#HMS Interceptor

[johnbly]

Oh, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough -- but there's no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed.

happy launch anniversary (march 7, 1989) to the lady washington, also known as the hms interceptor!

she still sails to this day, based out of grays harbor historical seaport. if you want to help her stay out on the water for many more years, consider donating to them :D

[reinbewpastel]

I went aboard the Interceptor!

[usafphantom2]

Lonely Friday F4

@CcibChris🇬🇧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿via X

#phantom phriday

[vastwinterskies]

Ahoy! Lieutenants schooner sailing race!

🏁⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵

each team is given an identical ship & a capable crew.

[heygerald]

Red Skies Warning: (POTC 2003)

OFC x Captain Jack Sparrow

Tortuga did not disappoint.

It was exactly what she had been picturing. Prostitutes dotted every street corner, drunkards sleeping in pig pens, alleys overrun with rats, and a bar fight nearly every hour. The streets stunk of piss, hay, and sweat. There was an ever present noise; people shouting to one another, Captains barking orders, cries of anger mixing right alongside the near constant cheers of jolly. And—

Edwina loved it.

It was everything she had read about as a kid, sneaking towards the docks to pry stories of life at sea from the returning sailors or begging the housekeeper—a well traveled lady by the name of Chandace—for tales of seabeasts and mermaids. All her life her mother had hated that sense of childish wonderment she had; her father hadn't been around enough to scold her when she was young.

And now, here she was, experiencing it all for herself.

"You rat bastard!" a voice could be heard in the revelry, followed by the sound of a bottle smashing and punches being thrown against skin. The barkeep shouted something towards the chaos, but altogether remained unbothered as he placed two glasses down on the counter. "I'll kill you—!"

"I think it's time for us to leave," a shoulder edged itself in between her and the fight, effectively cutting off her most recent source of amusement.

Edwina frowned irritably.

Will decidedly did not love the chaos as much as his redheaded friend. Worry lines had creased deeply into his face the moment they stepped off the HMS Interceptor, and his frown now seemed near permanent as he pressed them as far into the corner as he could.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic? Edwina, we just saw somehow get bludgeoned with a broken bottle."

"He's still alive," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. The reaction—or, her lack of one—didn't seem to amuse Will in the slightest. "Will, honestly, no one else seems all that worried about the little scene."

"That only means they're used to it."

"Or that it's not a big deal."

Will's eyes rounded incredulously, and Edwina could already feel the beginning of a headache behind her eyes from the ensuing reprimand that she was about to receive. "You can't be serious. This—"

"We're not going to be here long," she cut him off before he could get started. It worked, though he still seemed entirely unhappy about their current circumstances. "We can't go anywhere without a crew."

"We got here without a crew," he muttered.

She wasn't sure their journey to Tortuga was a badge of honor considering how they had scraped a large section of wood off their ship when making port. Not to mention the fact that they hadn't slept during their journey at all just so they wouldn't run the risk of sinking themselves on a wayward reef. "Barely. Do you really want to be working crew twenty-four hours a day for however many days it takes to find Elizabeth?"

His frown flattened.

"It's going to be fine. You just need to, you know, relax a little."

Will took a long swallow of his drink—wincing when he realized that it tasted more like piss than beer—before he was eyeing her suspiciously. "You seem to be handling things... well."

"Should I be crying more?"

"A pirate's ship is no place for a lady. And this place," he added with a sour look around, his gaze lingering on the pair of ladies in the corner that wore dangerously revealing dresses, "is certainly not the type of establishment you should be lingering in."

Edwina rolled her eyes and took a long dreg of her own beer, purposely holding his gaze and not gagging at the disgusting taste. Will rolled his eyes when she wiped the spilt beer off her face with nothing other than the sleeve of her shirt. "Should I remind you that I didn't have any say in where we made port? I'm here, just like you, in the hopes that Captain Sparrow may not be as crazy as he seems."

You shouldn't have come at all, his eyes seemed to say. But Will wasn't as stupid as he looked, and rather than reprimand her for showing up, he decided to keep that thought to himself knowing she would likely be starting the next bar fight if he said something so sexist to her. "I could have done this on my own."

Edwina gave him a flat look. "You wouldn't have even gotten to the beach before ending up in irons," she reminded him shrewdly.

"We... would have figured something out. Sparrow's one redeeming quality seems to be his improvisation skills."

In perfect timing with the compliment, the sounds of a barfight kicked up from the other side of the bar, and the pair turned to find Jack Sparrow himself being smacked around by the very same ladies that Will had been avoiding earlier.

"You said you's 'was a Lord," one of the ladies hissed, as the other's mouth popped open into a perfect o. She added, "you told me you were going to marry me as soon as your mother died!"

"Well, technically, my mother ain't dead yet, so that's not a lie."

"Oh!"

They took turns smacking him across the cheek, before dumping their beer across his face. Amber liquid dripped a line down his jaw while they turned on their heels, huffed, and marched out through the front door.

Jack grimaced, flinging his hands dry as he watched the door slam shut behind him. The whole bar seemed to be staring now—if only out of boredom—and Edwina watched in mute surprise when his response was nothing other than a silver-toothed grin.

"What can I say, lads?" he touted, spinning for everyone to see, before he clapped his hands together. "The ladies of Tortuga are torturous, treacherous, and my favorite thing on this island."

Laughter echoed around the bar as several men raised their own glasses in some sort of vagabond agreement. Will was clearly not impressed with the little show if the disgust curling the edge of his mouth was anything to go by.

"He's going to get someone killed," Will told her pointedly.

Edwina just smiled. "Yeah, himself."

Jack meandered up to their side of the bar. He cast a mindless smile in Edwina's direction before ordering a drink from the bartender. When he realized that it was Edwina that he had just smiled at and not some hapless woman waiting to be hit on, his smile dipped into a suspicious frown.

"I didn't think you drank," he muttered, nodding at Will with a mocking, "you either, eunuch. Don't seem the type."

"Sure I drink. Just not so much with you."

His frown deepened—only to lift the moment a bottle was settled in front of him with a thump. Jack took a long swig before his gaze returned to the pair at his side. "Hmph. I'd almost take that as a compliment coming from you, love."

"Of course you would."

"Jack," Will inserted himself between the glaring pair with a beleaguered sigh. "Did we only come here so you could get piss drunk? I think you could have just done that on the boat."

"Couldn't't've," Jack replied nonsensically. "There's no more rum."

"Is this the only place to buy some, then?"

Jack took another long dreg, squinting at Will with his head tilted sideways, before deciding on something. "I've come to this bar, on this island, mate, because of the types of people that frequent this kind of bar on this kind of island."

"Prostitutes, you mean," Edwina supplied cheerfully.

"Sailors."

"I don't think those dresses would make for good sailing."

He narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "The men here in this type of place are the same men that are going to row us to find your little pretty Governor's daughter, eh? So, yes, dear William, we did have to come to this bar for this rum. No better way of finding a crew than waiting for the drunks to get their tabs at the end of the night that they can't pay."

"Right," Will deadpanned. "Drunks and beggars are going to be our sailors. Wonderful."

Jack pointed an unsteady hand at Will. "Careful who you call drunks and beggars, eh? There's all types lurking in places like this. In fact, I'd almost be inclined to say that you are a beggar. All for a woman, eh?"

The tension between them could have been cut with a knife. And, honestly, if Edwina wasn't tired of their antics.

"Will," she elbowed him sharply. "If drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship, then drunks and beggars are going to crew the ship. It's for a purpose."

"Ay, lass," Jack cooed, smiling something sickly. "It's for a purpose."

"Besides," she continued, a sickly sweet smile of her own aimed right at Jack, "drunks and beggars will fit right in with our Captain. Perhaps their mutual feeling of hopelessness will bond them together for a greater purpose. Eh, Captain?"

He pointed a finger at her, wavering in the air. "Just because you're a lady with the bits and the pieces doesn't mean I'll stand for such talk."

Edwina raised a brow at him, eyes lingering on how he swayed against the bar top. "If you have another unfortunate run in with a lady tonight, I don't think you'll be standing come morning."

"Heh, you offering?"

Edwina slapped Jack across the face with a sharp smack that had her skin hurting. It seemed to surprise Will as much as it did their Captain, and as Jack soothed the skin with his palm, both men looked at her with wide-eyed stares.

"What?" she shrugged, taking a single moment to finish off her drink, before chirping, "isn't that what all the women here do, Captain?"

Jack said nothing.

She suspected that there was nothing to be said in such a lull of conversation anyway, so rather than stick around in hopes he would learn the English language, she just tugged Will by the wrist towards the door.

"What did you do that for?"

"I thought you wanted to leave?"

"Well, I did," he argued, frowning. "I didn't think you would slap him, though."

"Should I slap you next?"

[20yrsofpirateszine]

It is the last day for pre-orders!

We've got two tiers: the digital zine is $5 and the physical zine is $15! Every physical zine will also come with the digital zine, and an amazing sticker sheet featuring many characters.

What's more, if we reach 25 orders, every physical order will come with a free 30mm button with a quote from the movie! Every button will be unique.

Any profits made will go towards the upkeep and continuation of The Lady Washington, the ship that was the HMS Interceptor in Curse of the Black Pearl. Gray's Harbor Historical Seaport, her home port, strives to preserve maritime history.

[dangerousthingobservation]

Supermarine Type 508 Experimental Jet Fighter

The Supermarine Type 508 was ordered from Supermarine in November 1947 to Air Ministry specification N.9/47. The Type 508 was to be a development aircraft for a carrier-borne interceptor, reconnaissance and low-level nuclear strike aircraft to be built later by Supermarine to specification N.113D and which became the Type 544 which entered service as the Scimitar. Seen landing on HMS Eagle in May 1952

[lazyeldritchabomination]

Sparrinton Part 2

I need to establish a couple of things. Manly Norrington´s ships and which one he used for pirate hunting.

While the Dauntless is an impressive ship that probably would blow any pirate ship to pieces, it is important to note that she is a warship. The real live inspiration for the Dauntless is the HMS Victory, an enormous 104-gun first-rate ship that could hold 800 men abord. And even thou she is fast and easy to manoeuvre for its size, she wouldn’t have been able to keep up with a pirate ship.

The Dauntless probably would have the same issue but I don’t think James used the Dauntless to hunt pirates and earn his moniker. What is more likely is that he was the captain of the Interceptor and used her to hunt. She would have been perfect for the job. Fast, easy to manoeuvre and it required far less men to operate. My headcanon is that James was given the Interceptor as a captain and was given the Dauntless for his promotion to commodore. Like we saw in the movie he was station as a lieutenant at the Dauntless but she was probably commanded by an admiral until his promotion to commodore.

(If this is specified in the books… I don’t care, I never read them, I probably never will and I do what I want)

Act 2

James now has one year to prove his worth to the navy and all he has is a warship which is to heavy and slow to catch any pirate worth his salt. He needs a plan and he needs one soon. He can´t chase pirates with the Dauntless, but he also doesn´t have intel to set up a trap.

James stays for a couple of weeks in Port Royal to help repair the damages done by the attack of the Black Pearl. He throws himself completely into his work, so that he is too exhausted to think about his empty house. It worries his two lieutenants.

One day when James is at the marketplace (hidden so nobody notices him) and observes the happy bustling in the streets (it fills his bleeding heart with happiness, this is why he joined the navy, to protect these people from the cruel hands of greedy, ruthless men) does he notice an od figure. They look like any common sailor that wander through the crowd unnoticed. But something nags at James, they seem oddly familiar. The figure turns his head slightly and James is struck speechless. That seemingly unremarkable man is Captain Jack Sparrow himself, unnoticed by anybody. Norrington has to marvel at the genius of it. Jack is a man that turns heads, his hair, the coal, his walk, his gestures, everything is overplayed like he´s an actor on a stage. But once you remove all of that you have a perfect disguise. James lets Jack go that day, out of respect for the man and his love for Elzabeth (who the pirate is probably visiting). But if Jack is in port Royal that means the Pearl must be near to and James would like to know where near his port a ship like the pearl can hide.

James finds the ship hidden in an alcove that he was not aware of. In his mind he marks the location of this hiding spot and returns to the fort to continue his work. With an idea sprouting in his head.

[cursezoroark]

since i finished mona's paragon run i thought i would redo my refs for my (completed) rebornverse ocs!

Mona (they/them, likes men)

Interceptor Protag Oc! honestly my whole thoughts when creating them were half inspired by Kabru dunmeshi cause they both tend to have a facade of having confidence in knowing what they're doing. and then i kind of slapped that on this teenager who gets washing machined. also strangely, took notes from sans..... undertale..... just by the general attitude. nothing else. i promise. Oc x canon pairing with Ren, but Creator (me, greyrom) is horrible at drawing romance. godbless.

Marble (they/them, bisexual)

Deso protag oc! also i need to change that coat design it looks to thematically similar to another oc i have....but i like the yellow... hm. anyways i loved deso. marble is kind of based on vash trigun's reputation versus how they act IRL. every single battle they have is hanging on a thread for survival (less tactical and moreso charge in head first). but they make it up with being more sharp about thier surroundings. very smug and very outspoken about how they feel, but tends to downplay whatever events happened to them specifically. no pairing for this protag, but i like to think that they had a brief moment with Tristan before [SPOILER]. so. theres that. i have a lot of stuff i havent created to display Marble. i hope to do so one day.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

What do you think about Hermaeus Mora apparently being Mephala's sister? What do you think interactions between them would be like? Mora and Azura are also on pretty good terms so it would be interesting to see what they'd be like together

In the earliest days of time existing, two spirits meet on the edge of the grey maybe, one empty-handed, one not.

It is the empty-handed one who speaks first. "You gathered these quickly, sister."

"Yes," says his interceptor, "Auri-el keeps all his secrets in one place, so easy to steal." And she lays down her burdens-- spindles wound thick and heavy with secrets-- at her brother's feet.

They are old spirits, far too old to bother with concrete shapes among themselves, but one of them is susceptible to fashion, so for her edification they sometimes deign to refer to themselves with such trendy inventions as 'names' and 'genders'. The secret-bearer, the fashionable one, goes by Mephala; the empty-handed spirit is Hermaeus Mora, perhaps choosing such an unwieldy title as a subtle rebellion against being given any moniker at all.

The abstraction of form that is Hermaeus Mora stoops down to examine his sister's bounty. "Very good..." he says presently, as fingers that are not shaped like fingers tug at a pearl-white strand. He lifts a spindle, palms it, pulls a string taut to test the strength of the narrative there. "Very good," he says again, speaking very slowly. "Mmm."

"Mm," Mephala retorts. "Need you speak so slow? Time is as valuable a commodity as secrets, these days."

"You pay too much attention to... trends." Hermaeus Mora, still ignorant of linguistic convention, gives every word an excessive weight. He raises the spindle to eyes that are not eyes. "If you would only... listen, to my words..."

"Let me spare us," snaps Mephala. "These are the secrets of Auri-el himself. A meal he likes; a strange flower he noticed growing unattended as he took his evening stroll; the reason for his predisposition towards circles; a dalliance with his gardener. Good secrets and heady ones, not surrendered willingly."

"Hm..." drawls Hermaeus Mora. "And from whom--"

"They are from the mind of his gardener," Mephala finishes for him.

"The--"

"The one with whom he has the dalliance, yes."

Hermaeus Mora turns the spindle in hands that are not hands. "... Very good," he says finally. "This will be... useful."

While her brother fondles the ill-gotten gains, Mephala drops to the floor and rests two of her elbows upon her knees. She watches him for a moment, trying to discern form or purpose in the viscous tendrils that surround her own spinning, but the gestures are too fractal, and she's forced to accept that she is, of the two of them, admittedly more fashionable. Time is such a new thing, but she has already forgotten how to be formless, let alone how to sit purposeless as her brother does now. Frustrated by her own idleness, she begins to use two of her idle hands to braid a lock of cobweb-light hair.

For a long time-- and how strange, to use this invention of Auri-el's to measure their companionship!-- for a long time, she simply observes him as he works at her secrets, and braids.

Hermaeus Mora keeps at his task.

She sits still. Hermaeus Mora keeps sorting.

She grows restless. She shifts in her place.

Hermaeus Mora keeps at his task.

She goes to speak--

"Ah... sister," drones Hermaeus Mora, "You do pay too much attention to trends."

"And you pay no attention at all," she says, straining to retain a facade of patience. "Of the two of us, one must keep their eye on current events."

"And one must also..." begins Hermaeus Mora.

Mephala forces herself to remain still.

Several seconds pass.

"... Maintain a, hm..." he continues, "Perspective."

"Perspective," says Mephala, rising to her feet. "A perspective of what, dear brother? Of wasted seconds with which I could be gathering my secrets-- with which you could be enjoying those secrets? On the topic of perspective, here is mine: you are too narrow-minded. Without this gift of Auri-el's, you wouldn't have half as much for your library."

Hermaeus Mora counters only with a drawn-out hmmmmmmm.

Mephala throws her braid over her shoulder and rises. When she looks to him again, she sees that her carefully-spun secrets have been woven seamlessly into the tangled library that exists within the geometric chaos of Hermaeus Mora's essence. Old-fashioned incoherence. He seems pleased with himself, at least, undulating contentedly against the rhythmic greyscale of creatia.

"Test me further," says Mephala dryly. "I could bring you the minutia of Auri-el's bowel movements next time."

"I assume that would be secret."

"It's the most forbidden of knowledge."

A thousand eyes that are not eyes crinkle in amusement. “You should not tease me...” he says, “You’re wasting time.”

[johnbly]

she.

[janichroma]

If you were given the choice to be the interceptor, would you do it?

Hm... Probably not. Too much adventuring for me. I'd get tired and annoyed real quick. Also will probably die several times and they'd probably all be painful deaths so... nty.

[usafphantom2]

Basking in Malta's November sun are Phantoms FG.1s from No. 892 Squadron on board HMS Ark Royal at time of visit to Malta's Grand Harbour. I shot this on 6th November 1977 (Godfrey Mangion).

@CcibChris🇬🇧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿via X

[lurker-extraordinaire-657645]

......so. i've been thinking! (threat)

i've always wanted to make an oc who's aware of the nature of their existence.... and, well, such a person would fit the role of interceptor rather well..

...perhaps it's time to choose a host, hm..?

[katistrophe]

People you would like to get to know better - tagged by @black-cat-aoife , thanks!

. Three ships: HMS Surprise, HMS Indefatigable, and let’s mix it up and name HMS Interceptor

2. First ever ship: USS Voyager. The start of all the nerdery ever.

3. Last song: with lyrics? I tried to sing Winter’s on the Wing to myself on the way home from the blood bank (got registered as a plasma donor today!)

4. Last movie: I think it was Apollo 13 when I visited my family last winter? No, hold on, The Secret of the Magic Flute was after that. Or whatever it was called. The Magic Flute isekai thing.

5. Currently reading: between books, but hoping I can borrow the Apollo 13 Owners' Workshop Manual at the local library soon.

6. Currently watching:a YouTube documentary on an aviation incident by Mentour Pilot

7. Currently consuming: okonomiyaki - still so happy to be able to cook again. Two days with a contaminated kitchen were hell.

8. Currently craving: Calm and quiet and no sounds that make me jump. Also peanut butter.

Tagging the usual suspects (apologies if I missed any, my body has decided to freak out about being in the kitchen and the heart rate is distracting): @awordwasthebeginning @ackerschnacker @having-conniptions @thattalviel @secretmellowblog @tatzelwyrm @toooldforthisbutstill @nebty @mishidraws