute’s displacement and was sucked into its path, ending up crushed by Resolute’s icebreaker-grade hull. 

While we can be reasonably certain what sank the Marquette & Bessemer No. 2 (it was a train ferry with an open back and had previously had a near-accident when a wave slammed directly into the opening, almost flooding it), what we don’t know is what happened before and after. One of its lifeboats was found with nine bodies and the clothing of a tenth. The ship’s steward was found armed with two knives and a meat cleaver, and the captain’s body was found some time later with slash wounds. It’s agreed that the steward killed him, but why remains a mystery. 

Moby Dick was based on the sinking of the Essex, a whaling ship that was rammed and sunk by its own prey. The crew resorted to cannibalism to survive; ironically, they would’ve been rescued sooner had they not avoided a nearby island chain for fear of cannibal tribes. 

Don’t read about the sinking of the Estonia. Just...don’t. It’s not pleasant. For some hint of how awful it was, despite being reasonably close to the surface no one was ever able to get all the bodies out because of the sheer number of them. 

On a much lighter note, the Swedish Navy in the 1700s poured thousands of kroner into building a mighty flagship for their navy, the Vasa...only for the Vasa to sink less than 300 yards into its maiden voyage. Turns out they gave it too many guns, making it too top-heavy, and it capsized. 

The Canadian freighter Bannockburn disappeared in a storm in 1902. Almost all of its crew were in their late teens and early 20s; the youngest was 16. Companies would hire younger, less experienced men to work aboard their ships because they were cheaper. The Bannockburn has never been found. 

Speaking of Lake Superior shipwrecks, there’s a saying that “Lake Superior never gives up her dead”. It’s not wrong; the temperatures at the bottom are cold enough to halt the decaying process, which prevents the bodies from rising to the surface. The most notable instance of this is Old Whitey, the nickname for a body found in the engine room of the Kamloops who has never been identified. This is also the reason no one is allowed to dive to the Edmund Fitzgerald; the crew’s bodies are still aboard the wreck, and it’s considered disrespectful at best to dive to a place that for all intents and purposes is a graveyard. 

It took over 100 years and numerous deaths from scurvy for anyone to realize that eating raw meat can prevent it. They discovered this on a Belgian arctic expedition where one of the crewmen, drawing on past experience, somehow managed to convince the rest of the crew to eat raw penguin, rapidly decreasing the number and severity of scurvy cases onboard. 

To end this on a lighter note, the saying “Batten down the hatches” is an actual maritime phrase; hatches are openings in the ship’s deck used to bring cargo inside and, on older ships, allow passengers and crew on deck. Hatches let enormous amounts of water into the ship in bad weather, and are often “battened down” (covered up) to prevent water from getting in. It will probably not surprise you to learn that not battening down the hatches or not doing it properly has caused its fair share of wrecks; notably, it’s believed that the Cyprus, an ore carrier that was said to be leaving a red trail in its wake the day before it capsized, was leaving said trail because its hatches were improperly sealed; water was getting into the hold, mixing with the cargo of iron ore, and then being pumped out, hence the red wake. 

#shipwreck #shipwrecks #interesting facts #random facts #indulging in my shipwreck hyperfixation #shipwreck shenanigans #might make posts elaborating on some of these #especially the olympic #that ship did not give any fucks

[idungoofed]

Dincember Day 12 - Tree

Din Djarin x Gn!Reader

Finally jumping on the Dincember writing prompts, because better late than never right?

Word count: 816

____

You haul the small tree up the ramp of the Crest by its trunk with one hand, leaving a trail of green needles in its wake. With your other hand you carry a canvas bag, full from your solo shopping spree.

After pressing the controls to close the ramp you continue into the hull. You enter the space, too busy making sure you don’t displace any crates with the tree, the Mandalorian in the corner, who was sitting on a crate polishing his weapons goes unnoticed till he speaks.

“What’s that?” Comes Din’s gruff voice through the helmet.

You snap your head up, stepping in front of the tree. You’d hoped Din would be busy in the cockpit or sleeping at least till after you’d managed to decorate it.

“What’s what?” You ask, playing dumb.

“That green thing.” He sighs, pointing one of his gloved fingers behind you.

“You mean Grogu?” You ask, pointing at the child who had wondered over to you from his spot beside Din and was currently digging through the canvas bag. You try to nudge it away from him with your foot.

“No. The plant you just dragged through my ship.” He sighed again, causing a smile to break across your face. You loved it when he got all huffy.

“Oh that. Well that’s a tree, Din Djarin. I thought you’d know what one of those looked like by now.” You say, unable to keep the smirk off your lips.

Din simply stares at you through his visor, letting the silence work on you till you’d have to speak again.

Before you can break, Grogu pulls on the bag at your feet, causing its contents of colourful baubles and tinsel to spill over the floor.

You look down at the mess and back up to a Din who crosses his arms.

“Okay, fine! I got a Christmas tree! It just… you know I love this time of year, and it’s the first one I can celebrate in a home and with a family!” You exclaim, gesturing around the Crest and between Din and the child. “At least let me decorate it first before you decide on whether you like it.” You finish, voice trailing off.

Din stands then, stepping around the stray decorations, coming to a stop in front of you. He brings his hands up to cup your face, leather bound thumb brushing along your cheek. “Let me know when you’re finished, I’ll be in the cockpit.” He says, then leans his helmed head in to softly touch yours.

You grin up at him as he turns towards the ladder, stopping with one foot on the first rung. “You did get the stuff we actually needed from the market though, right?”

You roll your eyes and wiggle your hand at him in a shooing motion. “Yeah yeah, of course I did, now go on, me and Grogu need to get to work.” You say while glancing at the child who was staring, mesmerised, at his reflection in a purple bauble.

__

Less than an hour later you’re lifting the kid so he can place the last bauble on the tree. Well, almost the last - you did promise him he could keep one to play with.

You stand back with Grogu in your arms, watching how the colourful, twinkling lights bounce off the reflective surface of the Crests interior. He happily coos in your arms, shaking his new toy in the air.

You call Din’s name and wait for him to descend the ladder.

“Ta-dahh!” You say as Din turns towards you. “What do ya think?”

Din doesn’t say anything at first, only standing in silence.

Your shoulders slump with defeat. “You hate it.” You say. “I’m sorry Din, I just wanted to… it’s fine, I’ll just…” you reach for a bauble ready to start removing them when Din grabs your hand to stop you.

“Don’t.” He says, pulling you towards him where he wraps you and the child in his arms. “I… love it. You were right, it definitely makes the Crest more festive, I’m glad you got it.”

The smile that warms your face makes the tree needles still littering the floor worth it.

“Oh! I almost forgot we saved the best part for you!” You say in a sing-song voice. Turning out his arms, you collect the golden star you got as a topper, and hand it to him. “It goes on the top.” You point, knowing this was Din’s first time having a Christmas tree.

He reaches up and places it on the tip of the top branch, and steps back next to you. You sigh contentedly and wrap your arm that wasn’t holding the kid around his waist, resting your head on Din’s shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Din.”

“Merry Christmas, Mesh’la.”

“Patu!”

You break into laughter, “Merry Christmas to you too, kid.”

__

Thank you reading! 💕🎄

#dincember 2022 #dincember #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #fan fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din djarin x gn!reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction

[lonestarbattleship]

Proposed Heavy Cruiser CA2-D

This design provided:

Main battery: twelve 12-inch/50-caliber guns in four triple turrets

Secondary battery: sixteen 5-inch/38-caliber guns

Machinery: 212,000 horsepower powerplant

Top speed: 33.5 knots

Waterline length: 850 feet

Beam: 99-104.5 feet

Standard displacement: 38,700 tons

Draft: 31.5 feet

Preliminary design plan prepared for the General Board as part of the process leading to the Alaska class (CB 1-6) large cruiser design. This plan, dated January 18, 1940 and representing the largest size cruiser studied at this time. Anti-torpedo side protection, with four internal bulkheads, is shown in the hull section drawing at the lower left. Scale of the original plan and elevation drawings is 1/32 = 1'. Scale of the hull section drawing is 1/16 = 1'. The original plan is in the 1939-1944 Spring Styles Book held by the Naval History and Heritage Command."

Naval History and Heritage Command: S-511-6

Artwork by Tzoli: link

Profile view by dalamace on shipbucket: link

#preliminary design #Cruiser #CA2-D #Heavy Cruiser #united states navy #us navy #navy #usn #u.s. navy #January #1940 #interwar period #my post

[fantomcomics]

What's Out This Week? 11/15

Upcoming events:

11/19 - Anti-Imperialist Collage Workshop!

11/20 - Scott Pilgrim Book Club & Netflix Watch Party!

Alien #1 - Declan Shalvey, Andrea Broccardo & Javier Fernandez

EVERYONE WILL HEAR YOU SCREAM! •  In deep space spins a world infected by the universe's greatest killers. Most people - sane people - would construct a barrier thicker than the hulls of ten Nostromos and leave it to rot. •  But where most people see a death trap, Weyland-Yutani sees the biggest payout in the history of civilization. And if it costs a few human lives to secure? Those come cheap here. •  Corporate corruption, personal betrayals and extraordinary violence - Declan Shalvey and Andrea Broccardo's next and greatest Alien story starts here!

Catians #1 - Cortney Cameron & Luyi Bennett

Stray cat Felix leads a happy life skimming milk from his human friend Rose's convenient store, until the local protection racket turns violent. To save Rose's life, Felix breaks his vows and shares an ancient secret. Unfortunately, Rose uses her newfound knowledge to mix revenge and forbidden magic, unleashing a monstrous abomination that forces the mysterious Council of Cats to launch a global quest for the Relics of the divine Great Cat.

Deadpool: Seven Slaughters #1 - Rob Liefeld & Greg Capullo

Seven kills in seven days! Welcome to a week in the life of Wade Wilson, the best mercenary Marvel's ever had (just ask him)! From facing off with rival killers to top secret assassinations, DEADPOOL has a lot of work to do in this blood-soaked oversized issue full of fan-favorite creators past and future!

Dungeons & Dragons: Fortune Finder #1 - Jim Zub, Joe Jaro & Max Dunbar

In the city of Sigil, an amnesiac hero only known as "Finder" tries to uncover who they are and why they're being chased by planar beings intent on capturing them-or worse. But as their tumultuous journey unfolds, they discover that their fate is tied to grand forces that dictate reality itself throughout the planes! A shocking surprise lurks around every corner in FortuneFinder, a miniseries inspired by the new Dungeons & Dragons sourcebook Planescape: Adventures in the Multiverse.

Speed Force #1 (of 6) - Jarrett Williams & Daniele Di Nicuolo

Wallace West and Avery Ho: the young speedsters have been Teen Titans, Justice Leaguers, and above all, members of the Flash Family. As they become aware of mysterious changes happening to the Speed Force, they race to Keystone City, where they encounter old friends, new threats, and a chance to forge their own paths.

Geiger: Ground Zero #1 (of 2) - Geoff Johns & Gary Frank

The saga of THE UNNAMED continues! GEOFF JOHNS and GARY FRANK return to the apocalyptic world of GEIGER for a special explosive two-issue origin epic.

What happened to Tariq Geiger in the days after the nuclear bombs first dropped? How did mankind survive the UNKNOWN WAR? Who is the mysterious Russian scientist Dr. Molotov and why is he hunting Geiger? And how does this tie all the way back to the American Revolution? Get ready to put on your hazmat suit and find out!

GI Joe: A Real American Hero One-Shot - Bob Mcleod & Herb Trimpe

Celebrate the return of G.I. JOE: A REAL AMERICAN HERO with the definitive edition of its historic first issue! This issue restores Larry Hama's original, unedited dialogue, which has never before seen print!

Godzilla Rivals VS Mechagodzilla #1 - Mark Martinez

IS YOUR CITY BESIEGED BY KAIJU? DO YOU LIE AWAKE AT NIGHT ANXIOUSLY LISTENING FOR THE MONSTER SIRENS? HAVE YOU HAD ALL YOU CAN TAKE OF GIANT LIZARDS, MOTHS, PTERODACTYLS, AND SHRIMP? THEN CALL TRACER TECH TODAY! OUR STATE-OF-THE-ART ANTI-KAIJU TECHNOLOGY HAS ALLOWED DOZENS OF CITIES AROUND THE WORLD TO FEND OFF THE THREAT OF MONSTER ATTACK.

San Palomar, California. It's a sleepy city with not much going on. That is, until Tracer Tech built their new corporate headquarters there, displacing lifelong citizens and forcing out local businesses. But what is the source of Tracer's amazing, almost alien technology, and why has it put San Palomar in Godzilla's sights? And what can a couple of local kids like Alex and Jaz do to protect their city when the King of the Monsters and its robot doppelgänger clash?

Lotus Land #1 (of 6) - Darcy Van Poelgeest, Caio Filipe & Alex Eckman-Lawn

In a Vancouver of the future painted with ultramodern decay, a groundbreaking advancement in technology promises an end to entropy itself.

But when an attack on this mysterious "Keeper Program" threatens the lives of everyone tied to it, retired Police Detective Bennie Strikman is called to investigate one last case.

The Ministry Of Compliance #1 - John Ridley & Stefano Raffaele

Thirty-seven years ago, Earth was secretly invaded by an alien force known as the Devolution, and they have been shaping the direction humanity has been going in ever since to prepare us to be assimilated into their empire.

The Devolution has thirteen ministries, each responsible for manipulating a different aspect of human life. The Ministry of Compliance, the most feared of all the ministries, led by the fierce Avigail Senna, makes sure all the ministries stay in line and remain focused on the Devolution's mission. As it appears the Ministry's mission is on the verge of being completed and Earth will be assimilated, things begin to go terribly wrong, and a conspiracy among the ministries breaks out that Avigail must deal with head-on.

Outsiders #1 (of 12) - Jackson Lanzing, Collin Kelly & Robert Carey

Never the End. A universe of secrets is about to come to light. Batman protects Gotham City from evil. Batman Inc. protects the rest of the known world. But what of the unknown world? What of the ancient evils in hidden tombs and forgotten tragedies from a magic-and-mad-science fueled super-heroic century? Using his fortune, Luke Fox launches a new organization dedicated to shining light into the world's darkest corners. His first recruit: Kate Kane, the Batwoman--who will re-embrace her military background to protect Luke's dream and encounter every bit of strangeness the DCU has to offer. And just wait until you meet the Third Man...or learn what universe-shattering secret they've discovered buried under Antarctica. Outsiders is the return of comic book archaeology, digging into all the forgotten corners of DC's history to preserve, record, and better understand the true nature of the DC Multiverse...and the forgotten stories that make up its fabric.

Red Light #1 (of 4) - Sarah Cho, Priscilla Petraites & Jeff Dekal

Lacy is an A.I. sex worker in a futuristic Red Light District. And Lacy knows exactly what her clients want - better than they know it themselves. Housed in a high-tech brothel under the watchful eye of the mysterious Mister, Lacy has little in her manufactured life besides work. All that changes when she befriends Natalie, an orphaned child who comes into her care. Now Lacy and Natalie are on a mission to escape the Red Light District, only to find themselves flung headlong into the mystery behind Lacy's creation.

Superior Spider-Man #1 - Dan Slott & Mark Bagley

A Superior Reckoning! SPIDER-MAN faces a NEW VILLAIN from his SUPERIOR past. As she fries New York with all the power of a living star, DOC OCK makes a life-changing discovery! MARK BAGLEY and DAN SLOTT continue their Spider-Man run with this 10th-ANNIVERSARY celebration of everything that made Spider-Man Superior.

Street Fighter 6 Evolution Special #1 - Capcom, Matt Moylan, Hanzo Steinbach, Tovio Rogers, Jeffrey Chamba Cruz & Genzoman

The new era of fighting games continues with three short-stories starring six World Warriors! Featuring Rashid, Cammy, Dee Jay, Luke, Jamie, and the debut of an all-new Street Fighter 6 character.... the deadly A.K.I.!

365 Days To The Wedding GN Vol 1 - Tamiki Wakaki

A sweet "fake engagement" romance about quiet coworkers by the creator of The World God Only Knows! The J.T.C. travel agency is looking for someone to manage its brand-new branch in Irkutsk. But for employees Oohara Takuya and Honjouji Rika, they'd rather just stay home in Tokyo! Thankfully, they've discovered a way out-their manager has narrowed down the recruits to bachelors, so what if they just... got married? The problem is they barely know each other at all! Can they convince their office they're engaged just long enough for the transfer to finish up?

Cat On The Hero's Lap GN Vol 1 - Kosuke Iijima & Shiori

In this hilarious fantasy adventure, will the hero triumph against the evil demon king, or face defeat... because he can't fight with a cat on his lap?! Our brave hero, Red, has embarked alongside his companions on a journey to defeat the great demon king. Or at least, that was the plan. But then a cat sat on Red's lap and fell asleep. There's no way he can fight monsters like this! As it turns out, Red's greatest enemy is right on top of him!

Curses GN - George Wylesol

"Sometimes I think I see things. Out of the corner of my eye, behind a door, I catch a glimpse of something. It's like a curtain caught in the wind, and then it's gone." From hospitals to hell to the wilderness, George Wylesol's short stories take place in liminal spaces where nothing is as it seems; the surreal becomes real; and something is lying in wait around every corner. As our main characters navigate through corridors, passageways, and highways, they sink deeper and deeper into everyday strangeness that slips into peculiarity, creating an internal journey from normalcy to the supernatural.

Dai Dark Box Set Vol 1 - Q. Hayashida

Introducing the first box set for this hilarious, gruesome, unforgettable tale where dark magic and space action collide! Zaha Sanko's body has great and terrible powers-they say that possessing his bones will grant you any wish, even the desire to become ruler of the universe. But Sanko is still a teenage dude with his own life, and he isn't about to let every monstrous lowlife in the galaxy rip him limb from limb. He and his skeletal buddy Avakian will use their dark powers to fend off any murder attempts while they search space for whomever put this curse on Sanko's bones... because killing them might end the madness. (And then Sanko can celebrate with his favorite spaghetti.) This beautiful box contains Vol. 1-4 of the manga and one double-sided poster.

The Dangerous Convenience Store GN Vol 1 - 945/gusao

This hit Boys' Love webtoon/manhwa (comic) is coming to print in English for the first time! Yeo Eui-joon needs cash, so he works part-time at a convenience store-where the clientele includes hoodlums and mobsters. He's tired of being yelled at while ringing up booze and trying to talk his way out of extortion, but he's not tired of seeing a certain good-looking gangster walk in the door. Gunwoo is huge, gruff, and intimidating at first... but he seems to care about Eui-joon's well-being, and is quick to knock aside anyone giving Eui-joon a hard time. After Eui-joon gets a peek at the enormous condom size Gunwoo buys, a little spark of attraction might just grow into a big, fiery love story!

Disturbed: Dark Messiah TP - Tim Seeley, Angel Hernandez, Esau Escorza & Ryan Christensen

In the not so distant future, firefighter Griffin DeSanto has found himself a man out of time, stumbling into a harsh world of poverty, automation, and subjugation. Technology rules and a tech empire built on suffering keeps the population in check through surveillance and mechanized policing. Though lost, Griffin is never alone, he was brought here for a reason, and The Vengeful One is his guide.

Gunhild GN Vol 1 - Fred Tornager

Her travels lead mainly to many foes, but a few enemies become friends, persuaded by Gunhild's unwavering determination and burning passion for her own cause. Being a tiny Jotun against a big, powerful world, Gunhild must fight smart and learn a trick or two from Loki to earn the title of godhood. Certainly, Gunhild will stop at nothing to forge her own fantastic path and make her dream come true.

The History Club HC Vol 1 - Bret Baier & Marvin Sianipar

From Bret Baier comes the first book in a thrilling new time-bending graphic novel series about kids who use their love of history to thwart an evil time traveler's scheme to change the past! Becca, Zack, Cam, and Thomas are best friends who may seem like an unlikely group on the surface but who have something very important in common: a love of history! Together, they make up their school's history club that has an all-important secret mission: stop the villainous History Twister's plot to destroy the past, forever altering the future. Knowledge of history is their superpower as they chase the Twister through time. After all, who knows what would have happened if Alexander Hamilton had lived and Aaron Burr had died in their infamous duel? It's up to the History Club to save the world from utter destruction!

Jim Henson's Labyrinth: Beyond The Goblin City TP - Delilah S Dawson, Gustavo Duarte, Jeff Stokely, Ross Curry, Jonathan Case, Adam Smith, Lara Elena Donnelly, Sas Milledge, Daniel Bayliss, Pius Bak, French Carlomagno, Jeff Stokely, Kyla Vanderklugt, Samantha Dodge, Gustavo Duarte & Mike Allred

Featuring the secret history of Sir Didymus and the untold story of one of Jareth's Masquerade guests, in addition to stories featuring fan-favorite characters like Ludo, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the Goblin King himself.

This epic collection showcases imaginative tales from critically acclaimed writers and artists, including Jonathan Case (The New Deal), Delilah S. Dawson (Star Wars: Phasma), Gustavo Duarte (Bizarro), Roger Langridge (Snarked), Katie Cook (Star Wars: ABC-3PO), Jeff Stokely (The Ludocrats), S.M. Vidaurri (Labyrinth: Under the Spell), Sina Grace (Superman: Kal-El Returns), Michael Dialynas (Wynd), Sarah Webb (The Storyteller: Sirens), Boya Sun (5 Worlds), Lara Elena Donnelly (The Amberlough Dossier), French Carlomagno (The Dead Lucky), Pius Bak (Eat The Rich), Samantha Dodge (Catwoman: Soulstealer), and many more!

Collects Jim Henson's Labyrinth: Shortcuts and Jim Henson's Labyrinth: Under the Spell.

No Touching At All GN - Kou Yoneda

On the first day of his new job, the shy and introverted Shima suddenly finds himself trapped in an elevator with an extremely hungover man, who turns out to be none other than his new boss, Togawa. Though Shima is initially put-off by Togawa's rude and shameless behavior, he can't help but be drawn in by the man's compassionate side, and he soon finds his thoughts are completely consumed by the charismatic man. Unfortunately, painful experiences from his past continue to haunt Shima, and ultimately prevent him from taking the first step. Even when Togawa makes his feelings for the young man blatantly clear, despite also having agonizing memories and an unpleasant past of his own, Shima still hesitates to open himself up to the man. How will things turn out when a love is so obvious that it can felt, but the individuals in question can't express it directly?

Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human GN - Osamu Dazai & Chika Ito

This manga version of novelist Osamu Dazai's masterpiece No Longer Human, the #2 bestselling novel of all time in Japan. Yozo Oba, a young man growing up in Japan in the immediate aftermath of World War II, is tormented by a failure to find any value in himself or in human relationships, despite being surrounded by women who love him. He creates the persona of a buffoon who mocks himself while entertaining others. But inside he is tortured, and as he moves from childhood to adulthood he becomes addicted to sex and alcohol. Largely autobiographical, No Longer Human explores Dazai's own sense of failure and alienation which drove him to self-destruct with alcohol and numerous suicide attempts.

Power Rangers Universe TP - Nicole Andelfinger, Simone Ragazzoni & Derrick Chew

WHAT IS THE TRUE ORIGIN OF THE PHANTOM RANGER?

On a journey across time and dimensional space, writer Nicole Andelfinger (Dragon Prince: Bloodmoon Huntress), artist Simone Ragazzoni (Odessa), and colorist Mattia Iacono answer the questions fans have been asking since the beginning!

A mysterious pod crashes to earth, while the Legendary Ranger Teens take on thrilling new forms, powerful against their foes and dangerous to themselves, and even contend with a corrupted former ally. Can they save their friend and protect the Morphin Grid from destruction?

Discover the truth behind the Phantom Ranger, the Morphin Masters, Power Rangers, and the Morphin Grid itself in the series that will unlock the secrets of the Power Rangers Universe!

Saigami GN - Seny

The girl known as Ayumi is a troubled European teenager who feels lost, like a stranger in her world. Her father left when she was little, while her mother's work means she is never around. A love of manga and books keeps her happy, while honest-to-goodness friends seem to be something only other people have. But this is not the case in the fantasy land known as Aesztrea. In this strange new world, there are dragons, creatures, and warriors who can wield power beyond our wildest imagination. When Ayumi arrives in Aesztrea, she learns that she may also be a Saigami. This warrior class of supernatural and superhuman abilities is one of the most honored and respected people in this new world. For the first time in her life, her potential is limitless, and she has seemingly found a place and a people where she can belong. But not all is right in Aesztrea, Ayumi will have to face her own demons to get to the bottom of this and determine who she wants to be.

Sakura Saku GN Vol 1 - Io Sakisaka

Saku Fujigaya would like to thank the boy who helped her, but all she has is a note signed "Ryosuke Sakura." She discovers that a boy at her high school, Haruki Sakura, has an older brother named Ryosuke. She asks Haruki to deliver her thank-you letter to Ryosuke, but why does he refuse?

Sheep Princess In Wolf's Clothing GN - Mito

In this beautifully illustrated yuri/Girls' Love fairy tale, a wolf-woman butler must tutor a sheep princess who's not as soft as she looks! Aki Rikujo, a Wolfa, works as a butler at the royal castle in the land of Sheepa. Her quiet and peaceful days get shaken up when she saves the life of Princess Momo Shiudafaris. The shy sheep princess immediately latches onto Aki who, before she knows it, becomes the princess's private tutor. Momo wants more than just math lessons from Aki, and even sneaks into the wolf-woman's bedroom to seduce her! Aki soon realizes that, under the timid woolly exterior, Momo is a wild animal!

The Star Seekers GN - HYBE & Tomorrow X Together

When assailants interrupt Star One's comeback stage, the boys spring into action...all except Eugene! Though he helps as best he can, his lack of magic limits what he can do. That is, until the strange stray cat he picked up appears in a flash of light and offers him power...

Whatcha snaggin' this week, Fantom Fam?

#comic books #wotw #comics #comic book #comic #what's out this week? #manga

[pucabooo]

Do Not Presume to Know The Damned

The Son of The Sea Snake

Dreamfyre tilted the great expanse of her leathery wings to the wind, slowing herself as she skidded into the waves and displaced water. Waves lapped against the hull of the Summer Maid and Laenor lifted Luke back from the railing as water spilled onto the deck and over their shoes. His bare feet dangled above the ocean water as it sloshed back over the side and into the sea while the ship rocked against the waves’ force. Laenor put his son back down.

In the sea before them, Dreamfyre spread her pale blue veined wings across the surface of the choppy water, tail floating behind her as she huffed a throaty sigh. In a pine-coloured leather saddle—finely made, Laenor noted—Princess Helaena slumped forward, calves submerged in the surf. Clad in baggy green riding leathers that seemed to swallow her meagre frame, the girl turned to look at them, hair escaping in wild straggles from her woollen hat.

“Ser Laenor,” Helaena croaked.

...

#hotd #house of the dragon #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x helaena #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones #jacelaena #jace velaryon #laenor velaryon #qarl correy #laenor x qarl #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd viserys #alicent hightower

[deke-rivers-1957]

Scott Finds Himself

We enter on a chemistry lab where 25 year old Scott Heyward's being badgered by the head of his father's engineering team.

"Scott please let us handle it. We don’t need your father worrying about you working with chemicals."

"But it's just this one experiment. I can handle it."

"Yes but we’re his employees. You should be telling us what you want done."

"I want something that's waterproof."

He sighs and sits down in a chair.

"What have you tried so far?"

"Well, I tried some synthetic polymers, but the water-based solvents broke them down instantly."

"Have you tried working with calcium hydroxide? It has its uses in construction when making mortar."

"Yeah, but I had to use so much that it made the glue too hard and brittle."

He writes that down in his notes.

"Did it become hydrophilic?"

"Yeah and I want the stuff to repel water."

"Too porous then. You need to create a chemical compound that’s airtight."

"That's how I see it. The problem is finding the right chemical bond - something that would make it waterproof but pliable, not rigid."

He looks up from his notes.

"And why pliable? If you were to apply it to the hull of a motorboat it would have to sustain the choppy waters."

"That's why it has to be pliable - rigid chemicals would just crack and leak water inside. It would have to bend and move with the hull during the roughest weather."

"So you need a glue that can actually change its shape so to speak so it can continue to displace the water."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about."

He goes over his notes and tries to come up with a plan.

"Now do you have a list of supplies that you need for your next experiment?"

"Oh, yeah, right here."

He reads it and clicks his tongue a couple times. 

"It’s going to be hard to convince your father to advance our team the money."

"Let me worry about that."

"Right."

He hands the list back and Scott walks up to his father's office.

"Daddy, can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"Dag nabbit son how many a yer trials have ya done? Surely ya had to have figure it out by now."

"I'm working on it, dad, I really am. It's just that this problem is really hard to solve."

"Fine come in an sit down."

Scott sits down in a chair in front of his father's desk.

"Son when do ya plan on havin this gimmick done anyway? If yer gonna play scientist an spend my money I need results."

"I want to have this waterproof glue ready in three weeks."

His dad sighs and starts writing a check.

"Fine 3 weeks. But no more. I don’t wanna hear ya crying to me again about how your experiment failed for the 100th time."

"Thank you, Dad."

Time Skip

2 years have passed and Scott Heyward has been working feverishly in his lab to find a waterproof glue. He is working at a table full of experimental materials and equipment. His hair is unkempt, he has dark circles under his eyes, and he is obviously exhausted and in a bad mood. 

"I just need this to work."

He mixes two chemicals together to see if he has something. The two chemicals form a thick, opaque substance that is both sticky and pliable. Scott is excited and immediately takes it to his father.

"Dad! Dad wake up!"

He startles awake.

"Doggone it son it’s 6 am!"

"Sorry, Dad, but I have good news!"

"Yer finally done playin scientist?"

"I have it, Dad! I finally have it!"

He sighs and starts getting out of bed.

"Well go on and put it on a boat if ya got it."

They drive over to the boat harbor. Scott plans on testing his glue on an old boat.

"I'll start racing this boat for a few minutes to see if it can handle high speeds in the water."

"Fine."

Scott drives off and slowly works up to maximum speed. The boat moves through the choppy water and seems to be repelling the water. It's not leaking from any of the seams. Scott is even more excited now.

"I got it! Let's see if it'll last."

After a few minutes the boat suddenly starts taking on water. 

"What the...?"

"Son get outta the boat!"

Scott hops out of the boat just in time. It sinks immediately. Scott has completely lost hope. He swims back to shore feeling angry, frustrated, and upset. He can't believe his glue failed.

"Dammit! I thought that *expletive* glue would work!"

Scott swears up a storm until his father puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Son take a break. Get yerself a shower an some sleep."

He is still angry and upset but he tries to calm down. 

"I tried so hard, and it ended just like it always does - with failure."

"Don't worry bout it. I’ll get the dock manager to fish out the rust bucket."

He starts walking with Scott back to the car.

"I sure ain’t no scientist but even I know things break when it’s stressed. And that’s what yer gonna do if ya don’t take a break."

"You're right, Dad, I need to get some sleep."

"Get in the car, I’ll drive us home."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

He starts to drive away from the docks.

"Son I think it’s time ya find yerself a nice woman an settle down."

Scott seems surprised and taken aback by this statement. 

"What?"

"I ain’t gonna be round forever boy. I want some grandkids while I’m still young enough to enjoy them."

"But, I don't even have a girlfriend!"

"That there’s my point. Got yerself holed up in the lab instead a finding a woman."

He laughs. 

"Maybe you're right."

Scott yawns and closes his eyes for a few seconds. 

"So, what if I meet a girl? What then?"

"It works out, ya marry her an get me some grandkids."

"I understand that part, but what if I can't get a girl to marry me?"

Scott's father looks at him. 

"My god yer sleep deprived."

"Yeah. I'm so tired."

"See now that’s another reason why ya need a woman son."

He laughs again. 

"She'd probably leave after the first night."

"A good one’ll drag ya to bed."

Scott raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not gonna get dragged to bed by anyone, Dad."

"That’s how I know ya ain’t ever met a woman."

He snickers. 

"What do you know about women?"

"I had you didn’t I."

"Oh yeah. Good point."

Time Skip

Scott takes his dad's advice and drives around town, feeling out of his element and unsure of where to start. He drives by several crowded bars and restaurants where young people seem to be having a good time. He is tempted to ask one of them for advice but can't find the courage to do it. 

"Hey."

He's startled by the sudden appearance of a biker and looks up at him. 

"Um...hello."

"Sick ride."

He laughs nervously. 

"Yeah...thanks."

The biker remains sitting on his motorcycle smoking a cigarette. 

"Plannin on goin inside or takin in the scenery?"

He is irritated by the man's attitude. This biker isn't making him feel any better about his nerves. 

"I was just trying to figure out where to go to meet people."

"Why too tired of the same ol golf clubs?"

He's getting angrier by the minute. 

"What's it to you, buddy?"

"Yer on my turf pal. I know everyone and I can smell the silver spoon from here."

His face turns into a scowl. 

"Listen pal, I don't want any trouble. Now I think it's time you moved along."

"Ya think I’m scared? You’re a cream puff compared to the guys in Huntsville."

The guy has a sarcastic grin that's really getting under Scott's skin, but Scott's getting tired of being afraid of everyone he meets. 

"Let's see how tough you are without your bike."

"That a challenge?"

He gets even madder. 

"Oh yeah, it's a challenge."

Scott is clearly nervous, but he's determined to make this guy back down. 

"Put 'em up, pal. We're going to see how tough you really are."

"Sounds good to me in fact I’ll spot ya a free hit. Make it good."

Despite being nervous as hell, he balls his fists tight and steps up to the guy to take his shot. He swings wildly and lands a punch right on the guy's nose.

"Oof!"

He falls to the ground and Scott has no idea what he just did. He's still filled with adrenaline and anger but he starts to realize that he just hit the guy - hard. This isn't how things were supposed to go. He starts to panic and feels like he just made a big mistake.

"That all ya got?"

He starts to back up. The guy has finally gotten to him and he doesn't know why he ever picked this fight. The guy starts to get up and is clearly pissed.

"All right look, it was a mistake. I'm sorry. I think we should just call it even, okay?"

"Buy me a drink first."

Scott's relieved that the conversation seems to be taking a less-violent turn. 

"Um, okay. Um...what do you want?"

"Bottle a tequila."

"Yeah yeah. I can do that. Come on let's go inside."

They go into the bar and Scott buys the man a drink. He gets the tequila and goes back over to the biker. 

"Here you go and I really am sorry."

He takes a big swig. 

"Now what’s a cream puff like you doing in two bit honky tonk?"

"Well, I'm trying to meet girls, but I've never done this before and it's hard to approach them. And to be honest, I don’t really know what to even say."

He hits Scott in the shoulder.

"Get a couple drinks in ya. That’ll fix ya up."

"You really think so?"

"Better than moping on yer ass all night."

"You got a point." 

He takes a big swig of the tequila. 

"This stuff tastes horrible."

"What’s the matter yer lordship? Too much champagne ruin yer tastebuds?"

He laughs. The tequila is hitting hard and he can feel himself relaxing a little. 

"No, you're right. I'll take it like a man. Another shot, please." 

He downs his shot and grins.

Time Skip

They both start feeling pretty buzzed and Scott's starting to relax more now. He's never experienced this kind of "party" environment before and he is enjoying himself. 

"Look, I gotta say, I'm having a really good time."

"Yer a lightweight if that’s all it takes to get ya going."

He laughs again, he feels like he's losing his mind. He doesn't care that this guy keeps making fun of him, he feels free and happy. It's a completely new feeling for him. 

"You're so right. You know, I've never even really had anyone make fun of me like this before. This is fun."

"Hey don’t look now but ya got a couple birds eyeing ya up."

Scott looks over and sees a couple of cute girls staring his way and laughs to himself. He turns back to the biker dude. 

"Did I really get girls looking my way or are you just messing with me?"

"Hell no. They can smell the money coming from ya."

Scott can't contain his excitement and laughs even harder. He grabs the biker dude's arm and pulls him into his confidence like an old buddy. 

"Damn, dude, you're right. Maybe tonight's not such a bust after all. But do you really think I have a shot with them?"

"If they know what’s good for em."

"You're right. I'm gonna go for it. You mind if I ditch you?"

"Fly away and be free Howard Hughes."

Scott walks up to the girls and tries to act as natural as possible. He knows the biker dude is probably watching him and waiting to see how it unfolds.

"Come with us Mr Heyward!"

"What the...?" 

The girls are already dragging him to the back room and start taking his shirt off. He isn't quite as relaxed as he was when he was in the bar with the biker guy, but he's going with it even though his heart is pounding out of his chest. The girls take his pants off too, and everything is happening so quickly. His head starts to spin.

"We’ll take care of ya Mr Heyward."

He is not quite sure what is going on and is completely surprised that the girls' interest in him has escalated quite so quickly. The girls are all over him, caressing his body and kissing him all over. He tries to relax and go with it.

"You haven't had a soft touch in a long time. But we'll be gentle."

It surprises him to have a girl's hand rub him in an arousing way and he starts to like it. Scott's a bit nervous and overwhelmed, but he's starting to enjoy himself immensely.

"Oh! Ohhh! Oh!"

After a while Scott passes out for the night feeling content.

Time Skip

After many months of dating one of the girls Scott still isn't sure if she's only interested in him for his dad's money. One day he's lying in bed and watches her come in.

"Honey. I gotta ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Well do you only like me for my father's money or-"

She cuts Scott off by kissing him.

"Does that help?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

They go back to making out for a while until they lie in bed together.

"Honey. Will you marry me?"

"Oh my goodness yes! We’re going to have a wonderful honeymoon together! I can just see it now."

He looks at her enthusiastically, excited by her response. He is already dreaming of the future, but he just can't ignore one nagging feeling: that she's interested in what he can do for her and she isn't necessarily in love with him for who he is as as person.

Time Skip

Scott's still working long hours in the lab, trying to perfect his new glue. He's starting to become obsessed with it, spending day and night trying to create the perfect adhesive.

"Son what’re ya doing up so late? Ya got a wedding in the morning."

He looks up startled by his father's presence. He was entirely absorbed in what he was working on.

"I'm trying to perfect this adhesive. You know how important this is to me."

"Too important. This has gone on long enough and I haven’t seen any results. I’ve had enough. After the wedding I’m ending your experiment."

"Nooooo...."

He starts to beg and plead with his father. 

"I'm getting so close. This could be the most important glue project ever, and I'm so close to the perfect formula. I just need another day, that's all. Please?"

"Son I’ve been losing money hand over fist because you wanna play scientist. I’ve given ya chance after chance to make somethin happen an it didn’t. It’s time ya learn when somethin just can’t be done."

"But I'm telling you, I can do it! All I need is a little more time. I'm on the verge of a major breakthrough!"

"3 years is time enough and yer exactly where ya started. I’m putting an end to this."

Scott's filled with frustration and his eyes start to well up. His father's so unfair and he doesn't understand why he won't give his own son more time to finish what he started. He feels like the entire world is against him.

"Son ya gotta understand that it ain’t healthy to be working on the same thing for so long. Even my science team don’t work through nights like you do. Ya really wanna be holed up in the lab when yer gonna have a beautiful wife soon?"

"All right...I guess you're right. I guess it is time to quit."

"Atta boy son. Now ya best go off to bed. Gonna be an early morning."

He sighs and gets up from the lab, feeling defeated. He knows his father is right, but he also feels a deep sense of sadness that he won't be able to complete his project. He walks over to the bathroom to get ready for bed, wondering what life has in store for him now.

"Somebody’s getting the jitters."

He feels his fiancee kiss his cheek. Scott smiles and kisses her back trying to put on a brave face. 

"Yeah, you're right. I'm definitely getting a little anxious. But if everything goes the way it's supposed to, I'll be so excited and happy tomorrow night that all these jitters will be forgotten."

"Well we’ll be married in the morning and then day after that we’ll be in Paris for our honeymoon."

"God, it sounds so surreal when you actually say it out loud. In 24 hours, we'll be husband and wife. I mean, it's amazing, isn't it?" 

He takes her hand into his and starts to stroke her fingers with his thumb, feeling a warm sensation wash over him.

"I can just see the boutiques and the fanciest pastries in the world. It’s like a dream."

He realizes she's so focused on the superficial elements of the wedding and honeymoon and is not thinking about anything else. He decides not to bring any of this up now, because he doesn't want to spoil this moment for her.

"Do you think we’ll have time to go to the French Riviera?"

"Oh I don't know. Nothing would be more romantic than Paris. And we could make it even more romantic if we really set our minds to it. If we really set our minds to it, we could make Paris look like a walk in the park."

"How much do you think it would all cost? 10? 20 thousand?"

"Money my dear is no object."

"That's amazing! We can go to every bistro in Paris if we wanted to."

He realizes the effect that his comment has had on her. For a moment, he is stunned by her genuine excitement. He realizes that the idea of him spending as much money as possible on her really turns her on. This makes him sad on the inside that this is when he finds out she only wants money. 

"Well go on to bed. I gotta take a drive to relax."

"I can wait up for you. I wouldn’t want you to be late for our wedding."

"It's okay, I just need some time to myself to clear my head. I can't sleep anyway. I need a little time to think...and maybe get some fresh air, that's all."

"Ok."

She nods and he kisses her goodnight. Maybe he should just call the wedding off. His thoughts are spinning in his head. He heads out to the car.

"I need to get away from all this."

He drives off slowly and after a while pulls back into the parking lot of the honky tonk where he met the biker dude many months earlier. He had a feeling he should be here, though he wasn't sure why. Instead of going inside, he sits in his car for a while and tries to gather his thoughts.

"Never thought I’d see you again cream puff."

He looks up and sees the biker dude in the corner of his eyes. He feels kind of embarrassed to see him because he feels like the biker dude probably thinks he's a weak loser after the encounter they had last time he visited this place.

"I want to talk to you."

"Oh I’m so honored my liege."

He rolls his eyes, sensing the sarcasm. He doesn't take it to heart because he's not in the best mood anyway. His mind and his heart are at odds with each other and he's struggling just to get what he needs to say out. 

"Listen. One of the women I met here months ago only wanted my dad’s money. I’m supposed to marry her tomorrow."

"Why’d ya propose if ya don’t like it?"

He shrugs and downs a couple shots of tequila. This isn't the easiest thing for him to say to someone outside of his family. And the biker dude is not exactly someone he would normally talk to about his feelings either.

"I was so stupid. She was so beautiful. I got caught up in the whole thing and couldn’t see what she really wanted. And now I’m about to make a huge mistake."

"So what do ya plan on doing just run away from home?"

"I can't. She's supposed to be my wife tomorrow. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just need someone else, someone neutral, to tell me I'm doing the right thing by calling off the wedding. I should've known better but a part of me thought I could make her fall for the real me and forget about the money."

"Listen my lord you ain’t gonna find anyone in Texas that won’t know ya got money."

He shakes his head. He knows the biker dude is right, which is why he's so conflicted about where he should go from here. He's supposed to be at the most important day in his life tomorrow, and instead, he's feeling so lost and helpless. He can't believe how everything has spun out of control. He's supposed to be excited about the wedding, but all he's feeling right now is complete dread.

"What am I going to do then?"

"Ya gotta find a way to not smell like money."

He pauses for a moment, thinking about it. He realizes the biker is once again right. If he's gonna start somewhere, he's gonna have to start by changing his image. And one thing is apparent - for as long as he looks like a rich preppie, he'll always be perceived as one. And he wonders if that’s the answer - if that’s really how he needs to start over.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh please, just by looking at ya I can see cream puff written all over yer face."

He sighs and slumps his body, acknowledging the biker is right yet again. And he realizes how humiliating it must be for him to keep having to admit the biker dude is right about everything. He realizes his image can't continue if he wants to start over. 

"So how do I stop looking like such a cream puff?"

"Stay outta turtlenecks for one."

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't resist the wisdom in the biker's advice. 

"All right, so no more turtlenecks. What else?"

"Ditch the ride or mess it up so it doesn’t look like a show room model."

He thinks for a moment, starting to take this whole transformation seriously. 

"Alright I got a plan."

"And what’s that?"

He takes a deep breath. 

"I'm gonna get a new car. Something less flashy and a little beat up so that nobody notices me. I'm gonna change my wardrobe and dress in a way that's more down to earth and a little messy."

The biker shakes his head.

"Name and face is too recognizable. Everybody in this bar knows who you are just by looking at ya."

For a moment, he feels totally deflated by the biker's words. It's as if the biker can see right through him. 

"That's true. What do I do about that? I can't change my face, I mean, that's impossible."

"Skip town. Get yerself some dough and get outta state."

He thinks about it and realizes he may not have a choice. 

"I think you're right. I think the further I go, the less likely it is someone will recognize me.

"Yeah ya might be of Heyward Oil but ya sure ain’t a Rockefeller yet."

He smiles slightly at the humor. He realizes the biker's words are totally true. His father could definitely never start over like this. He can't help but feel some admiration for the biker. He's very impressive; he really is. He's totally blunt with words, but he never says it in a mean way. And he really does seem to be genuinely trying to help him. He's kind of a cool guy. 

"So I guess that's what I'm gonna have to do then - move to a different state."

"Pops sure ain’t gonna like all the money he spent on yer wedding going to waste."

He thinks about this. He knows he's right. The wedding is just one more thing he's gonna have to walk away from. And the money that his father put into that too. But what can he honestly do about it now? You know, what if moving away is exactly what he needs to find that real relationship he knows is out there waiting for him? He can't let the cost of money stand in his way any longer. There are greater things at play than money. He just has to have the courage to break free. 

"Just gonna have to bite the bullet."

"So yer finally growing a pair."

"Not only that, I think I'm starting to grow up too. For the first time in my life, I'm realizing it's time to stop being the rich kid and to start being a man. It's time to leave my old problems behind and move ahead to the next stage of my life. It's time to finally put my dad in the mirror and face myself."

"Yer gonna take the silver spoon out of yer mouth."

"Yeah, I think it's time to do just that. You know, all this time I've been living my life the way I was brought up. I've been following the path my dad expected me to take. But now I realize it wasn't so much a path for me as it was a path to turn me into him. And I don't want to even be like my father. I want to be my own person."

As he pays for his drink, he reaches over with the $20 and touches the biker's hand with it. 

"Thank you, buddy. I really needed your advice tonight. I feel like this was the reality check I needed to set me straight. And I can't thank you enough."

"20 bucks is 20 bucks yer lordship."

"And the advice is priceless. I'm gonna pay you back one day. For now I just wanna ask you one last favor. Please don’t tell my dad that I came here."

The biker shrugs.

"It ain’t like they’d let me into the golden gates."

"Thanks, pal. You're a good guy. I really mean that."

"Ain’t so bad yerself cream puff."

He nods, smiling and shaking the biker's hand one more time. 

"Well, it's time I get going. I think it's probably best nobody sees me for a while."

"Good luck my liege."

"Same to you my dude."

He feels more confident in his new game plan as he heads out, knowing it's time to move forward with his new life. He gets into the car knowing he can always change in the morning once he's out of Texas. He's ready to put the past behind and start fresh somewhere new.

Tagging: @xanatenshi. Thank you for requesting this. I hope you like the Brendan Fraser look for Scott.

#ecu fanfiction #clambake #scott heyward #elvis fandom

[xtruss]

Russia's Typhoon-Class Missile Submarine Is Something the Navy Can't Match

Russia's Typhoon-Class nuclear submarines were a vessel the U.S. Navy could never match in terms of size and total tonnage. They carried a massive amount of Nuclear Missiles.

— By Peter Suciu | Monday January 22, 2024

Image: Shutterstock

A Big Deal: The Russian Navy's Typhoon-Class — Nearly a year ago, Russia decommissioned the Project 941 Akula (NATO reporting name Typhoon) heavy nuclear-powered missile-carrying submarine cruiser Dmitry Donskoy several years earlier than expected. In fact, it had been only three years ago that the Kremlin announced the boat would remain in service until at least 2026, even as its role was reportedly limited to that of a weapons test platform for the new Borei-, Borei-A-, Yasen-and Yasen-M-class submarines.

In February 2023, it was officially confirmed that Dmitry Donskoy was decommissioned in February due to cost considerations. The submarine had served for more than 40 years in the Northern Fleet.

Initially designated the TK-208, she was the lead vessel of the Soviet third-generation Akula-class (Russian for "Shark"). She entered service in 1981 with the Soviet Navy, and after a 12-year overhaul and refit that began in 1990, she reentered service in 2002 as the Dmitry Donskoy, named after the Grand Duke of Moscow Dmitry Donskoy (1359–1389), the reputed founder of Moscow.

According to Russian media, Dmitry Donskoy initially carried D-19 strategic intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) as its basic armament. Following its upgrade under Project 941UM, it was involved in the tests of the seaborne Bulava ICBM.

Typhoon-Class: Project 941 Boats: The Sevmash Shipyard built six of a planned seven Project 941 submarines for the Russian Navy, and all were operational with the Northern Fleet. Though the oldest of the submarines, the Dmitriy Donskoy was also the last of the class to remain in service.

The TK-202, TK-12 – later renamed the Simbirsk – and T-13 were withdrawn from active service between 1996 and 2009, and scrapped with the financial support of the United States. Two other boats: the TK-17/Arkhangelsk and TK-20/Severstal remained in service until they were decommissioned circa 2013. A seventh boat, TK-210, was laid down but scrapped before completion.

With a displacement of 48,000 tons, a length of 175 meters (nearly 600 feet), a 23-meter beam, and a 12-meter draught, the Typhoon-class was the largest class of submarines ever built. Developed with multiple pressure hulls, including five inner hulls situated inside a superstructure of two parallel main hulls, the Typhoon-class was also wider than any other submarine ever built. The submarines were powered by OK-650 pressurized-water nuclear reactors, two 50,000 horsepower steam turbines, and four 3,200 KW turbogenerators and this provides the boat with the ability to sail at a speed of up to 22.2 knots on the surface and 27 knots whilst submerged.

Each contained nineteen compartments, including a strengthened module, which housed the main control room as well as an electronic equipment compartment above the main hulls and behind the missile launch tubes. It even was reported that there was a sauna on board as well as a small swimming pool for the crew. The sheer size of the submarines was likely welcomed by the approximately 160 sailors who called the submarine home on voyages lasting 120 days or longer, oftentimes without surfacing for months at a time.

The Typhoon-class subs were designed to counter the United States Navy's Ohio-class subs, which were capable of carrying up to 192 100-kiloton nuclear warheads. By contrast, the Soviet Typhoons could carry a primary cache of 20 RSM-52 SLBMs (submarine-launched ballistic missiles), each of which contained up to 10 MIRV (multiple independently targetable reentry vehicle) warheads.

Though the Dmitriry Donskoiy has been decommissioned, in 2021, a new sub of the Borei-class has already begun construction; and when launched, will bear the name of the legendary founder of Moscow.

— Peter Suciu is a Michigan-Based Writer. He has contributed to more than four dozen magazines, newspapers, and websites with over 3,200 published pieces over a twenty-year career in journalism. He regularly writes about military hardware, firearms history, cybersecurity, politics, and international affairs. Peter is also a Contributing Writer for Forbes and Clearance Jobs.

#The National Interest #Magazine #Blogs #Military #Economics #Technology #Russia 🇷🇺 #Typhoon-Class #Missile Submarine #Navy #U.S. Navy 🇺🇸 #Nuclear Missiles #Peter Suciu #Typhoon-Class: Project 941 Boats 🛶 🛥️ 🚤 #TheNationalInterest.Org

[filipeanut]

Admission to many museums in the UK are free, so once and a while we drop in to get to see local art. Here are some photos of art with themes of colonization, injustice, and issues of our time at Tate Liverpool.

This photo is of a Palestinian woman in what’s left of her home during the Sabra Camp massacre in 1982. It is by Don McCullin, a British photographer who covered the Lebanese Civil War during his visits in 1976 and 1982. Palestinian refugees fled to Lebanon after the establishment of Israel in 1948 in what was once a part of Palestine. The war in Lebanon led to massacres of Muslim neighborhoods including Palestinians in the Sabra refugee camp.

The late Zarina Hashmi was an Indian-American artist born in India, whose family was displaced by the 1947 partition of India after British colonial rule. While her sister Rani moved to Pakistan, Zarina eventually traveled the world, staying in touch with her sister everywhere she went. “Letters from Home” use these letters from Rani as a basis for the art, as they are written in Urdu and printed along with depictions of blue prints and maps of the places Zarina had lived through the years.

Kader Attia was born in France to Algerian parents, and later grew up in Algeria. Believe it or not, this artwork is made out of food. Specifically, couscous, a staple in Algeria as well as the rest of North Africa. Near the exhibit is a photo of Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier, who applied modernist architecture during the French colonial period in Algeria near the mid 1900s. In this artwork Attia seems to shape buildings in the modernist style, depicting the ancient hilltop city of Ghardaia in Algeria. The buildings are molded in couscous, and cracks and crumbling areas in the buildings could be seen as weathering from both the city’s old age and French colonization.

Torkwase Dyson handcrafted these huge, black structures and placed them in a large dark space on the first floor of Tate Liverpool. Dyson’s abstract works “grapple with the ways in which space is perceived, imagined and negotiated particularly by black and brown bodies.” This installation, “Liquid a Place,” definitely displays this, with these huge statues of what seam like heavy slabs of the darkest marble. They definitely convey the weight of colonization for me, and the artist description of them echoing “the curve of a ship’s hull” got me the most. Tate Liverpool sits in what was once one of Europe’s busiest ports serving the Transatlantic Slave Trade.

Lubaina Himid was one of the pioneers of the UK’s Black Art movement in the 1980s. “Carrot Piece” shows a white figure hovering a carrot over a Black woman carrying her own plentiful batch of food and items. The white figure is on a unicycle and wears light make up, conveying ridiculousness or crude entertainment, as if a clown. These are cut-out wooden paintings that are life-sized and was made for, as Himid wrote in her description, “…the moment when you slowly realise that you have learned something quite useful about yourself which proves to be a whole lot better than anything ever offered to you for free.”

Kerry James Marshall is known for his colorful paintings depicting Black people in dark shades. He counters “Western pictorial tradition” and brings forward Black figures in it. This work shows a Black figure wearing a British royal guard uniform, holding a sandwich board advertising a fish and chips restaurant named after a freedman, prominent writer, and British slavery abolitionist Olaudah Equiano. The irony of this art, is that it does not show a place in England. It is a scene in Arizona, where a “London Bridge” was made to attract American tourism.

#Tate Liverpool #Kerry James Marshall #Zarina Hashmi #Don McCullin #Lubaina Himid #Kader Attia #Torkwase Dyson